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fxtalitygod · 7 months ago

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X. ~Survival~

Genre: Historical AU, angst, mature, suggestive, arranged-marriage

Warnings: Dark themes, gore, graphic imagery, theme/depictions of horror, body horror, swearing/language, suggestive, pregnancy, mentions and acts of suicide, arguments, mentions of adult murder, Pet name (Little Flower 6-10x) implied Stockholm Syndrome, grief imagery, images/depictions of dead bodies, child death/murder, character death(s), slight misogynistic themes (if you squint), dubcon/noncon (not any actual smut other than vague mentions of sex), implied postpartum, implied survivors guilt

Word Count: 3.5k

A/N: Today is a new day and after I got home from work and did some fine-tuning, I finally posted the FINAL CHAPTER (not including the epilogue) of Survival!!! I honestly find it funny that I had originally planned for this story to be a short series and it just spiraled into two years of writing! HAHAHAHAA!!!

JJK Mlist•Taglist Rules• • Pt.I • Pt. II • Pt. III • Pt. IV • Pt. V • Pt. VI • Pt.VII • Pt. VIII • Pt. IX • Pt. X • Epilogue

Emptiness.

It was a feeling that you bitterly greeted after having abandoned it six years ago. It was disappointing, but welcome nonetheless. You wished it was under different circumstances. You did not know which circumstances but knew it was anything other than this.

After the destruction of your life, everything went back to the beginning. You were rehomed in a new village and a different temple, though you could not tell much of the difference. Those blank walls still drove you to insanity. The marriage ceremonies had resumed and more children began crawling the halls in a matter of months.

Sukuna had seemingly lost interest in you after the incident. You had finally snapped, extinguishing the anticipation for the hopes that you would one day. Despite his seeming lack of interest, you were still watched over with diligence, still resided in his chambers, and still acquired a caretaker.

Your mental forces were deteriorating, and it was clear from the blank expression that graced your face. You assumed that Sukuna acknowledged that and decided to have a sitter stay on top of you if you were to do something unexpected– much like what you had done to your village.

The curse user knew the extent of your rage, but he did not quite expect you to leave your home in ruins, to burn your family into nothing but ash. Little to your knowledge, a part of him admired you for that; however, the words that left your mouth after the act had been done brought him a discomfort that neither himself could explain.

From the way he was rutting in you currently, you could not tell. Another attempt of impregnating you. Years ago, you would have had a mind to beg him to stop, and when you could not accomplish that, feign pleasure. You used to want to please Sukuna not for his benefit but your own. Now all you cared about was embracing the feeling of that emptiness as you merely felt the man fucking you: soundless, motionless, thoughtless.

It took a matter of months before you were with child again; however, unlike before, this pregnancy was worse. In the physical aspect, you were overall healthy, but your mental health was far from good. You were a husk of the woman you once were, having lost all ambition for your future. Even when spontaneous thoughts of what life would be like outside the temple, you could not help but feel nauseous.

Guilt.

There were times you wished you could have blamed it on your pregnancy and escape the reality of the issue, but your mind would not allow it. You were repulsed with yourself and could not help but feel like you were betraying your twins by just the simple notion that you were alive, and to think of a future for yourself without them revolted you beyond compare. Your pregnancy did not make it any better.

Most women in the temple thought of pregnancy as a fresh start after losing their previous offspring; a new chance to impress their husband– a sickening point of view; however, you could not be upset with them. Deep down, you believed they had been just as afraid as you were upon their arrival when their village elders proclaimed them the next tribute to Sukuna. They more than likely had a plan to make it out of this hell and made promises to return to their families, but somewhere down the line, all the manipulation, physical strain, and mental stress, caused them to accept their fates and try to make the best out of it, losing themselves in the process.

You were not so lucky.

If pregnancy was a punishment before, it was a curse now. Knowing you were to have another child brought you great remorse. Anytime you were to look or even feel your bump, you could not help but think of the past... to think of your twins. It felt like you were betraying them, trying to unconsciously replace them even though your pregnancy was out of your control.

The way you would eat at yourself could have been considered torture.

Besides the normal work around the temple, you would spend most of your evenings in a dark and unoccupied room, keeping to yourself. No one dared to disrupt you, mostly out of fear due to the knowledge of your power. Few left you space out of respect, knowing the pain you were going through; however, sometimes you wished they would walk through that door, hoping they would attempt to comfort you.

It would have been a good distraction from your running mind.

Those dark and quiet rooms gave you time to think and reflect. You realized there were many things you had undermined and denied for your own sanity. The list could go on, some minor, some major…and the major miscalculations stuck out like a sore thumb.

Trimester One.

Despite your efforts, your village nor your family would have ever accepted your children– Sukuna's blood coursed through their veins, and that was enough to consider them a monstrosity. Your hopes of escaping with them and living a happy life were an illusion you conjured up to keep a drive in you.

Trimester Two.

Whether you liked it or not, your twins would not stay innocent forever. The twins were under Sukuna's guidance, no thanks to your pact, and they absolutely adored him. The twins blindly trusted him with their entire beings and would have believed anything Sukuna had taught them was for good, and you knew for a fact that is how your partner would have spun it. Their acts would have been malicious and cruel and they would not have even known...and despite your want to tell them the truth, the constraints of your pact would have stopped you from doing so.

Trimester Three.

Even if you had successfully run away with your son and daughter in hand, the life the three of you would have lived would have been far from peaceful. You and the children were proven valuable assets to Sukuna; to think that your husband would give you all up so easily was foolish. The curse-user would have hunted you down to the ends of the world until you were back in his grasp.

And as you sat there holding your new baby girl, tears streaming down your face as you listened to her whimpers, you hoped she'd grow up to be a fool; a strong, but foolish girl. If your daughter grew up to be a fool, the world could not hurt her as it had hurt you. If she becomes a fool, she would not have to feel the burden you were feeling.

You hated that you hoped for her, hated the fact that you loved and cared for her after laying eyes on her small figure. The whole scene was pitiful. The arms of a mother holding her child close to her bosom as if shielding them from the world– the effort could be appreciated but was futile because the looming threat was already hovering over you as he inspected his creation. If his presence was not unsettling enough, his hum of satisfaction horrified you, causing you more tears.

"I should have killed myself that morning. It would have saved me a lot of heartache..." you whispered, repeating the words you had mentioned over a year ago.

Months back into motherhood you found yourself questioning yourself and your emotional availability every time you looked at your daughter. You were doing all the right things, but performing the tasks felt heavy on your shoulders, and the smiles you painted on your face felt like they were caked on. None of it felt real. There was no doubt you cared for your little girl, but you had to admit that the task was tiring– caring was tiring.

You thought the feeling would end, believed it was temporary, but days turned into months, and months turned into a year.

You had just finished your daughter's first inspection and were now in your sleeping chambers with your husband. You both stood there silent and unmoving, staring at each other with hardly any indication of who was willing to speak first. Fortunately, your daughter was the first to break the silence, whining as she clung to you. You sighed as you understood the child needed attention, moving the baby into a better position to lightly bounce her, attempting to calm her down.

"You know, I thought you would be overjoyed to be blessed with another child, Y/n," Sukuna sounded as he studied you.

"Whatever do you mean? I am nothing but pleased," you blankly responded, focusing entirely on the little girl bouncing in your arms.

Silence once again.

You could feel his stare burning into you; feel his agitation radiating off his skin as he looked for a real answer. Sukuna was not an idiot, you were aware of that, but his meaningless probing was getting on your nerves. You would much rather he got to the point than play his mind games. If he was going to be indirect, you would only do the same.

"Do you think of them when you look at her?"

There was a halt in your movements, breath hitching as you did so. You slowly moved your head to look at the man before you, your gaze piercing. You had every intention to avoid the question, but your mouth betrayed your mind.

“What do you think?” You snipped, a grimace forming onto your features.

“I could make you forget, simply remove them from your memory to rid you of this…ailment.”

For what felt like the thousandth time of your life, you could feel your eyes widen, however, this was the most appalling statement your husband had made. Had he really suggested ridding your memories with your twins? Had he no remorse? Of course not, why would he? The children were a means to an end, nothing more than a few pawns in his plan. Any love and affection the father had shown his son and daughter were shown with calculation and precision– there was no meaning behind those affections.

"You sick bastard."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me."

"Y/n, I would advise that you watch your tone," a warning glare, "If I did not know any better, I would say that you were speaking out of turn when I am offering you such a gift– I do not offer such things lightly."

"Well it is good that you know better," the seething anger bubbling in your chest was choosing your words at this point, "How could you suggest such a thing?"

"I am doing you a mercy, Y/n, you are letting the past consume you from the inside out, and sooner or later you will become the image of your agony."

"You know nothing because if you did you would be in the same state as I am. You speak as if you know sympathy, but your words are honeyed to keep me in your grasp!"

Your breath was heavy as you confronted Sukuna, glaring daggers into his soul as you watched him step closer.

"Your perception can be quite bothersome at times, Little Flower; however, I believe it is what I admire most about you. I think it is why I chose you...why I love you."

Love.

"Love."

Your laughter was hysterical. The tears welling up in your eyes from pure disbelief and humor. Sukuna Ryomen himself has admitted to loving you for the second time. This time claiming he chose you because he loves you.

What a joke.

"Love me?" you choked between giggles, "Sukuna, you would not know love if it hit you in the face. Like I said before, your words are coated with the sweetest sugars to keep me around, to bring me hope, and quite frankly, the sweetness has become dull and bitter," a pause as you caught your breath, "You do not love me Sukuna. As I have stated, you love what I can provide you."

Silence had greeted you both for what seemed like the millionth time, but you could have been wrong, you lost count at this point.

"I understand the concept of love, more than you think, Little Flower; however, love has little meaning. So you are right, I do not love you, I value you. Is that not greater than love?"

You scoffed.

"You are going to die alone and I am glad that you will."

A soft chuckle sounded from your husband before feeling a strange feeling at the back of your head. You could feel the kanzashi pin moving in your hair as Sukuna played with the accessory.

"I highly doubt that."

Those four words had caused your heart to sink, bringing you more fear than you had ever experienced in your entire life. Without thought, you backed away from the man towering over you. You shook your head as you held eye contact with Sukuna, almost stumbling on your feet as you felt for the door and clumsily exited the room. You had your daughter close to your chest as you entered the hallway.

What little you had of your life came crashing down instantly as the gravity of your reality unfolded to its full extent.

You would never be free and although that was a realization you had made long ago...this time you had no hope to convince you otherwise.

So what did you do?

You ran.

You flew through the corridors to the gardens, arriving with heavy breath. Scanning the grounds you searched for the only individual who could help you right now. The moment your eyes registered the woman, you quickly approached, hardly paying attention to anything along your path as you made your way over.

"Y/n-"

"I have something for you!" you interrupted, holding out a pin you had stored and concealed for years, never knowing the right moment to give it to the woman before you.

The woman who had lost her sick and poor son on your very first inspection day.

You watched as her eyes welled up immediately, taking the pin and inspecting it as if to make sure it was real. When she was able to confirm the little trinket was indeed not a figment of her imagination, she held it close to her chest, letting her silent sobs escape before looking at you.

"Thank you. Thank you so much. But why are you giving this to me?"

You looked around hesitantly before pitifully looking at her, letting your walls crumble to reveal all your pain and suffering.

"I need your help."

"Uraume!"

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the right hand responded.

"I would like you to gather the women and children from the inspection, I have an announcement."

"Yes, Sukuna-sama, I'll get right on it."

With that Uraume disappeared, leaving Sukuna in his quarters alone. The man paced in his chambers, reflecting on the prior conversation from earlier. The talk did not have the most satisfying ending, but much like the other unfortunate discussions that had been held between the two of you, this would be another problem that would resolve itself in due time.

The move would help move that process faster.

This village had quickly bored the tyrant, as they were quick to promise vengeance and destruction upon his empire. Same-old-same-old. So with that, it was time to move on to the next village after leaving this one behind in ashes.

"Sukuna-sama, the women and children do not appear to be in their chambers or the gardens, the workstations are abandoned too.

"What?"

Without a thought, Sukuna stormed out of the room and into the halls, those blank walls making the temple look more abandoned knowing that everyone had seemingly disappeared. He looked through every room he managed to pass, even using his abilities to sense the faintest amount of cursed energy. For a while, he came up with nothing, but after catching a familiar aura, he briskly started to follow the direction it was coming from.

The curse-user found himself in the main hall, where he saw his wives and children gathered. The husband would be lying if he claimed he was not confused with the situation, but he would not show that. Instead, Sukuna decided to try and decipher the scenario.

Upon first glance, it had seemed that the women and children were gathered for a usual gathering, but upon closer observation, something was off. The looks of the individuals in the room seemed to differ. Some women seemed relieved, others looked almost proud, and others...well, the last of the women looked as if they were being held there against their will.

As the monster-of-a-man continued to scan the room, he finally managed to find you, standing in the center of the room, your head held high; however, you looked exhausted, broken. It brought that familiar discomforting feeling to Sukuna, the same feeling when you had spoken those words after you had burned down your village.

"What is this, Little Flower?" Sukuna questioned with some amusement behind his voice, masking his indifference.

"Do not call me that," you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper as it softly echoed in the room.

"Y/n-sama ple-"

"SHUT YOUR MOUTH!" you yelled, successfully silencing the crying woman who had shouted for you.

The atmosphere was tense, and he would tread carefully because Sukuna was no fool.

"What do you want, Little Flower? An apology? I can, obviously, give that to you, but we both know it would not solve much. So what is it you truly want?"

"To leave..." you weakly announced, watching as Sukuna gradually approached before stopping in his footsteps.

"Well then, Little Flower, you have gathered yourself and all your companions just in time, I was ready to announce our departure from this village. You get what you want, righ-"

"That's not what I want." you interrupted.

Sukuna was silent, his brow twitching in irritation as he stared at you, stopping mid-stride.

"Then what do you want?"

"I want the offer you gave me back on the table?" you quickly responded.

"And what offer would you be referring to, Little Flower?"

"On my very first inspection with my twins, you offered me to kill everyone in this room– I want to change my answer."

Your husband chuckled, "Do you not think the circumstances have changed a little, my dear? I gave you that option years ago, what makes you think that is something I am still willing to offer?"

"Because you love me..."

"Now you are willing to embrace that love?"

"Only if you do this one last thing for me. I will let you love me until my last mortal days, and me in return, just as long as everyone in this room dies."

A sly smirk, "As you wish, Little Flow-"

"By my hands!" you interjected.

Delight was an expression that Sukuna could not hold back at those words.

"It's a deal, Y/n."

"Perfect."

With those words sealing the pact, you took no further wait in your next actions. You ignored all the shouts and screams of those who wished to live, ridding yourself of whatever empathy you once had– you had to admit, it made things a lot easier when setting the room ablaze. Hearing their screams of agony and pain was a lot easier when you managed to wash out the humanity within you.

You could only feel relief after hearing all the shrieks and wails die out into nothing but silence. The room was filled with nothing but fire, bone, and ashes, the smell of burning flesh was prominent; however, that did not stop him from approaching you.

"I love you, Little Flower." Sukuna proclaimed, bringing his forehead to yours before softly kissing you.

He pulled away to look into your eyes, admiring them momentarily before smiling softly. Some may have mistaken it for a look of endearment, but it was a look of satisfaction. He had successfully taken your pride, dignity, and hope– he had taken all of you.

"I love you too."

And because you had no pride, dignity, or hope, left to hold on to...

It made it so much easier to bring that poison-coated dagger to your flesh and slit your belly.

For Sukuna everything went in slow motion, immediately swatting the dagger from your hand to the ground before cupping your wound, blood covering his hand in seconds. The desperate individual tried using his reverse curse technique to revert the damage, but it was pointless as you were resisting. For the first time in a long time, Sukuna felt genuine fear as he watched you slowly slip away from reality. And as everything started to play back to speed, Sukuna had a realization.

"Where is our daughter?!" The four-armed monstrosity yelled upon notice of your empty arms, continuing at attempts to stop your bleeding with little success.

Your smile made his heart drop.

"Gone." you sputtered, blood slipping from your cooling lips before going completely limp.

"...Gone where? Little Flower..."

"Little Flower!"

"LITTLE FLOWER, ANSWER ME!"

"Y/N!!!!!!!!"

You upheld your deal...you loved him for your last mortal days, it just so happened that day was seconds into a day, and as Sukuna sat there holding your motionless form, he could not have regretted anything more in his life. Making that deal was the best thing to happen in your life because in the end...

...You won the game of Survival.

And you hoped that your daughter could one day do the same.

Until the epilogue yall... (｀∀´)Ψ

Taglist:

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watchmegetobsessed · 1 year ago

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ILLICIT ACTS

A/N: i hope yall are ready, the edging is finally over, but first, it's some jealous harry, bc he is the best.

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: The temptation is higher than ever, especially when Harry has to watch you dance with his possible future business partner.

PART III. TO ILLICIT THOUGHTS AND ILLICIT TEMPTATION

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

Harry Styles hasn’t felt ashamed in a long time. Probably in long years and he would have never thought that a business trip to his beloved Italy would be the occasion that brings him back this unwanted feeling.

He swam for a torturous thirty minutes after you left, not because he wanted to, but because he was so hard he would have not been able to walk out of the water in front of all these people. Even then, he was still semi-hard, it was enough for him to rush back to his hotel room, but by the time he stood under the shower, his cock was begging for relief again.

This alone was enough to make him feel ashamed, but the three orgasms he needed while thinking about you is what truly pushed him into his shameful pit. Not one, not two, but three times he needed to touch himself before he could get dressed without his cock bursting the seam of his pants.

Standing in front of the mirror he fixes the collar of his black shirt, taking his reflection in. What will you think when you first see him tonight? Will you notice that his hair is different now? Are the sunglasses too much? And what about the earring?

Those are for sure too much. But part of him wants to see your reaction to it, because one time he heard you talking to Jenny from finance during lunch and you mentioned how hot earrings could be on guys.

Fuck, this is bad. He can’t get you out of his mind and it’s not just dirty thoughts anymore.

Reaching for his cologne he squirts some onto his exposed neck and chest, his shirt is open enough to give a glimpse of his necklace, something he has caught you looking at on some occasions before.

He checks the time and sees that it’s six o’clock sharp, so he has to pick you up to make it to the restaurant on time. He rolls his shoulders, slips his phone and wallet into his light colored pants and then walks out of his room, over to your door. Fisting his hand he knocks confidently three times and then waits.

He hears you shuffling around inside and his pulse quickens instantly even though he hasn’t even seen you. But then the door opens and he realizes that he was a whole different man just a second ago.

The moment he lays his eyes on you, it feels like all the air gets knocked right out of his lungs. You have a black dress on, the top is like a corset, pushing your breasts up just enough to plant the most obscene thoughts into his mind that would haunt him not just tonight, but for the rest of his life. There are those thin, almost nonexistent straps running over your shoulders and he can already imagine himself snapping them with his teeth. From underneath the top the silkiest looking fabric runs down your hips, taunting him with what’s hiding underneath and how badly he wants to put his hands�� and mouth on it. The skirt reaches to your mid-thighs, leaving most of your deliciously soft looking legs uncovered and his thoughts immediately snap to an image of having them on his shoulders as he—“

“Earring,” he hears you say, eyes focused on the dangling cross hanging from his left ear. He catches your chest rising heavily and he doesn’t miss the way you run your tongue over your lips.

“Too much?” he asks with a smug smirk. You shake your head. He offers you his arm and you hesitantly, but lock a hand around his bicep as you pull the door closed behind you. This one touch sends a shiver down your spine and Harry feels a fire igniting inside of him.

Walking towards the elevator you both think about the same thing. You’re fucked.

Fabio and Vittore knows all the best places, so you never doubted they would choose the right one for tonight’s outing as well. The place is called GINO’s, during the day it’s a fancy restaurant and then after about nine in the evening it transforms into a bar that has a dance floor as well. It’s classy, tasty and probably way too expensive for your budget, but you’re not paying tonight.

One drink follows the other after dinner, the four of you are having a blast and with the Trevisani brothers present the gut wrenching desire you’ve been fighting is somewhat easier to contain. Harry still looks fucking delicious with his open shirt and dangling earring, but it would be way harder if it was just the two of you.

You were afraid of what it would be like to face Harry after what happened on the beach. How could one go on after what you experienced? But it seems like Harry has forgot about it, because not even the slightest sign of discomfort could be seen on him all evening.

What’s more, he’s been giving you looks that get you flustered, it doesn’t seem like Harry found what happened earlier awkward at all, his darkened eyes often wander to your dress and he watches your every move, always making sure you have everything you need.

The music is in full blast by 10 pm, people are dancing in front of the DJ’s setup, the lights have been dimmed and there’s alcohol everywhere.

Fabio Trevisani is exactly how you imagine a true Italian man. He is in his thirties, thick, dark hair and beard, golden skin and nice charm, he has them all. He’s never scared to bring some flirting into his words, he has definitely given you a few hints that he finds you appealing, but you’ve been just ignoring these. He is a handsome man, but not the one you truly want these days.

Tonight, thanks to all the drinks, you feel a lot looser and open to Fabio’s flirting, for some reason. With Harry on your left and Fabio on your right, your attention is torn between the two directions, but while Harry is more quiet and reserved, Fabio likes to take the lead and keep you entertained, making you laugh with his jokes and getting you flustered by his compliments.

“Amore mio, vieni a ballare con mi!” Fabio begs you, taking one of your hands. You notice Harry stiffening beside you, but all you can do is laugh in confusion, since you have no idea what Fabio just said.

“What?”

“Dance with me!” he translates his request, already standing up, tugging you towards the dance floor. You don’t have much chance to protest, you find yourself standing from your seat and following him into the dancing crowd.

Somehow it’s no surprise that Fabio is a great dancer. With all the booze in your system, you can’t help but laugh as he keeps twirling you around, pulling you against him, dipping you back, he does all the moves he knows.

He keeps flirting with you, though half the time he is talking in Italian, it’s more like funny than hot for you right now, you’re just enjoying the moment.

That is right until you spot a pair of familiar green eyes that appear more like black as Harry approaches the two of you through the dancing people.

Your stomach drops to the floor as he moves towards you like a hungry tiger, but you manage to keep moving to the music, Fabio dancing right behind you with his hands on your waist. When Harry finally reaches you, he leans to Fabio’s ear and you wish you could hear what he says to him, because a second later Fabio’s hands slip off your waist and you catch him nodding at Harry before he leans over to you.

“Thanks for the dance,” he says, trying to talk over the music. You don’t even get to reply, the crowd swallows him and you’re left there.

With Harry.

When you turn around you find him standing there, his eyes practically swallowing you up whole. He steps closer, hands finding your waist and with one swift movement he turns you around, pulling your back against his chest and you can’t help but gasp when your ass meets his groin, for the second time in a day.

Everyone around you is moving to the rhythm while the two of you are standing still, only Harry’s hands moving from your hips to your stomach and even through the corset you can feel his fingers digging into your flesh.

“Did you enjoy dancing with him?”

His mouth is right next to your ear and you swear you could feel his lips brushing against the shell of your ear as he talked.

“Yes,” you breathe out, but you couldn’t even recall a memory of Fabio’s dancing even if your life depended on it. Not when your body is melting against Harry’s hard chest and you can feel every bit of warmth that radiates from him. When you feel his nose bury into your hair and his hands slip just a tad bit lower on your body, you lose control and let your head roll back to his shoulder.

“Do you want me to bring him back so you can keep dancing with him?”

His hips start to move finally and he makes you move with him, all while your chest is rising and falling heavily, giving him the best view of your cleavage from above, he can’t tear his eyes off the way your breasts curve so deliciously, how your soft, exposed skin shimmers from the thin layer of sweat, he wants to lick you up from where your top starts up to your jaw. He is dying to taste you, your skin, your lips, your pleasure…

You shake your head at his question, your hands snapping to his hands on you, covering them with a desperate urge to keep them planted on your body. Not that Harry ever plans to take his hands off you.

“Do you want me to stay here with you, Y/N?” he asks, his nose running down the side of your neck as he breathes in your sweet scent.

“Yes!” you gasp, when his hips move forward and once again, you can feel his hardening cock pressing into your ass.

He groans behind you when you push back against him more, his cock throbbing already and he can only hope no one will interrupt this moment. You’re swaying to the music, your head is still resting on his shoulder and maybe it’s the booze or maybe it’s just your uncontrollable desire for him, but your courage bursts and as you hold his right hand you tug it up on your body, over your stomach and then your chest, you feel his shaky breath on your heated skin and his fingers hook into the top of your corset. If he wanted to, he could just tug it down and bare you in front of his greedy eyes, but he is way too possessive, if another man laid eyes on what he thinks of as his, Hell would break loose and Harry would be probably thrown out of here.

So instead, he just enjoys that tiny inch of extra skin that he can feel underneath the top of your dress and he gives in to the temptation and presses his lips to your neck, his tongue meeting your skin, finally tasting you.

“Fuck,” you moan at the sensation and your other hand flies back, fingers dipping into his hair and you give him a rough tug that earns you a bite from him.

Harry is seeing red. His hands grab onto your hips and twirls you around confidently, arms locking around you so tight not even a pin could fit between the two of you. Your wandering hands run up his biceps, over his shoulders, arriving to the base if his neck and you comb your fingers through his hair from the nape of his neck, grinning wide when you feel his chest vibrating against yours from the groan that escapes his mouth.

He leans back, just enough to press his forehead against yours and you know he is fighting his last restraints, this is the moment that will decide it all, if you go further or step back behind the safety of your boundaries. You’re ready to give in, you were always ready, so it’s fully just on Harry.

And right when you think it’s going to happen someone bumps into you from behind and it’s like the bubble has been popped. Harry helps to steady you, but when you look into his eyes you can tell he has pulled back.

Disappointment washes over you as you move back, putting a bit of distance between the two of you. It looks like his mind is racing and you’d die to actually know what he’s thinking about, but he remains silent and you’re back to square one.

The rest of the evening goes by in a blur. At one point you go back to the table, have another drink and you listen to the men talking while you keep just reliving the moments with Harry on the dance floor.

Harry appears to be confident and over what happened, but in his head he is screaming. Mostly at himself for not giving in, the temptation was painfully cruel, he was so close to snapping and taking what he’s been fantasizing about for so long, but when you got pushed it was like his consciousness were awakened and he realized that he was playing a dangerous game.

He truly thought he made the right decision when you moved back to the table, but when he saw you so zoned out and the disappointment on your face was obvious, he wished he could go back in time and do the opposite.

It was past one when you left the place and parted ways with Fabio and Vittore, heading back to your hotel that was only a ten minute walk. Now you’re walking side by side and the silence is deafening.

Still drunk on the alcohol and the scene with Harry, you get into the elevator with a pouty look that doesn’t fly over Harry. He is staring at you as the elevator moves up and the tension rises in a blink of an eye, for a second you think he’ll break now, but then the elevator stops with a soft ding! and you walk out with a new wave of disappointment. Because if he didn’t give in before, there’s no way he will now.

You reach your room and swiping the keycard you open the door. You step inside and turn around, seeing him standing there with his hand hidden in his pockets as he stares back at you with an unreadable look.

“Well, good night, Harry,” you breathe out and he nods at you in reply, there’s a second long pause before you move to close the door.

Right when the lock is about to click closed, Harry snaps a hand against it and pushes open again. You suck on your breath as the door flies back and it reveals him, his darkened gaze practically lighting you on fire. There’s half a second of hesitation, it’s like in the elevator, but this time it ends up completely different.

It happens so fast, yet your body reacts instantly. Harry moves inside with one swift movement, he grabs you by your face and kisses you so hard you forget your name, your past and present. Everything is gone, it’s just you and him.

Harry pushes you against the wall and kicks the door closed, all while his mouth devours yours, making up for all the times he chose not to. He licks into your mouth, hips pressing forward to show you just how hard he is already and you can only hope this time you’ll get to feel him inside you.

You move further into the room, bumping into the bathroom door, a chair and then you end up pressed against the desk, your legs open, welcoming him between them. You take just one moment to breathe and you’re about to pull him back, but he stops and you’re afraid he’ll end this dream way too soon.

“Y/N, I want your consent,” he rasps out, breathing heavily.

“You have it, you have anything you want!” you beg him, clawing at his chest, trying to pull him back onto you, but he is still resisting.

“No. I want you to say it loud and clear that you want this, that you want me. I can’t… I can’t have you wake up and freak out about what we’re about to do.”

Fuck, he is so insanely hot even when he is asking for your consent like the gentleman that he is. He knows that you’ve drunk and he would never take advantage of you. The drunken buzz has cleared out of your mind mostly, the walk home did wonders and you can answer him confidently with certainty.

“Harry, I want you. I wanted you before and I will want you in the morning. You have my consent.”

He draws in a deep breath with his eyes closed and when he exhales, his gaze finally finds yours and you know there’s no going back from now.

He throws himself at you as if he’s been starving for months, his mouth attacks your lips, he bites and sucks while his hands work to push the silky skirt up, revealing more of your legs. With his hands he urges you to wrap them around his waist and when you do that, he lifts you up with ease, moving over to the bed and throwing you onto the mattress, following you instantly, the weight of his body pinning you down. He buries his face into your neck, licking his way down to your chest and then he finally makes his fantasy reality when he takes the strap of your dress between his teeth and pulls on it just hard enough to make the string snap. A surprised gasp slips through your lips and then you can’t help but chuckle when he snaps the other one as well.

“Insane. You’re making me insane, Y/N,” he groans against your chest, his hands desperately trying to rid you of the dress, but it’s a bit tricky.

Pushing on his chest you make him kneel up and you follow him, turning around you show him the row of clasps in the back. He unhooks them in two rounds, the corset becomes loose around you, allowing it to fall and pool around your waist. Harry’s arms snake around you from behind, pulling you against his chest, his hands groping your breasts in an instant.

