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badly-drawn-doflamingo · 6 months ago

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Brook’s Past, Military and Everything Between [ An Essay kinda ]

Brook’s past is not a thing many people seem to mention or think about, at least in full, however it’s something that's plagued me. Not only as a Brook fan, but simply out of the odd implications it has towards the future, if any. Oda’s planted too many seeds for it to utterly be nothing; there’s so much odd and seemingly out of place comments and facts stated by Brook and others towards this missing history. However, knowing that the show is beginning to near it’s end, due to time, I am unsure of what exactly will be done.

I believe however, for folks' interest and so we can have everything in one place, that compiling everything found so far can be beneficial, so, I have.

Starting with what we know for sure, Brook is from the West Blue, born 90 years ago to a certain kingdom, the same kingdom he was a military convoy leader from. We know this due to a few factors, however it’s still open to debate if it *is* the same kingdom, however seeing as he was shown as a child to already know what fencing is, practicing moves with his bow, I am just going to say he probably was. In any case, other things worth noting, on the topic of childhood, is that Brook seems to have had money. At least, stability.

Compared to a lot of the other strawhats, Brook is shown dressing very nice. No tatters, no tears, shined shoes and a full violin and bow. He also, as already stated, seemed to be exposed to fencing enough to mirror the moves. If this comes from his kingdom, it means he was exposed to it at a young age. Knowing that he was a military convoy leader, this could be taken that perhaps there were military demonstrations, perhaps the kid saw castle guard or other displays; it’s really up in the air.

We know Brook, again as stated before, became a military convoy leader. Now, the definition of what exactly that means can differ.

Wikipedia states; A convoy is a group of vehicles, typically motor vehicles or ships, traveling together for mutual support and protection. Often, a convoy is organized with armed defensive support and can help maintain cohesion within a unit. It may also be used in a non-military sense, for example when driving through remote areas.

This could mean Brook’s job could’ve been accompanying ships for protection, being a knight for his King, mediating information and goods that come in and out of the kingdom. This would make sense on why his speed was needed, a 9.2 ft man being a great choice for a leader.

His weapon also would make sense for this kind of mission, perhaps secrecy being important or at least the ability to be discreet. His cane sword, a ‘Shikomizue’, is not unique however to just him in the show, one other man using one that has been confirmed so far, that being Fujitora. The pair also share a sea, the west, and both utilize iaijutsu (quick draw techniques.) Fujitora blinded himself with said sword because of something apparently so cruel and inhumane that he rather not see anguish. This may be related to Brook’s departure from his kingdom, which is addressed later in this essay. (Fig 3-5.)

Another thing that’s worth mentioning here is Brook’s attack patterns, being unique even for his kingdom apparently. Once again, during the Ryuma fight, Brook states, and I quote;

“Ryuma: “Now tell me, what part of that wretched excuse for a body would you like me to severe with my special ‘Arrow Notch Slash?’ Brook: You don’t know a thing about that move, so do not use it’s name. I use to serve in my kingdom’s raider squad. The quick draw attack that I was most skilled at was ‘Requiem Lebanderole’. My comrades-in-arms renamed it in regards to my fighting technique.”

(Fig. 1, Brook explains his raider squad and move names. A banderole mind you is a long flag for BATTLE crusades. )

This sets up a few interesting facts. 1. Brook was in a raider squad, a kingdom’s group of marauders, as well as if not the same job as convoy leader.

2. His techniques were unique to him, or at least specialized to a degree of having a nickname. 3. As expected, he seems to have been close to these men he commanded, adding another layer over Brook loosing the Rumbars.

Being in both a raider squad and being a convoy leader at one point, if not the same point, implies either Brook was simply versatile, acting in both in separate years or periods. Or, the most likely, that he was higher ranking than expected, making him a CO, or commanding officer. (Lieutenant Colonel is another equal rank for scale, making Brook just below a Major.) This makes him quite the important figure, especially for a kingdom that seems to value its military so much, so much so that a child of Brook’s age would already know about their style of fencing, as expressed already. Brook’s devil fruit is worth mentioning here, the revive-revive fruit not likely to be found by a crew like the Rumbars. It is spoken about as if he has always had it amongst the crew, being a fact of life. However, when did he get that fruit and why? I propose where it would be useful; in combat. If your military convoy leader, your best swordsman could be shot and come right back to protect the king, would he not be utterly invaluable? You would never let him leave… But he DID leave. It’s not said why, however we have some extra tidbits of information that may tell us why, and that ALSO may tell us the answer to what kingdom he means.

( Fig. 2. Brook states his leaving of the military for unknown reasoning, the word certain being used in an odd way, establishing his bounty.) This bounty mind you all is in fact, using inflation method, 297,000,000 berries. That is a MASSIVE bounty for just a pirate. Perhaps a certain blond stole a treasure a kingdom could not replace; their convoy leader. Lets rewind for a moment and cover something that may be seen as off topic however I will come right back to the subject at hand; Calico Yorki. Yorki is an odd bird, pirate wise. He makes his crew read his bounties and information, is never shown to play an instrument/sing but makes his crew preform/they all do, and makes Brook make him dinner. (Steak, and Brook continues to be able to make it as confirmed by an SBS.) What is oddest yet, other than his large crew and shirtless habits, is his nature. A man that set to sea to play music for “orphans and crying children” as stated by himself; a crew made for “any men who love music.” Now, I could be reading into this too hard, however from his speech patterns, to this apparent need for a large family, it seems that singing to orphans may be a very personal goal. An orphan turned pirate perhaps, with lofty dreams and a heart of gold, it reads to me that Yorki may have been just that. Knowing this, orphan or not, we now can compare these facts to Brook’s life up until their meeting. A child who probably grew up being taught to fight, being around access to education, expenses and the kingdom’s training. Why would a man like Brook ever join a man like Yorki, and if it’s only music, would that not make Brook a deserter? I do not think that is the case. I will now bring forward some interesting evidence regarding Brook’s kingdom and WHY he would leave. Germa 66. During Zou to Whole Cake, a few mentions of Germa are made with Brook around, garnering interesting reactions indeed.

( Fig. 3. Brook listens but chooses not to add anything utter than silence, his music pausing as well.) This silence could be take as simple ignorance, however Brook later admits he knows of the kingdom, in fact, he knows a lot. A lot more than anyone else did, Reiju admitting interest in his knowledge and once again, Brook brushes it off.

(Fig 4, 5, Brook speaks about Germa 66.) He seems to underplay or simply not elaborate a LOT on his kingdom, as if something happened. Perhaps joining Yorki was not out of simple cowardice or need to be free, (which again if he did would both reflect poorly upon his entire character and not be in character for him what so ever,) but in fact, out of necessity. It could have been Germa 66, it could have been some other grouping, however I believe this will come to be something important. The kingdom possibilities are interesting as well, and I will list the following LIKELY possibilities. (Other options are known to not be military, like Ohara, or literally places like Thriller Bark itself.) - Toroa - God Valley - Illsia Kingdom - Soja Kingdom The most likely candidates, because again, it is labeled as certain kingdom (Fig 2.) is Toroa or Soja, however I will personally lean into Toroa. This is because of a man by the named of Byron.

(Fig 6. Byron and his information.) His nose and face shape vaguely resemble Brook, however honestly that is a stretch. What is NOT however is his familiar attire, family line and the placement of his kingdom. This could easily be Brook’s home, however again, this is just speculation. Brook very well could belong to God’s Valley, or the same kingdom as Issoh, fleeing because of something he did not agree with or literally could not stand any longer. But, that falls under possibility, not fact. This concludes the facts section, now comes the final question; What does it mean for the story? And, honestly, that can be debated. What Oda has done is plant odd seeds of information about the man, similar to Sanji and his ties to Vinsmoke, that have not been addressed nor talked about in full, or so I’ve found sufficiently. These seeds MAY bloom into what I hope will be a tie into some huge reveal, perhaps aid from a past member of his convoy or kingdom, or perhaps this will only spark conflict. Perhaps it will be minute, Brook being able to aid due to his knowledge, the man already in Thriller Bark showing his prowess by being able to command the strawhats into defeating zombies via salt and tactic. In any case, we can only hope these things mean anything, tied into some huge story that could explain why a man like him would quit for a redneck like Yorki, other than perhaps love, and what kingdom would let a man like him go willingly.

Updates:

- Confirmation that he’s educated! Perhaps in military or just as a whole, but confirmation nonetheless!

- I realize the reason he’s so confident with Big Mom isn’t just guts; he’s fought for royalty before. He’s just back in the fucking building again /j

- Sabaody behaviors, a convoy leader

CHECK REBLOG FOR PART TWO!!

[ PLEASE ^^ It contains the rest of his information! ]

#essay writing #brook one piece #Brook #thriller bark #One piece #one piece writing #one piece thoughts #one piece discussion #scene analysis #character analysis

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lucidfairies · 30 days ago

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— m'lady [sevika]

part one

synopsis: your sister was in need of something, anything to reel her in, and a handsome new knight was just the one for the job.

pairing: sister's!knight!sevika x queen!reader

warnings: forbidden/off limits, mentions of parental death, light angst, essentially an introduction to the rest of the series, lots of sexual tension, eventual smut (see: parts 4, 6, probably more)

wc: 3k

a/n: check out the @sevsgiirl cameo ;) so much love to them, she's helping me so much with this so go follow them and love on all their work!!!!

2 YEARS PRIOR

Your father's death came and went with haste.

He was a noble man, the King. After your mother's death, he took control of Piltover and led with proficiency. There was never a moment where he wasn't thinking of the people, rather than himself. Your mother was born of royal blood, and married your father against her parents will. And together, they lead beautifully.

You said that all in the obituary, before he was lowered into the ground to rest next to the Queen. It was one week prior that he was joking about your queenhood, and the following week he was dead, only bringing that joke into reality.

Everything moved too fast for you. Your father died, you hosted his funeral at the castle, and five days later you were being crowned. The coronation was a dull thing; the colors weren't as bright in your eyes, and the dress was simply another designed to make you look ready to assume the duty of Queen. You weren't.

You couldn't find joy in the occasion. While most girls dreamt of their sweet sixteen, you spent nights dreaming about your coronation. You've had the colors picked out since you were 12 - a gorgeous mix of yellows and pinks, and even some light blue. Spring colors. However, as a young girl, nobody told you what had to come before the coronation for it to happen.

As your eyes drilled holes into the floor and your knees splintered from the old wood of the church steps, the royal priest placed your crown atop your head, finishing the ceremony with the exchange of the sword of state. You rose, he blessed you, and it was over. You could retreat back to your quarters and simply not attend the party, stating to the townspeople that you had fallen ill, but they should enjoy the party in your absence.

And now, you were Queen.

What came after that might've even been worse. Upon taking over the entire kingdom and all duties, you also took over the responsibility of Sarah - your younger sister. At 13, she was a brilliant thing, but also a hell of a lot for you to handle. To you, she was a rebellious child who channelled her guilt into sneaking out of the castle and piercing her ears.

You wouldn't pretend like it wasn't a burden, all of it. Sometimes you spent hours thinking about what it would be like to go back to when you didn't have to fret over foreign relations and the Piltover school system, when both of your parents were alive. There were nine years before your sister existed, nine years that you clung onto like a crutch.

You remembered the day your parents found out about Sarah's existence clearly. Your mother told you in your bedroom, and you were excited. You had no idea what would happen five months later, when your mother had an emergency birth at 22 weeks. She died that day, and so did your excitement.

It took you years to stop resenting your sister. Like most kids did, you blamed her for the death of your mother, but you never told her. After years of therapy, you worked through your resentment, but her constant presence and reliance on you led to the feelings creeping back up your spine, and you knew then that you had to do anything in your power to stop them.

PRESENT

“Elora,” you yelled from your writing room, as you continued to glance over a law that is on track to pass. She arrived in front of you in a moment's time, hands behind her back with a small smile. “I need you to find a knight for my sister. Organize interviews for the coming day and make sure to run background checks.”

“Yes ma'am.” She nodded and turned on her heel, quickly leaving to begin researching and organizing. You required the knight quickly; in a few short weeks, Piltover would be hosting its annual creation ball, that you had to plan all of. You needed Sarah safe and off your plate, so that you could focus on passing legislation and planning the biggest event of your royal career.

After countless attempts at reigning Sarah in, you had finally given up. You had put her in therapy and in public school, given her a royal advisor, and even offered to pay her to act right, and nothing managed to get through to her. You hoped that, now that she was 15, she would've moved past this part of her life, but she has yet to.

This was the one thing that she was absolutely against. She insisted that she didn't need a person, especially a man, following her around all the time. She hated the idea of someone posted outside her door. But her wants were too late for your needs - she would be dead by 16 if she kept up the way she was acting.

You would need three of them - each taking eight hours shifts to cover all 24 hours of the day. You had three, and you hardly noticed them. Sarah's guards would be no different, and you wouldn't take her no as an answer.

The first interview was nothing less than abhorrent bland. It was a man, of course, who barely met the qualifications and basically had to talk Elora into letting him interview. He failed knight training because of drugs, and had to retake it at much too old. He wasn’t in shape, and he refused to refer to you as Queen, rather than princess. You asked him to leave quickly after.

Terribly, the rest of the interviews followed the first one steadily. You had two potential candidates lined up, neither of which you were particularly fond of, but it didn’t matter. They met the requirements, and that was what was important. But, with the rate that the interviews were going, you truly didn’t believe that you would ever find a third, and that was an issue. No knight would settle for twelve hour days, it was against kingdom policy anyway.

Your final interview of the day was late, and found you swiftly. You were tired, and damn close to simply asking Elora to do the interview for you. You feared that if this woman wasn’t exactly what you wanted, you would absolutely flip your shit at her. In between each meeting, plans crept up your neck and you scribbled as much as you could down before the contestant arrived, and you were desperate to hide in your chambers and sort through all of your notes. But you were far from that.

The woman that stood before you as Elora opened the door was nothing like you had expected. It wasn’t like you got pictures when you looked over the recruits’ files, simply just a handout from the knight academy that was hardly legible. She was extremely tall, towering over Elora and eating up the space in the room, and her muscle wasn’t that of anyone that you had seen before - man or woman. Elora looked over at you with rosy cheeks and a hinting smile before she shut the door and left you to your business.

It was almost sensual the way the woman bowed to your presence, but kept her dark gaze on your eyes. Even bent at the waist, she took up a grand amount of space, in the best way possible. It was as if you couldn’t look away, even if she was burning you. Your eyes begged for hers, prayed on hers. There wasn’t anything in the world other than you and the pair of eyes gazing back at you.

Her eyes were something of magic - a dark mix of steel greys that got darker as she scanned your face. They almost made you shiver, the way she was looking at you. Her eyes fit perfectly in respect to her face; the high cheekbones, sharp nose, broad lips, scar drawn across her cheek. It gave her the most perfect blend of masculine and feminine, put together in one. She was beautifully a sight for sore eyes.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, my Queen,” she spoke low and smooth, taking your hand as she stood up. She left a kiss to your knuckle, something that none of the other recruits had even dreamt of doing. She had a sense of unrequited confidence to her that oozed, and it was drawing you in far more than you wished it was.

“The pleasure is mine,” you spoke before you could think, clearly your throat with haste to subdue the tension that she had created. “Please, sit,” you insisted, taking your seat as she took hers. You couldn’t help but watch as she sunk down in her chair and shifted her legs, letting them fall open wide. You swallowed, quickly averting your gaze to the paper in your hand with her work on it. “I must say, I did not have time in between applicants to look over your resume, but it is incredibly impressive,”

“That is the goal, after all.” She snickered, and you pursed your lips to restrict yourself from grinning. She had numerous highly selective and incredibly prestigious positions listed for her, and she passed at the top of her class at the academy, however, she graduated several years before any of the other applicants had.

“So, Sevika, I must ask what led you to leaving your post with the Kiramman’s? It appears as if you held the post for several years, and it's a highly competitive program, after all.” She sighed, shifting awkwardly and scratching the back of her neck.

“There was an incident that led me to become temporarily unable to provide them with the service that they needed. I chose to step down under the idea that I was not serving them to the extent that they needed.” You nodded slowly.

“May I ask what this ‘incident’ was?” You pressed. It could’ve been anything, with the vagueness of her speech. Slowly, with caution, she pulled back the partial cape that was covering the left half of her body. You had wondered why she was still wearing it when she appeared in your office, it was unusual and you were sure Elora had offered to take it.

Under it was a gorgeously mechanical prosthetic arm, one that looked as if it took years to build. “I can promise you, ma’am, that my injury doesn’t negate my ability to care for the princess. In fact, I believe that it makes me a stronger candidate-”

“Sevika, you aren’t ruled out of the competition simply because of a disability,” you insisted, softly. “It was the Kiramman bombing, I assume?” She nodded briskly. “I see. Well, moving past that, aside from the oath of Piltover, what does loyalty to the royal family mean to you?” You sat the paper down and clasped your hands on the oak table.

“Loyalty means everything to me, my Queen. There is nothing in the world that could make me turn my back on the post I’m assigned to. Nothing.” She insisted. You noticed the gap in her teeth as you spoke, and you almost forgot to listen to the words she was uttering.

“And if another realm were to offer you money or land in exchange for betrayal, what do you see yourself doing, honestly? I’ll kindly remind you that all of these answers are private and not shared.” She didn’t have to think before answering this one.

“Like I said, ma’am, I value loyalty above all else. Once I’m committed to a position, there is nothing that could draw me from it, especially something like money or land. My commitment to you means more than anything.” You couldn’t help the warmth that flooded your cheeks, even though you knew deep down that she was just trying to butter you up into hiring her.

“If you did not morally agree with an order given to you by the princess or myself, how would you respond?” She thought for a moment before answering this question. You couldn’t think of anything morally or ethically wrong that you would ever order her to do, but the questions were left by your father from when he hired knights, and you trusted his judgement over your own.

“In either situation, I would bring that up with you. If I don’t agree with somethin’, I won’t just blindly follow orders. And if it's something that I can’t do, I will resign from my duties.” You nodded, scribbling a few things down on the paper.

“If you would like a straight answer, I’m going to hire you undoubtedly. However, I need to warn you before you accept this position that my sister is quite a… handful. She can be difficult to deal with and she doesn’t often listen to directions. It may be difficult keeping her in check and protecting her to the best of your ability.” She laughed, and you couldn’t imagine why.

“If you think she’s bad, you clearly haven’t met a young Caitlyn Kiramman. Man, was that woman a lot to handle. You couldn’t help but join her laughs at that one. You had known the Kirammans for quite some time, and it was a well known fact that Caitlyn was quite the trickster in her developing years, much like Sarah. But Caitlyn’s was rooted in grief, like Sarah’s.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but Sarah hasn’t healed from the death of our parents, and it can be difficult for her to regain control sometimes. So, that being said, if you don’t think this is the position for you, it’s completely understood.”

“No, I think this is definitely the position for me. I’ve trained in both physical handling and mental handling. I’m sure that I can meet all of your sister’s needs within my station. I won’t let you down, m’lady.” The name rolled off her tongue unlike any other, even though thousands of other people had called you the exact same thing. “It can’t possibly be that difficult with a boss as pretty as you.” You couldn’t escape the blush that the woman gave you.

“You’ll start promptly tomorrow with two other soldiers. I’ll train you for a portion of the day and my general will spend the rest of the day with you. It was lovely meeting you Sevika, and thank you for your service to our kingdom. I’ll see you tomorrow, Elora will show you out.” She rose with you, bowing once again.

“Thank you for the opportunity, my Queen.” She shot you a smile as she made her way to the door, where Elora was already waiting. Once Elora had walked her out, you let out a breath that you had been holding. The woman was more than attractive. She made you forget about the gala and how taxing your day had been - if you hadn’t taken notes, you would have zero recollection of anything she said. She was entrancing, enchanting, and you knew that this was going to cause a problem.

