#(i cannot even begin to express. how perfect it is.)

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

Books of 2024: THE ACTOR AND THE TARGET by Declan Donnellan.

Up next: I need to do a deeper dive on an actor character and what makes him tick for a revision project (as evidenced by the pen carnage in the background), so! I'll be reading this and making frantic notes about it. Shout-out to @starsandsteelandbrokenglass for the excellent rec--it really does look Exactly Perfect for what I need!

[problemcore]

hiiii halfway? thru the story. hard as hell to avoid spoilers online i need to stay away 😭 rant in tags, spoilers for 2.2 . i already reached 30 tags wow 💀

[moe-broey]

Boots :)

Another Started As A Test Subject and now they're literally the only thing I ever fucking wear. Idk how well it shows in the pics but they are badly cracked and have been worn into the ground but like. Shoe comfy :(

Also the wings are a new addition! The inner ones slap against each other. Doesn't really bother me personally though so I'm keeping them as is 😅 Oh, and the laces are paracord!

[malachitezmeyka]

I know it's useless to get mad at the dog, she's just a hyperactive little thing who doesn't know how to behave yet. She's left home alone for at least 6 hours every day and she's bored, I can't blame her for tearing apart her training pads or shitting all over the place. Even if I did, she must have done it hours ago, dogs don't get that actions that happened so long ago have consequences and all me yelling at her will result in is her being scared of me. I know all that, I do

So WHY am I still so angry at her?? Why does it feel satisfying to lash out and see her scurry away??? She doesn't deserve to be treated like that, she doesn't know any better. And I don't know how to teach her to know better, I don't have the patience for it. She deserves better than me

[ozzgin]

What if the Yandere school has some sort of event where they interact with students of the darling school and just like how our reader is a darling in the Yandere school they find a student of the darling school is a Yandere

You're an oblivious Darling going to Yandere School, and now you're paired up with...a Yandere hiding among Darlings. The absurdity goes on. Content: gender neutral reader, yandere horde, parody

[Yandere School] | [Yandere School 2] | [More Yandere]

He could immediately tell. You were a sheep among the wolves, and he was a wolf in sheep's clothing. He followed your movements with a predatory gaze, planning his approach.

He'd applied to Darling Academy out of sheer greed, hoping to find his soulmate. He searched, and stalked, and hounded, all in vain. Hell, he even had to repeat a year; it took him an ungodly amount of willpower to pass the damn kidnapping course.

"You're not surprised to discover your captor", the teacher had shouted, exasperated. "Unless you show me genuine shock, I cannot give you a passing grade"

"You can see her from a damn mile", he argued angrily, pointing at his darling classmate. She was supposed to simulate an attack, and he was to play the role of a clueless, helpless victim. Ridiculous.

Who would've thought his one and only was hiding in a Yandere School, of all places? So unforeseen, so unexpected, that he could not believe it to be anything but a fateful encounter. He glanced one final time at the enormous banner hanging against the school building:

"Annual Study Partnership Event: Yandere School x Darling Academy"

"You must be (Y/N). We've been paired together for the week. I'm in your care!", he beams cheerfully.

Despite his annoyance with Darling Academy, it proved to be somewhat useful in the end. Not only did it guide him to you, but it also polished his acting skills to near perfection. The teacher's office was guarded viciously given the previous attempts of the yandere students to cheat the system and have you on their team. Who would ever suspect a Darling? He simply waltzed in, scribbled his name on the event sheet, and left.

"I wouldn't be too excited", you confess, a little dejected. "I'm not...uh...the best yandere out there."

He pretends to sneeze, hiding the grin spreading across his face. Sweet, innocent thing that you are. Oh, don't worry your pretty head. He'll take care of everything.

The annual event consists of a week-long competition. A yandere student is paired with a darling counterpart, and the teams compete against each other for various activities. It's a learning experience for everyone involved, meant to hone the skills of a yandere and prepare the darlings for their future encounters.

First activity: tying up your darling.

Your eyes light up. For once, it's something you're good at. You hurry back to your partner, carrying the box filled with bondage rope, and nod towards the young man.

"Leave this to me", you state solemnly.

The timer starts, and you begin tying the knots. The yandere observes your process, completely infatuated. Your focused expression is downright adorable. Now, he could let you have your moment of victory. On the other hand...can he really waste this chance?

His fingers discreetly mess with some of the rope lying around. A little nudge here, another loop here. You're too absorbed in your work to notice anything.

You hear the bell and huff, exhausted. You wipe your forehead. This is it, the final touch. You hold onto the rope, and pull with all your strength. Suddenly you're dragged forward by an unseen force, and your face slams into your teammate's broad chest. You've tied the two of you together, somehow.

The other yanderes watch the display with a grimace.

(Y/N) is good with rope. This shouldn't have happened, they all think in unison. They glare at the darling pressed against you. Something isn't right. Is that man truly a darling? He feels more like a fellow rival.

"I'm so sorry", you sniff, humiliated.

He strokes your hair affectionately, reassuring you. It happens. The rope must've been faulty. You did your best.

He feels a cold shiver and tilts his head towards the bystanders, then smiles. It seems he isn't the only one who has fallen for you. Though he didn't expect it to be the whole school. Alas, what's life without a little competition?

"Come on, (Y/N). Let's get ready for the next part. I have a feeling we'll win this one", he says, winking at you playfully.

This must be the best week of his life.

[altruisticalastor]

↳˗ˏˋAlastor x Readerˊˎ˗ ↴

☒ Part One Part Two

☒ Summary: There was no time for doubt or guilt. It was now or never, and you had to play it smart if you wanted to be free, and you longed for that freedom more than anything.The thought of soon being in the comfort of Alastor’s arms, without any restrictions, kept you at bay. Within hours, you would be liberated.

☒ Warnings: fem!reader, she/her pronouns used, happy ending! silly lucifer, vox gets destroyed emotionally, lots of cursing and a light sugestive undertone, angsty and fluffy (a perfect combo) heavily yandere!vox coded, blushy alastor, husband alastor being the sweetest ever

☒ Word Count: 3,545

You awoke to an empty room after what transpired last night. Slowly, you rubbed the tiredness from your eyes. There was a note on your night table- you noticed it as you sat up. It was from Vox.

Sorry, I cannot be here when you wake, sweetheart. Val is being a pain in my ass. So, duty calls. I'll be up to check on you later. There's breakfast downstairs if you're hungry.  With love, Vox

The kinder he was to you, the more remorse you felt. 

Soon, all of this would be behind you, and that's what you had to remind yourself of. 

You took your time rolling out of bed this morning. You dreaded the day ahead of you. As you finished dressing yourself, you caught something in the corner of your eye. You spotted an envelope tucked under your closed window. The corners of the crimson letter lifted from the harsh breeze outside. You wasted no time snatching the tattered note, instantly recognizing the handwriting on the front.  

It was from Alastor.

My Dearest, Gather your prized possessions. I'll be here at midnight to bring you to your proper home- our home. Lucifer will nullify the contract you have with Vox moments after I retrieve you. So worry not, my dear. Within hours, you will be free.  Yours truly, Alastor P.S. Be sure to burn this after you've read it. 

You could hear your heartbeat as your hands shook, tossing the letter into your fireplace. The finish line was just out of reach. You could do this. You hastily began grabbing the belongings you've accumulated over the years, stuffing them into a bag Vox had gifted you for your birthday one year.

As you began gathering your things, the nostalgia kicked in. As did the guilt that sucker punched you right in the gut. 

Each item you stuffed into the tote brought back a pleasant memory. Your favorite tee that you wore to bed each night, for instance. 

You hadn't a clue how Vox even knew this piece of fabric was so meaningful to you. Nor how he obtained it to begin with. But, when Vox re-gifted it to you, you broke down. He seemed startled by your reaction, uttering apology after apology. Vox assumed his gesture did not go over well. But it was quite the contrary. This piece of home made you feel a little less alone in an unfamiliar place. You cried out a meek "Thank you." offering Vox a shaky smile as you wiped your tears away. 

You shoved all of those memories into the back of your mind. The same way you shoved your belongings into the tote. There was no time for doubt or guilt. It was now or never, and you had to play it smart if you wanted to be free— and you longed for that freedom more than anything.

The thought of soon being in the comfort of Alastor’s arms, without any restrictions, kept you at bay. You took a deep breath, slapping your cheeks a few times to snap yourself out of this stupor. Within hours, you would be free.

Vox had been so angry when Velvette called— disrupting his precious time watching you slumber. These moments were few and far between since you forbid him from installing cameras in your room. Vox grumbled to himself as he stood from the chair, ending the call with Velvette after receiving the news about "Needing to get the piss baby under control."

Slowly, he approached your sleeping frame, admiring you. The rise and fall of your chest. The pleasant expression decorating your beautiful features and the hardly noticeable tremble of your fingers at the hem of your favorite shirt.

It was a cute routine of yours. You tended to play with the stitching at the base of your sleep shirt before you nodded off each night. The sheets always slipped down your frame from how you tossed and turned, giving him a perfect view of your little habit.

Vox recorded this moment for his private use. He knew your self-soothing technique was the reason your shirt was so tattered. Vox put the pieces together ages ago. He never forgot the day he re-gifted you that flimsy old shirt.

When you started living here seven years ago, you arrived with nothing. Vox sensed your anxiety from your lack of familiarity. So he had a chauffeur take him to your and Alastor's newly desolate home. 

Vox rummaged through your personal belongings for a good while, to the lack of your knowledge. Inhaling your scent; which enshrouded your garments. One shirt, in particular, stood out to Vox. He noticed the wear and tear in the fabric, giving it so much character and conveying a story of its own. He assumed this tee was sentimental, so Vox took it. Hoping that a piece of home would put your mind at ease. He had also confiscated your perfume and other personal garments for himself. But you hardly needed to know that.

When Vox gave the shirt to you, your eyes filled with tears as you offered him a sweet little thank you. That stirred something deep within him. Something dark. Vox's obsession only doubled by the day after that, and for some reason, you were wholly oblivious.

Vox supposed that was the moment he knew his fixation with you was severe.

You took his kindness for weakness, Vox assumed. But little did you know, the love he had for you only made him all the more hostile. If he had you, Vox had no use for anything or anyone else. Plain and simple. You were all he desired— all he needed.

The memories you shared over the years replayed in Vox’s mind as he persisted in his daily tasks. He hoped you had read the note he left you by now, taking the liberty of treating yourself to some delicious breakfast. Vox had the personal chefs make your favorite this morning. He figured you needed a little pick me up after the harrowing night you endured.

His poor little sweetheart, maybe he should visit you earlier tonight. Any moment without you in it was far too long for Vox.

You paced around the ransacked room. The clock read a quarter to twelve. You were in the home stretch. Alastor would be here soon, as would Lucifer. Suddenly, a knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts. 

"Sweetheart, may I come in?" 

Oh no, this was not according to plan.

Normally, Vox finished his work around two in the morning. He would visit you a couple of minutes after he finished up. But why was he early tonight? Did he possibly catch on to your antics?

"Ah! N-No! Not yet- I am indecent!" You sputtered out. Fuck, this was bad. Really bad. Vox was quiet for a moment before his voice boomed once more. 

"You sound- off. I'm coming in." You hurriedly tucked your packed-up bag under your bed, throwing on your robe to hide the outfit you had on. You prepared to take your leave, so your usual sleep attire was nowhere to be seen.

Fuck, Fuck- Fuck! He wasn't this stupid. Vox was going to see right through your bullshit. The trashed room was a dead giveaway. 

Vox barreled through the door, making a beeline to where you stood. "V-Vox! Wait-" His slender fingers cupped your cheeks, a look of worry glitching onto his features. "Sweetheart, what's the matter?"

He was too focused on you to notice the state of your room. A shaky breath escaped you as you forced a smile, bringing your hands up to your chest. You waved them in front of yourself. In an attempt to show him everything was alright. Which- it wasn't. 

"Nothing- Really! I'm okay, just a bit sleepy. Can we talk more tomorrow?" You forced a yawn. Placing your hands on his chest, an attempt to soothe his worries. Vox gave you a pointed look as he let out a sigh. His hands that cupped your cheeks traveled a little lower. The gentle caress down your neck and collarbones sent a chill up your spine. "Of course we can. Here, let me tuck you in." 

Panic flooded your senses as he tugged at the tie of your robe. "I-I'm cold! So I figured I'd sleep with this on tonight!" Your hands were trembling as you stopped him from undoing the knot. Vox looked more concerned than ever from your skittish display. "Sweetheart, you're trembling! Come, let's get you under the covers." 

All you could do was nod in agreement as Vox's hand wrapped around the small of your back. He guided you to the bed, and that's when he noticed something was off. "Sweetheart... where's your favorite blanket, and why is it not on your bed?" His voice was even but a pitch lower. You froze in place, not daring to peer up at him. "I took it to get washed! It was looking a little bleak." Your voice was shaky as you lied through your teeth.

Vox's grip on your frame tightened as he slithered his arm down to grasp your hip. His hold on you was bruising as his other hand came to clutch the opposite side of your waist. He swiftly turned you to face him, dipping low to get in your field of view. "Why the fuck are you lying to me?" 

Oh fuck, this was the end for you.

