#but this love she sees. this future. it's different and its terrifying and so she leaves him. And then she falls back to Moya and for a

[ravencromwell]

I have to add Archivist Wasp and its sequel Latchkey by Nicole Kornher-Stace. (Both those links lead to Weightless Books, an arm of the incomparable Small Beer Press that sells drm-free versions of numerous small presses' books for ease of reading and to avoid the amazon monster; to tout the awesome of Small Beer and Mythic Delirium, both primarily responsbiel for publishing Kornher-Stace would be a post of its own, but look them up if you're unfamiliar because they've provided some of the most envelope-pushing, queer-heavy scifi of the last decade.) Archivist Wasp is in the "destroyed earth" rather than the space category of scifi and...well, Amal El Mohtar can sell it better than I ever could:

An Archivist has two jobs. The first is to hunt and catch ghosts in order to learn about the precataclysm past from them; the second is to defend her life and position against “upstarts” — the other girls marked by the goddess Catchkeep’s claw-shaped scars at birth — once a year. Wasp has been Archivist for three years, and wants nothing more than to escape a dismal life of killing her sisters and obeying the Catchkeep-priest — so when an unusually powerful ghost asks her to help find his former partner in the underworld, she agrees. But, as is so often the case with the underworld, she finds both more and less than she bargained for. More than anything else, this book is sharp. You could cut yourself on the prose — Wasp’s world is one of thorns, knives, edges of thick, broken glass, a constant background-hum of pain that sometimes swells into a shout. Wasp’s perspective absolutely thrums with tension and violence, but also aches with a fierce, hollow loneliness to break the heart. The longing and gratitude for the smallest beginnings of true friendship make the betrayals more vicious, and the stakes just keep rising. I burned through this book in about three hours, desperately rooting for her. It’s also a brilliantly constructed narrative and world. The gods are cruel and absent. The underworld is a maze in layers, a twisting, turning palimpsest, one that allows Wasp to descend almost archaeologically through time by literally experiencing her ghost-partner’s memories. The pre- and post-apocalyptic worlds reflect each other in shards and fragments, all the more powerful for being subtle, for their resistance to being spelled out. It was also keenly refreshing — especially in something that’s ostensibly YA, where the Love Triangle of Doom is so annoyingly pervasive — to find a book in which all of the strongest, primary relationships are friendships; where friendship has the narrative, motive force usually reserved for sexualized romance. I very much wanted to see the A in QUILTBAG represented in this column, and this is a fine example: while the connection between the ghost and his (female) partner is intense and loving, it is never represented as sexual, and sex is in fact completely irrelevant.

Sci-fi books where a queer woman has the ghost of an annoying dead guy in her head

*Misery is nonbinary (she/they) and who’s in her head is not dead or a guy but I’m counting it, okay

[starmocha]

ok so I know we're all taken in by colonel caleb and his complexity and i'm enjoying all the smut (🙏🏻💕) but i'm looking at him and thinking about how he'd react if mc got pregnant 'cause in ny head he'd react like I think sylus would as in he'd shower her in kisses while crying but imagine him being scared of holding the baby because of his arm, terrified of hurting that tiny being but the second he holds them the fear goes away and he's planting kisses on the top of the baby's head 🥹😭

CRYING. SOBBING. YEARNING. Anon, if you've been around my blog long enough, I have mentioned numerous times how my 3-part Caleb breeding kink (and pregnancy) series will happen. With the recent revelation about his arm, I was reflecting on how to tackle this series with regards to Caleb's character. I hope his future memories will also deal with this more, so we can get a better understanding of the changes and his own mental state regarding it.

omg ok we all probably know by now I am weak to the Caleb thoughts, so...so...just a little snippet. Just a tiny short snippet...

Sweet Little You

She was safe. They were safe.

Caleb watched with relief as you slept peacefully, exhausted after the grueling 34 hours of labor. He had dedicated his whole life to keeping you safe, protect you from dangers and prevent you from ever feeling pain, but in those long, slow hours, he had felt so utterly helpless as he watched you braved through the tribulations of motherhood.

He knew you were strong, knew that you were more than capable, but it did not deter his innate desire to shelter you.

It had only been a few hours since the baby was born, he realized, as his large hand rested on your head, gently smoothing your hair. He could still see your tears, heard you crying as you poured all of your strength into delivering his baby. You had gripped his hand so tightly, and though that right hand of his could no longer feel anything, his heart still did, torn apart at every scream, every sob that passed your lips. He did his best to encourage you, reassured you that everything was going well, that soon you both would meet your little one.