“Oh fuck!” you moan, head rolling back to his shoulder as his mouth kisses along your shoulder and neck, his hands exploring your body relentlessly. Arching your back you push your ass back and it meets his groin, the outline of his cock bursting through his pants. Reaching back you palm him, give him a few squeezes, feeling him up and he involuntarily thrusts into your touch.

Harry releases you just enough so you can get rid of the dress, leaving you only in your lacy thong, while he is still fully dressed, so you take over control for a bit and turning around you snap his shirt open, buttons flying around the room. You surprised not just Harry with this but yourself as well, but you don’t dwell on it long, while Harry shrugs his shirt off you work on his pants and moments later he is sitting on the mattress in front of you in only his underwear. You climb over to him, mouth finding his as you settle on his lap and he moves forward, laying you onto the mattress, his hips pushing against yours and you can’t stop yourself from grinding against his bulge.

“Oh God,” he breathes out and matching your movements he starts thrusting forward as well.

Reaching down his hand slips under the lacy fabric and he cups your wet and heated crotch, his palm pressing against your clit just right.

“Fuck, you are so wet. All for me?”

“Yes! Harry, please!”

“Please what?” he asks against your lips, his hand teasing you between your legs.

“More! I need more!”

You catch a pleased smirk on his lips before he pushes two fingers into you, making you gasp for air when they curl inside you and then move out, just to do it over and over again. His palm is drenched already and it feels like you’ve been drugged when the heel of his palm presses against your clit with just the right amount of pressure.

In the meantime his clothed cock is now rubbing against your thigh, he is seeking relief too as he keeps grinding against your, looking for any kind of friction.

“Harry, I need… I want your cock, please!” you beg, barely able to form words.

“Patience, I want to taste you first.”

“No, I need you to fuck me already!”

“Just one taste, baby, I’ll be quick,” he promises as he pulls his hand out from between your legs and sitting back onto his heels he drags your thong down your legs, throwing it across the room before pushing your knees apart, taking one quick look at you all spread out in front of him before he leans forward and latches onto your clit with no mercy.

He keeps his word and doesn’t spend too much time with his face buried between your legs, but he makes the most of it, licking and sucking, fucking you with his tongue. When he comes back up and kisses you and you can taste yourself on him.

You work together to rid him of his last item of clothing and when you see his cock spring free from its restraints your mind blanks and all you can think about is choking on his dick. Harry doesn’t protest when you sit up and then settle so you can kiss the leaking tip while you wrap a hand around the base. The sounds he makes when you take him into your mouth are proof that you’re doing it right. Each time you go down you try to move lower and lower, taking as much of him into your mouth as you can, your eyes are watering and your spit is dripping down his cock, but it’s exactly what he wants, to see you struggle, because he is so big but you’re just so eager to please him. He cradles the back of your head and when you’re down one time he gives your head a gentle push, just enough to reach your limit, he can feel you gagging and he keeps you there just one second longer than you would have stayed on your own before letting you come up for air. When he sees your face, your teary eyes, puffy lips and glistening chin he pulls you in by your neck and kisses you rough, pushing you back onto the bed so he can get on top of you without clothes this time. He groans when you reach down and wrap your hands around him, teasing him some more.

“Condom?” he asks and your first reaction is a disapproving cry.

“Wanna feel you.”

“Are you on the pill, baby?” he asks, a moan slipping through his lips when you move his cock so the head pokes at your clit.

“Yes. Please!”

Normally there’s no way he would have sex without a condom, but he is just as desperate to feel you fully as you are so he lets himself have it this one time.

With one last kiss he sits back onto his heels and hooks his arms under your legs, pulling them up, onto his shoulders like he has imagined it so many times before. Kissing the inside of your ankle he grabs his cock with a steady hand and positions himself before slowly pushing in, his dick filling you up, stretching you out perfectly until all of him is inside you.

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans stilling, closing his eyes for a moment before he looks down at you. There’s endless passion in his gaze, but there’s something soft too. Before you could figure it out he starts moving and you lose the ability to form coherent thoughts.

At first he starts off kinda slow, but as he can feel you getting used to his size he starts to pick up his pace and soon enough, he is pounding into you. It’s sloppy and rough at the same time, you’ve turned into goo and he is the one holding you together. Soon he switches the position up and comes down on top of you, your feet hooking behind him, allowing him to go even deeper.

He keeps kissing you, praising you, telling you how good you are in every possible way.

“My good girl, taking me so well.”

“You were made for me, Y/N, you feel so fucking good.”

“Look at that pussy, gripping my cock tight and delicious.”

Every time he speaks up you can only just moan in reply and tighten your hold around him.

When he pulls back you cry out in protest, but he just chuckles, helping you up and onto all four, his hands circling your ass cheeks, fingers digging into the flesh before his cock finally pushes into you from behind. You try your best to match his rhythm, but he is definitely doing all the moving, you can barely hold yourself up at this point. When Harry notices how much you’re struggling he hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you up so you can lean back onto his chest, giving your arms a break as he fucks into you. You wiggle around for a bit until you can turn your head enough to lock your lips with his.

“Harry, I’m so close,” you moan into his mouth and it just makes him go even harder and adding to the sensation one of his hands move to your clit and you’re convinced he is trying to kill you.

“Come for me, baby. I want to feel you come on my cock,” he pants.

His words push you over the edge and you come, hard and loud, tightening your walls around him, which tips him over as well. He pulls out just in time, his cum squirting onto your folds and lower stomach while his orgasm washes over him in waves.

With your hands on his thighs you let your head fall forward, trying to catch your breath and Harry kisses you between your shoulder blades, pretty much doing the same. When he moves back you lean forward until you can put your arms down onto the mattress. You hear him walk into the bathroom and soon he returns with a damp towel, gently cleaning you up so you can finally flop onto the bed comfortably.

He throws the towel to the side and lies next to you, in all of his naked glory and though you feel like you have no energy left, you just want to stay awake for as long as possible and drink in the sight of Harry Styles in your bed.

“We should talk about it,” he murmurs softly as he reaches out and runs his hand down the side of your face.

“I know,” you agree.

“In the morning,” he adds and you nod. He then pulls you closer, into his arms and you happily curl up against his side as he pulls the covers over the two of you. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head and you fall asleep listening to his steady breathing.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

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yikes-aemond · 3 months ago

Text

I love you. It's ruining my life. (Part IV)

pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Bracken!fem!reader (no descriptions of reader except that she wears dresses and has long hair)

warnings: canon typical violence, cursing, death

summary: You and Benjicot Blackwood plan for the future. Things don’t quite go as planned.

word count: 5.1k

author note: Thank you all so much for your patience! I will not lie—this part was a struggle to write. I think I rewrote it at least three times, and I am still not sure if I’m absolutely satisfied. Fair warning, I’m putting our lovebirds through the ringer, but do not worry—I’m a girl who loves a happily ever after. Also, no smut in this part, but stick around for part five. Happy reading!

part i can be found here, part ii here, and part iii here.

“Have you lost your mind?”

You could not have heard him correctly. Surely Benjicot Blackwood had not just asked you to marry him, while you were half naked.

You hurried to adjust your dress and cover yourself in a desperate attempt to establish some sense of dignity and propriety in this moment. Had you not been overwhelmed by the day, had you not been so taken off guard, you might have responded a little more kindly to a proposal from your beloved.

Benjicot laughed as he watched you try to gather your wits about you. He followed your direction, adjusting his breaches so that everything was tucked back into its proper place.

Once you were both decent, Benjicot reiterated, “I am quite serious. We should marry this evening.”

You shook your head, mind racing as you tried to comprehend what he was saying, what he was asking. For years, you had watched Benjicot from afar. Watched the way he grew into a man, into someone that people feared and respected in equal measure. Being with Benjicot was always your dream. The one you had tucked away in your heart for years, never to see the light of day should you dare to do the most dangerous thing in all of Westeros—hope.

And now he was asking you to marry him. You felt unbalanced, unsteady. Your head and your heart were at war.

You managed to get off the bed. Needing a moment to collect yourself, you put some distance between you and Benjicot and moved back across the room to the fireplace.

When you turned back to Benjicot, you saw that he had not moved. His eyes were fixed on you, that predatory gaze locked onto your form, waiting for your response.

That look in his eyes never failed to make you squirm. The weight of that stare made you think he could hear every thought in your head, all your secrets and dreams.

You sighed, breaking eye contact and said, “You know that our families will never allow it.”

Benjicot stood then, and slowly stalked toward you. With each step, you felt your heartbeat pound louder against your chest. You had thought that the longer you spent in his presence, the more you would become used to him. But you could not deny the effect Benjicot had on you, on your body.

Benjicot took your hands in his, and pulled you against him. Placing your hands on his chest, he rubbed his thumbs over the scrapes you had gotten earlier in the woods. Had that only been this morning? Time seemed to hold no meaning in this room. A prison that now felt like a sanctuary.

“That is why we must marry tonight.” Benjicot smiled, and then placed a kiss on your brow. “By the time they find out, it will be too late.”

You pulled back, just enough so that you could look at his face. “And do your really expect your father and Black Aly to welcome me into the family with open arms?”

Benjicot was still smiling, still so sure of his plan. “They will once they see how happy we are. How much we love each other.” He shrugged before continuing, “And we would not be the first Blackwoods and Brackens to marry. Others have done it in the name of peace.”

“But our families do not seek peace now!” You practically shouted, frustration coloring your tone. “We are on the brink of war, and our families stand on opposite sides.”

You tried pulling away, but Benjicot tightened his arms around you, stilling your struggle. Whatever good humor Benjicot had was slowly leaching from his features. “You know as well as I do that Queen Rhaenyra is the rightful ruler of the Seven Kingdoms.”

You closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.“Of course I agree with you, but that does not change the fact that my father will disown me if we do this. I will never be able to return home.”

Benjicot pressed another kiss to your temple and whispered against your skin,“Would that be such an awful thing?”

You felt your heart jerk at his question. The idea of never seeing your family again, of never being welcomed home, of never eating your cook’s fruit pies or riding through the moorlands outside of Stone Hedge on a misty morning, or gods never visiting your mother’s gravestone, was enough to send a wave of nausea through you.

You hid your face against his chest. “My father was not always the most loving, but he is my father. For all the faults you may find with him, he has never been cruel to me.”

Benjicot felt the shift in your mood, could practically feel the sadness and desperation radiate from the points where you touched. He knew the sacrifice he was asking you to make was no small thing. He rubbed his hands up and down your arms, trying to comfort the turmoil within you.

You could not stop the tears even if you wanted to. You did not wail, did not scream at the unfairness of your situation, did not rail against the old gods and the new for cursing your families and subjecting them to an endless blood feud. For what else could this ancient, hateful grudge between the Blackwoods and Brackens be except for a curse?

Even if you could convince your father to bless a marriage between you and Benjicot, any children between you would be enlisted to the war. Generations of prejudice had proven that. It was no matter that the Bracken or Blackwood on the other side would be a cousin. No matter that no one could remember how the hatred between your two families even began. No matter how senseless the bloodshed would be.

This was your and Benjicot’s world. You could not run from the truth of your situation, could not hide from your fates. Not if you wanted your love to withstand.

And even though the thought of never going back to Stone Hedge was devastating, the thought of never seeing Benjicot again was unthinkable. Never hearing his voice or his laugh. Never seeing his smiles. Never having him hold you in his arms. You could not bear the separation, not after having a taste of what your life could be like together.

Your tears slowed and your breathing evened out. Whatever doubts that had plagued your mind were banished. Resolution steeled your spine. You took a fortifying breath and lifted your head from Benjicot’s chest. With a watery smile on your face, you said, “I accept your proposal, Benjicot Blackwood.”

Benjicot’s joy was infectious. Smiling wide and bright, he lifted you into his arms and kissed you with such a reverence that left your breathless. Gods, you loved this man. Wanted him again and could not imagine ever being parted from him. The very thought of being separated was enough to send a panic through you.

You wrapped your arms around Benjicot’s neck and tangled your hands in his hair, your tongue in his mouth. You felt his joy in that kiss. And you let that joy into your heart. Let it fill and warm you. In this moment, you allowed yourself to be happy.

The impossible dream was becoming a reality.

When Benjicot had proposed, he did not have an actual plan. He did not have any rings or a marriage cloak. As a Blackwood, he preferred to have a ceremony before the old gods in front of the ancient, colossal weirwood tree in the godswood.

Because there were no clergy associated with the old gods, the current Lord Blackwood usually performed marriage ceremonies at Raventree Hall. But seeing as his father would likely oppose the marriage, that left Benjicot with few options. With a little convincing, or in Benjicot’s case, a little threat of bodily harm, the maester finally agreed to perform the ceremony.

You could not stop smiling as Benjicot snuck you out of your rooms. With each passing hallway and corridor, you felt your excitement grow. You could barely contain your glee as you clung to each other, arms linked and hands intertwined, as you made your way into the godswood.

The maester stood before the weirwood tree, with only the moonlight and a few lanterns to light the way. Hundreds of ravens were to be your witnesses. On any other night, feeling the weight of all those eyes watching you might have felt unsettling. But nothing could spoil this moment, nothing could come between you and Benjicot—

“What in the Seven Hells do you think you’re doing?”

Every muscle in your body tensed. Panic settled in your chest, and you felt your stomach drop.

Black Aly stood at the edge of the godswood, her bow and arrow knocked and poised to strike.

You felt the world shift. One moment you were standing beside Benjicot, and the next, Benjicot stood in between you and Aly, putting himself in the way of the arrow that had been aimed at your chest.

“Lower the bow, Aly.” Benjicot’s voice was hard and low. You watched as he moved his hand to the hilt of his dagger, ready to draw the blade at any moment.

Even from a distance, you could see Aly roll her eyes at Benjicot’s actions, but she did not lower her bow. “Do not overwork yourself, nephew.”

You grabbed the back of Benjicot’s cloak, pulling slightly as if to hold him back. You glanced wearily back and forth between the Blackwoods. Two warriors preparing to battle. The last thing you wanted was for there to be violence. For surely a duel between Bloody Ben and Black Aly would be a fight for the ages.

Benjicot’s body was tense as yours. He did not truly believe that Aly would hurt you. Aly was tough but fair, and underneath her brash attitude and hostility, she had a gentle heart. But he would not risk you. Would not allow anyone to threaten or harm you. Not when he had the ability to protect you.

Benjicot pulled out his dagger. “Put the bow away, Aly. I will not ask again.”

You wanted to step in between them like you had done in the fight with Aeron. But this situation was different. This was two Blackwood who were taking the measure of each other, testing how far the other was willing to go. You could not intervene, even if the sight of an arrow pointed at Benjicot was enough to send your blood running cold.

After what felt like hours, Aly lowered her bow. Sighing, she returned the arrow to her quiver. Only then did Benjicot sheath his dagger.

“You sure have a flare for the dramatics, nephew.”

Now it was Benjicot’s turn to roll his eyes. “Says the woman who had an arrow aimed at my betrothed.”

Your heart fluttered at the word.

Aly huffed out a laugh. “Is that what she is to you? Your betrothed? I do not recall your father agreeing to any such arrangement.”

Benjicot remained in front of you, a barrier between you and Aly. “I asked for her hand, and she accepted.”

Aly stood with her hands on her hips, eyes directed toward the heavens. She looked as if she were searching for patience amongst the stars. When she cut her gaze back to Benjicot, you could not miss the look of pity that flashed across her face.

“Benji, you know that you cannot marry her.”

You reached for Benjicot’s hand, needing his touch and warmth to ground you in this moment. Whatever happiness you had felt, whatever joy that you had shared, was now slowly falling through your grasp.

Black Aly would never allow you two to marry. Not like this.

But Benjicot’s stubbornness was no light thing. “I love her, Aly. I will marry her, and you cannot stop me.”

Just as Aly was about to respond, you saw her face pale and expression grow uneasy. And when you heard the voice behind you, you understood why.

“You would be wise to reconsider that position, son.”

If you had thought you felt panic before, that was nothing to the sickening feeling that plagued you now.

Because standing on the opposite side of the godswood, directly across from Aly, was Lord Samwell Blackwood. Benjicot’s father, and your own father’s sworn enemy. And with him stood a dozen Blackwood guards, each looking between you and Benjicot with expressions that ranged from disbelief to disgust.

You had never been formally introduced to Lord Blackwood. He was a rather tall man, with hair as black as a raven’s wing. His close-cropped beard was the same. Like Benjicot, his gaze was enough to send a lesser man cowering. And right now that gaze was cold and enraged and fixed on you and Benjicot.

If Benjicot had not been holding your hand, you would have been trembling. The two of you were trapped.

“Are you so eager to start a war, Benjicot?” Lord Blackwood asked, his tone was like ice. “For some Bracken wench?”

You felt Benjicot’s hand tighten around yours, almost to the point of pain. One glance at Benjicot told you that he was furious. His glare held that feral edge, and he was close to snarling. Bloody Ben was backed into a corner, and he looked itching for a fight. Even if that fight was against his own father.

“You will mind how you speak about my lady, father.” Had you not been so fearful for your life and his, you would have thought that declaration rather romantic.

Lord Blackwood did not look impressed. “Do you have any idea what kind of trouble you and your lady have brought to our door, Benjicot?”

“We wish to marry, father.” Benjicot glanced at you as he said, “We love each other.”

A long suffering sigh escaped from Lord Blackwood as he motioned for his men to stand down. “That does not change the fact that she is a Bracken. You cannot simply marry her without expecting there to be consequences.”

“I am prepared to accept any consequence if it means we can be together.” The surety in Benjicot’s tone was enough to ease the fear that had gripped you since you had been discovered. You could help but give him a small smile.

A smile that Lord Blackwood did not miss. “And you, Lady Bracken?” Lord Blackwood sneered. “Are you prepared to face the consequences of this marriage? Your father will seek retribution for this little act of rebellion. Are you prepared to have blood on your hands?”

Now you were the one who squeezed Benjicot’s hand. Lord Blackwood terrified you, and so did his words. You did not wish to be the cause of another fight between the Blackwoods and the Brackens, did not want to send anyone to their death because you fell in love with someone who was never meant to be yours.

Benjicot nudged his shoulder against yours, offering you what strength he could. With him standing at your side, you found the courage to meet Lord Blackwood’s gaze. “Whatever trials and tribulations may come our way, Lord Blackwood, I am prepared to meet them with Benjicot as my lord husband.”

Even without looking at him, you could feel Benjicot’s eyes on you as you held your own against his father. Could feel how proud he was of you for defending your future together.

Taking another breathe, you could not help but add, “You speak of my hands becoming bloody, but I could not think of anything more fitting for a woman betrothed to Bloody Ben Blackwood.”

The silence in the godswood was deafening.

Every person and creature seemed to be holding their breath for Lord Blackwood’s response. You did not dare break eye contact with him, determined to hold your ground and prove yourself worthy of being Benjicot’s wife.

Lord Blackwood finally moved his gaze from you and back to Benjicot. “We will treat with Lord Bracken tomorrow. Offer him a parley. You will ask his permission to marry his daughter. You will accept his decision, no matter what he says.”

“Father! You know he will not—”

But Lord Blackwood had heard enough. Holding up his hand, he demanded silence. “Those are my terms, Benjicot. Be grateful I am allowing this much.”

A weariness had settled over Lord Blackwood’s features. Although he was still a man in his prime, in that moment, he looked aged and tired. As he turned to leave the godswood, he said, “We stand on the brink of war. The Targaryens are at each other’s throats since King Viserys passed. Soon House Blackwood will be asked to choose a side, and you have allowed your foolish heart to guide your choices.”

You could tell Benjicot wanted to protest, wanted to push back on his father’s orders. He knew as well as you did that convincing your father to allow the two of you to marry was going to take an act of the gods.

And even though Benjicot knew when to pick his battles, knew when he had lost a fight, he could not help but have the last word. “There are worse things to be guided by than one’s heart, father.”

Benjicot’s words gave Lord Blackwood pause. For a moment, you thought he might respond, might reprimand Benjicot for his lack of respect. Only when Lord Blackwood continued walking out of the godswood did you feel like you could breathe again.

The Blackwood guards followed their ledge lord, leaving you, Benjicot, and Aly in the presence of the ravens. You could have collapsed from exhaustion. You felt wrung out from the day. Too much had happened in such a short period of time, and your body was protesting.

Aly approached and stopped just short of you and Benjicot. “Well, that did not quite go as I expected.”

Benjicot rounded on Aly, and with animosity in his voice, he asked, “Why did you stop us?”

Aly stared at Benjicot like he had grown a second head. “We’re trying to prevent a war, Benji. Had the two of you married, Bracken would have shown up here with a thousand men seeking your head. You might love each other, but is that love really worth the lives of hundreds? Thousands?”

“You are overreacting—”

Aly shoved at Benjicot’s chest. “And you are being an idiot! Use your head, Benji. If you had married in secret, the Brackens would have stopped at nothing to avenge that insult. You know that, even if you are too blind to see it.”

With a softer tone, Aly continued, “Be grateful your father is supporting you in this. He could have just as easily returned her to Stone Hedge. You have a chance.”

Benjicot scoffed. “A chance? Do you really believe—”

“Enough.” You cut Benjicot off before he could say another word. You took his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you. “My father may hate Blackwoods, but he is not unreasonable. We will convince him.”

You could tell that Benjicot was struggling to control his temper. He was still running hot from the confrontation with Aly and his father. Bloody Ben was lingering too close to the surface. You pulled his face toward yours and pressed a kiss to his lips. Nothing more than a gentle peck, but enough to distract him.

When you pulled back, you could see that some of the edge had worn off. Benjicot’s face was calmer, less hostile. “I love you, Benjicot Blackwood. I do not plan to give you up without a fight.”

Benjicot smiled at your words, the soft smile he reserved just for you. He wrapped his arms around you, tucking you under his chin. “My brave girl. I pity any man who would dare cross you.”

You held each other for a moment before Aly cleared her throat. “If you two are finished, I’m going to escort little Bracken back to her rooms.”

With a quick kiss to your head, Benjicot released you and said, “Sleep well, my lady.”

You did not want to leave Benjicot, but you knew there was no way Aly was going to let you stay with each other. As you followed her out of the godswood, you could not help but take one last look at Benjicot.

You nearly stumbled when you saw him. Beneath the ancient weirwood tree, bathed in moonlight and surrounded by ravens, stood Benjicot. His head bowed as if in prayer.

You did not have to guess what he was praying about. You only hoped that the old gods were listening.

The only neutral territory acceptable to both the Blackwoods and the Brackens were the boundary stones near the old windmill. The day was overcast and cold, with the wind tearing through the cloak Aly had lent you.

Aly had not left your side since collecting you from your rooms that morning. You and Benjicot had been kept separated for the entire journey. You had asked for him, begged Aly to allow you two a moment alone, but she had refused. Lord Blackwood was keeping both she and Benjicot on a tight leash until this matter was settled.

To say you were nervous was an understatement. You had tossed and turned the entire night, too anxious to close your eyes for fear of what your dreams may hold. You might have been confident with Benjicot the night before, but in truth, you had no idea how to convince your father to allow you to marry.

The Brackens had arrived first.

A host of about fifty men had gathered on their side of the boundary stones. A sea of red and gold with a few horses scattered in the mix. You did not miss how all the men were armed with swords at the ready.

And in the front, seated atop his favorite war horse and adorned in battle leathers, was Amos Bracken. Your father.

Amos Bracken was not as tall or built as Samwell Blackwood, but you knew your father to be a proficient swordsmen and respected fighter in his own right. You had no doubt that should this come to blows, he would hold his own.

Aeron stood beside him. A united front against their perceived enemies. And while your father’s face was blank of all emotions, calm and controlled, Aeron’s disdain for the Blackwoods was clear for all to see.

The Blackwood host equalled that of the Brackens’. You had ridden to the neutral ground on the back of Aly’s horse. You had tried to spot Benjicot all morning, but there were too many men, too much chaos. The closer you got to the boundary stones, the more you felt Aly tense in front of you.

When you finally stopped, Aly directed you to the front of the vanguard. She had drawn her bow the moment your feet hit the ground.

Your first sight of Benjicot sent your heart thumping. His dark hair was mussed, as if he had run his hand through it multiple times. But that was the only sign that Benjicot felt uneasy. His posture was relaxed, and his mouth was fixed in a smirk, like this meeting was an every day occurrence. He showed no fear.

Aly stopped you slightly behind and to the right of Benjicot. You saw the moment when your father and Aeron spotted you. Your father’s eyes narrowed slightly, and Aeron’s face twisted into a mix of shock and disbelief.

You swallowed down the fear and anxiety. Swallowed down the nausea that threatened to upend your breakfast. Swallowed down any uncertainty you felt. You had to present a strong front to your father and his men. Otherwise, they would pounce on any hesitation and demand that you be returned home.

Lord Blackwood broke the silence first. “Amos. A pleasure as always.”

“Cut the shit, Blackwood,” Lord Bracken snarled, “and return my daughter to me.”

The words were not unexpected. You tensed as Aeron shifted his hand to the sword at his side, stomach twisting as he gripped the hilt.

You exhaled a long breath and fixed your gaze on your father. “I am well, father. The Blackwoods have treated me kindly.”

Lord Bracken’s face darkened, and you instantly regretted speaking. “I do not want to hear a single word from you.”

Your cheeks flamed at the dismissal, but you refused to lower your eyes. Refused to cower before your family. “Then I am sorry to disappoint you, father.”

“You insubordinate, ungrateful—”

“Lord Bracken,” Benjicot interjected, stopping your father from insulting you further. “I am here to ask for your daughter’s hand in marriage.”

You did not so much as breathe as you waited for your father to respond.

And waited.

The longer you waited, the more panic seeped into your veins. But when your father finally responded, you wished that he had not.

With a sneer on his face, your father glared at Benjicot when he said, “I would sooner feed my daughter to one of those Targaryen dragons before marrying her to some Blackwood cunt.”

You had felt like someone had knocked the air from your lungs. You had never seen such hatred on your father’s face. Had never heard his voice sound so cold and cruel. You knew that he hated the Blackwoods, but to sentence you to death rather than let you marry?

You looked at your father like he was a stranger.

You heard angry shouts and curses behind you from the Blackwood host. Felt that the bloodlust in the air had upped a notch.

Lord Blackwood held up a hand to silence his men. “Careful, Bracken.”

“My daughter was taken by your son. Subjected to gods knows what. I will not be careful, Blackwood.”

“That’s not true, father!” You shouted, launching yourself to stand before your father. You had to find some way to convince him, some way to get him to listen. “Benjicot and I are in love. Please, just listen to us.”

Your father scoffed. “Love? Between a Bracken and a Blackwood? Do not make me laugh.”

The Bracken host jeered at your father’s word, laughing and snickering at the very idea of you and Benjicot being together. You even heard a man call out, “Blackwood whore!”

You did not see Benjicot move. Did not see him reach for the dagger at his hip. Did not see him launch the blade into the air.

But you could not miss the dagger embedding itself into the man’s throat. Could not miss the splattering of blood or the final wheeze of breath the man took before falling to the ground. Dead in the blink of an eye.

A scream tore from your throat. You whipped around to look at Benjicot and found Bloody Ben instead. His eyes held that crazed, feral look, but there was no smirk.

Every Blackwood and Bracken standing in that field un-sheathed their weapons.

“You may insult me all you wish, Bracken!” Benjicot called out, moving forward. “Call me a cunt. Call me craven. I do not care.” He stopped next to you and took your hand. "But I will cut down any man who dares to say such vile insults to my lady. Of that, I promise you.”

Your father did not look pleased by that declaration. If anything, he looked more enraged than before. “You violate the terms of this parley, Blackwood. You have spilled Bracken blood. I have the right to demand your head. But I will settle for the return of my daughter. Now.”

You were close to tears. Nothing you or Benjicot said moved your father. He was determined to hold onto his hatred, to see the Blackwoods in the worst possible light. But you could not give up—you had to try.

“Father, please,” your voice broke at the words, “I know that the feud between our families has lasted for a millennium. I know that the thought of a Blackwood and Bracken being together, of loving one another, is inconceivable to you. I know that this is not the life you wished for me. But I have lovedBenjicot since I was a girl.” You took a quick glance at Benjicot to give you strength. “And he loves me. I humbly ask you to grant our union.”

Your father refused to look at you. Refused to acknowledge your words or pleas. You clutched Benjicot’s hand tighter. For you knew what was coming. Knew that your father was about to crush whatever hope you still held onto.

Ignoring you and Benjicot as if you were insignificant, he directed his words to Lord Blackwood, “I do not give my blessing to this marriage. Return my daughter to me or we will have war.”

Your vision swam and your ears began ringing. Somewhere in the distance you heard Lord Blackwood sigh and give the command. Your hand was ripped from Benjicot’s, by whom you did not know. You felt as if the entire world had spun off its axis. How had everything gone so wrong?

One moment, you were standing next to Benjicot, his warm hand against yours, and then in the blink of an eye, you were on the other side of the boundary stones, with Aeron leading you away.

You felt as if you were disconnected from your body. Aeron’s arms were around you, guiding you. You were vaguely aware that he was trying to say something, speak to you about what had happened. But you felt nothing. Heard nothing. A numbness had settled over you.

Only when you heard Benjicot call out your name did you snap.

You shoved against Aeron, tried to run back across the boundary stones to Blackwood land, back to your love, but Aeron held firm. You struggled against him, screaming and hitting and kicking, but your strength was no match for his.

You looked across the field to see Benjicot being held back by three men. He was snarling and raging, but the men held firm and forced him to his knees. You watched as Aly tried to speak to him, tried to calm him down.

But there was no calming Bloody Ben. Not now. Not when his lady had been taken from him.

When Benjicot saw that you were watching him, saw that you were struggling against your own constraints, he stopped. His eyes were wild and fierce and held the promise of retribution. With laboring breaths Benjicot shouted across the field, “I will come you for you, my lady!” He vowed. “I will always come for you!”

You sobbed at his words. Sobbed for the happiness and hope that you had felt only hours before. Sobbed for the future you might have shared together.