His eyes were glowing bright and swirling with anger. A frown was prominent on his monitor. "I'm not! I swear- stop! Vox- you're h-hurting me!" His grip only became more brutal as his face pushed closer to yours. Vox invaded your senses. You felt claustrophobic- trapped. "Lies, lies, and more lies! Utter one more from those sweet lips of yours, and you'll be sorry."

Tears brimmed at your waterline, threatening to spill. Sure, Vox's grip was painful- but more than anything, you were petrified. 

"I believe you are holding something that belongs to me!"

The radio static filled the room, as did an air of malice. Vox snapped his head toward your window- met with the sight of his age-old rival, Alastor. "How the fuck did you get in here? I have security cameras lining the entire building! Inside and out!" Vox's grip around your hips loosened from the pure shock of what was unraveling before him. You took the opportunity to slither out of his grasp, frantically running over to your husband. 

"Ha! Your sense of security is flawed! You'll have to try harder than that to keep me away next time, old pal!" Alastor laughed bitterly as you cowered behind him. You seized his waist from behind tightly, hands still trembling. "Although, there won't be a next time! Oh heavens no! Not after the way you put your hands on my wife." The radio crackle was more prominent as your husband's shadow tendrils outstretched toward Vox. 

Alastor restrained the pitiful man before him. You peeked over your husband's frame. Getting a glimpse of his murderous expression. His eyes were in the shape of radio dials as crimson blood spilled past his grinning lips. "You fucker! You should have stayed away! Have you forgotten that I own your sweet little wife?"

"Uhh... not for much longer! Uh oh! It looks like someone is late to the party, am I right, Malastor? Aha!" You jumped from the boisterous voice filling the room. Your head whipped over to where Lucifer himself, now stood at your husband's other side. The King of Hell nudged your husband with his elbow, looking for approval from his witty remark. 

"Malastor-?" You sounded dumbfounded before your husband cleared his throat. "Yes, yes indeed! Now, get on with it, little Luci! Time is ticking!" Alastor spat through gritted teeth, shooting Lucifer a warning glare. The short blonde man scoffed, muttering under his breath about how "He was taller where it counted most!" Lucifer approached an annoyed Vox. He thrashed against his constraints but to no avail. 

"What the fuck are you of all demons doing here?" Vox spat, eyes swirling with murderous intent. He was beyond pissed, and it terrified you. Alastor could sense your anxiety and wrapped an arm around your waist. He pulled you snugly into his side, giving your hip a light squeeze. 

"Your old pal Malastor and I struck a deal! So no more wifey soul for you Mr. TV man!" Lucifer said in a sing-song voice. Without further ado; The King of Hell's horns poked past his golden hair. Wings fluttered out as a blue aura surrounded Vox. "No! You fucking can't- she's mine!" Vox shouted, tugging wickedly against his restraints. 

You watched in awe as the essence of your soul was extracted from Vox's chest. He let out a pained groan while Lucifer held out his palms, gently cradling your soul. A gasp was pulled from your lips as your collar and chain appeared around your neck. Lucifer turned toward you, offering you a wide grin as he approached. "Looks like ya dropped something!" The King of Hell joked, earning a warning glare from your husband as he brought your soul up to your chest. 

Gently, Lucifer overlapped his hands before pressing them into your diaphragm. You let out a breathless gasp as you felt your soul lodge itself into your chest. It felt foreign. You had been without it for ages now, so to be whole again was... liberating. With a snap of Lucifer's fingers, the azure collar around your neck fractured in half. It plunged to the floor along with the leash before it withered away.

The waterworks that threatened to spill past your lashline all this time finally slipped. Hot tears cascaded down your cheeks as you let out a small chuckle. "Thank you- both of you." You turned toward your husband. Alastor smiled brightly down at you as you brought your shaky hands up to wrap around his slender neck. You pulled his face low to meet yours halfway. Alastor took the hint, a small blush blanketing his cheeks as your lips meshed with his. 

The kiss was tender and loving. Alastor's large palms wasted no time cupping your face. He gently wiped your tears away with the pads of his thumbs. "I've dreamt of this moment countlessly over the years we spent apart, my dear," Alastor whispered against your lips, forehead flush to yours. Your heart pounded against your ribcage from his words. 

"Me too, Al. I can't believe this is happening right now." You giggled before Lucifer obnoxiously cleared his throat. Pulling you out of your sweet reunion with your husband. "This is lovely and all, but I upheld my side of the deal, Malastor! So you better do the same, or else I will fuck you!" Your mouth fell agape at the King of Hell's words. Alastor just tilted his head in confusion before you muttered, "Uh... I'm sure he meant to say fuck you up, my love."

"Yeah, that! Wait- what did I say?" You shook your head in disbelief as another laugh escaped you. Who would have thought the ruler of hell would be such a goofball? "Anyway, I'm gonna go! My job here is done!" With that, Lucifer took his leave out the window, humming a little tune to himself as his wings carried him through the night. 

Alastor clutched your hand, squeezing it firmly. "Come along, my dear! It's about time you returned to your rightful home!" You nodded in agreement, releasing his hand to retrieve the bag you stashed under your bed. Suddenly, Vox's hand slipped free from Alastor's shadow tendrils. He wrapped his slender fingers around your ankle, pulling a frightened yelp from you. "After everything I've done for you... this is how you repay me?"

Vox's voice was low, wavering slightly. You could feel his glare on you. But you didn't dare to look his way. "Let go of me! I don't owe you anything, and you no longer own me. So give it up." You spat. Alastor's tendril twisted around Vox's arm, yanking it away from your ankle. The pitiful man winced as you took this opportunity to grab your things and get the fuck out of this hell hole. 

"You'll come to regret this, sweetheart! You're mine, soul or no soul! And if I can't have you... no one can. Do you hear me?" Vox shouted at the top of his lungs as you took your husband's hand. Not daring to look back at the man you spent the last seven years chained to. "See, that's where you are wrong, chap! My darling wife was never yours to claim! Ha! How pathetic you are. Thank you for quite the pitful display!"

Alastor chuckled darkly as he took your bag for you, hoisting it over his shoulder. Without another word, Alastor's shadows surrounded you both. Taking you to a better place. The last you heard before you disappeared was Vox screaming your name along with the pitful cries of "I love you!" You felt a twinge of remorse for him, but it was fleeting.

The new scenery before you was bright and colorful. "Guys! They're back!" A cheery voice shouted. The Princess of Hell pulled you and your husband into a bear hug. "Oh, I just knew you could do it Alastor! I'm so happy that your wife is now a part of our found family!" You smiled at her words, glancing over to a rather stiff Alastor. You chuckled from his posture before another voice grabbed your attention. 

"You two definitely make a cute couple! Who knew Mister Fancy Talk Creepy Voice had game? Kudos, man!" The feminine spider demon approached you before one of his hands took yours. "The name's Angel Dust! A pleasure to properly meet ya toots!" He bounced your hand lazily before shooting you a playful wink. You returned the kind gesture, introducing yourself with a smile. 

"That's a pretty name. I'm Vaggie, and it's good to have you here." The petite woman gave you a small smile and a nod from where she now stood beside Charlie. You muttered a thank you before Alastor swept you up into his arms. You let out a small yelp as your arms instinctively wrapped around his shoulders. 

"Alright, the meet and greet is over! My dearest and I have some lost time to make up for!" Alastor's grin never faltered as he shuffled out of the foyer and up the steps. You heard a loud whistle coming from Angel and a shout of "Don't break the bed!" from Vaggie. Which caused embarrassment to course through your veins. 

You giggled as your husband ushered you into his bedroom. Kicking the door closed with his hoof before placing you down gently. You kept your arms secured around his shoulders as you buried your face into Alastor's chest. You breathed in his scent. Something so nostalgic yet ever-present. Alastor hummed your wedding song into your hair as his hands tapped along to the tune against your waist. "Let's dance, my darling!" 

Alastor lifted you slightly, allowing the balls of your feet to rest on the tops of his hooves. You giggled as he began taking broad steps, twirling you around the large room. "Do you remember our wedding, dearest? Our first dance was nearly ravaged by a drunken Mimzy! Ha!" You shook your head at the memory. Husk had cut her off for the night- and let's just say the rowdy woman didn't take that too well. "How could I forget! Husker's tail tripled in size- and Mimzy uttered curses I had never even heard before!" 

You both laughed at the memory as Alastor slowed his roll. Gazing down at you with unadulterated love swirling within his crimson eyes. His smile shrunk slightly as he brought a hand up to grasp your chin. "I truly apologize for disappearing all those years back without notice. It wasn't my decision, and if there's one thing I regret most in this world... It's making you feel like I willingly abandoned you." A frown decorated your husband's features. His eyebrows were knit in dismay.

You cooed at him, bringing your hands up to card through his two-toned locks. "It's behind us now, my love. Please, don't torture yourself anymore. I love you, and I couldn't be happier to be in your arms again!" Your gentle words tugged at his heartstrings. A small blush coated his cheeks as your fingernails grazed the base of his ears. "I love you more, my darling." The radio static in his voice was nowhere to be found. It was Alastor's true voice conveying his authentic feelings. 

You wasted no time pulling him down for a kiss, which he happily obliged to. Your lips molded perfectly against one another. You could hear your heartbeat as Alastor caressed your waist lovingly with one hand. His other hand remained at your chin, tilting your face slightly with his grip to deepen the kiss. For being a demon in hell, it sure felt like you were in heaven at this very moment. 

What was once lost was now found, and you couldn't be more thrilled to make up for lost time with your husband, Alastor.

tags; @danveration @celestial-vomit @jyoongim @stygianoir @polytheatrix @mmik3yy @littlebullofblythe @cxrsedwxrlds @lillithhearts @nogiggleonlybitter @minniemumbles @chewbrry @lbcreations-blog @nonetheartist @call-me-nyxx @zombiesnips-blog @stawberrypimpsimp @wonderlandangelsposts @villxinmiixx @persephoneblck @maxlynn17 @littledolly2345 @karolinda007-blog @falling-endlessly @greekyoghurtwithberries @bladeismine @aloraaaxcrystalzx @doctorswife221b @scaramoochiie @fairyv-ice @chirikoheina @veroneverleft @tired-of-life-86

[novaursa]

Broken by War (Continuation)

Requests are closed!

- Summary: Aemond kneels before your mother, for you.

- Paring: niece!reader/Aemond Targaryen

- Note: For more of my works, visit my blog. The main list is pinned to the top.

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: 1

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @alyssa-dayne

- A/N: Is this another unexpected post? Yes. Yes it is.

The sky outside rumbles as a dark shadow passes over Dragonstone. You watch from a window, heart heavy as Vhagar descends, wings outstretched like a stormcloud. The sea itself seems to bow beneath the ancient dragon's power, the waves thrashing against the rocks as if trying to claw their way to safety. But it isn’t the dragon that makes your chest tighten with unease—it’s him.

Aemond Targaryen, your uncle.

The heavy doors to the Great Hall are thrown open, and you see him dragged inside by two guards, his eye glaring defiantly despite the bruises on his face and the blood staining his tunic. His silver hair, once so perfect, is now disheveled, tangled with dirt and salt from the sea air. You can’t help but feel the pull in your chest, your worry for him rising above the rage boiling in the room.

Your mother, Rhaenyra, stands tall at the head of the hall, surrounded by your brothers. Her face is like stone, regal, unyielding, but you can see the storm brewing behind her eyes. Daemon lurks behind her, hand resting on the hilt of Dark Sister, ready to strike if she gives the word.

Aemond is thrown to his knees before her, and you step forward instinctively. Your gaze locks onto his, and for a brief moment, the tension of the room melts away. In his eye, you see something you had not expected—remorse, pleading, and something deeper, something that reaches back into your shared childhood. His lips part, and though his voice is raw, he speaks with conviction.

“Your Grace,” he begins, his voice thick with emotion as he keeps his head bowed, "I do not come to you as a prince of the greens, nor as the son of my mother... but as a man who has loved your daughter from the days we were children."

Rhaenyra's eyes narrow. “And yet you killed my son,” she hisses, venom lacing every word. Her hand clenches into a fist, her nails biting into her palm. The room tenses, the weight of Lucerys’ death still fresh in every heart.

You hold your breath. Your brothers shift uncomfortably, their rage palpable, but they do not move. Daemon’s grip on his sword tightens, his expression dark.

Aemond looks up, his face a mixture of desperation and grief. "I beg you to understand. What happened with Lucerys… it was not meant to be. It was an accident, Your Grace. A tragedy I cannot undo, no matter how deeply I wish I could. But I cannot kill her." His eye moves to you, and you feel the raw truth of his words pierce your heart. “I was ordered to, by my mother and grandsire. They sent me here to strike her down. But I cannot. I would rather die at your hands than harm her.”

Rhaenyra’s expression softens ever so slightly, but her voice remains firm. “You think your love for her erases the blood on your hands? You think I should spare you, after what you’ve done to my family?”

Aemond kneels lower, pressing his forehead to the cold stone floor. His voice shakes, but his determination does not waver. "I ask not for your forgiveness, Your Grace, for I do not deserve it. But I swear to you—on my honor, on my blood—I will serve her. I will protect her, with my life if need be. I cannot kill her because... she is my heart. She has always been.”