Elora found her way back into your writing room steadily after she presumably walked Sevika to the door. “Miss,” she chirped with excitement. “Now, that has never been my particular taste, but I must say that that woman was very attractive.” Elora was never the outspoken type, so when she plopped down in the seat across from you and fanned herself, you were more than a little surprised.

“I must agree,” you said, quietly. It hardly mattered whether you found her attractive or not. In fact, it mattered not. She was to protect your sister, and that was that. “She worked for Kiramman House, I would’ve hired her on the spot if I knew that. She’ll start tomorrow with Loris and Steb, could you make sure the Generals are aware that this is happening?” Elora stood, wiping her hands on the apron covering her dress.

“Yes ma’am, right away.” She left you with a suggestive smile as she made her way out of the writing room and away, and you stopped to think about it for a moment. Think about everything. This was the first person you had found undeniably appealing since long before your father’s death, and it made you wonder. Why her? Why someone who was the definition of off limits? You couldn’t bear the thought of distracting someone as qualified as Sevika from her work, not that you would ever explore that option in the first place.

You had come to a point in your life where you believed that the castle and the kingdom and all the needs of others were more of substance than your own. As a queen, you couldn’t see yourself settling down or bringing someone into your life who sought to slow you down. You had no room in your brain or heart to focus on another human being to the extent that they needed, and that was okay with you, at least for now.

But gods, did the woman have pretty eyes.

taglist: @lovinglynny @ferxanda @sevsgiirl @lilithyys @ayooooohush lmk if you want a tag :)

#sevika #sevika x y/n #sevika x reader #sevika arcane #arcane sevika #knight!sevika #knight #queen #arcane #arcane league of legends #arcane smut #arcane league of lesbians #league of legends sevika #league of lesbians #league of legends #sevika smut

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froggiewrites · 8 months ago

Note

hi I had another idea for a request! dealer’s choice on the character(s) (but if you’re stuck for an idea maybe law?), but maybe the reader gets hurt in a fight and their (slightly in denial about being in love) future love interest nurses them back to health? can be fluff or smut or whatever you want I’m not picky I just love seeing your words

thank you I still love your work please keep it up

This request is from @toadmakes, on anon since it's her sideblog! I thought this idea was so sweet, so I just made a really fluffy, self indulgent little piece. Also, I let Law be cool last time I wrote about him so of course I had to make him a flustered little nerd in this one. I hope you enjoy it!!

A Helping Hand

Pairing: Law x Reader

SFW

Summary: You get hurt protecting Law, and he's not pleased. Warnings: Fluff, Lots of Banter, Very Little Hurt/Lots of Comfort Word Count: 1.3k

You don’t remember throwing yourself in front of Law, or being carried back to the Tang. You don’t remember the screams of your friends, or the shaking hands that so carefully bandaged you back up. But that’s alright, because they were all too eager to tell you how stupid you had been once you came to.

“–disgustingly irresponsible! Not to mention unnecessary! What good reason could there possibly have been to do that?” Law is the most furious you’ve ever heard him, and you fear it may be because he’s the most scared you’ve ever heard him. You don’t know how close of a call it was, but you know you hurt all over, and his eyes are shining with something someone who didn’t know better might confuse with tears.

“I didn’t want you to get hurt.” You try not to say it like an excuse or a plea. It’s simply fact.

His eyes shoot away from yours. You swear you see a hint of red on his cheeks, but just as quickly as you notice it, it’s gone. He clicks his tongue with displeasure before continuing. “I wasn’t going to get hurt. I could have very easily moved out of the way. You–” he sighs. “Don’t do anything like that again.”

“Well I don’t think I’ll be doing it anytime soon.” You try to give him a wry grin, but it turns more into a grimace as you shift, pain shooting through you. You’re covered head to toe in bandages, every part of you sore and bruised. You’re surprised you’re upright and conscious right now, honestly. “Can I get some painkillers?”

“You’re on enough to take down a horse.”

“But it still hurts.” You pout, and he grits his teeth and looks away from you again.

“Yeah. Almost dying tends to do that.” Even with the gruffness in his voice and face, his hands are gentle as they begin to fuss with your bandages, checking over every inch of you to ensure you’ve been properly taken care of. You could swear he hesitates slightly at checking the bandages around your thighs and chest, but he perserveres, ever the professional. You wince a few times when his hands brush a particularly tender spot, yelping when he makes slight contact with your ribs. He fiddles with the IV in your arm, and you feel a flood of relaxation and relief hit you. Looks like he found a reason to give you more painkillers after all. “You’re going to be out of commission for a long while, y’know.”

“How long?”

“At least six weeks, but probably longer.”

“What?”

“That’s nothing compared to what it could be. You have a couple broken ribs, not to mention all of the cuts and bruises. You’re lucky your organs weren’t crushed.”

“Can’t you like…shambles it away?”

“No.” His voice is flat. You look at him with wide, pleading eyes, and he scoffs at you. “Well, more like I won’t.”

“Why not?”

“If I just fix it you’ll run off and do it again, and next time you might not be so lucky.”

“Oh…so you’re just worried about me?” You giggle, filled with warmth at the idea. And maybe the pain meds. “You could just say so.”

“That’s not–” he lets out a soft choked sound when he realizes there’s no way to deny it without insisting he doesn’t care about you. As grumpy as he can be sometimes, he would never say something so unkind. Not to you. “Shut up.”

“Hey Captain?” You feel your tongue loosening with things you would never say, but you’re too out of it to stop yourself.

“Yes?”

“Do you like me?”

There’s definitely a flush to his cheeks now. “What?”

“I think you like me. A lot.”

“I–No!”

“You don’t like me?” Your voice cracks a little, tears coming far too quickly. Whatever he gave you is powerful stuff.

“That’s not–I–agh!” He roughly runs his fingers through his hair, desperately avoiding eye contact with you. “I like you. As a crewmate.”

You puff your cheeks out a bit with displeasure. “That’s all?”

“That’s all.”

“I’ll believe you if you look at me.”

“I am looking at you.”

“You’re looking at the headboard over my shoulder, Captain.”

His eyes flick to yours, and he turns an even more brilliant shade of scarlet. “I li–” His shoulders tense and he suddenly shoots up and turns away from you. “I can’t believe I’m arguing with you about this. You’re high off your ass. I bet you won’t even remember this when you wake up tomorrow.” You can see the tips of his ears burning as he gathers his things and prepares to leave.

“You’re gonna abandon me?”

“I have work to do!”

“I’m a patient, I am work!”

His voice is rising with frustration. “You’re already set up, what else is there to do?”

“I don’t know, Captain, I’m not the doctor here!” You try to raise your arm to reach out to him, only to let out a soft whine when you can barely move it.

“Please stop trying to use your broken bones.” He comes closer to gently hold your arm down, concern clear.

“It doesn’t feel broken.”

“It will soon.”

“You’re gonna let me hurt? On purpose? You’re so mean to me, Captain.”

He sighs. His thumb starts rubbing small circles onto your hand, though he doesn’t seem conscious of the action. “If I fix you up, do you promise not to do anything like that again?”

“No.”

The affectionate movements stop. “What?”

“I can’t promise that. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’m strong, I can take a little pain.”

“But I don’t want you to.” You know you sound petulant and childish, but you can’t stop yourself. “I don’t want you to hurt at all, I don’t care if you can handle it. You shouldn’t have to.”

“So you should?”

“Yes.”

“That’s stupid.”

You huff. “You’re stupid.”

He can’t help but break into a rare laugh, a chuckle that rumbles through him and makes your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t seem to realize he’s lost himself until he looks up to see you staring at him, eyes wide and cheeks red, mouth slightly agape. “What?”

“I really like you, Captain.”

He grows horribly flustered, but for once he doesn’t pull away from you. He keeps looking you in the eye, even as every part of him screams to run and avoid his embarrassment. “You do?” His tone is heart-wrenchingly hopeful.

“I do. So, so much. You’re the most beautiful and wonderful person in the world.” You can feel your smile grow dopey and lovesick. ��I’d take a million hits for you. A billion, even.”

“What if it’d make me happier if you didn’t take any hits at all?”

“Then I would say you shouldn’t have let me join your crew. Getting hit is part of the job. But that’s okay. You’re worth it.” You lean forward, begging him for a single touch, since you currently can’t lift your arms. You can feel your eyes drooping, but you fight to keep them open long enough to receive what you want.

He sighs, but you can see the affectionate smile creeping onto his face. “You’re insufferable,” he mutters, resting a hand against your cheek so tenderly you could weep. “Get some rest. I’ll fix you up in the morning.”

You hum as he uses his palm to gently push you back down, his other hand on your shoulders to recline you slightly. You’re fading fast, finally losing your fight with sleep, but before you go, you swear you feel the ghost of his lips against your forehead.

Tag List: @pandora-writes-one-piece

#law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #one piece x reader #law x you #law x y/n #trafalgar law #one piece

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greensagephase · 2 years ago

Text

Nonviolent Communication - Part One

Pairing: Spider-Man!Miguel O'Hara x Spider-Woman!Reader Summary: You don't show up to a meeting or report for other duties as a Spider Society member because of your period. Your boss shows up to your apartment. Word Count: 5,144 Warning: A little bit of angst?; Mention of death; menstruation, cramps A/N: There's multiple pieces of fan art for this fic. If you'd like to check it out, you can find everything linked in my masterlist! Masterlist Music Inspo (Spotify playlist for the fanfic here) "Nonviolent Communication" - Metro Boomin, James Blake, A$AP Rocky, 21 Savage Next Part

Part One

You were recruited four months ago into the Spider Society. Ever since the beginning, you couldn’t help but gravitate towards the leader and founder of the society. You learned quickly about his past and the way he carried himself these days.

Miguel O’Hara worked day and night. If he wasn’t in his lab working on something, he was out on missions with a select few members or on his own. There were days that you wouldn’t even see him. You wondered if anyone did on those days. You told yourself to mind your business. It’s not like you were friends and you hardly interacted anyway. You were a member of the Spider Society but one of the newest ones. You weren’t part of the most trusted members for Miguel.

And yet… There was something. You felt a need to look after him. You couldn’t understand it. You wanted to chalk it up to interest. Maybe you found his story interesting. How a man had simply replaced a version of himself in another universe to be a father, only to lose her when that universe collapsed. How heartbroken and guilt-filled he was over it. That had to be it, you told yourself. It was just intrigue.

You figured that if you just gave in to your interest, it would go away eventually. It would fade away… So, you allowed yourself to be interested. You showed up to meetings earlier than anyone else when Miguel scheduled them. You stopped by the cafeteria to pick up coffee cups beforehand and arrived at the meeting earlier. You came in, looking unbothered and uninterested as you placed the cup of coffee in front of him, greeting him.

“The cafeteria staff gave me another cup, and I didn’t know what to do with it,” you’d say as he looked up with an uninterested look on his face.

You’d walk away and take a seat a few chairs away, picking up the nicely done reports he provided at every meeting. You did this every week with a different excuse each time. You didn’t know if he ever wondered why the cafeteria staff gave you so much coffee since that was usually your excuse. You doubted he even cared; you were just another member.

The first few times, you noticed the cup would sit in the same exact spot you’d leave it. Miguel wouldn’t even acknowledge it after looking up at you. You still brought it each week. After some weeks, he wouldn’t even look up when you placed the cup in front of him on the desk but – he started giving you a small grunt of acknowledgement. You’d walk away with a little grin, quickly putting it away when you sat down on your usual seat so he wouldn’t notice it.

Then about two weeks later, you saw it. As he was going over the reports and listening to Ben Reilly ramble on about his past because of some anomaly he caught that week, he picked up the coffee cup and took a sip. You looked away as you felt his gaze about to turn to you. The reports looked very interesting indeed.

All throughout this, you also started showing up to his lab after he and Jessica requested to see you about a mission. You noticed there was quite a mess of gadgets lying around. You offered to organize it, as it is something you enjoy and are good at. You didn’t even know why you offered but Jessica seemed eager about the idea while Miguel frowned.

“Oh, come on, Miguel. Some organization around here wouldn’t hurt, you know? Look at this mess,” Jessica said looking around, pointing at different areas cluttered with all sorts of tech pieces.

“Fine,” Miguel said as he walked away, apparently done with the conversation.

Jessica beamed at you. She seemed to like you a lot since you did your job well and didn’t get into any drama. You were like the perfect pupil. You nodded at her, with a warm smile.

So that’s how you ended up showing up once a week to Miguel’s lab to do some organizing. You show up and organize as he works on something. Sometimes he is up in the air on his platform, going through monitors. You simply greet him as you arrive before you begin organizing and cleaning. Sometimes there is no response, other times there is just a “hmm”.

These visits have led to Lyla taking a liking to you. She often asks you questions as you work while Miguel is there. You don’t know if he pays attention to what Lyla and you talk about. You honestly doubt he even listens. He is always so engrossed in what he is doing.

Lyla definitely makes the time pass faster. It isn’t like you wanted it to but the silence in the lab is… off sometimes. Lyla asks you all sorts of things like whether you have plans for that weekend, if you enjoy a certain activity because other spider members enjoy it, if you like a certain food, or how missions have gone, etc. It is always something different. You respond to her questions as you work. You are fast and efficient.

You never miss a week, and you are never late as you have made it a habit to show up at the same time. Except this week that is. You started your period and this month is kicking your butt with excruciating cramps and lower back pain. You barely make it to your home after patrolling your city, sliding into bed in pain.

You dig through your nightstand, looking for the specific medicine you take to take care of this even if it makes you extremely drowsy and dizzy. You take it and lie down, hoping it will help right away as you groan in pain. You lie in bed, clutching your stomach. The medicine definitely makes you drowsy and dizzy, but it doesn’t seem to help much with the pain. You pass out a few times but wake up again, the pain too much.

You’re so out of it that you don’t notice the time. You don’t remember the day. You don’t notice the sun out behind your closed blinds. You don’t hear a multidimensional portal open in your small apartment living room. You don’t register the heavy footsteps that move through your apartment. Your eyes are closed, hands clutching your stomach, soft groans escaping your lips. You don’t see the large shadow moving through your room until the last second.

“Go away,” you say weakly, thinking someone has broken into your home.

Despite your pain, despite feeling drowsy and dizzy, your mind still has the time to find this funny. The one day you feel like absolute crap is the day someone decides to break into your apartment. And you’re Spider-Woman! How ironic, you think. Let them take whatever they want, you think, as long as they don’t hurt you.

However, you are surprised when you feel a warm and heavy hand pressed to your forehead.

“No fever,” the voice says stating it as a fact.

You continue to clutch your stomach, eyes closed. Unbeknownst to you as you lay in bed in and out of it, a man is in your apartment. His height towers over you in bed.

Miguel O’Hara is in your apartment… Checking on you. He stares down at you as you lay in bed. He sees you clutching your stomach and as he observes carefully, he sees no injury. There is no sight of blood either. His eyebrows furrow in confusion. You are clearly in pain but why? He turns to your nightstand, noticing the bottle of pills. He inspects it. Painkillers…

His eyebrows furrow further as he realizes what it could be. He walks to your bathroom to confirm. His suspicion is confirmed when he takes a look at your garbage can, spotting the plastic wraps of feminine products. His suspicion is further confirmed when he sees a pack of feminine products on the counter, ready for easy access.

“Coño,” he says quietly as he realizes his suspicion is true.

He walks out of your bathroom, looking at your shape in the bed. You are still clutching your stomach and soft groans escape from your lips ever so often. Miguel remembers the days he used to take care of his wife before everything collapsed. It was a long time since he had even thought about doing that for a woman, but his mind started remembering everything he did to ease his wife’s pain each month. He stood there, thinking before he walked out of your bedroom and into the one room that was the kitchen, the living room, and dining room all at once… New York apartments, Miguel thought, as he took in your apartment.

You were organized and clean, but that didn’t surprise Miguel. You did organize the lab each week with such ease despite Lyla peppering you with questions the entire time. Your apartment was warm with its colors. It gave the impression of someone happy and warm. Miguel noticed a bookshelf in the part of the apartment that plays the living room. It is filled with so many books that you have some stacked horizontally over the vertical ones. An avid reader, Miguel thinks before he heads to your kitchen.

It is clean for the most part except for a plate and a cup. Miguel searches through your kitchen, looking for something specific. He returns to your room, looking through your drawers looking for something else. A few minutes later, he returns to your bedroom. You lay still. Seems that you have passed out at last. With ease, Miguel slides some homemade socks with warm rice under your sweatshirt. He places one on your stomach and the other one on your back.

A satisfied hum escapes your lips, letting Miguel know his idea was somewhat successful despite it being homemade. He gives you one more look before heading out to your living room.

He doesn’t even know why he came. All he knows is that you didn’t show up to organize the lab like you did each week. You didn’t show up to the morning meeting either. Jessica hadn’t heard from you in hours and there was no activity from your gizmo.

A few hours later, you wake up from your slumber. You yawn and stretch your body gently. You lay in bed for a few seconds, realizing your pain is gone. Now you just feel the exhaustion that comes from having a period. You sit up in bed slowly, feeling something on your stomach. You look down. Your sweatshirt is tucked into your shorts on both sides. You untuck it and two socks filled with something slide out. You furrow your eyebrows as you lift them up to inspect closer. You bring them to your nose.

“Rice…” you say, recognizing the specific scent of rice. Your eyebrows furrow but you shrug. You don’t even remember getting up to make these, but you thank yourself for doing it despite being out of it. You get up from bed slowly and check the time. It’s already evening. You decide to take a shower to ease your muscles.

Your shower is hot. You fill the bathroom with fog, but it doesn’t matter. It makes you feel like a million bucks when you get into fresh clothes, all shower and fresh. You head out of your bedroom to get something to drink and that’s when you see it. The lamps in the living room are on, there is music playing from your record player. You look confused as you step out further.

“Mierda,” you hear an annoyed male voice, causing you to jump a little.

You turn to the voice, located in the kitchen and find…

“Miguel?” you say slowly but with confusion as you find him with his back to you.

He stands in front of one of your kitchen cabinets, holding it open. There’s a screwdriver in his hand. He turns around at your voice.

“Y/N… You’re awake,” he says turning fully around now.

You take him in. He’s in his suit as always. You’ve wondered many times if he ever just dresses in casual clothes since he’s always in his suit. He stands tall, of course, and you can’t help but think how he makes your already small kitchen look ten times smaller than it is with him standing there. You rub your eyes, making sure this isn’t just some hallucination.

“Um- you are here,” you say looking at him again.

Miguel nods, turning back around to the cabinet. You watch as he uses the screwdriver. You remember then. Your loose cabinet that has been a pain in the butt for months now. You look around the place. There were some dishes in your sink, or at least you remember there being some but now they’re gone. You notice the trash was taken out. Clean dishes were put away. And to your surprise, there’s food on the stove. There’s also a sweet scent lingering in the air that you cannot pinpoint right now.

“You feel better?” Miguel asks, with his back still to you as he finishes fixing the cabinet.

“Yes. A lot better, actually…” you say as you cross your arms across your chest, finding this situation so strange.

Miguel turns around to face you now. He looks at you before looking down at the screwdriver in his hand. The screwdriver looks like a toy in his hand, you notice.

“Yeah, well…” Miguel starts, looking up at you again. “Jessica was worried about you. She said you didn’t report to the meeting we had this morning. She asked if you had gone to my lab to organize it and when I told her no, she grew worried something had happened to you since she also noticed no activity from your gizmo. She wanted to come herself and check on you, but the baby kept her busy today. She asked me to come in and check for her.”

I nod, realizing that makes perfect sense. Jessica has grown fond of you after all, you just never realized she was that fond of you.

“Well, thank you for checking in on me for her. I’ll be sure to thank her tomorrow,” you say looking around the kitchen again.

“You probably shouldn’t do that,” Miguel says, putting the screwdriver down on the counter. It looks normal sized again. You raised an eyebrow. “She doesn’t like it when people thank for her… caring. If you want to thank her, just get her a coffee and tell her you appreciate her mentorship,” Miguel explains, resting his hands on his hips.