For the second time, you were forced to leave Benjicot behind in this accursed field. Only this time, the heartbreak was so much worse. You had gotten a taste of the impossible dream, gotten so close to getting everything you wanted.

Your dream had become a nightmare.

final author note: I know! I know! We have to suffer before things get better. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Love you babes xx

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kasagia · 5 months ago

Text

Dancing with the devil III

Pairing: Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem! royal!reader Summary: You learn about your friend's terrifying future and promise yourself to somehow help her avoid her terrible fate. Na-Baron and you have a little... argument and a new, intriguing lord appears in society—a man who made a huge impression on you. Everyone is jealous. Warning: kind of royal au!; 18+; violence; blood; Feyd Rautha; death; smut; I listened to High Infidelity and new Gracies Abrams album while writing this one; quote from High Infidelity by Taylor; Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen's Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ Main Masterlist ~•♤♤♤•~ PART II ~•♤♤♤•~ PART IV ~•♤♤♤•~

"Even on Arrakis it's not that hot." You're grumbling, walking with your friend in a group of other ladies. You fan yourself with your white feather fan, trying to cool yourself down a bit, but Giedi Prime's black sun doesn't make it any easier for you.

"I don't know. I've never been there. Or anywhere. It's amazing how Harkonnens can go out all dressed in black and not have a single drop of sweat on their skin."

"Nothing about the Harkonnens is fascinating." You say as you reach the training field. You look for Lord Luwael, but you can't see your almost-fiance anywhere. But your eyes immediately fall on Feyd-Rautha.

It was irritating how quickly you recognised his bald head among the Harkonnens he surrounded himself with. The generals fought with him and each other, putting on quite a show for the ladies passing by. However, the real show began when Na-Baron started fighting with his older brother.

People began to gather, watching the sparring of the two heirs of the Harkonnen legacy. You flinched as Rabban let out an almost animalistic, warlike roar, just like your friend. You glanced in her direction and frowned, seeing her paling as their fight became more and more brutal.

"Y/F/N, are you alright?" Your friend opens her mouth to say something back at your question, but just then Lord Luwael appears next to you and steals all your attention.

"Brutes. They behave like animals. They have no sense of respect for human life and health. I don't want to spread rumours, but I heard that they mutilate... their wives and take pleasure in their pain. This is how they express their love. Sick nation."

You nod, watching the fighting display in front of you. You might think that the Rabban beast, as a scary brother more trained and familiar with fighting, would win against Na-Baron, but this is not the case. The men fight evenly until Count Rabban loses his guard in favour of stronger attacks.

Na-Baron takes advantage of this immediately. Just a few of his dodges are enough for Count Rabban to get irritated. He storms at his younger brother mindlessly, giving Na-Baron a chance to attack. He makes a few tactical moves that require more common sense than strength, and he stabs his brother in the shoulder. Rabban screams as he tries to wriggle out of his brother's blade, and Feyd helps him by kicking him in the back and sending him to his knees. You shiver as he glances at you briefly before turning his attention back to the fight with his brother.

The fight is in full swing when suddenly one of Count Rabban's daggers, instead of hitting his brother, hits one of the Harkonnen soldiers. The man is stabbed in the stomach, his insides spilling out from the sloppily inflicted wound.

It doesn't bother you. In fact, you don't react at all to this act of brutality except for wrinkling your nose as the smell of Harkonnen's black blood and entrails hits you. You feel a chill only when you catch Na-Baron's careful gaze on you.

And then, suddenly, your friend faints next to you at the sight of a dying man.

"Y/F/N!" You scream, catching her before she hits the ground. Lord Luwael helps you lay her down gently, and you fan her, pushing the man away from your unconscious friend as you try to provide her with more air and space.

You're too busy fanning your friend to notice how the crowd shifts its attention to the two of you. Even more so to notice one of the Harkonnens approaching you.

"Step aside." Rabban's voice reaches you as he tries to make his way through the crowd. He stands over you and your friend, watching you carefully before he speaks again. "I will take care of my fiancée." He tells you coldly, suggesting you leave. Your eyes widen as you realise who he's talking about. Your gaze shifts from your friend to the man next to you. Rabban was her fiancé. Poor Y/F/N.

"I am more than capable of taking care of my friend, Count Rabban. Besides, I doubt that the sight and smell of blood will help her recover." You tell him with an equally cold tone of voice, not moving away from your friend's side. You turn your gaze towards her, ignoring Rabban's furious look.

"I said..."

"Thank you for your concern, but I assure you she will be fine in a minute. Today's weather must have overwhelmed her." You interrupt him, giving him an equally determined look, not moving an inch from your spot or reacting to Harkonnen's obvious attempt to intimidate you.

The man moves furiously towards you, but before he can even lay a pinky finger on you, his wrist is caught in a tight grip by his younger brother. The men stared furiously at each other for several moments, challenging each other.

"Rabban. You heard Lady Y/N. Your help is not needed. You should go to a medic to have your wound treated." Na-Baron growls, never taking his stern glare off of him. And as much as you despise the Harkonnen heir, you can't deny that right now you're grateful to him for keeping his brother away from you and Y/F/N.

The older brother gives you one last hostile glare before pushing his brother's hand away from him. He retreats and walks away from you, barking at the crowd of onlookers to disperse.

Na-Baron kneels on the other side of your friend and lifts her a little higher into a sitting position. You notice that she actually starts to take deeper breaths due to the change in position. You sit there next to her for a few minutes before you muster up the courage to speak.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome, little swan." He replies with a small smirk, showing you his array of black teeth. Which, surprisingly, bothers you much less than previously.

You stare at him for a moment, much longer than you would usually allow yourself, and he notices. You lean towards him and, for some reason you can't explain, reach up to wipe the blood from his cheek.

Feyd flinches as your gloved hand touches his skin. He curses the fact that the small, lacy material prevents him from feeling your skin against his.

And he decides to do something with it.

He turns his head, grabs your glove with his teeth, and removes the fabric from your hand. You shiver when you see him put the glove in his pocket before taking your hand in his.

He traces a streak of blood from one of his soldiers with your finger, collecting the blood on your finger. His full lips wrap around your finger, sucking out the black liquid. You bite your lip, feeling his tongue wrap around your fingers as he sucks on it like the most delicious candy. You hold your breath and close your eyes, breaking eye contact with him as you remember how wonderful that tongue felt inside your core.

You only dared to open your eyes when he left your finger alone, and you felt his full lips press against the skin of your hand.

And that was your undoing.

His white irises, under the influence of the Giedi Prime sun, gave way to his black pupils, which were staring at you all the time, like at a sacred image. However, you both knew very well that you were far from saintly. Just like him.

And just when Feyd thinks you're going to lean in to press your lips against his, to be the one to initiate the kiss for the first time, you suddenly pull away from him as if scalded.

Feyd furrows his hairless eyebrows, not knowing what's going on, but everything becomes clear when he hears the hated voice of Lord Luwael.

“I brought some water. And sobering salts from one of the ladies." The man says, walking over to the two of you. You give him a beautiful smile, and Feyd's heart shrinks with jealousy.

He instinctively wants to reach for his sword and plunge it straight into Lord Luwael's heart. But he can't do it because he knows that the moment he kills... the obstacle, Feyd will lose any chance of gaining your favour and heart. And all he wanted was for you to smile at him as beautifully (and more sincerely) as you would at that flea not worthy of your attention.

"Thank you, my lord." Feyd notices the difference in how you thank this man.

You're telling him this because it's appropriate, because it's polite of you. Not that you really needed his help, because Feyd was the first to calm you down and take care of your friend. It was Feyd who you thanked sincerely, not that toad in the emperor's crown.

"Na-Baron, it's... very noble of you to help in this situation." Lord Luwael says, and Feyd clenches his jaw slightly at the mockery in the man's voice.

"It's my duty to take care of my guests." Feyd replies in a neutral tone of voice, taking the salts from you and helping you wake up your friend.

"We won't disturb you anymore and distract you from… more important duties."

"Believe me, lord, I have no more important matters on my mind than this." Feyd replies firmly, not moving away from his place for an inch.

The men stared at each other for a long moment, giving each other deadly looks. You roll your eyes and try to quickly think of something to keep their attention. And quickly, before the pseudo-alpha male fight breaks out.

"Could one of you gentlemen help me carry her to her room? I believe she will be better off there than here." You ask, giving them a worried, pleading look.

"Of course, my lady." They both answered at the same time. They look at each other furiously for a moment, but Feyd wins the battle of speed and reflexes and grabs your friend in wedding style. You ignore the uncomfortable tickle in your chest and the lump in your throat and nod to Lord Luwael.

You and Na-Baron walk through the halls of the palace in silence. Without a word, he follows you into your friend's room and places her on her bed.

"Thank you." You say, expecting him to leave as soon as possible. But he has other plans for you.

"Do you really think you can be happy with him? Your little lord?" He asks you mockingly, leaning against the dresser and crossing his arms.

"My happiness is definitely not your concern." You reply furiously, not caring about titles, being polite, or anything else.

He had no right to question your decisions, decisions on which your entire future life depended. He didn't even know you! He had no right to judge what was better for you. And it definitely wasn't him.

"So you voluntarily force yourself to spend time with this weak little man? Why? Because maybe one day in the distant future he will become emperor?" He asks incredulously, laughing at your stupidity. You feel your anger bubble up inside you the longer you look at the bastard's smug face. And this time, you're not going to hold back or even pretend to be nice.

"He will become emperor. There are no ifs or maybes. He is the emperor's cousin and the first male descendant in his bloodline. As soon as Irulan's father dies, he will ascend to the throne. And I will become empress!" You speak with complete conviction and stomp your foot in anger at the last sentence, emphasising your rage.

"Is that all you want? Is that your ambition? Become an empress? Because I promise you, little swan, if your weak lord, fainting at the sight of the blood and fighting of REAL MEN, becomes emperor, I will gather my troops and overthrow him. What will you do then, little swan? Will you try to seduce me to keep the crown? Maybe then the idea of becoming my wife won't be so repulsive to you, hm? Maybe then you can allow yourself to fully enjoy my touch without running away from me every time I make you cum and scream my name? Maybe then you will realise that you belong only to me, and not to any Atreides or Luwael?"

You shiver as he presses you against the wall. He's so close to you that you feel his chest brush against yours with every fast, furious breath he takes. You glance at your friend, making sure she's still unaware of your conversation, and shift your gaze back to his icy-blue irises.

"That's not your damn business." You snap at him angrily, hoping you can stop yourself from punching him in the face, but it seems like a more and more difficult task with every second you talk to him. As well as refraining from silencing him by kissing those stupid, beautiful, tempting lips of his.

"It is my damn business. From that night in the garden, everything that's involving you is my damn business. And even earlier.

You are everything I want, everything I desire. I think day and night about that sweet pussy of yours, about how perfectly you would welcome me inside you, how beautiful you would look on the throne by my side. What about you, Y/N? How many times have you screamed my name into your pillow in the middle of the night? How many times have you wished that your fingers playing with that needy clit were mine? How many times have you imagined riding me on the emperor's throne?" He asks in that hoarse, sinful voice of his, sending an electric shiver right through you to your needy core. You shiver when he nuzzles against your temple, inhaling your scent. You close your eyes and sigh shakily as his hand goes to your neck, forcing you to look into his eyes. "How many times have you wished that I was your fiancé instead of Atreides?"

For a moment, you freeze, only able to look into his eyes as he hits your sweet spot with every question. Fortunately, the moment he leans in to capture your lips in a kiss, you push him away from you and take a few steps back. You take a few calming breaths and shoot him an angry, exasperated look.

"Let's make it perfectly clear." You say it firmly, taking a step closer to him with each sentence you say. "We are not engaged. We are not courting each other. We are not even friends or have the same group of friends. We have nothing in common with each other anymore besides that one mistake, so live your life and leave me alone. Just as you wanted."

You stare at each other for a few long moments, both of you breathing heavily with anger. His bright blue eyes are agitated. Like the ocean in a storm. You see how he clenches his fists, how the vein in his arm trembles, and for a moment you are tempted to cross the distance between you and the feeling of his hands on you.

But you couldn't.

He was a Harkonnen. Your mother would kill you for rejecting such an honourable suitor as Lord Luwael for… one of those bald brutes.

"Is that what you want?" He asks in that husky voice that should make you feel repulsed, but all you feel is a shiver of excitement as you remember all the things he whispered in your ear in the darkness of Giedi Prime.

"Yes. It is." You answer stubbornly, still sticking to your opinion. This will be best for you. You must focus on maintaining Lord Luwael by your side. Maybe later, when you're married, you can somehow have an affair with Feyd, and that way you'll keep him away from Irulan.

But one thing was certain: You will end this season as a wife. No matter what.

"Well then." He replies coldly and turns on his heel. He closes the door behind him with a loud bang, not even giving you a second glance.

You try to ignore the uncomfortable feeling in your chest and forget about this whole conversation. You didn't lose anything. You just got rid of an unwanted suitor. Right? Then why do you feel… so strange? Like doing something you shouldn't do…

"Y/N?" Your friend's voice interrupts your thoughts.

"Oh, thank God, you finally woke up." You say and sit on the edge of her bed. "Why didn't you tell me you were engaged to… to Rabban?" The girl tenses at your question. You see her become more nervous and start playing with the edge of the blanket in frustration.

"I... I hoped that since nobody knows it wasn't true. But... I..." She pauses, and your heart clenches when you see her on the verge of tears.

"Come here, my girl." You say and lean in to hug her tightly. She buries her head in the crook of your neck and shivers as she tries to calm down. "I promise you, I will get you out of this marriage."

"You can't. The Harkonnen took over my home planet. It was destroying my nation, family, or marriage between me and Rabban."

"Oh, my poor girl. There must be a way..."

"There is not!" She interrupts you furiously and pulls away from your embrace. Her eyes are red, and unshed tears remain in her eyes. "Not everyone has a life as perfect and beautiful as you, Y/N. But don't you dare judge me! Or pity me! I do it for my people, for my family. I... it's noble... and maybe this marriage won't be so bad after all..."

You look at her with great compassion. You reach over and place a hand on her shoulder in a comforting gesture, but before you can say anything, there's a knock on the door.

Before you can speak, several Harkonnen servants enter. Most of them have some small crates and boxes that they put on the dresser.

"The Na-Baron sent us with this, my lady. We are here to ensure that the Giedi Prime sun will not pose a threat to your health, Lady Y/F/N."

Without knowing why, you feel a sudden wave of anger at their words. How dare he do such a thing? You try not to worry so much; you even tell yourself that your reaction is absurd, but your mood worsens even more when you see your friend's eyes become a little brighter and a genuine smile appear on her face.

You stare blankly at the maids leaving, wondering why the hell you are jealous of such a meaningless gesture from a man you don't even want.

"Na-Baron seems completely different from his brother. At least he's honorable. And he is not brutal towards his concubines. It is true that servants and soldiers die at his hands, but he only kills the incompetent ones. I feel like he's just doing it to preserve his reputation in his uncle's eyes. Oh. If only he could become my husband and not this... beast."

"Concubines?" You ask confusedly, not remembering seeing him with anyone else... not since then.

"Haven't you seen them? The whole society is talking about them. Lately, he seems to keep himself out of their company. It makes sense since he's looking for a wife, but still, they said that these women were created for his pleasure. They're kind of living robots. I don't know how much of this is true, and even if it were, Na-Baron seems to care about them."

You become even more mad, even though you shouldn't. You're almost engaged to Lord Luwael, and less than half an hour ago, you told Feyd that there would be nothing between you two and that you wanted him to leave you alone. If Y/F/N took care of Feyd, you wouldn't have to worry about Irulan marrying him. So why did you feel sick just thinking about this turn of events? Or that he has concubines?

You had no idea. And it bothered you greatly.

"Why didn't he propose?" Your mother asks you, preparing you for the last ball on Giedi Prime.

A week has passed since your last conversation with Na-Baron, and since then, you have only seen him from a distance on ceremonial occasions. As you wished, he left you alone. And you fucking hated it that his attention was taken away from you like that.

"I have no idea." You snap at her in frustration as she fixes your makeup.

During this week, you have been eagerly awaiting Lord Luwael's proposal. And it was a pointless wait. You smiled at him, flirted, tempted, and seduced him, and you did everything in your power to get him to pull himself together and propose. But he didn't. He didn't even come close to doing this once.

And honestly, you were fucking fed up with it.

You were tired of pretending to be his sweet little princess who needed a man to defend herself. You were tired of pretending to be disgusted by the violence, tired of agreeing with him, and constantly admiring things that didn't really matter. This week spent solely in Lord Luwael's presence has taken a toll on your psyche, and even more so was the fact that Feyr-fucking-Rautha Harkonnen was right. You toiled alongside Lord Luwael. But you'll be damned if you give up now and are left with no suitor.

Your mother lets you go to the ball alone while she busies herself with packing your things, or rather, drinking wine in your rooms and making sure the maids take everything you need with you. So you walk alone through the corridors of Giedi Prime and end up in the ballroom.

The Harkonnen palace is as empty to you as their entire planet. You can see enormous wealth in the city, but apart from that, there is absolutely nothing here. Not counting military bases, training rooms, and laboratories, of course. Emphasis on the development of the army and the economy. So you don't wonder why Na-Baron mainly shows interest in all kinds of weapons and bloodshed.

You look at the people around you, carefully observing the men and women flirting with each other. With a disturbing feeling of anger and jealousy, you notice Y/F/N dancing with Feyd. And as much as you shouldn't care, you want to go up to your friend and claw her eyes out when you notice how she makes Feyd laugh at something she says.

"An interesting couple, isn't it?" You tense as Irulan's voice echoes behind you. You nod at her and take the champagne from a passing servant.

"Rather unexpected. Besides, it won't last long. She is marrying his brother. And they don't match each other at all. You don't have to be jealous of your future fiancé, princess." You banter with her, sipping your champagne as you both watch the dancing couple intently.

At some point, Na-Baron's gaze falls on the two of you. And while Princess Irulan looks away, embarrassed, you raise an eyebrow at the man, giving him a defiant look. A small smile appears on his face before he turns his full attention back to your friend, and suddenly you need something much stronger than this champagne to survive this evening.

"Lady Y/N, I believe that of the two of us, I'm not the jealous one here." She says this with a mischievous smirk, watching you in your wordless exchange with Na-Baron.

You feel a shiver run down your spine at this little insinuation, afraid of what this viper could learn about the relationship between you and Na-Baron. After all, it wasn't like you two had your... encounters in private places.

The mere thought of being seen with Na-Baron in this compromising situation by none other than the witch you once considered your friend makes you lust for murder and bloodshed. You think you've spent way too much time on Giedi Prime.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, princess. I already have my lord and suitor, and I assure you, it is not Feyd-Rautha or any other Harkonnen."

"And yet, your finger is not adorned with a ring." She replies mockingly, with a cynical smile, staring at your fingers, which unfortunately are only decorated with your family's signet ring. You hide your hand in the fabric of your golden, sparkly dress and give her a forced smile.

"Matter of time."

"Probably."

"Definitely." You answer confidently and finish your champagne. The woman next to you chuckles and shakes her head.

"I hope you find what you are looking for. But it definitely won't be my cousin. Maybe Na-Baron? You always had a soft spot for him. As you can see, this childish infatuation is not one-sided and still burns wide."

This comment makes you clench your fists in anger. Irulan knew perfectly well what happened between Na-Baron and you. Or rather, what didn't happen but could have happened. However, you are no longer the naive girl you were a few years ago. You knew better. You've witnessed too many of his acts of cruelty and ruthlessness to continue to believe that somewhere inside him is still that boy from Lankivieil who charmed you. Or at least, that's what you thought until you met years later.

"I don't have to explain myself to you, but if you're that interested, I've never been more indifferent towards him than I am now." You say, not hiding the reproach and resentment in your voice or look.

"Interesting." She responds, unfazed by your gaze, as if she had nothing to reproach herself with. You smile and shake your head in disbelief. Of course. What else could you expect from her? Your eyes involuntarily land on your friend, who is having a drink with Feyd while they are laughing about something. "Lord Luwael! I believe you promised me a dance." Lord Luwael actually decided to finally show up at the party. He gives you an apologetic smile before taking Princess Irulan's hand and leading her to the dance floor.

You feel defeated when you are alone, against the wall. You close your eyes and sigh before going back to watching the rest of the people at the party. You try as hard as you can to swallow the unpleasant lump of jealousy, rage, and grief in your throat, but just when you think you've managed to calm down and tame your emotions, you feel a familiar presence next to you.

"Where's your prince charming?" Feyd's mocking voice makes your anger bubble up again. You turn your back on him and walk in the opposite direction, trying to get through the sea of people to get to the table with drinks. "Rude." He comments as he follows you.

He watches you carefully as you drink down the entire champagne in your glass in one gulp, grimacing as you do so. You refrain from making a snide comment, but his lips involuntarily twist into a malicious smirk.

"Fuck off." You growl, not even looking at him.

"You should speak to me more politely. Your lovely friend asked me to come over to you. You looked rather miserable, standing there all alone while your future emperor was having fun with a real princess."

"You know what? They say a lot of terrible, frightening things about you, and maybe some of them aren't true at all, but nothing—absolutely nothing—no fucking mask or artificial acts of politeness and kindness on your part can hide your nasty nature. Since I've been here, I've seen all sides of you, each of them riddled with rot and corruption. And yes, I'm a naive idiot who deserves sympathy, but only because I truly believed you could be something more than a Harkonnen. And I may not be a good person, but I'm not as rotten to the core as you are. I'd rather die than ever have anything to do with you. Have a pleasant evening with your concubines, my lord." You growl, pushing past him as he continues to look at you in shock.

He's calling after you, but you walk quickly through the crowd of people, wanting to get away from him and everyone in the room as quickly as possible. You put your hand over your mouth and run out into the hall, looking for a place where you can cry freely.

Without paying much attention to where you're going, you land on one of the balconies. You gasp, seeing the man there, leaning against the railings and staring at the dark Giedi Prime night sky.

You want to get out of there as quickly as possible, but you accidentally hit a glass decoration on the wall, causing it to shatter into pieces on the floor. The man quickly turns around in alarm and sighs, relaxing when he sees that there wasn't any... attack or threat to his life.

"My apologises. I thought I'd find some solitude here." You reply shakily, unable to control your voice yet. But the man doesn't seem to care. You shiver as you meet his gaze as he carefully examines you for any injuries. He carefully avoids the broken glass and sweeps it aside as he walks closer to you.

"That's all right. You can stay here if you want. Well… maybe not on these pieces of glass. I myself am looking for a bit of peace in this… lively place. Are you alright? You didn't hurt yourself?" He asks, and you quickly nod your head. You take a few breaths and run a hand through your hair, brushing any stray strands of hair from your eyes.

When you look at him, you have the irresistible impression that you know him from somewhere. But you can't remember meeting this man or even understand why he seems oddly familiar to you. In a good way.

"Excuse me, have we met before?" You can't help but ask him about it. It seems downright strange that you don't know him when you feel… strangely drawn to him. Because how could you forget a man with such white hair and the piercing look in his black irises?

"I highly doubt it. Michael." He replies, shaking your hand with a mysterious smirk. You tentatively reach for his hand, as dark as his irises. Or at least one of them. The second one was white. You shiver as he returns his full attention to you, his two-toned eyes practically hypnotising you.

"Just Michael?"

"Only Michael. And you? Mysterious star?" You can't help but laugh. Genuine laughter, which has turned out to be a great rarity for you lately. He smiles, showing you his array of white teeth.

"Y/N. And before you laugh at me, my lord, my mother told me to put this on. I had no right to object." You say, pointing to your golden dress that reflected the light coming from the corridor of the Harkonnen stronghold.

"Oh yeah. Mothers and their regime. Believe me, I have a similar one myself. It's hard to say no without fear of being disinherited, right?"

"Yes. Definitely." You say, unable to stop smiling. Something about his presence seemed calming, even ethereal. Just a moment of conversation with him was enough for you to completely forget about the ball and everything that happened a few minutes ago. Talking with him and being in his presence brought you unexpected, strange relief. "So what are you hiding from? Crazy mother? You didn't wear the suit she wanted?"

"Let's say. I'm not really… familiar with the surroundings and people here. I've just arrived yesterday."

"Yesterday? But soon the nobles are leaving Giedi Prime. Why did you arrive at the very end of this event?"

"Most of them. Some stay for a few more days due to political matters. This is the reason why I am here."

"So you're not looking for a wife?" You ask, slightly teasingly. He chuckles at your remark and shakes his head.

"Not necessarily. At least now. I want to achieve something first." This answer makes your opinion of him grow even more.

He was absolutely perfect. Starting with appearance and ending with personality. Or at least that's what he appeared to be doing. You need to find out more about him. Hook your claws into it. If not the heir to the Emperor's throne, perhaps an ambitious, power-hungry man would be enough for you to reach for it with him. But first, you had to find out more about him—for example, what family he came from.

"An ambitious man with a plan. Beware of mothers; they will tear you to pieces for their daughters. Especially Lady Whistledown, if she finds out about you and decides to put you on the front page of her gossip rags. A mysterious man named Michael is the new, most desired suitor of this season."

"The first woman who doesn't like these rumours—did she tarnish your reputation, or are you just above the high society and their ridiculous sensations to care about things they care about?"

"If I told you, you wouldn't want to talk to me anymore." You whisper conspiratorially, making him laugh.

"Are you flirting with me?"

"Possible. Care to join?" You ask teasingly and shake his hand. He raises an eyebrow at you and licks his lips. His bi-colour irises stare intently at you as he considers your offer.

"Are you asking me to dance?" He replies with an equally mischievous smirk, responding positively to your flirtatious teasing.

"Feeling offended? Should I wait until you ask me, so I can politely smile and bow, my lord? Maybe even blush?"

The man in front of you laughs. He adjusts the necklace around your neck, gently brushing his fingertips against your skin. A shiver runs down your spine as you feel his electric touch on you.

"I like your current attitude better. If you care about it…"

"Well then." You mumble as he suddenly grabs your hand and presses a kiss on it. You shiver, feeling his lips through the diamond mesh that was supposed to be a replacement for your gloves.

"I'm very curious if you dance as gracefully as you destroy things in this palace." He says, casting a pointed glance at the pieces of glass on the floor beneath your feet. You give him a mock-offended look, at which he chuckles. You find his laughter quite pleasant.

He leads you to the ballroom floor. You mingle with the crowd without drawing too much attention to yourselves. And even though you had written this evening off as a waste a few hours ago, thanks to Michael, it became... very nice. And pleasant. Refreshing.

You laugh heartily, and you feel butterflies in your stomach every time he leans towards you. You're completely enchanted by him, like a stupid teenager in love. You ignore the looks the people around you give you. For example, the stern look in your mother's eyes, the surprise in Irulan and Y/F/N's eyes, or the jealousy that Lord Luwael tries to hide when talking to Irulan. One particular pair of blue irises never leaves your side. But you don't care.

All you see is black and white—the irises of your evening companion. Surprisingly enough, you don't have to pretend to be either a damsel in distress or a strong woman who doesn't need anyone. You can be yourself. And as strange as it is, it's so nice to let go of control and vigilance sometimes. Even though the voice in the back of your head and your intuition tell you that you shouldn't break down the steel walls of your defences.

You don't even care about the whispers and rumours that spread about you in the ballroom—about your high infidelity and instability of feelings when people comment on how you rejected Lord Luwael's advances and jumped into another man's arms. You dance around with this charming man, not worrying that you just lost two potential suitors. All that mattered was that Michael made you feel like he had brought you back to life.

And you decided to remain blissfully unaware tonight and deal with the storm you had unleashed some other time. Tonight, your only activity was counting the constellations in Lord Michael's eyes, revelling in his scent and presence.

Meanwhile, Na-Baron leaves the party earlier than he should. With his hands gripped tightly around the handles of his blades.

However, this night proves something to you—something that you learned and experienced on your own skin a long time ago and Na-Baron learned tonight.

There's many different ways that you can kill the one you love, and the slowest way is never loving them enough.

Feyd's heart beats madly as he crosses the familiar halls of Giedi Prime. He avoids any guards or any living soul who might acknowledge his presence in the guest quarters. He slips silently into a specific chamber, careful not to make any sound.

He looks around the room and silently rummages through open crates, suitcases, and objects that have not yet been packed by the servants. He smiles to himself as a small vial with a familiar scent finally falls into his hands.

The poison that killed his harpies.

He turns around slowly, letting his eyes land on your sleeping figure. He silently approaches your bed, his eyes never leaving yours as he tries hard to sharpen his vision in the darkness of the room to get a good look at your facial features.

You sleep so peacefully in your bed. Feyd is downright unaccustomed to seeing you… not annoyed or insanely angry at him. In your relaxed state, you look almost like an angel.

And Feyd finds himself wanting to lie down behind you, take you in his arms, and just bury his nose in your hair, inhaling your sweet scent while he falls asleep. Which he thinks is absurd, considering that a few hours ago he found out that his darlings died of poisoning.

He should be mad at you. He should slit your throat right now, choke you, break all your bones, rip out all your muscles, and take your heart, which was as festering and selfish as his, especially after all the insults you said to him.

He takes the dagger with practiced ease. He presses the tip of it against your neck, gentle enough that you don't feel it in your sleep but close enough to feel the tip of the blade against your skin. He breathes heavily, staring at your sleeping figure. His anger rises as he thinks about how you danced with this new, strange man a few hours ago. How you smiled at him, how you flirted with him, how you ran your hands over his muscular arms and chest, how you brazenly did things that you should have done with no one else but Feyd.

And when he raises the dagger to swing and cut the skin of your delicate neck, he hesitates. Keeps steel in the air longer than necessary. Feyd closes his eyes, makes a fist, and bites it as he swings.

A strand of your hair falls onto your pillow. Feyd leans down and gathers the hair he cut off, wraps it in your shawl, and puts it on his nose. He inhales the delicate floral scent of your perfume, allowing himself a moment of weakness. He hides the dagger and his prized possessions in his pocket.