Your breath hitches, a warmth spreading through your chest. Memories flood back—of a time when you and Aemond were children, playing together in the Red Keep. His laughter, the softness in his violet eyes when he looked at you, even then. You had both been too young to understand what it meant, but now, here, the weight of it is undeniable.

Rhaenyra steps forward, her eyes flicking to you. “Is this what you want?” she asks, her tone cautious, but there’s a hint of something more—fear, perhaps, that you might choose the son of her enemy.

You swallow, your gaze never leaving Aemond. He looks up at you, his face filled with an unspoken plea, a fragile hope that maybe you might still see the boy you once knew. And you do. Despite everything, you see him. The man who loved you, the boy who never stopped.

“I...” You falter, the words caught in your throat. The air feels too thick, the weight of everyone's gaze too heavy. But when you finally speak, your voice is steady. “I cannot deny that I still care for him, mother.”

Rhaenyra’s lips press into a thin line, her eyes flashing with pain. She closes her eyes for a moment, as if weighing the burden of her next decision. When she opens them, her gaze is locked on Aemond.

“Do not think for a moment this means I trust you, Aemond,” she says coldly. “But for her sake, I will spare you.” She steps back, but her voice hardens once more. “If you betray her, if you harm her in any way, I will not hesitate to make sure your life ends in fire and blood.”

Aemond bows his head again, the weight of the moment clear in his trembling voice. "Thank you, Your Grace. I will not fail her."

As the tension in the room loosens slightly, you step forward, closer to Aemond. He rises slowly, and for a moment, it’s just the two of you. His hand reaches out, hesitating before lightly brushing your arm, his touch warm and familiar.

“I would have died before hurting you,” he whispers, his voice barely audible, but the sincerity in his words makes your heart flutter.

You don’t respond, not with words, but your eyes say enough. There's no simple forgiveness here, no erasing the past, but in this fragile moment, something rekindles. A silent understanding, a promise made long ago that somehow, against all odds, still endures.

And outside, as Vhagar rests near the cliffs, Vermithor watches from the heights of Dragonstone, the two ancient beasts as much a part of your fate as the blood that runs through your veins.

[dipperscavern]

Cregan's a thigh man an ass man a stomach mean-I just think a lady ain't allowed to be insecure around Cregan Stark in general, he has a sixth sense and can tell when his lady wife isn't happy with her body and he suddenly appears and is like "you're gorgeous don't even think that-"

this exactly sums up my thoughts about cregan in a nutshell. he’s not just utterly in love, he’s in love with every aspect of you. walk with me here

the sixth sense comment is so canon it almost hurts. you could just be having one of those days, not feeling confident in yourself or your body. you plan on just letting the feeling pass, but cregans so in tune with you, he can always immediately tell when somethings off.

he’s in tune with his men in the same regard. as a leader, you have to be. if you can’t recognize their strengths & weaknesses, or when they could be a liability, you can’t hope to rule. such is plain and simple.

and that only concerns his men. you’re his wife, his other half — whom he swore to & cloaked under his protection in front of the old gods. who would he know inside & out if not you?

he knows the bounce in your legs, and how it means you’re more unsettled than usual. he registers the longer, looser fitting gown you’ve chosen today. he can spot the minimal effort you exude to hide yourself from other people, feeling insecure about something only the gods would ever know. to cregan, you’ll always be perfect.

with this information, he makes it a point to express his love for you (not that you’ve ever lacked it with cregan). pulling you in for a kiss whenever you pass each other during the day, no matter how many times you’ve already met. his hand caressing your thigh under the table as you sup; one would think you did not notice, but the flush of your cheeks betray you. when you’ve retired to your shared chambers for the night, standing & taking off your jewelry, and cregan approaches you. allowing his hands to find purchase on your waist, pulling you to him. he sighs, before pressing a small kiss to your temple. you melt into him.

it’s not sexual, the way his hands caress the slope of your waist, and he drinks in every part of you as if it’s your wedding night once more. you burn under his touch, the intimacy of this moment not escaping you. you know your husband loves you, but still, you can’t help but wonder why he’s taken to you in such a way tonight. (he’s been taken with you in more ways than you can count since your betrothal. he reveals more parts of himself as the days pass)

“Cregan,” you begin. he hums, letting you know he’s listening. “Are you alright?”

“Aye. I cannot enjoy my wife, and the beauty the gods gift her with?”

you hum. “You jest, my love.”

“Am I regarded as a jesting man?”

some might think he took offense, but you can feel the hint of that smile of his as he presses a kiss to the top of your head. he relishes in the content smile he spots on your own lips.

[synqiri]

YOUR SHITTY TASTE IN MEN.

or, how he weasels you into admitting (and realising) your crush on him.

PAIRING: wanderer x gn!reader

WARNINGS: none.

WORDCOUNT: 1.1K || CONTENT: mild academic rivals, (one sided) enemies to lovers, he lowkey finds you amusing af

NOTES: ngl i picture yn here as an angry little cat

“professor, please. anyone but him.”

you’d do anything not to be paired with wanderer. especially not on a project that would affect your final grade. you’d be doomed with him for a partner, and that is what leads you to this situation — begging your professor to assign you to someone else.

she only sighs, sympathetic, yet unrelenting all the same. “[name], this is exactly why i paired the both of you together. you should learn to sort out your differences with him. besides, no one else would be able to keep up with either of you.”

gods, it is as flattering as it is unhelpful. you know that you are at the top in her class, rivalled by none other than him alone, but he might just hate you enough to fail the project out of sheer spite. maybe you’d throttle him to death before that happened.

“but —”

“my apologies, [name]. the decision is final.”

your expression sours further the moment you step out of the lecture theatre. why did he have to be the first thing you see, of all people?

“all that grovelling, just to get rid of me?” wanderer asks loftily, sauntering up to you. his eyes glitter, smug and amused and utterly infuriating. “and how did that work out for you?”

you roll your eyes. “she said i’m the only one who can stand you, so i’m afraid you’re saddled with me.”

turning on your heel before he can retort, you stride in the direction of the library. might as well get started on the assignment before he begins sending you to an early grave. though he keeps pace with you easily, and you can’t help but notice how he moves as if he is gliding on nothing but air. 

you bicker all the way there, only stopping as you set your things down at the desk you always use — at the far back of the library, a more secluded spot compared to the tables near the entrance. within minutes and a quick round around the place, you have a thick stack of books related to the topic of your project. 

wanderer is already seated, lounging on the cushioned seat lazily. he eyes the books, smirking. “to think you still can’t beat me, even after all that effort.”

will he ever shut up about that? 98% was hardly any different from 97% — and it wasn't as if he had a perfect score either.

“some of us have social lives to maintain — something you obviously don't.” you say this in a sing-song tone, deliberately taking the seat next to his. personal space be damned, you want a cushion seat too.

you take pride in the way he clicks his tongue and shuffles aside to make way. he scoffs. “what would somebody like you know about that? dinners and parties are hardly worth my time.”

you can't help but burst into laughter. his arrogance is stupidly ridiculous.

“just admit you have no friends.”

he sniffs imperiously, and for all the smartass comments he usually has, he doesn't deign to reply. cracking open the first book within reach, he begins to flip through its contents. you’re thankful that at least, he is taking the assignment seriously. 

you cannot deny that as irritating as he is, he is incredibly good looking. you watch the indigo of his hair as it falls in front of his eyes, the flutter in his lashes and the dainty bridge of his nose. his lips are parted slightly, his brows relaxed as he reads — and you find you cannot bring yourself to hate him, not in that very moment.

“are you done staring yet, or will i have to finish your work for you?”

scowling, you flick open a book of your own. now you remember why you hate his guts. “as if i even want you in my line of sight.”

“it’s amusing how much you despise me,” he says casually, flashing you a crooked smile. he chuckles, and gods, just the sound of it makes your blood boil. “of all i have done, i don’t recall ever doing anything to slight you.”

you stop short at that. why do you hate him? now that you were forced to really think about it — you have absolutely zero idea. but that couldn’t be right. how could you simply wake up one day and decide to hate someone?

well, whatever the case, you’re far too stubborn and you’re in way too deep to quit now.

“first of all, i hate your stupid smirk and the dumb drawl you talk with — do you even hear yourself? not to mention, the swagger in your walk and your smug gloating every single time you score better than i do. you walk like you’re floating. you sit in trees. you’re completely insufferable. just the mere thought of you makes me want to —”

hastily, you pull out your notebook and tear off a blank page. 

you crush it.

“this is your skull, by the way,” you say, a sickly sweet grin on your face. you chuck the paper ball into his lap. “is that explanation detailed enough or do you need more?”

and of everything that could’ve possibly happened, you’d never expect that he’d laugh. it’s sharp and disbelieving and he sounds as if he hasn’t laughed in years. he raises an eyebrow, smirking.

“how ridiculous. you claim to hate me so desperately and yet all i see is a fool with a childish crush.”

“have you gone senile? why would i —” you stare at him, flabbergasted. the notion of having a crush on someone like him is so utterly ridiculous you’re struck speechless. you can hear your heart pounding in your ears, and feel the twist of disgust in your gut.

a crush was something good. someone you couldn’t keep your eyes off, someone you couldn’t stop thinking about. a crush is someone who caused ‘butterflies’ in your stomach and a racing heart and he certainly did not. wanderer is simply someone so flamboyant and dramatic and attention-grabbing he made your blood boil, someone so infuriating just the thought of him during late night study sessions motivated you to do better and beat him, just to wipe the smirk off his face, someone —

all the fight you have goes out of you, as quickly as extinguishing a candle flame.

“oh.”

then, you blink rapidly, clearing away the fog of dizzying clarity that realisation had made. you cringe, bringing up a hand to your mouth. 

“oh gods,” you murmur. your entire body burns.

he scoffs, head cocked to the side, a self satisfied grin on his face. he knows. “what? don’t tell me you’ve got some other grand confession to make?”

well, you’ve definitely got one now. letting your hand fall back to your sides, you look him dead in the eye.

“i have a shitty taste in men.”

[natlovesls2]

Romeo and Juliet

Oscar Piastri x Fem!Reader

*ੈ✩‧₊˚warnings: no use of y/n, set some time in the 19th century, angsty fluff or fluffy angst?, shit post/ rushed, let me know if i missed anything, Part 1 of 2, not proofread

*ੈ✩‧₊˚word count: 1.2k

*ੈ✩‧₊˚summary: You and Oscar love each other despite not being allowed to even interact with one another. Or just a forbidden romance trope fanfic.

part two

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

You stood at the edge of the ballroom looking out at the dance pairs twirling around the dance floor, glancing down at your nearly empty dance card– your father's presence no doubt contributing to that lack of young men approaching you. 

“Would you happen to have any space left in your dance card? Perhaps you could pencil me in,” a voice said, from beside you, snapping you out of your entranced state. 

You couldn’t even begin to formulate a thought before your father intervened, “She cannot,” he replied for you, his voice full of contempt for the young man who stood in front of you. 

The young man frowned slightly, quickly regaining control over himself and smiling again, “What a shame,” he said, giving you and your father a curt nod before walking off. 

You turned to your father, your exasperation and frustration clearly present in your expression. How could he turn away such a fine-looking gentleman when you had only danced with two men? All he did was shake his head at you disapprovingly, turning to speak to your mother. You would find a way to dance with that gentleman one way or another. 

Your opportunity to slip away from your father's attentive, hawk-like supervision came when an old friend of his had him engaged in conversation. Your mother gave you a slight nod, signaling that it was the perfect opportunity to proceed with your plan— you did just that, wasting no time to escape your tyrant of a father. 

“You’re a bit of a rebel, aren’t you?” Said a slightly familiar voice as you scanned the ballroom for the gentleman who had asked you to dance, causing you to startle. 

“It’s you.”

“You were looking for me?” He asked slightly amused. 

“Yes, I wanted to dance— only if you would still like to,” you nervously stumbled over your words. 

“Of course, it would be an honor to dance with such a beautiful lady,” he extended his hand to you, taking your gloved hand in his own, leading you towards the dance floor. 

“What's your name?”

���Oscar, and what might your name be?” 

You danced for what seemed like an eternity, song after song after song. No doubt turning heads at such an inappropriate scene, though you couldn’t have cared less. 

“Will I see you again?” you asked as you finally parted ways. 

“If you will allow me the pleasure.” Of course, you would let him see you again, as many times as he wanted. You had, so many times, scoffed at the idea of love at first sight but you finally understood. It was as if the stars had aligned and brought Oscar to you. 

The content sigh you let was short-lived as your father approached you with a stern look. You couldn’t help the gasp you let out as he pulled away towards the exit of the ballroom, your mother trailing behind.

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

You continued to meet in secret, your lady's maid guarding your secret love with her life– it was nice knowing that at least someone was on your side. She often snuck in and out the letters you both wrote to each other. 

Your father clenched the letter he had intercepted, glaring at you, his anger rising as you reached out for the letter. 

“You cannot do this— tell him he can’t, mother… it’s unfair,” you desperately watched as he tore the letter into pieces.

“You do not tell me what I can and cannot do! I am your father, I know what is best for you!”

“Perhaps you’re overreacting, dear,” your mother attempted to calm your father. 

“She deserves better than him, better than a man of such… a dishonorable family” your father scolded both you and your mother, continuing to voice his disdain for Oscar and his family. 

“I deserve what I very damn please!” You say, challenging your fathers words, to his face, for the first time in your life. 