You nod slowly, maybe it was better to just thank her for everything instead of just this act. You sigh.

“I guess you’re right,” you say, scratching your neck softly. “Did she also tell you to fix my cabinet, or did that just bother you so much?”

Miguel’s face remains void of any expression. You wanted to ask about the homemade socks with rice since it became apparent to you that you weren’t responsible for them, but you kept your mouth shut.

“I was looking for – rice when I noticed your loose cabinet and other messed up things around here. You have a shitty landlord or something?” he asks, looking around.

You shrug. “Yeah, but the rent is good.”

“You’re not exactly strapped for cash, are you?”

You shake your head. It was true. You had some money. You could afford to move somewhere else where the landlords were better but…

“Why are you still here then?” Miguel asks.

His question is laced with interest, and you can’t help but think about how this is the longest conversation you’ve had with him since… meeting each other. And even then, that conversation was probably about three minutes long. You avert your gaze from him, looking at the wall nearest to you. Your eyes land on a single picture amongst many.

You lost your Peter three years ago, just like many of your spider colleagues. Losing him has been the hardest thing you have ever experienced. You have been punched till the air was knocked out of you, you have laid in ruble with buildings crushed over you, and you have been on the verge of death many times, but nothing has ever nor will ever compare to the pain and grief of losing Peter.

As you look at the picture of Peter and you, the one you took the first day you moved into this apartment, you think about all the memories in this apartment. It was all the two of you could afford back then but you two loved it. It was your place. It was the first time you were living together, and it didn’t matter much that it was a little rundown. You guys just wanted a place to live together. You two made it what it is now. A warm and happy place where you two could come home after a long day of work. You spent hours thinking of how to decorate it. Choosing the right and most affordable couch, choosing the wallpaper, choosing where the furniture went.

In the end, it had turned into a beautiful apartment. It was a haven for the two of you but what mattered the most was that you shared it with him, your Peter. You sigh, feeling overwhelmed by the loss again. You had moved on, of course. You had to. How else would you live otherwise? And you had promised Peter you would. Your mind is overwhelmed by the sudden memories as he laid in your arms. He had been crushed by ruble during an attack by a villain, his body was weak, his eyes glistened as they looked at you. You remember caressing his face and hair. He loved it when you did that. He always said it was the perfect way to soothe his nerves. The perfect way to get him to relax and nap after a stressful day.

Your own eyes were filled with tears as you saw it. The way his life was slowly leaving his body. What hurt a million times more, if it was even possible to hurt that much, was that you knew he knew. He knew that was it. There was no turning back. There was no miracle. There was no secret medicine or miracle serum that could make him get up and walk away from this unscathed. That was it.

You held him in your arms, rubble all around you. He looked at your eyes, his own hazy, as you caressed his face and hair. He gave you a gentle smile as he reassured you, he was okay.

“You will move on, right, baby?” he asked you, his voice indicating how little time there was left. “You have to… You must promise me you will. This city depends on you.”

You nodded your head and unable to hold them back any longer, your tears spilled down your face. You remember how some of your tears had landed on his pale yet still beautiful face.

“You must promise me, out loud, darling. Please,” he said, struggling more to get his words out.

“I promise. I promise I will try my best…” you said, and he had nodded. He looked satisfied with your response.

“You must continue – you are my hero. You always have been. And you are the love of my life, darling… I only wish we had more time. That I had more time to make you happier… To make you, my wife. Please – promise me you will be open to other loves,” he had gasped out.

You shook your head. That was impossible. How could you fall for someone else when Peter was the love of your life? Peter, noticing your reluctance, lifted his hand weakly to your face. Despite everything, he was still trying to comfort you. You felt something in you break further. He wiped your tears and gave you a weak yet comforting smile.

“Please promise me you will allow yourself to love again… If there is someone out there that makes you feel like that, please promise me you won’t shut them out. Please, love, promise me,” he said, looking at your eyes and cleaning your tears away.

His voice was weaker, and you noticed his chest was beginning to rise slower and slower. The time was running out…

“I promise I will. I will open my heart if someone comes along but I promise I will never stop loving you, Peter,” you had answered, trying to make him happy in his last minutes. He smiled at you, sweetly, and thanked you. You held him close to you, breathing in his scent. You tried to hold on to his warmth desperately. You clung to him, like you could defend him from Death herself. Like you could defy her this one time.

You cried your soul out as his heartbeat ceased to beat. You cried out as his body became limped in your arms. You cried as his chest stopped moving. You cried, cried, and cried as you held him close to you like your tears and grip could bring him back.

You cursed Death.

You often worried about hurting Peter if something happened to you. You never counted on Peter being the one who left too soon.

You inhale shakily. Your vision has become blurred with tears as you continue to stare at the picture on the wall. You turn around, remembering that Miguel is there. You wipe your tears discreetly. You swallow the lump in your throat, trying to force it down. Otherwise, the moment you speak, your tears will flow. You clear your throat.

“It doesn’t really bother me – and besides, I spend a lot of time out,” you finally say, sounding somewhat normal now. Though the ache is there, deep in your chest. It’s like someone stabbed you in the heart with a wooden stick and left a small piece of it stuck. It always hurts, it always aches.

Miguel doesn’t reply as you turn back around, feeling more in control of yourself. However, you can see something in his eyes. Perhaps understanding? You guessed he probably knew to some extent what had happened to you. It was a canon event for all spider-people. To lose someone.

“Have you eaten anything?” Miguel asks suddenly, dropping the apartment conversation probably for your own sake.

You shake your head. It was hours since you had eaten something. Since yesterday, really.

“There’s some food here. Let me…” he says trailing off, turning around to get a plate from a cabinet. You can’t help but feel a little surprised at how fast he learned his way around the kitchen. Then again, it’s not that large you realize. You approach the kitchen island and take a seat on one of the two island chairs as Miguel turns around with a plate of pasta. Your eyebrows raise in surprise. It is one of your comfort foods. Miguel slides it over to you, gently. A fork is already on it, ready for you.

You slide the plate closer, the scent of it making your stomach growl instantly. You’re definitely hungry.

“Thank you,” you say before you dig in. You can’t help but smile with satisfaction. It is amazing. “This is really good.”

Miguel doesn’t say anything, just watches you. You eat some more, feeling a bit self-conscious as you feel his gaze on you, but you ignore it. Or try to.

“So, are you a really great cook or is pasta one of the few things you can cook?” you ask, slowing down on your eating, trying to fill in the silence.

Miguel shrugs. “My mother taught me how to cook when I was a teenager. It stuck.”

You nod, still eating. “Great skill to have, really… It helped me and –“ you pause, realizing you were about to mention Peter. You swallow. “It helped Peter and I when we were in college,” you finish, looking down at your plate.

A hint of a smile forms on your face as you remember Peter and you cooking for the week over the weekends. You guys lived separately but shared groceries to help each other out. It saved you guys a lot of time and money and brought the two of you closer.

“It is a great skill to have,” Miguel agrees quietly as you continue to eat, looking down at your plate.

You nod silently as you finish eating. You look up at Miguel, he’s looking down at the counter. His hands are flat against the counter, and he looks lost in his own thoughts. You can’t help but take this time to look at him. The sight of him in your kitchen is really something. You think about how great he is at these things like looking after a woman when they’re on their period or cooking. You want to facepalm yourself as you realize it’s obvious he would be good at these things. He did have a wife and daughter at one point, you remind yourself. You look down at your plate.

“Oh, I made this for you, too,” Miguel says at last, breaking the silence.

You look up curiously, wondering what else he had made. He turns around towards the stove and you watch carefully as he retrieves a mug from one of the cabinets. Again, you feel surprised seeing how he knows exactly where to find what he’s looking for. It disappears from your view in front of him and you hear him pour something. He turns around again, holding one of your mugs. Whatever it is, is hot as you can see steam from the top. He sets the mug down on the counter and slides it over to you. Again, his movements are gentle. You lean forward and reach for it.

“Careful. It’s hot,” he warns, as you pull the mug towards you gently.

The scent fills your nostrils quickly and you recognize the sweet scent that met you earlier when you exited your bedroom. You look up at him.

“Canelita,” you say, grinning.

Miguel nods. “Growing up, my mom said it helped with cramps. It used to help my…” he trails off.

You nod. “Yeah, my grandma used to say that, too.” You pause as you inhale the sweetness of cinnamon. “Thank you…” you reply, with sincerity, still meeting his eyes.

Miguel only nods. You drink the warm liquid, enjoying the warmth that spreads down your throat, chest, and finally your stomach. As it settles in your stomach, you feel warm and cozy.

Miguel clears his throat then and looks down at his gizmo. “Well – I should get going. I have some things to catch up on,” he says turning his attention back to you.

You nod as you place the mug on the counter gently and get up. He walks out of the kitchen portion and heads to the middle of the room. He starts clicking on his gizmo, presumably starting a multidimensional portal. You walk towards him, leaving some distance, of course. He looks up at you as the portal appears in the middle of your apartment behind him.

You clear your throat. “Hey – I just wanted to say thank you… For everything. I know Jessica asked you to check up on me, but you did much more than that. I truly appreciate it,” you say, hoping that you’re fully expressing how grateful you are.

You can’t help but think about how you’d probably still be in bed right now. Miguel nods.

“It’s no problem…” Miguel replies, though he looks like he wants to say more. You watch, waiting but he just stares back with little emotion until he nods at you and turns around. He starts walking into the portal. The bright lights coming from the portal create shadows in your apartment. You watch wordlessly until he looks behind his shoulder. “Don’t forget – don’t mention it to Jessica. She can be weird about being thanked sometimes.”

You nod. “I won’t bring it up, no worries. Thank you again. Enjoy your night!” you call out and he just nods before he disappears into the portal. The portal disappears a few seconds after him, taking away its shadows with it.

You sigh as you stand there for a few more seconds before taking a seat again on the counter island. You drink more canelita, still cherishing the warm feeling. You look at the stove. Everything is in containers and there’s no sight of dirty pans, pots, or utensils.

“Cooked and washed the dishes…” you say to yourself before taking a sip again.

Your attention turns to the cabinet you found him fixing earlier. You get up and walk towards it. You open it with no issue. You think about all the little nicks this kitchen has. Like the drawer that doesn’t come out fully or the other cabinet door that makes a noise every time you open it. Curiosity gets the best of you because before you know it, you are pulling said drawer. Your lips part in surprise as the drawer fully slides out without issues. You check the other cabinet door. No sound.

You sigh as you look around, your eyes landing on the containers. One of them is full of leftover pasta and the other one contains the canelita. Your thoughts are interrupted as you hear your gizmo go off. You turn in the direction it came from, trying to remember where you left it last night. You are usually very careful with it but last night you barely made it through the door.

You find the gizmo on the console table in the living room section of your apartment. You realize there are a few messages from your colleagues like Hobie, Miles, Ben, and Jessica. You quickly reply to the first three who asked about your whereabouts before you move to Jessica’s. You realize she sent multiple messages all ranging from asking how your last mission went to why you weren’t answering to asking if you were okay. The last one makes you stop. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion as you read it.

“Okay… You haven’t replied to any of my messages. Do I need to send someone to check on you? You’ve been MIA all day. Let me know you’re okay!!”

You look up towards where the portal was opened just minutes ago. You shake your head and reply to Jessica, notifying her about what happened. You leave out Miguel though. You put away your gizmo in its usual spot and look around your apartment, thinking. The lamps in the living room section are still on, the record player has stopped playing, however.

“Hm.”

--------------------------------------------- Translation for italicized words: Coño - fuck (it varies by country) Mierda - Shit Canelita - a tea made out of cinnamon sticks

Next Part

A/N: Might do part two. If it matters, I listened to "Nonviolent Communication" from the ATSV album as inspiration. Such a lovely song for Miguel, I think.

I love Miguel O'Hara. That's all.

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isabelawritesthings · 4 months ago

Text

The last dance

Pairing: Katarina x F!reader

Synopsis: You are one of the guests at the Black Rose Ball, and your dance partner catches your eye.

Word count: 823

Warnings: Mentions of war and death, mentions of relationship breakups.

An: I know it's just a cinematic, but my heart can't stand seeing beautiful women in fiction and not writing about them 😭 I tried to make it longer but my creative block isn't helping. (In case you're confused and only know Arcane, Garen is her romantic interest in the lore of League of Legends and Jericho Swain is the one who rules Noxus, Demacia and Ionia are regions that are at war with Noxus.)

What happened in Piltover was surprising for all of Runeterra. A simple inventor becoming a kind of God? Even more so in the city of progress? Simply surprising.

Your parents were longtime members of the Black Rose, and with Mel Medarda's return, the organization needed a distraction. And just like in the times when Noxus was a monarchy ruled by an emperor, why not have a ball?

"You look beautiful.” Your mother said to you. “Do we really have to go to this ball? Are we really going to pretend that Ambessa's daughter isn't coming back to finish us all off?" Your mother looked surprised. "You better not say things like that at the ball.” Your father enters the room. "We're going to be late like this, ladies."

It was a masquerade ball, as the Black Rose always liked anonymity, but you didn't care, you wouldn't be wearing a mask that night, you thought the masks were too ugly to wear.

“Honey, do you mind if me and your father go say hi to some friends?" Your mother asked. "No, I think I'll just dance a little." You walk out onto the dance floor, and dance with the first person you see, not caring who it is under that mask. “You dance very well," said the masked person, it was a female voice. "Thank you... Are you part of the Black Rose, or are you just one of those nobles they invited?" The person behind the mask laughed. "You tell me, you're not wearing a mask after all.”

“Those are pretty ugly." You and your dance partner change positions. "I prefer you like this without the mask, you're very pretty.” You gave a small laugh. "You must be the one who's beautiful, redheads usually are." The woman looked you in the eyes. "Maybe we could talk in a more private place." You smiled. "I'd love to." The two of you walked to the garden.

In the garden, the mysterious woman takes off her mask, you weren't wrong, she was indeed beautiful. "Nice to meet you, Katarina." you smiled. "Y/N." Katarina sits on the garden bench. "Your parents are members of the Black Rose, aren't they?” You sit down next to her. "Yes, long before I was born." She gives a shy laugh. "They're all liars and murderers... You don't look like one of them.”

“And I'm not, it's just my parents who have these crazy ideologies of theirs, if I could, I'd be in Demacia or Ionia right now, but I would rule out going to Ionia, there's a very anti-Noxian sentiment there thanks to the war.” Katarina looks at the floor. "Demacia... That name brings back memories." You looked curious. "Are you from there?" Katarina looks at you. "No, I was born right here... It's just that it was there that I lived the best moment of my life, because I found love." You looked even more curious.

“Garen, his name is Garen, he was in the Demacian army, it could never work since we are also at war with Demacia, he would probably be executed for treason if anyone found out.” She looked sad. "Jericho Swain is still going to destroy this country with those stupid wars!" She looked at you again. "I still love him, but it could never work." You changed the subject. "So, what are you doing here? You don't look like a member of the Black Rose." Her eyes looked at you intently. "Let's just say I came to finish something." You thought it was strange that she was staring at you like that.

“You're taking too much of a risk by meeting me in a secluded location, if I were a spy you'd be dead by now." You looked even more surprised. "I... I... It's just that I found you quite peculiar…” She stopped staring at you. "Peculiar? I've heard better compliments... You look like you're also trying to forget a love." She figured it out pretty quickly. "I fell in love with a girl recently, she was in the army, she ended up dying in Ionia." Katarina's face remained still. "I'm sorry." You looked at her. "Don't be sorry, this fate was already predictable.”

You lost track of how much time you spent talking to Katarina on that bench, the more you found out about her, the more impressed you were, like how she had been trained by generals from all over the country.

“I think you need to go now, your parents must be worried." She stood up. "Thanks for the evening, I needed a little chat before I do what I came to do." You stood up too. "You keep mentioning this duty you have to do tonight but you never say what it is." She looks at you. "Let's just say it involves shocking some people at this ball."

She kisses you on the cheek before she leaves, you blush slightly.

#welcome to noxus #noxus #arcane noxus #katarina du couteau #katarina lol #katarina x reader #katarina league of legends #katarina #league of legends x reader #riot games #sapphic

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dumpywrites · 5 months ago

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Test Drive - Min Yoongi / Suga

Prompt: “How does one incite a first kiss?”

Prompt request: HERE

Genre/tags: Fluff, friends to lovers, friends with benefits? but they only kiss

Pairing: Yoongi x she/her reader

Word count: 3.5k

a/n: The idea of friends figuring out their feelings for each other is always so cute to me idk why >_<

Yoongi and you used to date once… back in high school. That happened due to peer pressure and the fear of missing out from not getting a prom date like everyone else. In fact, neither one of you had ever said anything about your feelings to each other, just a mere “do you think it’d be cool if we just date?” uttered by your friend on a random Thursday after school. It didn’t last that long as you agreed that friendship just made a lot more sense than relationship to you both.

Fast forward to just a few years later, you were now a fully functional adult, at least that was what you’d like to think. The high school quote on quote friendship gang that you used to have, was now slowly divided by work. All of you were occupied by your own schedules, projects, side jobs, or simply, just adulting stuff. You were just glad you had a friend like Jimin who would take his time to organize random hangouts now and then, just for the sake of it.

And so after not meeting for around two full months, all of your schedules finally lined up. It also happened to be the first time in forever that Jin introduced someone new to your group, a girlfriend.

“Honestly, I thought you’d die alone.” Taehyung said nonchalantly.

“Just because you were voted most handsome student that one time in college, doesn’t mean you get to say shit like this…” Jin said, clearly annoyed, which only resulted in laughter from everyone.

“You’re just butthurt you weren’t the one who won.” Taehyung smirked and took a sip of his cola.

“Cut it off guys, you’re scaring poor Wendy here.” You said, smiling at the girl sitting next to Jin. “Don’t worry, we’re not always like this.”

“She has to get used to it one way or another, she’s dating the most annoying one in our group after all!” Jimin said while snickering.

“I swear I’m going to murder you all…” Jin groaned. The girlfriend next to him only giggled.

“Man, I wish I wasn’t so single.” Nayeon puffed her cheeks and sighed. “It’s gonna be Christmas soon too.”

You nodded. “Relatable.”

“Aren’t you and Yoongi used to date though?” Jimin suddenly said.

The guy who was only quietly sipping his coffee, suddenly straightened his posture. “I heard my name mentioned.” Yoongi said.

“Oh my god… it was just silly thing we did to have a prom date!” You whined. “Right, Yoongi?” You looked at the guy, searching for validation. You earned a shrug from him.

“I wanna know the details!” Wendy suddenly said with excitement.

“We were both dumb and had never dated anyone before. It was more of a play date kind of thing.” You replied, looking at Yoongi again in hope that he would back you up.

“I was the one who suggested it, the fomo was getting to me seeing Taehyung date left and right. Look at how that turned out for him though…” Yoongi simply said. The mentioned guy could be heard protesting in the background.

“I always wonder,” Nayeon tapped her chin in a comical way. “Did y’all ever kiss or something?”

“Eww, never!!!” You cringed, while the others laughed. “We dated for two weeks in total because just holding hands made us gag.”

“Not gonna lie, I could picture it. The two of you would look cute.” Wendy commented with a playful smile.

“Lord… trust me, we don’t.” You shook your head at her.

“Hey, Yoongs!” Jimin called. “When was even the last time you went on a date?!”

“Contrary to popular believe I actually go on dates, excuse you.” The guy rolled his eyes, taking another sip of his coffee.

“I hardly believe that. We don’t need to count Y/N here, okay???” Jimin chuckled.

And that was how Yoongi became grumpy the entire ride back home. He gave you a ride because your house was in the same direction and you were just too lazy to deal with the busy street on a Saturday night. The moment you stepped inside the car, the guy was already complaining. With some time to kill, you decided to stop at a drive thru for some ice cream and chit-chats.

“They really need to mind their own business.” Yoongi said, still vexed.

“I’m sure they were just joking.”

