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readychilledwine · 3 months

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Small World Pt 2

Summary - After discovering you and Azriel share much more than a mating bond, your relationship grows stronger as tensions between you and your aunt seem to grow higher.

Warnings - implied emotional and mental abuse, second child syndrome in a not good way, we find out Nyx is an asshole, unrequited love, slight smut, use of daddy

A/n - a potentially cliff hanger ending because I haven't decided 100% how this ends

Peep Part 1 Here 💙

Azriel stared at the dress box sitting on Rhysand's desk and nicely folded Illyrian leathers. He couldn't remember the last time he had worn them. The last time he had used a siphon. The leathers were fitted for 7, something Azriel immediately knew would no longer work.

His powers after removing the precious stones had gone wild. His shadows were different now. They were more aware, able to span wider distances, and able to recruit more shadows into his network to join them.

He had spent 5 years alone meditating and learning even more control over them, over what they could do, over how deadly they actually could be.

7 siphons would not be enough.

And he didn't understand how Rhysand did not see that.

He finally spoke, gesturing to the box. "What is this?"

Rhys was settled in his chair, trying to maintain his composure as Cassian stood near the bookshelf to mediate if needed. "We're going to the Court of Nightmares. My daughter's engagement has spread like wildfire, and dear Keir wants to host a party in her honor."

A breathy chuckle left Azriel's lips before he could stop it. "So my fiancée will be dressed like a goddess while I am in leathers at a party to mock us?"

Cassian shifted slightly. "We've always worn leathers to Hewn City, Az. It's to honor our heritage." Rhys just inclined his head to Cassian and nodded. "Y/n wears leathers."

"She has never worn a single set in the 2 years we've been together. There isn't even a set in her closet."

"There's several sets in her closet here," Rhys said quietly. "All set up for pink siphons. 14 of them." Cassian and Azriel couldn't help their chuckles. "Imagine a blonde Illyrian with pink siphons, Azriel, its quite the sight." Rhys smiled fondly, eyes glimmering with pride despite everything. "She's-" he looked up, searching for the perfect word for his daughter. "She's my everything. And I've done a horrible job showing her that."

Azriel sucked in a deep breath. "I won't mediate this, Rhys. This is a you two thing. Not an us three thing."

Azriel knew now why you were estranged from your family. Nyx was their golden child. Constantly praised, admired, in the spotlight. He was, and still is, their reminder of how they had almost died to pass along their love. He could do no wrong, never be wrong, and was treated as such.

You, on the other hand, were the second child. The significantly younger one Nyx learned to plant blame on and watch as you were scolded and seen as "the problem" as you had told him you were now addressed as in Hewn City and Illyria. You had been raised by Ness more than Feyre and Rhys, passed off to them until your powers bloomed at 16, and suddenly your father found you interesting again. With a lack of a spymaster, he exploited you, forcing you to touch people and feel their emotions, when they lied, their stories. Forcing you to live trauma over and over of females clipped in the mountains, of tortured traitors in dungeons, of Nesta's dark phase.

You locked your powers so far away one day, so deep inside you that even you hardly could access them unless you actually wanted to. It had been just before your 18th birthday that happened. And then the fight that sealed the casket happened. Rhys had verbally lashed you. Attacked you for refusing to let him use your "one worth" to keeping his family and court safe.

Your father had said he saw you as useless, and everyone else just stood by watching.

Like they had with Nesta.

Only you were just a child. Not a head strong warrior, a goddess in fae form.

You packed the basics and spent the night on the streets in a dark alley.

Even if you and Rhys magically fixed things, even if you forgave but not forgot, Azriel would never. How you were raised, how you've been treated, it forever will taint his vision of Rhys, Feyre, and Nyx. The abuse they unleashed on you, they'd never make up for.

Rhys nodded, eyes glancing to the doorway as footsteps approached. "I would never ask you to fix my relationship with her when I need to fix my relationship with you as well. I just need you to know I love her. That she will always be my girl."

"You have an odd way of showing her your lo-"

The door opened, and you stepped in, immediately going to Azriel's side and eyeing the box. "Dad. Cassian." You opened the lid and nodded. "Well. At least it's sparkly."

Rhys cocked his head. "You don't like it?"

Azriel watched as you paused. The bond flared with conflicting emotions. Anger, hurt, longing. How long had it been since Rhys held you? Since he told you he loved you without you having to earn it. "No, I like it. I just know what this means. You never give me nice things unless Hewn City is involved." The last sentence trailed off quietly, and pain flooded the bond.

Rhys looked down, nodding as he scratched the stubble growing on his face. "I am sorry. I just-"

"Please don't. You never mean it." You grabbed the box. "I will wear it and find jewelry." You turned to Azriel. "Elain would like to speak with you. She said something about a garden you two planned together and how I'll never understand the love you two share. How it breaks bonds and shakes worlds."

The relationship between you and Azriel had been messy since dinner two weeks ago. You two had your first fight over, of course, Elain and her rekindled love, lust, whichever felt appropriate at the moment for Azriel. He ignored the constant letters, the random headache powders, the message coded flowers.

He had reached out to Lucien, asking the male what had happened. According to the new Lord of Day, Elain and he had tried for 5 years, but the damage had been done. Lucien didn't trust Elain, Elain spent most of their time comparing the two of them, and nothing Lucien gave her was enough. He had been the one to reject the bond, and after 7 years, he had found himself heavily involved in a relationship with a now fully fae Vassa and Jurian.

Rhys and Cassian both gave him gentle looks of concern as he held your hand, preventing you from walking away. He stared Rhys in the eyes, doing something he felt Rhysand had never done to prove a point. "I'd rather go home with you, so if you were planning on winnowing, we might as well go together." He picked you.

They watched as all tension left your body, as security eased into your face. "Then let's go home." Azriel grabbed the leathers, nodding to Rhys and Cassian before following you.

Azriel's elbow locked around your neck, hand squeezing your hip as he pinned you below him and continued taking you from behind. You both had no interest in heading to Hewn City, so you had distracted him, walking into your shared bedroom in just a pretty blue silk night gown offering to give your body to him for what he had done, the message he had sent.

You were supposed to be getting ready, but instead, Azriel was growling above you, pumping into you carelessly. Your toes curled at how deep he was hitting, at how good he felt, how good he felt every time. "So close," you whispered. "So fucking close-" You were moaning his name when the knock on the door came.

A shadow rushed to him, curling his ear as he paused. "It's Elain," he muttered. "She's relentless." You whined below him, hips wiggling to get friction back. "Baby,"

"Please," you begged. "It's been weeks, I've been so good, please, daddy."

Azriel felt his cock twitch at the use of the name. He'd longed for a moment to erase the memory of what happened, and you had just given it to him. He felt you moving your hips, doing the best you could while pinned to the mattress to fuck yourself on his cock.

You were his focus, the rest of the world melting away as he heard your moans turning into screams of his name. You sounded so pretty coming for him, crying for him, begging for more for less for everything as oversensitivity took over. You especially looked pretty dripping his seed when he pulled out of you. Once again, he had chosen you.

You two laid there, holding each other until claws came for both of you. Scratching angerly as your mental shields and causing you to bury your head into Azriel's chest. "We need to get ready unless you want him showing up here next," Azriel played with your hair, scratching your scalp lightly. "Let's see how many siphons I blow through."

After 2 sets of siphons being destroyed, you were currently dragging Azriel down the streets of Velaris and to your brother and father's tailor. You knew she'd be able to fit and dress him in seconds and that he'd look every bit handsome as he deserved. You were pissed when you saw he had been gifted Illyrian leathers and not a suit. Your father was out of touch with Azriel. With you.

"Helena," you smiled at the older female. "We need help."

Azriel felt stiff. Staring at the doors of Heen City as a shocked page boy ran to inform Rhys and Feyre of the late arrival. You two were about to upstage them in their own court. The guests of honor arriving late and being introduced after the Lord and his Lady.

You would have upstaged them by yourself anyway, though. Azriel admired you one more time. Rhys had picked well, though you both would never admit it. The dress had a see-through bodice of black lace and floral applicates with thin straps. It led to a satin skirt that was tight and then flared out to your hips. The left leg had a high slit, showing the toned beautiful skin Azriel was begging to cover in his kisses. You had picked a simple necklace, a single tear drop shaped sapphire with matching earring and a matching bracelet. Your ring sat on manicured nails painted a soft shade of pink to white coffin head tips. Heels graced your feet, the red underside flashing when you walked. "Gods, you are stunning," he finally whispered out in a hoarse voice.

"And all yours," you looked at him, adjusting the lapel of his jacket. "Forever." Your mask slipped on as the doors opened, a collective gasp ringing through the room over who was on your arm followed by whispers.

Azriel knew this song and dance, walking you into one thousand eyes staring and gawking. He hated seeing you like this as you were ushered to the dance floor. The first dance of the night had been delayed, and the fae were restless.

Once you were centered on the floor, you turned facing him, eyes cold and distant as you disassociated from this place. He placed a hand on your hip, leaving his other to his side where both of your sat.

It was unfair of Feyre and Rhysand to expect you to do this traditional waltz, but you followed Azriel's steps as the music began, that first note echoing in your bones and soul. Your parents had claimed your first dance with your mate. The first true dance you two would ever share, and it had to be done in front of hundreds of fae who spat your direction when the Lord and Lady were busy.

Azriel had decided he hated this side of you. He was studying you like a project. You were a different female down here. Cold, uncaring, forced into this role of the High Lord's daughter.

Did these fae know you took far too much creamer in your coffee?

That you were afraid of storms?

That you only ate fruit pastries because you found chocolate too bitter?

You were Rhysand through and through with that mask on. But inside, inside Azriel knew you carried the very light of what your grandfather built. You were a true dreamer, and you could rattle the very stars themselves if your father would just give you the chance.

If Rhysand would just believe in you.

Azriel decided in that moment what the answer to your happiness was. He'd take you tonight and you two would leave.

Fuck expectations.

Fuck the rules.

Fuck your family.

Azriel would pick you for the third time today, and you two would leave.

He just had to get you through this visit at Hewn City first, and as he watched Elain shatter a champagne flute in her hands, he knew that was going to be a mission all on its own.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanager @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish

Azriel-

@elle4404

Small World Taglist-

@amara-moonlight @iimichie @acourtofbatboydreams @justasillylittlegoofyguy @janesalvarerelochanarcheron @hungryforbatboys @sidthedollface2 @hunt1bryce

#acotar #acotar x reader #azriel acotar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #azriel x feysands daughter!reader #az x reader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster

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toki-toro · 1 month

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|| Part 1/5!

Gave myself the project/challenge of drawing just about every character from this silly musical :o)

Ramblings about each cat design and a brisk sprinkle of hcs below the cut off 👇

I say ‘just about everyone’ bc I didn’t include every single swing in the cats I have planned out. But there’s already like over 40 separate characters to draw and I included the Raffish crew in the list cause I rlly enjoy them. So I think that all makes up for the lack of unnamed male swing #2 that was featured in Broadway one time and had no pictures taken of him at any point.

These first eight took me like a month to finish. I’m hoping that none of the other parts will take me nearly that long but um :) no promises that I won’t completely drop this entire idea once I’ve realized it’s dumb

Whenever I draw a cat I pretty much always combine a bunch of aspects from different productions that I personally like. Nothing drastically different from what’s seen in a typical replica. Basically this is a big ref sheet for me for if I ever want to draw any of them again

I've changed some of their 'three words' if they either didn't fit my personal interpretation, or if they just never had any in the first place. But I do promise none of them stray too far from their original concepts

Anywho, onto the kitties !!

Munkustrap ~ Integrity, Discipline, Dignified

Makeup and wig very much based off of earlier 80's - 90's ish productions, such as a few actors from US tours 1 and 4. Love a good slender Munk with angular shapes;.. . .Each stripe is filled with the respective colour of fluff, so he'd naturally be very fuzzy and probably a pain to maintain

As for hcs, I only really see him being an Old Deut son, and maybe a few others…. So I’m ignoring whichever London production that said Tugger was related to them, even tho i realize that him being in the family is like one of the most popular hcs in this entire fandom lol. I personally just don’t see it but I’m NOT against it at all

Rum Tum Tugger ~ Rebellious, Perverse, Preening

Rocky Tam Tam! I went full force on Tugger since ik his original design had SO much potential to be rlly fun

He does in fact have a harness selection to choose from and he changes which one he’s wearing depending on his mood of the day

Rick Sparks and David Hibbard from Broadway, actors from US tours 1, 4, and 5, aand early 2000's Japan productions were inspirations for this big guy.

Special shout out to that 90's Mexico Tugger as well.. one of my idols 💋

Old Deuteronomy ~ Wise, Commanding, Spiritual

Deut is supposed to be trans in the 2019 adaptation and NOBODY told me. I was so mindblowned by that information.. yes Judi Dench… thank you Judi Dench ily.. .

Um I think this is literally just Ken Page from when he was on Broadway. His pigtails(??) are cute :) Do not zoom into his drawing he looks like a literal carpet

Victoria ~ Inquisitive, Romantic, Un- selfconcious

I think she’d be semi blind and very shy when it comes to verbally speaking. Thats just the kind of vibe I get whenever she mistakenly makes herself the centre of attention during the musical, like her entire solo, the pas de deux, and a few other notable parts. Isn’t rlly able to see the audience nor the people watching her do whatever. She can hear the music just fine and can recognize the vague blurs of those around her, altho she is never certain about how the others around her are dancing nor when it’s the appropriate time to just do whatever. So she does whatever the music is persuading her to do at any given moment.

Vicky’s supposed to be a complimentary opposite of Jemima, so she’s brilliant at dancing but not much of a singer (doesn’t sing in the ensemble), and Jemima is vice versa.

I gave her 80’s(?) Paris/Amsterdam inspired pigtails. .. they’re so adorable on her <3 Makeup is kinda early broadway-ish and a sprinkle of Warsaw with the long under lashes.

Bustopher Jones ~ Foppish, Gluttonous, Dapper

Bestie shows up for 5 minutes max, sings about how he love a good luncheon and then runs off into the night, never to be mentioned by anyone again. Banger character

His is pretty basic tbh! Even in some of the non replica productions his design stayed relatively the same compared to replicas lol. No improving upon perfection ig. Based mostly on Tony Timberlake fromm early London. Bustopher is underrated but I can understand why because what’s there to even say about this guy

I LOVE it when they give Bustopher face lines and detailing. Gives him so much personality. So posh so fun. Yet that aspect only adds to how many old people I end up drawing. If I draw one more wrinkle I’m going to turn into one

Jennyanydots ~ Motherly, Controlling, Complacent

Grgrgr Jenny gave me the most trouble out of anyone… . And I love Jenny sm </3

I initially tried drawing her in the outfit she wears during the tap number as per request, but it was HARD for me to make it look any good. I think I went through maybe four separate drafts until I managed to stop myself before I went insane. So no tap.

Super duper inspired by specific actresses in Broadway, such as Carol Dilley & Anna McNeely. Guys she was pink then. Look at what they took from us. And Anna looks exactly like a Jenny rn without all that theatre makeup. She was literally born for the role idk what else you want me to say

Skimbleshanks! ~ Caring, Punctual, Self-Regarding

YAYY I was the most excited for him. Little train obsessed lad dad ❤️

I think in like once year at a UK tour Geof Garratt wore thigh high warmers and they’re so good grgrgrgaheggr. I don’t think there’s any pictures of it but there is a video of which you’re required to watch. I could unironically gush about his performance for several hours, he’s my absolute favourite Skimble 💋💋 Oh and he’s not dubbed by some Scottish dude this time around which is awesome sauce

Whenever I draw this ginger I typically go with a specific makeup look from Robert Burnett in Broadway.. it’s so good and so fun to draw. I never stray from taking creative liberties at all, but he’s peak Skimble imo. I drew a more angular (and lopsided oops lol) version of the wig but it’s basically the same colour-wise.