“Who do you think you’re speaking to with that tone, young lady? Mm? Have you lost your mind?” 

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

The cold night air bit at your skin as you stalked through the empty streets in search of your lover. 

“I knew you’d make it” he said as he saw your figure approach the alley in which he was hidden. 

“I almost didn’t. My father knows, he intercepted the latest letter you sent.”

“It was purposeful.”

“Purposeful?” you ask, brows furrowed in confusion, squinting your eyes at Oscar to catch a glimpse of him with the dim light of the moon. 

“I need him to know about us” he began to explain, his hands reaching out to grasp your own.

“Why?”

“I love you,” he began again, “You are the stars of my night sky. The center of my universe. My beginning and end. You are all that has been and will ever be. Without you… I cease to be, love. Don’t you get it?” 

“My father will never let us be,” you tried to reason, knowing it would be of no use. There was no changing his mind; he was set on loving you. 

“We could run away. Forget about your father– forget about who they want us to be. It could just be us. Just the two of us, happy and in love forever.”

“Oscar,” you futilely attempted to interrupt him.

"Can’t you see that I am a fool– blinded by the most dangerous weapon we as humans have ever created, love," he whispered into your hands, placing small kisses on them, “Please, tell me you love me. Tell me you feel the same as I do— that you feel that undeniable urge to destroy everything we’ve ever known to have the privilege of loving each other.”

“You cannot say such words, Oscar. You know the implication, it’s not as easy as we want to make it seem,” you whispered, attempting to pull your hands from his to no avail.

“I know, you’re right, but you have irrevocably marked my being with your presence– and I find that I cannot live without you. You have bewitched me: mind, body, and soul. You, my beloved, hold my heart in the palm of your hand. I feel as though I am suffocating without you. You are the very air that brings life to me," Oscar said, pulling you closer, searching your eyes for any sign that you loved him just as much as he loved you. 

“I– we… cannot be. You know this–”

“No, I will not take that as an answer,” his grip on your hands tightened, eyes blown out wide and wildly scanning over your face with a hint of betrayal. He was sure that you would immediately reciprocate his all-consuming love, but you had failed to confess as he had done, “I love you–”

“As do I,” you whispered, resting your forehead against his own. 

“Then let's go, tomorrow night.”

“Alright.”

⊹˚₊‧───────────‧₊˚⊹

“Can you believe it, Mary– He loves me and tomorrow night we shall finally be together,” You sighed longingly as you spoke to your lady's maid of your night with Oscar. 

“You’re so lucky to have each other” she helped you into your nightgown before slipping out of your room. 

She made her way towards your fathers study, knocking softly, waiting for permission to enter before slipping into the room. “Sir, I have some news that you might find interesting.”

•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*´¨`*•.¸¸.•*

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Note: I was going to write more but my classes have been kicking my ass. I'll probably make a second part. I just wanted to post something since I haven't posted in so long.

[eamour]

mental over physical.

in my post called "feeling over desire", i have already talked about the importance of fulfillment from within rather than without. i went as far to tell you that when you desire something, it can only ever be fulfilled in imagination and not in your physical reality. today, i'll tell you why exactly that’s the case with the explanation of "states".

key points

key points from former post

you are desiring to feel (inner self), not to actually have (outer self). therefore, you seek fulfillment from within.

by wanting things physically only and refusing to feel good about already having them in imagination, you are conditioning your desires.

what you can’t experience within, you can’t experience without. that way, you are making yourself reliant on outer change.

it’s impossible to give you something you desire internally, externally. it won’t and cannot satisfy you.

your aim isn’t the confirmation of the outer world. it’s the confirmation of imagination and experiencing your desire‘s existence there.

determination of the physical.

first of all, states are crucial. a state determines your thoughts — along with your behaviour, perception, experience and reactions to the physical world — as they come from your feeling aka the state that you are currently occupying. this is important for you to understand because depending on which state you are identifying with, you will reflect it into your material world. conversely, that means that you can never express a state you are not already embodying mentally.

an unfulfilling state.

now, if you aren’t already occupying the state or embodying the version of yourself who has your desire, receiving it in the physical world will not and cannot satisfy you. if you are in an oppositional state, yet manage to obtain results physically, it won't be able to fulfill you. you need to get into the state of your wish being fulfilled FIRST and experience it in imagination BEFORE you can get it in the 3D. that’s also the way you normally go about manifesting things.

experience of a state.

it’s because you aren’t experiencing the outer world, you are experiencing your state. you can only ever experience your state. the outer world is just a conformation of the state you currently happen to be in. although the 3D is a depiction of your imagination, your state or who you are in imagination still determines how your outer world is going to look like.

inner feeling of desire.

again, to desire means to occupy a state, a desired state. when you desire, it’s coming from within, not from without. only your inner self can desire. because after all, your desire is just a feeling — a feeling only your inner self can feel. your outer self, on the other hand, can only give you physical insight on your inner self. and inner feelings can only be fulfilled with feelings from within.

my example.

i remember i was in a relationship once which was very perfect to begin with. however, somehow, i would find myself in a state where i would feel unloved, as if i'm being lied to or just generally doubt my partner’s adoration and affection for me. the more i felt that way and the more i persisted in it, i managed to pull them away — even though everything was seemingly perfect on the outside, it didn’t really feel as perfect on the inside.

see, your physical manifestation can be as desirable as possible but if you happen to be in a contrary state, you won’t be able to keep the physical, nor be content with it.

with affection and adoration, ella.

[starleska]

The Nightmare Picnic - Wally Darling x Reader

You're a brand new resident in the wonderful Welcome Home Neighbourhood, and it's the perfect day for the picnic! But your dear friend Wally Darling doesn't seem to be enjoying the fun. What will happen when you decide to try and cheer him up?

content warnings for: eye imagery, scopophobia, hypnosis, impossible physics, Eldritch, and unreality. go in assuming that Wally is a weird little guy, and you’re both terrified of and kind of enjoy that fact! 😉 you can also find this fic on my AO3. i hope you enjoy!! 

The day you learn how to love Wally Darling begins like any other.

It is a balmy day, the air soft and thick and dizzy with butterflies. The sun shines with relentless cheer, and nary a cloud can be seen in the sky. Such a day in the Neighbourhood cannot be spent languishing inside, and all your new neighbours think the same way. So, which lovely activity did they decide upon? Why, a picnic on the grass, of course!

The organisation of the event is efficient and cheerful. In no time, the lush meadow surrounding the outskirts of the Neighbourhood is replete with cosy blankets to lie on, fun games to play, and a plethora of delicious foods contributed by each neighbour. Luckily, you’d baked a whole tray of cupcakes the previous day, with the intent of handing them out when bumping into your neighbours going about their daily business. The cupcakes were a huge success; even the ever-curmudgeonly Frank, who always has something to complain about, graces you with a begrudging, “It’s good, I suppose,” when you hand him a vanilla cupcake topped with a green-icing butterfly.

'I needed this,’ you think as you look around at your new friends. You’ve only been a resident of the Neighbourhood for a few months, but in that time you’ve grown so close to its colourful cast of neighbours as if you’d known each other your whole lives. Right now, they’re dotted across the meadow, smiling and laughing without a care in the world: Howdy’s busy putting together an impossibly long string of daisy chains; Eddie and Sally peer into an origami fortune-teller and giggle at the results; Frank leans over a bush, studying a caterpillar, and Julie and Poppy clap and cheer whilst Barnaby entertains them with a juggling act.

It’s a gorgeous scene. Today, your heart is warm.

A small flash of yellow catches your eye. Of course, it’s an incomplete picture. You take in Wally, who sits cross-legged under the shade of a verdant apple tree. He’s holding an apple between both hands and staring at it intently, as if willing the fruit to communicate with him. It’s an odd expression - you aren’t used to seeing Wally in a state of concentration.

“Hey, Wally!” you call.

Wally looks up at you and smiles. He beckons you over.

“Hello,” says Wally, in his simple way. “I’m happy to see you.”

Oh, what a beautiful voice. Every time you hear Wally speak, it’s like the gentle lapping of his syllables sweep away your worries in a single wave.

As you get closer to Wally, you notice a few strands of his deep blue hair turning flyaway and giving in to the heat, curling away from the otherwise-immaculate pompadour and escaping the death-grip of his hairspray. He’s a little dishevelled elsewhere, too; Wally’s neckerchief is coming loose, and though he’s long since abandoned his cardigan, a stray button on his shirt remains stubbornly popped. You find yourself grinning. Wally takes such pride in his appearance that you never get to see him a little less than perfect.

“Same to you!” you say. “Aren’t you hungry? All the food’s down with the others.”

That unusually pensive look on Wally’s face deepens. He turns his eyes back to his apple. “I can’t.”

“Why not?” You rummage in your backpack and pull out a chocolate bar. “You’ve got to eat, bud. You not feeling so good?”

Wally takes the treat from you and examines it for a moment, as if the bar is a scientific curiosity. “That’s very nice of you…but this doesn’t work for me. You should keep it.”

When Wally hands the bar back, your fingers touch for the briefest moment, and a shiver works its way up your spine.

You don’t know when this… thing you have for Wally Darling began. Despite the countless nights you’ve spent desperately trying to focus on something, anything else, your thoughts inevitably return to the little yellow puppet-man and his catlike smile. There’s a strange magnetism to Wally which befits his profession as a television host; everything from the delicate way he handles his paintbrush, to his ridiculous affinity for apples, leaves you with a little more fondness than before. Wally has so much affection stored in one small body, and when you first met, you wondered how any person could love so much all at once.

But now, when you look at Wally, you understand.

“If you’re sure.” You pop the bar back into your bag and sit on the ground in front of Wally, mirroring his cross-legged pose. “The offer’s still there.”

“It’s tempting,” says Wally, now turning his apple over and over in his hands. “I’d like to know what would happen, if I tried. But Barnaby told me it isn’t worth the risk. I trust him to know.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, but the look on Wally’s face is so uncharacteristically brooding that you don’t feel it’s polite to pry. Wally’s always been the drifting sort: those large, dewy eyes of his are perpetually lidded, and always seem to be gazing at something no one else can see. But Wally’s inattentiveness is usually matched with an infectious, excited kind of energy, bursting with nonsense and love.

Today, he almost looks sad. The idea makes you feel sick.

It occurs to you that this may be a personal issue, and Wally doesn’t know you well enough to discuss it. So you ask, “Do you want me to look away?”

Wally’s fingers still. To your surprise, the apple actually drops from his hands and rolls into the grass. You’ve never seen Wally mistreat an apple before - there must be something seriously wrong.

“Actually,” says Wally, now looking at you properly, “I’d like to try something.”

He gestures for you to shuffle closer. When you do, Wally reaches forward and takes hold of your forearms. You make a surprised noise, but Wally squeezes you, and fixes you with a smile full of reassurance and warmth. A rush of heat leaps into your cheeks, and you’re suddenly reminded of an interaction you had with another neighbour not too long ago.

It was only a week after you arrived in the Neighbourhood, and you were finally moving the last of your belongings into your home. All of your new neighbours had graciously donated their time to help you in some fashion, and you were overcome with gratitude. On that final day you were more than capable of doing the rest of the moving yourself, but your closest neighbour - the excitable Julie Joyful - volunteered to help with the last handful of delicate items. At first, you were unsure - Julie is a lovely girl and incredibly fun to be around, but so spirited that you feared for the safety of your items. But a good twenty minutes of allowing her to help with the least fragile of your boxes allayed all your fears: Julie moves with the grace of a ballerina, and the two of you soon had all your boxes stacked in your living room.

Burnt orange sunlight poured through the window, streaming soon-to-be-dusk and casting the wooden floorboards with a vibrant glow. You take a moment from the heavy lifting to look out the window. Across the lawn, you can make out a couple of your neighbours engaging in some game. Upon closer inspection, you realise it’s Wally and Barnaby, the former laughing and tossing a series of colourful balls for Barnaby to catch.

You watched as Wally swung his arm and threw a few of the balls a surprising distance, letting the large, spotted dog race off to retrieve them. Wally put his hands on his hips, as if exhausted by the exertion. He turned - and locked eyes with you. Wally’s face broke out into a huge grin, and he gave you a hearty wave. Feeling horribly embarrassed, you waved back, trying to ignore the painful squeezing of your heart. You’ve only known Wally a week, and yet you’re utterly charmed by everything he does.

A tug on your arm brought you back to the present: it’s Julie. She bats her long eyelashes at you, a knowing smile on her face.

“You like hiiiiim, ” she teased, her voice all sing-song.

“What?!”

You grabbed Julie by the shoulders and yanked her away from the window, as if Wally could somehow hear you both through sight. “No! I don’t know where you got an idea like that-”

“It’s okay, sweetie. You don’t need to pretend.”

Your face felt like it was on fire. You’d always been the careful type, ensuring your innermost thoughts and feelings stayed stuffed as far down as possible to keep you safe. But the Neighbourhood bred a kind of emotional honesty with which you were totally unfamiliar. Everyone is so exuberant, always wearing their hearts on their sleeves - some of them even literally, as plenty of your new neighbours wore outfits stitched with cute little hearts! Keeping a secret in the Neighbourhood felt wrong…even a secret crush on the silly little artist whose smile lit up your insides.

So, you give in. “How did you know?”