“Do I really look like a loser?!”

“You don’t.” You quickly replied.

He sighed. “Sorry, it’s just that it’s been a while and I suddenly feel self conscious.”

“Aww, Yoongi…” You cooed. “Is there someone in mind though?”

“Not really.” He said with a straight face.

“What’s it like anyway? Your ideal type and all…” You turned your body to face his side, lifting your feet a little bit.

“Uh… I guess I like someone who has no filter and just chill.”

“What about appearance?”

“You sound oddly excited.” He side eyed you.

“I’m just curious! Plus you never really talked to me about this and we’ve been friends for years.”

“Hmm… let me think.” He tapped his thigh, wondering. “Nah, I think I couldn’t care less.”

“I find it hard to believe that…” You squinted your eyes. “Men are visual beings.”

“Do not generalize!” He eyed you again.

“Is it someone like Minjoo? Cause I remembered her being very pretty.” You didn’t know why you were whispering.

“That was such a long time ago.” He shook his head.

“Hey, I heard that apparently your first relationship supposedly shapes your ideal type.” You shrugged.

“So it’s you then.”

Your eyes widened. He really had to say it with the blankest looking expression. The honesty of this man really blew your mind sometimes.

“Oh, shut up! That doesn’t count!!!” You protested.

He only chuckled, clearly finding your reaction amusing.

“Is Minjoo your first kiss?” You whispered again, wiggling your eyebrows.

“This topic has clearly shifted from wanting to help me out to full blown interrogation.” He folded his arms and closed his eyelids. “No, she was not.”

You dramatically gasped. “The drama!”

“I think my first kiss was in uni and neither of us were sober at that time so it doesn’t really matter.” He scoffed.

“Damn, I was gonna ask how’s your first kiss like, only for you to say that. I’m sorry, I guess.” You sighed with a teasing smile on your face.

“What’s yours like?” He asked.

“It was sweet actually.” You smiled as you reminisced through the memory. “Both of us were really shy and I think we kissed under a tree. It was some real k-drama shit.” You laughed. “It’s kinda embarrassing now that I think of it…”

“Must be nice.” He nodded a few times. “To be quite honest with you, I don’t even know if I’m a good kisser.”

You raised your hand and high-fived him. “Surely that’s not something we should be proud of.” You giggled. “Like, how does one incite a first kiss? Hell, how does one incite a kiss in general???”

“I’m pretty sure you just go for it, don’t need to think much.” He laughed. “Worst case scenario you get rejected.”

“This conversation started with me wanting to help you with your insecurities to then giving me an insecurity! Now I’m worried about my kissing skill!!!” You whined.

“You think you might be rusty? If you’re rusty, then what am I?!” He grinned.

“Should we just practice kissing?”

The car suddenly went silent. It was no help that the radio volume was playing at almost the lowest volume. The sentence just flashed through your mind and you let it out without thinking of it twice. In your head, it would be way weirder to ask someone random or even someone you romantically interested in to indulge in the idea. He was your friend, a very close one too. He was in fact, just Yoongi. It should not be weird, right?

Yoongi’s lips turned into a big O shape. “I’m sorry, what?!”

“I mean, in what other situation can you just ask a person to practice kiss with you. Any other situation would be too embarrassing. We’re just friends that want to test something out!”

“You sure it wouldn’t be weird?” Yoongi raised one of his eyebrows.

“I think so?” You looked at him skeptically.

“No take-backs.” He warned you.

“Roger that.” You nodded. “Do we just… uh, how do we???”

Instead of replying, he just softly brought you closer. The space in between the car seat was making it a bit tricky, but his hand smoothly pulled you by the back of your neck. And your lips met, just like that. Both of you let it linger for a few seconds, before you felt his lips moving, so automatically, your response was to mimic his movement.

“Stick your tongue out for me.” He said between the kiss.

“Oh, you’re giving directions now?”

You pulled back, smirking at him before leaning back in. You did as told and soon found both of your tongue dancing, intertwining with each other. You couldn’t help but to giggle every now and then, breaking the kiss as you did, but each time Yoongi would reach for your lips back on his. You could feel him smiling through it, maybe he wanted to giggle along with you too.

After what felt like forever, you both pulled away, mostly due to the awkward angle making your back ache a little bit.

“That was… something.” You chuckled, fingertips holding your lips as you still couldn’t believe what happened.

“That was not so bad…” He breathed out and grinned.

“I think so too.” You giggled. “It’s just kinda funny though, I’m sorry I kept laughing.”

“It’s okay, it’s kinda cute to be honest.”

Sometimes you hated how frank your friend could be, because this was the kind of stuff he just blurted out without thinking, and it was messing with your head.

“So… what do we do with this information?” You looked at him, feeling your face flushed.

“Nothing, I suppose.”

─

It was just a week after when you receive a text from Yoongi, asking if by any chance you were free after work. You were not sure what he wanted to say that was so important to the point that he had to tell in person immediately. You soon found out why.

“I have a date tonight.”

He said, standing right in front of your door that you just closed right after welcoming him in. It was raining and the black hoodie he was wearing was slightly damped after running from the parking lot, adding to the dramatic effect. It looked like he was shivering ever so slightly, you just had the tiniest urge to hug him to make sure he was warm.

“Huh?” You gaped. “With who??? I didn’t know you were close with someone?!“

“I downloaded bumble a few days ago. It was Taehyung’s idea.” He cut your question short.

You folded your arms, wanting to tease him but no words came up. You couldn’t exactly pin point as to why you felt almost disappointed upon hearing the news. “Congrats? You could just call me or text me.”

“What if I kiss her at the end of the date?”

Your eyes widened as you started to get some ideas. Or you could just be one hell of a pervert if that was not the case.

“I need your feedback… and consent.” For the first time in a while, you saw nervousness in Yoongi’s face. He kept fiddling with the ring he had in his middle finger. He cleared his throat before popping a question slash offer to you.

“Can we practice again just for a bit?”

In short, Yoongi ended up ditching the date and spent the whole night making out with you on the couch. He never asked or mentioned anything about the alleged date afterwards, just silently watched the tv you had on as you leaned on his shoulder.

The first time was odd, but it was odd in a cute and endearing way. But the second one was intense. If you were giggling mid kissing before, this time you were holding down your voice, trying to not make any weird noise. When he bit your lower lip, did he remember the fact that both of you were just friends?

─

At this point you were both experts in kissing. At least in your case that was what you would like to believe. It had been going on for weeks and it was turning into a habit that you found yourself guilty on too. It was just too easy to keep coming back to him, asking the silly question. It appeared to be the same for him as well. He never refused. Kept coming back to you as well.

None of you ever addressed anything, not that you thought it would matter anyway. It would be a lie to say that you didn’t enjoy this, because clearly, you were addicted at this point. You just could not bring yourself to stop. Any chance you get to be alone with him, your lips would find each other almost as instantly. It would always just end like that though, a kiss, a make out sesh. Never more, never less.

With Christmas just around the corner your friends were starting to plan getaways, dinners, parties, and other possible options. You? You were just thinking of how to sneak and shower Yoongi with smooches. It was getting unhealthy and you were completely aware, but oh well.

Came twenty fourth of December. It was snowing and surroundings were looking festive. With everyone having days off from work, it was decided that renting a cabin and spending the night there sounded perfect to all of you.

Wendy and you were in charge of the Christmas tree, while Jin and Taehyung being the taller ones in the group, were assigned for decorations that acquired more height. Yoongi could be seen trying to set up the fireplace, as Jimin and Nayeon set up the food and snacks.

“Done!” Wendy clapped her hands happily as both of you finished the tree with a star on top.

“We should take a picture together with the tree!” Nayeon exclaimed.

All of you started to scoot, preparing your poses as Nayeon grabbed her phone and put it on a table after setting the camera timer. When she ran back to quickly join the rest of you, you suddenly felt Yoongi’s arm coming from your back, pulling you closer to him. A big grin was plastered on his face. Normally, you wouldn’t bat an eye to that, you had been friends for years and years. So you weren’t so sure why it made you malfunction for a second when you felt his fingertips brushing your shoulder. Thankfully, you had enough time to look up back at the camera to make an appropriate expression.

Two board games and one boring christmas movie later, most of you were sleepy, if not a little bit tipsy. Taehyung started taking sips of Jimin’s coffee he found in the fridge, that was when you knew that man was drunk. While Jin and Wendy had already head upstairs to their room, Nayeon and Jimin were sitting on the carpet while you and Yoongi on the couch, with this weird gap between the two of you.

“I heard the bumble dates went well.” Taehyung said, as he occupied the empty space between you and Yoongi.

Your head immediately jerked to your left side, looking at both Yoongi and Tae. Didn’t he ditch the date? “Oh, you actually went to the date?”

Yoongi looked at you, with yet again another unreadable expression. He was about to open his mouth but the other guy beat him to it.

“Did he show you her photos? The girl looks hot!” Taehyung exclaimed eagerly.

“Our Yoong-yoong finally went on a date?” Jimin looked up with a curious smile.

“Oooh, spill the tea!” Nayeon joined.

“It was only one date.”

You froze. So he did go to the date and he never told you a single thing. You were not sure how to feel or how to react regarding the news, but you felt betrayed.

“She’s not a catfish or anything, right?” Taehyung asked, scooting closer to Yoongi.

“She’s not.”

“Nice.” Taehyung nudged the man. “Are y’all going on another date or something?”

“I don’t think—“

“You better be!” Tae cut the guy short again. “Come on, you need this. You need to at least get laid.” He laughed.

“Hey, maybe let’s not pressure the guy like that…” Nayeon said to Taehyung.

“Let’s just celebrate the fact that Yoongi just went on a date.” Jimin chuckled.

You tried your best to not look like the conversation bothered you in any way. “Told you, you have nothing to worry about.” You said to him with a smile.

Yoongi was only silent and soon the topic changed.

The next morning you woke up very early, but most likely due to the fact that you could barely catch any snooze. You decided to make yourself a cup of tea and sat on the front porch, enjoying the cold morning air and the falling pieces of snow.

You started getting teary. You could be still sleepy, maybe it could also be the hormones acting up. It’s about time of your PMS, judging by the date, but you were not certain. What made you so upset about? You should be thrilled that your friend who you wanted so badly to get his confidence back, finally went on an actual date.

Not even seconds later that your mind started to wander at a possibility of him kissing another person, then you started tearing up again.

Sooner or later you needed to accept the cold hard truth. Jealousy was a knife.

“Isn’t it cold out there?”

You looked back, surprised to see Yoongi closing the front door behind. He took off his gloves and placed it on your lap.

“It’s fine, the tea is warm.” You reasoned.

“I don’t feel that cold.” He said, taking the seat next to you. “Why are you up so early?”

“Could ask the same to you.” You said after putting on the gloves. It was slightly bigger and your heart raced at the thought.

“Can’t sleep.” He chuckled, running his fingers through his hair. “You?”

“Same.” You realized you hadn’t looked him in his direction the whole time.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.”

You were taken aback by the sentence, but still chose to look straight at the scenery in front of you. “About what?”

“The date.” He sighed. “Actually, I only went because I felt bad that we already agreed on a time and place but I cancelled on her in such short notice before. She actually turned out to be really nice and we hung out for a bit…”

You felt sick listening to it, but you couldn’t bring yourself to say anything, instead you just nodded along.

“She asked me for a second date but I refused.”

This time you looked at him. “Why? Didn’t you say that she turned out to be really nice?”

“That day after I took her home, we almost kissed… I backed away because out of nowhere I just saw your face.” He sighed, followed by a nervous chuckle. “She’s nice…” He looked away, rubbing his neck awkwardly. “But she isn’t you.”

What?

“Yoongi, I don’t understand…”

“I don’t either, but I can’t bring myself to kiss anyone else other than you.” He looked at you with a genuine expression. “Can’t imagine you kissing anyone else either, it kills me.”

It had been the same case for you too.

“I actually feel the same way.” You let out a relieved chuckle, feeling a huge weight lifted off your shoulders. “What does this mean for us now?”

He smiled, so wide that your heart melted seeing the sight. He took your right hand and intertwined his fingers with yours. You felt your cheeks warmed up, and a giddy smile curved your lips. This definitely was different from how you felt back in the day.

“You good?” He asked with a big gummy grin.

“It doesn’t feel weird like how it was when we fake dated.” You giggled.

He smiled and held your cheek with his hand, while the other still holding yours. Midway through leaning in, he stopped and straightened his gaze at you.

“I like you, if that’s not clear by now.”

“I know.” You giggled, blushing.

He quirked his eyebrow. It seemed like he was not too pleased with you not saying the magic words back to him. He might need to kiss you first to earn it and that was the idea that Yoongi could definitely get behind.

Oh you could already imagine the chaos when your friends finally found out about this whole rollercoaster of a story.

Thank you for reading! ❤

#bts fanfic #bts fic #bts scenarios #yoongi fanfic #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fluff #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #yoongi x y/n #suga x reader #suga imagine #yoongi imagine #suga scenarios

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falmerbrook · 2 months ago

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The Falmer and Chaurus Thoughts/Headcanons

So we know the Falmer have some sort of relationship with Chaurus: much of their infrastructure and armor is made from Chaurus chitin, they have corrals that they keep Chaurus and their eggs in, and Chaurus are found pretty much exclusively among Falmer settlements and Falmer settled caves/ruins. I imagine it's also safe to say Chaurus are likely a food source for them. This relationship has been going on for at least a few millennia since we see Chaurus among the frozen Falmer that attacked the Chantry of Auri-El in Dawnguard.

Forgive my inclusion of the HUD in my screenshots lol

How did their relationship form?

I've always wondered what exactly the relationship is between the two. Is the relationship just mutualism where they both benefit from living among each other, full blown domestication of the Chaurus, or are the Chaurus wild animals the Falmer simply tame?

(for clarity's sake, taming is when an individual animal is tolerant of "human" presence while domestication is the evolutionary process where one species has evolved under the mutualistic control of another. Dogs and cattle are domesticated, foxes and deer aren't, even though they may also be kept as pets or get acclimated to human presence)

I lean towards a mutualistic relationship. While they may appear tamed or domesticated because we see the corrals that the Falmer keep them in, and we know the Falmer kill them to use their resources, the ubiquity of Falmer and Chaurus working together across most Falmer settlements we see makes me think it's unlikely to be a circumstance of taming, but the size and aggression of Chaurus makes me hesitant to assume they're domesticated. Typically domesticated species become less aggressive and smaller (with a few exceptions like horses) as they are domesticated over generations. It could be a minor touch of domestication though, since domestication involves mutualism anyway. The Falmer obviously benefit from this relationship for food, protection, materials, etc. and perhaps the Chaurus benefit from the husbandry of the Falmer protecting their young and providing them food. Perhaps the Falmer providing safety for their eggs and young has selected for Chaurus individuals that are less aggressive towards the Falmer over generations. Even if part of the reason the Falmer keep them is to kill them, it still proliferates Chaurus and increases their survivability to adulthood.

From what I can remember, we rarely if ever see Chaurus independent from Falmer settlements. Perhaps, after millennia of cooperation (although real world evolution takes way longer, I am ignoring that because it would make this whole post less fun), the Chaurus that had traits that allowed them to more easily live among the Falmer lived longer, had more offspring that lived longer, and over time the Chaurus as a species became dependent on the Falmer. Hell, with the Falmer being blind, perhaps the Falmer are somewhat dependent on Chaurus.

Falmer uses of Chaurus

Which leads my to my next set of thoughts, what other ways could the Falmer use or depend on Chaurus. In canon, we know they use their chitin shells for armor and building structures, but we also have concept art depicting them riding Chaurus as well.

Remember how I mentioned earlier that horses increased in size as they were domesticated. Maybe they same is true for Chaurus?

As I mentioned in a previous post, I think the idea of Chaurus as mounts could be interesting paired with the Falmer's lack of sight. If you need to move as a group, transport materials, or navigate complex cave systems, riding an animal that can traverse them more easily (both because they can see and because, as we see in ESO, they can climb walls easier) would make the Falmer as a group more mobile and organized over larger distances.

Other potential uses for Chaurus includes food, both the meat of the adults and the eggs. While they probably have a few other sources of meat underground from the stray mammal, Chaurus would be a much more reliable source of protein. Chaurus are probably also good at defense, both in being able to warn of potential threats and attack them. I imagine your average Falmer is more aware of the meaning of various Chaurus calls and vocalizations, which means the response of the Chaurus could help the Falmer figure out the nature of a potential threat.

Chaurus Hunters

The Chaurus we see among the Falmer in the games appear to actually be the larval stage of Chaurus. At the end of this life stage they form cocoons and eventually emerge as Chaurus Hunters, wasp-like flying bugs (tangent: I thought these were predators that hunted Chaurus for years lol). But what relationship do the Falmer have with this phase of the Chaurus' life cycle? Truthfully, we know very little about Chaurus Hunters. We do observe that their cocoons are found near falmer settlements, which makes sense since that's where Chaurus are present, and we know they are tougher enemies in-game than the other Chaurus variants. UESP also states, "While Chaurus and Chaurus Reapers are set to be "pets" of Falmer, Chaurus Hunters (of both varieties) are not, likely due to them having to "hatch" from a cocoon, first." I'll be honest, I'm not sure exactly what this means since I think it's talking from a gameplay mechanics perspective. This does mean, for our purposes at least, that we don't get an opportunity to see them present among Falmer.

So I have two ideas for what the relationship is between Falmer and Chaurus Hunters: 1) They basically maintain the same mutualistic relationship, and we just don't see it in practice because of gameplay limitations (they all start out in cocoons in Skyrim and aren't present at all in ESO). Perhaps, in this case, the Falmer are still an advantageous ally because they protect the cocoons. The Hunters could be beneficial to the Falmer as they can navigate more easily (although I'm not sure someone could ride one of them) and are more formidable foes. My other, less conventional idea is 2) the mutualistic relationship between the Falmer and Chaurus is over after the larval stage. After emerging from their cocoon, Chaurus Hunters are too aggressive or hard to corral for the Falmer, and they live on their own in the caves of Skyrim independent of the Falmer. This could explain why we see so little of them in the games. This theory makes way less sense (especially because it would mean the potential larval Chaurus stage is the one that lays the eggs), but I think it would be an interesting relationship to explore!

Dwemer, Falmer, and Chaurus

One last little idea I'd like to put forth (and, disclaimer, this is my most "making shit up" thought of this post) is what did the Dwemer think of the Chaurus, having lived underground with them before disappearing themselves? The Dwemer don't really give me the "getting along with nature and animals" vibes, so I'm going to go ahead and assume Chaurus were just really big pests. What if the Falmer used that to their advantage when they rebelled/went to war with/attacked(?) the Dwemer in the decades before their disappeance (context, if you aren't aware). Perhaps this is the origin of the mutualistic relationship between the two.

Art time

Finally, it's probably a job or task among Falmer to take care of the group's Chaurus. I imagine it's not the safest job given how big and aggressive Chaurus seem to get. Since I already did that post about Falmer attire, I thought I'd make another one based on that idea :)

#falmer #chaurus #skyrim #the elder scrolls #tes #mine #headcanon #my art #had to falmer post a bit for branding purposes. its been like a year #also ive finally encountered them in eso and while that game does basically nothing with them seeing them still makes my brain wander #i do very much enjoy how in eso you can see them interacting with chaurus. and they have little ones. very cute #no hunters though strangely #long post

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goingmerryfics · 6 months ago

Note

Could you write reader in a poly relationship with Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji? I love your writing <3

The Germa Boys’ Plaything - Ichiji, Niji, Yonji x Reader

Content: ‘forced’ relationship, jealousy, these boys are toxic and unfeeling but you like them anyway, love language talk, quick mention of Judge

Notes* I’m glad I’ve gotten the chance to meet these three already! I definitely think a relationship with one of them would be tricky, let alone three. So here are my thoughts on a poly relationship with these boys!