Grizabella ~ Proud, Hurt, Indomitable

A big sobbing mess :( Griz makes me sad. Couldn’t make grey or brown hair look good in this case so I went with some of the darker looks like Linda Balgord/Liz Callaway from Broadway and actresses from US tour 5. Kinda wish I went with the design Judi Dench was given cuz WOW it’s actually pretty good.

Problem I had with my first draft of her is that she looked way too ugly. Now this time she looks too pretty. I can’t win

Referenced Jacqui Scott for the main idea of the makeup and pose. heavy amounts of mascara tears stained on her face is such an underused element. Those girlies gotta go all out to make me feel emotional. Like damn she really was suffering

I went wild on that mascara but it’s okay it looks kinda cool. Imagine she was crying a waterfall

Next part will finish off the rest of the song cats liekk Rumpel/Mungo, Jelly and whoever else isn’t included here idk I already forgot

#cats #cats musical #cats the musical #my hcs #doodles #munkustrap #rum tum tugger #old deuteronomy #victoria #bustopher jones #jennyanydots #skimbleshanks #grizabella

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flowerandblood · 4 months

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The Void of the Sky

[ canon • Ettore x doctor's assistant • female ]

[ warnings: dubcon, sex content, smut, angst, domination kink, aggressive behavior, rape attempts, violence, swearing, unprotected sex, description of wounds ]

[ description: Ettore decides to take part in a space experiment from which he guesses he will never return. Already on the ship, his attention is drawn to a young girl who turns out to be the assistant of the fucked-up doctor Dibs. Obsession, self-destructive behavior, verbal and physical aggression, sexual tension. ]

Author's note: This is my first story with Ettore, which was inspired by a request, it was supposed to be just a oneshot. This was very strange and disturbing to write, let me know if you would like further parts describing the story of this couple!

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He already knew this when he sat in this fucking ship, when he saw her in front of him – her tired, terrified gaze, her resignation, her fear. She looked at him as if believing that no matter what he had done in the past he understood her and what she was experiencing, that they were going through what was about to happen to them together.

What they were doomed to.

They glanced at each other all the way to the space station from which they were to fly away never to return. He watched her wordlessly – her long lashes, her pleasantly rounded cheeks, her plump, puffy lips glistening in the disturbing blue light.

He thought, looking boredly around the ship at the other female faces, that if he had to choose which one he would fuck first, he would choose her.

She was pretty, her figure girlish, she seemed fragile to him – he decided that he would easily squash her to the mattress or the floor, one or two punches of his fist on that soft face and she would let him do to her whatever he wanted.

He knew that, like him, all the crew members selected for the mission were criminals sentenced to life imprisonment and he wondered what such an inconspicuous person could have done.

Perhaps she was not as vulnerable as she seemed to him at first glance.

He grinned involuntarily at the thought, deciding that he needed to find out.

How much force he would have to put in to get her to finally stop resisting him, whether he would have to hit her face with his fist until she lost consciousness, making her look like a squashed tomato, or whether it would be enough for him to choke her a little, ordering her to shut up the fuck.

He sighed quietly, tilting his head back, feeling a pleasant pulsing in his cock at the thought, recognising that sooner or later he would put his plan into action.

He was patient.

As it turned out, she wasn't a regular crew member, but an assistant to Dr Dibs, that dumb whore playing God, who on top of that announced that there was a complete prohibition on sexual intercourse on the spaceship.

He would come into their office to give his sperm just to look at her; while Dr Dibs was sitting over the microscope, apparently selecting the most fertile ova, she was writing something, obviously taking notes, always looking at him when he came in – he would grin involuntarily, wondering if she had heard the smack of his hand against his balls while he was jerking off.

As he left, handing Dibs the vessel, he always looked at her, but she no longer bestowed a single glance on him, frustrating him.

"I want my treat." He growled in her direction, wishing she would bestow at least one fucking look on him and not act like a spoiled little bitch, but it was Dibs who would give him the pill, which he would immediately put in his mouth, not taking his eyes off her as he left.

He knew she sensed what he wanted to do to her and was prepared for it.

It was a simple, animal, primal need.

He could satisfy it with anyone or by himself, but he always came back to her anyway.

To his displeasure, it turned out that her position for some reason came with additional privileges, such as a separate cabin in which she slept.

She did not have to clean or tend the garden, her duties being limited to taking notes, treating wounds and overseeing the energy system of the entire spaceship.

She was the opposite of Dr Dibs and her cool sociopathy – he knew that on several occasions she had helped the female part of the crew to get rid of the unwanted effect of her experiment.

Once, while wiping the floor on his knees, he witnessed Dibs slap her, apparently realizing that she was acting behind her back.

"Who the fuck do you think you are? Don't you ever do that again. Do you understand? Your job is to make reports." She hissed, digging her finger into her chest – she snorted under her breath, staring at her with pity and moved ahead.

"You will never become a mother." She said calmly, walking past him, throwing him one intense look before disappearing behind the door of her cabin.

He watched her like a predator, her routine, her habits – he knew exactly her schedule, hours and days of the week when she replaced Dibs in her duties.

One day, knowing that she would be alone and the rest of the crew were busy with their tasks, he left the garden and headed for her office, deciding that this was the day.

He stood in the doorway without making a sound, simply looking at her, her back turned to him, bent over some pills which she was obviously sorting.

He approached her silently, his large hand muffling the scream of surprise that broke from her throat – he cursed loudly as she, with a swift, sure movement, stabbed his arm with a scalpel which she apparently had hidden in the pocket of her medical apron.

He let her go, enraged, pulling the blade out of his arm with a hiss and slapped her across the face with all his might. She fell to the ground as if stunned and stupefied – with a brutal movement he flipped her onto her back and crushed her with his body, trying to slide down his trousers.

"− don't you fuckin' dare −" He growled, grabbing her quickly by the wrist in which she held another scalpel. He snatched it forcibly from between her fingers and threw it far to the floor with a clang of steel, his hands quickly searched her pockets for other sharp objects – he grinned under his breath as he felt a razor blade under his fingertips.

"− I see you've prepared well, hm? − like to struggle a bit first? −" He asked with some kind of amusement while she drew in the air loudly and slammed him on the head with her forehead using all her strength – he growled with rage and punched her in the face with his fist, clenching his fingers on her cheeks, a big red bruise under her eye.

She didn't scream or lash out, she just looked at him, breathing hard, trying to push him away – he wondered how there was so much fucking strength and will to fight in such a small petite being.

"− Ettore, for fuck's sake − use the box −" She growled angrily, feeling him rub his swollen erection between her thighs, an impatient, loud sigh of pleasure escaped his lips.

"− I prefer your cunt − tight and warm −" He gasped as he grabbed the material of her panties with an aggressive, sure motion of his fingers, ripping them off in one violent stroke – she surprised him when she lifted herself up and bit his cheek as hard as if she wanted to bite off a big piece of his skin.

"− FUCK − FUCK − LET GO, YOU FUCKIN' WHORE! −" He groaned hitting her on the head with his open palm – he heard a scream behind him a moment later, Dibs and Monte ran into the office, dragging him away.

She was lying on her back breathing heavily, looking at him and shook her head disapprovingly, as if he was a small disobedient child, her lips red with his blood.

"− let him go, Monte −" She said softly, adjusting the material of her skirt, Dr Dibs helped her up and looked at him tightening her lips, her brow furrowed in disapproval.

"− fucking animal − you're prohibited from using the box for five days −" Dibs ordered, and he snarled under his breath, pulling himself out of Monte's grasp and left, calling her a stupid old cunt under his breath, rubbing his sore cheek.

Small wounds in the shape of her teeth remained on his face for the next few days, making him realize that the matter would not be as easy as he thought.

She was unpredictable.

Just like him.

He would annoy and provoke Monte and Tcherny to get into a fight with them only to have them beat the crap out of him, and he would end up at her door with cut lips, bruises and other injuries that she was obliged to take care of.

She did this, but she always strapped him to the doctor's chair first, tightening special black belts around his wrists, attached to the whole structure at the sides of his body so that he couldn't touch her.

His manhood throbbed greedily in his trousers as she leaned over him, her face calm and focused, sad, her hand holding cotton swabs soaked in antiseptic liquid to gently wash his swollen, sore wounds.

She never used latex gloves, as if she was thus allowing him at least a little intimacy, the touch of her naked body.

He pressed his cheek to her palm, closing his eyes, and she froze for a moment, letting him feel the warmth and softness of her skin – she smelled of soap, her fingers long and delicate, made only for admiration, not defence.

He sighed when she stroked his cheek with her thumb, not opening his eyes – he could feel her looking at him, her warm breath enveloping his face.

"You have to stop." She said quietly, but her soft fingers didn't stop brushing his face. They ran over it like a map, touching his mouth, nose, cheeks, eyebrows, jaw so gently and tenderly that he just fell asleep – he thought he felt her warm, moist lips pressed against his forehead for a moment.

When he woke up, he was already unstrapped, there was no one in the office.

Eventually he began to come to her for no reason, circling around the doctor's office pretending with curiosity to look at what stood on the shelves and in the cabinets – he saw out of the corner of his eye that there were always a few scalpels lying next to her on the desk, just in case.

"You shouldn't be here." She sighed, bent over her notes as usual. He hummed under his breath, glancing at one of the containers filled with pills – he shook it, and they clattered loudly inside.

"You don't take part in these fucked-up experiments of Dibs. You don't use the box. Why?" He asked casually, putting his hands in the pockets of his red trousers, turning and heading towards the gynaecology chair, looking at it intrigued.

"I prefer the touch of my own hand. It's soft and warm." She replied calmly, writing something down quickly.

He glanced at her over his shoulder, wondering whether or not she would have had time to grab a scalpel in her hand if he had stepped behind her and knocked her over along with the chair.

"What about the touch of someone else's hand? Hm?" He grunted, heading towards her, but she stood up; he stopped seeing that her hand immediately reached for the blade and clamped down on it confidently, her breasts rising and falling in accelerated breath.

"No." She said warningly.

"I think about it every day, you know? About what I would do to you, how wet your pussy would be for me. Cuz I know you're wet now. Always lookin' at me with those big fuckin' puppy eyes." He muttered, making another attempt, walking forward with a slow, lazy step, her hand holding the blade raised.

"Put it the fuck down. We'll do it either your way or my way. No third option. Take of your panties. C'mon." He encouraged her with a nod, not pulling his hand out of his trousers, his swollen, throbbing cock clearly outlined against the material of his pants.

She stared at him in disbelief, breathing loudly – he bit his bottom lip seeing that she lowered her hand slowly, her gaze scared and distrustful, full of doubt.

"We'll do it my way." She mumbled quietly.

"Fine." He replied indifferently, feeling that he was completely hard, waiting for her move.

He watched as she flicked sheets of paper off her desk with her free hand, sitting down on it, still holding the scalpel in her other hand.

"Come." She said softly, spreading her thighs wide – he approached her, without asking pulling her shoes off her feet, sliding the material of her underwear off her thighs, his movements confident and swift.

He stood in front of her, with a nimble flick of his fingers releasing his swollen, throbbing erection from under his trousers and drew her to him, putting his arm around her waist – she placed her hand on his chest, her lips parted slightly, her gaze hazy and dark, her body trembling in his embrace.

"− don't be brutal − take it slow −" She muttered in a shaky voice, and he only snorted under his breath with a grin, recognising that he had waited so long for this that he could actually enjoy the moment, feeling that he wouldn't last long anyway.

He grasped his manhood in his hand giving it a few sure, quick squeezes and guided its pink, thick head against her entrance, glistening from her wetness in the red light.

They both sighed as he began to push into her, doing so at an agonising pace from which they both closed their eyes, her fleshy insides hot and tight, pulsing all around him, sucking him inside.

"− ah − yes −" She whispered and he licked his lips, forcing her to fit it all in with deep, slow thrust of his fat cock, his large palms digging into the pleasantly soft skin of her plump buttocks as she mewled from exertion.

"− fuck −" She mumbled, obviously surprised by his size and how shocking the sensation was after such a long period of sexual abstinence, his manhood all sticky with her moisture.

She put her arms around his neck as he slid out of her slowly almost all the way, only to sink again into her warm walls with a calm, unhurried motion of his hips, both of them watching as his swollen length spread her wide open.

"− fuckin' knew it − just look at it − such a perfect little pussy −" He purred out delighted with the sensation, never having done it this way before in his life, his cock twitched all over with pleasure deep inside her, making him know he wouldn't last long.

Although he could just take what he wanted, he liked what he felt, the heat and tension wonderfully filling his lower abdomen each time the thrust of his hips forced him inside her warm, pulsing core again.

He pressed his forehead against hers when he heard her first shy moans, running his lips over hers, puffy, moist and soft, not giving her full kisses, speeding up suddenly, their naked bodies smacking against each other with loud, sticky splats.

"− oh God −" She whimpered, stroking his neck and cheeks. She burshed his lips tentatively, looking up at him with dreamy eyes as his cock slammed deep into her delicate body again and again – he grabbed her by the hair with one hand, tilting her head back with a brutal movement of his arm.

"− when you need to fuck, you will come to me − if I catch you touching yourself, you'll suck my cock until you start chokin' on my cum, that's how many times I'm going to come down your throat − got it? −" He exhaled in between sure, deep, aggressive thrusts, his cock rooting into her faster and faster with loud slaps of his naked thighs against her buttocks, barely slipping out of her – he felt her clench hard on him at his words, giving him a wonderful squeeze from which he groaned low.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled, responding to his thrusts by bucking her hips out towards him – he snorted, smirking spitefully, somehow impressed by her devotion, his thighs all sticky from her moisture.

"− that's my girl − fuck, 'm close −" He gasped in delight, pounding into her like mad, the tips of his fingers digging into her hot, firm buttocks.

"− n-no, not inside me! −" She mewled out but he closed her mouth with his, forcing his tongue deep into her throat, muffling her moans, clamping his hands firmly on her ass so she couldn't escape him, cumming with a loud sigh of relief, his warm semen spilling deep inside her.

She cried out in rage and slapped his shoulder, clenching her eyes shut, coming hard on his cock. He felt convulsions run through her whole body, her walls began to clench against him and suck him inside – he kept pounding into her for a while with sloppy, messy thrusts of his hips.

He pushed her closer to him with a brutal gesture, embracing her around the waist, his other hand holding her hair so that her puffy, sweet lips didn't pull away from his, kissing her lazily for a while longer, continuing to rock inside her with the lewd click of their shared moisture.

He pressed his forehead against hers, breathing hard, looking at her with curiosity and satisfaction, thinking that perhaps they would find common ground after all.

"− see you tomorrow − and no fuckin' touching −"

_____

General Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@triscy @re-per @diiickbrainn @queenofshinigamis @eponaartemisa @zaldritzosrose @writerloversjm @lauzy87 @targaryenrealnessdarling @briefcollectivepersona @ginarely-blog @lcecgg

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amostnobleyandere · 1 year

Text

Yandere! Noble! Scaramouche x GN! Reader (Arranged Marriage)

A/N: hey look first post!!!! this blog is basically just a place to dump my thoughts on yanderes and situations w them// if you’re not comfortable w that, please leave!!! this is not the place for you

GN reader but!!! the word “bride” is used once so do w that what you will .

remember, this is a mature blog !!! don’t like don’t read!!!!!!!!

warning(s): male! yandere, toxic relationships, slightly narcissistic yandere, verbal abuse, child neglect, arranged marriage, toxic behavior, bad parenting skills, loneliness, obsession, yandere scaramouche, scaramouche is his own warningetc. etc.