And just as he turns to leave, to accept that you will always see him as a monster, something in your jewellery box catches his attention.

He walks over to her and tenderly reaches for his old Lord of Lankiveil ring. He remembers many years ago when his uncle told him to throw away all the mementos from his old house. He kept two things. The ring and the shell that the oceans of his planet often washed ashore. He gave both of these things to you. For safekeeping.

He frowns, searching for a shell in your glass. He sighs in frustration when he can't find it. He furrows his hairless eyebrows and puts his old ring back in its place, wondering what you did with that little shell.

This discovery gives him the courage to approach your bed again. He lightly strokes your cheek with his fingertips, wondering if the fact that you kept the ring means that he wasn't as lost in the game for your hand as he thought.

But he still can't get the words you told him earlier out of his head—how much you hurt him today. And not only today. He sighs quietly, not knowing what to do. Just as he's about to remove his hand from your cheek, you roll over and nuzzle your face in his hand. Feyd's heart stops at this small gesture. He feels the warmth radiating from you as you press your cheek into his hand. His heart flutters, and his mouth goes dry at the contact as you instinctively reach for him.

And this somehow gives him hope that your anger, disgust, and resentment towards him may not have been as sincere and passionate as they seemed. He just had to approach you in the right way. And he knew exactly what he had to do next time to make sure you weren't just glaring madly at him across the ballroom or killing the women he was close to in your acts of jealousy.

He wanted all of your passionate anger directed at him. Not at any other women. And then he will do everything in his power to ensure that your quarrel goes the way he wants it to go—with you under him... or on top of him.

Either way, he will make you his. He will make you look at him the way you used to, the way now you look at those idiots you meet. And this time, nothing will stop him. Even you.

Dearest, gentle readers…

This author is completely disappointed with the lack of exciting news from Giedi Prime.

This author's curiosity has not been satisfied to any extent, and although we have learned more about the Na-Baron, his customs, his fighting skills, his dealings with his servants, and the concubines who are his constant companions in the dark nights of Giedi Prime, this author is hungry for more.

Those who have ears and eyes will probably not be surprised that Lady Y/F/N was promised to Count Rabban in marriage, which is to reconcile the countries at war. But those who are able to observe more may notice that this lady had a much better time with Harkonnen's younger brother than with her fiancé. Could it be that the brothers need to learn how to share their new bride-to-be? Or maybe this is not such a strange situation for them, considering how light and free the inhabitants of Giedi Prime are towards intimate matters. Let's not even mention the possible arranged marriage between Princess Irulan and the infamous Na-Baron.

This author, as closely as watched the affairs of the Harkonens, is watching what is happening between Lady Y/N and Lord Luwael. The young heiress of the family decided not to wait for the young lord to ask her such an important question for every woman and decided to move on with her search for a husband.

Surprisingly, Lady Y/N's attention was taken over by a certain Duke. Mchael Sahohton. And although the young Duke is not first in line to succeed to the Emperor's throne, his influence and ambition are so great that he can be considered a pretender to the throne more than Lord Luwael ever could ever be.

Is it a calculated move that Lady Y/N goes from one heir to the emperor's throne to another? Probably. Can we blame her? Of course not. After all, in the pursuit of a good match, a woman will do anything to end up with the best man possible. However, this young woman must remember to maintain her good, clean reputation in all this, which is extremely difficult to do when you have such an exciting and tempting goal in front of you.

Only one question remains: Which of these gentlemen is the diamond of this season? Which one is the most worthy of attention and pursuit by ladies

This author will try to answer this question, eagerly waiting for the continuation of this season, on the Kaitain - the homeland of the house Corrino and the breeding ground of the Bene Gesserit.

Taglist for Feyd: @avidreader73

Taglist for DWTD: @iloved1lfs0 @heartarianagran @hueanhdang @barnes70stark

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mysticfalls01 · 11 months ago

Text

Princesa III

(FC Barcelona x reader)

Part 1 Part 2

After arriving to SGP Sarina gave you room number and she told you that your roommate hadn’t arrived yet.

The moment you entered your room you sent a text to Barca’s group informing your teammates that you had arrived, before even having the opportunity to do something else Alexia called you.

“Hija! He visto que ya has llegado al lugar de concentración” (Daughter! I have seen that you have already arrived at the place of concentration)

“Hi mama! Yes, I was about to call you! Everything went great during the flight”

“That’s nice to hear hija. So, who is your roommate?”

“Well, my roommate hasn’t arrived yet, so I don’t know mama. “

You continued talking with Alexia until you heard someone opening the door, quickly you realized who your roommate was, it was the one and only Lucy Bronze.

“Mama, debo irme mi compañera de cuarto ha llegado. Te hablaré más tarde. Si?” ("Mom, I must go, my roommate has arrived. I'll talk to you later. Yes?")

“Alright hija when you have the chance text either Ona or me who your roommate is. Take care hija”

Immediately as the call ended Lucy spoke.

“Nice to meet you kid! I’m Lucy Bronze” she said while stretching her hand.

“Hi! I’m y/n l/n” you nervously answered.

“So, with who were you talking with kid? I’m sure that you weren’t speaking English.”

“I was talking with mama, I mean with Alexia, and we were talking in a mix of Spanish and English” you answered.

“Alexia as in Alexia Putellas as in La Reina?”

“Yup”

While she started setting her things down you continued talking with Lucy. You learned that she currently was playing for City and that Keira Walsh is her girlfriend. You continued talking until she said that it was time for the first team meeting.

When you guys arrived to conference room you stayed next to Lucy as the only persons that you knew from the group were Maya, Alessia and Tooney as they played for MU.

At one point of the meeting Sarina asked you to present yourself as you were the only new person of the group.

“Hi! I’m y/n l/n, I’m from Manchester and I was part of MU academy. I play as a striker, and I’m currently signed with Barcelona” you said nervously.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You fitted in perfectly with the Lionesses. Leah as captain made sure that everyone received you well, Alessia and Tooney assumed the roles of your older sisters and showed you how everything worked. Finally, Lucy and Keira they became like your aunts however you couldn’t help but to find similarities between them and Ingrid and Mapi.

Before you knew it was time for the friendly against Switzerland. As you were in the bus on the way there Alexia called you.

“Princesa! Good luck in the game I just wanted to tell you that we are going to watch the game and we will be rooting for you.”

“Thanks mama! According to Sarina I’ll be making my debut during the second half of the game.”

“Perfect! Remember that’s it’s your time to shine hija make sure that everyone realize why you are la princesa de Barcelona.”

Your debut happened just as you told Alexia. You entered the game in the 65th minute. It seemed that Leila could see the future as you did score against Switzerland.

Just as the game ended with a win for the Lionesses and after celebrating with your teammates you heard a familiar voice.

“Hey Princesa come here!”

You turned around saw that it was Ana-Maria as soon as you realized that it was her you ran towards her and hugged her.

“Princesa! I’m so proud of you, you just had your debut, and it was spectacular!”

“Thank you, auntie!”

AMC presented you to some of her teammates and as she did, she gloated about Barcelona having the princess, the player who was going to make history.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

The Lionesses were able to win two out of two friendly matches and it’s safe to say that you left a great impression to the team. Before you knew it was time to go back to Barcelona and before you could leave to the airport Lucy asked you for your number as she wanted to keep in touch with you.

As soon as you landed you sent Alexia a text message indicating that you only had to pick up your luggage and after picking it up you walked towards the exit. As soon as you spotted Alexia and Olga you ran towards Ale.

“Hija! I’m so proud of you!” she greeted while she hugged you.

“Thank you mama, I had so much fun, but I missed you a lot”

“How about this we go out to eat dinner, you sleep at our apartment and tomorrow I take you to the training session.”

You separated from Alexia and turned towards Olga.

“Is this ok with you Olga? I don’t want to bother” you shyly asked her.

“Nonsense kid! You are always welcomed to spend time with us” she reassured you.

Alexia couldn’t help but to smile while she saw yours and Olga’s interaction.

“Mama, before I forget it take this. It’s the jersey of my international debut, it’s the one I used against Switzerland I want you have it.” You said after taking out the jersey from your backpack.

“Thank you hija, I’ll treasure this forever. When we get back to the apartment you better sign the jersey frilla” Alexia answered with tears on her eyes.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

As soon as you entered the locker room Jana and Bruna tackled you.

“Felicidades hermanita! We are so proud of you!” Bruna said.

“Si hermana! You played amazingly!” Jana said at the same time.

After they got off you and you could stand up Leila approached you and turned towards Ana

“Hey Ana! Just as I said la princesa scored against you!” she jokingly said.

“Ouahabi just wait for her to play against Spain I’m sure you guys won’t be able to stop her!” Ana-Maria answered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

#barcelona femeni x reader #engwnt x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas imagine #lionesses x reader #lionesses imagine

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hellodropbear · 5 months ago

Text

like she used to (VI)

alexia putellas x sister

part I, II, III, IV, V

~~~~~~

When I asked, Aitana told me there was nothing wrong when she followed Alexia outside. She told me that Mapi hadn't been out there and that she really did need help with her dribbling.

It was a lie, of course. I am not naive.

She told me that I was staying at her house tonight, and tomorrow she will call Alba. They were not lies, that much I could tell.

I don't want her to call Alba, but I don't think I have a choice in that decision.

Aitana and Mapi don't think I should be alone at the moment. Apparently, I have not been taking good enough care of myself to be trusted by myself in my own house.

Their thought is supposed to make me feel comforted, loved. But really, all it makes me feel is frustrated. Weak.

Weaker than I already am.

I am almost 16, I should be able to take care of myself.

I don't tell them that I miss Mami, or that I wish she didn't work until late every night, because I don't want her to pull away from her job. She loves it there, it gives her time away from her children and she can earn money for her future.

I don't tell them that I wish Alba would realise that something is wrong, without having to be told. I can't pull her away from her friends, her job. Her life that doesn't really involve me anymore.

So I don't tell them anything, falling back into the silence as I get into Aitana's car, ignoring her eyes that seemed glued to the side of my face.

"I miss you, Elena."

Her words are almost silent, and if I hadn't strained my ears I wouldn't have been able to hear them.

I know what she means, she misses the person I used to be. I don't know how to tell her that I miss her to, but I just can't seem to find her anymore.

For some reason, her words trigger a sudden swirl of anger, of frustration within me and I am replying before I can even think about what is coming out of my mouth.

"Then leave me alone!"

Aitana recoils and looking back, I can recognise that my words were too harsh. Too harsh to one of the few people who had actually been looking out for me.

But my sadness has morphed into concealed anger over the past few days, a raging fire inside me that is fighting to escape, fighting to explode in the worst way possible.

There is not enough water to put the fire out, my weak attempts only making it grow and grow.

It is just unfortunate that Aitana was the one who had to witness the explosion. If you can even call it that.

Because the tsunami wave is growing, I can feel it building inside of me. It is only a matter of time before it crashes and I feel tense as I wait for the inevitable destruction.

"Elena-" Her voice was soft, too soft. Too kind and too even.

They always were. Mapi and Aitana were always too nice, too caring and too nurturing, even when all I wanted was for someone to scream at me. Someone to yell, to tell me this was all my fault just so I could have someone to blame.

It is too hard to blame Alexia because I love her too much.

It is too hard to blame Alexia because I have been grieving her like she is dead. You do not blame a dead person for dying.

I want to be punished, to be screamed at. I want someone to tell me that I should be like this, to tell me that this is all my fault. I want someone to watch as I cry, to allow me to just release every single thing that is inside of me so I can stop feeling like this.

Stop feeling the sadness, stop feeling the hurt, stop feeling the anger, the loneliness, the isolation.

Stop feeling at all.

Because it all hurts so much, feeling hurts me so much and I want to stop hurting. I want to be safe, comfortable. I want to be loved, to be warm.

I want to be held in Alexia's arms like she used to.

Her hand combing through the knots in my hair, allowing me to fall asleep in her lap.

They were the times I felt most comfortable, right there on the couch, in her arms.

Because she was the sister I went to when I needed comfort, when I needed to cry about all of life's problems. To be frustrated, angry. When I didn't want to be cheered up, when I didn't want to be positive.

To just be miserable.

But it was hard to be miserable when I was consumed by her smell, her touch. The love I could only find in my sister.

And I wish I could get that same comfort from Alba. From Aitana or from Mapi. From anyone that was willing to give it to me.

But I don't think it is that simple.

"I just... I can't do it any more."

Aitana frowns, as if debating inside her what to do.

"What do you need, Lena?"

Her voice cracks. She doesn't know what to do anymore. Similar to how Mapi didn't know what to do with me.

All I need is Alexia, her love and affection. But it is one of the only things I can't get.

So I don't respond, because I can't give her the answer that I want, but there is nothing else that will suffice.

"I don't know why I asked that question. You want Alexia, no?"

I look out the window as I nod.

"Of course I want Alexia!" A tear falls from my eye, although my words do not sound sad, they sound angry.

Because I feel angry, with everything.

But I also feel everything, every emotion giving me whiplash as I finally feel myself breaking.

Aitana hesitates, placing her hand on my shoulder.

"Hey. Hey, Elena, look at me."

I don't turn my head immediately, first trying to shrug her hand off my shoulder but giving up when her grip stays firm, her hand not even budging.

A strangled cry leaves my mouth and I slowly turn my head, my eyes meeting her wet ones.

"What is wrong with me?"

We are in a car, so it is difficult for Aitana to hug me, but she tries her best, reaching over the centre console and wrapping her arms around my trembling body.

"There is nothing wrong with you, Elena. You are going through such a hard thing, but there is nothing wrong with you."

"Why does she hate me so much?"

I whisper through my tears, but Aitana hears me loud and clear.

"She doesn't hate you, not at all. She loves you so much but sometimes it is just hard for her to show it."

"It shouldn't be so hard, it never used to be like this."

~~~~~~

August 23, 2012.

Papi's office door has been closed for too long.

A few months ago, Mami told me that he had died, that he was never coming home. I didn't believe her, so I sat by his locked door, waiting for him to come home and play the piano with me.

But he never did.

Things changed a lot around the house too. Mami started working more and Alexia also started playing more football. Often, it was Alba and me alone at home.

I would sit by the office door, Alba would lie on the sofa, staring at the tv. I don't think she was really paying attention to what was happening because, like Ale and Mami, Alba has not really been doing much at all since Papi left.

But now he has been gone for ages. A long time.

A time that has been so long that I find myself believing Mami. Papi will never come back from heaven.

They say that heaven is a good place, where everyone is happy and everyone gets what they want.

But Papi is in heaven without me. Does that mean he is happy without me? He doesn't want me any more?

The thought crosses my mind over and over, day after day. But I do not tell Mami, because she misses Papi too. I don't want her to think that Papi doesn't want her anymore.

Because why else would he stay there without us.

Alexia cries when I tell her my suspicions. I am sat in the back of her car as she drives me to her training after kindergarten, but she pulls over when the words spill out during my long ramble about my day.

I had been telling her all about the arts and crafts that we had been doing, what I ate for lunch and how I couldn't sleep at nap time. She asked me why, and I told her that it was because my brain was moving too much and I couldn't get the wriggly creatures out and get to sleep.

"What were you thinking about that was so wriggly, pequena?"

She had glanced at me through the rear view mirror, so I could see her frown. I saw it deepen as I explained the reason and watched her indicate and pull over to the side of the road.

She was quick to get into the back seat with me, easily pulling me into her arms and allowing her fat tear drops to fall onto my head.

"That is not true, Elena. Heaven is not a place people want to go to. They only go when they have no choice. Because if Papi had the choice, he would be at home with us. At home where he belongs, teaching you to play the piano, giving you cuddles and kisses, giving you baths, feeding you dinner, singing you to sleep. He is not happy without us, without you, but he is always up there, watching us and making sure we are all happy, making sure that we are all ok."

That was the moment that I realised what death meant, and that was the moment that I started to cry.

"Papi is gone forever? He can not come home, Mami said. But why, Alexia? Why can't he come home?"

Her arms tightened around me and she exhaled quietly before speaking.

"He was sick, p, very sick. His body couldn't handle the sickness and one day it stopped working. You can't live without a working body, so he went to heaven. He died, Elena, and we can't do anything to bring him back."

I didn't have a response for that. All I could do was cry, sobbing into my sisters arms in the back seat of her car on the side of the main road.

Her keys were still in the ignition, the engine still running as my body wracked with sobs, apparently contagious as Alexia dissolved into quieter cries into my hair.

I think I fell asleep there, because the next thing I knew, Alexia was carrying me into the house.

My eyes stung and my face felt dry, but as soon as we walked inside the house, I knew where Ale was taking me.

The chestnut door had not been unlocked in months, but I remember that the key was kept in the top draw of the shelf in the lounge. I couldn't reach the draw, but I grabbed the key as soon as it was in Alexia's hand, reaching down from where I was balanced on her hip as she walked silently down the hallway.

I could feel her breath catch when the door opened and my own stomach filled with butterflies as she sat down on the piano stall, sitting me right in her lap.

"Do you want to play your song?"

I shook my head. It didn't feel right playing without Papi beside me. His study felt haunted, almost, like he should be right behind me, ready to scoop me us and cover me in kisses once I finished my song.

But deep inside of me I knew he would not be there, yet it would be impossible to prepare myself for the disappointment that I would feel when he wasn't there.

So I curled up into my older sister who easily wrapped her arms around my trembling form, planting a soft kiss on my hair.

"Papi loves you so much, Elena. So, so much. He will always be up there looking out for you and I will help him out by being the one to look after you down here. I will always love every bit of you because you are my best friend, pequena."

I had nodded, responding meekly.

"You are my best friend too, Ale. I love you as well."

I fell asleep in her lap again, but the next time I woke up, it was beside her in her bed.

And I was comfortable, because my sister means everything to me.

She is the person who will be there for me forever.

~~~~~~

I was angry for the next few weeks, despondent when Mapi or Aitana tried to get anything out of me.

But they had gone over me and decided that even though I didn't want to, they would call Alba to at least let her know that I wasn't ok.

I had listened to them on speaker phone to each other from the other room, although I didn't want anyone to realise how much I actually cared. How nervous I was of rejection, of Alba not caring.

But to say she cared was an understatement.

"What do you mean, 'she's not doing well?'" Alba's voice was frustrated, that much was clear. "Is it because of Alexia? The pressure in the first team? She promised she would tell me if she needed me."

It was Mapi who responded, knowing Alba better than Aitana.

"It's everything, Alba. It is obvious when you see it, so we've been looking after her for the past two months."

"Why didn't you call me earlier? I would have been there immediately!"

She was frustrated by them, but I dread her reaction when she is told why they didn't call her earlier. Because it, like many problems in my life, is all my fault, a decision that I made. A decision that Mapi and Aitana did not agree with.

But when Aitana responded, she did not say what I expected her to.

"We didn't realise how bad it was. But she does need you, Alba, please come at some point."

"I am in the car, driving now. Where are you?"

She was clearly annoyed, her voice was very telling.

"We are at mine." Mapi's voice was soft, and I could hear her sigh as Alba hung up.

I sat back down quickly as they returned to the lounge room, not noticing Ingrid's eyes on me from where she was in the kitchen.

"Alba is coming now." Mapi spoke softly, sitting down on the sofa, leaving a large distance between us.

"I am going to go home now." I looked at Aitana as she spoke and nodded. She waved to Mapi and Ingrid, grabbing her bag and heading out.

Alba arrived not long after, practically storming inside, concern etched into her frown.

"Elena." She gasped softly, sitting herself down right beside me and wrapping one arm around me.

"Elena, what has happened?"

I shrug nonchalantly, not volunteering any information. I watched as Mapi cowered under Alba's strong glance, apparently not sure what she should say.

Ingrid was calm as she entered, however, placing a cup of coffee in front of Alba and then her girlfriend.

"Elena has been staying here for a while, some nights she's been with Aitana."

"Have you been sleeping? You look tired. You are also pale, Elena. Why didn't you tell me? Even if Maria and Aitana didn't think it was necessary, why didn't you say something when we were on the phone?"

Alba studies me closely, stress evident in her voice.

It reinforces my decision to not tell her anything until I am ok again, because now she will be everywhere.

I can't live with her because she lives far from the training ground and doesn't have the time to take me to training, but she will be everywhere else.

There is another uncomfortable silence, broken again by Ingrid.

"She didn't want to be a burden on you. She kept saying how you have your own life and you shouldn't have to look after her."

Alba just shakes her head, her arm securing around my waist and facing me more directly.

"You were wrong, Elena! I am your older sister. Just because Ale and you are not getting on does not mean you ice me out as well."

My face remains blank as she reprimands me, barely registering her words.

"Are you even listening to me? Elena! Please, just let me in."

Her voice breaks and Ingrid looks at Mapi, nodding out of the room. They exit and Alba seems glad to have some privacy.

"Why have you not been staying with Mami?"

"Not my choice."

I am embarrassed about how weak my voice is, but I can't muster any more strength.

All of my strength is used up at training, ensuring I am improving, proving my worth. I have to be good enough to stay there.

It is when I get home that things fall apart, so tired, so emotional. It is easier to be emotionless than emotional.

"Was it lonely at home, when Mami was working?"

I nod.

"And when did you start staying with Maria and Aitana?"

I shrug.

"Couple months ago. Soon after the first game. I told Mapi that I felt confused and lonely so she said I would stay with her."

Alba nods, frowning softly. When she speaks again, her voice is soft.

"I wish you would have told me. I am sorry for not noticing. It's still bad with Ale?"

I can't blame her for not knowing, she said months ago that she was going to stay out of our drama.

"We barely look at each other. It hurts, everything... hurts."

I don't cry because I don't think there are any tears left in me.

"And I don't know what to do because she was always the one I went to when I was feeling confused or when I needed things to make sense. You would cheer me up, but she would clear things up."

She nods, looking at me intently, clearly listening.

"And now I can't talk to her and nothing makes sense anymore. I don't understand anything and I just feel so... full. Like I could just burst at any moment but I'm not going to because I don't think I would deal with that very well. And I can't sleep at night because my thoughts won't stop. It's like as soon as I rest my head on the pillow they just start going and I can't stop them and I can't clear them out because-"

She interrupts me.

"Because Alexia was the one who used to get rid of the wriggly thoughts, no?"

I nod and lean my head on her shoulder.

"Have you played the piano much in the past few weeks?"

She knows that it was my way of releasing my emotions.

I haven't, so I shake my head.

"We will change that, ok? I am going to take you home for the afternoon and we'll get some of your clothes, some things you want from home because I do think it is good that you are here with Ingrid and Mapi. And you can play your piano. It'll make you feel better, I'm sure."

I nod, standing up from the sofa and walking out onto the balcony to where Ingrid and Mapi are waiting.

"Alba is taking me home." I probably should have given some more explanation, because Mapi seems confused.

"Her house is too far from here, you can't stay there, Elena."

I nod.

"She's not taking me to hers, she's taking me to my house for the afternoon. I want to play my piano and I need some of my own stuff anyway."

The Spaniard seems to understand. She nods, standing up and pulling me into a hug.

"Call me if you need anything at all."

I nod, rolling my eyes in amusement. She is too good to me. I tap her head when she releases me from the hug and she laughs, moving to sit back down with Ingrid.

"You haven't used it because it's not great, but you can use my keyboard in the study whenever you want."

"Thanks, Ingrid."

~~~~~~

It was weird walking into my bedroom after such a long time not being here. Alba helped me pack clothes into suitcases, telling me over and over that this was all ok, that everything would be ok.

I think she was mainly trying to reassure herself; Alba has always been most effected by anything that breaks our once strong family unity.

But I am only 15. Almost 16 now, but I shouldn't be by myself every night.

Because they were right, I wasn't feeding myself, I wasn't taking care of myself. It wasn't good and it wasn't healthy.

And I will never forget the kindness that both Mapi and Aitana have shown me, stepping in like sisters when Alexia wasn't there like she should have been.

I think about them as I play my piano, my fingers easily falling back into rhythms that are like second nature.

I feel my tense body relaxing as the song flows on, transitioning between fast and slow, loud and soft. My head spins with thought, but the tears do not fall.

Despite the emotions raging inside of me, my face remains stoic, focused only on the intricate patterns my fingers are creating as they hit the keys so hard that there is a slight ache in my hands. My song is full of my emotions, yet it feels like they barely skim the surface of the raging ocean inside of me.

The ocean that keeps producing waves that crash and fall at any chance they can get, usually quelled by the piano, by the rhythms that hold the meanings and secrets of my life. The notes that have written who I am and what I stand for.

But today they do not stop, they barely even slow down and the lack of the release I am hungry for leaves me unsatisfied. The song doesn't explode as usual, instead slowing down to a anticlimactic ending, my hands recoiling from the keys as I frown down at my hands.

Because why is this happening?

The piano is supposed to make me feel better, but all it has done is make me feel more confused, more worried about everything happening outside.

And I feel betrayed. Betrayed by the piano, but betrayed by my father.

Because the piano connects me to him, and I always thought that as long as I could play the piano, he would be there watching me, guiding me. My connection with him is why the piano means so much to me; it is why I can release everything into the music and calm whatever negativity I may be feeling.

But today it feels like he is not here. And as my eyes rest on the picture above the piano, all I feel is disappointment.

Alexia told me that he would be there to watch me from above and she would be there to love me from where she would always be right next to me.

And I knew that if I had them everything would be ok.

But now... Now I have neither and my whole world is going to slowly fall apart. Piece by piece until there is nothing left but me and those stupid emotions that I can't stop thinking about.

The stupid emotions that I have begun to detest.

The stupid emotions that have ruined my life.

Apparently, I have a never ending supply of tears, because they begin to fall again, my arm slamming on the keys with a sob.

I always thought I would have my father there in my piano, that I could rely on the simple instrument for that love that I so deeply desired. And he has never once failed me. Not when I needed him, not when I wanted him. He was even there when I just wanted to play, to learn, to perform.

But right now, when I need him the most, he decides he won't be there.

And it must be my fault.

For the first time in months, I feel completely empty, void of any of the emotions that have consumed me for so long.

The air becomes blurry as I cry, my mind hazy and my senses obscured.

I don't know what is happening to me, but I can feel myself slipping away as my senses disintegrate into nothing.

I think I have broken myself. Because everything is all so confusing, things rushing through my mind and out so quickly that it feels like everything is falling out of me.

Maybe the tsunami wave has grown big enough that it is ready to crash. Maybe it is already crashing, washing away everything in it's path.

But I don't know if I dislike it, because for the first time in a long time, I feel peace. I don't feel so confused anymore because there is nothing left to be confused about.

It is just me, none of those emotions that sent me into constant overdrive, exhausting me but simultaneously preventing me from resting.

None of the emotions that I used to feel coming back to haunt me, no memories of what my life once was there to mock me, a heartbreaking illustration of everything I have lost.

It's all gone.

Everything has slipped away from me and I am finally calm.

It's just me, my piano and my tears.

So I close my eyes softly, my body folding over onto the piano as my sobs soften to quiet cries. A broken chord rings through my room as my head falls onto the keys and I allow myself to just sit there.

Just me, my piano and my tears.

My door opens, but I can't hear the voices that enter my room, or the footsteps that move towards me.

I don't register the bodies that sit on either side of me on the piano stall, or the worried words that escape from their mouths.

It all sounds like a distant murmur. My skin is numb to any contact.

I don't even register Alba grabbing my face and lifting it to stare into my tear-filled eyes. I don't register the soft slap she leaves on it and there is no way for me to notice the terror that is painted all over her face, even evident in her posture.

But another pair of arms wraps around me and everything comes crashing down.

Because they are arms that I will never not recognise. A hold that is tight enough to comfort me, tight enough to make sure I can't escape, but not too tight to choke me or make me feel trapped.

I used to say that Alexia's arms had some sort of magical powers, their innate ability to calm me down and set me straight was an ability that nobody else possessed.

And Alexia was right there, right next to me. A tear stained face that likely matched mine, her voice shaky and worried as she whispered my name over and over again, her tears falling onto my head.

But Alexia was right there, and everything that she has done came flooding back to me, so quickly that I didn't even have time to register it before her touch burned me, my body instinctively recoiling and standing up.

"No..." my voice was a raspy whisper but could be heard loud and clear by both my sisters.

"No, Alexia. No!"

I stepped out of the hold that both the piano stool and my sisters had on me, backing up to where my bags were, picking them up and fleeing the room.

Because I can't deal with this.

I can't deal with the tears that stain Alexia's face, the terror that was clear on Alba's.

Because this all is my fault.