Ichiji, Niji & Yonji

The relationship had started without a plan or a label. You were simply… chosen one day and told by Ichiji that you were to be his personal handmaid. What you didn’t know is that would entail more duties than what you had signed up for when you began your work with Germa 66

It became more and more obvious that Ichiji liked you and that he just… Couldn’t express that. He simply labeled you as his one day and then you two were a couple. There wasn’t much input you could have on the situation

Of course, his brothers also decided they wanted to be involved and it became a whole thing

They’re always arguing over you. Jealousy runs high- so high that they’re not afraid to bring it outside for a fight just to decide who gets to sit next to you

Neither of them are the nicest partners, but they also don’t treat you too badly

Unfortunately, you like them, too. So you don’t actually mind being in this situation

Of course, there are long times when you don’t get to see them. When the boys are on missions or training, you are explicitly ordered to attend to your duties and not to be as distraction

By now, you’ve forgotten where the line was drawn between ‘handmaiden’ and ‘girlfriend’. But even that label didn’t feel right to give to yourself when it came to Ichiji, Niji, or Yonji. You were more of a plaything sometimes

They definitely make you feel like a doll at times. A toy to fight over at times

It had never been labeled specifically as a polyamory, but that’s 100% what it is

Because none of the three cared to actually sit down and work things out, the lines are very blurred when it comes to the relationship you shared with each of them. There were no rules or guidelines for each other to follow, making it a very confusing arrangement

Dates were rare, too. Usually the boys just wanted you around them as a pretty thing to keep by their side. But rare does not equal non-existent, thankfully

Ichiji knows you best, being the first man to become involved with you romantically. He knows your birthday, he orders your favorite flowers to your room sometimes, and he’s the first one to think to have a private dinner organized for the both of you with your favorite food as the meal, paired with whatever wine works best with that

Niji on the other hand, is more of a physical lover. He’s always got his hands on you somewhere if he can reach you, and dates with him are any situation where he can touch you. A walk around the castle with his arm around your waist, having you sit in his lap and making out in the library, and the like

Yonji is the most expressive out of the three and a beast with his words. He knows just what to say to make you feel special- often showering you with compliments. He likes to whisper things to you whenever he passes by as well, whether it be a sweet compliment of your outfit and how it looks on you, or a heated promise of a late night visit later. Yonji is awful with dates and tends to forget to organize them or just loses interest in whatever you’re doing together quickly. You usually take the reins on your ‘dates’, and end up doing things that are quick or simple together

You’re not sure if Judge approves of you or if he even knows of the situation. You’re not going to be the one to tell him, that’s for sure

#one piece #harleywritesop #hwop #spoilers #one piece spoilers #vinsmoke ichiji #vinsmoke yonji #vinsmoke niji #vinsmoke judge #vinsmoke ichiji x reader #vinsmoke niji x reader #vinsmoke yonji x reader #vinsmoke siblings #germa 66

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anthurak · 2 months ago

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So a few times now, I’ve mentioned the idea of Lute representing the ‘Adam’ to Charlie’s and Vaggie’s representing of Lilith and Lucifer, and Emily possibly representing Eve. Mostly in a joking and/or shipping manner in regards to the Toxic Yuri potential of Vaggie/Lute, the fun potential of Emilute or the possibility of Charlie and Lute having their own version of “Now, I am going to FUCK YOU!” (this time with actual fucking XD)

However, after giving it some more thought I’m now thinking more seriously in narrative terms about how Lute could actually make for a VERY interesting foil to Adam. Both as a character, and in terms of her relationship with Vaggie contrasting Adam and Lilith.

(Before I go any further I would like to clarify that YES, I am well aware that Vaggie ALSO has a lot of parallels to Lucifer as well. As I detailed here, I think it’s pretty clear at this point that Charlie’s and Vaggie’s parallels to the former’s parents really cut BOTH ways. This theory is simply focusing on the parallels Vaggie has to Lilith.)

The thing is, if it turns out that Lute has some toxic, repressed, homophobic hate-crush on Vaggie, and has had these feelings for much of the time they spent together but always considered them ‘wrong’ thanks to ingrained homophobia (whether coming from just Adam within the Exorcist organization or even Heaven as a whole), that would actually represent a PERFECT contrast to Adam’s relationship with Lilith.

Because Lilith and Adam were literally made for each other, were placed in an environment that pushed them together, Adam pursued Lilith, and Lilith rejected him.

Whereas Vaggie and Lute seem to have been two random people brought together for a job, could likely have been in an environment that wanted them (romantically) separate, Lute tried to repress/reject her feelings for Vaggie and ultimately it is LUTE who pushes Vaggie away.

Basically, Lute and Vaggie potentially feel like a perfect opposite of Adam and Lilith while still ultimately ending up in the same position. Arriving to the same destination but from a completely opposite direction.

Furthermore, I think this makes the potential of the show exploring an ‘enemies to (polyamorous) lovers’ plot with Vaggie and Lute not just interesting, but even narratively VIABLE.

Because while the relationship between Lilith and Adam is a bridge that has been THOROUGHLY burned at this point and likely never would have worked to begin with, there could still be hope for Vaggie and Lute.

Again, we’ve already seen a lot of very clear parallels drawn between Charlie and Vaggie with Lucifer and Lilith. And given how the latter pair’s relationship has developed some serious problems, I think it’s easy to imagine how Charlie and Vaggie could end up representing a major narrative foil Lucifer and Lilith, ie; Chaggie not making the same mistakes as Lucilith and generally succeeding where they failed.

On top of this, we’re also already seeing Emily showcasing some notable parallels to Eve in her dynamic with Charlie, something that gets even more interesting with the reveal that Lucifer, Lilith AND Eve seem to have had some kind of relationship together at one point, yet likely also didn’t end well.

Add onto that the potential parallels Vaggie and Lute could have to Lilith and Adam, and I think Hazbin could be presenting a major theme of ‘current generation not repeating the mistakes of their predecessors’.

And in Lute’s case, I think this could take the form of her essentially doing the opposite of what Adam did. In that while Adam seems to have thrown aside/repressed whatever resentment he had for Lilith (and Eve) leaving him and spent the last few thousand years partying in Heaven and once a year slaughtering sinners in Hell, I imagine Lute will instead only fixate harder on Vaggie and spend the rest of the show trying to get (very homoerotic) revenge on her and Charlie. To compare to a now-classic example of this trope, I think it’s easy to imagine Lute being the Catra to Vaggie’s Adora.

And yet, all this conflict ends up opening the possibility for Vaggie and Lute to actually talk about and gain some kind of RESOLUTION to the mutual issues of their dynamic. Whether it’s Lute venting/screaming her repressed issues/feelings at Vaggie, or both being put in a situation where Vaggie gets a chance to simply talk to Lute without all the fighting.

And of course, all this could lead to Lute getting de-programed off her long-ingrained homophobia. Maybe partly via a totally-no-homo rebound with Emily that ends up becoming VERY-homo?

All of which could ultimately lead to Lute reconciling with Vaggie and even getting together with her as part of the aforementioned polycule (aka, ‘Charlie’s Harem’).

In short, Vaggie and Lute could end up representing the biggest foil to Lilith and Adam by being a version of that relationship that actually WORKS.

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thisismeracing · 2 years ago

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The (un)lucky one | CL16

― Pairing: Charles Leclerc x fem!reader (she/her) ― Word count: 2.4k ― Warnings: not proofread; mentions of food; a bit of jealous!charles; angsty but fluffy ending. ― Summary: Charles and Yn have a history back from when he was at alfa romeo, Yn used to be his PR assistant, and they were close to best friends. Now, years later, they are still friends, but Yn is Carlos’ assistant now, and she can help but root for her new friend and boss. Meanwhile, Charles is having trouble with no longer having her undying support all the time. He’s been through an unlucky season on the speedway, will he be unlucky in love too? ― A/n: I actually liked this far better than I thought I would, so I hope you guys enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! Let me know your thoughts by reblogging and/or leaving me an ask (anons are on) *mwah* 🤍

⁕ Based on this request. ⁕ my masterlist and my taglist ⁕ you can support my writing by reblogging, and leaving a comment (don’t forget to follow me if you like the piece)

It is easy to associate someone with a smell, taste, or color. Especially when those things are very particular. One day you see them wearing a certain shade of yellow; the next thing you know, every yellow item will remind you of them. Not of the clothes they were wearing that day, but of them. Then, they tell you their coffee order, and, of course, every time you see a venti, caramel frappuccino with almond milk, it’s their face you’ll see. When you smell the coffee, their perfume will come around too.

What Charles didn’t know is that these associations are common when you are in love.

And he was, in fact, in love with Yn.

He was just unaware.

Yn was his PR Assistant back when he was just a curious and hopeful boy in Alfa Romeo. They hit it off quickly, not only because she was young like him, but because she was always honest and just so fun to be around. She would walk into the room, red Converse on her feet, a coffee cup in her hands, along with a small notepad, and a pen either around her neckless or on her ear, and Charles could swear time would stop to let her pass by.

Yn was an event.

And he was happy to witness it.

She was also very organized. She had everything noted and ready to go in a minute. She was quick with solutions to seemingly hard problems and set on her beliefs. About the latter, people would say that she was simply stubborn like Charles. But he knew better. She was passionate and driven, and he… well, he fell in love, and he didn’t notice it.

Until they moved to Ferrari.

They have been working together for about three years now, and she had to switch drivers when they started in Ferrari. That meant she was now Carlos’ PR Assistant, and he got to have her full attention – something Charles hated. But he knew her before him, and he knew her better, that’s what he kept telling himself whenever he saw the two of them interact, whenever she had a meeting with his coworker, and not him, or whenever he watched Carlos get her coffee order wrong. He knew her better. That wasn’t much, but somehow it was enough for him.

Until it wasn’t.

“Hey, Char,” Yn smiles when the Monegasque approaches the table, bending to leave a kiss on her cheeks, and leaving a friendly tap on his teammate’s shoulders.

“I got you your favorite.” He has that small prideful smile on his face when he pushes the white cup towards Yn, but as fast as the smile comes, it goes when she frowns and a bit her lips.

“Thank you, but Carlos got it to me,” she shook the cup in front of her and winked at her friend and ex-boss.

“Oh- but Carlos doesn’t know your order.”

“I finally got it right after a thousand times missing either the oat milk or the blonde espresso,” Sainz proudly stated, sipping on his water.

“And did you get-”

“Caramel syrup, sí.”

“Four pumps?”

Carlos nodded, “2 pumps of frapp roast. I’m telling you, I’ve learned it.”

Yn noticed the way Charles’ shoulders slumped just the sightless, but she thought it had something to do with the fact that he wasted time getting her something that she wouldn’t drink in the end. She did not notice, however, how his eyebrows furrowed and his grip on his cellphone got stronger watching her and Carlos go around what they were doing on Sunday before and after the race. He missed doing it with her, missed having her undying attention, missed the certainty that it doesn’t matter how boring a meeting or media duty would be because she was always just some steps away.

The next day, Charles is getting ready for the race in the garage, and Yn is around cracking jokes about something one of the engineers did. When she turns, Charles is in his white racing suit, zipping up the front end. Yn lips tip up in a small smile, one he can read as a nostalgic one by the way her eyes roam around the piece of clothing, and takes in a small breath of air. It’s endearing.

“Missing the old days?” Charles asks, sporting a playful smirk, and Yn rolls her eyes teasingly.

“How’d you know?”

“It used to be just us against the world. I learned to read you.” He confessed. He almost wanted to add that he missed the old days too, but because her attention and affection would be all his, her time and her eyes would be for him.

Yn took a step closer to him and started helping the Monegasque with the front velcro of his suit. “All this white reminded me of Alfa Romeo’s suit, but though I miss our younger days, I think you look far better wearing Ferrari merch.” This time her smile is pensive and then playful after a beat.

Charles's hands itched to hold her by the waist, bring her close, and read her eyes, but when he was about to do so, Carlos called Yn from the other side of the garage. Yn gets on the tip of her red converses and kisses his forehead, something they used to do after becoming friends on their first year on the grid, and then, just like that, she leaves to attend to whatever Sainz needed.

When it was time to get going and get into the car, Charles tried to get a glimpse of Yn, not even a hug or their traditional forehead kiss which hasn’t happened before races in a while, he just wanted to find her eyes, see how they would silently wish him a good race, but instead, he found her with Carlos, her back to him. He watched as Yn patted his shoulder and then got on the tip of her toes to hug him. A long hug. A hug he wanted to receive.

Charles sacked up all his anger and jealousy and got into his car. It would be a good race. The car was fairly better than the last races, and the Ferrari duo got a p2 and p3 position which increased the chances of double points.

It's a tight race. Carlos and Charles almost lose their positions during the first few laps, but they were able to hold it until Leclerc needed a tire change. And when he came back the orders were clear: Sainz would not fight with his teammate and would give up his position for Charles. Everyone saw how Yn's face changed when Vasseur spoke through the pit-to-car audio, and man, wasn't she pissed. The camera panelled on her, and she cursed asking why couldn't Carlos have this one.

By the last lap, Charles was p3 and Carlos p5, and it was all the team's fault. Both of them could have had a podium, but strategy wasn't really Ferrari's strongest subject.

When the three winners gathered in the small room to wait a few minutes for the podium, Charles had a small smile on his face, one which went away when the big screen in the room showed some of the highlights of the race, adding garage reactions this time. He saw Yn questioning why Carlos couldn't fight him, why wouldn't they give her boss and friend his well-deserved podium. Charles knew she fought nails and teeth for those she loved, and she wouldn't hide her disappointment with Ferrari's decision.

He expected, however, that she would choose him to fight for because he was her closest friend there. He was with her the longest. He would have fought nails and teeth for her win.

The podium celebration didn’t feel as good as it would back when he would have Yn’s undying support. Charles still smiled, still waved, still tried to seem happy with his achievement, and he kept the friendly face up until he got back in the garage and Yn was there by Carlos' side as usual. Sainz congratulated him on his podium, but the Monegasque only nodded, lacing his fingers with Yn’s and walking straight to his driver’s room.

“What the fuck was that mouthy response to the team's order of letting me pass Carlos?”

Yn was still surprised by how he laced their fingers and almost dragged her to his room, so hearing his hushed and stressed tone made her frown deepen.

“Who do you think you’re talking to in that tone?”

Charles’ jaw tightened. “Don’t try deflecting, Yn. I saw how mad you were when I passed Carlos.”

“And what about it, Charles?”

“I can’t believe you’re acting so unbothered by it. It was a shitty attitude, and you know it.”

“Because everyone’s supposed to adore you and always choose you?”

“BECAUSE YOU’RE MY BEST FRIEND, AND YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO ROOT FOR ME, TO PICK ME, NOT CARLOS, NOT LANDO, NOT LEWIS, BUT ME!” He exploded, voice raised, hands gripping his champagne-wet hair.

Yn took one step in his direction, pointing her index finger at him, “Don’t you dare to scream at me, Charles. I won’t let you work off your frustrations on me, especially when you don’t have reasons to be angry!”

“I DON’T?” he screamed again, and she raised her eyebrows. “You think watching my own team destroy my chances at being a world champion is not reason enough to be angry? Or having your best friend distance herself from you? Oh, wait! And how about seeing the woman I love rooting for a different driver?” this time his voice wasn’t as high as before, but he was still loud, he was still angry.

What he seemed to forget was that he and Yn were like a mirror most of the time. They would reflect each other’s energy and feelings. So if Charles was angry, Yn was furious. And if he was heartbroken, she was devastated.

“I was your friend before him! I’m your best friend,” he whispered, finally letting tiredness and sadness catch up to him.

“You are indeed, but not everything is about you or us. Others deserve to win too, and they deserve some love and attention. Carlos deserved it today. We’ll talk when you’re not acting like a dick and screaming at me for being oblivious to the feelings you kept hidden.” She stated before turning away and leaving, slamming the door on her way out.

Charles sat down on his chair and let his head hang between his shoulders. His eyes were burning and he felt like cursing and screaming again when he heard Carlos’ voice. Now, Carlos was his friend, his teammate, a good guy, someone he even liked to have around, but he was jealous of him, he couldn’t lie to himself anymore. And right now, he was the last person he wanted to see.

“You could have told me, you know?” the Spanish closed the door behind him slowly.

“Not now, Carlos,” Charles mumbled.

“She doesn’t like me. I mean- she does like me, but not as much as she likes you, not as much as she loves you. You’re two tontos.”

“Well, you can bet she hates me now. I take it you heard how I talked to her, right? The whole garage must have heard.”

Carlos chuckled at Charles' dramatic antics. “Not everyone heard, but yeah, some people did… I don’t think she hates you though, she’s just angry with the way you talked and probably angry you didn’t tell her you loved her sooner.”

“I’m usually unlucky, and I was afraid-”

“No, Charles,” Carlos interrupted. “The team's strategy is shitty, we take it as if we were the unlucky ones, but we are actually pretty lucky. Look at the life you have. Look at how many people love you. The woman you love loves you back. How’s that being unlucky?”

“Yeah, I was afraid my love life would be as shitty as my racing career.”

“I’ll let that one pass because you have the right to be upset for a bit after this stressful weekend, but you don’t have a shitty career, and you know it.”

Charles nods, snickering.

“I was jealous, you know,” he confessed after a couple of minutes in silence. “You deserve to win too. You deserve to be a world champion just like I do, but I wanted her support. I wanted her to choose me even though everyone else did. She was the only one that mattered. But I’m an idiot, and I didn’t tell her that. How could she guess?”

“Yeah, life is unfair sometimes, and feelings are hard to deal with, but the good thing is that you can work on those things most of the time. Shower, drink some water, get some food in, and then when you’re calm enough, go to her and let Yn know your feelings. Again. Gently this time, preferably.” Sainz chuckles lightly between the last sentence, and Charles rolls his eyes playfully.

And that’s exactly what Charles did. That’s how he found himself breathing in and out in front of Yn’s hotel room door. He rings the bell after almost five minutes of silent pep talk. When Yn opens the door, she’s already in her pajamas, and he can almost see tear stains on her cheeks. Charles feels like punching his own face because clearly, he was the one to blame.

“What do you want, Charls?” her tone was tight, and she did not invite him in, but the fact that Yn used his nickname gave Charles enough hope and courage to talk.

“I- I’m sorry for earlier,” he started. “I’m truly sorry for all these years. I should have been honest with you. I’m sorry I exploded and screamed at you. I should have told you I loved you before. And you’re right. I’m not the center of the world. Carlos deserves to win too. But it’s just- I’m usually unlucky in some aspects, and I was afraid-”

Yn rolls her eyes and grins playfully at him, interrupting his messy speech. “No, Charles, you’re actually lucky because I do love you back,” she grins, and he stares at her for a beat before crashing their lips into a passionate kiss.

And Charles felt like the luckiest guy in the world. No winning cup felt as sweet as having the girl of his dreams loving him back.

― ⋆🪩 VOICEMAIL: Every time you reblog and comment on my stuff a fairy is born somewhere, make sure you're creating glittery fairies around the world hihi *forehead kiss*

taglist: @sachaa-ff @mickslover @formulakay3 @mishaandthebrits @crimeshowjunkie @chaoticevilbakugo @fdl305 @wondergirl101ks @saintslewis @81astri @iloveyou3000morgan @carojasmin2204 @smiithys @f1kota @shhhchriss @lunnnix @balekane_mohafe @uuuseeerrr12 @karmabyfernando @crashingwavesofeuphoria @culpamias @pinksstrawberry @callsign-scully @moonyschocolate13 @v1naco @piggyinthesea

⁕ my masterlist and my taglist

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fluff #f1 angst #f1 x reader #f1 fandom #f1 imagines #f1 fanfic #charles leclerc angst #millie writes #cl16 #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot

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anon-sect · 9 months ago

Note

A famous actor who transformed his fan into his socks. Is an a good Idea for a story, isn't it?