Synopsis: there’s this specific scenario ive been thinking of lately : an enemies to lovers, but with a yandere that is particularly bitter and hasn’t really experienced an unconditional love before but then his initial hatred of you turns into an obsession. I thought scara was perfect for it :)

—————————

neither of you had wanted to get married; you, the child of the last bloodline of a falling noble family, and scaramouche, heir to one of the wealthiest and most prestigious names in the empire, would have never been pushed to marry under normal circumstances. it could only be assumed that fate had revealed its hand and placed its destiny upon you.

you had never even met the young man that society had branded as ruthlessly curt with a lash-like tongue. you had never expected to, considering how far apart you were, in different circles and in different worlds

he was the duchess’ nephew and only heir, and was untouchable in both stature and power. in contrast, your family name was declining rapidly. you knew why your mother and father had accepted the marriage proposal the day it came, and you knew why they decide not to tell you until the letter in reply had already been sent. you had no say in the matter

how you parents arranged a marriage between the two of you? well, you could certainly guess; noble ladies gossiped and gasped about the young man who was rich with a handsome face, but with an incredibly arrogant personality and a razor tongue that both reflected his wit and endless scorn. you thought that the rumors must have been over exaggerated, as they always were, but for the duchess to have to reach out to your family to find a spouse for her son? had all the other contestants being rejected, and now they were picking through the scraps that were left? or perhaps, had they rejected him?

now, you weren’t so sure

even then, some part of you had never thought they would agree to something like this; they had concluded that this was what was best for you, had even told you that you will live a much happier life if you were in a household that wasn’t always on the edge of crumbling and giving way to time; you could see that they did have the best of intentions. and still, you felt betrayed

unbeknownst to you, at the time, your fiancé had felt the same way toward his mother; the expression of his feelings on the matter, however, included a lot more yelling and rage in his questions as to why he was being dragged into this. he was used to being disappointed, but being so blatantly used?

unfortunately, scaramouche’s defiance was only met with a cold silence and a blank stare, and after he had vehemently denied to go along with the marriage, his mother had only said that nothing could be done. he had no choice in the matter.

and the gentle glint in her eyes, that had still remained their after all these years, that stayed as she firmly reprimanded him, only served to make him more furious.

and so, his resentment for you, the other victim in this situation, came naturally.

when he met you for the first time, his regularly crass and sarcastic attitude only got worse. you could see the embarrassment dawn on both your parents’ and his mother’s faces, cringing every time his voice got a little too loud or when he said something particularly blunt. he made snide comments on your upbringing, your title, even your clothing wasn’t spared the ruthless bite of his words. between his curt and cold attitude and your futile attempts at making conversation, you two didn’t exactly hit it off when you first met

and then, when you finally got sick of it and told him what exactly you thought of his words and his money and where he could shove them, his resentment turned into something much more personal: spite.

he reasoned that he had every right to hate you. to be overly rude and childish whenever you so much as got the idea to be five feet near him. he never asked for the marriage. he doesn’t care about how much it would benefit the two of you, and he’s long past trying to finally please his mother into loving him, so why should he have to act like the perfect husband for someone who is below him?

your parents seemed to love you plenty though. if their guilty eyes and shifty glances were anything to go by. even if they were shamelessly grabbing at the wealth and prestige of another family, he could tell that this marriage was meant for you and your future. even if you didn’t want it. even if you seemed to dread it. every time they brought you over for a scheduled date in the lonely garden at the back of the duchess’s estate, there seemed to be a subtle pain in their eyes.

perhaps, a paternal regret at having to make their child miserable so that they could eventually have the things they weren’t able to give them.

…well, it gave him more reason to torment you.

————————

there seemed to be no way out of the awkward meetings. your parents were hell bent on having scaramouche as your husband, and his mother was just as determined. so, when you did have to suffer through seeing each other, you kept trading thinly veiled insults, practically sulking every time you heard the others name, and bickering with the each other at every opportunity. it became a familiar routine for the two of you, to not get along and verbalize your frustrations through jabs and taunts

strangely enough, scaramouche grew fond of the bickering. you were practically the only person who would speak to him so casually. with so little respect and without fear of him blowing up. he thought it was refreshing. no one hardly ever talked to him anymore, and even a child that had everything and more could not curb his own loneliness by himself…he would never tell you that, though.

he thought that at least it was entertaining to tease you. actually, if you weren’t so annoying, he might have actually gone as far to say it’s pleasant having you in his company. It certainly beats the large, lonely house he had to wander every day.

plus, when was the last time he had talked this much? when someone had looked at him and acknowledged his existence without him having to work for it?

—————————

as the engagement progressed, you two ended up spending hours together every week, whether you wanted to or not, and while you were mentally and emotionally exhausted from the stress your parents were putting you through, he’s looking forward to your meetings like they’re the highlight of his week…it’s ridiculous, he thinks, and he thinks, and he thinks, and oh god now he can’t get you out of his head.

then suddenly, you’re calling it off. the whole engagement. miraculously, you guilted your parents into going back on what they had agreed to.

his mother is appalled and frustrated, a bit exasperated now that she has to find another suitable bride for her son.

scaramouche is beyond furious.

he goes quiet with rage. he’s more snappish now, towards the maids, towards everyone. his attitude is no longer his usual arrogance and crudeness. his usual bitterness rose into an explosive temper and ruthless training just to keep himself confined to a state of sanity. there is, once again, for the first time in many, many years, an unmistakable fear of abandonment that is raging in his head. he feels so wronged.

and it’s your fault.

and then, he goes silent. if they thought it was bad when he talked, see what they think when he’s quiet.

for his mother, it’s unnerving. to the servants, it’s downright terrifying.

no one realizes that he’s calculating. no one really expects it. everyone assumed this was one big temper tantrum after suffering a huge blow to his pride.

scaramouche was really only clutching his shattered heart after giving it to someone who threw it away.

—————————

what he wants at first is revenge.

that’s what he wants to think he wants. he wants to make things even between the two of you; make you suffer like you made him. force his way into your mind in the worst way possible, and keep himself there to get the message across.

for the first few agonizing days after the annulment, he thinks; maybe that he should tamper with your parents businesses and make you a pauper, someone who is reduced to having to take care of their parents after you fall from the graces of society. and then, after that, he’s hoping you’d come crawling back to him, and ask for his help and his hand. and he’d oh-so graciously accept you back into his life; not before making you beg for it, though.

then again, perhaps toying with whatever lover you have would be a good way to get back at you. he just assumes that you have one, because you must, for you to just abandon him like that.

you should have just stayed.

either way, he’s going to make you regret it.

—————————

it doesn’t take much for scaramouche to convince his mother to have a much needed talk with your parents.

and despite everything she’s done, ei does want to make her son happy. she wasn’t blind after all; he’s always seemed to be on edge, ever since the accident, but he had changed in the short amount of time he had know you. the boy she had failed to raise and care for, someone who was now so far out of her reach, seemed to be more calm and content when you were by his side. it had been a long time since she had seen her nephew look forward to something this much.

whether you want the engagement or not matters less to her.

—————————

and so, your resistance all comes apart so easily. Ei is one of the most powerful people in the empire, so it doesn’t take much effort before she’s luring your parents into throwing you back to them and into scaramouche’s waiting arms. It would be the least she could do as his mother

it’s only a matter of time before you’re resting in the palm of his hand once again; the engagement is back on, running smoothly towards your fast approaching wedding, like your little rebellious mishap never even happened

scaramouche is reveling in it. he feels as though he’s won. and in truth, he has. he imagines the look on your face, how you’ll have to greet him eventually, look him in the eyes after tossing him to the side and then losing, and thinks about how he’s going to make your reunion as painful as possible when you do meet again

his wishes are fulfilled when not even a month later are you pushed into the expansive garden by servants and abandoned by them even quicker, watching them scurry away with pale but oddly relieved faces. once again, you were meant to suffer through another lunch date after you thought you had finally escaped and left the gloomy estate behind forever.

the familiar stone pathway and expansive flora only served to bring back bad memories of your failed attempt to gain your freedom and reminded you of what you would have to look forward to for the rest of your life. it’s only the scuffle of boots against the ground that brought you back to reality.

you knew exactly who was standing behind you.

—————————

when scaramouche saw you standing there, muscles taught and shoulders tensed as you refused to look at him, he took his time observing you, savoring the moment and committing it to memory.

his slow and deliberate footsteps did little to calm your fraying nerves. You were both surrounded by tall hedges and the gentle sound of water coming from nearby fountains. no one else was around. You were completely isolated, with only your fiancé- no, your crazed future husband- keeping you company.

and as always, his presence was suffocating.

“you know, trying to run away from me was cute, but it got annoying after the joke was over. did you really think you could go against a duchy? don’t make me laugh.” his voice had a high and condescending lit to it that seemed to grate against your ears. your stony facade crumbled soon after, instantly revealing the confusion and panic that welled in your chest.

“…why did you do it?” your voice came out hoarse and low. you whirled around, finally looking into those violet eyes. scaramouche felt a shiver of excitement run up his spine as your watery gaze met his.

“you hated this engagement just as much as I did. why did you drag me back here? we both could’ve been free.” a bitter laugh escaped your throat that pathetically choked off into a sob.

he laughed lowly as his head titled down, shielding his eyes from you. the sight made you shudder involuntarily.

“‘drag you back?’ deary, you belong to me. you did the moment I decided I wanted you. what you want doesn’t matter anymore. You don’t know what’s good for yourself, clearly.”

when he lifted his head back up to meet your eyes, he was smiling. the soft turn of his lips wasn’t full of cruelty or malice, scorn or hatred, and somehow that made the uncharacteristically gentle look so, so much worse.

scaramouche picked up your limp hand, gently turning it over, and slipped a ring onto it. it was like putting a heavy shackle on a caged bird; it was needless and unnecessary, you were already trapped. the world did not need anything else but the duchess’s final word to let everyone know who you belonged to.

but, as you stood there staring blankly ahead, you noticed scaramouche seemed genuinely happy to see the band resting on your finger.

the smile he wore turned more playful, more mocking, as those piercing eyes looked at you as if you were pitiful and small, beneath him, something that needed guidance

and his purple eyes locked with yours as he slowly pulled you to him and brought you into a soft kiss.

—————————

“Give me your love. Give me your validation. Hand yourself over to me, body, mind, and soul.”

“And what if I don’t want to?”

“Darling, do you think you have a choice?”

#scaramouche #yandere x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere genshin #yandere #yandere genshin impact #romantic yandere #male yandere #genshin impact x reader #scaramouche x reader #yandere wanderer x reader #yander wanderer #genshin impact #genshin

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venusstorm · 2 years

Text

𝙇𝙡𝙤𝙮𝙙 𝙃𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙣 𝙛𝙡𝙪𝙛𝙛…𝙘𝙖𝙪𝙨𝙚 𝙬𝙝𝙮 𝙣𝙤𝙩?

*𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘥𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳𝘰𝘶𝘴 𝘮𝘦𝘯 𝘴𝘰𝘧𝘵>>*

Masterlist | w/c: 650

*𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘍𝘭𝘶𝘧𝘧, 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘴𝘵

*𝘚𝘰𝘧𝘵!𝘓𝘭𝘰𝘺𝘥 𝘏𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘯 𝘹 𝘪𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘦 𝘧𝘦𝘮𝘢𝘭𝘦!𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

୨♡୧

“You mad at me, Princess?” Lloyd coos.

You scowl, turning your head away as he tries to kiss your neck. He reaches for your hand, but you yank it out and flip to the other side of the bed before he gets the chance.

“Oh, so you’re really mad at me tonight.”

He sighs, pushing aside the covers and moving closer to you. His hand rests on your lower back, rubbing it softly in hopes of you breaking your silence.

“Just let me help you.” His tone is gentle, understanding that getting upset wouldn’t make your little attitude disappear.

“Just leave me alone,” you mutter.

“Baby…you can talk to me. I know—"

His presence and proximity begin to overwhelm you, and quickly you find yourself verbally lashing out. “I said. Leave. Me. Alone.”

His movements stop and quickly you feel a dip in the bed as he slides his sweatpants back on and exits the room without another word. Your heart drops but your pride keeps you in place, huffing as the bedroom door shuts, leaving you alone with his lingering scent.

Tears spring from your eyes as you try your best to push the thoughts away.

He doesn’t actually want you. He’s gone for days, sometimes weeks at a time. He’ll find someone prettier, less needy. For fucks sake he’s Lloyd Hansen, why would he settle down with you of all people?

You constantly battled with insecurity, anxious that the love you have for others would never truly be reciprocated.

Lloyd would do anything for you, yet you’re laying here, scared that one day he’d get up and leave and never return.

And it only worsened when he was away for work, just you alone in this big house, painting and waiting like Rapunzel trapped in her tower.

As time passed you grew frantic. You latched onto his pillow, inhaling his scent until you grew dizzy.

A soft knock sounds on the door and unknowingly you release a heavy sigh of relief. He came back.

“Princess? I got you something.”

The door swings open, revealing a tin of your favorite cookies from the bakery near town, held tightly within his hands.

“They didn’t have milk chocolate so I got fudge. I hope that’s o—"

His face drops once he sees the tears streaming down your cheeks. You’re hiccuping, sniffling into your shirtsleeve with pure guilt. “I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Lloyd drops the cookies onto the dresser, racing to your side. “I hate seeing you like this, Princess. Just tell me what’s wrong and I swear I’ll do everything in my power to mend it.”

You hiccup. “It’s hard.”

“What’s hard, baby?”

“Being without you for so long. Waiting. I— I can’t stop thinking the worst. What if this isn’t the life you want? What if I’m not the life you want?”

He frowns, his eyebrows furrowed because Lloyd can’t possibly imagine a life where you weren’t his sweet girl. His Princess. “I’ll always want you,” he assures.

Lloyd presses his forehead against yours. His steady breath tickles your nose, his lips parted to speak. “Being away from you is the hardest part of my job. I’ll be bruised and bloody, a gun aimed at someone’s forehead and yet, the only thing on my mind is you. Always just wanna get home to you.”

You sob into his shoulder, your arms wrapping around his neck as you release a floodgate of emotions.

“I’m sorry for snapping at you. I know I’m being stupid. I know you love me. It’s just…sometimes I get scared.”

“Hey, shh. It’s okay, pretty girl. I know it gets hard for you. Don’t ever feel guilty for feeling emotions. Just talk to me next time and we can work through it together. Okay?”

You nod, your eyes glazed and wide as you finally look at his piercing gaze. “Okay.”

Lloyd grins as he pushes himself off the ground, pressing his soft lips against yours. You groan as he grows rougher, his body joining you beneath the tangled mess of sheets.

#lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen angst #lloyd hansen fluff #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen #the gray man #chris evans characters #lloyd hansen x black reader #hurt/comfort #insecure reader

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caffeinewitchcraft · 2 years

Text

Cinderella Doesn’t Believe in Fairytales (pt.6)

summary: Cinderella finds her friend...and his real identity.

(part 1) (part 2) (part 3). (Part 4) (part 5)

“You kept your promise,” Cinderella says. She leans her head back to look into the dark canopy of the oak tree. The moon shines through the gaps in the leaves. The magic her friend carries with him slides through the branch. “I’m here.”

“You’re here,” her friend says. A wash or warmth drifts over Cinderella’s face, coaxing her eyes shut. “Don’t look at the magic.”

“It doesn’t hurt me,” Cinderella says. She closes her eyes anyway and smiles. “The dresses are beautiful.”

“I knew you’d pick the green,” her friend says. There’s a long pause. Finally, he says, “Thank you. For coming.”

How odd the words sound! Cinderella is never thanked. It makes her feel full, somehow. Confident. She wants to share the feeling with her friend. “Thank you for keeping your promise.”

There’s no verbal reaction from her friend, but she can tell he’s happy. The moonlight is warmer and the leaves rustle though there’s no breeze. “My pleasure.”

“My stepfamily is here,” Cinderella says after a moment. She smiles and stretches her arms out in front of her. “They look beautiful.”

“No, they don’t,” her friend says. She imagines he’d be curling his lip if he had one. His aura slinks around the tree. “One of them is wearing purple. Doesn’t she know better?”

“It’s lilac.”

“She’ll soon find out if that saves her from the Queen.”

If Cinderella were kind, she’d be concerned by that ominous promise. But Cinderella is selfish because she says, “You saw her?”

“…yes,” her friend says. The courtyard warms another few degrees. “I, er, haven’t told you everything about me.”

Cinderella raises her eyebrows and bites her tongue. She wants to say, we haven’t even exchanged names. Instead she says, “Like how you’re a human?”