Julie giggles. She fishes in the pocket of her dress, and pulls out a daisy.

“I know a lot about flowers,” she explained, as she twirled the stem between her fingers. “What kinds grow in different meadows. How much sun and water and love they need to grow. They show it in their petals, and how they lean. People are a lot like that too.

“When you arrived, you looked…wilted. Like you’d been kept out of the sun for too long. I could see it, but didn’t want to ask why. I think everyone else could, too…and we all wanted to help a new friend who lost their colour.”

“You’ve all been so lovely to me,” you said, by way of thanks.

Julie nodded. “Sure we have! And it worked, for a little bit. But for a flower at the end of its days, even fresh soil, plenty of sun and lots of water can only do so much. Your petals seemed faded for good. And that’s okay. I just wanted you to be happy - whatever that looks like for you.”

You swallowed. “You see a lot, for a gardener.”

Julie smiled. “When you care for flowers, you learn to listen to their needs. Sometimes, you’ll have a flower who has everything in the world…but they’re still curling up, and shying away from the light.”

She pressed the daisy into your palm.

“Wally brings the colour back to your petals,” said Julie. “Do yourself a favour. Don’t hide from your sun.”

Another squeeze from Wally brings you out of your recollection. You suck in a deep breath, facing this new reality of Wally holding you, his fingers pleasantly warm and fuzzy.

“Close your eyes,” says Wally gently.

For anyone else, you would’ve paused - but for Wally, you comply immediately.

Slowly, you feel Wally’s hands slide down your arms to your hands. He threads his fingers through yours and holds them firm, so tight that you start to feel your blood thrumming from the pressure. Your hearing, sensitive now your sight is compromised, picks up the distant chatter of your neighbours, as well as the friendly sounds of nature at play. Your skin tingles, sweat-slicked from the heat and the nerves.

“I have a question,” says Wally, his voice wonderfully calm and soft.

“Yes?”

“Why do you eat?”

“Uh…” What kind of question was that? Wally is admittedly prone to posing questions that only a truly strange mind would think up, but this one is so baffling, you’re thrown entirely for a loop. “...So I don’t die, I guess?”

“Ha ha ha ha!” Wally’s unique, halting laugh almost startles you into opening your eyes. “You’re so funny. Okay. Do you know why I eat?”

This time, it takes you a little longer to answer. A simple enough question, surely with the exact same answer? But Wally’s voice has taken on a teasing, knowing edge - a sound you recognise from when he’s setting up a punchline. The question must be a trick. So you rack your brains, trying to think of all the times you’d seen Wally eat: where he was, what he was eating.

With your eyes still closed, you reach a strange realisation.

“I…I don’t think I’ve ever seen you eat.”

A soft chuckle from Wally. “That’s right. You haven’t.”

Wally’s grip on your hand tightens. Strangely, a weak, static noise buzzes to life, seemingly from inside your skull. You shift, trying to locate the source, but Wally holds you in place. As the noise grows, the sounds of your friends fizzle out and die. It’s as if you’ve been placed on an invisible train and are moving steadily down the track, away from all the familiar sounds of your Neighbourhood - but you can’t feel the rumbling of the track, or hear the whistle of the wind.

“But…maybe you should.”

With Wally’s words the temperature noticeably drops, and gooseflesh breaks out on your arms. You shudder, wanting to open your eyes but finding that you can’t: your eyelids feel impossibly heavy. You’re stuck in place, pinioned to the grass (which you can no longer feel) as that buzzing sound inches up by the decibel, a nasty, steady crawl which leaves your brain awash in a sea of noise.

“Open your eyes.”

You do so.

And you can’t make sense of what you see.

The sky is gone. The tree is gone. The meadow is gone. Every detail from the Neighbourhood’s comforting landscape has evaporated, leaving nothing behind but a grayscale emptiness which fuzzes in and out like television static. Even the awful buzzing sound abruptly falls away, leaving your ears with nothing but the distant sound of an unseen tide.

Wally still sits in front of you, his hands grasping yours, but it’s like he’s sitting on nothing at all: somehow supported by a cushion of emptiness. It’s like the texture of the world has fallen out of reality.

Seized by vertigo, you tighten your grip on Wally’s hands. “What’s happening?!”

“Don’t worry,” says Wally. “You’re safe.”

“There’s nothing here,” you whisper. “Where is everyone?”

“Back Home,” says Wally. “They can’t see us right now. They’re not ready.” His smile turns coy. “But I think you are. Watch this.”

Wally reaches over and rustles in your backpack. Your heart crawls into your mouth; although you can see Wally’s hands in front of you, you can somehow still feel his hands holding both of yours, keeping you locked in place. You try to look down and make sense of this impossibility, but your eyes are stuck, glued to Wally’s face. You can only watch, terrified, as he takes out your chocolate bar and locks in his gaze.

Without warning, Wally’s eyes flare open, heavy lids drawing back and revealing the full size of his large, black pupils. Wally’s stare travels steadily down the chocolate bar, a focused intensity searing from his eyes like a laser. Somehow as he stares, bite marks are chunked out of the chocolate, as if some great invisible person is taking enormous chomps out of both the bar and wrapper. In seconds, the chocolate is gone.

Panic grips your chest, and you start to hyperventilate. The world tilts, and you’re scared you might actually puke. Wally blinks, his eyelids half-blanketing those pupils once more, and he looks at you with concern. When his eyes connect, your chest convulses with panic: a type of terror you’ve never experienced before threatening to claw its way out of your body and devour you whole.

“What happened?!”

“Oh, don’t be scared,” says Wally, his voice floating and cloudlike. “This is just how I eat.”

“How - did you - do - that?” you gasp.

“I’m not sure. I’ve always eaten this way.” Wally inclines his head in sympathy. “I am sorry if I’ve made you afraid. I usually only eat when others are blinking. That way, I don’t interrupt them. I don’t want to be rude."

You suck in a huge gulp of breath. “Wally, this is…impossible,” you manage. “I want to leave - I want to go Home-”

“You can’t.”

Wally shakes his head mildly from side to side, but his eyes seem to stay still, locked into the centre of his face. No matter how much you strain to move, those incredible eyes remain right in front of you, always at the same distance, never looking away - and never blinking. In your peripheral vision, you see Wally’s hand reach up towards your face. He cups your cheek. The sensation of feeling three arms belonging to a two-armed person on your body sends a rush of nausea through your throat. Wally strokes your skin with his thumb.

“You understand me so well,” says Wally. “You see me, don’t you?”

“I don’t understand.” Another wave of dizziness rises up, pushing behind your eyeballs. The sensation is the same as the pressure of allergies arising on a high pollen day - yet you can no longer smell the flowers of the meadow. You try again in vain to rip your gaze away from Wally’s, but you can’t - and you’re finding it harder and harder to keep your eyes open.

Wally’s thumb stops, resting in the dip of your cheek. “I love my friends, but they only see one part of me. The part they want to see. But you…”

His thumb trails to the edge of your lip.

“...you see all of me.”

You’re split in two. Your brain, the logical part of your thinking, is screaming at you to do anything - to move, to scream, to run as fast as you can into the nightmare emptiness and beg for help. But the other part of you - your traitorous, emotional heart - douses the runaway fire of your fear with the intoxication of Wally’s touch. You find yourself leaning into his hand, savouring how perfectly his cheek cups your palm, and the slight fuzz of his thumb teasing your lip.

“I do,” you whisper. Suddenly, your body relaxes, and you slump forward. You feel very tired. The panic which gripped your body only moments ago is now quashed, flattened into a fine layer of dust by the weight of Wally’s impossibly black eyes. Now your nervous system is nothing but the aftermath: the feeling of fight-or-flight chemicals settling into your bloodstream, leaving you weak and sluggish.

Now, Wally’s eyes are not a source of terror. They’re a blanket you wish to curl up beneath, and never wake up.

“I think you’re special, you know,” says Wally. “The way I feel when I’m around you is…different, than with the others. You’re the absolute most.”

Wally’s words settle over your brain like a dream. You watch, your eyes heavy and drained, as Wally brings his hands up to his chest and forms the shape of his heart with his fingers. You’re no longer scared of the physical contradictions of Wally holding your hands whilst signing his affection. It seems in this reality, Wally can have as many hands as he wants.

This is why Wally’s next question confuses you so:

“Do you think if our friends saw me like this…they’d run away?”

Wally’s words are becoming harder to process. The world around him tunnels. Even though you’re sure that you’re fixed in place, sitting on some immovable, textureless cushion, Wally’s eyes grow larger, encroaching evermore on your limiting field of vision. The longer you look, the more of Wally’s scleras are swallowed by his expanding pupils. Those blown, void-black pools seem to come with their own gravity, and you’re slipping into their inconceivable pull, ready to be strewn and stretched and ripped apart by their physics.

“Oh, Wally,” you try to say, but your tongue slackens, and his name comes out as, ‘Waaalllllyyyy.’ “We love you so much. You can’t make us run away.”

Wally smiles, and you think it’s the saddest thing you’ve ever seen.

“How I wish that were true.”

Suddenly, Wally’s eyes shift just the slightest bit to the left. The effect is like unsealing a pressure chamber. For a moment you are released from his eyes, and your brain and body scramble as one, free-falling and bracing to break against the ground with a hypnic jerk. However, Wally realises his mistake and grabs you by the shoulder - another impossible arm - and forces you to look back into his eyes.

“Shh. Don’t strain yourself. The more you resist, the worse you’ll feel.”

You blink rapidly, trying to reorient yourself in space. Wally’s touch grounds you again, holding you steady in this non-existent space. You try to reply, but your mouth now hangs open, jaw useless. Saliva collects in a pool under your tongue, but Wally still keeps his thumb at the edge of your lip, now rubbing soothing circles against your flesh.

“We don’t have much time,” says Wally. “But…thank you for this. You can’t know how much I appreciate you.”

The warm flush of his approval works its way through your unresponsive body. Your muscles contract, dopamine and serotonin coating your insides and bringing your fingers - still interlocked with Wally’s - into a sudden contraction. You force your mouth into a speech-ready shape, fuelled by his words and his touch and the sheer paradox of his being, and you try so desperately to say, ‘Wally, I love you- ’

But then he looks away.

The spell is broken. Like flipping to another television channel, the world around you snaps back into place in one vivid bound. All the colour, sounds and scents of the Neighbourhood re-enter your senses in one huge burst, and the force of it almost knocks you over. Wally - who is still holding your hands, just like before - keeps you steady, crushing your hands together like he would rather die than let go.

“Hey, you two!”

Looking away from Wally feels like ripping off a plaster. Your eyes alight on Julie trotting up the meadow’s slight incline, clutching a hotdog in one hand and a cooler in the other.

“Eddie wanted me to tell you we’re packing up,” Julie chirps. “Looks like a thunderstorm is coming.” She looks down at your hands, still intertwined with Wally’s, and grins. “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just some good old-fashioned fun,” says Wally, his voice impassive and gentle.

The ability for words has deserted you. You stare back at Wally, searching desperately for something supernatural in the darks of his eyes. Wally looks normal - as normal as a small, yellow puppet can - and his eyes are back to their half-lidded, sleepy-looking state. It takes a couple of nudges with his foot for Wally to bring you back to earth.

Wally lets go of your hands, and you can feel the blood pumping in the spaces between your fingers. You try standing up, but your legs are weak and wobbly, as if you’d just run a marathon while sitting in one spot. They would’ve collapsed beneath you, but Wally catches you before you slip. He hauls you up and loops his arm around yours.

“Just hungry,” Wally says with a smile. “Let’s get you Home."

Julie leads the way down the small embankment, with Wally supporting your timid, uneasy steps. You soon reach your neighbours, now busying themselves in tidying up the remnants of your picnic. Upon seeing you, they all crowd around, asking if you’re okay. Barnaby remarks that you look terribly pale, and Sally offers to bring you a drink. However, Wally shoos them off, admonishing them in a familial sort of way. He reassures them that you’ve just had a small fainting spell, and need to get some rest.

Now free of the others, Julie, Wally and yourself make the way home - and you’re thankful it’s only a short distance. When you finally reach your porch you want to fall over onto the steps, but Wally keeps you held upright: a firm, reassuring presence at your side.

“You need to tell us if you get this again, okay?” says Julie, looking at you with worry in her eyes.

“Okay,” you say, giving a weak nod.

“Thank you. Feel better soon, okay?”

Julie gives you and Wally a final glance over. Having determined you’ll be more than fine in Wally’s care, she bids her goodbyes and skips off to help the rest of your neighbours.

“Ha ha ha,” laughs Wally. “Julie is a good friend. I’m lucky to have her in my life.”

You look sideways at Wally. He catches your eye, and dips his head in a nod. “I feel the same way about you,” he says.

The question is implied in his voice - a little waver at the edge of his words.

“Wally…I don’t really understand what happened today,” you say. “But…I know it doesn’t change how much I like you."

The beam that dawns on Wally’s face is so wide, it almost cracks in two. “Thank you,” he whispers.

You can’t help but return the grin. “Thank you for being vulnerable with me.”

Wally lets go of your arm, and turns to face you properly. He reaches up one hand, and then hesitates, his eyes flickering back and forth between yours as if pondering a question.