And there is nothing I can do at this point to fix everything I have ruined.

~~~~~~

hope you enjoyed :)

part VII

#woso #woso fanfics #barca femeni #fcb femení #aitana bonmati #mapi leon #fcb femeni #alexia putellas

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pumpkinbxtch · 6 months ago

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hi! I love your Apollo fics sm can I please request a fic we’re the reader is Percy’s older sister and she finds out there’s like a prophecy of her marrying Apollo and then like they eventually meet and fall and love and then what there marriage is like

𓇼 the sun & the sea 𓇼 〰✷〰

— apollo / lester x daughter of poseidon!reader

— part i | part ii | part iii | part iv |

☆ radiostar is playin': hot rod by dayglow...!

summary: There is a prophecy waiting for you to listen to it and although it may not be something you expect or consider possible. You know what they say about prophecies…they can't fail to come true.

warnings: none BUT long read, literally. got out of hand and i couldn't stop writing. that's bad? oh, fuck me, i'm sorry. a/n: i appreciate your request, thank you (although I think I changed it a little, sorry). HEAR ME OUT I feel like I owe a lot of love to those who love Apollo, so that's why I didn't entertain the idea of making this long. Hope you like I know it's long, but I promise I did my best to make it bearable and fun, I swear. 😭

“The sea and the sun are not far away as they look…”

They told you to stay away from the attic of The Big House, but they never told you why.

“Only he can go up”, they said, and it seemed stupid to you because he was your younger brother; you were supposed to protect him.

“It's very dangerous”, they told you while Annabeth went up, even though you were a couple of years older than her.

“Only if you lead some quest, but…” but no, because as the years went by, they made sure to remind you of your place. They told you that you were powerful, smart, and capable, because, yes, you were Poseidon's firstborn, but not the chosen one. That was Percy, your brother. Did it hurt? Yes, as an older sister, you tend to aspire to greatness and be an example, but you didn't die; you got over it.

“What does it matter? Less work for me” you said as you watched your brother's back on all the missions. Anyway, you ended up stuck in his destiny.

“His destiny. But then, what's mine?” you wondered. Then, when you took a step near Rachel Dare's cave, they stopped you too.

“It's–”

“Dangerous.” You completed the familiar phrase with a look of disgust, avoiding Chiron's eyes. He just looked at you with pity, thinking to himself that if you went in there, you could cause more trouble for your father or Olympus… Or everyone; it would be a war among all the Olympians, something they didn't need with Titan Kronos already on their heels.

Dionysus gave you his typical mocking smile, the same one that made you want to grab the can of Diet Coke and throw it right at his disgusting Christmas-reindeer-red nose.

“It would be so interesting, but we don't need it,” he said as he dragged you away from Rachel with Chiron.

You weren't stupid, you knew there was some good reason. But damn, those fossils were sneaky and never let you get to your redheaded companion, who also avoided you like the plague. Between those two things, you never managed to achieve it. Even less so after you ended up fighting on the Argo II with your new friends, straight from real Greece.

Oh, man, if you had thought Kronos was a damn old grump, Gaea was an old ball-buster. You didn't even have time to think about your future when you didn't know if you had one.

After the second war is when you started to throw in the towel about the future. You realized that the last thing you wanted to know at that moment was whether you would have to fight against twelve more Titans, return to Tartarus, or travel to Alaska again.

New Rome became your new home, and you only waited for Percy to catch up with you along with everyone else. That is, until you returned home to pack new things and didn't find your brother studying just as he should be.

— Mom? — You asked when she came back from shopping.

She gave you that look, and you cursed.

— Relax, he'll be back in a while; he just went to drop off Apollo or well, now he's Lester because apparently he's no longer a god but Zeus…

— Wow. Wait, what?

As a hero of Olympus, touching, seeing, or talking to the gods was never impossible for you; in fact, it was much more usual for your taste, and although you had been through too much already, that was new. So, you found yourself immediately traveling to Long Island Sound on the back of a Pegasus, looking for your brother. You wouldn't let Apollo, Lester, or whatever he called himself now take your brother away to distract him with his godly stuff that surely wouldn't lead to anything good.

— Where's Percy?! — You shouted in the dining hall, making the campers flinch.

Chiron got up from his seat, and from there, he smiled at you, but it only put you in a worse mood.

— Dear, it's been a long journey. Please, sit and eat with us.

You lowered your head without taking your eyes off Chiron and tightened the dagger on your belt. There was no reason for it, you knew, but you couldn't help feeling that fury after knowing everything you had been through. Percy deserved a break.

— Where's my brother? — The pause between words made the campers squirm in their uncomfortable seats. They had heard about you, about everyone. to be exact, in the third lesson of history in their camp classes.

— He left Apollo and Meg in a field not far from here — Chiron decided to sit back down and began to spread the tablecloth nervously. — He probably should have already reached home while you were flying here.

You sighed, and as you relaxed your body, everyone seemed to feel relieved.

— He has exams, Chiron — He nodded, and you made your way to the table where he was.

— In fact, there are problems, and apparently, he promised to come back this weekend — Your eyebrows furrowed again, and Dionysus laughed.

— Girl, shouldn't you be in New Rome?

— I went home for a few more things, also taking the opportunity to see my family, and it turns out that my little brother was helping an ex god who can't fend for himself, risking his studies. — You replied without looking at him — And speaking of brothers, you should control yours, Mr. D.

The god of wine snorted, and you formed a mocking smile. — Insolent.

— Miss Jackson — Chiron intervened, and you softened your gaze toward him — You can stay tonight, you know you're welcome and after all, it's too late to travel on Pegasus.

You didn't argue with them; you'd never put your pegasus in danger. So, for the first time in a long time, you returned to your cabin, the same one you shared with Percy and Tyson for so many years, and you had to admit that you missed him. At dawn, you were preparing to travel, and you left at the moment you thought no one was watching you, how wrong you were because a few meters away, Apollo was hidden behind the cabin piles, admiring you from afar.

— She… — He felt his heart tighten, and his gaze unfocused. He cursed his mortal body for how weak it was.

— Pervert! — Meg shouted, alerting the other campers who turned confused, and Apollo blushed.

— Shut up, I'm not a pervert — He smiled exaggeratedly at the others, pretending a smile and letting them know that everything was fine.

— You saw her — Said a voice behind him once Meg was far enough away to hear. The brunette turned and smiled sheepishly.

— For a second — Apollo replied, avoiding his old friend's gaze; embarrassment nibbled at his body, and it became evident once his cheeks glowed.

Chiron had never seen him… like that, so young, embarrassed, and notably imperfect, but despite Apollo's opinions about his recent change, he thought it suited him well, even found it amusing.

— You remember…

— I remember it well, Chiron — Apollo blushed even more — That's why I didn't approach her; dealing with my father's wrath is enough. Now I don't want to annoy Poseidon or I'll probably wake up dead on the lake shore tomorrow.

He played with the tips of his sneakers as buried them in the rocks on the floor; he looked like a scared little boy, but Chiron didn't judge him.

— I think you know what it means when she's around when you're close.

The ex god didn't want to pay attention, but he knew he was right.

— Although I remember who she is… there’s a problem. I don't remember how to avoid her…— Apollo's blue eyes looked directly at Chiron's, and the urgency on his face told him he was telling the truth. — If I don't know now, it's going to be harder; all I can do is hide if she's near.

— We've lasted many years with this circus, and as much as I respect the lord of the seas, I don't think this will last long. And you know what's more stubborn than a son of the sea god?

— The sea god — Apollo raised his eyebrows in annoyance, and Chiron resisted rolling his eyes.

— Fate, Apollo. You know it well, things are written. The prophecy is still there; it exists, and all we've done is delay the inevitable.

The brunette nodded with annoyance and waved his hand dismissively.

Although he wanted to pretend that he didn't care, the anxiety of what was to come ate at him. He knew very well that it wouldn't take long for you to discover what all these years had been hidden from you. If Apollo reflected better on that, he wasn't sure he wanted to continue keeping it to himself, either, 'cause those years had been torture for him. Yeah, he knew that you weren't yet mature enough for your mind to be stained with the weight of a prophecy that, unlike the others, not had to do with some quest or some imminent danger that threatened the entire world; but now you are in college, he couldn't wait for you to know.

The thing was, your father thought that the one who could be in danger was you, his precious daughter since Apollo was selfish, arrogant, and immature to have been around for eons. Poseidon could not fully explain the reason The Fates had woven such a destiny for you. So, until things had and could happen at the right time, in the right way, he warned Apollo to be close to you and he knew so well that be such an idiot idea to make him angry.

Before his thoughts could swallow him, Apollo shake them off and sigh to Chiron.

— Right now, I have a bigger problem. I think we've found something.

— Where?

— Here — Chiron frowned, and Apollo looked towards the camp's forest. — My dear friend, you have the Grove of Dodona here, in your playground.

Apollo didn't know that of all the decisions he had made in his life, avoid you was the best one he could make, because even if you had met that day or before, with the things that were about to happen to him, he wouldn't come back as half the man he was.

“Things at the moment, in time” the fates whispered in some place.

#maría's shared dreams☆｡ﾟ✧#trials of apollo #trials of apollo x reader #apollo pjo x reader #apollo pjo #apollo x you #apollo x reader #apollo #pjo hoo toa #heroes of olympus #pjo #apollo x y/n #lester papadopoulos #lester papadopoulos x you #lester papadopoulos x reader #lester papadopoulos x y/n #lester x you #lester x reader #percy jackson

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americaswritings · 1 year ago

Text

Voices of Roses and Ruin | Part III

Warnings: mentions of violence, mentions of killing, mentions of torture, Coriolanus being himself

Summary: Coriolanus realizes he's still a part of the Capitol's games and that your life is the prize.

Words: around 3k

Pairing: Young Coriolanus Snow x reader

A/N: I never expected this to turn into a story, but here we are! I really hope you enjoy it!! Also I'm halfway through the book now and planning to watch the movie (in English then) again afterwards! I'm so excited!! :)

If you have ideas for Coriolanus oneshots I would love to hear from you (or if you just feel like ranting about the movie, the world of Panem, the characters, Tom Blyth...lol)

Can be read as Lucy Gray x Coriolanus Snow here

Part I | Part II | Masterlist

All Coriolanus had wanted was to follow you that night.

Seeing you in the arena had been painful. Watching them use his voice to torment you had been worse. And thinking he would never see you again had topped it all.

But watching you walk away from him? That was a new kind of pain.

Everyone left Coriolanus life. First his mother and his little sister. Then his father had followed. All he had left were the Grandma'am and Tigris, but it didn't feel that way with them so far away.

But here he could have you, if he allowed himself it. And God how he wanted to. His days as a peacekeeper were dull and lifeless, but you had brought colour and a flicker of hope into his life.

There had never been the choice between you and the scholarship, but suddenly there was and he didn't know how he could decide between the path he had always firmly believed was his and the girl he had never seen coming.

But there too many reasons holding him back. You belonged to different worlds. That would never change.

It was a cruel kind of knowledge.

Every time he tried to forget about you he awoke sweating. You haunted his dreams.

The look of betrayal on your face as you had realized he would return to the capitol. That even after he had admitted they had used his own voice to manipulate you, he would still go back and pretend it hadn't happened. That he was still the same boy.

He dreamed about your body. About sacred moments of peace and quiet the two of you, the outside world forgotten. About your laugh and the spark in your eyes and that you would fall asleep and wake up in his arms.

He dreamed about every scenario involving your death his brain seemed to come up with. Death in the arena. Death because he had manipulated your chances. Death because he had let you go.

When he heard Tigris voice for the first time since he had been sent to the districts over the phone the relief almost made him cry. He wished he could tell her about his conflicted emotions, but he couldn't risk anyone overhearing him.

Besides, he didn't know if he could ever admit to her the true extent of his feelings. It was embarrassing that of all people he had fallen for a weak girl from the district.

But you were so much more than that to him. It was why it had been so painful to watch you go. Because until that moment some part of him seemed to have hold onto the improbable hope that you would start a life in the capitol together.

As the winner of the games he had assumed it could be possible. That people respected you enough that he could be seen with you and that you wouldn't be forced to return to your life of shreds and dirt.

But you had shown him that this was no future you could ever imagine. And just as you weren’t willing to change for him, he couldn’t do it for you either. Even though you loved each other your love was not enough.

But then why did it hurt so much?

"Everything okay?", he asked Tigris to distract himself from his thoughts. It was another worry that made his heart heavy, the one for his family. Their money was still as tight and with him gone there was not much he could do for them now.

He earned too little, could barely pay for his own foot and housing. Was this how the people in the districts felt? Stuck in a constant loop of worry, fear and work that would never pay off? Unlike them he would never accept such a fate. Unlike them he didn’t belong here.

"We're okay." He heard an edge to Tigris voice, "but there's something you should know about."

His posture stiffened and he gazed around, making sure no one was there. "What is it?"

"Everyone's talking about you and the girl in the capitol." His fingers clenched around the steel. "What are they saying?"

"Never in the history of the games did the gamemakers ever do what they did there with your voice." "He was aware of it, so he waited for her to elaborate. "But why use your voice? The voice of her mentor. Why not someone from her family, someone she cares about?"

To hear Tigris say that you didn't care about him, that he was nothing more than your mentor hurt, but he pushed the anger away. "She doesn't really have family left. And she trusts me. So it makes sense."

"Then why did they only use it on her? Why didn't they try to manipulate anyone else?"

He let out an impatient sigh. "I don't know. They didn't tell me they would do it. But it was our task to make our tributes trust us and I was the only one who succeeded."

"But they didn't, Coryo."

Momentarily he forgot what he was about to say and took in a breath. What was Tigris implying? "It was your task to be a good mentor. Get the people's attention and make them root for her. But making her trust you was your decision."

"Didn't you tell me I should do it?" He sounded tired and accusing and he knew his cousin heard it in his voice. "Yeah, but I didn't expect-", she trailed of and he waited for her to continue, frustrated when he realized she wouldn't.

"She really trusts you, you know that, right?" He was growing more irritated with this conversation by the second. "I think I did a good job, if that's what you're asking."

"My God Coryo, that's not what I mean!" She exhaled loudly at the other side. "We all saw how scared she was for you. For her mentor. For someone from the capitol."

Her words were another reminder how different the two of you were. He hated it.

"We all saw that you care about her too. You kept visiting her. You two talked so much even when the cameras weren't near and everyone who was in the same room saw how terrified you were for her in the arena. And then, against all odds, she wins and you disappear without another word."

She was speaking softer now, probably expecting the defensiveness he felt rising in him. She knew him well. "They gave me a task. I did what I had to. That's all."

Tigris was silent for a moment. "Even if it were true, you did your job a little too well. The people are obsessed with it! With you and her, the idea of a love story between a mentor and their tribute. A Snow and the girl from ashes."

Tigris was speaking slowly, like she was afraid she was overwhelming him with the news and her tone was grave and serious. It was the polar opposite to the hope he felt.

It wasn't the narrative he would have chosen, but a story meant attention and attention meant relevance. If it was true and Tigris was right, they couldn't keep him hidden in the districts much longer.

People wouldn't just accept the two of you together, they would demand it.

His lips curled into a smile. He could have never imaged a better way to get out of here and to convince you to come with him. What reason did you have to say no now?

"Then why do you sound so fearful?"

Tigris took in a deep breath.

"It's the people that love it. You know how they are, always looking for gossip and a good story to keep them entertained enough to forget about their own miserable lives. But-", she paused, "the people are not the capitol. Everyone who's got something to say in Panem hates it. It sends the wrong message, Coryo. That the people from the capitol and the people from the district could be equals. The whole point of the hunger games is to demonstrate supremacy and power. They don't want a girl from a district turning into a star and having a sweet little romance with one of their own."

His smile faded. He felt his heart pounding in his chest and suddenly the room was too small, the walls to high. With each second it was getting harder to breathe. The uniform- he needed to get out of this damn uniform!

"Coryo?"

Tigris voice sounded far away as he struggled between losing himself to his fears and keeping a composed and prideful image.

He had realized the situation he was in was far from ideal before, but having the capitol, the very people he needed to impress as his enemy could- no would destroy his whole life!

And yours too.

The future he had just seen before his eyes ruined by words of love.

"What do you think they'll-", he still couldn't catch his breath. He needed these peoples on his side, not against him. How had he ended up here, so useless and powerless?

No! He needed to keep it together! He would get through this, like he always did. He would find a way to make this work for him or if there was none, he would come up with something else...

He was smart and his name still meant something. Snow always lands on top.

"I don't know what they’ll do." Tigris answered his question without him having to finish it. The worry in her voice did nothing to quieten his own. "But it's only a matter of time until they will have to act. I just- I wanted to warn you, Coryo."

He nodded, more to himself than her. "I will be fine." He had regained his composure and his voice was perfectly emotionless.

"I am worried for you. I think they might try to-"

He would never find out, if Tigris suspicions had been right, because before she could finish her sentence the call cut off.

Had they listened again?

Was he even safe here anymore?

Two more days passed before they came for him.

Two days he had spent pondering his choices yet felt no confidence as he stepped in front of the commander. His posture was as straight and effortless as always, so one would have guessed he was secretly far from calm.

He had expected to meet his superior in an official building, something elegant, if that even existed in the districts, but instead he was led to a distant part of a warehouse, where the lights flickered and spider webs hung heavy.

Coriolanus saluted in front of the man, then waited patiently for him to speak. He hoped no one could see past his guard, noticed how fast his heart was beating.

"I was informed about certain rumours circling the streets of the capitol these days. I take it you have heard about them too?"

He gave a short nod, forcing his face to remain blank. The man, who he assumed to be in his late fifties took a step closer. His hair was completely grey, except for one white strand. It gave him an upper look that didn't suit the scenery of the district.

Was he from the capitol? He wasn't dressed like it though; he was wearing the peacekeeper uniform, but something told Coriolanus it was a disguise of his real power. The capitol liked their games.

"So what do you think?"

"I think-", he began, but his voice got interrupted by a painfilled scream. His eyes flickered to the door, but it was locked, either side guarded by a peacekeeper. None of them moved and when he turned back to the commander he simply weaved his hand, urging him to continue.

Coriolanus swallowed, taken off-guard by the noise but pulling himself together. "I think it's just that- rumours. Eventually the public will take an interest in different news."

"Ahh, so you don‘t think such a narrative could have an impact on the political climate both in the districts and the caption? That it could send the wrong image?“

Coriolanus pressed his lips together. “I believe-“, but again a cry disrupted his attempt at an answer. It could not be a coincidence that they had chosen this place to talk to him. It had probably been arranged to shaken his composure and unsettle him. He hated to admit that it worked.

It was probably just a thief, paying for her sins. No one that deserved his attention. Yet it was unnerving, a subtle reminder just how quickly he could manoeuver himself into the same position.

“Oh don‘t tell me that’s bothering you?” The man in front of him raised his brows. “You should be familiar with the sound of traitors. So what is it you wanted to say?“

Coriolanus straightened his shoulders, but this time the sound was louder, clearer. It was a scream that cut through the air and it was one he knew too well.

No.

“Mr. Snow, what was it you were saying?“

He blinked in irritation and straightened his shoulders when he realized his loss of posture.

“I was saying that the capitol could own it. Make it their own narrative. A tribute developing…an infatuation“, he felt sick, “with her mentor could be-“ Another scream. He felt his composure crumble. The man tilted his head. He was silently laughing about him, Coriolanus was certain about it. “…helpful“, he finished, clearly distracted by the background noises.

They sounded too familiar, had been the sound of his many nightmares and a silent fear crept up his spine.

What if this was real? What if it wasn‘t his mind playing tricks on him, making everything about you? Seeing, hearing you everywhere..

“So you affirm that this- infatuation as you call it is one-sided and you hold no feelings for you tribute?“

Coriolanus lifted his chin. “I merely did my job. I earned the public’s attention and got them interested in the games again. I turned a tribute with no chances into a winner.“

“So you‘re saying the girl doesn‘t mean anything to you?“

He put on a smile that didn‘t reach his eyes. “I assure you and everyone in the capitol that I do not have any connection to the girl beyond the mentorship and that I have no interest or care for her fate now that I completed my task.“

He had always tried to mask the truth or bend it when he felt he needed to, but lying was a different kind of game. One he felt he was losing.

He could tell himself he did this to protect you. But the reality was that he didn’t know if he did.

No, he had to think of his own life now. It was better this way. He had helped save your life once. Now it was time for you to walk your own path.

“Coriolanus!“ He flinched. It was too late to pretend he hadn‘t, everyone had seen it, but he couldn‘t not react when he heard your desperate voice calling his name.

This whole time his instinct had told him that he was right. That the sounds belonged to you and this was more than just a set-up to unnerve him.

It was a trap.

“What is this?“ His voice came out too sharp and he willed himself to remain calm, but it was impossible, if you were here and you were hurt.

“Oh, it should not be of concern for you as you just told us you do not have any interest in the girl‘s fate.“

Had he just said that? In his head it had sounded much more- convincing. But hearing his own words reflected back to him just made him realise how pathetic they sounded.

They could not be farer from the truth.

“As her mentor I would like to know what you are accusing her of“, he tried a different approach, but it was senseless.

“Oh but Mr. Snow, she is not your tribute anymore. Like you said there is no connection between you and the girl.“

His commander took a step towards him. “Now tell me, which one is the lie?“

Coriolanus swallowed. It took all of him to stand still and keep himself from running after your voice. His body was trembling from the effort. Too long he had been trapped behind a screen, unable to do anything to help you.

But here he could.

Another scream broke the silence. Despite his will he flinched again and closed his eyes for a moment, willing himself to stay strong, remain unaffected. But with each sound he felt himself losing control and a hatred took over his instinct.

“I personally believe you have been lying to us for a long time now, Coriolanus. I can see it on your face. But I would like to hear it out of your own mouth.“

Another step closer. Another cry.

“Say it.“

Coriolanus clenched his jaw, his hands balling into fists.

“SAY IT!“

His fist connected with the man’s jaw before he could even think about what he was doing. He saw the other two peacekeepers at the door reaching for their weapons, but he was faster and had shot them with his own in an instant.

Without another look at them he ran for the door, following your pleas. His heart was racing as he raced through the corridors and tried to locate where it was coming from.

Hopefully he wasn‘t too late. No, he couldn‘t think like that! Yet the thought of what he might get to see tore at him. He should have acted sooner, he should have- killed these men before they even got the chance to open their mouths. It had been a lost game from the beginning and he was done being their paying piece.

“Coriolanus!“

He had almost made it. Just another room…

Coriolanus pushed it open with so much force that the door crashed against the wall and broke out of its hinges.

Breathing heavily and sweating he came to an abrupt stop and took in the room. It was small, dimly lit, empty. He took a step forward, his eyes fixed on the only thing in the room. It was a table and on it-

A cage with a bird.

Part IV

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daisy-does-art-and-stuff · 26 days ago

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I GATHERED ALLLLL MY EVIDENCE TOWARDS THERE BEING AN ACT THREE

ITS UNDER READ MORE BC THERES A LOT MORE SPOILERS THAN MY LAST COUPLE POSTS

every finale for every season had a panning shot of the sky with "the end" showing up in black text. we didnt get that in this episode (https://x.com/goblonglo/status/1845168766839046382)

all the plotholes?? the things left unfilled?? there is no way theyd leave it off so open-ended. even hfjones ending had more closure

most movies have 3 acts. the 2nd act is known for being the part where everything seems hopeless and theres no saving them. we're still in the "all is lost" portion yall!!

there was a member that said something along the lines of "keep an eye out for what mores to come" in a tweet that was deleted not long after it was made. this implies They werent meant to spoil that there was more coming (https://x.com/meepletism/status/1845164453970706672, https://x.com/eyewellduh/status/1845156100779180075)

no one has ever had a solid answer whether or not there was only act 1 and act 2. not anyone has said a word about it yet. sure, theres no confirmation, but theres also no denying

the entire "how bow got her tail" thing. every time they made her start talking about it, it cuts away. we dont now whats up with that yet, which implies that it spoils what its gonna be used for in the future

THEY JUST HIRED NEW ANIMATORS!!! like LITERALLY just hired a big batch of new animators. there is no way that they did it just for one last part of the series just to end it so soon.

in the post where they promoted the release of ii17 on twitter, it states the series CONTINUES, not CONCLUDES. if you look back on old posts, like the one from the iii finale, it states in big bold letters THIS IS THE END IT ENDS HERE but it doesnt do that (https://x.com/AnimationEpic/status/1845134881098961164, https://x.com/AnimationEpic/status/1764314840410021903)

kinda hand in hand with above but the description of this video compared to other finale episodes looks like just a normal episode. theres no "thanks for watching the series" or anything. the ii team wouldnt just Leave it off like that i dont think

adams account being deactivated over on twitter due to his whole "running away from mephoneX" thing has to be relevant right. they have to reactivate it at some important point. like when act 3 comes out? right??

i cant think of anything more if anyone else has something to add please do so. also if theres anything here that doesnt make sense i apologize my brain is in such a whirlwind

editting this for a few new reasons

11. every season so far has had 18 episodes (if you dont count the iii finale being broken into two separate episodes). we're currently at 17

12. brian asked to contact someone in regards to credit sequences which is Probably in relation to the ii finale. we havent seen that yet so either it wasnt for ii or theres Another Episode for us to See It In. proof in posts comments

13. in the last meetups, a suitcase plush was hinted at. theyve also talked about the plush on stream. we havent been advertised this plush yet so theyre likely saving it for the last episode

#inanimate insanity #ii spoilers #inanimate insanity spoilers #“daisy stop posting about ii act 2”#no

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hellinistical · 24 days ago

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fem! reader x rafayel. royal! au. sea horror! au. heavy angst. minor and major character death. slow burn. romance. fluff. explicit smut. trauma. religious themes. gore; hinted torture, cannibalism, decapitation, self-cannibalism. violence wc: 3945 | status: on-going

III: COLLECTION

"Are you really happy about this?" Y/n whispered, her voice barely cutting through the excited chatter as Caleb exchanged handshakes and congratulations with her father. Caleb turned, his smile softening, but his eyes remained determined.

“Of course I am. This is our chance. You’ll see,” he said, the words hanging in the air with a strange finality. Y/n forced a smile in return, but inside, her stomach twisted. She nodded mechanically, her mind wandering as the celebration buzzed around her. Her mother was already talking about the wedding, Eva was prattling on about flowers, and her father stood tall, a rare look of relief on his face.

But Y/n felt none of it. The ring on her finger was a foreign weight, and every time she glanced down at it, her stomach sucked itself in a little more. Her mother pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts, cupping Y/n's face in her hands and kissing both her cheeks warmly. The sudden affection brought Y/n back to the present, and she blinked, realizing the room was still alive with excitement.

"Look at you, my sweet girl," her mother said, her voice thick with emotion. "I always knew you’d find a good man." Y/n tried to offer a genuine smile, but it felt weak. "Yeah... good man." Her mother’s eyes glistened with pride. “You’ll be married before the week’s end, and soon, we’ll be rid of all this uncertainty.”

Y/n swallowed hard, the words ringing hollow in her ears. The celebration around her felt surreal, as though she were watching it from outside her own body.

“Caleb, my boy, I thank you kindly for taking my daughter,” “It’s nothing to thank me for. I should be the one thanking you.”

“Mama, I need to talk to you,” Y/n said, her voice low but insistent. She gently tugged her mother away from the crowd, leading her inside the house. Caleb’s watchful gaze followed them, a brief flicker of concern crossing his face, but he quickly masked it with a smile as more congratulations poured his way. Once they were inside, Y/n closed the door behind them with a quiet click. The muffled sounds of celebration from outside were drowned by the sudden silence of the room. She let out a deep, tension-filled sigh, running a hand through her still-damp hair.

Her mother turned to face her, a questioning look in her eyes. “What is it, darling?”

Y/n hesitated, chewing on her lip before speaking. “This… this whole thing with Caleb. It’s happening too fast. I don’t—” She struggled to find the right words, her voice shaking. “I don’t feel right about it.” Her mother’s face softened, but there was a firmness in her eyes. “Sweetheart, I know this is overwhelming, but you’re doing what’s best for the family. Caleb is a good man—”

“I know,” Y/n interrupted, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “But it’s not about him being a good man. He... he’s talking about the farm like it’s some kind of business deal. Like I’m part of the exchange. It doesn’t feel right, Mama.” Her mother sighed, rubbing her temples as if trying to gather her thoughts. “Marriage is always a balance, Y/n. It’s never just about love—it’s about securing a future, and stability. And Caleb can offer you that.”

It’s quiet momentarily, and all Y/n can do is stare. “Are you serious-” Mrs. L/n clapped her hands, a bright smile on her face. “Well, enough of that, dear. How about some roast? We’ll need to get some meat on your bones for the wedding!” Y/n blinked, taken aback by the sudden change. Her mother bustled past her, heading towards the kitchen.

Standing in the doorway, she watched as her mother hunched over with the oven mitts, pulling out the roast that was staying warm. “Mama, what? We didn’t eat all that too long ago. Why would I want roast now?”

As she got up, she busied herself with the pots and pans, her movements quick and deliberate. "You can always eat more. Besides, we have company, and it’s a special occasion."

"Special occasion?" Y/n raised an eyebrow, her voice heavy with disbelief. "I just agreed to marry Caleb for the sake of—" She stopped herself, not even sure how to describe the situation. "And you're talking about roast?"

Her mother sliced through the roast with a quick, practiced motion, cutting a decent-sized portion and slapping it unceremoniously onto a plate. “Yep,” she said without missing a beat. “I’m talking about roast.” The smell of the cooked meat wafted into the room, rich and savory, filling the awkward silence that followed.

Y/n stared at the plate, her frustration building, but all she could muster was a sigh. “I don’t think eating roast is going to fix this, Mama.” Her mother didn’t respond immediately; instead, she pushed the plate toward her with a firm hand. Y/n grabbed the fork, stabbing it into the roast and tearing off a piece. The meat was tender, practically falling apart as she lifted it to her mouth. She chewed slowly, the rich, savory flavor doing little to soothe the knot of tension twisting in her stomach.