He wasn’t sure if what he had said helped or not, but you had still held his hand, holding tight to him just like long ago when you two were little. Maybe you still needed him, still wanting to lean on him like you used to.

He bent down and placed a soft kiss on your temple. “Thank you, my darling.”

Caleb’s ears perked up, hearing the sudden quiet fussing of his newborn. He looked to the hospital bassinet placed close to your bed. The baby was starting to stir, waking up from a peaceful slumber.

He quickly moved closer, his paternal instinct kicking in. He bent down lower, his voice softer than normal. “Hey, hey there, little one,” he said, about to reach down for the baby, but he paused, worried.

The baby’s face scrunched up, its cries still soft, but steadily growing just a bit louder. Panic briefly passed Caleb’s features, suddenly unsure of his own ability as a father. He could hear you stirring behind him, but he didn’t want you to wake yet, knowing you still needed more rest. He pushed down his own feeling of anxiety, and he bent down again, gently scooping the baby up.

The baby was so small, he couldn’t help but think, being able to hold the baby within his two hands. He readjusted his hold, cradling the baby within his arms, and his heart felt like it was slowing in time, his breathing almost stilling entirely as it finally seemed to clicked in his mind that he was holding his baby. This little baby, conceived from the love between you and him, was now here, in his arms, and he could barely stifle the sob that almost wanted to escape, his heart suddenly overwhelmed with so many different emotions ranging from disbelief to amazement and finally profound, unconditional love.

The baby’s cries ceased, replaced by soft cooing, and Caleb let out a breathless laughter, his earlier anxiety slowly receding. He still wondered about his capability, but more than that, he wondered how it was possible to love someone you had just met. When his eyes drifted up, settling over your sleeping form, he almost laughed again, realizing he had never found the answer to that question, having always been a willing victim of “love at first sight.”

He shifted his gaze back down to the tiny baby in his arms, his lips resting over the infant’s forehead, the sweet scent of the newborn filling his nostrils, and a warmth unlike anything he had ever felt before filled his chest.

“Welcome to the world, my little one,” he whispered, “We’ve been waiting for you.”

[seresinhangmanjake]

Do You Love?

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x wife!reader

Summary: Feyd is soft for his wife and only wants to know if she loves him. His wife just wants him to come home.

Notes/Warnings: fluff and a little angst and very light smut (still 18+), softy-soft Feyd, probably could do with a wedding prequel if people were interested, im sure there are typos. I think that's it.

Words: 1400

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

He hates being away from you. Can't bear it. It takes less than two days for withdrawal from your lack of presence to settle in, and when it hits, it hits hard. The luminescence of your smile that threatens the darkness within him on his worst days; the delicate suppleness of your skin that introduced him to the softness and warmth of a human body; the specific quality and tone of your voice when you whisper and whimper and moan in his ear—he needs it. He needs you. He craves you until the second you’re in his arms again. He just wishes he could understand if you feel the same. He wishes he could know if you love him as much as he does you.

When you came into his life, you were a pawn for peace. A gift from one Great House to another. A reluctant bride who couldn’t choke back her tears on her wedding day. He’ll never forget the saltiness that lingered on his lips after the kiss that bound you to him forever. He can still feel the pang in his heart from seeing you finch when he guided the strap of your nightgown off your shoulder. 

It took ages for you to shed your fear; to allow him to hold you and kiss you and be inside of you, but those many months of ‘two steps forward, one step back’ have left him in a paralyzing state of identity crisis and uncertainty. You’ve turned him into a man who begs for scraps of reassurance that you care for him rather than a man who shows no mercy for love; a man so preoccupied with thoughts of his wife’s affection that not even his enemies are granted his full attention as he watches the light drain from their eyes. 

From the moment he leaves, he anticipates his return so you can quell his agitation, at least to some degree. The same words echo in his head each time he steps off a Harkonnen ship to search for you—hug me, hold me, kiss me, let my body inside of yours, tell me you love me—and in recent months you haven’t failed to do those things, with the exception of the last request. The day you tell him you love him will be the day he stops fearing you'll eventually grow bored with him. On that day, he’ll be happy, at peace. He’ll be unafraid of what his future with you will bring.

—

Reader POV

He often goes to Arrakis for a week or two, that’s not new. He must monitor things and fight Fremen when necessary. However, this time was different. There was something foreign in his eyes after he kissed your palm and boarded his ship to depart. Sadness? Pain? Worry? All three? You didn’t know, but it terrified you from how little he tried to disguise it. With each departure, it’s seemed his mood has worsened and you can't decipher its cause.