Finally, Wally leans in and gives you a small, gentle kiss on the cheek. You inhale sharply, your arms hanging limply by your side and your fingers curling into questioning shapes. His mouth is plush and downy, and the impression of his lips sends a toasty-sweet feeling rocketing through your body.

When Wally pulls back, his yellow skin is dusted pink about his cheeks.

“Always know,” he says softly, “that I love you very much.”

Then, he’s leaving. You watch in stunned silence as Wally’s back retreats into the distance, making his way to join the throng of your neighbours. A slight rumble in the distance makes you look up: a cluster of thunderclouds gather at the edge of the Neighbourhood, fat with the promise of rain.

You touch your lips gently, and smile. Then, you retreat inside the safety of your home…with the warm memory of Wally’s kiss playing in your mind, and static still buzzing in your fingers.

[beensbaee]

𝒏𝒆𝒕𝒆𝒚𝒂𝒎 𝒔𝒖𝒍𝒍𝒚 𝒊𝒎𝒂𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒆 ˚ ༘♡ ·˚ ₊˚ˑ༄ؘ

summary; neteyam has the girl of his dreams right in front of him - but he cannot have her because she belongs to someone else. (does that stop him though? NOPE!)

word count; 4.2k

HIS SACRED SUN

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Neteyam Sully thought he was able to do anything he set his mind to.

As the oldest son of Toruk Makto, he strived to live up to his fathers image. His parents never failed to tell him of his importance, helping him understand exactly who he was and giving him the confidence to overcome anything.

Until her.

She stuck out like no other na'vi he'd ever meet. Her face something captivating and so charming - yet dangerous. Lethal.

She was the girl that had him turning around for a second glance. The girl that had his heart beating like a crazed drum. The girl he'd kill for.

In his eyes, she was perfect. Perfect in every way. Perfect for him.

Except for the distinctive fact that made her so untouchable.

She belonged to someone else.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Y/n sat with a group of teenage na'vi, all whom were giving their absolute attention to her as she stood tall, arms outstretched as she told them of her recent hunt. Her eyes gleamed with pride as she explained in detail exactly how she managed to escape the animals surprise attack

Neteyam sat towards the back of the group, where he was almost out of her view. He closed his eyes as he took in the sound of her voice

Smooth - so smooth. Like liquid. She spoke confidently. Expressively with the same radiant smile he was so infatuated with

When she finished, she sat back down as the next story teller went up. The girls around her swarmed her figure - raving on how brave she was during her hunt - or how they liked the gems that hung low on her neck

He loved how politely she'd respond to the compliments. Even blushing at some, unable to hide the flush on her cheeks.

As the teens quieted down for the next speaker, he watched Y/n comfortably stretch her legs out in front of her. The beads in her hair clinking together quietly as she moved. Her arms were behind her as she tipped her head up towards the boy who was talking to the rest of the group. He was beginning to tell his own tale

Any word the boy said went right through one ear and out the other, and he could feel his mind slipping and unable to even take in his surroundings as she became the only thing he could focus on

She could sense his gaze. He knew this because her eyes moved directly to him. She held eye contact for a beat. Two beats. Before turning away with a smile.

She didn't look at him again for the rest of the time the teens spent sharing stories. As the last volunteer to share theirs ended with a round of applause, the teens slowly began dispersing into smaller groups and began talking amongst themselves

He looked for Y/n, and after seeing her standing with a group of girls and nodding her head along to whatever they were saying - he seized the opportunity to speak with her.

He was by her side in less than a minute, and her friends gave her a surprised glance as she turned to Neteyam. They respectfully moved so Neteyam could speak with her, giving him room to talk to her privately.

"Neteyam Sully. Oel ngati kameie." She said sweetly, giving him a smile that had his tail flicking behind him lively

"Y/n. Oel ngati kameie. I had to come and say, your encounter with the Slinth was something only someone like you could fight." He said, his words holding true respect as her lips tipped upwards into a familiar grin

"Thank you, truly. But I must say, there is no one else like me." She said, a playful glint in her eyes, and Neteyam was sure his eyes could have been mistaken for hearts with the way he looked at her

He smiled, fangs and all. Just as he was about to speak - the boy he dreaded interrupted their conversation with a scowl plastered on his face

"Y/n, I was looking for you." Arutey said, moving and standing too close to Neteyam - almost as if to push him out of his way

His ears flattened against his head in disappointment as Y/n's eyes moved away from him and towards Arutey

"Yes, Arutey?" She asked, her tone sounding like she was holding in a sigh as he shook his head

"It's private." He said, almost snapping at her as Y/n frowned. She turned to Neteyam and bowed her head in goodbye. She gave him an apologetic look as Neteyam shook his head

"Do not worry about it. We will speak together another time." He said, eyes hard as Arutey stared at him with a hatred he understood. Anyone could've known how Neteyam felt for Y/n with the way he practically gravitated towards her

But he was a boy with honor, and he understood it was not his place to speak to her right now.

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but Arutey's hand latched around her arm and gently pulled her backwards and away, towards him. Neteyam hated the way his hand moved from her arm and to her palms as he interlocked their fingers. They were walking away from him now - but Y/n turned around for one more glance

She held eye contact for a beat. Two beats. And then, she looked away. But this time, it was with a frown.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

He walked to his hammock with his head hanging that night. Arutey wasn't right for her. Why? Well, he couldn't answer that.

He wished his initial dislike for Arutey was for something not related to Y/n. But it was.

Maybe it was how rough he could be - Neteyam knows how Arutey behaves when he's angry. Like how he'd yelled at a younger na'vi for messing up during a hunt - the way the child's eyes welled up with tears had Neteyam ready to crack his bow over Arutey's head.

He knew Y/n would've been upset if she'd seen how he behaved sometimes, but they hadn't been together long enough for her to see that side of him yet.

Or maybe it was the boys ego - too inflated for someone as humble as Y/n.

Or maybe it was because it wasn't him at Y/n's side.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

It was Toruk Makto's yearly celebration of the day the Na'vi won their freedom from the sky people.

Though the Na'vi had many celebrations where they honored the Great Mother and the life they'd been blessed with, Toruk Makto's celebrations were always one to look forward to

Y/n's top was a beautiful shade of purple - made from the petals of Sun Lilies.

From her legs hung beautiful crystals and ornaments that glowed in the moonlight. Her hair was open and out of it's usual braids - falling softly over her shoulders and curling around her

It didn't take Neteyam long to find her. She looked like a flower in bloom with her colorful attire whilst surrounded by the greenery of Pandora

She was talking to a group of girls, laughing at something one of them said

It was a little embarrassing how much time he'd spend watching her from afar - but building the courage to go up to her was something he struggled with.

He knew he couldn't have her, because she wasn't his. But Eywa, sometimes it felt like he was made for her. He knew how silly he would sound if he said it out loud, but he knew - deep down, the love he felt for her would never leave his heart and soul.

Eventually, Lo'ak found Neteyam and dragged him to where he and a group of boys were sitting idly and speaking to each other - obviously intoxicated with something as they spoke loudly and tumbled over their words - laughing.

"Come on, don't be a loner hanging out all by yourself Neteyam." Was what Lo'ak had said to him

Neteyam just rolled his eyes with a laugh. In reality, Neteyam was even more popular than Lo'ak amongst the teenage boys. But, he didn't usually spend too much time with the other boys. They respected the fact that Neteyam liked to be alone sometimes, not even questioning Toruk Makto's son.

Neteyam finally realized Arutey was sitting amongst this group, oblivious to Neteyam's presence. Maybe it was because of how intoxicated the boy was. Neteyam watched him spill his drink as he stood angrily, storming off at something one of the boys had said

"What's wrong with him?" Lo'ak asked as the boy Arutey had been speaking with grinned. He then snickered, straightening himself a little bit as he noticed Neteyam's eyes watching him, like a predator would to its prey, before speaking.

"Just messing with him - his girl doesn't want him anymore." He said as Lo'ak looked at him confused

"What girl is it?" He asked curiously. But Neteyam's head was already turning to find Y/n

She was still sitting with her friends, unknown to the boy who was approaching her

He stood in an instant, following Arutey with furrowed brows as he watched him approach Y/n and drag her away from the party

He watched her protest, trying to get him to let go of her - but his hand held her arm tightly

It was too crowded for her friends to notice that the boy had taken her, only Neteyam had seen the distasteful interaction

Arutey must have been standing behind some tree now, out of sight from the rest of the party. He was slurring his words a bit as he yelled at her. Neteyam could hear his tense voice - but he could not see where they were, as Arutey had moved swiftly when walking with her - and Neteyam had been too far behind to see exactly where he'd gone

His voice grew louder, and Neteyam's anger was growing to the point where it was threatening to snap

Y/n Y/n Y/n

He was yelling at her. Someone was yelling at her.

Neteyan wasn't stupid, he knew the reason Arutey was yelling at her was because of him. And he wouldn't have it go on a single second longer.

His eyes were practically crazed as he searched for her familiar figure.

He followed the voice - hearing the words "You're a liar." and "Unfaithful." echoing through the forest as the voice grew louder - indicating he was getting closer-

He saw her tear streaked face first. The way her lips were parted in shock at Arutey's cruel words as he kept throwing insult after insult.

Arutey's back was to him - but Y/n saw Neteyam approaching them. He felt his stomach physically recoil by the wounded look on her face - but her expression quickly transformed into relief when she saw him

He was furious that Arutey had frightened her so badly - so mad he could've easily killed him with his fury alone. Arutey must have seen the look on her face -because he was turning around to see what she'd been looking at with such wide eyes

But before he could even get a word out - Neteyam's fist collided with his face. A sickening yet satisfying crack meeting his ears as he threw punch after punch.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

They were on each other - throwing hits so powerful it would've knocked out any other regular Na'vi, but the two teens were warriors, and not ready to back down.

Y/n had taken a sharp intake of breath when Neteyam hit Arutey - but she'd let out a cry when Arutey hit Neteyam

"Stop! Please, both of you!" She tried yelling, and the sound of her desperate voice had Neteyam turning away from Arutey and towards her with concern. Unfortunately, that single second of distraction was all Arutey needed as he threw a punch straight at Neteyam's face

"I hate you!" He yelled at Neteyam - his intoxicated mind ready to give his all in this fight with Neteyam

Neteyam merely gritted his teeth and recovered from the hit in an instant - throwing another punch at Arutey as the two of them pummeled each other with flying fists

It seemed their yells had caught the attention of the Na'vi, as they began walking into the forest to see the source of the screaming and fighting

It didn't take long for Toruk Makto to pull Neteyam off of the boy - and for Arutey's friends to pull him away from the confrontation as well

Both boys looked like they could've gone the whole night fighting each other as they were dragged away

Y/n was yelling at Arutey now, slapping the back of his head as he only sat quietly now. She was visibly upset, and Neteyam could only hear her trembling voice as his father yelled at him

"What the hell were you thinking boy? Hey, Neteyam!" He snapped, angrily snapping his fingers in front of Neteyams face - who's mind seemed to be somewhere else entirely

Neteyam blinked, before shaking his head and wiping the blood he felt trickling from his nose with a frown

"I'm sorry dad, I-" He started, but Neytiri quickly cut him off

"We leave Neteyam. Now."

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

After a long lecture from his parents and a proud smirk and slap on the back from Lo'ak, Neteyam struggled to sleep, once again.

He laid in his hammock for maybe an hour before getting up. It took him a second to stand straight, as his head was still a bit dizzy from the hits he'd received from Arutey. 

He sighed uncomfortably before his feet took him out and towards the forest - away from his sleeping family.

Neteyam never got into fights. He really was one of the most civil and peaceful Na'vi in the clan. Fighting was something Lo'ak was known for doing. He didn't even know what was going through his mind when he hit Arutey - but seeing Y/n getting yelled at by that Skxawng had triggered something inside of him.

She was easily the bravest teens amongst the clan - known for her flawless hunting and charming personality. But seeing her with Arutey had always upset him. How did he, of every Na'vi to live, have the privilege to be with her?

He knew he could not interfere with someone else's relationship - but Y/n had been his friend before she began her relationship with Arutey. And Neteyam believed he had the right to protect his friend. His dearest friend, no matter what. He valued their friendship like no other.

"Neteyam?"

He turned slowly at his father voice, seeing him standing sleepily and looking at Neteyam confused.

"Come here kid, come on." He gestured, calling him over as they sat down. He saw how tired his dad was, just barely awake as he sat down with Neteyam. He knew he was in for another lecture.

"Dad, you are tired. We can speak in the morning if you want?" He tried reasoning, but Jake shook his head firmly

"Yea, you think we'll get this type of privacy in the day?" He said, laughing quietly as Neteyam gave him a small smile

Jake was quiet for a moment, almost like he was thinking, before he began speaking.

"Now, tell me what happened. What really happened that made you fight that boy today." He said softly, his tone showing no anger as Neteyam stayed quiet, looking at the ground

Jake waited patiently for Neteyam to gather his thoughts

"Dad... well, there's this girl. Her name - it is Y/n." He started, the words foreign on his tongue as he spoke

Jake raised a knowing brow as Neteyam let out a nervous breath. Jake has heard of Y/n briefly, he knew of the girls sweet nature and skills.

The words were hard for Neteyam to speak because, well, he'd never spoken out loud of his feelings for Y/n before

But they sat for maybe an hour, Neteyam pouring out the feelings and the hurt he'd kept bottled up for so long as Jake nodded along quietly, listening more attentively than ever.