“What?” His energy lashes. “Who told you that?”

“Nobody,” Cinderella says. What she can see of the magic through her barely open eyes is darker, responding to his emotions. Cinderella isn’t afraid even when it weighs on her lungs. She huffs a laugh. “I don’t think a tree could pick out dresses.”

Something odd happens then. Cinderella’s eyes are barely open like when first waking up. She can see the glimmer of magic through her eyelashes and the gentle light of the moon on the castle walls. Something seems to step out of the light like smoke solidifying. Her friend’s presence disappears all at once and, startled, Cinderella opens her eyes.

Not a boy, Cinderella’s first thought is.

The man standing in front of her belongs in the sun. She doesn’t know why she thinks that. His hair is as dark as the night sky above and his green eyes shine like stars. He’s beautifully structured, face drawn in broad lines and shoulders squared against her scrutiny. The coat he’s wearing is almost completely black. There are dark swirls of velvet across the lapels that look violet in the moonlight and his dress pants match.

Cinderella watches the way his hands twitch and then still. Rainbows of magic curl out from his back like wings and then fade into thin air as if they never were.

“I,” her friend says, “am not a tree.”

Cinderella surprises herself by laughing. There’s something so him in his first words to her. A little offended, a little embarrassed, a little too commanding. She smiles at her friend. “No, you are not.”

“You…aren’t mad?” Like she’s studying him, he studies her. His eyes flash from her expression to the easy way she’s holding her hands in her lap and he frowns. “Why?”

“Because we’re friends,” Cinderella says simply. She’s always known that they haven’t told each other everything. The important thing is that they know each other. “Friends learn new things about each other all the time.”

He stares at her. He is less easy to read than he was as a tree. There’s no warm energy dancing around her to interpret, no suspiciously timed breeze. He steps forward and then collapses onto the bench next to her like a puppet without strings. The line of his body against her arm is strikingly hot and he is very careful not to jostle her on the narrow bench. He throws a hand over his eyes. “You’re too kind.”

He says the word kind like a curse. Cinderella who is so tired of being kind, of being patient, likes the way he says it. She doesn’t like being accused of it.

“I am not,” she says tartly. It’s hard to look at him seated next to each other like this, but she does her best. She twists, her knees pressing against his, and sits at her full height so she can scowl directly into his face. “Take that back.”

Her friend peeks through his fingers. His lips twitch at the indignation on her face. “I didn’t say anything untrue.”

The almost-smile soothes the sting of her offense. Cinderella has to work hard to keep scowling. “Yes, you did. If I was kind I would be trying to pay you back for bringing me to the Capital and putting me up for a week and giving me a dress. But I’m not, see? I’m only taking.”

“That’s okay,” he says. He drops his hand and grins at her, leaning forward so that their noses are only inches apart. There’s a mean edge in the corners of his mouth that reminds her of winter. “So am I.”

A thrill runs down Cinderella’s spine. They’re so close and there’s a warm darkness in his words that flusters her. What does he mean? She’s the one wearing a dress she could only dream of in a place she couldn’t have dreamt. He hasn’t taken a thing from her, has he? Rather than ask, Cinderella nods firmly. “Good. Then it’s settled. We’re both taking and not paying the other back.”

“Good,” her friend echoes. He’s still close but he’s her friend again, that mysterious quality absent from his voice. He asks, “Have you been enjoying the ball?”

“Oh, yes,” Cinderella says. She’s relieved to be back on familiar ground. “Let me tell you everything.”

And she does. She tells him about Helga and how kind she was (“I’ll be sure to reward her efforts.”) and the coachman who told her the names of the nobles (“There’s no one better to ask for information.”). Her friend’s smile seems a little tight when she describes the dances and her partners (“I know of them. You enjoyed the dancing? That’s all that matters.”), but he also asks her about her favorite song to dance to and if she’s tried any of the food yet.

“I haven’t,” she says. She eyes him. They’ve been talking for half an hour and, as usual, he hasn’t said a word about himself. Usually she’d let that pass, but didn’t she want to change? Didn’t that voice inside of her tell her to ask? “You were in the ballroom if you saw my stepsisters. Did you try anything?”

“Not yet,” he says. He clears his throat and stands, offering her his hand. “Maybe we can try some champagne together?”

Somehow taking his offered hand is daunting. They’ve been sitting shoulder to shoulder, but that wasn’t a deliberate touch. She can still feel his warmth as she wrestles with her sudden embarrassment. Cinderella tries to keep her fingers from trembling when she takes his hand. “…yes.”

If he notices her hesitation, he doesn’t mention it. He gently helps her stand and then tucks her hand into the crook of his arm. “We can come back here later if you’d like.”

Cinderella looks over her shoulder as he leads her back inside. The oak in the middle of the flowers is beautiful and comforting. “I would like that. Later.”

“Later,” he says.

They walk down the deserted hall, side by side. Cinderella’s spent a lifetime keeping her footsteps light so as not to wake her stepfamily. She listens to the sound of his confident stride, ducking her head to hide her flush. His arm is strong under her fingers. Even through his jacket she can feel his warmth chase the chill away. She rubs her fingertips against the velvet details on the fabric. She struggles with herself. Ask. Don’t ask. Finally she says, “This is violet.”

His footsteps don’t falter and he doesn’t tense, but she can feel his aura flutter under her touch. “It is.”

“Violet is purple.”

“Is it?”

The ballroom is coming up. Cinderella stops before the light seeping through the entry falls on her. “Maybe you should go in first.”

He stops with her and catches her hand before she can let go of his arm. He doesn’t look at her, staring straight ahead. He swallows and asks lightly, “You don’t want champagne?”

“I do.” Cinderella can’t ask.

“Then we have to go in. That’s where the champagne is.”

“I know, but…” She can’t ask, but she can say, “Everyone will be looking for the Prince. He’s very late.”

Her friend’s jaw works and slowly, so slowly, his head turns to meet her gaze. “He has reason to be late,” he says. “He had to meet someone very important.”

The way he looks at her tells her who he thinks is important.

There’s that thrill again, like there are butterflies in her stomach. Cinderella fights against a smile and loses. “I’m very important?”

The tension leaks from his aura little by little. “You are.” His eyes search hers. “You aren’t mad again.”

He’s the Prince. Cinderella doesn’t think she’s really processing the information. All she can see is her friend frowning at her, perplexed. She wants to smooth the wrinkle from between his eyes, but refrains. She’s not sure if it’s because the gesture would be too intimate for her or if it’s because it’d be improper to touch the Prince like that.

Oh, she thinks faintly. He’s the Prince.

“I don’t think I am,” she says. She looks back to the door to the ballroom. The music sounds sweet again, complimented by the clinking of glasses and silvery laughter. “I just…they’ll be looking for you. I don’t want to…” She trails off, embarrassed, and looks at the ground.

He takes it the wrong way. His mood darkens his eyes from a summer green to the deepest parts of the forest. “You don’t want to be seen with me.”

“No!” Cinderella jerks, eyes flying up to his. Her desperation to correct him makes her honest. “No, but Stepmother is here and she’ll—well, if she sees you, she’ll see me and I know she’ll see you.”

His aura brightens so quickly that Cinderella has to blink against the flare of magic. The Prince beams down at her. “I can take care of that. I did promise you, didn’t I? Your stepfamily won’t recognize you.”

She resists his lead when he goes to enter the ballroom. “Yes, but I don’t see how! You’re the Prince! The Prince! They’ll announce you and everyone will turn and I’ll be right there—”

The Prince snaps his fingers. The warmth from the meadow descends on Cinderella all at once, rolling over her like the sun does when it rises above the horizon. The Prince grins, rainbows swimming in his eyes. “There. Now only I will recognize you.” He laughs. “Why I didn’t have Helga do that from the beginning…well. I know better now.”

Cinderella blinks magic out of her eyes. “You can do magic?”

“I’ve been talking to you through a tree for years,” the Prince says. He’s not laughing at her. He sounds affectionate. “I get by.” He gestures to the entryway. “Are you ready?”

Cinderella takes a tentative step forward. The warmth follows her. “Are you sure they won’t recognize me?”

“Positive.”

“Then…yes,” Cinderella says. This time when he gently nudges her, she follows. “Alright.”

The Prince takes her through the doorway to the ballroom. At first nobody notices. The room is as she left it, grand and arching and filled with color. Then the volume of the voices and music seems to lower.

“Presenting,” the Master of Ceremonies calls. He’s all the way across the room near where Cinderella first entered, but his eyes are on them. His voice booms across the dancefloor with such clarity it sounds as if he’s right next to them. “Presenting the Prince and the Baron’s Daughter!”

As one, every noble stops dancing, turns, and bows.

----

Thanks for reading! If you’d like to read the next part a week early, please consider supporting me on Patreon where I post all my short stories a week early as well as exclusives!

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#my writing #Cinderella fan fiction #cinderella retelling #my fairytales

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whatsmymeme · 11 months

Text

Last Minute Date

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Bradshaw!Reader

Request: Can you do an imagine where the reader is the little sister of Bradley and Bradley wants to go on a double date with her. Bradley set it up, but last minute, the guy dropped out and Bradley had the date already paid for and planned. His last choice? Jake Seresin. I LOVE YOU WRITING BYE

Warning(s): None

Authors Note: Thank you! I love you! You're so creative too. I love this prompt! I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1K

"UNO!"

Everyone burst out into loud groans of disappointment. This was the third round in a row that you were going to win. As you held your card up with a malicious smirk, your eyes met with your friend sitting right across from you. Jake Seresin. He narrowed his bold green eyes at you, a small smile gradually growing across his face.

When his turn came around, he put down a color card. "Green and Uno."

The next player put down a skip card, which meant it was your turn again. You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Everyone cheered as you leaned forward and picked up another card. The others took their turn and once it was on Jake again, he offered you a little wink.

"This one is for you [Y/N]," Jake teased, putting down his final green Uno card. Everyone started clapping. You couldn't help but smile at everyone's reaction. "You're welcome, sweetheart."

Everyone started saying good game to each other. In the midst of chatting with everyone, you were tapped on the shoulder by your older brother, Bradley. He asked if you could talk to him. You excused yourself and went into a separate room with him. Bradley closed the door and turned around to face you.

"So...You know how we were supposed to go on a double date tonight?" Bradley asked, slowly walking up to you. You raised an eyebrow. "Well, Charlotte can make it with me but...Damon just texted me and informed me that he won't be able to make it."

"What?!" You exclaimed. You shook your head, clearly upset. "I was really lookin' forward to going with Damon."

"The worst part is that I already have the movie tickets paid for and dinner paid for," Bradley claimed, running his hands through his silky brown hair. "Table for four and also the last four seats in the movie theater for that movie. It was an actual miracle I got those seats."

"Wow," You exhaled. "It seems that I need someone to go with me in about..."

"Five minutes."

"Five minutes?!" You gasped. "Who in the world-"

"Jake Seresin," Bradley interrupted, taking you by surprise. You cleared your throat and glared at him with the "Come again?" facial expression. "Look, hear me out, everyone here already has plans for the rest of the night. I'm pretty sure Jake doesn't. We're desperate. Please."

"You're desperate," You corrected, receiving an eye roll from Bradley. "I'm not goin' out with that brown-nosing, flirtatious little-"

"I'll tell Pete about what really happened at the party that one night," Bradley interjected, making you immediately reconsider. "You wouldn't want Pete to know that now would you?"

"It's always with the blackmail," You sighed. "Whatever. I'll go with Jake."

Bradley cheered and pulled you in to lay a big kiss on the top of your head. You grunted uncomfortably and pushed him off you, but that only won you a headlock from him. Growing up, you and Bradley got into more physical fights rather than verbal fights, but that's just how you two showed your love for each other.

It also helped you two bond and become stronger together.

»»-----　♡　-----««

"I heard the best friend dies at the end of this movie," Jake whispered. You inhaled deeply, trying not to lash out at him. "I'm just sayin' if the best friend dies...I called it."

Dinner was good. Well, the food was. You and Jake had completely different personalities and it was difficult to try to find common ground. It has been that way with him the entire time you've known him. It was hard, but you've dealt with worse people than him. Jake at least treats you kindly. Well, when he's in the mood to.

"The movie should start soon, so we should find out-"

You paused as you noticed a familiar face enter the movie theater. You audibly gasped and Jake snapped his head around to see who you were looking at. He just saw a man and a woman hand in hand with each other. You grumbled some unkind words as you shrunk down in your chair. Jake turned his attention back to you.

"What? Bitter about how you're not in a relationship?"

"Oh shut up," You groaned, throwing your hands over your face. You were on the edge of leaving. You dragged your hands down your face and glared coldly at Jake. "The man you just saw holding that woman's hand was the man who's supposed to be in your seat."

Jake noticed the hurt within your eyes, causing his heart to soften. "Oh, that troll was Damon? Sheesh. Ten bucks she rejects his kiss at the end of the night."

"Thanks Jake..." You softly spoke, lowering your eyes. "I just don't understand why he would say that he couldn't make it when clearly, he could have."

"His loss," Jake stated with a small shrug. "He doesn't have very good taste in women."

"What are you talking about? His date is gorgeous."

"She's not you [Y/N]," Jake declared, making your heart skip a beat. Was he being serious? "And you're beautiful inside and out."

You couldn't believe it. Jake not only complimented you, but he called you beautiful. You were a little confused, but you were secretly into it.

"Also, I was joking about the best friend dying thing earlier," Jake apologized. "I just wanted to see your reaction. I like teasing you."

"Yeah, I know you do," You chuckled. "But tonight, I'm going to allow it."

"Can I ask if you can allow one more thing?" Jake asked softly. "Would you allow me to kiss you at the end of the movie?"

You immediately felt your face increase in heat. Did Jake literally ask if he could kiss you? Your eyes caught Damon who was already making out with his date in his seat. You smirked and returned your attention to Jake.

"Why wait?"

Jake bit down on his lip, his beautiful green eyes fixated on your lips. You closed your eyes as you watched Jake lean in. The moment your lips collided, the lights turned all the way off and the movie started. You thought it was going to be a simple kiss, but Jake continued to kiss you, so you followed his lead.

In the end, you both smiled at each other. He wasn't that bad of a kisser.

»»-----　♡　-----««

Thanks for reading!

I do not own this GIF. Credit goes to the owner!

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#imagine #top gun #top gun maverick #top gun fanfiction #top gun imagine #fanfiction #top gun fandom #jake seresin #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x bradshaw!reader #glen powell

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breannasfluff · 7 months

Text

Gentle Nights

All the heroes suffered from nightmares. It was simply a product of the lives they’d lived; some pushed on journeys too young. Not that Time fell in that category. No, the group-designated old man, he long ago learned how to deal with nightmares on his own.

When he’s home on the ranch, Malon is there to soothe away his fears. Sometimes she’s still asleep when he wakes, gasping and counting down seconds as the moon falls. He’ll roll over and just watch her sleep; chest rising up and down under the blanket. She’s real and he’s not stuck in the past.

Night watch in the Chain means being on deck not just to watch for monsters, but to sooth anyone having a bad dream. Often it's Sky, starting up and reaching for Fi. He needs assurance on where he is and, sometimes, to talk out the dream. Prophetic dreams make him twitchy of any vision he remembers. These regular disturbances are part of what builds his reputation of always being sleepy.

Warriors prefers to be left alone or, if it’s bad, to be shaken awake. He’ll reach for the dagger under his pillow, but won’t lash out. The military drilled too much discipline for him not to check for friend or foe. Often, he’ll spend the rest of the watch awake with whoever is up, then go back to bed.

Twilight rarely shows signs of nightmares, but when he sleeps as Wolfie, he’ll whine and kick his paws. It’s not the kind of dream where he’s running—everyone in the chain has seen those and teased the rancher about them. No, these are truly pitiful whines of a hurt animal. Yet when Time nudges him verbally about them, Twilight just smiles and shakes his head.