Now, ten days later, your fingernails are worn to nubs and dark circles have found home under your eyes from nightmares interrupting your sleep. They’re different every night but they always end with Feyd not coming home to you, and you don’t know how to cope. You tell yourself you’re crazy, that there’s no possibility of him being taken down with a Fremen knife or gobbled up by a sandworm or blown to bits from his ship getting shot out of the sky. He’s too smart, too quick, too trained for such things to claim his life. At the same time, however, the last person whose death you dreamt of was your mother’s, and while it’s rare your dreams are prophetic, that one came to fruition not five days later. Who is to say your dreams of your husband are not the same?

But you can’t lose Feyd, not when it feels like you just got him. When you married, your dread of navigating a new husband and life on Giedi Prime—both of which have a reputation for being cold and desolate and harsh—crippled your ability to see him for who he is. It’s only been the last few months that you’ve let yourself love and understand him, and you can’t imagine a reality in which you wake one morning knowing you will never have him again. You wouldn’t survive it. 

But you won't have to, because he's fine, perfectly safe—that's what you tell yourself. He told you he wouldn’t be away long and he wouldn’t say that unless he believed it, right?

Then again, believing he would be home soon doesn’t mean fate agrees. What if he's already gone? Wait, no. No, he wouldn't do that to you. He'll be home because he always makes it home. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave you. You nod to yourself, swallowing hard. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave. He’s fine. He’s safe. He would never leave.

--

Your body curls into the first touch of warmth you’ve had in a week and a half as a heavy weight rests in the dip of your waist and tugs you against a solid form. Plush lips ghost your temple. A heartbeat thrums in your ear and you feel the rise and fall of a chest. 

Oh, you like this dream. He’s so real in this dream. It’s the first dream where death is not at his heels.

“You don’t know how I miss you,” he mutters into your ear. Stands of your loose hair brush back from your face. “How unbearable it is.”

His voice is so clear, so beautiful and vivid that it’s almost like he’s really with you. Humming contently, you huddle further into him. “Then stop leaving me,” you mumble.

Breath catches in his chest, no longer moving at a steady rhythm. “You're awake?”

Your brows knit—that's not a very ‘dream-like’ question; it threatens your lovely illusion—and then your eyes snap open. 

“Feyd?” His nose is an inch from yours. Your hand raises to cup his cheek, just to see if he is real, and you gasp at how warm his skin is under your palm. “You're here,” you cry, quickly pushing him onto his back and crawling on top of him. 

You press your lips to his, hard. A whimper is pulled from your throat when he parts his mouth so you can get a taste of his tongue. Yes, he’s definitely real. 

Hands trail down your back to your ass, squeezing two handfuls of flesh and pushing your pelvis down onto his. He’s already hard and thick and pressing into you, the matching thin material of your nightgown and his sleep pants doing a pathetic job of maintaining any sort of barrier. 

Feyd slowly drags the ink-toned silk up the curves and dimples of your body until it pools at your waist. Fingers graze your skin as they move lower to slide through your slick bare folds, and at his touch, your brain goes absolutely fuzzy. You’re unashamedly desperate, refusing to take any longer to get what you need, but when you finally free him from his pants and he thrusts up into you, you both find yourselves stopping. The kiss breaks and you simply breathe in each other’s breaths as he stays nestled deep inside you. 

Your forehead falls to his. A fresh tear that you hadn’t noticed in your eye lands on his cheek. “You're ok,” you gently whimper, reassuring yourself of his safety. His nose nudges yours.

“When am I not?” he whispers as he catches the next tear with his thumb before it drops from your lower lashes. 

“In my nightmares.”

His brow pinches in curiosity, cock twitching within your walls. “You dream about me?” 

You lightly nod. “I thought this was a dream.”

“Why?”

“Because I had a sickening feeling you weren’t going to make it back this time. I know it was a routine trip, but I just couldn’t shake it,” you say. “And that would’ve killed me, Feyd. I love you.”

Feyd sucks in a short stream of air as his hips slightly buck up against yours. “You love me?” he repeats.

“Yes,” you exhale, riding the little high of pleasure that came from the sharp involuntary shift of his hips. “I was so scared to be right.”

Feyd's arms tighten around you and he tilts his chin up to connect your lips. Kisses travel along the line of your jaw and down the length of your neck. His tongue dips into the hollow of your throat. 

“I love you,” he tells you.

Your stuffy chuckle settles into a grin. “I know you do.”

---

tag: @avidreader73

[merakiui]

タコの花嫁。

yandere!azul ashengrotto x (female) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, non-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, arranged marriage, oviposition, breeding, royalty au note - in an effort to bring peace to two warring sides, you are engaged to the sea queen’s son.