Just as Y/n took another bite, they heard the sound of horses' hooves approaching, the rhythmic clipping getting louder by the second. The energy in the room shifted. Her mother stopped moving entirely, her hands gripping the edge of the table. The tension was palpable. Suddenly, the front door burst open, and her father, siblings, and Caleb rushed inside. Her father’s expression was tight, the worry lines on his face deepening. Eva looked pale, and even Caleb, who had been all smiles earlier, now seemed uneasy.

"They're here," her father said, breathless, glancing at Y/n and then back at her mother. "The carriages. It’s time." Y/n’s heart pounded as she stared at her family in disbelief. "What do you mean, 'they're here'?" she asked, her voice rising in panic. "I thought we had till midnight!" Her eyes darted to Caleb, searching for an explanation. He quickly put his hands up in defense. "That’s what they told me! I swear!" he said, his voice edged with confusion. "I thought we had more time too."

Her mother stepped forward, her face unusually calm. "They change the schedule sometimes, child. There’s nothing we can do about it now. We need to get you ready."

"But—" Y/n started, her mind racing as she processed the sudden shift. "No 'buts'," her father interrupted. "You have to go, Y/n. If you don't show up, they'll come for you." His voice was serious, a stark contrast to the warmth from earlier. Lucy started to cry, reaching for Y/n. Her mother scooped her up, trying to soothe her.

Y/n felt her own panic rising, but before she could respond, Caleb's grip tightened around her arm as he guided her up the stairs. His steps were quick, and he didn’t look back, his expression hardened with determination.

Eva followed close behind, her worry evident, but as they reached Y/n's bedroom, Caleb quickly shut the door and jammed the vanity chair under the knob. The soft click of the door lock sent a shiver down Y/n’s spine.

"Caleb, what are you doing?" she asked, her voice wavering as she glanced between him and the door. Eva knocked from the other side, her muffled voice calling Y/n’s name Y/n’s heart raced as Caleb’s hands framed her face, but his chuckle sent an icy chill down her spine. She felt her breath hitch in her throat as his expression shifted, a stark contrast to the excitement they had shared moments ago.

“What are you doing?” she repeated, her voice trembling. Caleb’s gaze was piercing, devoid of the warmth she had grown used to. “I really didn’t want to do this,” he said again, almost to himself, as if he was weighing a decision she had no say in. “But it’s too late for second thoughts.” He leaned in closer, and for a moment, she thought he might kiss her, but instead, he pulled back slightly, his eyes narrowing.

“You’ll have to forgive me,” he continued, his tone cold and calculated. “I’m not wanting to stay in this town. And unfortunately for you, your time is up.” Y/n’s heart raced as she processed his words. “Caleb, what are you talking about?” she breathed, confusion and dread washing over her. The room felt smaller, the air thick with tension.

Caleb’s grip on her face was firm, but there was an unsettling glint in his purple eyes, one that she had never seen before. “I didn’t want to do this, but things have changed. I need you to go to the capital; tell me where the deed is.”

“Protect yourself?” she echoed, disbelief flooding her voice. “What are you saying?”

“I mean you’re a liability now, sweetheart. With you engaged to me, I thought I could keep the potential profits safe, but I never intended to stay here. This was just a way to secure my own future. But now?”

“You dick!”

“Don’t take it personally. This is just business.” He leaned closer, the warmth from earlier now replaced with cold calculation. “I’ll make sure everyone believes I’m still the loyal fiancé, hopelessly in love and heartbroken, while you’re whisked away to whatever fate awaits you. It’s what’s best.”

He kisses her, and if it weren’t for the fact that he moved his hand to her lower back, she would have recoiled. “Here. A gift from me to you.” The words dripped with a mocking sincerity. His eyes danced with a mixture of amusement and something darker, and she found herself recoiling from his touch as reality sank in.

She wipes her mouth, spitting. “You bastard! How dare you!” She raises a hand to strike him, but he easily sidesteps, shrugging, his casual demeanor grating against her frayed nerves. “Caleb, how can you think this is okay?” she exclaimed.

“It’s just the way things are done. The world doesn’t care about feelings, Y/n. It’s about survival.” He paused, his tone shifting. “You should be thanking me; you’ll get to go to the capital, wear pretty dresses, and not smell like animals.” “Oh fuck you!”

Caleb’s expression darkened, his patience wearing thin. “You’re not understanding. I’m doing this to ensure my own future. If that means you’re sacrificed, so be it. It’s nothing personal. Just business.”

“I thought you were my friend!” “And I thought you were a means to an end,” he shot back, the mask of indifference slipping just enough to reveal the truth beneath. “You’re smarter than you let on. You’ll find a way to survive. You always have.”

“You’re a coward,” she whispered, the weight of the word heavy between them.

Caleb smirked, unphased. “Call me what you want. But I’ll be free while you’re left to fend for yourself. Just remember, Y/n, you’re not the only one who can play the game.” With that, he turned and strode towards the door, leaving her breathless and reeling, the world outside now a cacophony of laughter and celebration that felt completely out of sync with the turmoil within her heart.

And that’s when someone knocked on the front door. The loud, authoritative knocks echoed through the house like thunder, cutting through the tense atmosphere that lingered between Y/n and Caleb. Her heart sank as she turned toward the door, dread pooling in her stomach.

Caleb, who had been moments away from leaving, froze in place, his confidence faltering. The muffled voices of her family and the chatter from the gathering outside faded into silence, replaced by the ominous sound of heavy boots shuffling on the wooden floorboards.

“They’re here,” Y/n whispered, her voice barely audible as the reality of the situation began to settle in. The collectors had come, and with them, the fate of her future lay precariously in the balance.

“Don’t panic,” Caleb said, his earlier bravado returning as he straightened his posture. “Just stay calm. We can figure this out.” Before she could respond, her father’s voice boomed from downstairs, a mixture of confusion and fear. “Who is it?”

“Y/n L/n!” came a deep, commanding voice from the other side of the door. “We’re here on royal business. Open up!” Her breath hitched in her throat. The collectors, tasked with selecting girls for the kingdom, had come for her. She felt trapped, her body frozen in place as the reality of her situation crashed down around her like a wave, drowning her in panic.

Caleb stepped closer, urgency in his eyes. “We need to hide you. Now.” “Where?” she asked, desperation creeping into her voice. “There’s nowhere to go. They’ll find me!”

He glanced around the small room, and in that moment of panic, she noticed the vulnerability behind his façade of control. “Under the bed,” he instructed, pointing toward the wooden frame. “Hurry!” Before she could argue, he crouched down, yanking the bedspread up and making space beneath the bed. “Get in! I’ll talk to them.”

“Y/n! Where are you?” her mother called from downstairs, her voice laced with panic. With no time to spare, Y/n dropped to her knees, crawling beneath the bed. Dust tickled her nose, and she held her breath as she squeezed herself into the narrow space, heart racing. Caleb glanced at her one last time before standing, his expression hardened. He opened the door, putting on a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes as he faced the collectors.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he greeted, trying to exude confidence. “What brings you to our humble abode?”

“Is Y/n L/n here?” the lead collector asked, his voice cold and authoritative.

Caleb hesitated, his eyes darting toward the door, wishing he could shield her from the fate that awaited. “She’s… she’s in the washroom. But I can assure you, she’s not ready for your visit.”

“Step aside,” the collector commanded, pushing past Caleb with an air of authority. “We have orders from the crown to collect her.” Caleb opened his mouth, but the collector shot him a sharp glare, silencing him. “It’s not a request.”

Y/n held her breath, feeling the weight of impending doom as the collector moved deeper into the house, calling out her name. She could hear her family’s worried murmurs, the tension thickening the air.

As the collector’s footsteps grew closer, Y/n squeezed her eyes shut, praying they wouldn’t find her. Would they even care? Would they simply take her, leaving her family behind, their tears and fears forgotten?

“Where is she?” the collector’s voice rang out, sharper now, demanding.

Y/n could hear the rustle of her mother’s skirts, and the tremble in her father’s voice as he tried to defend her. But all she could think about was the cold weight of the ring on her finger, a symbol of a promise she hadn’t wanted to make. Caleb again tried to stall. And was promptly met with a punch to the stomach.

Caleb doubled over, gasping as the breath was knocked from his lungs. Pain shot through his midsection, and he struggled to regain his composure. The collector's imposing figure loomed over him, a smirk of satisfaction playing on his lips.

"You're a foolish boy," the collector sneered. "Thinking you can meddle in royal business. We don't have time for your games."

Gritting his teeth, Caleb forced himself to stand tall, defiance flaring in his eyes despite the pain. "I’m not playing games. You can’t just barge in here and take her without explanation!"

The collector stepped closer, towering over him. "We’re not here to discuss, boy. We have orders from the crown to collect Y/n L/n. Now, if you want to avoid further injury, you’ll step aside."

Behind the bed, Y/n’s heart raced. She wished she could hear what was happening, but all she could focus on was the muffled sound of Caleb’s voice and the low rumble of the collector’s threats.

“Do you think you’re protecting her?” the collector continued, his voice dripping with mockery. “She’s not safe here. Once she’s taken, she’ll be under the protection of the crown, where she belongs.” Caleb's jaw clenched, frustration radiating off him. “She doesn’t belong to anyone but herself! She deserves a choice!” The collector rolled his eyes, dismissing Caleb’s protest with a wave of his hand. “Choices are for the privileged. In case you haven’t noticed, the kingdom is in need of sacrifices. You’re just prolonging the inevitable.”

Caleb’s breath quickened as he took a step forward, determination flaring in his chest. “I won’t let you take her. Not like this.” “Enough!” the collector growled, lunging forward and grabbing Caleb by the collar. “You want to test your strength against the crown? You’ll end up in a cell next to her.” Y/n’s heart sank further as she pressed her back against the wall, desperate to disappear. She could hear the shuffling of feet as the collectors spread out, searching for any sign of her. The tension in the room escalated, and the weight of her fate loomed ever closer.

“Let go of him!” Her father’s voice rose from the hallway, filled with anger and concern. “You have no right to lay a hand on my family!” “Stay back, old man!” the lead collector shouted, his grip tightening around Caleb’s collar. “This is none of your concern.”

Y/n winced, realizing that her father was stepping into dangerous territory. “Papa, please!” she whispered under her breath, but it was drowned out by the chaos unfolding.

Caleb, though momentarily pinned, locked eyes with Y/n, a silent message passing between them. She could see the determination in his gaze, the desperation not just to save her but to stand up against a cruel fate. Suddenly, the collector’s hand released Caleb, who stumbled back, gasping for air. “Enough of this nonsense. We’ll take her ourselves if you won’t cooperate.” Before Y/n could process what was happening, she heard the heavy footsteps of the collectors approaching the bedroom door, each step resonating with authority. Panic surged through her as she realized they were closing in on her hiding spot.

“Don’t you dare,” she thought desperately, wishing she could will herself to be invisible. She could hear her heart pounding in her ears, a frantic rhythm echoing the chaos unfolding outside. Caleb stepped forward again, a fierce protectiveness in his stance. “You will not lay a finger on her!”

The lead collector turned, annoyance etched across his face. “You’re playing a dangerous game, boy. This is your last chance—step aside, or face the consequences.” Y/n’s heart raced, a mixture of fear and anger flooding her senses. She wanted to scream, to run, to fight for her freedom, but all she could do was lie there, trapped in the darkness beneath the bed, paralyzed by the weight of the moment.

The lead collector moved closer, a predatory glint in his eyes. “Last chance,” he repeated, his voice cold and unyielding. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

Caleb's expression hardened, and he took a deep breath, ready to make his stand. “I won’t let you take her.”

The collectors exchanged glances, and in that instant, Y/n felt the world tilt beneath her, the ground shifting as their confrontation reached a fever pitch. Would Caleb’s bravery be enough to protect her? Or would they both be swept away into the tide of royal orders and cruel destinies?

Y/n, hearing the grunts of pain, rolled her eyes. Caleb really was a fucktard. And though it was stupid, she got out from under the bed; she didn't want her father to get hurt or locked up. She dusted herself off before opening the door for the men. "Apologies gentlemen, I was finishing getting dressed." She added a curtsey.

“Thank you for your patience,” her voice was steady. “I’ll just need a moment to gather my things.”

The collectors exchanged wary glances, clearly assessing her sudden appearance and demeanor. The lead collector cleared his throat again, his expression unyielding. “You will be given thirty minutes. Do not waste our time. We have other duties to attend to.” Y/n nodded, her heart pounding in her chest. “Of course.” She glanced back at Caleb, whose face was a mixture of surprise and frustration. His lip was busted. Served him right.

‘Rat.’

One of the guards stepped forward, blocking her path. “I will accompany you while you gather your belongings.” “Of course.” she quickly began shoving clothes into her worn leather satchel, her hands trembling with the urgency of the moment. She could hear the guards murmuring amongst themselves in the hallway, their voices low and conspiratorial.

Once finished, she secured the strap of her satchel over her shoulder. The weight of her belongings felt heavier than usual. Whatever. “Time’s up!” the lead guard barked, his tone brooking no argument. “Let’s move!”

Y/n took a deep breath and stepped back into the dimly lit hallway, her eyes scanning the scene before her. Her family was gathered at the entrance, their faces a mixture of concern and resolve. Lucy, still in her mother’s arms, looked up with wide, innocent eyes, unaware of the gravity of the situation. Y/n’s heart clenched at the sight of her youngest sister, and she fought to keep her expression steady.

“Everything will be fine, I promise,” Y/n whispered to Lucy, brushing her fingers against her sister’s cheek. Lucy’s small hand instinctively reached for Y/n’s, and she held on tightly. Y/n kissed her fingers, forcing Lucy to let go.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Her father nodded, eyes glazed. He came over and hugged her, kissing her forehead. Eva glared at the guards as if that would stop them. The lead guard cleared his throat, signaling for Y/n to move. With one last look at her family, she turned away, the pull of her heartstrings nearly unbearable. Caleb stepped forward, a desperate plea in his eyes.

“Y/n—” he started, but the collector interrupted him. “Let’s keep it moving, boy. She’s got places to be.”

Caleb’s expression hardened, but he held his tongue, frustration simmering beneath the surface. As Y/n walked past him, she made sure to knock into him where he was hit. The guards led her out of the small home, the world outside cloaked in an ominous gray. The carriages, adorned with the emblem of the crown, were waiting just outside. The horses stamped their hooves against the cobblestone road, their breath visible in the chilly air. Other women were being ushered out, as well. The sight sent a chill down Y/n’s spine, each carriage representing an unknown fate, a path she had never envisioned for herself.

“Get in,” the collector ordered, gesturing toward one of the carriages. Y/n hesitated, glancing back at her family one last time. Their faces were etched with worry, and she felt a pang of longing. Lucy babbled something akin to a ‘goodbye’. Y/n didn’t look though, not as she climbed into the carriage, the door closing with a resounding thud behind her. The interior was dark and cramped, with only a single window- still blocked with a curtain. She settled into the corner, clutching her satchel tightly. It was an hour before someone else joined her. The neighbor from two houses down- Harlow Bianchi.

But before she could say anything, the carriage lurched forward.

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noxturnalnymph · 5 months ago

Text

Devotion 🖤 III. Path to the Future (Ch 11)

CultLeader!Joel x OFC!Reader

Series Summary: When is it enough? When is it too much? When does Devotion become Obsession?

Visit the Series Masterlist for series warnings, cult info, timeline info, and HCs on ages. Reader has a nickname and some minor physical descriptions - is an OFC from Reader POV.

*This series is 18+ MDNI. I will not be listing individual chapter warnings as I don't want to spoil the plot of each chapter. Please see the series masterlist for entire series warnings to decide if this is for you.*

LAYOUT OF JOEL'S HOUSE PREVIOUS

III. Path to the Future

CH 11 (7.3k) Slowly opening your eyes, you see warm sunlight pouring in through the high windows in a familiar room, although a room you didn’t expect to see ever again. You blink a few times, already knowing you’re in the same clinic room you woke up in last fall. Your mind does a few somersaults, trying to recall where you’ve been and how you could be here again. It doesn’t take long for you to figure it out.

You sit up slightly and the first thing you see is Joel, sitting in his old chair at the foot of your bed, watching you. You see him break eye contact and look at your head, so you reach your hand towards your head but a clamping sensation on your wrist stops your hand’s upward movement. You throw the blanket off your arm and see that your right arm is handcuffed to the bedrail. The transition to being Joel’s prisoner is complete.

“Really?” you huff.

You look back at Joel and he gives you a shy smile, looking almost repentant. Almost.

You suppose if you’re being truly honest with yourself, you didn’t think he would actually let you go, even though you practically begged him to. He’d told you more than once that he wouldn’t let you get away and seeing as how he’d marched across the state to catch up to you after you left the farm, going back empty-handed probably wasn’t on his agenda. You knew this, but it didn’t make you any less annoyed to find yourself shackled to your hospital bed under his watchful eye.

“Is this the part where you take a sledgehammer to my legs?” you ask, straight-faced.

The doctor walks in just then and gives you a surprised look, then smiles.

“Glad to see you woke up so quickly,” she says as she takes out a flashlight and checks your eyes. “Joel said you hit your head pretty hard.”

You grab her with your uncuffed hand, she jumps slightly.

“You have to help me,” you plead. She looks towards Joel and you squeeze her arm to draw her attention back to you. “Joel is the one who hit me on the head, you have to help me get out of here, you have to get Tess. Please get Tess.”

“Stop that, now,” Joel hums, then turns to the doc and whispers. “See, doc? She hit her head and she’s just been sayin’ all sorts ‘a crazy stuff. I’m just worried about her safety.”

Shit. While you were unconscious Joel apparently got in front of the situation and already laid the groundwork for his gaslighting, spinning a tale about the wound on your head and justifying the need to handcuff you to the bed. He thinks he can win this game? Maybe he thinks that because you haven’t even been playing it, you’ve been blacked out from a head wound he gave you.

"You are such a fuckin-” you sneer at him.

“See what I mean? She’s been so mean, not like herself at all,” Joel continues in response.

“I’ll show you how mean I can get, Joel… Uncuff me from this bed.”

“We don’t want a repeat of last time, now do we?” Joel says to the doctor, then turns to you.

Oh, now you get it. You’d threatened these people with scissors all those months ago - when you woke up in an unknown place - and Joel is playing on that fear they apparently still have of you. He’s playing like you’ve lost your mind, like you’d be a danger to all of them if they don’t listen to him. Oh, he’s good. He’s downright diabolical.

“Joel,” you huff. “Don’t fuckin’ do that shit. I know exactly who is the threat here and it’s not me.” The doctor begins to slowly back out of the room, the growing tension making her visibly uncomfortable. You turn to her, pointing your finger at her face and screech, “You have to get Tess!”

The doctor keeps moving slowly towards the door, not giving much merit to your shrill ramblings. You move your outstretched finger back and forth between Joel and the doctor, muttering curses under your breath and trying to figure out how the fuck to get out of this. You sound kind of crazy now, thanks to Joel for pushing your buttons. You wish this was easier, that he was dumb like those kids at the summer camp, but unfortunately you’re dealing with someone who knows all your tricks, who can see through your deceptions. Maybe he had a point when he said you two were alike.

You’re going to have to play to the doctor, to get her to help you despite Joel’s planted lies. Convinced there’s few alternative options, you decide to try and fake a medical episode. You’ve had a knock on the head, it’s completely within the realm of possibility. You throw your body backwards on the bed and begin to convulse, shaking your limbs and rolling your eyes back in your head. You clench your hands and teeth, trying to mimic a seizure as best you can.

It works. The doctor is back at your side immediately, calling for help down the hall, lifting your eyelids to shine a flashlight back in your eyes, yelling for Joel to hold your legs.

“That’s not real,” Joel calmly says.

The doc continues to shout orders at two nurses now in the room, one of them shoving something in your mouth to bite down on and the other holding your legs. The doctor is yelling at Joel, who continues to stand back in silence and refuses to help. You decide to up the ante and stop holding the full bladder that probably woke you up in the first place, letting yourself pee the bed while continuing to shudder and shake.

“Oh Fuck,” one of the nurses says.

“She’s faking it,” Joel says from behind them.

“That’s not fake piss,” the other nurse says.

“Go get Tess,” you hear the Doctor whisper to one of them.

---

You hear Tess’ voice in the hallway, and her steps pause just near the doorway of your room.

“What happened? Is she okay?” you hear her ask.

“She’s fuckin’ fine,” Joel mutters.

“The doc said-”

“She’s fakin’ it,” he hisses.

You can’t even stop the giggle that escapes your lips, as you lie there, having pretended to be unconscious after your incident.

“I thought you said you guys worked your shit out,” Tess says to Joel.

“Well he’s a fucking liar,” you answer, sitting up in bed and yanking your wrist up to clank the metal handcuffs on the metal bedrail.

She looks back at you and then back to Joel. You can’t see her face but he shrugs and looks away from whatever look she’s giving him.

“It’s a work in progress,” he growls.

She asks him for the handcuff key and when he gives it she comes over to the bed and unlocks your wrist from the restraint. She looks you over, touching what you now know is a bandage on your head from whatever Joel hit you with, and sees that besides being covered in your own piss you’re otherwise unharmed.

“Can you give us a minute?” she says, facing you.

“I don’t think she should get up,” Joel answers.

“I was talking to you, Joel,” Tess says, turning to look at him. “I’m asking you to leave the room so we can have a conversation without you in here.”

A long pause goes by while her words work their way past his thick skull.

“Yeah, okay…” he trails off, looking dejected as he shuffles out of the room.

She turns back to you.

“You gave us all quite the scare there, ya know?”

“I’d had enough,” you shrug. “I couldn’t be near him anymore.”

“But you weren’t near him, I sent you pretty far away.”

“And yet, he still had a way of gettin’ under my skin… Also, and I know this is gonna sound crazy, but I had shit go missing and it just seemed like-'' Tess' face twists at your words and stops you mid-sentence. Realization washes over you. “Oh… so not crazy then.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers, reaching out to touch your hand. “When I found out I made him stop.”

“I think you need a shorter leash on your dog, Tess.”

“What do you want me to do? Do you want to leave again? I’ll help you.” She asks earnestly.

“You think he’d let me?” You both exchange a look that says you both know the answer is no. “Then what am I supposed to do? What do you think I should do?”

“It doesn’t matter what I think, we can do whatever you want to do.”

“It matters to me what you think, Tess.”

“I- I know it seems like this is a deeply toxic relationship. But I think you’re both at war with each other, firing everything you’ve got over the walls you’ve both put up. I think - and you can tell me to fuck off - but I think that if you both put down your weapons and let each other past the armor, that you’d actually be really fucking good for each other.”

A long pause stretches between the two of you and then you scoff.

“Fuck off, Tess.”

“You don’t think so?”

“You’re just saying what he wants you to, obviously,” you snide, even if you don’t really believe it.

“So none of your feelings for him were real?”

“How could they be? That wasn’t who he really is.”

“Sure it was. That was part of him. And this- this is also part of him.”

“Yeah, a fucking asshole,” you spit.

“So now you have the whole picture, right?”

“Yeah, I do.”

“So you definitely don’t feel anything for him now.”

You open your mouth to immediately answer but your stupid fucking brain reminds you of the way you felt when he told you that he loved you and you choke on your words. Fuck. He said he loved you. He said that Bianca’s baby wasn’t his. He said you were all he wanted. You hated him. You hated the way his words made your flesh shiver, made your insides flip. You hate the effect he had on you, the way he’s making you doubt yourself now.

You turn your head to hide the tears that have come to your eyes unbidden and spill down your cheek. Tess sees it, your whole reaction is so fucking obvious, but she’s gracious enough not to say anything. She squeezes the hand she’s been holding.

“Maybe just give it a little time. Then we can figure out what to do, okay?” she says.

---

After your little stunt the doctor insisted on observing you overnight and you didn’t have the heart to reveal your lie to her, so you stayed in the musty old hospital bed with Joel sleeping sitting-up in the chair that he moved in front of the doorway. The next afternoon Joel walks you from the clinic back to the house - his house - as if you don’t remember how to get there. Obviously he just doesn’t want to let you out of his sight. The first time he sent Tess to bring you there but he apparently doesn’t even trust her anymore.

You see people watching you walk together, tending to their yards and pretending not to stare. It hasn’t been a week since you walked down the gravel drive of the farm but people have obviously heard about your little disappearing act. When you get to the porch you see a box filled with your clothes and trinkets you left behind at the farm sitting outside the door. When you step inside the house is eerily still, Joel’s footsteps coming in behind you loud in the unusual quiet. He comes up beside you, the box in his arms, and nods his head up the stairs.

“Where do you want your stuff?” he asks.

Your brows knit. What does that mean? “Which room is free?”

“You can have any room you want.”

You take a moment and then point to the door at the top of the stairs to the right.

“My room?” he asks.

“My room,” you answer.

You don’t actually expect him to give you his room, you were just fucking with him, but he walks up the stairs and brings the box into his room as you follow on his heels. He sets the box down on a chair and you watch in silence with a curious expression as he grabs his clothes out of the closet and lays them down on the bed. He goes to the dresser and grabs more clothes, placing them on top of the others and then gathering them in the blanket that was atop the bed like a fuzzy parcel.

“There’s another blanket in the closet for ya,” he says as he heads out of the room.

You follow him to the doorway but don’t leave the room, watching him turn and bring his armful of shit into Tess’ room. That’s gonna be a shock for her when she gets home, you think to yourself. Shit, maybe fucking with Joel isn’t a good idea if it’s gonna screw over Tess, the only person who seems to be in your corner. He comes back out of the room and your eyes meet in the hallway. You jump back and slam the door closed, locking the handle. You’re not sure what his limits for being messed with are going to be and the bump on your head reminds you of his not-so-gentle nature. Probably for the best to keep away from him for a while.

---

A light knock on the door wakes you from your afternoon nap, the room now cast in a dim evening glow. You sit up in Joel’s bed and look towards the door - still shut and locked.

“Dinner’s ready,” he says through the wood, then you hear his footsteps retreat down the stairs.

You didn’t mean to stay asleep so long. How did you not wake up while dinner was being made? You unlock the door and head downstairs, the creaking stairs under your bare feet echoing off the walls. You turn into the dining room and see the long table empty, save for a plate of food set in front of each chair at the head and foot of the table. What the hell?

“Where is everyone?” you ask.

“Just us,” he says.

You eat dinner in silence, the silverware scraping the plates is the only sounds outside your own jaw chewing the food. He takes your plate when you’re done eating and washes the dishes alone in the kitchen. This is creeping you out, the quiet, the calm. What is he doing? Where is everyone? You think he must be waiting for you to let your guard down so he can pounce, so while his back is turned to the dining room you tiptoe out of the room and run up the stairs, diving in his room and locking the door behind you.

It occurs to you that he probably has a key for his own room so you grab the chair from the corner and place it in front of the door, wedging it under the handle. You used to see this in movies and never thought it would work but you remember Tess doing it the night he bit you, so you think maybe there’s some truth to it after all. You hear him walk past the door a while later and a closing door echoes from down the hall.

He’s just there, on the other side of the wall, in Tess’ room. You wonder if he put something outside this room, maybe hung bells on the door, so he can hear if you try to escape. God, you think he’d probably put a leash on you if he had one. Shit, does he have one? You look over to the doorknob again, double-checking it’s still locked. You think you’re safe. At least for tonight.

You’re suddenly regretting trying to fuck with him, maybe it’s best you just act pleasant, maybe he’ll treat you best if you go along with whatever the fuck this is. Maybe you’ll check with Tess tomorrow at breakfast and see about switching rooms. You don’t actually want his room, the room he most definitely has a key to. You’d rather share Tess’ room with her, and be safely locked away from him with someone. Just one night alone and then tomorrow you’ll fix it.

---

You’re awoken by a loud knocking, and it sounds like it’s coming from downstairs. You wait to see if anyone else is going to answer it but when there are repeated knocks you get out of bed and move the chair blocking the bedroom door. When you make it downstairs and throw the large front door open you see Tess standing on the porch.

“What, did you forget your key?” you laugh.

This is a joke, because there is no key. The front door is never locked. You were told your first week here that everyone within this town could be trusted so no one bothered to lock their doors anymore. It gave you a warm fuzzy feeling inside and made you feel like after nearly a decade of fear, maybe you were somewhere that you could feel safe. Even after being harassed and kidnapped by Joel, you suppose that this is somewhere you still feel safe.

Tess gives you a strange look, but smiles.

“Is Joel around?” she asks.

“I dunno,” you shrug.

“Well when did you see him last?” she looks past you, around the house.

“At dinner, then he went into your room for the night. He wasn’t there when you woke up?” Your brows knit to match the confused expression on her face. “Oh, you didn’t come home last night?”

“What do you mean my room?”

“He didn’t tell you?” You blush a little and bite your cheek to keep from smirking. Don’t be an asshole, it’s not funny to fuck with your captor. “I took his room so he moved into your room. But it’s just temporary, I don’t want you to be put out, it was just a joke-”

“That- that’s not my room anymore though,” she says slowly and then repeats your words. “He didn’t tell you?”

Your smug expression melts away. “What?”

“I don’t live here anymore,” she says.

Just then you both hear a scuffle of boots behind her and look to see Joel walking up the steps, hair slicked back fresh from the baths. He looks between you and Tess, both of your faces marked with confusion.

“Everythin’ okay?” he questions.

“Why does Tess think she doesn’t live here anymore?” you blurt out, acrimony lacing your words.

“Because she doesn’t?” He continues looking back and forth.

“Why would you kick her out? She had nothing to do with me leavin’, she didn’t know-”

“She didn’t move out as a punishment,” he clarifies. “Everyone found a new place to live, it’s just you and I here now.”

“Wh- What?” you stutter. Is that why you haven’t seen anyone else since you got back? You and Joel have been alone here and you barely even questioned it. A million questions race through your mind. You land on the simplest. “Why?”

“Why? Because you told me you thought we were meant to be together but you couldn’t watch me be with anyone else,” Joel says, moving past Tess and closer to you in the doorway as he speaks. “So there’s no one else now. It’s just me and you.”

Your cheeks heat. You don’t dare risk a glance at Tess to measure her reaction to Joel’s recounting of your humiliating confession. Joel moves to take your hand but you pull back, worried that you would melt into his touch and your armor would shatter, floating away like dust on the wind only to leave you naked and exposed right there at the front door for everyone to see.

Instead, Joel says he’ll be right back and moves past you and into the house. You see him head towards his office as you keep your gaze unfocused on the bustling square behind Tess. He comes back moments later and steps past you again, Tess turning to join him in bouncing down the stairs.

“Hey! Where are you going?” you call out to their retreating figures.

They stop and Joel turns around. “Got work to do,” he replies.

“You’re just gonna leave me here? Don’t you wanna chain me to the radiator or somethin’?” you shout loud enough that you’re sure some of the neighbors can hear.

“Do I need to?” he shouts back.

Tess elbows him, looking around and smiling an awkward grin. They both turn back towards the square and continue walking away, leaving you at the threshold.

Since you apparently have an empty house and nothing else to do, you heat up several pots of water, carrying them upstairs to take a bath in the tub. You've been wearing the same thing for nearly a week, so you discard your smelly clothes on the bathroom floor and sink into the hot water. You let yourself soak until the water grows tepid, thinking over Joel’s words as he left earlier. It’s just me and you. He’d sent everyone away, even Tess, because you told the idiot you were foolishly in love with him once. Now you’re in this house all alone with him. God, it sounds like a nightmare, you whisper to yourself, even as a thrilling feeling zips down your spine and makes your pussy clench.