When Neteyam was finished talking, the relief he felt was like no other. Jake grabbed Neteyam gently by the shoulders before speaking

"Now, listen to me Neteyam. She is special to you, I gathered that much. And if someone is special to you - you don't ever let them go. I know that from experience. You know... you're mother was promised to someone else when I met her. Now, I'm not saying to go after someone who doesn't belong to you - what I'm saying is, if you truly, in your heart -" He said, tapping Neteyam's chest gently with his finger before continuing, "If you truly feel she doesn't belong with him, that she isn't happy - then you interfere. The fight you got into... well, I hate to say it, but I'm proud you intervened. Don't tell your mother though -" Jake quickly added concerned as Neteyam let out a heartfelt laugh

"Now - go back to sleep boy. Rest, you're tired, I can tell." Jake said, gently pulling the boy up from where they were sitting as Neteyam smiled

"Goodnight dad." Neteyam said. And right when his head hit his hammock, sleep took over his body before he had the chance to fight it.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Neteyam had spent his morning deep in Pandora's plentiful forest.

Initially, he wanted to clear his mind. But he couldn't stop himself when he saw the array of flowers that were growing plentifully and basking in the suns rays.

He'd seen his father gift it to his mother - a bouquet was what he'd called it.

It became a tradition of Jake's, constantly getting Neytiri bouquets whenever he was out or when she was mad at him. Neteyam loved seeing his mother's face light up when she'd be greeted by the familiar and beautiful array of flowers.

It took him a while to figure out how to create it - but once it was complete, he couldn't have been more proud.

It was colorful, and smelled so sweet that it reminded him of Y/n's own scent. The flowers were all different from one another - two of each kind, one flower to symbolize Y/n, and the other flower to symbolize him.

There were many, and they were tied together by vines expertly. It truly was a beautiful bouquet.

He had hidden the bouquet and spent the entire day with a cheesy grin plastered on his face looking forward to the night - when he planned to seek Y/n out.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

Y/n sat quietly tonight, not speaking much expect for a few please's and thank you's during  dinner

Neteyam frowned as he watched her - she was usually so lively and talkative. He loved eating his food quietly and listening to her talk to the clan with her precious smile

After dinner, she excused herself early and was seemingly bidding her goodnights for the evening.

Widening his eyes at her quick departure, Neteyam also swiftly excused himself as his father gave him a knowing nod - granting him permission to leave

He grabbed the bouquet he'd kept hidden, before taking a deep breath and following after her

"Y/n! Wait!" He yelled out

She turned around, looking a bit confused. But once she realized it was Neteyam who was calling her, he watched her ears lift curiously as her tail swayed awaitingly behind her

"Neteyam." She said breathlessly as he stopped in front of her, looking down towards her as his nervousness finally caught up to him

"Yes, I- are you ok?" He finally managed as she blinked a few times, shaking her head as if to assure him nothing was wrong

"Oh Neteyam, I am fine. I actually wanted to thank you for yesterday. I..." She trailed off as she stared at him, her hands clasped together tightly

"I feel horrible for what he did to you. You did not deserve that, and I - I have never felt so horrible before. I wanted to find you earlier, but I didn't think I could talk to you without - " She stopped, clamping her mouth shut as she took a deep breath in

Neteyam felt his heart sink as he understood what she'd been trying to say by the misty look in her eyes.

She thought she'd start crying if she tried talking to him after last night.

"Y/n... oh Y/n, I am the one who intervened. And for your honor, I will always intervene. Please, do not blame yourself for someones else's ignorance." He said softly, moving one of his hands forward as he tentatively reached for her face

He stopped a few inches from her face, suddenly freezing as he realized how intimate it was to cradle one's face. But it was Y/n who moved forward, resting her cheek against his palm and holding it softly.

She closed her eyes, leaning her cheek into his hand as Neteyam's heart beat quickened - so much that he was sure she could hear it.

"Actually, I stopped you for another reason Y/n. There was something I wanted to give you," He said, trying to calm his heart as his mind felt like he was about to go into the most dangerous battle of his life

She opened her eyes, her lashes damp as she looked at him with eyes so mesmerizing he struggled to form a sentence

"I wanted you to have this... I want you to know, I value you. More than anything Y/n. And if... If you ever need me, for anything at all - I am always here for you." He said, slowly moving his arm to reveal the bouquet he'd kept hidden behind his back during their conversation

He will never forget the look in her eyes when she first saw the bouquet for as long as he lived. 

Her lips parted, her eyes stunned as she took in the beautiful sight of flowers in front of her

And finally, the smile he'd missed so damn much overtook her entire face. The light from it alone bright enough to shine over even the darkest parts of him.

‧͙⁺˚*･༓☾

He wouldn't pursue her the night after the fight. He knew she needed time, and he would wait as long as she'd wish for him to

But, their friendship evolved. 

Before, he spent his time watching her from afar. Now that they were closer as friends, he sat next to her - and Eywa, he began to see the little details he'd missed before.

Like the way her eyes would squint when she'd find something hilarious, or the way her face would be completely still, and only her eyes would move when she was hunting. She would be entirely focused - and he'd be just as still when he'd watch her

She liked swimming. They had spent many nights swimming with each other. She'd tell him of her favorite songs to sing when praying to Eywa, and how she loved sunrises. She'd wake up before every single one just to watch it happen.

He found himself opening up too - his heart giving her everything and more as he shared every bit of him to her. He'd tell her of his struggles as the eldest son, and how sometimes his mother would show him her clever tricks with her bow - he promised he'd show Y/n every single one she wanted to know about. To this, she said she wanted to know them all.

She learned everything about him - and he learned and loved everything about her. 

He didn't think he could fall in love with her anymore than before, but he was wrong.

Neteyam awoke early today, it was still dark out, but the smile on his face couldn't have been any more brighter

She'd invited him to watch the sunrise with her. Nobody else knew she'd wake to watch the sunrise - and he felt his heart physically stutter in his chest when she asked him to come with her.

It was a special moment of her day - and she wanted to share it with him.

He saw her sitting peacefully, eyes closed as her legs hung over the edge of the ledge she was sitting on

He sat down quietly next to her, and she turned to him with a smile

"Hi." She said quietly, her eyes twinkling in the dim light. Neteyam felt his heart swoon at the sight of her

"Hi." He whispered back, before the two of them turned to the view in front of them

The sun was barely peeking over the horizon, her rays ready to touch the sky as Y/n turned to him

He turned away from the sun and to her, and she moved to hold his hand

"I wanted to tell you something important, Neteyam." She said, her voice gentle as his ears perked up

"Of course, is something wrong?" He asked, his voice genuinely concerned as she let out a quiet laugh

"Nothing is wrong, I just..." She trailed off as she stared at him, her eyes filled with an emotion he didn't entirely understand just yet

He remained quiet and waited for her to speak again, squeezing her hand reassuringly as she shook her head

Moving forward, she pressed her lips to his.

They were soft and gentle and sweet. He blinked rapidly, before leaning into her. His mind immediately freezing as he felt her hand gently hold his face

As she pulled back, the sun's light illuminated her face so radiantly, that Neteyam's breath was simply taken away.

She laughed at the look on his face, her smile enchanting him in a way no one else could've.

"I like you, Neteyam. More than friends. More like -"

"Lovers." He breathed out, still unable to believe what had just happened

She nodded her head, eyes beaming at him with love, he realized

"Eywa, I've been waiting for you to say that." He said lovingly with a grin that matched hers as he leaned towards her and connected their lips once again, the sun's light shining on them both as they enveloped each other longingly.

[alfascorpiionux]

Astro notes ~1

Hope you’ll enjoy it~💛

Aries people with Moon in Libra/Virgo can be extremely petty and tend to get jealous easily (this applies to friendships as well). They are very loyal though, and some of the most active, hardworking people you’ll come across.

Libra people are some of the friendliest you can find and are known for their good taste and usually good social skills.

Libra with Moon in Pisces has lots of crushes and falls in love easily (but more times than not with the wrong people, much to their dismay). Is sensitive, undecisive. Can be both giving and selfish at the same time. Needs plenty of time by himself/herself to recharge and get detached from others’ feelings, problems.

Moon in Sagittarius: I cannot emphasise this enough: we absolutely loath showing weakness especially when in a group setting and always want to view the world with the “glass half-full” mentality. The unevolved energies of this placement might have commitment issues beacuse we tend to live life based on principles and have quite high standards when it comes to the people we let it. So when our view of the “perfect” you is shattered it can be quite heartbreaking and we may distance ourselves to study you further or try to forget the hurt you caused us. There is a certain grade of naivety, childlike wonder to this placement which can be infectious to other people. You can make somebody’s day brighter with your words and attitude. You also probably have a very strong moral compass, a philosophical outlook on life and are quite friendly.

The lower energies of this placement predispose to anger (which is expressed differently depending on the house your Moon is placed in; typically it’s more concealed, especially in the beginning), short temper, commitment issues, forgetfulness.

Aries Venus in 12th house: oscillating between shyness and boldness, this native is a mix of curious qualities: fiery passion and flirty banter coupled with increased sensitivity to the needs of his/her partner. Creative, generous, dynamic, there is no dull moment with this native around.

He/She will know how to get to the deepest corners of your soul. He/She is looking for something real, something raw and authentic in you. May not like what he/she finds but wants it nonetheless beacuse it’ll be something special the both of you share.

The lower energies of this placement predispose to escapism, low self confidence, compulsions and difficulties in the dating scene (might start dating late, choose wrong partners or not have strong enough boundaries in relationships).

The higher energies manifest in beautiful, almost self-sacrificing ways: increased generosity and sensitivity to other people, especially children and the elderly, maybe animals too. A certain dreaminess in the way you act, express yourself.

When it comes to making love, you are literal FIRE once you open up and feel ready with the right person. You don’t shy away from new positions, are experimental and might even pull out some sexy lingerie from your drawer (lingerie that nobody else may know about or s*x toys - your secret is safe with me!). Fetishes could be possible but you may not even admit them yourself. 12th house placement could suggest secret love affairs or a special taste for something forbidden. Very careful that you don’t put yourself in situations that disregard your value as a person. Self reflection and journaling could be especially helpful with this position!

Leo Rising: are cool, stylish, proud and regal. Whenever they enter a room you’ll feel a warm and encompassing aura. People notice it and will tend to gravitate towards this native, for good or for worse. Whenever Leo is present, especially in the personal planets, you can expect a certain level of drama and stubbornness. If it’s the ascendant that is in the sign on Leo, the native will have a solid self-confidence, will typically carry herself with much pride and may even be quarrelsome at times. “The queen stands no disrespect” could be their motto. At low expression, Leo rising may continually deny it when they have a problem or refuse to talk about it (mostly out of stubbornness and because they prefer to lick their own wounds and hide them from other people).

Taurus Sun with Cancer Moon: some of the warmest, kindest and most loyal friends you could possibly find. They know the value of the given word, will show up to appointments and will take your secrets to the grave. You can vent to this natives about your problems because they will listen and not be judgmental and will even offer a shoulder for you to cry on.

They are shy at first, especially around strangers but will know to speak up when the situation calls for it. It is perhaps not known about them just how tough they can be. Yes, they may cry easily but will always stand up and move forward. When you annoy they will not only acknowledge it but will also confront you about it. They might not tell you right away that they have a lover for example, even when you are close friends. You ask them why, it’s because “you never asked me yourself”. Truthfully it’s because they value personal relationships and privacy so much. They will not gossip just because they can. And some feelings cannot be simply put to words, they should and could only be shared between the two lovers.

The only low manifestation I see is that they can at times have a very one-track mind, especially if they find an activity they really like. You will ask them 5 times in the span of 2 weeks what they are doing, at different times of day, and they will say “I am dancing” or “I am going riding”. Get the picture?

Gemini with Cancer placements: it can go very different ways, but it will usually lead to a person being very social and having lots of friends and/or lovers. It can lead to “drama queen” behaviour but not always. Native is an emotional kind of speaker and can find common ground with almost anybody. He/She is probably very smart and intuitive. The type of person that will get all the good grades without learning much and will impress almost anybody they meet because of their charm and social skills. He/She could, however, be quite flighty and/or chaotic in everyday life.

When I say the expression of the Moon sign very much depends on the Sun sign, I am not kidding. For example, in case of the Taurus native, the Moon in Cancer amplified his/her “motherlike, feminine” qualities. The two signs felt like they complemented each other. The end result felt harmonious and well-rounded. In the case of the Gemini native, however, it leads to a certain amount of friction, particularly because the signs of Cancer and Gemini have very different manners of relating to life. You can look up the aspects if you want to find out more (I am by no means a professional astrologer only an enthusiast 😆).

At low manifestations it could lead to emotional manipulation, drama queen behaviour, a special taste for quarrelling.

BONUS:

Lilith in the first house: this is not talked about nearly enough - self esteem issues! Lilith being in the house of the self brings a particular type of emotional dilemma, the dilemma of “who am I”. I know it sounds strange, but hear me out. I am sure you’ve already read many other posts that highlight the good qualities of Lilith, until you’ve reached my post, so I will only mention a few: charisma, sex appeal and a mysterious, somewhat rebellious air. It is also said that the native, due to his/her particular kind of aura, will invite partners who will try to tame him/her. I don’t know how true that is, and it is not yet the moment we debate this subject. Perhaps in a future post .