Wild sleeps so lightly that he often wakes himself up. It means the chain rarely knows when he actually has a nightmare. Sometimes he’ll pad over to Wolfie if he’s around and curl up with the wolf. Once or twice, Time’s found him cuddled up with Hyrule; hands entwined.

Hyrule goes to Legend for comfort every time. He’s also liable to attack anyone who wakes him during a nightmare; too used to monsters attacking in his Hyrule. The vet, for his part, denies having nightmares but usually seeks out Hyrule or Wild. He also tosses and turns the most beside Sky. One of the few times he sleeps peacefully is when they are at his house, watched over by Ravio.

Four cries in his sleep every once and a while, but usually sleeps fine. He doesn’t seek out comfort from the others, seeming to prefer looking inward. Wind sleeps like a teenager—heavy, and preferably late. He’s also the least affected by nightmares.

They all have their roles to play—both with each other and with those on watch. Time adjusts his comfort to each individual depending on what they need. Not once, though, does he seek out comfort for his nightmares. They are his burden to bear.

Time is dreaming. He knows he’s dreaming because Majora is in his dining room while Malon makes tea. The monster nods at his wife when she puts the cup down, before snapping out a whip. It wraps around her arm and with a yank, she falls. Time reaches for the ocarina—why are his hands so small?

Majora is in his dining room. Malon puts a cup down and the monster nods, then snaps out a whip. Again and again, Time plays the ocarina. Over and over the scene plays out the same. What is he supposed to do? How can he save her? This is a dream…right? But what if it’s not? Can he afford to chance it?

“Old man,” Majora says, turning to look at him. “It’s just a dream.”

Is it? How does he know?

Majora throws out a hand, but this time it knocks the ocarina free of his grip. It spins as it sails, end over end, before shattering on the floor.

“Wake up!”

No, he needs to save Malon! Majora turns to his wife and he can’t—he can’t—

“Time.”

His eyes jerk open and he stares blindly into the night. He—he needs—

“Shh. It’s okay.” There’s a hand rubbing on his shoulder.

“Where…”

“You’re with the boys. We camped for the night. Wild made that extra spicy curry for dinner.”

Time nods and closes his eyes, taking a measured breath in a bid to slow his pounding heart. Then he opens his eyes and focuses on the boy kneeling next to him. Wind. “Are you on watch?”

“Yeah, but I’m done. Was about to wake Four.”

“Right. Thanks, sailor, I’m good.”

The flat look says he believes that as much as when Hyrule lies about stealing Wild’s honey candy. He still gets up and goes to shake Four awake. They share whispered words while Time settles back against his pillow. He doesn’t need to push this on the group. Normally he wakes and calms down on his own. Well, it’s just one nightmare. He’ll be more careful in the future.

Four yawns and makes his way out of camp to sit on watch. Wind messes with his blankets, but doesn’t lay down. He shuffles, glances and Time, and stares at his blanket.

Making up his mind, the sailor lugs his blanket over and drops it half on top of Time. “Hey!”

“Scoot over. It’s cold.”

It’s not, but he does so anyway. Wind squishes himself into the small space and pulls his blanket around him. He’s all knobby elbows and jabbing heels as he settles against Time.

“Goodnight.” It ends in a yawn and Wind burrows deeper into his covers.

Why is he here? Does he think Time needs help? He’s fine. He’s been through it all. Yet the soothing weight of the teen is comforting. He wraps an arm over Wind and his blanket to pull him closer.

The sailor, not yet asleep, rolls over and burrows into his chest. Time wraps his other arm around him and simply holds Wind. Here is someone he can protect and care for. Someone still young enough to enjoy the end of childhood.

It may not be Malon, but perhaps not every nightmare needs to be suffered alone.

#flufftober2023 #soothing touch #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu flufftober #breannasfluff #mywriting #lu time #lu wind #lu malon #lu sky #lu warriors #lu twilight #lu wild #lu hyrule #lu legend #lu four

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torukmaktoskxawng · 10 months

Text

tsamsiyu ta'em - strangers like me

Masterlist - part ten

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

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 6k+

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"For picking fights."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But, Father--"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Am I doing it wrong?"

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

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

"Group sleep is also customary in the Metkayina."

"What's a group sleep?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Was your father not like that?"

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"'Where we going?"