Picture source: internet

A local radio station was running fund drive for a charity. Sending on to the fun drive also put's your name into a lottery. A winner would be picked from the lottery to meet a celebrity of their choice that was on the list of over a hundred celebrities that volunteered for the fund drive.

Jake had always wanted to meet Ryan Reynolds in person. He was excited when he saw his name on the list of celebrities. He sent in a good amount to the fund drive. They emailed him back that his name was entered and the celebrity he picked would be the prize if his name was picked from the pot in thirty days.

Thirty days later, Jake had received a notification that his name was picked, and the celebrity was also contacted. The shocker was that the actor invited him to his home to meet in person as another part of the prize for donating to the fund drive. Jake couldn't wait to finally meet him in person.

The organization paid for his flight over to meet Ryan Reynolds and even the hotel he would be staying at. What Jake didn't expect was that Ryan came to pick him up personally to drive back to his place. Jake felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

Once he got to Ryan's place, he was amazed that he was actually at his house. It was enough to ride in the car with the actor and now to spend time at his house was a dream come true.

While Ryan was chatting with his guest, he felt a slight hole in the big toe of one sock and the pinky toe of the other sock. Both socks had a hole in them. This pair did last at least the last three years. Some crazy fan paid him to just be his socks forever. He thought is was crazy, but the fan wanted it so badly. That decision turned out to be one of the best he made. Human transformed socks were way more durable than normal socks. He would have to trash these socks, but he didn't have another spare on hand. He then looked at this fan who was so excited to meet him.

"I want to show you a magic trick, if you don't mind." Ryan spoke to Jake.

Jake was curious. "I didn't know you did magic tricks." He spoke, wondering what he would do. He saw Ryan get up and come back with two drinks. He handed one to him and they both guzzled it down. "So what trick are you going to do?" He asked.

Ryan opened up the TF Ray app on his phone. 'You will see." He spoke as he snapped the flash on his camera. Jake was replaced with a brand-new pair of human transformed socks. He picked them up. "My last pair of special socks finally has a hole in them after three long years. Maybe you can last even longer." Ryan paused. "I put in triple the durability formula in your drink than I did with the last one. So, you should be my socks for at least seven- or eight-years minimum." He took off his shoes and removed his old sock. He put on his new socks and put his shoes back on. He walked over to the trash can and threw them in without even saying goodbye. They were simply socks to him after so long on his feet. His new socks would get the same treatment.

Ryan called the hotel to tell them that the guy left early to go back home, and to check him out of the room. He wiggled his toes in his new socks. It was something special to use a person as his socks. He rather enjoyed controlling a fan with his feet, thanks to that first guy. This guy probably didn't want to be socks, but oh well, he was his socks now.

Jake had mixed feelings about his new existence. He really loved this actor, but he didn't want to be stuck as socks for the next eight years or so. Not to mention, the actor's shoes didn't smell all that great. He wanted to be out of his boots soon. Being walked on and toe wiggled showed just how much the actor now controlled his life. He was completely being dominated by his favorite actor. The bad part was that no one would even know. Only Ryan would know how special his socks were. There was only one good thing about his condition, he would get to spend a lot of time with Ryan, even though he would only be regarded as just an object on his feet.

#inanimate transformation #foot domination #shrinkage #tf story #sock transformation #permanent transformation #ryan reynolds

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juniperdugong · 11 months ago

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Perfection {Teaser}

No one has looked at you like that. With such admiration, such kindness. Taking in all your details and intricacies. Playing with a piece of paper and through it piecing together what was meant to be you. Eyes glancing back and forth with a smile. Oh god, why did the mortician have to have such a sickly sweet smile as he looked at your corpse? Why did your soul not leave when it was meant to?

Pairing: mortician!mingyu x corpse!fem!reader

Genre: Mortician!au, Horror!au || Fluff, Crack (simply bc this concept is not normal in the slightest babes), Romance, Angst(?)

Warnings: Mentions of death, corpses, and gore (Nothing in depth and nothing intended to disturb) || Necrophilia(?), It's more like Necro-romance, aka romantic attraction to a corpse. || Nudity || {Please let me know if there are other warnings you would like me to add}

Teaser WC: 518

Songs that inspired this fic

A/N: Hey, people...First fic and it's one based on all the different renditions of Frankenstein...Because of course, I would. My incessant need to write stories with insane premises is shining right now. If you listen to the playlist I hope you don't mind the mix of goth, rock, and folk. Oh lord, in my mind I just feel like Mingyu would be the type of hopeless romantic to fall in love with a dead person. I hope y'all enjoy!

Not proofread!

Series Masterlist

He was oh so gentle with you. The way he was careful with his movements as he heaved your stretcher onto the table. Your eyes followed him as he went ahead and gathered various things from around the room. Setting them on a table near you. A deep breath settled in him as he scanned your body. You felt vulnerable in this state, not much you could do about it but still. He got a clipboard and read through it. As he did he circled you, tapping gently at different parts of your body as he went along. Assessing your situation and what he would have to make "presentable" no doubt. Then he stopped. Pausing as he made his way back towards your head. Another sigh as he gazed at you. "You were so pretty. I wish we had met under other circumstances y/n." If a heart was in your body it would be beating so fast right now. His hand reached out and grazed your forehead. Is he moving the hair from your face? If you had working veins you would be blushing wildly. This is crazy. You've decided that this is crazy. Your soul for some reason has decided to stick to your body instead of following the heavenly trumpets towards the pearly gates of paradise. And here you were, prisoner in your own skin, unable to move or speak or do much of anything. And the only thing on your mind is the man who is preparing your body??? Oh, Christ. What the actual hell is happening? Also, why does it seem like the mortician is just as invested in you? Are morticians supposed to have organ jars in their preparation rooms? You suppose they do take care of those sorts of things, plus he's the professional in this situation, right? "The more I look at you…The more I wish…What am I saying?" he shook his head with a huff. Your eyes were open, not like you could willingly close them, but you were somehow able to see in this state. You could see the way the protective gown fell on his arm, very faintly outlining some sort of muscle. The way his breath caught on the mask, not shallowly at all either, a heavy breath. Almost like when he looked at you you had taken it away and he was grasping to get it back. The gloves that held snug to his big fingers, his warm hands, the ones that graced you gently with every touch. So caught up in memorizing his features you hadn't noticed that he was tracing your inner arm and staring right back at your lifeless eyes. "Actually, you might be perfect and these might just be perfect circumstances y/n…" he tilted his head as he said those words, gazing deeply at all of you, taking you in like some person at the other end of the bar. Why was he walking away? What did he mean by perfect? Is he walking over with one of those jars right now? Lord, you should've followed the trumpets…

{Right on time, just minutes after voting closed, let me know what you think, love you all!}

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hotchfiles · 1 year ago

Text

third. damn your love.

pairing: james x fem!reader.

content warnings: james being kind of an ass, cheating on lily, lily will be probably shit talked (i luv her i'm very sorry !), mistress!reader, uhhh cursing, not totally AU but like... canon divergent i would say. probably hurt/no comfort unless i switch the ending but--

worth mentioning: reader insert with no use of names or “y/n”. paragraphs completely in italic are flashbacks. pro quidditch player!james. muggle born!reader.

word count: 1,2k

chapter 3

Days had passed since the last time you spoke to James, and if it was up to you, things would stay as they were. But it had never been that way. Everything would always depend on James' desire. You rarely tried to communicate with him, afraid his girlfriend would catch you both. That was also why you didn't seek for him. You remained quiet, waiting for him or, on days like these, waiting and hoping he wouldn't show up.

You were still very much upset about what happened last time, but unfortunately, you were more disappointed in yourself than actually angry at James. You simply hated the power you let him have over you, hated how much you wanted to do or say something and still giving in to his whims. It was as if everything changed when he got too close, as if it were just the two of you in the vastness of the universe, no one to interfere.

Even so, you were getting tired of it, just as you had grown tired of trying to discuss what you were and what future you had continuing such a relationship. You were beginning to realize that the person who might be messing things up was you; after all, you were the mistress, not Lily. They were the happy couple and you were the one meddling where you shouldn't.

You shook your head quickly, trying to forget such thoughts, you were taking advantage of the solitude of the night, surrounded by photos and documents from work, you had decided about a month ago to change the way your department was dealing with its archive, but still hadn't had the time to do it, mostly because of work itself but also... Because of James. You rolled your eyes at the realization that you were thinking about him again and turned back to the photos.

Your department mostly archived the obliviations revolving everything around what happened and not who it happened to. It was a good way to actually find the files you might need, but when it got to the file what really matters is the people. Who were the muggles, where do they live, how do they live, why were they exposed. And those details were too scattered around. Some of your colleagues said you just cared too much about the muggles you wiped the memories from, which you did, but it was also a matter of organization.

Before you had a chance to lie down after all the work you've been doing, you heard a frantic knocking at the door, and given it was 2 A.M, you knew who it was. You take a long, deep breath and debate whether you should open it or not, but seeing that the lights were still on and he would notice them, you felt like you had no choice, even if that wasn't entirely true.

You mentally cursed yourself and opened the door, his hands were quick to push you against the wall, slamming the door close with his foot as his lips worked your neck.

"James..." Putting both hands on his chest, you prepared yourself to push him away, trying to find the strength to get him out of there. "Stop," it came out weakly, much more than you intended to, almost letting yourself be carried away by his touches.

But then, a flash of awareness came back to you as you heard him groan, everything you thought about earlier and everything you wanted to say to him with it, you felt your strength return and pushed him away, looking at him showing as much seriousness and firmness as you could master, your breath still uneven.

"Come on, honey, we've moved past this little game of you pretending you don't want me and denying me, come here," he said, approaching you again. You watched him come closer once more and moved aside, walking towards the kitchen. You needed to drink something if you were really intending to continue with this.

Sure, your first option had been to avoid him for at least a couple of weeks so you could organize your thoughts, but it was simply impossible to avoid James.

"We need to talk," you said coldly after filling one of your largest wine glasses. You heard him sigh, took a sip of the drink, and felt a knot in your stomach when you saw him sit at the small kitchen table. You were definitely not expecting that. You were absolutely sure he would deflect and try to take you to bed, as he had done the last time you said those words. Seeing him willing to talk hit you hard, and you lost the words you wanted to say, resorting to the first ones that came to your mind.

"You disappeared," you shrugged.

"As if you weren't used to it," James raised an eyebrow in your direction and looked at your glass. He knew your didn't drink casually, only if you were nervous. "If you must know, I wanted to come earlier, but Lily wouldn't leave my side after I turned down Wimbourne's offer. So we're like, totally wasting time."

"You seemed so sure. What changed your mind?"

"Just decided not to keep rubbing her the wrong way. Know her well enough, don't feel like dealing with her making my life hell over a stupid transfer."

You felt an unfamiliar anger take over you. You absolutely hated the way he talked about her, as if she was the worst person to be with, such an annoying, bad girlfriend. If she was so bad, why was he with her and not with you?

You drank the remaining contents of your glass in one go, sighed loudly, and looked at him, taking in every detail of him—the curls, the lips, the glasses you liked so much, the tired eyes but never without that sparkle you knew so well. Watching him always calmed you down in some way, but it didn't work as you thought it would. You were too tired.

"You're a bloody bastard," you were firm but he shrugged, smiling slightly. "Not a joke. You're a dickhead. And I've let myself be made a fool by you. I've let you into my house, complaining about your girlfriend, and I've let you use me for almost an year now, hoping that you would change."

You shouted what had been stuck in your throat for so long, and he got up, realizing how serious you actually were.

"You agreed to this," he said coldly, crossing his arms and biting his lower lip. "We haven't been a couple for years, and we agreed on that."

"Bollocks! You came to my apartment and intoxicated me with your stupid scent, with your touches, your voice. You know I've never been able to get over you, and you take advantage of that when you're fed up with her."

You ran your hands over your face in agony, trying to control the tears that were already inevitably trying to escape your eyes. You passed by him awkwardly and went to the living room, sitting on the sofa.

"Where are you trying to go with this?" He asked from the kitchen.

"Where are we trying to go with this?" You replied back, looking at the floor, and silence was your only answer. "What am I to you? We spent almost four years not being friends, talking to each other once in a while and meeting at some parties because of Sirius and Rem. Then last year, you show up at my door drunk, saying you need me. What am I to you? Come on, tell me."

"You're my best friend, and apparently, you're in a bad mood, on your period or something," he said, leaving the kitchen, and you watched him leave, frustration building up in your stomach. "I'll call you later when you're back to yourself."

"Yeah, go away! You never talk when you know you're wrong anyway, bloody coward," he slammed the door behind him after he left and you got up, even angrier, grabbing one of the vases from your shelf and screaming in frustration as you threw it at the door, breaking it in tiny pieces that now covered the floor.

You looked at him with tears in your eyes and you knew surely that James could feel how hurt you were by his actions, and that was your intention, you were silent, not having said a word to him since he had arrived to your house, despite his countless attempts to talk to you and apologise, your stubbornness was lasting almost an hour now and you knew he was about to lose his temper, so you decided it was time to speak before you weren't in the right anymore.

"Where were you?" Your voice was low, tired, frustrated, and you had all reason for that, leaving you alone in the hospital's waiting room while your mum was freaking out all over the place seemed like a reasonable reason to be upset.

"Quidditch practice, c'mon, try looking into this from my perspective." James tries to get close to you again and you move away, wiping away the tears that were stubborn enough to keep rolling down your cheeks, you cross your arms and he scoffs at your denial.

"And what's that, really? Using that bloody mirror so I could tell you my father had a heart attack and I needed you, and then proceeding to continue to play? Is that it?"

"What? No… I'm new to the team, I can't tarnish my name by running out of training." You roll your eyes and it's your turn to scoff, throwing your arms up in the air, not believing what you're hearing. "Don't do that, listen to me, take me seriously. My grandfather's heart went through worse countless times, and he was always fine. I knew your dad would be fine."

"Yes, I remember, because I was by your side during all those times." You don't even mention how different it was just by the fact your dad was a muggle, in a muggle hospital, no healing magic to help. You glanced at the clock, it was late and you were both alone, your mom forcing you to stay there and rest; you feel your eyes wet and don't bother trying to stop them from falling, "James, as a friend, you're my best friend, if you're not going to be with me when I need you, who will? Will quidditch always be above me, above us?"

"Please don't talk like that, honey." He runs a hand through his hair in frustration and sits down next to you, lowering his head and covering his face with his hands. "I'm sorry, you're right."

"Because if it's always like this, maybe we should break up," you say at once, feeling your heart clench and holding back the sobs that join the tears.

"You're tired, go to bed, I'll make you some tea, I'll stay here in case you need me in the middle of the night." He ignored what you said completely, getting up and going into the kitchen. Part of you felt relieved that he hadn't accepted the suggestion, but a large part was annoyed that he'd simply run away from confrontation, that he'd been such a coward.

It had always been quite rare for you and James to actually fight, maybe that wasn't a good thing, considering you kept everything inside until you exploded, but while you were dating it was quite pleasant, when you disagreed on something, one of you would always give in; but when you did fight, it was unbearable, James had always been cold during fights, always the type to leave before finishing the conversation, while you were the explosive and impulsive one, talking way too much without thinking, yelling more than you probably should, and then you wouldn't speak to each other for days because of it.

From past experience, you imagined he would disappear for a while, so you sighed and switched off the lights, heading to your room, more than ever you just wanted to sleep, sleep for a few good hours and put your mind at rest, but you knew yourself too well to know that after what happened, you would definitely end up dreaming about James, but you hoped it would be something good, something that would relax you at least during your sleep.

Just before falling asleep, you remembered to reply the e-mail your mother had sent you during the day, saying how much your dad and her were loving their visit to France and were thinking about staying to help your aunt with her restaurant. Your heart ached when you realized it wasn't a joke, your mom saying at the very end that she knew you had your own exciting life but that they would love to have you with them there.

A chance to run away.

tag: @xcinnamonmalfoyx @dreamsygirl

#lari writes sometimes #marauders x reader #james potter x reader #james potter x y/n #james potter x you #james x reader #james x you #james x y/n #james potter imagine #james potter scenario

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lumiolivier · 1 year ago

Text

In Another Life

Series: One Piece

Word Count: 5153

Rating: T

Pairing(s): ZoSan

A party at Mihawk's (or his desperate attempt to socialize his protege) takes a strange turn when Zoro hears a piano upstairs.

(I've also never written One Piece fic before. Please be gentle.)

Zoro never saw any point in the large, lavish parties. Nobility or not, Zoro didn’t understand Mihawk’s appreciation to peacock himself. And for what? To show off? To make connections that he’ll ultimately break? Of course not. Mihawk had a difference reason for this particular party. Mihawk was to hold…a flesh auction of sorts. Not for money or anything like that. To see his young protégé finally not mope around their villa another summer.

“Do we have to do this, Mihawk?” Zoro whined as he went through yet another suit fitting, “Can’t I just sit this out?”

“No,” Mihawk stood his ground, watching the tailor’s hands work quickly, “You’re going. Like it or not.”

“I’m leaning toward the not part.”

“Zoro,” Mihawk groaned, “How long has it been since you even knew what a woman looked like?”

“I’ve seen women before,” Zoro rolled his eyes, beyond irritated with him, “It’s not like I’m a stranger to people.”

“Then, why do you always act like it?” Mihawk asked, “Zoro’s too good to be around other people. Zoro’s always going to be off by himself. Zoro would rather be alone playing with his sword than having someone else play with it for him.”

“Can we not be disgusting?”

“Can you simply humor me for the night?” Mihawk ordered, “It’s not like I’m asking you for a vital organ, Zoro. I’m asking you to actually socialize. Locking yourself away isn’t good for you.”

“Do I not see you every day?” Zoro pointed out, jerking at the pin prick in his hip, “Ow! What the hell?”

“I’m so sorry,” the tailor winced.

“Don’t make it a habit,” Zoro let it go.

“I’m serious, Zoro,” Mihawk insisted, “You need to be more socialized. You’d be amazed at what a little elbow rubbing will get you. Consider this another lesson.”

“You teach me in the ways of the blade,” Zoro reminded him, “I didn’t sign up for this.”

“Then, consider it a bonus,” Mihawk did his best to hold his composure, but the thought of running Zoro through with his own blade gave him much temptation. But then, it dawned on him. What had Zoro so antisocial. But he needed to guide the conversation in the right direction, “Why do you refuse to make any connections?”

“I don’t need them,” Zoro blew him off, idly staring into the mirror in any other direction but his own eyes.

And that’s when all of Mihawk’s theories made sense, “Is this about Kuina?”

Zoro’s jaw tensed up at the mere mention of her name. The last time he ever truly got close to someone. His grief tightened up in his stomach. And he shot a piercing glare at Mihawk, “You had no right. You had no business bringing her into it.”

“So, it is a Kuina problem,” Mihawk shooed away the tailor and sat at the edge of Zoro’s bed.

And without hesitation, Zoro drew his blade from its sheathe. Even when being poked and prodded at by the tailor, he wouldn’t be caught without it on him. He held the tip of his blade in Mihawk’s face, “I said, you have no business speaking her name. Drop it.”

“And what have I always told you?” Mihawk lowered Zoro’s blade, “Don’t draw your blade unless you intend to draw blood. Calm yourself.”

Zoro wanted his blade to taste blood. To let the iron fortify the blade even more. But he conceded and returned his sword to its sheathe, “I stand by what I said.”

“As do I,” Mihawk assured him, “You will be there. And for a change, you will be socialized. Do we understand each other?”

“Please, Mihawk,” Zoro begged, “Don’t make me do this.”

“I’m not making you do anything,” Mihawk got up from the bed and started walking out, “I’m merely saying you’re going to be there.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“I’m not putting bamboo splinters under your fingernails, Zoro,” Mihawk started walking out, “You’ll live. It’s just one night.”