We will talk about the young and naive Lilith who is thrust in this wilderness we call life. She doesn’t know who she is, what she wants and can or cannot do so she stagnates. She observes life and at first tries to be a good girl, always pleasant and accommodating. At first she wants to fit in badly, she want the recognition of others and will do almost anything for it. She needs it like the air she breaths. However, something always happens and her plan never works. Or rather it does, but the price to pay will be exorbitantly high: her whole individuality, her authenticity. But does young Lilith know what’s laying dormant inside her? Being so oblivious of her own authenticity and power, she has nearly lost it completely. She has given in up for someone and now she feels bitter and angry. She has come to a realization. She cannot stand X trait in people(example: dishonesty). Okay, so that means I must be a super honest person or at least value it greatly. Moving on - what’s about loyalty? I think I know something but really am just scratching the surface. Such is the journey of Lilith. A journey of continual self-discovery. It starts with a young, very unsure hero who perhaps is also very naive only to later turn into a determined, empowered, self assured person who will always follow her own path, no matter what other say or do. They will be missteps and perhaps even a few fractures on this journey but it is one only you can embark on in pursuit of the Holy Grail, if you may. At the end of the day, you may realise it has always been inside yourself, hidden, awaiting to be rediscovered and embraced.

Thank you for taking the time to read my post and if you feel you resonate with my writing please leave a comment below and let me know. Would love to chat with you guys.💕

[gor3-hound]

'TIL DEATH DO US PART // NAOYA ZENIN

ft. fox!naoya zenin x bunny!f!reader

a/n: guys i cannot for the life of me think of good fic titles... hicc... another commission for the no.1 naoya stan @nexysworld !!

cw: 18+ content, dead dove do not eat, non-con, abuse references, hot water burns, biting, claws, forced breeding, creampie, p in v, riding... not super hybrid focused, but knotting and stuff !! forced marriage/coercive marriage

word count: 1.6k words

Being the favoured whore of Naoya Zen'in is considered an honourable position to have. You would be blind to miss the envious gazes of the other servants within the clan walls as you make your way through the halls once more, towards his room.

You're sure their jealousy would dissipate if they knew how he truly was. He did not mask his attitude, his distaste for women as a whole – for prey women, no less. The extent of it was not something even you had anticipated. You had theoretically climbed the ranks to an easier job. After all, you'd gotten your own chambers. Three square meals most days. It was no wonder the other women wished they were in your position.

You'd gladly take your old station if it meant you didn't have to be a bed warmer for the Zen'in heir. He was cruel, not only in his words, but his actions. He would use you to his own satisfaction, tossing you aside without a second thought once he was done. Your body ached more each time he called on you, new scars and marks marring your once perfect skin.

You were sick of it.

Your hands shake as you stand in front of the door leading to his room, tea sloshing precariously in the mug you held in one hand. You swallow thickly, taking in a deep breath through your nose to steel your nerves. You know what your punishment will be if you get caught, but you know Naoya's pride exceeds anything else. If you succeeded, he wouldn't dare breathe a word of what happened. You would become his wife – he would have to wed you. You'd gain enough power to calm his cruelty, to reign him in even slightly. You'd take anything over the treatment you were receiving now.

You raise your free hand to knock on his door, tail twitching anxiously behind you. A lump forms in your throat as you hear footsteps approaching the door, one that you have to swallow multiple times to dislodge. You force a smile onto your face as he opens the door, floppy ears perking up as your eyes settle on him.

“The servants prepared your tea, master. I brought it with me to save them the trip.” You say as steadily as you can, attempting to mask the shaking of your voice. You only hoped the sizzling had died down, that the herbs you'd added to the liquid would not be too noticeable.

His lip curls as he gazes at you, showing a flash of a sharp canine tooth. His tail flickers with irritation which you choose to ignore. It would all be okay, as long as he wasn't suspicious of your actions.

“I don't recall asking you to speak, woman.” He huffs, taking the mug from your hand as he steps aside, walking into the room. He pauses as he nears the bed, glancing back over his shoulder. “Well? Come in, and strip. I don’t wish to waste any more time tonight. You're late.”

You nod once, stepping into the room and closing the door behind you. You step into the centre of the room, stopping in front of Naoya as he sits on the bed, taking a sip of the tea. Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, almost painfully as you wait to see if he notices a difference in the flavour. He says nothing.

Slowly, you shed the clothes from your body, unable to conceal the trembling of your hands as you do so. Naoya notices, of course, but his expression twists into one of amusement as he sips at the tea once more. He hasn't caught you out, not yet. The effects of the herbs would begin to show soon, you hoped. Before he realised what you had done.

“Do I scare you, girl?” He says, head tilting to the side as his gaze flicks across your body, taking in the array of bite marks and scars left by his hand. A sharp grin spreads across his features as he takes you in, pride shining on his face in a way that makes you feel sick. You shake your head, and a hand comes out to force you to your knees.

“A bunny at the mercy of a fox, putting on a brave face?” He says with a chuckle, condescension lacing his voice. “You should be scared.”

The burn settles into your skin before you see the movement of his hand, the now emptied cup being dropped at your feet as the hot water seeps into your skin, making you cry out in pain. Your arm shakes and trembles, but you do your best to silence any other cries. His hand grasps your injured arm, squeezing just so he can hear you whimper once more.

“Almost as pretty as the sounds you make under me.” He hums as he yanks you up onto the bed. His claws dig harshly into the soft flesh of your arm, droplets of blood rising to the surface of your skin before trailing downwards.

He works on his own clothes as he nips at the skin of your neck, biting down harshly at the juncture of your throat when he's finally able to shimmy out of his underwear. He growls softly, pulling back to lick over his teeth with his tongue. His gaze is hazy, almost distant as he looks down at you.

“Tastes… so good, bunny.” He huffs, but the words sound strained – forced. The grin falls slowly from his face. Naoya blinks multiple times, eyelids heavy and almost sticky, like he's struggling to open them fully.

“Fuck… my head.” He grunts, raising a hand to hold it against his forehead, eyes squeezing shut. He sways on his knees, unstable. “Fetch… a servant. Call for a servant, girl.”

As soon as you hear the slurred manner of his words, you know you've succeeded. You'd planted enough of the herbs for them to be effective despite the small amount he'd drunk, relief rushing to you when you realise your plan was working.

It's easy to push him onto his back, straddling his hips. Almost too easy. You gaze down at him in suspicion, but he barely moves. Not even a twitch of annoyance crosses his face as his body goes slack against the sheets. His eyes are practically glazed over as he looks at you. It's almost unnerving – like he's looking right through you.

“Y-you…” The word comes out thick, his tongue too heavy in his mouth to properly form the words he wishes to say. He feels like he's choking on them. “Whore.”

“I'll be your wife, soon enough.” You reply sharply, lowering yourself steadily onto his half-hard cock. It's the only part of him that appears to be working fully, twitching to life inside of you until the tip kisses your cervix. You lift yourself up, hands steadying your movements as they press against his chest. You pulse around him, and his hips buck almost imperceptibly. Another choked sound leaves his lips, which curl back to reveal gritted teeth and sharp fangs.

“I would never… take a whore wife.” He grits out, the effort it takes to speak causing drool to form in his mouth, spilling past the corners of his lips. His body strains as he attempts to move, his muscles too relaxed for him to make any progress despite his best efforts.

“You have no choice.” You say simply, rolling your hips in a steady pace as you fuck yourself on his length, setting a pace you know he enjoys. “I'll bear your heirs. Do you think your father will allow his only son to sire bastards that weaken his family's claim? I doubt it.”

A growl rises in his throat, fingers twitching desperately as he attempts to raise his arms to push you off of him. All he manages is to grab the sheets beneath them with a low whine, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes.

“Please.” He whimpers, voice weak and barely audible. You can't help but laugh, rocking your hips down once more, greedy cunt swallowing each and every inch of him with ease.

“Please?” You repeat, watching the tears that stream down his face with satisfaction. “That's never worked on you, has it? No matter how much I begged and pleaded, you never faltered.”

You watch him open his mouth once more, almost anticipating an apology. It does not come. His head tilts to the side – the best he can do to conceal the pitiful expression on his face without full control of his body. His Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he swallows the sorry resting on the tip of his tongue, eyes shutting once more.

He gasps as he cums, expression becoming tense as he fills you. You press down until he's buried to the hilt inside you, his knot swelling and plugging you full of his seed. He's always been so careful as to avoid spilling inside of you – bunnies we're known for their fertility, and he could not risk siring a bastard with his already weak claim. You can almost sense how defeated he is, a surge of pride shooting through you. A shaky sigh leaves your lips as you still, head tilting down so you can look at him.

He's already looking at you, eyes sharp and narrowed. His expression is filled with resentment, hatred and anger blurring together. You meet his gaze, unwavering as he attempts to stare you down. Eventually, he concedes, allowing his head to fall to the side once more like a scolded puppy depsite the way his cock as already started to harden again, locked inside of you with his swollen knot. You lean down to speak, lips brushing his ear.

“You should consider wedding preparations. I doubt your reputation could take the scandal of this got out.”

[vxsellie]

would you be willing to write an ellie x reader fic where ellie is finally meeting reader’s parents but it doesn’t go the best. reader comes from an emotionally abusive and unstable home. at dinner they’re constantly being passive aggressive about readers weight, appearance, literally anything and they think ellie will join in but she is NOT having it.

ellie sits beside you with a pinched expression. this entire dinner has been hell, your parents continuously making comments on you. she has one hand on your thigh under the table, out of your parents' sight. it calms you a bit, but not enough to drown out their nagging voices. you fight to ignore them, reaching over the table to get another serving of pasta. ellie is fast to help you, holding the pot still while you scoop. you give her a small smile as you sit back down, a silent thanks for her aid.

your father clears his throat. you look up at the sound, making eye contact across the table. his gaze is sharp. "another plate? seriously?"

"oh. uh⎯" you begin, but you're cut off by your mother adding onto the comment.

"yeah, i'm not too sure you need a second serving, dear." she says. the nickname is a weak attempt at blanketing her harsh words, aiming to make the hit less obvious. where your father is obvious in his malice, your mother at least makes an attempt at covering it. honestly, you think that makes it even worse at times. "the grease gives you blemishes. and the calories add to your.. frame."

you frown but nod, pushing your plate away from yourself as you cast your head down toward your lap. ellie remains silent, but you notice the way her jaw clenches and her shoulders tense.

"i mean, look at ellie." your father says, pointing at her with the hilt of his fork as he chews on his third serving. ellie looks up at him, raising a brow as she tries desperately to remain respectful. he looks her up and down before turning to you. "she's managed to stay fit. ain't that hard."

your mother chuckles at this, turning to ellie with a warming smile than you'd ever seen her give you. "honestly! we try to tell her how important this stuff is but, well, she obviously doesn't heed our warnings. maybe you could try talking to her, ellie? i'm sure she'd listen to you more so than us."

ellie opens her mouth to speak but ends up closing it again, staring at your mother incredulously. there's no fucking way she just said that about you in front of her. ellie can't fathom the idea of someone seeing you this way. in her eyes, there's not a thing about you that needs changing. every little curve and scar is beautiful and perfect in her eyes. she struggles to wrap her head around the words your parents are so carelessly spitting at you. but they just don't make sense.

she glances over at you, your parents' voices fading into a bothersome sound of repeated insults.

your head is downcast, eyes completely blank as you accept their words without much thought to how horrid they are. your shoulders are hunched, lips pursed. she hates seeing you like this ⎯ shut down and reserved. she'd prefer you to scream or cry over this. your emotions and feelings are so very important to her. clearly, as it turns out, your parents don't seem to share this priority.

"ellie?" your mother calls out. ellie turns to her, patience thinning by the second. "you agree with us, don't you?"

she tries to stay quiet, she really really fucking does. but after seeing that look on your face and having to listen to your parents all through dinner, she can't. she simply cannot take it anymore. she turns to your mother with a deeply set scowl, brow knitted and jaw clenched.

"no." she snaps. you raise your head, whipping it in her direction after having been completely convinced she'd agree with them. your heart swells at the sight of your girlfriend standing up for you. "any parent with an ounce of decency would know better than to shun their own daughter for an hour straight. and, on top of that, it's just completely insensitive for you to continue to do so when you have a guest over. and to invite her lover to join in on your insults? fucking pathetic. both of you."

the room goes silent, the only sound being the ac blowing through the vent with a gentle hum. ellie continues to stare both your parents down as you hold your breath, unsure on what they'll do. you'd never even entertained the thought of speaking to them like that.

ellie then stands from her chair, the legs of it scratching loudly against the wooden floorboards. she thanks them for dinner, voice still laced with venom, then turns to you. her features suddenly soften and she holds out a hand to you, offering to help you to your feet. you take it, standing with a shaky breath, the weight of what just happened pressing hard against your chest.

"you wanna go out for ice cream?" she asks you.

your face instantly splits, a large smile overtaking your lips as your stare at her with the utmost love you could ever possibly offer. you squeeze her hand, your parents glaring eyes fading away as you focus solely on ellie. "yes please."

sorry this is a little long, this req is just so sweet & i couldn't wait to write it