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

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

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

~~~~~~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Have you learned much since your arrival?"

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

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

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

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

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

Tonowari beams, "Growing fast. Halfway there."

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

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

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

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

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

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

Buy me ko-fi <3

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

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luxtout · 5 months

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Flames Unveiled (Chapter 10- Relief From Your Duties) Aegon II Targaryen X (Bastard Velaryon) Reader X Aemond Targaryen

Summary: After six years living away from Kings Landing, you and your family are summoned back, for reasons unknown. Your mother, Rhaenyra, has different plans for you. You swore to always protect your family, but at what cost?

Warning: References to / sexual content (18+), injuries, cursing, drinking, fights, angst, blood

Tagged: @faesspace @a-beaverhausen @heavenly1927

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

The feeling of your bed dipping pulled you from slumber. Blinking through the dim light cast by the candle and fireplace, you heard the drunken rustle of Aegon, struggling to untie his boots.

"Aegon?" You sat up, rubbing your eyes, trying to adjust to the dark. "Why are you here so late?"

It had been a month since the announcement of your betrothal to Aemond, and your relationship with your mother had soured. Despite your pleas for her to talk to the King, she remained silent. You grew furious, vowing not to speak to her again, though you knew it was an extreme step.

After Aegon left your chambers the night before, the Queen confronted him in his own rooms, lashing out and berating him. Yet, he returned to your chamber at night, seeking conversation, drink, or merely sharing an uncomfortable silence.

"Aegon?" You asked again, sensing his body flop onto the bed with a sigh. "Did you come from Flea Bottom?"

Aegon murmured softly, sitting up, attempting to pull back the covers and climb in. You shifted slightly, turning to face him. His disheveled appearance and scent suggested an evening far from the castle walls, yet his eyes remained shut. Unconsciously, his arms wrapped around your waist, drawing you nearer.

"You smell," you muttered as Aegon nestled his head in the crook of your neck. "You reek of wine and whores."

Aegon chuckled. "Ah, don't feel jealous. Who am I with now?"

Rolling your eyes, you replied, "Why are you here, exactly? Besides sullying my chambers."

Aegon lifted his head, resting it on his palm. "My mother."

"Your mother?" You echoed, mirroring his position, feeling his hand gently squeeze your hips. "What's she doing now?"

Most times Aegon sought you out, it was to escape his mother's wrath. You knew how harshly she treated him—her verbal assaults and physical blows were his reasons for seeking refuge with you.

"Same old, how I disgrace Helaena by visiting Flea Bottom, how I need to spend more time with the children... How it's inappropriate for me to be so close to you..." His eyes remained fixed on your lips.

"Hm, can't say I blame her. What would my betrothed say if he found you in my bed?" You both chuckled at the thought. Your fingers absently twirled a lock of Aegon's messy hair as you drifted in thought. "You should rest. Leave before the sun rises."

Aegon, his eyes already closed, hummed a soft goodnight before drifting off to sleep. You struggled to doze off, lying stiff as Aegon pulled you closer to his warm body, his snores echoing through your room. But the sound of the crackling fire eventually lulled you to sleep.

When you woke, the bed was empty and cold. His departure was always the hardest part. Rising, you stretched and slipped into a blush-colored gown, combing out your waves.

Your schedule was quite packed today: breakfast with the Queen at her request, followed by Helaena joining to assist with your needlepoint. Afterward, you planned to take in the air by the Blackwater or ride Lyrax, seeking solace in a quiet spot to read.

Sir Criston Cole stood outside the Queen's chamber, acknowledging your passing. These breakfasts often involved Alicent planning the wedding, which was set to occur in half a year.

"I was thinking, spotted orchid or gillyflower? What do you think?" Alicent paced the room, causing you to prick your finger with the needle.

"Oh, Y/N! Choose orchid, they would be so beautiful!" Helaena smiled, leaning forward to place her hand on yours.

You hummed softly, setting down your canvas and rubbing your aunt's hand. "Orchids would indeed be beautiful, but I've always been partial to roses."

Alicent's smile faltered momentarily before she dryly responded, "I'll see Highgarden has your roses then."

"White ones," you replied with equal dryness, returning to your needlepoint. Helaena tried to suppress a laugh, covering her mouth with her hand.

"Of course," Alicent said, smiling softly as she walked back to the window, resting her hand on her face, covering her chin and mouth. "Helaena, have you seen Aegon?"

Helaena shrugged, replying, "He doesn't sleep in my chambers."

Your cheeks flushed; he sleeps in mine.

"You'd think that as a man grown, he would stop avoiding his responsibilities..."

You stabbed the needle into the canvas again, tugging at the thread. Helaena didn't seem interested in her mother's words; she didn't care about Aegon's whereabouts or activities. You glanced at her canvas, displaying a beautiful butterfly, while yours was a poor attempt at a flower.

The door creaked open, causing all three of you to turn your heads. Aegon entered, appearing in better condition than when you last saw him. Freshly bathed, clad in all black with his silver chain draped across his chest.

"Mother. Helaena... Y/N." He strolled toward his mother's table, noticing her wine pitcher, and poured himself a glass.

"Where have you been?" Alicent stormed up to her eldest, seizing the glass and slamming it on the table, spilling the Arbor Gold. "I sent for you last night."

"I was busy!" Aegon retorted, moving over to the couch where you and Helaena were seated, plopping himself in the middle. "I came as soon as I could."

You thrust your needle back into the canvas, pricking your finger. You hissed in pain, prompting Aegon to glare for a moment, almost too long, before the Queen intervened.

"After all the whores and wine ran out, I suppose," she spat.

You rose to leave. "I believe I should take my leave—"

"No, stay. You're family, after all. Soon to be closer once you marry my awfully dreadful brother..." His words hung in the air. Helaena slammed down her canvas and rushed out of the room, but you remained seated, engulfed in the tension.

"You may take your leave, Y/N," Alicent demanded, her jaw tight as you hurried past her, casting a glance at Aegon before closing the door.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰∙∘

Your plans for reading were sadly disrupted when a member of the Kingsguard approached you, relaying that your grandsire wished to see you. Entering his dim chambers, you found your grandsire sitting upright in his bed, his head thrown back in agony, gritting his teeth as he demanded, "Who is it?"

"It is me, grandsire. You requested my presence," you said, swallowing the lump in your throat as you moved closer. You noticed the discoloration in his face, his lips stained red with blood, and his eyes rolling into his skull. "Are you alright? Should I fetch the Maester?"

"No, no... I am fine, nothing but a headache... Come closer, let me see you clearer." His outstretched hand reached for your face, slowly brushing against your soft cheek. "You resemble your mother so much."

"Thank you, grandsire..." The room descended into silence. Your gaze drifted to the tables adorned with sculptures of buildings and dragons. It pained you deeply to witness his suffering, barely recognizing your face despite seeing it so often.

"You must be wondering... why I asked you to visit me," the King strained to say, coughing violently, trying to shield his mouth as blood flew out. "I promise... it will only... only be a moment."

"Grandsire, I must-"

"No," he insisted, swallowing against the dryness in his throat. "Your mother was only fourteen when she served as my cupbearer. She attended many small council meetings, as a future ruler should. I wish... I wish for you to do the same."

A small smile graced your lips as you took your grandsire's hand, gently rubbing circles into it. "Of course. If you wish it, I will."

The King gasped, coughing again, bringing a cloth to his lips as he watched the white cotton turn red. "I must get the Maester."

"Y/N!" The King nearly yelled, causing you to halt in your steps. "You are a smart young woman, do not think otherwise... I will be fine; I just need to rest."

You gave him a sympathetic glance, "I will visit you in the morning." Your hands clutched at your skirts as you left the room.

Instead of heading to the Blackwater to read, you turned back toward your chambers. Your heels clicked as you walked down the corridor, exchanging nods with the maids and ladies-in-waiting.

As you neared your chamber doors, you noticed the door was slightly ajar. Once again, you were aggravated by the lack of respect. You opened the door and found your mother inside.

"Mother," you spoke dryly, closing the door behind you as she stood from the chair where she was seated.

"Y/N, I did not wish to intrude-"

"Yet you did," you interrupted, circling the table and standing upright. "Why are you here, anyway?"

Rhaenyra sighed. "I do not wish to fight or argue, but knowing you, that will be the outcome."

You didn't respond, merely turned away, unclasping your earrings and tossing them on the table. Your hand toyed with the necklace's ruby before releasing it and facing Rhaenyra again.

"Then what is it? Is it regarding my betrothal? Have you changed your mind yet? I would not believe so," you said, crossing your arms and glaring as Rhaenyra took a deep breath.

"I have not," Rhaenyra retorted. "It is in regards to home."

"Home?" Your head cocked in confusion.

Rhaenyra sighed, stepping closer, her hands reaching for yours. "We are going home, Y/N."

"What?" You swiftly withdrew your hands, running them through your hair. "What do you mean?"

Rhaenyra sighed, observing her daughter from a distance, seeing so much of herself in her that it sent a shiver down her spine. "We sailed here with the intent for you to join the court. Now, with your betrothal settled, there's nothing else to do but wait for the wedding."

The words gradually settled in your mind, and slowly, you brought your hands down, hugging your sides. "So, you are leaving? Not me?"

Rhaenyra rushed to your side, wrapping her arms around you as she whispered, "It will only be for a few moons. You can spend your days as you see fit, like a woman grown."

"Good. I will watch over Grandfather," you said quickly. "He wishes for me to attend the small council meetings."

You felt her laugh, kissing the top of your head before pulling away. "You will be fine, I believe that. Though, your brothers will miss you dearly."

"And I will miss them," you sighed, noticing how your mother held herself, her hand lingering longer on her stomach than usual. "Were you going to tell us?"

Rhaenyra's hand made small circles. "I wasn't sure, with everything... How did you know?"

"I have seen you with child many times... I just hope this time, it's a girl."

Rhaenyra's lips curled upward. "I would expect you to hope that. I will leave you; we depart within the week."

When the door clicked shut, you walked over to your book, flipping through the pages before slamming it shut. You knew deep down your mother wanted to leave King's Landing, but now she planned on leaving without you. Though, you had no right to feel upset, you should be overjoyed with staying in Kings Landing.

Walking to the desk on the far side of the room, you pulled open a drawer and found parchment and ink.

Cupbearer, Small Council, Spotted Orchid, White Roses, Mother, Dragonstone.

The words formed a short list detailing the day's events. Reflecting on the words, you slid the paper away and rested your hands on your head. Pushing away from the desk, you turned back to where your book lay, pouring yourself a glass of wine as you began to page through its passages.

You read and drank until the sun slowly set, the small print blurring as you realized how tipsy you were. The passageway door creaked open, but you had no fear of who it might be as you continued to flip to the next page.

"You started without me?" Aegon's voice came from behind you, leaning over and taking your glass, sipping quickly.

"I started a few hours ago. You came too late." You didn't lift your head from your book, nearly finished. Aegon hummed, pouring more wine into the glass before taking another gulp.

He moved around the room as you read, stumbling upon your parchment and reading it slowly. "Is this a list?"

You hummed, finally turning away from the book to Aegon. His cheek was purple, and his lips-stained red. You tried not to linger on his appearance for long, replying, "It is."

Aegon cocked his head, "Why are you drinking, if I am not the one initiating it, something must have happened."

You sighed, sinking back in your chair. "The King wants me in the small council meetings now that I'm the named heir after my mother. The Queen has already planned the wedding ceremony, though it's half a year away. She's detailed everything, down to the colors and the flowers for the Keep's decoration. And now, my mother and brothers are off to Dragonstone, leaving me here to wait for this damned wedding."

While you ranted and raved about your day, Aegon slowly walked over to you, kneeling at your feet, his hands slowly slipped underneath your skirts.

"Aegon... What in the seven hells are you doing?" You quivered as he looked up, his hands still slowly kneaded at your plush thighs.

"Some relief from your duties... When you stress, it tends to fuck with your mind in a way that will eat you up on the inside. Drinking is one step, your mind will fog for a time, but this will keep your mind on something else completely." Aegon seductively whispered, your skirts pooled above your knee, your legs twitched as he planted soft kisses on the skin.

"And what do you have in mind, uncle?" You bit back the lump in your throat as his breath hit your entrance, licking a stripe against your folds. You let out a stuttering gasp, clenching your legs, but Aegon fought to open them.

You felt him hum against you as he licked again, slowly, as if he knew he was torturing you. His tongue plunged into your entrance, swirling it around as his nose brushed against your bud. You tried to suppress your moans, tilting your head back as he sucked and licked your sensitive areas, your legs twitched with each touch. You wanted to push his head away, tell him to stop, but as he continued, your hand gripped at his scalp, tugging at his hair.

Slowly, Aegon pushed a finger in, pumping as he blew air at your bud, inserting another finger, licking at your juices as you squirmed in your seat. "Aegon, p-please..."

There was a tightening in your stomach as he curled his fingers, sucking on your bud and devouring your cunt, let out a gasp as you came, your legs shook as you panted slowly, but Aegon still remained under your skirts, lapping up your juices as he pulled his fingers from your core. He licked them one by one, slowly pushing himself away to see how pretty you looked panting for air.

His lips and chin were glistening, as he leaned in and kissed your lips. You could taste yourself on him, giving him more pleasure as you moaned into his mouth. Your stress was erased and replaced with lust; your eyes fluttered as you both separated.

"Did that work?" A hint of cockiness was laced in his words, "I am willing to try again."

With wobbly legs, you rose, causing Aegon to stagger up as well. You noticed a lump in his pants, tightening the area, Aegon took note of this and let out a breathy laugh. The air was thick and hot, your hands fumbled at his belt, Aegon assisted as fast as he could. Before he could drop his pants, a knock echoed through the room.

"Princess? Are you in there?" Mara's gentle voice barely made it through the wooden door.

You both quickly pulled away, scrambling around the room in a frenzy. You pressed your finger against your lips, gesturing toward the passageway door. Aegon nodded, moving toward the door but swiftly turned back, stealing a quick kiss before hurrying away and gently closing the door as Mara entered.

"Oh, Princess! I didn't realize you were here! Shall I draw you a bath?" Mara bustled in, setting down lotions and oils on the table.

You smoothed your dress, still feeling the lingering sensation of Aegon's lips. "Yes, please. That would be wonderful."

#aegon targaryen x reader #aegon ii targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #jacaerys velaryon #lucaerys velaryon #rhaenyra targaryen #alicent hightower #game of throne #daemon targaryen #aegon x you #helaena targaryen #aemond x you #enemies to lovers #house targaryen #house velaryon

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thelaughtercafe · 3 months

Text

Matters of the Heart

Tea Type: Milk Tea

Potential Triggers: Brief mentions of intentional verbal abuse, and a raised hand though no contact is made. A carriage accident takes place. Ciel is 21 at the start of this fic and ages as it continues!

Pairing: Ciel Phantomhive/F! Reader

Length: 1.1k+

Summary: This is an AU where the demon contract never happened, so Ciel simply grew up without his parents; cynical and detached from the world. He'd already chased Lizzie away long ago, and he intended to do the same to you. This was how it was meant to be. What he deserved.

His parents’ death had changed him. Everyone expected that, to some extent. But what they didn’t expect was the way Ciel grew cold and distant.

He shut down entirely; let no-one in. His engagement was called off with Lizzie after a few years of cruel words. He was always especially cruel to her.

She deserved someone better than a broken man such as him.

She was happily married now.

He had not attended, merely sending reassurance the Phantomhive name would continue their working relationship and support her and her family in whatever endeavors they needed.

What he didn’t expect to have to do…was be thrown into another engagement when he turned 21.

You were…different from Lizzie that way for sure. His cruelty didn’t make you burst into tears. Nor did you even flinch when he raised a hand to you. He never would’ve gone through with it, but most women fled with the fear of abuse.

You lived mirror existences as the date grew ever closer and one day when he was in a particularly sour mood…he snapped when you brought him tea.

“Why are you still here? Are you some kind of masochist, foolish girl!? I have done nothing but treat you badly and yet you refuse to leave and shower me in kindness I am not worthy of!”

Your smile dropped a moment and then it widened despite the sadness within it.

“…I stay for two reasons, Mr. Phantomhive. One, grief is a powerful emotion. One that can and will consume every part of your being like the vilest of diseases if you allow it to. You wish to never let anyone close. To never allow your heart to feel love again for fear of having that love turn to the agony of loss and grief. I am a patient woman. And I know this anger you show, this cruelty and bluster…is merely a facade. A mask you wear so you may feel safer with me at a distance. I have already been through my cycles of grief and decided I will allow my heart to love again, despite the pain that might ensue. But I can not make you do the same. You will come to your own conclusion when and if you are ready to.”

Ciel was…in shock. You’d never spoken this much, all but locking yourself away in the library and only offering him gentle kindnesses expected of a wife such as bringing him lunch when he forgot to eat and the like.

All he could say was.

“And the second?”

Your smile widened.

“Just as grief is powerful, so too is unflinching kindness and empathy.”

You turned on your heel and began to leave but paused at the door, voice lightly teasing.

“Thank you for the new shipment of books, Mr. Phantomhive.”

You slipped out to the sound of him shouting after you that it was only to keep you far away from him, but you knew if you looked back he’d be blushing.

He did not change all at once. Of course he didn’t. You did not expect him to.

There were still full days of silence. Full weeks even. There were days where he reminded you of a wounded animal, lashing out at every little thing in fear of how you may harm him.

But something quite miraculous happened when you had to meet with your parents, about 3 months after your explanation and a month before the wedding.

As you entered your parents’ estate, Ciel initiated physical contact, putting a hesitant barely-there arm around your waist. When he caught your shocked gaze and the blush on your cheeks he flushed himself and yet did not release you.

“…Don’t get any ideas women. It’s just to keep up appearances around my soon-to-be family-in-law. A mere formality.”

You beamed and quickly looked to the side to blink the burning in your eyes away.

He was healing, whether he realized it yet or not. Not only had he not cared for formality before.

That was also the first time he’d called your parents family.

The meeting went well, your mother gushing over how close you seemed to be and your father happy Ciel was well-versed in business and could keep up with him.

The drive home was not silent, but instead, Ciel led the conversation, talking about your parents and how ecstatic they were.

You were wed before he was fully finished healing but you weren’t worried. He had started and that was enough for you.

It happened rather suddenly. You’d both been out shopping, getting clothes and furniture and all sorts of things now that you would be moving in “so you couldn’t complain later”.

As you were crossing the street, a carriage came careening down it much too fast. Too fast for you to act.

Your husband did, pushing you out of the way with a cry of your name.

The ensuing crash was deafening but you cared not for anything save your husband, frantically kneeling over his body and sobbing as you heard people rushing to get medical attention and the police.

They showed up quickly once they heard the Phantomhive name. They tried to insist on you returning home to wait but you refused to be separated from your husband.

The ensuing days were…tough, to put it lightly. You cried enough tears to fill a lake at his bedside as you waited for him to wake. Your parents were out of the country on business so you were all alone.

The doctor had said he’d done all he could and it was up to Ciel if he lived or not.

You tightly held his hand and spoke to him.

“Please, don’t leave me. I know you must be ecstatic at the chance to see your parents again but I need you here Ciel. Please. We have such long lives ahead of us. I beg of you, don’t make a widow of me. I-I love you.”

You lowered your head to sob into the hands holding his and were startled at the feeling of someone rubbing your head before his familiar voice filled your ears.

“…You finally said it. You’ve been holding in your feelings all this time while I acted as the pinnacle of immaturity in a vain attempt to push you away.”

His blue eyes shone with remorse and genuine care.

“Will you forgive me, my love?”

You nodded breathlessly as you laughed and hugged him tightly.

He chuckled as you pulled away.

“I never want to lose anyone I care about again. And so I will fight to protect all that I do. I hope you will do the same for me.”

You laughed.

“Till death do us part, Ciel, I will ever remain at your side.”

He flushed and looked away with a huff, reaching out expectantly and smirking just slightly as you held his hand, though he pretended to be stoic as ever, clearing his throat.

“Yes, well, see to it you do.”

#black butler #black butler fic #black butler fanfiction #black butler fanfic #ciel phantomhive x reader #ciel phantomhive x you #ciel x reader #ciel x you #tlc: milk tea #tlc: fic

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antiwhores · 1 year

Text

Leaving - Bakugou x reader

———

Part 2

Bakugou lashes out at you and its your last straw. So you leave.

Heavy angst, no comfort cause we die like real niggas, domestic abuse (verbal/emotional), depression, fighting, disappointment,

Wrote this because I’m barely surviving rn 💀 i cannot relapse until Christmas and im fucking DYING !!! Anyway if yall want a part 2 lmk 😈

You’re depressed, so depressed that you can barely get out of bed to pee. Maybe you’re depressed because of the relationship, you cant tell. Maybe its the fact that you starve yourself every time he yells at you as a habit. Or maybe its the fact he doesn’t spend his days off with you anymore. He just goes out drinking with his friends or does whatever the fuck he does. Or maybe its the fact he doesn’t fucking care.

He only says mean things to you now.

“What the fuck? Why’re you so sad? You do nothing all day. You just sit in this house that I pay for. You’re not constantly almost dying, working hard.” He says this to you after he finds you crying in the guest room. You stay silent, its a battle that you dont have the energy to fight anymore.

The next day you go searching for a job. You confine in a friend and she gives you a job at her bookstore. She says that theres too locations you can work at. Apparently, she’ll be moving out of state to the next one soon and she invited you. She knew how horrible you felt. She was giving you an escape.

The next day you make dinner for Katsuki. You both sit down at the nearly abandoned dining table. It was refreshing for a few minutes, even though he didn’t involve himself in any of your conversation. You were just happy he wasn’t yelling at you.

You decide to drop the bomb after 5 minutes of eating. You could hardly contain your excitement when you asked him “Guess what?” He showed hardly any interest in you but some was better than none.

He looked up at you, signaling for you to speak. You beamed at him as you announced your new job. You immediately started to ramble about how cool it’ll be to get out and how excited you were.

You looked up at him and immediately stopped talking. He looked angry, his lip curled upwards and his brows furrowed.

You looked at him with confusion evident on your face. “What’s wrong?” You honestly didn’t expect this reaction. You were just stuck. Why was he angry when you’re finally doing something good?

“Do you think I’m just not capable of providing? I offer you money all the fucking time but you want a job? I give you enough and you dont use it unless its for food. What’s wrong with my money?”

His grip on the chopsticks folded them. You couldn’t even cry yet, you were just shocked. “I thought you’d like it? You always complain about me ‘freeloading’ off of you and how you pay all the bills. I could start paying too!”

You flinched as he slammed his fists against the table. “I don’t need your stupid fucking 9-5 money! Im the number 6 hero! You’re probably not even doing this for the rent. What do you want?”

No, no, no. This was not how this was supposed to go. He was supposed to be happy. And then you could be happy too. He would have asked you about your job and smiled and praised you. What is happening?

He jerked himself out of his seat and stomped over to you. You scooted yourself back away from him in the chair he grabbed it and held you still.

He pulled out his wallet and rummaged through it. “What? Do you want some of those stupid books? Some decorations for this house? A necklace?” You stared at him with wide eyes at he pulled out a wad of cash and shoved it into your chest.

“There, ya happy now? Still want that job?” He crossed his arms, waiting for you to respond.

He treated you as if you were a slut, a gold digger. You were with him before he was rich. How could he even think that? You were done.

You looked down at the floor as tears flooded your eyelids. “Do you think I’m only here for your money?” It was a question you knew you had to ask. You would be left curious and broken for the rest of your life if you didn’t know now.

“You know, I’m starting to think so.”

That was your last straw. You couldn’t do this anymore.

The giggles came out before the sobs. Tears streamed down your cheeks yet you still laughed. “The hell are you laughing for?!” Its like he was upset that you weren’t already screaming at him.

You looked up at him, meeting his eyes for the first time in what felt like years.

“Do you know how hard you are to love?”

He paused, opening and closing his mouth.

You slid off your ring and set it on the table. Then you gathered the money through blurry eyes. The sobs started to fill in when you shoved the money into his chest just as he had done to you. You watch his fall to the floor.

“I try and try my best. I get a job, I make you dinner, I give you everything I have.” You reach up to take off the necklace that had his initials carved into. “I defend you, I make enemies for you, I sacrificed friendships and family relationships just to please you. But its never enough.” You set the necklace down and go to the bracelet he gave you. “I never asked for any of this expensive shit. The only thing I asked for was your love.” You set the bracelet down with your resolve.

He’s staring at you now with a look of surprise. You meet his eyes again with a look he hasn’t seen directed at him ever. “I’m done, Bakugou. Im done.”

You dont even notice when you start to gather your charger and car keys. You dont hear anything he has to say. You don’t hear the pleas for you to just listen and calm down. You dont hear the insults he says when he calls you overdramatic. And you definitely don’t hear the apology, cause it never came.

You walked towards the door, “I’m gonna pick up the rest my stuff tomorrow.” He grabs your wrist just before you touch the doorknob. “Please y/n, just sit down for one fucking second. We can talk about this!” You yank yourself out of him hands, “Touch me again and I’ll scream.”

You knew he couldn’t afford anything else on his record, especially domestic abuse. He had to just watch as you walked away. And you fucking loved it.

#bakugou headcanons #bakugou x reader #mha x reader #bakugou angst #bakugou imagine #bakugou katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader

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sunrisemill · 2 months

Text

♡ The little things ♡ PT.2

Summary: Matt has always been pressured to live up to his father and everything that he expects him to be. Y/n has always been very quiet and has been pressured by her whole family to step out of her comfort zone and live her life free from her worries. What will happen when they unexpectedly run into each other at a random ice cream shop?

(Warnings: mentions of verbal abuse and slight physical abuse and self harm)

Pt.1

(Matt’s POV)

Tick. Tick. Tick.

The sound of the clock on the wall echoes throughout the classroom.

I try to focus on the test in front of me but I can't get her out of my mind. There's just something about her…

Something that makes me yearn to know more. But I blew my chances by lashing out at her. I sigh.

I look up at the clock for the twelfth time this hour, Silently cursing under my breath once I realise there are only five minutes till the bell rings, sending us all home.

I look back down at my test, I feel hopeless.

My eyes scan the questions but all I see is her soft hair flowing in the gentle wind.

I press my pencil against the paper but freeze.

The serene look she had on her face as we walked out of the ice cream shop.

The winter air made me want to run and seek comfort in the warm buildings surrounding us.

But the look on her face was different.

She seemed…Happy.

Happy to be in freezing weather. Happy to be shivering. I don't think I'll ever understand her. She's just a mystery to me.

An enigma.

~~~~

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

My father says. His voice is cold. Cold enough to send a shiver down my spine.

I bite my lip.

I look down at the table, praying for any form of escape from this. From him.

“I– I don't know.”

Even though I'm not watching him. I can tell his body tenses as he presses his palms against the dining table.

“Oh. You don't know, huh?”

He chuckles. I know that's not a good sign. I knew he was going to be furious when he found out I failed my test.

I squeeze my eyes shut as I scratch the back of my hand.

It's a habit I picked up when I was younger.

The pain from the scratches makes me forget about my father's condescending eyes staring down at me for a moment.

“You know, Matt.”

He spits my name out of his mouth like venom.

“Ever since I was your age. I had always dreamed of having a son.”

My eyebrows furrow with confusion. I finally found the courage to lift my head.

“What-”

“DONT Interrupt me.”

My head quickly snaps down to look at my lap. I drag my sharp nails harder against the scarred skin of my hand.

“I had always dreamed of having a son. So you can imagine how elated I was when your mother and I found out we were having you.”

I swallow as I feel a tingling sensation rise in my throat. Please. Not now.

“But as you grew up I started to notice things…”

I hear his slow footsteps thump around the table, coming towards me.