The moment the door closed, Zoro threw himself into his bed, hoping to get in a quick nap. Yeah. It’s just one night. Easy for you to say. You’re used to this garbage. Hopefully, I’ll be able to get in a drink or two. Or three. The prospects of the evening started to sound a little better. Mihawk usually does bring out the top shelf booze for this. Maybe it won’t be so bad. As long as he’s not lining them up for me, we should be fine. Zoro stared up into the gilded ceiling. Maybe tonight won’t be so bad. And slowly, Zoro started to drift off.

But then, night fell over the palace. And the staff were abuzz with party preparations, decorating, showering the palace in all the lavish furnishings and fabrics Mihawk insisted upon. And of course, Mihawk oversaw everything. From the colors, the textures in the drapery to the food left out for the guests to help themselves to, nothing would be put out without Mihawk’s seal of approval. Which brought him to his next task. Quite possibly the most important one he had. Making sure his flight risk protégé didn’t prove himself a flight risk. Alright, Zoro. Where have you run off to?

Mihawk checked the gardens, the stables, the library, the study. Zoro was nowhere to be found. But then, he realized who exactly he had been looking for. And the one place he failed to look. Mihawk trudged upstairs and knocked on Zoro’s bedroom door. And was met with silence. I know you’re not napping at a time like this, Zoro. At least you better not be. Mihawk didn’t bother with the invitation and walked into Zoro’s bedroom. Sure enough, still sleeping like a baby, Zoro continued to drool on himself, ever so slightly.

“Oh, Zoro,” Mihawk let out a heavy sigh of exasperation, “You’re lucky I don’t want you dead. Get up.”

“Mmm…” Zoro rolled over, ignoring Mihawk entirely.

“You know,” Mihawk sat at the edge of the bed, “I have you mostly pegged as a flight risk. But I should know better. And truly, that’s on me. Because why would you run from tonight’s party when you could simply sleep through it?”

“You’re letting me sleep through it?” Zoro mumbled into his pillow, “Thanks, Mihawk. I knew you’d understand.”

“Zoro…” Mihawk growled, “If you’re not awake, alert, and fully dressed in the next hour, I am taking all of your swords and running them through different parts of your body. Do you understand?”

“Alright!” Zoro snapped, reluctantly rolling off his bed, “I’m up. There. Happy now?”

“Quite,” Mihawk praised, “Thank you. Go on. Your suit should be finished and in the closet.”

“Wonderful,” Zoro dragged himself toward his bathroom. But he made a quick stop at his closet, noticing the garment bag hanging in it.

“You could’ve chosen any color under the rainbow,” Mihawk pointed out, “And yet, you decide to go with black.”

“It’s simple,” Zoro took the hanger and brought it with him, “Is that a problem?”

“Not what I would’ve chosen for you personally,” Mihawk shrugged, “If I had my say, it would’ve been a deep red. It’d suit you.”

“Black is good, too,” Zoro brushed him off and shut the door behind him.

Mihawk rested his head on his knees, beyond done with Zoro’s reluctance. It still seemed like yesterday this sad boy begged at his knee to teach him the ways of the blade. Better than what anyone had ever taught him before. And how irritating he was then. But the fire in those sad eyes got to him. And Mihawk couldn’t tell him no. His raw talent was too good to just throw away. It needed to be nurtured and cultivated into something great. However, it was a shame Mihawk couldn’t do the same for Zoro’s personality. At least, that was how Mihawk saw it.

“Zoro,” Mihawk leaned against Zoro’s bathroom door, grateful to hear the bathtub running, “If you need anything, come find me.”

“What about the house staff?” Zoro asked, already slipping into his bath water.

“They’re busy,” Mihawk insisted, “You find me directly. Alright?”

“Fine,” Zoro shut his eyes again, doing his best not to fall back asleep. But he knew sleep would elude him. He had bigger things on his mind. Why would Mihawk be so hellbent on me finding someone at this party? Is he really getting that sick of me? I thought we were good. It’s not like he’s asking me for a kidney. I guess I’ll suck it up for the night. It’s just one night, right? Unless I have to sit and deal with whoever ends up finding me tonight for the rest of my life. Ugh…Just what I need. I can’t just have a good night with some decent booze, can I?

As time passed, Mihawk took one last look at himself in the mirror, appreciating what he saw. Because there’d be no way that at the very least Mihawk would go with a cold bed tonight. However, this party wasn’t for him. And as he walked down the hall, he kept his fingers crossed. Please, Zoro. Don’t tell me you went back to sleep. Tell me you didn’t continue your nap in the bathtub. Tell me you’re fully dressed and ready for this party. Because I don’t think my heart can handle you still being in shambles.

“Zoro?” Mihawk didn’t even bother knocking. He just walked right into Zoro’s bedroom.

Where Zoro had come out of the bathroom, doing his best to figure out how cufflinks worked, “You call for me?”

“Thank God,” Mihawk let out a sigh of relief, getting an eyeful of his prodigy. Although, he couldn’t help himself, “What are you doing?”

“I’m trying to put these damn things on,” Zoro continued his struggle, “How does anyone put these on?”

“One cufflink at a time,” Mihawk took them away and pulled on Zoro’s sleeve, “Honestly, Zoro. Have I not taught you better?”

“In a perfect world,” Zoro grumbled, “This shirt would’ve had buttons on it like I asked.”

“But,” Mihawk stood his ground, “I told them purposefully to leave the buttons off because of the cufflinks I got for you.”

“You didn’t get those for me,” Zoro pointed out, “You won them in a poker game. That I watched you cheat at.”

“You get my point,” Mihawk hushed him, “Is this the kind of attitude I can expect tonight? Because I’m not canceling. There are already guests arriving. And you’re not going to embarrass me.”

“Do forgive me,” Zoro rolled his eyes, still wanting no part of this. Unless it had a proof on it.

“Zoro,” Mihawk begged, “Please. At least try to have a good time tonight.”

“Fine,” Zoro caved, already with his eye on a good sake.

“Thank you,” Mihawk finished off his cufflinks, “Now, go downstairs. Go meet a nice girl. Call it a night. Will that be so difficult for you?”

“Probably not,” Zoro walked out of the safety of his bedroom with a sword on one hip and two swords on the other. Because he wasn’t going to leave without a little piece of Kuina on him.

Once he made it to the ballroom, Zoro established a nest. Granted, he knew he wasn’t going to be at one of the tables in the back. Oh, no. That meant going unseen. The head table was where he’d be. That didn’t mean he couldn’t still make his nest. He had a bottle of sake for the table and his favorite bottle opener. Carefully, he ran his blade along the cork and started drinking. Although, the sudden pop caught some attention. Zoro knocked the bottom of the bottle on the table, tipped it toward the ceiling and got his first drink down. Just a little something to take the edge off. And he could tell right then and there.

This party would be his hell.

The last thing he wanted to do was sit and listen to Mihawk talk shop with the other nobility. He didn’t care how their businesses were doing. He didn’t care about their personal lives. None of that interested him. If the goal was for Mihawk to find a lovely young lady to keep Zoro warm for the evening, the bottle of sake was a much better place to look. No one was even worth Zoro giving them a chance. He just wanted to spend a little time alone. However, at the height of the party, Mihawk wasn’t going to let him leave so easily.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Mihawk grabbed Zoro’s wrist.

“Bathroom,” Zoro brushed him off, “If that’s alright with you.”

“Fine,” Mihawk stopped him, “It’s funny, Zoro. I haven’t seen you with anyone all night.�� In fact, you’ve hardly strayed from my side.”

“Maybe you should’ve invited better guests,” Zoro played it off like he didn’t care, but he was bored out of his skull and he wanted nothing more than to…use the bathroom. Yes. The bathroom. Just as he told Mihawk.

“Or better yet,” Mihawk growled, “Someone else should be a little more personable. I asked you one thing, Zoro. And I need you to come through on that.”

“So,” Zoro groaned, “Do I get to go to the bathroom or not?”

“Go,” Mihawk let him go, “Maybe you’ll sober up some.”

“Yeah,” Zoro walked away. Wouldn’t that be a damn shame? He couldn’t stand it anymore. He wanted nothing more than to escape that party the second he stepped foot in it. The ballroom was abuzz with activity, with people dancing, with people talking. It was maddening. And Zoro wanted nothing more than some peace. And if he had to retreat to the bathroom to get that peace, then so be it.

However, on his way, the faint sound of a piano caught his attention. The band played in the ballroom, but none of them had a piano. It was oddly soothing. The only room with a piano in it was the drawing room and it was a rarity anyone was ever in there. Regardless, Zoro followed the sound. Because anything was better than the overcrowded party in the ballroom and going back to Mihawk. And someone had to have been playing it. Zoro would finally socialize the way Mihawk wanted him to. And then, Mihawk wouldn’t have a reason to throw a tantrum.

The closer Zoro got to the piano, the faster it played. He just wanted Mihawk off his back. But he kept a tight grip on his sword hilts. Faster and faster, the piano played on. Zoro couldn’t even recognize the song. But once he got to the piano, no one was there. Zoro scratched his head. Where the hell was that coming from? I know I heard a piano up here. It’s right there. So, who was playing it? Regardless, Zoro knew there was someone up there. There was someone who wandered away from the party. And no doubt with Mihawk’s treasures in mind. So, he drew his blade.

“Show yourself,” he called out to the empty room. And yet, silence. Zoro looked all around the piano. Still nothing, “I said, show yourself!”

And yet, the still silence remained. Zoro sat on the bench, still not sure where the music came from. He put his fingers to the keys. Where was it coming from? Am I finally losing it? There was a piano playing in here, right? Clearly, there’s a piano. But who was playing it? Zoro let it go and rested his head on the keys, letting out a messy chord. Whoever it was, at least I get some peace and quiet for a change. I told you already, Mihawk. This party was pointless. I need the rest more than I need to socialize. But just as Zoro sat back up, a sudden chill ran through his head.

“Soft…” a voice echoed through the mostly empty room.

“Who are you?” Zoro stood up and drew his blade, “Show yourself!”

“Soft…” the voice spoke again, “Like moss…”

“I said, show yourself!” Zoro spun his blade, waiting for someone to show up, “I won’t ask again.”

“I heard you the first time,” the voice moaned, “I can’t help it. I’m shy.”

“Then, tell me who you are,” Zoro looked around for where the voice was coming from and yet…There was no one there.

“I guess it’d be rude of me not to talk to you face to face,” the voice finally took form on the piano. A man, “You’re easily worked up, mosshead. Did you know that?”

Zoro had seen a lot in his time. But never did he see someone apparate out of thin air, “Where the fuck did you come from?!”

“Thank you for proving my point,” he laughed, “Like I said, you’re easily worked up. And if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you just saw a ghost.”

“I…” Zoro blinked a couple times, still coming to grips with what he just saw, “I…Are you a ghost?”

“Unfortunately,” his incorporeal legs dangled over the edge of the piano, “I am sorry if I startled you. But your piano was too pretty to pass up. Do you live here?”

“Last time I checked,” Zoro backed away, “I’m almost positive there’s a priest downstairs. You need to go.”

“No…” the ghost begged, “Please. I don’t want to go yet. I heard the party downstairs and…It’s been a long time since I’ve been to a good party.”

“Who are you?” Zoro asked, “There’s no way you’re just some random ghost that busted into Mihawk’s house like this.”

“Mihawk…Mihawk…” the ghost thought it over, “No. Sorry. Not ringing any bells. But you think I could see?”

“See what?” Zoro scoffed, “Mihawk’s sham of a party?”

“Sham?” he wondered, “What makes it a sham, mosshead?”

“Would you quit calling me that?” Zoro rolled his eyes.

“And I’ll tell you mine if you’ll tell me yours,” the ghost laid on his stomach, his elbows up on the back of the piano, “Deal?”

“Why should I tell you my name?” Zoro argued, “I’m not the one who lured me up here.”

“Did you like it?” the ghost asked, “It got a little heavy toward its end, but someone was coming and I figured I’d get out as much as I could.”

“Not really my thing,” Zoro brushed him off, “It’s Zoro, by the way. Roranoa Zoro.”

“Sounds like a mouthful,” the ghost rolled over to his back, “Tell you what. If you bring me down to that party you say is downstairs, I’ll tell you my name.”

“That wasn’t our deal,” Zoro pointed out, “You said you’d tell me yours if I told you mine.”

“So, I’m renegotiating a little,” he shrugged, “Come on, Zoro. Please? I’ve been up here for a thousand years and I’d love to see a good party.”

“Have you really?” Zoro asked, “You’ve been a ghost for that long?”

“Not really,” he giggled under his breath, “I’ve only been like this for the last couple years.”

“And,” Zoro started to relax a bit more, sitting back down at the piano, “What happened? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I got stuck on a rock in the middle of the ocean,” he told him, “And I didn’t have anyone to come rescue me. It was a long few months being out there, but now, I’m free. I can come and go through here all I want. And no one’s going to tell me no.”

“What if I told you no?” Zoro argued.

“But you won’t. Do you know how I know that?”

‘How?”

“Because,” the ghost smiled, “You haven’t looked away from me for the last ten minutes. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you thought I was cute.”

“Please,” Zoro shook him off, “Why would I think that?”

“Because I am cute,” the ghost retaliated, “I mean��Come on, Zoro. Look at me.”

“Yeah,” Zoro scoffed, “I’m sure you had all the ladies swoon over you in your living life.”

“You’d be amazed,” he got up from the piano, “Would you feel more comfortable if I was more tangible?”

“What do you mean?” Zoro looked at the ghost strangely, “You can do that?”

“Of course, I can,” the ghost’s translucency went away as he sat on the bench next to Zoro and held his hand, “See? I’m just as solid as you are. Truly, mosshead, I’m starting to think I’m the first ghost you ever met.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong,” Zoro got up from the bench and checked the liquor cabinet. And came up short, “Damn…”

“What?”

“I was looking for a drink,” Zoro told him, “But it looks like I have to go downstairs for that.”

“And I could come with you,” the ghost insisted, doing a little spin, showing off his dark, pinstriped suit, “It’s not like I’m not dressed for the occasion. Please? I just want one party.”

Zoro wanted to go back to the party like he wanted to be shot in his foot. But his curiosity got the better of him. All he wanted was to know who haunted the halls of Mihawk’s mansion. And if that meant him going back to the party, then so be it. But that would come with some stipulations, “If we go down there, are other people going to be able to see you?”

“Just as much as you can see me now,” he nodded, “They’ll also be able to feel me, too. I’ll be just as tangible as anyone else in the room. They’ll have no idea I’m a ghost.”

“And,” Zoro went on, “What will you being at this party entail?”

“I just want to go to this party,” the ghost fell back over the piano, “Is that so much to ask?”

“It’s one of Mihawk’s parties,” Zoro grumbled under his breath, “So, yes. It is. Fine. I’ll take you downstairs.”

“Wonderful!” he hopped down from the piano, “Let’s go!”

Zoro knew he’d live to regret this night, but if it meant him having Mihawk out of his hair, he’d be alright with it. And so, the two went back downstairs to the ballroom where the hustle and bustle seemed to only get bigger. Zoro rolled his eyes at the spectacle. Great. Just wonderful. And yet, he looked over at the ghost, who couldn’t have been more thrilled to see such a beautiful ballroom. The food, the string quartet, the people, the dancing. It all completely swooned him.

“Zoro…” the ghost took his hand, “Thank you. I don’t think you realize it, but this is the best gift you could’ve given me.”

And in that moment, there was a strange tug in Zoro’s chest. One that he didn’t know was possible. But it managed to force a smile onto his face, “You’re welcome. I’m glad I could do this for you.”

“And I know it’s making you uncomfortable,” the ghost took his arm, “But really. It’s not going unappreciated.”

“Don’t mention it,” Zoro shook him off, “I’m going to go get a drink. Can you do that?”

“I can,” the ghost nodded, “If it’s not too much trouble, cabernet.”

“What the hell is cabernet?”

“Oh, dear, sweet Zoro,” the ghost teased him, “It’s the one in the pretty black bottle. Probably with a red label. Says cabernet on it. Maybe even Cabernet Sauvignon. You can read, can’t you?”

“Of course, I can read!” Zoro snapped, “And now that I’m thinking about it, I brought you to your party. You still haven’t told me your name.”

“My memory’s a little fuzzy,” the ghost sighed out, “Maybe a little red will bring it to light.”

Great. This one thinks he’s funny. I’m keeping you away from the actual clown here. Regardless of Zoro’s opinions, he was still a man on a mission. And there was a beautiful bottle of sake sitting unattended on the top shelf. And next to it were all of Mihawk’s wines. Zoro skimmed through the labels, hoping to find one that said cabernet on it. Fortunately, a bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon sat on the shelf. He let out a little sigh of relief as he poured a glass for his new…friend. Or the ghost that seemed to attach himself to Zoro. And he knew the rest of the night would be miserable, so Zoro just grabbed the sake bottle.

“Here,” Zoro sat at his spot at the table and put the wine in front of him, “I got your stupid wine.”

“Mm…” the ghost picked up his glass and meticulously studied his wine.

“What?” Zoro scoffed, “Afraid I poisoned it? You’re already a ghost. Why would I do that?”

“Because you’re a sadist?” the ghost assumed.

“I’m not a sadist,” Zoro took a heavy drink straight from the bottle.

“Fine, fine,” the ghost backed off, “But…I suppose I couldn’t trouble you for a dance, could I?”

“You said you wanted your party,” Zoro pointed out, “You didn’t say anything about me having to participate.”

“Please, Mossy?” the ghost begged, “If you dance with me, I’ll tell you my name.”

“Uh-huh,” Zoro rolled his eyes, “You also said you’d tell me your name if I brought you to this party. And you’d tell me your name if I got you your wine. Why should I believe you’ll tell me your name if I give you a dance?”

“Because,” the ghost rested his head on Zoro’s shoulder, “I asked nicely for that dance. And I swear on my past life and my current one that I will tell you my name. But you have to dance with me.”

Zoro hated his own curiosity. But he wasn’t going to break. Instead, he just got up from the table, “I’m going to go get some air.”

“Wait, Zoro,” the ghost called after him, “Don’t go.”

“Don’t follow me,” Zoro took the bottle with him, “I don’t need this party. I don’t need the socializing like Mihawk said. And I sure as hell don’t need to be jerked around by some fucking ghost.”

“Zoro…”

But Zoro was already gone. Lost in the crowd. He really did just need to get some air. Something about the gardens were quite peaceful. Zoro found himself under the gazebo and sat on the cold ground. It’s just some damn ghost. Why am I letting him get to me so much? Zoro knew the reason. Zoro knew exactly what it was. And he hated himself for thinking it. Because it meant proving Mihawk right. It’s because it’s not her. I would’ve thought if I had a ghost attached to me, it’d be Kuina. Why? Why does it have to be him? I don’t even know what his name is. Why is he getting to me this bad?

“Zoro…” a familiar voice floated through the air.

“I thought I told you not to follow me,” Zoro grumbled.

“I know,” the ghost sat with him, “Why’d you run off?”

“I had a lot on my mind,” Zoro kept cryptic, “I needed somewhere to make it all stop for a while.��

“If it was because of me,” the ghost took his hands, “I’m sorry. I really don’t mean to jerk you around like that. It’s just been a while since I had anyone do anything for me. I liked it a little too much.”

“Oh,” Zoro let it go. But there was a sense of peace in his thoughts again. And the music drifted outside. Zoro got back on his feet and offered the ghost his hand.

“What’s this for?”

“What else?” Zoro shrugged, “You did say you’d give me your name if I gave you a dance.”

“Oh?” the ghost managed to muster up a smile, “Alright. But ask me properly.”

“What?” Zoro looked at him strangely, “What do you mean, ask you properly? Do you want to dance or not?”

“Wow,” the ghost giggled a bit, “What a gentleman. Hard to believe you haven’t been married off ten times over by now.”

“The sarcasm is not appreciated,” Zoro took the ghost’s hand and pulled him a little closer.

“Alright,” the ghost teased him, “I see someone’s not feeling shy anymore.”

“You’re pushing it.”

“Sorry, sorry,” the ghost reveled in the feeling of someone else’s touch. And in Zoro’s movements, “Hey…Mossy…Can I ask you something?”