Fuck, you hate him, why do you react like this? He’s a fucking maniac, a controlling narcissist who has hurt you to keep you from leaving him. Once out of the bath you plod around the house, naked and dripping, confirming what Joel told you this morning. Every bedroom, aside from the two claimed by you and Joel, is unoccupied. The beds are stripped bare, the dressers are empty of clothing, the shelves devoid of books, and any personal belongings that once adorned the walls or tops of nightstands have been cleared away.

You pass by the front door, checking the lock as you go, seeing it unlocked and thinking how crazy it is that he just left you here. He seems pretty confident you’re not going to set fire to all his flannel shirts, grab his gun from the locked case that he irresponsibly leaves the key on top of, and raid his pantry before you take off up the mountain. Then you realize that’d probably be a lot of wasted energy since you’re fairly certain you’d end up right back here within a week, Joel clearly unwilling to lose the game of cat and mouse you’re engaged in.

You utilize your time alone by snooping further, letting yourself into Joel’s unlocked office and walking around the sun-filled room. There’s so many windows in here but you don’t even care if anyone sees you snooping around in the nude. You run your fingers along the spines of the paperbacks on his bookcases, recalling afternoons spent with him in this room, alone. You’d practically sit on his lap, watching his mouth curl around the words while he read to you about doctors or dinosaurs, courtroom dramas or enchanted forests. The way you wanted him… could you ever feel that again? He seems to think so.

You sit down at his desk and start rummaging through all his drawers. He’s got pens and notebooks, patrol schedules and calendars, and several photographs of him with people you don’t recognize, taken on polaroid cameras in what looks like a Fedra QZ. You find several maps drawn out of the Valley, both the town and the larger community outside its crude walls. You move to put the maps back and a piece of cloth catches your eye.

You pull it out to find that it’s your pillowcase from the dairy farm. You’d come back from your bath one day this past spring and had noticed it missing. Inside the pillowcase are two books; the one he gifted you for Christmas and the one you’d lost at the farm. Tess confirmed your suspicions the other day but you’re still pissed off at this evidence that he couldn’t leave you alone, wouldn’t let you just move on. The last thing inside the pillowcase is a pair of your underwear and you stop to think, unable to remember any of those going missing at the farm.

Then it dawns on you when he’d taken these underwear. Unlike his other ill-gotten keepsakes these were something that you let him take off you. These were from the night you let him in completely, let him have every last piece of your mind and soul, let him devour you completely. The night you knew you loved him. Your body reacts again, a heat spreading across your chest and up your neck to your cheeks. You feel your core start to tingle and uninvited images of him between your legs plague your mind. That memory shouldn’t make you feel like this. He shouldn’t make you feel like this.

He’s a liar. He’s a manipulator. He’s a bad fuckin’ guy.

Joel comes home late in the afternoon just as you’re getting hungry, having only eaten some canned vegetables from the basement all day, with dinner in his hands. He sets the containers down at opposite ends of the table again as you take your seat, awaiting his reaction to the sight of you dressed in nothing but a t-shirt and the reclaimed underwear that he’d kept hidden away. You see his eyes dart down your legs as he moves towards his own chair, but he doesn't react. You notice the meal is packaged up the way that Kerri used to do it, when she would bring meals out to valley residents.

“Still got Kerri making all your meals for you, your majesty?” you mock.

“Making food for everyone is Kerri’s job now, so yeah, I stopped and got us some,” he says calmly, not taking your bait for a fight. “I didn’t think you’d feel up to making dinner for us yourself just yet.”

The realization of his words hits you like a slap in the face. “You expect me to make your dinner?” you balk. Before he can respond you stand and throw your food across the room, watching the hot steaming meal splatter against the wall behind him. “I’m not gonna cook and clean and let you breed me like I’m your little wife.” You tip your chair over as an added flair in your little tantrum and turn to march up the stairs, shouting as you go. “I’m not playing fucking house with you, Joel.”

Joel didn’t think it was going to be easy, you adjusting to being back home. He knew you were still upset with him - rightfully so - and that it’d take time for you to adjust, to find your rightful place here. He thinks maybe you never found your footing before and that’s part of why you used to be so meek and adrift. Now he sees a confidence in you that he never saw before. He knows what you’re capable of, he knows how meticulous and calculated you can be when you want something.

So he’ll just wait. He’ll wait until you figure out what you want. If you don’t want to cook that’s fine, he knows you’re not very skilled in the kitchen anyways. He doesn’t care what you do, he just wants you to find something to make you happy, to make you want to be here in this life with him. There are so many jobs here you could do but you never seemed interested in the garden, or the household chores, or fishing, or apparently even milking cows.

So what are you interested in? He'll leave you to sort it out on your own and when you’re ready you can let him know, and he'll give it to you. He’ll give you anything you ask for, you just haven’t realized it yet.

---

Every day after that follows a similar script. Joel leaves with Tess in the mornings and you spend the day lazing about, making messes, and snacking on anything you can find. Several days in you worry that Joel will get on your back about the dent you’re putting in the preserved food stored in the root cellar. You head across the square to Georgia’s house, who used to love boring you with stories about her six kids - all adopted here in the valley - and is now happy to feed yet another welcome face. You only have to endure her talking your ear off and you get a hot meal. It’s almost too easy.

As you walk around the square in the afternoons, you greet the residents, coming out of their houses to give you hugs and handshakes, hand you flowers and treats to give to Joel. You’re not even sure you’re supposed to be out of the house so how are you supposed to pass on these gifts? Does he know you leave the house, does he have people watching you and reporting back to him?

You wonder sometimes why you haven’t just skipped town. Part of you is pretty sure that he’d come after you and drag you back again. You’re good at surviving but you’re not an escape artist and he easily followed your clumsy trail halfway across the state last time. But the rest of you, in a bewildering state of honesty, can admit that you don’t want to go. You felt wrapped up in grief before and thought you had no chance but to run away, but you were sad to leave the safety and comfort of the Valley.

The community here provides a good, comfortable life, the people here are friendly and kind, they protect what’s theirs and look out for each other. You have a warm, soft place to rest your head and are never short on things to fill your belly. There’s a wall between you and the outside world and people who patrol that wall to keep danger on the other side. You’re safe. Things are good here, and what’s more, you are seemingly under the protection of the Alpha dog.

God, how pathetic are you that the thought of Joel being feral and insane for you is giving you comfort right now? The way people look up to him, the way they talk about him like he’s divine… you used to think it was inspiring. Then you thought it was just fodder for Joel’s ego, so self-obsessed that he raised himself up on a pedestal like a golden idol. Now, you’re ashamed to find yourself getting a contact-high off the power, dizzy with the masculine energy that radiates off him, under the spell of the dominant strength that everyone else also responds to.

In the passing weeks Joel comes back every evening with food that you know is made by Kerri and you both eat it in near-silence. You’re not foolish enough to toss it around the room and go hungry again, but you still pepper in attempts to pick a fight with him at every opportunity.

This isn’t as good as she used to make it. She must be losing her touch.

This is so salty. You’d better be careful, what with your blood pressure and all.

The rice is undercooked and the meat is overcooked. Ugh, this is barely edible.

You’re not even sure why you’re doing it, really, and you’ve definitely given it thought, since you’re left alone with nothing but your thoughts all day every day. Everytime you open your mouth and something rude comes out you wait with bated breath, wondering if that will be the thing that sets him off. Are you trying to piss him off? Are you trying to make him toss his meal at the wall? Are you trying to get him to throw you over the table again?

No, you don’t want to see that monstrous version of him show its fangs, but you’d still be entertained to get a rise out of him. He’s been like a neutered dog since he dragged you back here, letting you berate and disrespect him daily. You’d like to see him show some backbone, to have a reaction to what you’re doing. With each passing day there’s a nagging feeling at the back of your mind that tells you he doesn’t care, that he’s getting tired of your attitude, that he’s losing interest. No matter how many times you tell yourself you don’t care - the thoughts still make your mind swirl with disappointment.

Worse than that though, is the sour feeling in your stomach when you sit across from him every night and watch him eat Kerri’s food. You know it shouldn’t bother you and you know that you never even actually saw them together, but it doesn’t stop the image of their two bodies entwined from inserting itself into the forefront of your mind. Kerri cooking for your man, touching your man, fucking your man.

No, not your man. Fuck. He’s not yours, he’s anyone’s who has open, willing legs and you don’t even want him anyways. You hate him.

And yet, you can’t stop the jealousy percolating in your gut as you sit across the table and watch him shovel her cooking into his face. Finally, on the eighteenth dinner you eat together, Joel has had enough. You’re still wearing a snarky smile from the comment you’ve just made about the gravy being lumpy when he slams his palm down on the table, rattling the plates. Finally. You bite your cheek to stop your smile from growing.

“Can you stop being such a b-” he stops before he calls you the name on the tip of his tongue.

He watches your face as you react to his outburst. Your eyes go wide, your teeth peek out from your ghoulish grin. He stops himself before he can hurl the insult at you. You’re trying to get to him - you have been for weeks - and he’s been up till now able to resist your provocation. He doesn’t want to fight with you, he’s trying to be a good man and show you only the best parts of him. He’s trying to earn your love back. But goddamnit, he’s had a fucking shit day and your constant complaining isn’t making it any better.

He looks back down at his dinner and resumes eating, ignoring your comment. The gravy isn’t lumpy so you’re full of shit, you’re just being miserable because that’s your new normal. You shit all over him from the moment he gets home with dinner every night and then march upstairs and lock yourself away in his old room. Does he deserve to be punished for every shitty thing he’s done to you? Of course he does, but he was hoping you’d be willing to forgive him too. He thought he saw it in your eyes at one point that night at the summer camp, when you were remembering how you loved him once.

Why didn’t you just shoot him when you had the chance? You had the rifle aimed at his heart, all you had to do was pull the trigger. But you didn’t. Maybe you thought death would be too much of a kindness, too easy of a way out. Maybe you knew he’d come back here and face one of the most difficult springs leading this place and that having to figure out a way to slog through it would be a punishment worse than death.

That’s probably an over exaggeration - Joel knows - but sometimes he thinks he’s not cut out for this shit, for leading a community with so many moving parts. He’s the one who collects everyone’s grievances and is relied upon to find the solution for every problem, big or small. Today he got a report from the Mansfield's dairy farm - the same place you temporarily called home - that the milk output would be down this year. Joel cursed at the note sent in Hank’s own hand. The community had grown by just over ten percent from this time last year and more milk was needed, not less.

He had an afternoon meeting that gave him more bad news; one of his trusted advisors, Peter, had taken stock of his personal supplies after the long winter and found that he was running short on food to feed his large family. He and his wife had taken in 6 kids - between the ages of 7 and 17 - and he half-jokingly told Joel that they were eating him out of house and home. Peter confided that he wasn’t the only one around town who was feeling the pressure of needing this growing season to be bountiful while also acknowledging that the shorter spring was going to hinder the yields.

After the bloody night at the lakeside camp Joel got to thinking about the safety and security of the community. He’d been distracted from his priorities for far too long, and he began implementing new rules as soon as he got back. He ordered that everyone start taking inventory of their stocks and sending him reports, in addition to letting him know what their upcoming seasons looked to yield and what was needed to ensure success. He did away completely with the evening meetings, declaring it safer to have everyone back home before darkness fell. Instead, he spends all his days meeting with people at an office he set up at the town-square, or traveling all around the valley to meet with people at their homes.

Joel had the idea to set up a cafeteria-style system utilizing two old restaurants - which Kerri and Tess staffed - that works to feed residents in place of the meals everyone used to meet up for on certain evenings during the week. Most families prefer to keep their own food stocks and prepare their own meals but everyone donates to the community as a whole, and so there is the ability for anyone who doesn’t want to or doesn’t know how to cook, to get a hot meal any day of the week. The only payments accepted are - as it always is in the Valley - an exchange of goods or services.

These changes have been in effect for over two weeks but Joel is still plagued by worries for the safety of his flock, including you. He doesn’t want to have brought you back here just to put you in more danger. So it was the cherry on top of a bad day when, just as he was about to head to the cafeteria and grab food, Tess stopped by to let him know that they’d just done inventory at the armory and found less guns and ammo than they’d had at last count.

Joel remembers the promise of help you’d made to the skinny travelers you’d come across like a knife piercing his stomach. He knows they aren’t the ones raiding his armory - thanks to you - but that there are others like them out there. People desperate and willing to go to extreme lengths for survival. People who have perhaps already found their way past the Valley’s defenses.

So to say Joel is stressed today might be an understatement. Still, he doesn’t want to fight with you. He wants you to be his comfort, his shelter in the storm. He wants you to be his rock. But lately it seems as though all you want to be is the rocky coastline his ship wrecks itself against.

He stays silent the rest of the meal, not wanting to sink to your depths and get involved in another fight that ends in food all over the floor, cursing, and slamming doors. He stands to take your plate and when he sees that you’ve scraped all the perfectly good gravy off the food you ate - leaving behind a congealed puddle in the middle of your dish - he feels a twitch behind his eyeball. He’s trying to be a good man. God, he wishes he were a good man.

“If you think you could do better, I’m sure I could find you an apron around here somewhere,” he says.

He sees your smug face turn to his, lips forming a snarl just as he turns away to walk into the kitchen, and hears the scrape of your chair on the floor as you stand up. There’s a long pause and he walks slowly through the archway, waiting to see what your comeback could be, hoping since he took your plate that he left you with nothing to throw.

You feel it, the incandescent heat filling up the empty spaces inside you, alight at the way that you finally coaxed a reaction out of him. His snarky remark, his attention, his ire, focused on you. You hate how much you love it, don’t want to face how fulfilling it is that weeks of a calculated, spiteful attitude is finally paying off. And then a thought grips your heart like ice-cold claws; you still love his attention because you still love him. Then, your fists clench and your stomach coils at his repeated insinuation that you could be his dutiful little housewife, and spend your time in this house cooking and cleaning for him.

You push away the thoughts that you might hold any affection for him. You don’t love him, you hate him. He’s seen what you’re capable of, he knows who you are. You laid yourself bare to him and yet here you are, stuck in his house with no real purpose, the expectation that you’ll replace the duties of all the women he sent away. You’ll cook, you’ll clean, you’ll get on your knees. Except apparently you don’t have to cook, since Kerri’s still doing that for him. Jealousy burns you from head to toe at the thought of what else she could still be doing for him.

“You said it was just gonna be you and me,” you shout.

He turns and looks into your face, red and scowling, before looking around the room just for good measure.

“I don’t see anyone else here, do you?”

He wishes he could be a smart-ass about it but he’s genuinely confused. No one but him has even stepped foot in this house since you came back, he even makes Tess wait on the porch in the mornings. You raise your arm and point violently to the plates in his hands. He looks down. The dinner plates?

“Dinner?” he questions.

You nod your head, yes.

“But that’s just-”

You fold your arms across your chest, pouting further.

“So you don’t want another woman making me dinner?”

You shake your head, no.

“But you don’t want to make me dinner.” It’s not a question, you made the answer pretty clear already.

You answer anyways, shaking your head, no, again.

He opens his mouth to argue and then immediately shuts it. He looks down at the dinner plates, then back up at you. A moment passes as he easily realizes why your anger would be directed at Kerri. She’s not just another woman, she’s the other woman, for all intents and purposes. The one you caught him with when you thought - when he let you think - that he only had eyes for you. He did, he only wanted you, but he was also an asshole accustomed to getting what he wanted when he wanted it.

He fucked up. He broke your trust - one of the most precious things you’d ever given him - and he acted like it didn’t matter to him. If this is what you want, no more meals from Kerri, he’ll do it. He’s already told himself he’ll give you anything you want. Whatever it takes to get you back.

“Okay,” he says.

🖤

Thank you Bug and Beef for helping me with editing this beast. I love you!!

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TAGLIST @strang3lov3 @ramblers-lets-get-ramblin @covetyou @iamasaddie @sr-lrn @clawdee @theywhowriteandknowthings @beefrobeefcal @merz-8 @pinkypromisepascal @alltheseperfectimperfections @survivingandenduring @afraidtofear @millennial-teenybopper @missladym1981 @xdaddysprincessxx @lumoverheaven @ghoulettesinspace @brittmb115 @wintersquirrel @obscurexsorrows @littlevenicebitch69 @lulawantmula @pedroswife69 @joeldjarin @heimtathurss @untamedheart81 @pixielou5 @feel1n-h1gh @elegantduckturtle @koshkaj-blog @vickie5446 @lilipads @macaroni676

#devotion series #cult leader joel miller #noxturnalpascal #ofc!reader #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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kurogxrix · 2 years ago

Text

When The Time Comes ( II. )

⇀ ( I. ) ( III. )

Sully family x Sully!reader, oc x Sully!reader

IN WHICH the humans come for your father’s neck again, as you and your family fight alongside him. When the sky people come back to destroy Pandora again, will you be able to save your family and potential lover?

Warnings: Angst, desc of war, fighting & blood, CRINGE

WC: 7.5k

A/N : I forgot that they lived in the high camp…. so the start makes no sense but do we really care.

⇀

Upon entering the village, you were met with the sight of your anxiously pacing father. Your fingers were still intertwined with Mo’rata’s as the both of you came to a halt. Your mother’s piercing eyes glared at your hands, nodding her head at the man in a subtle threat.

Normally you would’ve been laughing either at her behaviour or at the boy for being a victim of her menace. Though you were mature enough to realise that now was not the time. You wouldn’t admit it to no one, but you were almost just as scared as concerned. The lights that you had spotted soaring through the sky earlier most definitely did not belong here.

Mo’rata began walking forward, dragging you alongside him as he approached your father. At the sight of your unmoving form, he knew that he had to do the first move.

You had seen something down there in the forest, something that he had not seen himself and you had to inform your father before it became a potential bigger threat. Jake approached you alongside Neytiri, his eyebrows furrowed as he looked like he was going to scold you for leaving the village without his permission once more.

“Sir, we have been warned in the forest that bad things are coming for us,” you informed your father, a similar look on your face as you spoke to him. Jake paused before you as he thought back at what Mo’at had told him a few moments prior. The Tsahik herself had told Jake that she had been receiving visions, warnings by Eywa herself. Now having you warn him too was like a green light to inaugurating a war.

Attacks from the sky people were not rare. In fact, they were so frequent and effortless to terminate that they did not even require that big of a warriors group. This time, there were way too many warnings to ignore. The clan always lived in an unspoken fear that another war like the first one would resurface. Destroying their new homes and families.

“Fine,” Jake said with closed eyes, rubbing his temples with his thumb and index finger to soothe his aching head. Neteyam and Lo’ak stood behind their father as they awaited his orders. It was no surprise to you when you looked up to see Lo’ak with an excited look on his face at the thought of finally fighting in the front lines. You rolled your eyes at your younger brother.

When Jake opened his eyes again, he was not only met with the sight of his two sons, but the whole clan awaiting their Olo’eyktan’s signal. He sighed as he knew that the first war was still a healing wound for many of the people. As a leader, he was forced to accept the damage and move on, think of a future for his clan and forget its past. Accepting was a part of moving on, denying was a step back.

“Ready yourself for battle! We all approach through our Ikrans tonight, go get ready, we depart in 20 minutes.” he yelled at the large body of na’vis. With a grin on your face, you watched as the people moved swiftly to ready themselves, exhibiting their loyalty to the clan. You pushed your way through the crowd as Mo’rata’s hand left yours, though this was too important for you to care at the moment.

Neytiri’s eyes met yours, and for a second she wanted to stop her children from joining in. Only now, she knew that she could not stop you guys. You had matured and grown from the cowardly little children that you once were and now it was time for you to step foot into the real world.

You moved towards your sisters, kneeling down before Tuk as you gave her a sloppy kiss on her cheek. She giggled wildly before ‘Ew-ing’ at your slobbery kiss. Her laughter was short-lived as her face dropped, she knew that there was a chance that her family may never return. She had seen it with her own eyes when one of her friends, Vutey, had lost his father. He was a hunter and Eywa had concluded his fate during his latest hunt.

She remembers watching Vutey crying in the comfort of his mothers arms, who she was sobbing alongside her only child.

Nevertheless, she gave you one last tight hug before you moved to your other sister. Kiri smiled at you before dipping two of her fingers in the coconut bowl that she held in her left hand. Out came a colourful paste that would later adorn your face. You closed your eyes as Kiri began tracing patterns on your skin with the paste, which made you shudder at the weirdly cold feeling.

Soon enough, she had finished half of your face. She dipped her fingers back in the half empty bowl, bringing it back to your face to finish your warrior’s face paint. Though it was short-lived before a third party had ripped you away from your sister, urging you by the arm. Kiri couldn’t be less unbothered, rolling her eyes and moving on to the next person.

You however, were ready to glare daggers at whoever had come to disrupt you in your little moment. You were not ready for that person being Mo’rata however..

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked you, his nonexistent eyebrows creasing as he spoke. You raised yours at his odd question, feeling the tension grow because of his little attitude problem.

“Uhh I was getting ready? What are you doing, messing up my face paint and all…” you scoffed, murmuring-loudly the last part as a petty attempt for him to hear it. You tried to walk away from Mo’rata and whatever childish tantrum he was throwing right now, rubbing the messed up part of the paste on your face with your fingers. The tight grip that Mo’rata had on your arm however would not allow you to move any further.

“No way in hell are you going to fight, not like that..”

“Not like how? You’re not my fucking father Mo’rata. Get off my back.” You hissed at him, and perhaps - just perhaps, you shouldn’t have been so hostile. You didn’t blame yourself though because who the hell was he to tell you what to do and what not? His behaviour did its best to displease you and his grip refused to falter.

“You cannot even hold your bow properly!” He hissed back, gritting his teeth as you were really starting to infuriate him. He was just worried, he was deathly worried for you. Though he was way too much of a stoic man with a great pride to admit that to you. To admit that he cared about you, he cared more than he thought he could.

He didn’t want you to partake in this battle because he feared the thought of losing you. The past few months that you guys have hung out together has been the only time he’s ever been as happy as this, even though his face didn’t really show it.

“You’ll be useless on the battlefield! You dare to even call yourself a warrior but you cannot do a thing as simple as wield your weapon correctly,” he paused, looking at you through half-lidded eyes. He hates the way that fierce look on your face falls, and he hates that he’s the reason for it.

“An excuse of a Sully that you call yourself, maybe you should sit back here and wonder why your father favours your ‘golden’ brother. Ever wonder why you don’t know how to aim, maybe you should ask you precious little dad, i’m sure he was having a blast teaching his favourite so-“ Mo’rata was cut off by an unforeseen shove from you. His spiteful words were hurting every inch deep of your body and you tried to conceal it by showing your anger towards him instead.

In the spite of that, he noticed the hurt that showed on your face before you reverted to a hostile expression. He could still see it on your face as you held him tightly by the base of his necklace, the same one you had crafted for him. He hated how the damage of his words was still so evident, practically radiating off of you. But that’s what he wanted after all right? to hurt you. To rupture through that pride of yours to get you to stay here, safe and sound.

Although he wished for it to push you away from the war, it only seemed to push you further away from him.

You glared at him for a second before shaking your head with a scoff, backing away a few steps before looking back at him. You knew how he viewed Neteyam, you knew how everyone viewed your brother. Neteyam was everything that you were not, responsible and obedient. Though you didn’t want to be like Neteyam, you never wanted to abide by the rules or whatnot.

When you had met Mo’rata, he was the only person that did not constantly remind you of how you were expected to be the golden child. How your name brought shame upon your family because of your misconduct. Though he would always tease you, it was nothing ever real until now.

“Well you know what, fuck you and what you think of me. I’ll show you that I'm a real warrior!” you flashed him the two of your middle fingers, and he huffed at you. He did not know of the real meaning behind these signs, but you had shown it to him before during a few of your banters. So he knew that they were somewhat scornful.

He quickly realises what you have said, his brain was in a buzz from everything that’s been happening recently. He attempts to reach for you as you leave, but he could only watch as you slipped away from his fingers and back into the chaotic crowd. His fiery expression sunk for a second as he was left with the crumbs of your last argument.

Once your ikran had left the ground, you had tried your best to rid your mind of any thoughts about Mo’rata. Being lost in your emotions right now would only distract you from your mission, and a lack of concentration on the battlefield was oftentimes lethal.

Your Ikran followed closely behind Neteyam’s and Lo’ak’s, who were busy arguing about something you couldn’t care less about. As their older sister, you’ve always had the urge to protect them. You had a strong feeling like today was the day that you’d finally prove yourself worthy of being their older sibling.

Not that they didn’t believe you weren’t, it was quite the opposite.

It didn’t take much more than 5 minutes of flying for you guys to find the group of humans that were posing a threat to your clan. They were so close to the village, so close to the Hallelujah mountains. Your eyes widened at the sight of their technology. Huge killer machines that both resided on the ground and in the sky.

Huge metal junks that were brought here in the sole purpose of destroying and polluting your wonderland. The sound of a war cry had broken you off of your train of thoughts and all of the elders dived down to take action. You told your ikran to speed up as you overtook your brothers that were still arguing. They turned their head at the sound of a third pair of wings flapping beside them, but then shuddered at the ‘if you mess this up, i’ll kill the both of you’ kind of look that you gave them before diving down yourself.

Lo’ak broke into a cold sweat as he thought of the last time you had given him a good sibling’s beating for nearly harming Tuk as he took her out of the camp and out into the deep forest. You knew that your idiot brother was just like you, carefree, young and dumb at times. Though there were times where Lo’ak couldn’t tell the difference between a good time and an actual danger warning, so you and your father were here to remind him.

You wasted no time dismounting your ikran as its firm legs grazed the floor. You grabbed the spear that was attached to the ikran’s leather harness, throwing it through the back of a confused human’s skull with no hesitation. The communication collar that connected your father and brother to you buzzed before you heard the deep voice of your father. He informed the both of you that this was no fight against Quaritch, thankfully. You had heard too many stories about this menace of a man, stories from your great warriors of parents. Nevertheless, he broke the bad news to you, telling you that you were indeed fighting against one of Miles’ acquaintance’s team.

You allowed yourself to be distracted for a moment by the voice of your father, almost costing you your life as a sky demon aimed his weapon at you. A thanator abruptly came out from the bushes behind the man, catching the both of you off guard as it slammed its heavy body into the human and its considerable machine. You took this as an opportunity to run, grabbing the bow and arrows of a fallen soldier - just in case you would need it along the way.

As much as you tried to forget what Mo’rata had told you, his words could only echo in the back of your head. So you’d rather be safe than sorry, even if you weren’t the best at archery. You’d make sure to honour the valiant fallen soldier later on, silently thanking him for his devotion.

You looked around you and couldn’t spot any familiar faces, your mother and father must’ve been on different sides than you and your brothers. Your brothers, you suddenly remembered. Where the hell were they? had something happened to the both of them?

Endless questions ran through your head as you had been body slammed by one of the men, courtesy of your distracted mind once more. His hands pushed your head back harshly as you both fell to the ground, slamming your head severely on the dirty ground. You gasped for air as your back hit the ground, using your long legs to push off the man that had fallen above you. His much smaller body flew a few feet away before hitting the ground once again. He coughed and spat blood as he felt his body burning from the impact.

When you had approached him, the sun had darkened your figure upon his vision. In his hazy state, he could’ve thought that you were an angel coming at his rescue. You glowed and shaded him temporarily from the war. However, the spear that had impaled his torso shortly after had proved him wrong, executing him immediately.

The fall had caused you to injure the back of your head, the small wound that was open as the back of your head leaked with blood, matching the dead man before you.

You lifted your spear up as the man’s body accompanied it. Your indifferent yellow eyes watched as his blood dripped down the handle of your spear, smearing the crimson liquid all over your fingers. They had no sense of empathy towards your people, so why should you?

Your brothers, you had remembered, flinging the useless man’s body to the side as you picked up the pace.

You heard the buzzing again, this time you did not pause when your fathers voice erupted from the device. The last time you did, it had almost cost you your life.

“Y/N, Neteyam. I need both of you to tell everyone else to evacuate right now!” he ordered the both of you, and at first when you had not heard your brother’s voice responding, your heartbeat had picked up its pace. You flinched as the body of a human soldier came flying towards you, dodging it just in time. You looked incredulously at the na’vi that had flung it, murmuring a quick apology under his breath before returning to battle.

“Why's that, sir?” Neteyam defied his father, well not really. He was just curious. You felt your heart physically relax at the voice of your baby brother. You could tell that Lo’ak was safe too, because neteyam had not said anything yet.

“The man we’re fighting is an ex-marine. Alban is his name and I….I know him, he’s no easy target. The na’vi will only get themselves killed so I need the both of you to please warn them. Tell them to find refuge at the Tree of souls.” you frowned as you heard the despair in your father’s voice, you couldn’t imagine how stressed he felt right now.

“We’re coming to fight with you,” the voice of your youngest brother broke the loud-silence. He was talking through Neteyam’s device, and by the lack of response that you both received from him - you could tell that he agreed with his younger brother.

Your ears picked up on the subtle sound of denial that Jake had let out. “You are not, do you understand this son? It is far too dangero-“

“You’ve always told us that Sully’s stick together, so why contradict yourself now? Pull yourself together, we’re coming soon.” You said and Jake could only sigh at his oldest children. You were hard headed and Neteyam was strong willed. Fighting with the both of you through the tiny device that laid across his throat was like talking to brick wall

“Fine,” he groaned “but make sure to warn everyone before, or i’ll make it my personal mission to skin the both of you alive when we get back home.”