“The son that I wanted was someone I could have a simple conversation with. Like this one. And they wouldn't start crying like a fucking baby.”

Out of nowhere, he grabs my chin. Forcing me to look up into his cold dark eyes.

“But you couldn't do that for me, could you? I had to be left with a sissy for a son.”

His harsh words make my lip quiver. He watches over my saddened face with a look of disgust.

He lets go of my chin, Making the point to brush his hand off on his shirt.

“Get out of my site.”

I quickly scramble to get up from my seat and run to my room.

Choking back sobs as I do.

~~~~

I stare up at my ceiling.

Just listening.

Listening to the creaks in the floors.

The cars honking as they drive past.

Listening to the sound of gravel moving under the tyres.

Listening to the sound of my sniffles as my tears stream out of my eyes and into my ears.

I close my eyes as I feel my heart rising in my throat.

I try to look back at the good parts of my week. Hoping it could cure the sadness deep within me. I try to remember anything.

Just anything.

But all of my memories slip through the cracks of my fingers like water. All except one.

Her.

Why can't I stop thinking about her? I try to shake her out of my mind, but that only makes the thoughts worse.

Her... Her... Her...

I sigh. I slowly peel my eyes open.

I have to fix this problem.

——————

(a/n: Hey omg 😮‍💨 I’ve honestly never written something like this before so I would really appreciate some feedback if you have any 🙏 thank you so so so much for reading and don’t forget to keep yourself safe!!! I love you <33)

Tags: @guccifrog @junnniiieee07

#matt sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo angst #matthew bernard sturniolo #matthew sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #the sturniolo triplets #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo x reader #nicolas sturniolo

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arcielee · 1 year

Text

Wait So Long

Summary: You are trying to surprise your boyfriend and it does not work out like you had planned. Pairing: modern Aegon Targaryen x FemaleReader Word Count: 2279 Warnings: Implied sexy times, but this is purely fluff. Author’s Note: Here is another part of my series-that-isn’t-really-a-series. This is a collaboration piece I did with the darling, talented @f4ll-for-you ♥ Her work is amazing and I cannot thank her enough for her help with this piece! And a shoutout to my amazing beta reader @foxee-d-or. Taglist (my Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aspen-carter @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @randomdragonfires

“Yeah, I know, Cree, but I keep telling you and Jace that I fucking suck at this game,” you heard Aegon whine into his headset, animated with his hands and wielding the controller as an emphasis to his words. “And, yet, I still play with you all, only to be verbally abused by you cunts-” his eyes rolled over and he saw you.

One of the many things you cherished about your relationship with this man was his ability to read you like a book, to such a degree he seemed more aware of the emotion you were feeling before it registered with yourself. Aegon moved in a fluid motion, beginning with the words, “Hey, I’ve got to go right now,” before he tore off and abandoned both the headset and controller on the couch; he pushed from his seat and moved towards you, his brow furrowed with concern.

Then you felt it, the tears that spilled from the corners of your eyes and bunching your lashes together. You did not know when it started, perhaps the frustration that had been building since you first took on this contract role, something you have been adamant about six weeks prior.

In the beginning, you saw his hesitation, but you coaxed him into believing it was a good idea, and in theory it had been. You promised him this job would allow you to polish your portfolio and you promised to quit that customer service role you currently worked. You explained your excitement to finally do something with your damn degree and how you could use the extra money to upgrade your equipment.

“I can buy you new equipment, though,” he had argued and you vehemently refused, continuing on about your independence, how this was your career, your passion.

And he listened to your every word, watching you in a way that was so uniquely him and you loved him for it: the slight tilt of his head, how his lips pursed together when he was not quite yet convinced, how his lavender eyes moved back and forth with your presentation.

“Only four weeks?” was all he had asked when you were done. You swore yes.

Now you were on to your seventh week, dealing with a client who was unhappy with everything you presented, with their ceaseless revisions that kept prolonging the contract; yes, the pay was nice, but you were unsure if it was worth your sanity.

In truth, you did want to utilize your degree and this opportunity would allow you to be rid of the customer service role you had since uni, to finally transition to remote work life. You also had an ulterior motive: a gift for Aegon.

He had always spoiled you and you loved him for it, but you were also frustrated that any gift you managed seemed to pale in comparison. “Babe,” he laughed the one time you tried to bring it up to him, “I’m a fucking trust fund baby. Just allow me to pay it forward, since you have already done so much for me as it is!”

This only made you all the more determined to contribute, as meager as your income seemed prior to this contract, but Aegon never breathed a word of complaint, other than he hated you being away from the apartment you shared.

It was the selling point. “If I take this, I will quit that job,” your tone honeyed and your eyes doleful. “This way I can work at home and be with you.”

But also, you desperately wanted to buy him a dog.

The idea came from his friends, Jace and Cregan, when you had a moment alone to press them for an anniversary gift for Aegon. They hemmed over their words and finally Jace mentioned getting him a dog and Cregan nodded enthusiastically.

“He sends us clips all the time,” he continued. “Specifically a golden retriever.”

You squealed your excitement at the possibility to outshine your boyfriend gift wise. “This is perfect! There is no way he can top that!”

They had exchanged looks, but said nothing.

Fate presented itself with a text from Cregan, letting you know his half-sister’s dog was pregnant from a dog park mishap, which also happened to be the same dog that began Aegon’s fixation on them. You texted Sara immediately and she offered your pick of the litter, letting you know her dog was about five weeks along.

It felt like everything was falling into place: the contract job would finish a week after, you could take Aegon to choose his pup, then go to Cregan and Jace’s apartment to collect the pet paraphernalia you had been hoarding there.

There was a moment when Cregan stopped by to grab the royal purple collar and leash, that Aegon happened to return home sooner than you planned.

Your relationship had a rocky beginning, but through his rehabilitation came an unwavering trust between you both. You considered yourself lucky to have Aegon as your boyfriend in that regard; there was no hint of jealousy when he found Cregan at the apartment, but his confusion was apparent when he saw him holding the leash and collar.

“I was showing her the collar,” his friend stammered. “I bought it for this…girl I am dating-uh, fucking,” Cregan had a white knuckled grip and you watched Aegon for his response.

“Uh,” he narrowed his eyes on him for a moment. “That’s good for you?”

Cregan was quick to leave.

Sara let you know the puppies had been born but that was four weeks ago and you were three weeks extended into this contract with the most unpleasable, nit-picking cunt clients. You wanted it to end; you had already sneaked away to pay the pet deposit and all that was left was to bring Aegon to be surprised by the litter, but instead you received your umpteenth email of revisions needed and it would damn you to another week of this never ending misery.

At first, you felt confident when you accepted this contract; you always had a knack to gauge colors, pigmentation, and you were software savvy to pick up on whatever the client was using. The interview left you feeling like they would value your expertise, but instead the weeks whittled away at your self-confidence, having you second guess your every attempt to begin this damnable career.

You thought to quit it all and just accept being spoiled by Aegon.

“Hey, pretty,” you heard Aegon coo and it returned your attention to the kitchen. He was rounding the counter and moving towards your spot; you worked here because the lighting was what you wanted and you appreciated how it overlooked the living room, where the curtains were drawn and allowed whatever sunshine was available to pour in.

Aegon would crash onto the couch when he knew you were at the end of your workday and you liked looking up from your laptop screen, exchanging glances with him.

“What’s going on?”

His arm wrapped around your shoulder and you allowed your head to fall to his chest; silent sobs of your budding frustration wracked your body. You felt him tuck you under his chin, wrapping both arms around you, with the whisper of, “Come on, sweet girl, I know you need to cry, but remember to breathe…”

The tears eventually subsided and he pulled you from the counter, bringing you back to the couch. He pulled you into his lap and held onto you still, while he hummed one of the many songs he seemed to have on repeat in his mind; his singing, his musical talent was a newer habit he discovered during his rehabilitation and was something you adored, along with his sobriety.

When he finished his chorus, you pulled back from his chest and he reached to grab your chin, turning your head to meet with his eyes.

“Quit the fucking contract,” he repeated, time and time again. “I will pay you whatever they will pay you and you can stay right here in my lap, but, you know, without the tears. Perhaps lingerie instead? It would be purely professional, of course.”

Your laughter felt groggy from your tears and he moved his large, warm palm to wipe your face dry. “Aeg,” your voice cracked, but you could not help your smile. “I’m gross.”

“Yes, you are,” he agreed with a smirk, wiping his hand dry on his jeans and moving to your other cheek. “Quit these cunts, they do not deserve you.”

“But…” and you faltered for a moment, realizing it was best to come clean with your true intention with the job. “But I also wanted this because I have a surprise for you.”

He groaned, falling back into the couch and pulling you against his chest. “How many times must I tell you that I already have everything I want,” and he wrapped his arms tight around your waist, nuzzling into your neck. “Must you make me repeat the cliches? That your presence in my life is present enough? That you, pretty girl, are my gift?”

You giggled and squirmed from his hold, the stubble on his jawline tickling your neck. You pulled back to look into his beautiful eyes and his wide cheesy grin on display. “I know, but I wanted to something more, give you something you really want-”

“I am dead serious about my contract opening,” he dead-panned. “About the pay and the underwear.”

You looked at him, his smile so contagious, and leaned forward to capture his lips with your own. His fingers combed through your hair, holding the back of your head; his lips felt warm and soft against your own, his beard growth tickling still. You giggled and he moved to rub his face against your neck again, goosebumps rippling over you.

“But what about a puppy?”

He stopped his movement and pulled back to take you in. “That was the gift?” The excitement bubbled in his voice, his eyes bright as they looked over you. “You were really going to get me a puppy?”

You nodded, smiling from his reaction. “Sara’s dog had a litter and I already paid all the fees, I have been getting the supplies, then we would go and pick you out a new furry friend…”

His hands cupped your face and he pressed a kiss to your hairline, then tilted your head back to find your lips again; you melted against his chest. “This is why you have been working this shit job?” He pulled away, his tone accusing. “I have been absolutely heartsore watching you slave away for these ungrateful swines who cannot tell the difference between azure or cerulean-”

“...you couldn’t either when we first started dating,” you remind him with a grin.

He held up a finger. “True, but if I hired a brilliant graphic designer, I would listen to your expertise and learn.” You blush and he sighed, pulling you against his chest for another hug and it was your turn to sigh, loving how well you fit against him.

There was a moment of silence and he continued. “A dog is a big responsibility and I would need your help,” he leaned forward and pressed his lips against your neck. “I am also not a fan of the stress they have been causing you, your anxiety has been in overdrive since this contract keeps being extended…”

You sighed again and he shifted his legs, catching your chin to bring your eyes to meet with his own. “I know you want this for your career and I will support whatever you choose,” he began, his eyes wide and watchful, the hint of a smirk to his lips. “I feel I must repeat myself and let you know I will happily fund you to be my perfect girl.”

You cannot help but roll your eyes, but giggled knowing that he would actually pay you to be a homebody, if it meant he got to be around you all the time.

The evening was spent with your laptop off, your notifications muted, and cuddled up with Aegon while watching some TV show you had been binging together. There is comfort being curled up, a pleasant warmth shared that inevitably lulls Aegon to sleep and you listen to his soft snores.

You were careful to pull away, creeping towards your laptop and reading the emails missed; not one included a thank you for your effort shown thus far, or any indication that your supposed contract would be over any time soon. Rubbing your eyes as if it would wipe away your frustration, you decided you had enough, that there were other jobs, other opportunities, and you didn’t deserve to be treated like this.

After pressing send on your resignation email, you slammed your laptop shut and felt a mixture of relief and worry wash over you. The sound caused Aegon to stir, his sleepy eyes barely open. “Babe?” he sounded confused, almost delirious.

“After careful consideration I have decided to accept your offer,” you joked, doing your best to mark the worry that brimmed beneath.

Aegon smiles, your words registering and waking him up. “Wonderful,” he breathed, pulling you in and sprinkling kisses over your face. “We start tomorrow with picking up our puppy,” and he giggled in a way that made your heart swell in your chest. “Then, we have to pick out a uniform…”

You giggled and grinned with how he suggestively wiggled his eyebrows, feeling a sense of relief washing over you and letting you know that you made the right decision; you could trust that, together, you would figure it out.

Arcie’s Masterlist // modern Aegon Targaryen masterlist

#mordern au hotd #aegon targaryen #aegon ii fanfic #aegon ii fanfiction #aegon ii x you #aegon ii x reader #this is just fluff #modern aegon targaryen

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13as07 · 3 months

Text

Spitting Image #1

(Ino Yamanaka)

[Art work is not mine! Credit to creamway]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 4,211

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

None romantic one-shot; more friendly one-shot vibes; also sorry it’s not as Ino centered as I planned it to be

Child out of wedlock (how sinful; says the smut writer) (Yoshiki is the name I chose for said child)

Kouhai means underclassmen for those that don't know

Part Two?

———————————————————————

"Shit, shit, shit," I mumble under my breath, rushing through the front door of the Yamanaka flower shop. I'm ten minutes late for the third time this week, a promised blowup from Ino waiting for me at the counter.

"Where is that dumb kouhai at?" Ino's voice rings out over the sound of the bell on the front door.

"Right here! I'm here! I'm sorry!" I rush out, struggling to tie the strings of my apron. "I'm sorry I'm late again, Yamanaka-San!" I mutter, bowing my head down, eyes set on our shoes as I wait for my verbal lashing.

"Kouhai," Ino hisses out, tone cold and eyes hot as she glares down at me. "I pay you to work from eight-thirty to four, not eight-forty to four."

"I know, I'm sorry. It won't happen again."

"You said that yesterday, and the day before that. How is it any different this time?"

"I'm really sorry, Yamanaka-San," I repeat, my tone a whisper this time.

"I will deal with you later. Your lateness won't be the reason for my lateness," Ino mutters, walking away from me, taking her anger bubble with her.

I stay in my bow until I hear the bell ring again and the shop door slam closed. "Damn it," I mumble, rubbing my eyes as I stand up straight again.

"Why have you been late so much this week?" A voice calls out, startling me.

A yap slips from me because of the sound, making me jump back and spill over a tub of flowers. "You have to be kidding me," I whisper to myself, blinking the angry tears from my eyes as the sound of the bucket crashing to the ground rings in my ears.

"I asked you a question, it's impolite not to answer," The monotone voice calls again.

I shift toward the sound, Yamanaka-san's husband falling into my sight. He reminds me of a tuxedo cat; ghostly pale, always in black, and seemingly hating everyone that's not Ino or their son. "I am sorry Yamanaka-San. I didn't mean to ignore your question. What was it again?"

My boss's husband - my other boss, I suppose - tilts his head a bit as he looks at me, a micro-scrunch of his nose appearing too. "Why have you been late so much this week?" He repeats, making my cheeks warm up in embarrassment.

"Family issues," I mumble, dropping to the floor to pick up the flowers I tipped over.

"What might those issues be?" Sai asks, kneeling on the ground as well, helping me plop the flowers back into their bucket.

"I don't think it's appropriate for you to pry into my personal life, Yamanaka-San. I am sorry for being late, it won't happen again. Now, please leave me alone," I husk out, anger coating my words and my eyes again. I tug the bucket away from him, turning my full attention to the mess I've made.

"Have I upset you?"

"No. Just... go away Yamanaka-San," I grumble, rotating the bucket away from the water still covering the floor.

"As you wish, Kouhai," Sai responds, smiling softly at me before he follows his wife's previous path.

The anger of my morning continues to brew as I clean up the spilled water. It's been six months since I gave birth to my son, Yoshiki. It's been difficult trying to find balance in my life since having him. I love him more than anything in this world, but without a support system, it leaves me feeling like I'm drowning.