“What?” Zoro started to relax a little more, the sake finally hitting his bloodstream.

“Do you think…” the ghost nestled his head in Zoro’s shoulder, “Maybe we met in a past life?”

“I don’t know,” Zoro spun him around, “Maybe. How do you think we met?”

“I don’t know,” the ghost thought it over, “Maybe we met on a boat. A big boat. With a restaurant on it.”

“Maybe we hated each other.”

“But maybe…We didn’t.”

“What?” Zoro wondered, “You think we were friends?”

“I think we were more than that,” the ghost admitted, “But you have your thoughts of our past life together and I’ll have mine. We’ll close our eyes and pretend like both are real.”

“Who knows if our past lives together are real or not?” Zoro brushed it off, “But…We got tonight, don’t we?”

“Zoro…” the ghost awed, “That’s the sweetest thing you could’ve said to me.”

“Don’t read too much into it.” But Zoro couldn’t take his eyes off the ghost’s. So deep, so beautiful…And his face so soft and gentle…And the ghost’s slender hips against his own…And he found his peace.

In the silence, the ghost couldn’t help himself. He knew there was no way Zoro would make a move. So, the ghost moved into Zoro’s face, barely an inch away. And to his surprise, Zoro pulled the ghost in for a deep, sweet, and tender kiss. One that put everything into alignment. And everything would be ok. When he pulled away, Zoro still couldn’t believe it happened. On his list of things that could’ve happened that night, kissing a ghost in the garden was not on it.

“Zoro…” the ghost’s voice broke, “You…”

“Again,” Zoro blushed, “Don’t read too far into it.”

“Fine,” the ghost couldn’t stop smiling, “Do you really want to know what my name is that badly?”

“After that…” Zoro admitted, “I don’t even care anymore, Ghost. Tell me. Don’t tell me. But…I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to do that again.”

“Well,” the ghost rocked back on his heels, “What if I wanted to?”

“Then,” Zoro thought, “I guess I’d have to prove you wrong.”

“What do you mean?”

Zoro pulled the ghost back in, his kiss getting deeper, his tongue finding its way into the ghost’s mouth, “I can be a gentleman if I want to be one.”

“Is that so?” the ghost melted inside, “Why couldn’t I have met you in my living life?”

“Because,” Zoro pointed out, “Then, I would’ve had to mourn you twice.”

“Zoro…” the ghost gave him one last little kiss, “My name is Sanji.”

#fan fiction #one piece #one piece fan fiction #zosan #one piece zosan #op zosan #zoro x sanji #zosan fanfic

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annestie · 10 months ago

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What Do You Mean Betrothed to Him? - Chapter 1

Summary: For as long as Neteyam could remember, he had been betrothed to the eldest son of the Metkayina Olo’eyktan. A boy about his age. The agreement had come through their fathers, many years before either boy could remember.

So when, Jake announced that they would be hiding in Awa’atlu, Neteyam isn't that surprised. Though, what he does find strange was the confusion of his siblings. They ask why Awa’atlu, why not another clan or island or village. To Neteyam, Awa’atlu seems like the obvious choice, especially with their connection there and Neteyam has talked to them about who his betrothed is.

Neteyam wouldn’t have forgotten to mention that part. Right?

Pairing: Ao'nung x Neteyam

Word Count So Far: 3349

Notes: I haven't really mentioned it but my Ao3 is now locked to users only due to AI scalping but I will be posting this fic here for everyone to read. This was a fun write.

Also thank you @crystalskies42 for helping. I know we're still iffy on the "does it count as being a beta reader?" but you helped so you get credit. She have some AMAZINGLY angsty fics that will destroy you. 10/10 would recommend :D

Growing up betrothed is a strange ordeal. You know that one day you will wed; but, unlike those around, you know who. There’s no real question to it. Your fate already decided from the moment the agreement made. And sure while no betrothal is without Eywa’s blessing it’s still hard not having the choice.

Neteyam doesn’t even remember a time where his betrothal hadn’t loomed over his life. A constant thought in his mind that his future had already been decided for him. He used to be jealous—a terrible, fiery emotion—of those around him that could choose. That they had a choice and he did not, simply because of who he was born to.

However, along that path of jealousy, it changes. At some point, a point that Neteyam no longer quite remembers, his feelings of jealousy transform into something else. Something that definitely couldn’t be called jealously.

Maybe it’s Ao’nung’s stupid charm or Eywa, herself, intervening, but at some point Neteyam falls and he falls hard. If he had actually fallen, it would have been flat on his face from a tree.

Really, Ao’nung insist it was his charm that had done it. Neteyam is less so convinced by that; though, does let his betrothed continue believing whatever he wishes in the pure act of wanting to see the other happy.

Such a weird thing, love that is. Such a light emotion at the face; a simple care for someone yet it controls so much of life. Like the way Ao’nung sacrifices all his clams to Neteyam when he visits as he knows those are Neteyam’s favorite. Or how Neteyam takes Ao’nung on his ikran, as the latter doesn’t know how to ride a tsurak yet; though still loves that feeling of flight.

So after everything, when the decision is announced that they would be hiding within Awa’atlu, Neteyam’s happy even despite the circumstances. When you’ve lived the way he has you learn to find the best in the worst. In this case, getting to live with the betrothed he had accidentally fallen for.

Neteyam carefully packs the last of his things that he would be bringing. The most of what he’s packing are his jewelry and other accessories. He would be leaving most of his clothing as the weaving is simply too heavy for the water. They would weigh him down and drag, making it even harder to swim and keep up. Something he had learned firsthand.

Besides, he could always steal some of Ao’nung’s clothes while making new ones. Sure, Ao’nung might have some protests; however, it would certainly be rude for Ao’nung to deny his betrothed like that. So very rude.

As Neteyam packs the last few straggling things, he wonders if he even needs this much. Ao’nung had things. Things that Neteyam likes. Does Ao’nung really need all those brushes and clothes and whatnot just for himself?

They were getting married in a year or two, and the announcement would have been this year if it wasn’t for… Well you know. The formal announcement that is. The one where they would officially announce it to the clans. Currently the knowledge their betrothal is sort of limited, not that they try very hard—if at all— to keep it secret.

So soon, they’d probably have a marui built for them, seeing as Neteyam would be moving to Awa’atlu. They would be sharing much of their things as well. Which brings back the question, does Neteyam even need to pack this many things if they are soon to be wed?

“I guess you must be happy, I mean, you can finally choose for yourself,” Lo’ak comments as he walks into the pod and crouches down beside Neteyam.

Distracted, Neteyam looks up confused. Not having caught any word of it, too busy thinking of marriage. A few years ago, he would have thought himself gone insane if he heard that. “Sorry, wasn’t listening,” he quickly tells Lo’ak, looking away from his things.

“You must be happy with your betrothal and all,” Lo’ak says with a smile.

“Yeah. I am,” Neteyam replies back, blissfully unaware as his attention is on finishing the last of his packing and figuring out what to actually bring.

“You’ve been there before, haven’t you? With dad? What was it like?” Lo’ak asks. Out of everyone, he and Spider had been the most nervous of the move. Understandably, of course.

“Yeah, every year. It’s beautiful,” Neteyam says. That’s really the only way he could describe the waves that hit against the shore and the soft, warm sands that draw you in. The way the sun lights up the beach in the most stunning way. And how it all just mesmerizes as the eclipse is setting. “You can even finally-” Neteyam’s cuts himself off as Neytiri enters the pod.

“We leave soon, are you both done packing?” Neytiri asks as she picks up more of their things to bring out to the ikrans.

Neteyam nods gesturing to the few bags he has on the ground. Most of them were already at the ikrans.

Neytiri nods then turns her attention to Lo’ak. “And you?” she asks with a look that you certainly don’t want to challenge.

“Uh, almost,” Lo’ak lies with a nervous smile.

Neytiri huffs, tossing the bag she has in her hand over her shoulder. “Finish it now,” she commands him before leaving.

Neteyam laughs slightly to himself. “Come on, I’ll help you,” he tells Lo’ak as soon as Neytiri is out of earshot. The topic of Neteyam’s own betrothal lost to the chaos of packing.

It isn’t long before after that they’re in the air.

Neteyam has completed this exact flight so many times that he allows Paysyul, his ikran, to simply fly the way. She knows exactly how. She had always loved trips, especially ones to Awa’atlu. Though, Neteyam suspects that the love is out of the extra treats Ao’nung gives rather than anything else.

This trip is like any of the other ones they’ve flown. Well, besides the extra company. It’s a little different flying with five ikrans rather than two. Also the many more breaks they need to take because of the extra people and stuff.

Tuk and Spider don’t have ikrans, so their stuff got distributed to everyone else’s’. Which is fine; though, to not overwork the ikrans they do need more frequent break.

Tuk and Spider spend the trip bouncing around between the different ikrans. At each break, going with someone else. To keep it fair. However, Neteyam suspects it’s more likely to keep everyone from getting on each other’s nerves.

They arrive in Awa’atlu a little after midday, close to the eclipse. The time of day where darkness hasn’t started yet but still the rush and energy of earlier is gone. A time of winding down where the last tasks of the day are completed. The sun still shines in the sky; but it’s the start of the end of the day.

The familiar sounds of a conch alerts the village of their presence. Neteyam can’t help the smile that forms at the thought of seeing Ao’nung. Even if their actual reunion would probably have to wait until later. Perhaps that’s only for the better. Eclipse has always been Neteyam favorite time of day in Awa’atlu.

They need to get uturu first before anything else, which may only prove harder with Spider. Hopefully their betrothal and arrangement have softened the Olo’eyktan and, specifically, Tsahìk to the idea of good sky people.

They end up landing on a sand bank that Neteyam has never seen having any specific use in the years he’s visited. Almost immediately, a crowd forms around them.

They should be used to Omatikaya; though Neteyam supposes that it’s more to do with the amount of people and the fact they haven’t seen a sky person. There’s murmurs and mumbles about the crowd as Spider walks past which only confirm Neteyam’s suspicions.

Neteyam carefully places himself between crowd and Spider. He knows most of those know, or at least know of, him and he can only pray that the respect they hold for him translates to Spider. Although, perhaps that is second in need, the first being to get the permission to stay.

Just before the Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk can appear, Neteyam watches as a certain Metkayina pushes his way through the crowd. Their eyes lock almost immediately and Neteyam can’t help the way his face lights up at seeing the other.

It takes everything within Neteyam to not run to Ao’nung. All he wants is to sit with the other and relax in each other’s company as they tell of the year, they’ve been apart. Of the things they’ve done. Of the parts they’ve missed. And of the things they wish for.

Ao’nung grins as well, it brightens his face in the best way. It’s a smile that Neteyam has surely missed seeing. How he’s missed the other, Neteyam thinks as he looks Ao’nung over.

It’s been longer than when the trip would normally be. A few months. So little time looking back; but they seemed so lonely in the moment.

However, their moment is interrupted by the Olo’eyktan calling out to them—specifically Jake. “Jake Sully, what are you here for?” Tonowari asks, stepping towards the other. “Especially at a time like such.”

The two of them have a fairly good relationship from what Neteyam’s seen. Certainly better than the one Ronal and Neytiri hold, even with their children’s betrothal there’s just something about the two that doesn’t mesh quite right.

“I wish we were here on better circumstances,” Jake says. He goes on going into as little detail as possible to explaining it. Telling Tonowari only what they need. Uturu. Sanctuary.

Slowly, Neteyam’s eyes drift back Ao’nung. Something that’s become a bit of a habit from a few trips ago. The rest seems to tune out as Neteyam watches Ao’nung secretly sign, “I missed you.” Neteyam’s smile widens.

Neteyam’s thoughts grace the idea of signing something back; though, he’s quickly pulled back to the actual problem at hand. They could talk later, he reminds himself. Once, Neteyam and his family weren’t possibly getting kicked out of the clan.

The Tsahìk walks out from the crowd, her eyes immediately set the family. “This was not the agreement,” Ronal says, circling the family. “And you even bring the thing you are running from.”

“No,” Neteyam protests, hopeful that his standing and somewhat good relationship with the Tsahìk will ensure he isn’t kicked out. “He—Spider—is one of us. He is na’vi.”

Ronal looks unconvinced as she stares more intently at Spider. “He is like them.”

“In body but not spirit. He was born here and has lived just as we have.” Neteyam protectively puts himself between Ronal and Spider. “Please, he is just as na’vi as the rest of us.”

For a moment everything stills, Ronal looking Spider up and down in scrutiny. In that moment, all that Neteyam can think of what will happen. Would Neteyam stay and his family leave? Would they send Spider back with one of them as an escort? Would they all leave?

“I trust him as yours then,” Ronal finally says before stepping away. Which isn’t the best, though not the worst either.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Neteyam smiles. “Thank you,” he says. All he had to do now is pray that Spider be on his best behavior for anything he does will reflect fully on Neteyam. Though, he’s not even sure if Eywa can stop Spider and Lo’ak. Great Mother have mercy.

Once Ronal makes her way to Tonowari, the two share a look of contemplation. An unspoken conversation as they both make their final decisions. Neteyam has seen the two do it before; with many of their decisions they had done the same.

Until, Tonowari sighs and looks back to them. “With all that you have done, your presence is always welcome. However, in order to stay, you must learn the way of water,” Tonowari announces, gesturing around them. “You must all learn the way of water,” he then says. more pointedly in Spider’s direction.

To Spider’s credit, he doesn’t back down at the Olo’eyktan. Rather he puffs his chest out and nods, holding himself with as much confidence as he can muster.

“My son and daughter will help teach your children,” Tonowari says as he waves Ao’nung and Tsireya over. “For now, we will show you to your marui. You all must be tired from your journey.”

They’re led through the village by Tsireya to their new home—a marui as it’s called.

Neteyam had met Tsireya a few times, then again with her being the tsakarem and their trips only being a week or so he never spent much time with her. There was always something to be done, a dinner to attend, responsibilities to care for. It seemed almost as if their schedules were made for the two to avoid one another.

Another reason Neteyam prefers the eclipsed nights to the days. Not only was the island absolutely stunning but most of his day responsibilities were also done. Besides the dreadful dinners that is.

The marui they’re led to is much bigger than the one that Neteyam and Jake had usually stayed in. It does makes sense though. They barely even spent any time there during their visits, only using it to sleep really, perhaps eat or meal two but that was often a rarity.

Trailing behind the rest of his family, Neteyam watches as they all gladly enter the marui and begin throwing their things down. The day had been long and the trip tiring. He is not happily awaiting the tedious unpacking he knows will soon ensue. Their mother is not one to let the things go unpacked.

Sighing, Neteyam looks around again. Hoping that Ao’nung had stuck by. Quickly, he catches the other’s eyes and walks over.

Neteyam grabs Ao’nung’s hand and pulls him off to the side. Just out of the way of the Metkayina carrying things to the marui and, maybe coincidentally, out of the view of his family. “Meet me later?” Neteyam asks with a smile.

“By that cove?” Ao’nung says back with a grin. Neteyam could happily stare at his betrothed’s face the entire day.

“Of course. I’ll come by at the eclipse start.” Neteyam squeezes Ao’nung’s hand once more before leaving to help the unpacking.

It takes much strength to walk away after but Neteyam does so gracefully. The only reason being that he knows that they will much time later. Time that they usually did not have. Such a luxury.

“That’s mine!” is the first thing Neteyam hears as he enters their new home, followed by an irritated, “Nuh uh!” He could already feel the headache.

It’s just after the eclipse when Neteyam quietly slips out from their almost completely unpacked marui. He casts a quick goodbye to his family and smiles at the knowing looks his parents give. Then, ventures out going towards what—or rather who—he truly seeks.

The cove Neteyam’s headed to has been their ‘spot’ for years after discovering it together by accident. It’s beautiful to say the least.

It’s hidden. With you having to hike almost to the center of the island then swim all the way through a tunnel simply to get there. The trek is worth it though.

The cove itself is stunning. The ceiling of it is covered in many small gaps where light filters in and casts beautiful rays onto the pool of water below. The rays dance in the water, even in the dimly eclipsed light. During the day the light rays are charming; but once the sun is covered it’s breathtaking. Illuminating the closed space in the most mystifying way.

The hardest part is finding the opening of the tunnel with it being so small and covered with foliage. Though, with how many times Neteyam’s made the trek, it isn’t hard to let his legs lead him the way. The path through the forest is winding and confusing with many turns seeming wrong or backwards. But, no matter how wrong the path seems, it always leads there.

The tunnel has many air pockets along the way. Air pockets that Neteyam used to need frequently when they first found the cove. Neteyam truly thanks finding the spot for the reason his breath is so well trained.

It’s not long before Neteyam’s already reaching the end of the tunnel. Already praying for Ao’nung to be there. Immediately as Neteyam surfaces, he finds a certain na’vi awaiting him just as he had hoped.

“’Teyam,” Ao’nung says softly as he helps the other up onto the rocky shore of the cove. “It’s been too long,” he muses

Gladly taking the other’s hand, Neteyam grips it tight. Almost as if he fears that if he were to let go, it would disappear. “It’s only been a few months more than usual,” Neteyam says even knowing those few months had been filled with the most longing he’s ever experienced.

“Torture is what it was,” Ao’nung supplies, almost reading Neteyam’s mind.

Neteyam pulls himself the rest of way onto the shore. Then, quickly, the two wrap their arms around each other in an embrace. An embrace that seems so fulfilling yet too little. After so long, it’s welcome but not enough.

“Torture, huh?” Neteyam asks, leaning his head back slightly to look at the other.

“The worst.”

Neteyam leans in again, capturing the other’s lips with his own. A kiss that he had wished for from the moment their hiding had been announced. A kiss that Ao’nung had obviously longed for as well.

They aren’t quite that open to such displays of affection in public. Which is why it’s even more of a blessing that they had found this secret cove of sorts. A quiet, beautiful, hidden paradise to themselves.

They do eventually have to break apart though. Rather unfortunately, they both do need to breathe. A terrible thing really. However, it does give the chance for them to talk, another thing that Neteyam delights in. That they both delight in.

Many times their conversations have spanned hours into the night. Where their parents almost decide to send out search parties in their absence, only for the two to return just in time.

It’s happened so much though that they hardly ever worry anymore. Simply glad that the two betrotheds are so happy with one another.

There is much to catch up on. Much to tell and explain. So Neteyam soon finds himself sitting with his back against a rock as Ao’nung uses his legs a pillow. Simply talking of the missing time.

“Tell me of it,” Ao’nung says, looking up towards Neteyam. Grinning at the other, Ao’nung takes hold of Neteyam’s hand.

“Of what?” Neteyam questions with a small chuckle as he gently runs the fingers of his free hand through Ao’nung’s—now loose—hair.

“All of it,” Ao’nung says, squeezing Neteyam’s hand.

“There is too much to tell,” Neteyam says. “We would be here for hours, maybe days,” he jokes though he isn’t that opposed to the idea once speaking it aloud.

“Fine. Tell me of your brother then. The sky person.”

“He’s just that. A brother. He grew alongside us. Spent most of his days, and even nights, with us,” Neteyam explains with a smile. He’s told Ao’nung a little of his siblings before; though with the limited time they usually have, it doesn’t come up as much. “He is very stubborn; I think you two will get along fine.”

“Hey!” Ao’nung protests. “How dare you? You wound me. Your own betrothed,” he says dramatically.

Neteyam doesn’t feel any remorse though does bend and place a kiss atop Ao’nung’s forehead which seems to quiet him. “I’m so deeply sorry for that,” he says. “But I don’t hear you denying it.”

The two laugh. Their laughs echoing against the walls of the cove. How they’ve both missed this in the time they’ve been apart.

#Fluff #Fluff and Humor #Humor #arranged marriage #betrothed #neteyam x aonung #aonunete #aonung x neteyam #aonung #neteyam sully #neteyam #avatar way of water #avatar the way of water #atwow #What Do You Mean Betrothed by Annestie

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