You had found yourself lost among the chaos, people were running all over the place. Either carrying other na’vis or running back to their ikrans. Your siblings and you were ordering everyone that had made it back alive to grab unto their injured comrades and flee to the spiritual tree.

This was your family’s battle to fight. Your father had always felt responsible for the events of the Home Tree, because he had been part of the destructive project before he had fallen in love with your mother. Although he was still trying to repent to this day, you guys were a family and as your father always says ; ‘Sully's stick together’. If he was fighting this battle, then so were you, your brothers and your mother. Your sisters were helping too, just not on the battlefield.

“Go, go back to the Tree of souls. The healers await you there.” You told the passing na’vis. Your Ikran was somewhere behind you as it waited for you to join it again. There was a slight dust storm going on around you from all of the Ikrans suddenly departing, and soon the dust had settled down again.

There was a singular figure left and even from afar, you could recognize the na’vi from thousands. His scars and uneven hair gave him away. He had seemed to have noticed you too, because he was clearly staring straight at you. Then, your eyes casted downwards towards the new litter of fresh wounds that covered his torso. They were nothing to worry about, probably would just leave faint scars with a residue of dried up scabs to pick at.

Despite the argument that you had earlier and all of the things that he had said to you, you had never been happier to see him. Happiness was surely a feeling that you felt when you were anywhere near him. He was alive and well, standing right before you. The look in his eyes said so much more than he could even verbalise. They spoke to you from afar, telling you how sorry he was, they told you how much he cared about you.

With no hesitation, you ran forward towards him. You used his shoulders as supports to stabilise yourself as you raised to your tip-toes, thrashing your cheek against his in a loving caress. He allowed himself to melt in your touch, rubbing the side of his face with yours too like two cats in love. His hands found a home at the curve of your waist, just like his heart had found a home within you.

You moved your head to look him in the eyes, and he softened at the memory of what he had said earlier.

“I’m sorry for wha-“

“I’ve already forgiven you, long ago,” you cut him off, making that cheshire grin reappear on his face. Although it quickly left as your face fell suddenly. You truly wanted to stay mad at him for longer, maybe even for as long as he walked on this land. Though you did know what was to ensue from this battle, so you wished that your last moments with him would be spent through forgiveness and adoration.

“You must return to the sacred tree, the healers are waiting for your return.” You tell him as you look towards anywhere but him. He notices your distraught look and raises a hand to cup the side of your jaw, turning your head gently to look at him.

You felt your heart halt at the look that he was giving you, your lungs felt like they were failing you. His eyes stirred between your lips and the rest of your features. Shifting from the way your ears flickered at his sudden attention, to the way your nose twitched slightly from all of the stray dust that flew around the both of you.

He leaned in, and his intentions were not really clear to you. You had an idea of what he desired, and such thought made you giddy with delight. You both allowed yourselves to pretend like nothing bad was happening to your homeland at the moment. You allowed yourself to feel safe within his presence, and so did he.

He tilted his head to the side as his eyes met yours again. The smile that formed from the little giggle that you let out fed his heart with so much bliss. Like a child being allowed to go down to the rivers for the first time.

He leaned down more and stopped before you, wondering if maybe it was inappropriate to do this at such a time. It was, truly, but when had you ever cared about such a minor dilemma. You leaned into him, finishing what he had started as your lips moulded into his.

Mo’rata’s ears raised as you kissed him. Though his eagerness was short lived as you pulled away, hiding behind your hand as you laughed away shyly. He relished in the few seconds that he got of his lips on yours, the need to jump around like a little girl was very much present in his bones and it made him want to grind up his own skeleton structure up at the thought.

He had never kissed anyone before, but he was elated that you were his first. In his heart, you'd always be the only one. If anything were to happen to you, he promised himself that he would rather rip his own heart out than love another.

The hand that was still present on your jaw rubbed loving circles into your cheeks, reminding you of your mother’s touch. You leaned into his palm, looking up at him with loving eyes. You had learned to find a second home within Mo’rata. He was your escape, the pillar that you leaned on when you desperately needed support.

“You make me feel weird things.” Mo’rata grumbled as you picked up on it. He was smiling, for the first time in his life (that you had seen) and your eyes widened, pupil’s expanding as you stared at the rare sight across of you.

“You’re smiling! You’re smiling because of me?!” you beamed, laughing violently as you two forgot about the war currently going on from behind the two of you. Mo’rata’s smile suddenly fell as he scowled, removing his hands from your waist and jaw to cross them grumpily across his chest.

The gesture only made you laugh harder, tears trickling in your eyes as you wiped them away with the back of your hands. He smiled again at your carefreeness, this time much more teasingly.

“You must return to me whole, or else I'll personally bring you back just to kill you again.” he threatened and for a moment there, it sounded almost too real. The fact that he was smiling cockily at you while threatening you truly made this scene unforgettable. You chuckled at him, before backing away from the intimidating looking man . You felt empty without his presence near you, but you had much more important things to worry about right now.

The sound of Lo’ak calling your name cut you out of your trance, but before you left, you called out for Mo’rata once more. He was busy climbing his Ikran when he heard your call, instinctively turning back to your voice. You had one of those goofy grins plastered on your face, one that told him not to worry about you too much.

“I’ll make sure to kick those demon’s asses!” you shouted and he rolled his eyes, the slight smile on his face told you that it was inoffensive. If you had had this conversation a few months prior, he would’ve probably called you names and deeming you the demon amongst many other things. Now, however, he saw you as an equal. No matter if you had 5 fingers or eyebrows, he found your special features endearing.

He laughed to himself once more, before flying off on his Ikran. Now, he could only pray to Eywa to keep you safe in her hands.

Blood was pouring out of your wound unceasingly, but the aching pain that you felt right now was the least of your concerns. You had not even turned away for two minutes, tending to Mo’rata’s soaring heart, and your brothers were nowhere in sight. Perhaps you had been too blinded by love to realise the calls of your father through the tiny microphone. Neither your father or brother were responding to your desperate calls and you had no idea why.

You felt as thought you had already scouted the whole of the Pandora forest thrice. You were lost amongst the forest, and you wanted nothing more than to escape the place you called a home. The bioluminescent beauty that oftentimes calmed you could only infuriate you now. You were making no progress whatsoever and you felt a tinge of guilt at the thought of harming the All-Mother’s creation to find your family.

Your hand reached up to the communication device once more, the other hand holding you up on your ikran. You could feel that she was just as exhausted as you were, as well as her shuddering breaths. You pressed on the buttons of the human-device before calling out to your father, again and again and again. You called out for your brother, your mother, to no avail. There was no one to respond to your calls, and you had never felt more defeated in your entire life.

The wound that was still very much open on the back of your head was beginning to tire you out, and your legs were starting to ache from the amount of time that you were spending on your ikran. You pressed on the buttons again, in an attempt to be useful. You wanted to give yourself some kind of hope that your family was still there and alive, but it was hard to believe as more time passed.

The open gash at the back of your head was begging to tire you out. Your legs were aching from the amount of time that you had spent riding your ikran. You knew that you could not give up now, because how could you go back home to your family after this? You had never been a cowardly child, always filled with the adventurous need to explore. Though as you stood exhausted on the flying animal, you had never been more terrified.

How could you go back to your grandmother, all wound up and alone afterwards. How could you announce to her that her only remaining daughter was now dancing in Nirvana alongside her sister. How could you rip the young Tuk’s heart apart and steal yet another family from Kiri? You were not sure that you were capable of doing it now, or any other time.

After too many failed attempts at reaching for your father, you had stopped addressing him like you normally did. The military honorifics felt bitter on your tongue and you urged yourself to swallow the rising bile. You had called him by his parental name, because at the moment, you weren’t searching for Jake Sully nor Toruk Makto. You were calling out for your father, the same father that had watched you grow for the past 18 years. The same father that had grown emotionally distant as you grew up, and the same father that you would continue to love nevertheless.

He too, from afar could only wish for the same. He could only wish to hold his daughter one more time in his arms as he told her that everything was ok. Because it wasn’t. Alban currently had one of his muscular arms wrapped around the middle of your father’s neck, pressing harshly against his adam’s apple. His failed attempts at escaping the demon’s hold was to be deemed pathetic. He, the Olo’eyktan and leader of the Omatikaya, couldn’t even outfight a simple man. .

Neytiri bared her canines at the pale man, a venomous hiss escaping her throat. She didn’t cower or submit the man’s threats, standing her ground as she hovered a hand over her son’s protectively. Alban pointed his weapon towards your mother and siblings, finger resting on the trigger. He shot a bullet in between Neteyam and Neytiri, barely missing your brother’s arm. Neytiri’s ears flattened and for a moment, her posture faltered. How could you put a mother in this position? Making her choose between her mate or her children. It was obvious as to whom she would choose in the end, as a mother, her duty was to protect her children.

She couldn’t help the surge of guilt that had creeped its way into her heart as she watched her husband struggle. She felt frustrated tears trickle in her round eyes as she pushed her body closer to sons, protecting them from the gun’s nose.

You were still missing and your father was literally getting asphyxiated, give the woman a poor rest. She had already lost so many things prior. Her sister, her father and her past home, watching Jake's poor attempt at fighting back had rendered her heartbroken. He was lacking air as his own sons watched their father slowly dissipating in front of them.

She could hear you through your father’s collar, asking where they were. Dramatically asking every second for their whereabouts and if they were still there. Neytiri’s heart twisted at her distressed daughter. She felt as though you were mutilating her own heart as she heard the wavering of your voice, the fragileness in your tone. She could only imagine the thoughts that were passing through your head at the moment.

Jake was not ready to go, not yet. He had yet to do so many things that he should’ve done years ago. He had yet to tell his youngest son that he was proud of him too, he had yet to tell you that he saw you too and not just Neteyam. He thought about how much admiration his eldest son held towards him, then about his two daughters that were awaiting his return back at the camp.

Seconds felt like hours and Jake was slowly turning more and more purple as the time passed. Your mother and brothers felt like their worlds were being ripped away from them as they stood defenceless.

Jake's eyes began to falter and the shaky arm that held the weapon would not falter under exhaustion. Neytiri’s cries could be heard across the entire forest at this point and Lo’ak sobbed harder at the sight of his family breaking in the midst of war. He was one of the few people who did not hate sky people in his family, but in the moment he had wanted nothing but for them all to be gone.

Neytiri’s dampened eyes shifted back towards the sky demon’s face before her own contorted to one of stupor. Blood dribbled from his slightly open mouth, crimson liquid dripping down onto her unconscious husband’s head. His eyes were voiced of any life, in contrast to the deathly soldier that she had encountered earlier. Suddenly, he fell to his side as he brought Jake along with him, lifting a cloud of dust around the both of them.

Neteyam wasted no time sprinting towards his father, as his mother and brother were too caught up in puzzlement. One second ago he had been fighting fiercely against the Olo’eyktan and the next, he was lying coldly against the forest floor. Neteyam shoved the human’s hand away from his father’s neck, checking for a pulse as he laid his fingers against his neck.

Neytiri followed closely behind her son, thrashing her cheek out upon his chest - checking for a sign of life.

She cried once more, though this time the tears that covered her cheeks had not been in anguish. She bawled, crying out her gratitude towards the Great Mother for having given her mate another day to live. He would not die tonight, not when he was in the hands of the All-Mother. His heart was still beating, slowly but mighty pulses.

She checked his body for any major wounds, though her heart skipped a beat at the puddle of blood that surrounded her husband. She lifted him instantly, her eyes widening at the shallow arrow wound that ran along his back - where he had been held against the human. The blood did not belong to Jake, she could smell the difference and her nose scrunched up in disgust.

She carefully moved her husband’s head unto her oldest son’s lap before moving before the human. She looked back at Alban’s chest, and there it laid. The sharp arrow that had struck right through his back. It had sliced its way right through the left side of his upper chest, impaling his heart as it stuck halfway out of his frontal. He drowned in his own repulsive blood, bathing Jake in it as well.

She was confused at first, but the sound of some quiet sobs had told her everything that she needed to know. She looked back and past where Alban previously sat kneeled, seeing as her youngest son was no longer behind her, but hugging your sobbing frame. You held your brother tighter than you had ever held him. Her eyes dragged down to the unfamiliar bow that laid besides your feet, long forgotten as you found yourself lost in the comfort of your brother’s embrace.

Her heart soared at the memory of you painful pleading cries when Jake was locked in a chokehold, without your knowledge. They were unable to respond to you at the moment, because of the gun that had been aimed at them. Neytiri stood up, now knowing that her husband was still alive and breathing.

She engulfed you in a much needed hug upon arrival, tightening her home around you as you

sobbed harder. Your tears ran down your face, soaking your mother’s weaved top. The last time you had cried to her like this, you had been around Tuk’s age. Upset because a boy had been bothering you during an excursion, frustrating tears ran down your cheeks right as you had breached your tent’s doors. You had found comfort in your mother’s embrace that night, just as you had just done. Because nothing in this world could replace a mothers comfort.

In the corner of your eyes, you had noticed your father that laid upon Neteyam’s lap. He looked relieved, warm and content as his gaze fell upon you. You allowed yourself to relax into your mother’s shoulder as you knew that your family was still alive and complete. Neytiri felt you relaxing in her arms as she used a hand to wipe the stray tears that stuck to your skin.

“That’s all thanks to you, my daughter.” Neytiri said to you, eyes full of love and adoration for her daughter. You had ran away so many times before, and sometimes, you had wished of losing your way. Wishing that your path led you to a new beginning, a new home amongst the lands of Pandora. But before that, you had been an angsty teen that found a home in freedom.

Tonight, your sole wish was to go back home. In the comfort of your favourite people, safe and sound in the clan.

As you reached the Tree of Souls, you dismounted your ikran before it flew away to rest somewhere nearby. You were beyond exhausted and your legs were begging for a rest. The new collection of wounds that littered your skin would make a great scar story for your future offsprings.

You held onto the back of your head as a burning feeling had replaced the simple aching overtime. The vegetation around the tree gave a calming hue that you could handle for now, any brighter and you were sure to rip your eyeballs out with your own fingers.

The rest of the Omatikaya had gathered before you, everyone that had been ordered to seek refuge at the tree. They watched as you wobbled slightly on your painfully aching legs, one by one, they greeted you with the Oel ngati kameie (i see you) hand sign. You, their mighty saviour. You, Y/N Sully, the saviour of the Omatikaya clan.

The words spread at an inhumane pace amongst the clan because it had not even been 5 minutes that you had arrived, and they were already praising your exploits.

Your blazing yellow eyes shifted between the numerous Na’vi men and woman that stood in front of you. Without wasting more time, your legs moved on their own to bring you to wherever they could manage to bring you. The more you advanced through the crowd, the people were moving out of the way to create a path for you. Greeting you with the same welcoming symbol.

You didn’t necessarily appreciate the attention but you surely liked being appreciated for your bravery and success. This felt like a little much though.

Your long stride had come to a dead end as a single person had not dispersed amongst the crowd. The people watched him from the sidelines, insulting glares being sent towards his way from every side.

There he stood in front you, in all of his shinning glory. His sweaty skin glistened amongst the glowing flowers of the forest as his freckles joined in the mix. Your eyes softened at the mere sight of him.

“You saved my father’s life back there. If it wasn’t for you, I would've probably missed my shot.” you told him, thanking him before the clan and Eywa for his service.

Your family had arrived shortly behind you, watching your interaction with the Na’vi from behind you. They had also received the same treatment from the people. Your father was back, despite a little wobbly on his feet and slightly still dazed, he was here nevertheless. You had all awaited his awakening before leaving to seek the rest of the clan. He was confused when his whole family pounced on him at his rise, but he was happy nevertheless.

Your family had praised you, alongside your brothers for your undeniable bravery. You could’ve started sobbing again when your father had audibly voiced out his proudness towards you. He hugged you again, like the both of you had wished for during the times of chaos. Neytiri felt her heart momentarily ache at the sight of her all grown daughter. She could’ve sworn that just yesterday she was rocking you to sleep as a newborn.

“That was all you, You wielded the bow, and you released the arrow. Be proud of yourself, little warrior.” He teased you, even at a time like this. You smiled at him, happy that he was still himself after all of these events. He praised your accomplishments before the clan. Deeming you a worthy warrior, contrary to what he had told you before the fight.

Neytiri’s heartache was short lived as a feeling of pride swaddled her heart. You were an independent woman now and when she looked into your eyes, she could see herself years prior. She looked at Mo’rata before glancing back at her family, which were all looking at you with the biggest grins ever plasterer on their faces.

“You need to embarrass yourself purposely infront of Iri’me tomorrow if something happens between them here and there!” Spider attempted to whisper to Lo’ak but failed miserably as the said Iri’me turned to glare at them from the crowd.

Neteyam averted his gaze from the angry woman as he pretended to yawn. Open his arms widely behind him before slapping his ‘brother’ across the back of his head.

“Shut up skxawng! plus we aaaaaall know that something is gonna’ happen. Cmon look at him, he’s literally eye fu-“ Lo’ak started, before getting put back in his place by Kiri.

Kiri beamed as Mo’rata extended his arm towards you, fine muscles flexing at his every move. His hand opens as he held his open palm out for you to grab. You tilted your head to the side in cluelessness and jake held back the urge to facepalm at his daughter’s obliviousness. As much as your dad was sceptical of the Na’vi in front of you, he told himself that it was better to watch you accept Mo’rata’s potential courtship instead of another random na’vi.

He knew that you had fallen for the fierce warrior, and he knew that so did Mo’rata with you. He could recognize the looks in your eyes within thousands of others, because he had lived through with Neytiri.

Despite the bitter look on his face, Jake was just as proud of you. He knew how much the weight of your duties had affected you during all of your youth but you had matured now. You accepted your duties as a part of life and understood that there was no reason for you to feel overwhelmed,

because your family was always there for you, and they’ll always continue to be there.

A random woman from behind you had noticed your hesitation as she curtly pushed you forward, having you end up straight in the Na’vi’s arms. He couldn’t help but stare straight into your eyes, because despite the hundreds of similar ones that surrounded him at the moment, he’s never found ones that were just as mesmerising as yours.

You put your hands across his chest to stabilise yourself as you stared right back into his eyes, feeling so much fondness for the man you once considered an enemy.

Both your ears flickered at the sight of an Atokirina' floating down towards you two, before it settled for floating between the two of you. His gaze turned back to you as he watched you observe the Woodsprite. In a split second, an army of Woodsprites engulfed the two of you in their floating antics. Causing Mo’rata to slightly back away in surprise.

You knew what this meant, so did he and so did everyone around the both of you. Eywa had spoken and she had chosen to do it infront of the many people.

You nearly lost your footing at the loud cheering, you eyes circled the whole clan as you looked back at your future mate once more. Placing two finger near your forehead before lowering them towards the intimidating looking man.

“I see you..” you smiled before letting out a curt laugh at Mo’rata.

For the first time in Eywa knows how long, the clan watched as the Na’vi cracked a small smile towards his lover, reciprocating the hand gesture.

“I see you, ii’yu” (darling)

Your hand reached to his before slipping your fingers between his very own, raising them before the people. In the corner of your eyes had you spotted your lovely family. Your siblings all waved to you guys as little Tuk jumped up and down from sheer joy for you. Your parents simply smiled warmly at you, and you were quite surprised to see your father smiling despite Mo’rata’s presence.

After all, Eywa had spoken and when the time comes, you will rule the Omatikaya as their Tsahik, alongside Mo’rata as the Olo’eyktan.

tags: @neteyamforlife @ssc7514 @iloveavatar @killinqpills @ilovejakesullysdick @liyahsocorro @sujekie @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @miawastakens @onlytays @junnniiieee07 @mashiromochi

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devilfic · 9 months ago

Text

❝honeymoon❞

III. on the clock.

parts: previously / next plot: your mother has been conducting business with some pretty shady business partners and it puts you in danger. thankfully, saving you is in your husband's job description. pairing: battinson!bruce wayne x gn!reader. cw: arranged marriage, friends to enemies to (fake) lovers, implied history between reader and bruce, violence, bruce being a little Bossy, use of the gender neutral honorific "mx" (feel free to insert mr. or mrs. there if you like). words: 2.1k.

a/n: been watching a bit of supergirl lately and I'm a big fan of the "supergirl is lena's scary guard dog" dynamic they've got going on. got inspired

You suck in a breath between barely parted lips before the smoke hits you in a cloud. Thick, pungent. You hold your breath even as the smoke tickles your eyes, makes them water, until it clears and all you're left with is the bastard sitting across from you, "I understand that it might be... upsetting to hear, but Wayne Enterprises thanks you for all you've done during our partnership."

Cigar hanging from the jaws of a wolf, Mr. Carpinelli is hardly upset. He's grinning around the head of his cigar when he tells you, "You're making a big fucking mistake." He's furious.

You keep your head held high, "Again, I deeply apologize for how abrupt this must be. As acting CEO, I have had to make some tough decisions in the past but this is by far one of the toughest." You bite the lie out, appearing sweet and docile. "You were one of our best. We will be looking forward to all Carpinelli & Sons' future business ventures."

You hear the hacking in his throat before it lands on the ground in front of your feet: a fat, muddy glob of spit sits a (thankful) hair away from your shoe, and even you can't bother to hide your scowl.

You let him smoke in your (Bruce's) office. You let him kick his feet up on your desk. You even let him have some of the good brandy, and watched him gobble it up like four ounces of the stuff didn't cost the full price of his pretty snakeskin shoes.

And he spit at you.

Mr. Carpinelli stands to his feet and puts his cigar out on your desk and really, that should have did it for you, but you bite your tongue until you taste blood. Then he points one fat finger at you, about as fat as the Corojo burning a ring in your desk, "Tell your bitch of a mother she should've told me herself."

"My bitch of a mother didn't give the order," and your venom is not on behalf of your mother, lest anyone be mistaken, "I did."

Something flickers in Carpinelli's eyes. Without another word, he leaves the office in a flourish, and you sink back into your chair only when your ears cease ringing.

Bruce is delighted. Or you think he might be. You weren't certain what delight looked like on him these days, but the solid "OK" in response is enough for you to focus on your shaking. You remind yourself that you're not out of the woods yet, and that Carpinelli was only one half of the dastardly duo you needed to break up. Eventually, or rather, imminently, she would find out what you'd done. It'd be better to break the news in person before she got word from Carpinelli herself.

But Bruce approved. Bruce, who'd been on the same page as you when you'd brought up the idea, who'd left you in less despair than when he'd found you, agreed with you. Your mother be damned and damned should she be, you at least had Bruce on your side.

You step out into humidity and immediately one of the doormen flanks you, rushing to open your car door for you with a "Goodnight, Mx. Wayne" and a "get home safe" that goes in one ear and out the other. You just barely have the wits about you to return the pleasantry, climbing into the backseat of your car with your hand halfway to the collar of your coat when you freeze.

Across from you is Mr. Carpinelli, smiling around another cigar. How the smell of it hadn't hit you when you first sat down was far beyond you. The car jerks into Gotham city traffic without a hitch. A glance in the rear-view tells you that this is not your usual driver.

You're trying really hard to not let this get to you.

"I forgot to say before: congratulations on the nuptials."

"The wedding hasn't happened yet."

Carpinelli raises an eyebrow, "But you still make the help call you Wayne?"

"Can I help you with something, Mr. Carpinelli?" It takes some hidden strength in you to keep the shake out of your voice, "Perhaps I wasn't clear enough before?"

The mob boss stretches his leg until his foot is pressing into the bottom of your seat, those same pretty snakeskin shoes marred by mucky rainwater. You turn your knees away but feel the water drip onto your ankle. You resist the severe urge to drive an ice pick through his skull.

"I called your mommy after our little conversation," your blood runs cold, "and she told me to disregard your little... power trip." He blows a ring of smoke, "So no bad blood here."

"Did she, now?"

"Mhm. Seemed pretty pissed, too. Hope she doesn't ground ya."

"You seem to think it's her name on the building."

"It ain't yours."

"Yet."

Carpinelli laughs, brushing some ash onto the carpet, "Funny. How that works." And he sits up, crouching in front of you with his cigar raised above your knee. His other hand clutches it in his meaty palm. His cigar is close enough to the skin that you can feel the heat coming off of it, all the while struggling against suffocating on the smoke. Your phone is in your coat pocket and there'd be no way to discreetly get to it with him this close. "Listen, doll. I'm doing this as a courtesy. I don't usually give people the chance to piss me off twice."

The panic button in all Wayne Enterprises vehicles is under the seat, however.

Carpinelli keeps talking and you take your hands out of your lap, leaning forward and feigning that you're listening. All the while, your fingers are stretching under the seat, searching for that little, tiny, infinitesimal-

The car rocks violently as something heavy lands on top of it with a thud. It shocks Carpinelli enough that he lets your knee go, turning his head up to the ceiling, "What the fuck was that?"

The driver knows just as much as the two of you do. You feel him jerk the car straight, but before he can pull over to check what made the sound, a fist punches through the roof of the car.

It's enough to make Carpinelli fall over like a bumbling buffoon.

He doesn't get very long to collect himself. The metal of the roof is being torn back, making an ugly sound as the hole gets bigger. You manage to locate the panic button just in time to see a hand reach down into the car and grip Carpinelli by the front of his suit and... and snatch him out.

The driver nearly crashes the car into a building trying to pull to a stop, fumbling futilely for the handgun at his side, but another hole is punched into the roof above his head and he's dragged out just as dramatically as Carpinelli.

Before you can be stolen too, you crawl to the front and unlock the car before throwing your full weight against the door to escape.

Outside, you find the driver splayed out on the sidewalk, out cold. On the street, Carpinelli is crawling away on all fours from... your husband. In all his caped glory.

"I-I didn't do nothing! I swear!" Carpinelli cries. You watch, however, as Bruce plods up to him. He ignores his pleas for mercy and yanks him up by the collar once more. Carpinelli's feet dangle inches off the ground.

"Who'd you pay off?" Bruce's voice barely carries over the noise of the city, but you hear it from where you're crouched behind the car.

"Wh... what? What are you talking about?" Bruce violently shakes Carpinelli and you watch as the smaller man grips at his arm for dear life. "I swear to God, I got no idea what you're talking about!"

"Your driver. Not your car. Who did you pay off?"

Carpinelli's eyes are wild. You've never seen true fear like that before, "Nobody! Nobody. My guy stole the keys and badge off the other driver. That's all!" When Bruce doesn't immediately release him, the mob boss keeps squealing, "T-The driver's in the boiler room. Knocked out cold. He's not dead. I promise."

Seconds might as well be minutes as you and Carpinelli hold your breaths. Waiting for the Batman's judgment.

Bruce yanks Carpinelli toward the car, rams his head into the trunk, and lets the unconscious mob boss roll under the boot.

After a few stuttered breaths, you stand to your feet.

Bruce doesn't raise his head from where he'd been staring down Carpinelli, but his eyes flit to you in an instant. Stepping over the bottom half of your abductor, Bruce makes his way around to you.

You're gearing up to tell him you're alright when his hands find both sides of your face, effectively silencing you, "Did he hurt you?"

You tremble. The adrenaline rush was falling steadily, but Bruce hasn't touched you like this since... since... since before he began to hate you.

His eyes are all full of concern though, the clearest his expression has been toward you since this whole engagement kicked off in the first place. You feel like you're really seeing him right now and it's too delicate for you to grasp. You wade in it a little longer, selfishly, "You got here just in time. Before I even hit the panic button, I- how?"

You're surprised to find Bruce suddenly timid. He releases your cheeks and despite the dewy heat of early summer, you crave the warmth of his hands instantaneously. "There's a bug in the office."

You blink, "Come again?"

"The cars, too."

"Like... recently, or..." Bruce gives you a look that says "I think you know the answer to that". Somehow, this is more chilling than almost being kidnapped. "Do you... listen to everything?"

"Do you have something to hide?"

No, you want to say, just hours of me singing to myself, ranting to the wall, and unscheduled visits from my mother about how I should baby trap you. Surely, if he'd heard any of that, he'd have sued your mother into oblivion and this whole marriage would have been done for. You swallow down the panic and shake your head, "Not really, no."

Sirens in the distance grow louder as they reach your destination, and sure enough, the signal to the GCPD had gone through without a hitch. Several cop cars round the corner and Bruce carries Carpinelli and the driver's body out into the street for them to pick up.

You glance between him and the first cop that pulls up, "I should... probably grab another ride to my mother's. She's going to be furious about... well, everything."

But before you can walk away, Bruce grips your upper arm and pulls you back into his side, making you stumble and grab onto his chest. You stare up at him, bewildered. Bruce grunts. "That can wait. I'm taking you home."

"But the police-"

"Emilio Carpinelli? Is it my birthday, Batman?" One of the cops snickers as he walks up, handcuffs at the ready, "What happened here?"

Bruce cuts you off before you can answer, "Attempted kidnapping and criminal threat toward the Wayne Enterprises CEO. Carpinelli admitted to the assault of the Waynes' driver, as well as stealing his badge and keys. Send a car to Wayne Enterprises to retrieve the driver from the boiler room. That's all he admitted to."

"Will do. And you, Mx. Wayne? Sure hope he didn't get his filthy paws on ya."

You shake your head, "No, thank goodness. Batman arrived just in time."

The cop nods, "Well, we'll probably need to bring you in for further questioning. Just to corroborate the story in fuller detail."

"Tomorrow. Bruce Wayne wants them back home now."

The cop looks between you and Batman, eyes narrowing in confusion. Eventually, they land back on you for confirmation, "Yes," you breathe, leaning into Bruce's side with intention now, "my husband- well, fiancé is very worried. But I'll be happy to stop by the precinct bright and early tomorrow morning, if that's alright?"

And it's not like the guy is gonna argue with you when your kidnapping lead to the arrest of one of the biggest dons running Gotham City. He leaves you and Bruce with a nod and a call to stay safe.

But as Bruce leads you in the direction of what is slowly appearing to be the "Batmobile", you pry his hand off your arm and hold it in between you instead, "Mr. Wayne wants me home, you said?"

Bruce pointedly ignores the teasing in your tone, "God forbid someone else tries to make off with you."

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