Between his needs, my needs, bills, daycare, and work I feel like any moment one of the plates I'm holding is going to fall and break. The plate being my job at the moment. I'm lucky to have three thousand yen left at the end of the month, courtesy of the outrageous daycare bills. I need to find a cheaper daycare or one that opens earlier so I can make it to work on time. I can't afford to lose my job.

How the hell am I going to get and maintain another job if Yoshiki isn't in daycare? How am I going to afford daycare if I don't have a job? How am I going to afford our bills? Our rent? Yoshiki's formula and diapers and the million other things he needs? Why couldn't I just get out of the house on time this morning? Or yesterday morning? Or the morning before that?

My stress tears mix with the flower water I'm cleaning off the floor, only upsetting my spiral thinking even more. Maybe I'll get lucky and Ino will only tear into me again when she gets back instead of firing me. I can't afford to lose this job.

————————————

My heart feels like it's pounding against my rib cage as I listen to the nursery worker on the other end of the phone. "I'm sorry ma'am but he has a fever. There's no way we can keep him at the nursery."

"I'll come get him soon but I can't just leave work. You guys can't keep him a couple more hours?" I ask, already knowing the answer.

I twirl the phone cord around my finger, heated tears threatening to spill again today as I listen to the nursery worker explain once again why they can't keep him. "I can give you an hour to pick him up, but that's all we can offer. We can't risk any of the other children getting sick. I'm really sorry, ma'am."

"Alright, okay. I'll be there soon. Thank you," I mutter into the phone, the angry tears spilling down my cheeks. I slam the phone down, picking it up to repeat the action a few times.

Why can't one thing go right? Why can't I catch one break? What am I going to do? I can't ask to leave early after being late most of the week. That'll definitely get me fired. Ino is going to tear into me if I ask to leave early, she's going to fire me. I can't afford to lose my job, but I can't leave my baby at the nursery. I can't leave Yoshiki feeling ill and yearning for me.

"Do you mind not breaking the phone?" Ino's voice rings out, filling my chest with dread.

"I'm sorry, Yamanaka-San," I mutter, softly setting the phone down before using my fingertips to brush the tears off my cheeks.

"It seems that you're saying that a lot today."

"I know," I murmur, turning toward her, eyes cast to the ground as I work myself up to ask my question. "Yamanaka-San?" She hums in acknowledgment, arms crossed and foot tapping the ground. "I'm really sorry but I have to leave early today."

"Oh? Oh ya? You show up late all week, yell at my husband, take a personal call at work, and then attempt to destroy the store phone, but you need to leave early today."

"I know, I'm sorry. I'm dealing with some things at home and I'm sorry it's melting into work but - "

"You want to leave early? Fine, leave early, but if you leave don't bother coming back. You're unreliable," Ino husks out, glare pointed my way.

"Yamanaka-San, please. I really need this job - "

"Not enough to work your full shift, apparently. I already told you, you're done, fired, unemployed. I can't have an employee that constantly shows up late and dares to ask to leave early."

I open my mouth to fight back but I have nothing to say. I get where Ino is coming from, after all, she's running a business and that can't happen with an unreliable employee, with me coming and going unpredictably.

I let out a defeated sigh, untying my apron and laying it on the counter before I walk out of the shop. The ringing of the bell dances around my brain, forcing fresh tears to brew. A million things, mostly bills and money issues, run through my head as I start my path toward Yoshiki's nursery.

I don't have time to worry about money or bills or a job. My baby is sick and needs me. Yoshiki needs to be my main focus right now. I can worry about finding a new job once my baby is at home and his fever is gone. My son needs to be okay and healthy before I have time to worry about anything else.

————————————

I let out a sigh as I watch my Kouhai walk out the door. Maybe I was a little harsh, we all have bad weeks, and I just made hers worse by firing her. But, on the other hand, I can't keep paying someone who can't keep their life together well enough to get to work on time.

The front door jingles again. I snap my mouth open, preparing to deny the Kouhai's pleas for her job back.

"Oh, hey Ino!" Kohan's - one of the members of the Konoha Barrier Team and a civilian of my clan - voice rings out, making my mouth snap closed. "Where's your Kouhai at?"

"Why do you care?" I snap out, glaring at him as the scent of infidelity waves my way, only solidifying my decision to fire her. I don't need drama filtering into my flower shop. "Don't you have a pregnant wife at home?"

Kohan chuckles at my questioning, only pissing me off more. "Yes, I do. Your Kouhai's son sat up by himself for the first time. She said she'd show me pictures next time I stopped in, so I was just curious if she was working today. I swear your cashier has the cutest kid in the world."

"What?" I ask, the word 'son' standing out in the explanation I just got.

"Your Kouhai has a cute kid?" Kohan repeats slower this time, his face scrunching up as he looks at me. "I think she said he's five months old, maybe six. She's got this picture of him in a duck onesie in her wallet, and it's the cutest thing in the world. She said the wife and I could have the outfit if we want since her son grew out of it already."

"My cashier doesn't have a kid," I say, a laugh following my words. What kind of sick joke does Kouhai and Kohan have going on? "She... she doesn't have a baby at home. I would have known that."

"I promise you she does. I don't know much about her home life aside from her son, but it sounds like the dad is MIA."

"What about her parents? Her mom is around to help with the baby right? Or her dad? A sibling or something?"

Kohan shakes his head no, sucking his cheek in to nibble on it for a second. "No, it's just the baby and her. She was raised by a single parent but from what I've picked up, they were one of the casualties of the war."

I let out another laugh, this one a panicked laugh. I just fired a young single mother for being late to a couple of shifts, and for needing to leave early without even asking why she needed to leave. I am a terrible person.

"Anyway, I'll stop in some other time. Let your Kouhai know I stopped by."

"Will do," I mumble, watching Kohan walk back out of the shop. Once the bell rings closed, I dash towards the phone, scrolling through the phone log. In big letters 'Konoha Nursery' is written on the call log. I fired a single mother because for some reason she had to pick her kid up early from daycare.

I. Am. A. Terrible. Person.

"Sai!" I yell, rushing around the store in search of my husband. "Sai, I'm going out, can you watch the store?! Oh, and please remember to pick Inojin from school!"

"Where are you going?" My husband asks, poking out from a random hidey-hole he's been in.

"I need to talk to Sakura about something."

"Oh, okay. I'll see you later, Dear."

————————————

It's been two days since I had to pull Yoshiki out of daycare early. His fever has gone down a bit, but he's still warmer than he should be. My sweet boy is curled up on my chest. He's in nothing but his diaper and I've decided to lay with him on my chest, nothing but my bra covering my torso. Hopes that skin-to-skin will help his fever race through my head as I cuddle with him.

If it doesn't I'm out of options. I'll have to take him to the hospital, not that I can afford it, but I don't know how else to help Yoshiki feel better. The only saving grace right now is that he fell asleep far enough up my chest that I can hear his breathing without having to press my ear to his chest. "I swear, God," I mutter, focusing on the ceiling. "If you take my baby, I'll never forgive you."

I know it's an overreaction, I know it's just a fever and will probably go down soon, but I can't help but worry that it might be more. Reading all those baby books during my pregnancy has left me with the fear that any and everything will kill my Yoshiki.

It took draining all my savings to finally convince myself to go back to work. It terrifies me to leave him with strangers for so long every day. What if something happens and I'm not there to protect him?

A knock at the door cuts off my spiral thoughts before they have a chance to start, both making me grateful and sorrowful. The sound wakes Yoshiki, sending him into a meltdown from his still-present fever and from being woken up.

I gently hush him, patting him back as I crawl out of my bed. "You're okay, love. I know, I know," I coo, softly rocking us back and forth as I weave my way through our destroyed apartment. I haven't had time to clean up so stuff has been thrown around on any surface available.

"You're okay, I promise. It's okay, Yoshiki," I continue to coddle, rocking us as I stop patting his back. My hand is gone from him long enough to open the door before it's back in place, softly rubbing his boiling skin. "Hello, how can I help you?" I ask, aiming my voice toward the open door without fully paying attention to who it is.

My focus is set on Yoshiki, trying to calm him as I start my mental checklist for the hospital. I've decided I'm going to take him once the telemarketer is dealt with.

"I thought Kohan was kidding," the person says, tugging my attention to them. Standing in the doorway is my old boss. Ino's mouth is hanging open a bit, her exposed eye wide and jumping between Yoshiki and me. "That is a baby. You have a baby. How do you have a baby?"

I blink at the lady in front of me, not a hundred percent sure what to think at the moment. "Ino, you have an eleven-year-old at home. I'm pretty confident you know how a baby is made."

"Yes, I know how a baby is made. I'm asking how you have a baby."

"Two hundred yen margaritas and a moody Sand Shinobi in the village on a business trip."

Yoshiki is the spitting image of his father. A fluff of deep red hair and his father's pale opal-colored eyes. I swear the only thing my son got from me was eyebrows and the shape of his nose.

A bundle of blue stripes covers a part of my son's forehead too, almost like stretch marks, another trait he got from his father. I've asked his doctors about it and they've told me not to worry, that it's just a mark of a jinchuriki parent, nothing different than the Hokage's and his kids' whisker marks.

That's another thing that has me stressing. What's a jinchuriki? How's it going to affect Yoshiki's life? It can't be that bad of a thing if our Hokage is one... right?

Ino busts out laughter, sending Yoshiki into another crying fit. "I'm sorry, it's really not funny," She says as I try to calm my son down again. "It's really... it’s not funny, just how you said it... it's not funny, I'm sorry," She says between bundles of giggles.

"It's kind of funny," I mumble, walking away from the door, leaving it open for Ino to decide what to do. I can hear her shuffle into my apartment, closing the door behind her as I pull an ice pack out of the freezer. "Is there a reason you're here?" I ask, trying to shuffle Yoshiki enough to wrap the ice pack in a cloth.

"I wanted to talk to you about... earlier this week," Ino mumbles, making her way through the maze of random toys and clothes covering the floor. "Here, let me hold him while you do that," She adds, reaching her arms out for my son.

I'm reluctant for a moment, hesitant to let anyone besides myself and Yoshiki's daycare nurse hold him. After a beat I give in, carefully shifting him into Ino's arms. I'll take him the moment I'm done wrapping his ice pack.

"Dear lord," She mumbles, nestling Yoshiki into her arms. He screams, reminding me his lungs are working. "Your baby is the spitting image of Gaara. How'd you manage to get that man in bed?"

"Gaara?" I ask, my hands stalling for a second.

"Gaara is the dad... right? I mean... your son looks exactly like him."

"I don't know the name of Yoshiki's dad," I whisper, finishing the task at hand before testing the pack against my skin. "Like I said, it was a one-night stand," I mutter, quickly taking my son back. I situate him back into place, holding him against my chest as I rest the wrapped ice pack on his back.

Ino stares at me, blinking a couple of times as she struggles with her words. "I would be able to recognize him, obviously," I mumble, shifting Yoshiki a bit. "After all, my son got all his traits from his father. I spent nine months making him and he has the audacity to look exactly like his father," I tease a bit, trying to lighten the mood.

She laughs again, a calmer giggle this time. "I feel that. I swear Inojin looks like his father more than he looks like me." I hum in agreement, constantly moving the pack across Yoshiki to hopefully help bring his temperature down. "Anyway, I'm pretty confident Gaara is the father of your kid. Even if he's not, your son has junchuriki marks, it wouldn't be that hard to find his dad."

"It wouldn't?" I mumble, focusing on switching Yoshiki around to cover his chest and stomach with the cooling device.

"No, there's only a handful of them. It's not a common thing."

"Great," I mutter, letting out a sigh as new worries filter through my head.

“It’s not… all bad,” Ino mumbles, glancing around the room before she settles on me again. “Gaara is… he’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s a great uncle to Shikadai. That and he has - ”

“There’s a big difference between being an uncle and being a dad.”

“Ya, I know,” she mumbles softly before she smiles at me. “For now let’s talk about you coming back to work and figuring out a way to make things easier for you. We can worry about the Gaara thing later.”

————————————

It’s been a couple of weeks since my conversation with Ino. I feel silly for not talking to her sooner. A new normal has settled over us, Yoshiki staying with me at the flower shop when the daycare is closed so I can work more hours, a later starting time so I don’t have to worry about being late, and the Yamanakas helping me with my son.

Ino watched him yesterday afternoon so I could go out for the first time in seven months. Do you know how nice that was? Getting some me time for the first time in half a year? I even get to sit down and eat now without having to worry about jumping up at Yoshiki’s every cry. Inojin is trying to talk me into letting him keep Yoshiki overnight one of these weeks. He’s grown attached to my little guy.

He also insists that my son ‘looks just like Uncle Gaara’ and that he ‘has the same eyes as Aunt Temari and Shikadai’. All this talk about the Gaara guy has my nerves a bit on edge. It scares me, thinking that someone so close yet so far away can demand to see my child, to have a say in my child’s life. I didn’t purposely leave my son’s father in the dark, I just figured I’d never find him again so why waste my time looking?

I will say, despite all the fear that comes with the possibilities of this Gaara person, Ino’s friend - Shika-something - Shikadai’s dad, had some tricks on getting Yoshiki’s fever down. He also said it’s normal for children of Sand Village descent to have fevers because of the usually hot temperatures in the Hidden Sand and their DNA morphing over time to counteract it. It is normal, it is just Yoshiki’s body adjusting, and soon enough he’ll be able to regulate his body temperature on his own.

Besides, there’s no guarantee that this Gaara guy is my baby’s father, and even if he is, who says he wants anything to do with us? That thought both feels good and hurts. I’ve done it all on my own, all nine months of the pregnancy, the childbirth, all seven months of Yoshiki’s life. If Gaara wants nothing to do with us, it won’t be that big of a deal. However, my son having his father while growing up is a nice thought to have too.

The bell at the front of the shop rings, a “Hello! Welcome in!” tugs from me as my eyes stay set on Inojin and Yoshiki.

“Hey, Ino,” a squeaky preteen voice calls out, instantly making Inojin chirp up.

“Sup, Shik,” he calls back, carefully standing up with Yoshiki in tow. The boys share some kind of new-gen handshake, my mind clicking the new boy into place as Shikadai. He’s the spitting image of his father too.

The two boys talk for a couple of minutes, Shikadai’s eyes constantly flipping between Yoshiki and me. Inojin was right, he does have the same eyes as my son. That doesn’t help my panicked thoughts. “What are you doing here anyway? You hate the flower shop,” Inojin asks, perking my interest a bit.

“My uncles are in town and Uncle Kuro already managed to piss off his wife, so he’s dragging Shinki and me along to help pick out flowers.”

“No shit? Shinki came this time too?”

“Inojin!” I snap out, giving him a warning glare. “No pouty mouth around Yoshiki.”

“Oh, right! My bad Kuohai!”

Shikadai’s eyes jump between my son and me again, a weird look on his face for a split second. “What’s with the baby?” He tries to whisper, eyes still running a mile a minute.

“Oh, Yoshiki? He’s the son of the girl that’s been working for my mom. He’s a chill dude, for being a baby and all. He looks a lot like your uncle.”

“Who looks a lot like me?” A deep voice calls out, overpowering the sound of the bell ringing. Standing in the door frame is a man with a black hood pulled over his head and dark purple markings across his face and neck. “Dear lord, who did Gaara knock up?” He asks, making panic spark in my chest.

“Okay, that’s enough Inojin,” I rush out, making quick steps around the counter and towards the group forming by the door. “I would like my baby back now,” I continue to panic, carefully swiping Yoshiki from Inojin’s arms.

“Hey! You said I could hang out with him during your shift!” Ino’s son complains, trying to swipe Yoshiki back from me.

“You can hang out with him later,” I mumble, slipping into the bathroom, quickly closing and locking the door behind me. So much for the new normal.

I sink to the tiled floor of the bathroom. Yoshiki is having the time of his life, smiling and babbling to himself as he looks up at me. “What are we going to do, Love?” I ask him, lifting him to press his tiny forehead against my own. “Why do you have to look so much like your daddy, huh? Do you think this Gaara guy is Dad? You think so?” I coo, pressing kisses to his cheeks, which only encourages his giggles.

A soft knock is pressed on the door, making Yoshiki smile even more. For whatever reason, his new interest is the sound of knocking. He seems to enjoy it quite a bit. “Hey, Kouhai?” Ino calls out, her voice followed by another knock. “We should probably talk.”

Probably.

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