If anyone is to blame for the abysmal diplomacy between the Land and the Sea, it would be your ancestors. Pompous and foolhardy, they thought they could rule the grand seas stretching out from the harbor, beyond weather-worn docks with their rotted, seaweed-strewn planks and briny fetor. The ocean was vast, unexplored territory—a dangerous, deceptive beauty harboring life far beneath unruly waves.

And your ancestors intended to claim it.

Sailors would recount tales of fishfolk—uncanny creatures who looked more marine than the two-legged mammals of the land. They’d raise mugs, each overflowing with ale, in drunken merriment, terrifying themselves with the mysteries of the deep, dark sea.

“It ought to give ya a proper scare straight to Davy Jones himself!” they’d say, voices lowered conspiratorially. “Soon as yer candle goes out and all ya’ve got’s the moon to guide ya… You’ll hear ’em slip through the water if yer listenin’ well enough.”

“You ever go and spy one up close?”

“I’d sooner see the Devil himself and let him keelhaul me before facin’ those cursed beasts!”

“The cut of their jib ain’t so pretty. Enough to give men like us a fright and we’ve seen all sorts of somethin’.”

“Monsters, I say! Monsters!”

Festivals were held to keep these beasts at bay—to prevent them from gathering the courage to creep up onto the land. Every year, during the summer solstice, pits were hollowed on the shore and bordered with stones. Flames licked towards the sky, red-orange fingers clawing for purchase amidst the stars above. Townsfolk would sing and dance late into the eve, bellowing songs passed through the generations. Children would skip up and down the beach, torches in hand, and cry out an old chant: “Fish for you and me are meant to stay in the sea! Should you see one on land, may the Heavens strike it down with a gentle, loving hand!”

Their excitement did well to ward off the fishfolk. Sometimes the lone child would spot one in the distance, peeking out from between the rocks before diving back under in a splash.

On land, humans were safe. On land, the fishfolk couldn’t catch them.

It was different in the sea.

Ships were destroyed in terrible tempests. The waves tossed them around as if they were nothing. Many sailors would find their demise at the bottom of the ocean, torn to shreds with shattered skeletons. Viscerally brutalized, they died with secrets on their tongues—secrets of the strange fishfolk who’d drag them down, down, down to a watery grave.

On one cold February afternoon, the octopus prince was brought into the world. In shadowed fathoms, a grand celebration was held. After so much time—misfortune after misfortune—one fry survived out of the entire clutch. He was round and soft and small, colored blue from exertion and fighting through the tug of the current to reach home. The Sea Queen met him halfway and embraced him, ecstatic tears in her eyes, for a mother’s love is stronger than any political power.

“My little Azul,” she said, stroking a hand along his cheek, “how precious you are.”

No ships were sunk; no lives were lost. It was a peaceful day for both the Land and the Sea. And it would continue to be so in the future. Every year on that same February, it was made a day of peace to honor the little prince.

A day of life, not death.

It was on that same February eleven years later when you were tossed into the frigid depths like a hatchling cast out of its nest. Similarly, your birth had been a wondrous occasion. Your parents brought five boys into the world, each just as adored as the last, but they had been hoping for a daughter. It was a miracle when their fervent wishes were finally granted. You were spoiled as all daughters often are, pampered and doted on by your family and the palace staff.

Your brothers, though protective and caring, were a troublesome and rowdy bunch. Kyffin was the eldest. Two years younger was Emyr, and another two years behind him was Owin. A year younger than him were twins Morcan and Martyn. They picked on you as all immature boys often do when caught up in sibling rivalries, aiming to be the only one their parents see. To prove themselves as the best, the strongest, the wisest.

So it was with a half-cruel heart that Emyr tossed you into the waves from where he stood in the rowboat.

“Only way to learn is with exposure!” he called down to you, watching as you struggled against the push and pull of the sea. 

“C-Can’t!” you shouted back, choking on salt and flailing about. “E-Emyr, I can’t—can’t swim!”

“Don’t be silly,” Owin added with a sweet smile. “It’s how we learned. That old sod threw us right in. You’re lucky it’s us and not him. He was awfully mean with it, wasn’t he?”

“Terribly so.” Emyr watched your struggling a moment longer and clicked his tongue. He held the oar out just before you could slip under, and you clung to it with shaky hands. “Come on—let’s get you up here. You’re not gonna get it today.”

“Fin got it on his first try.”

“Fin gets everything on his first bloody try.”

Relieved, your heart pounding like a drum, you peered up at your brothers. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get it…”

“Nothing to apologize for. You’ll get it one day.”

“We’ll keep trying until then. And once you do, we’ll throw you a big party.”

“Really? Will you really do that?” Your expression brightened, but your brothers’ faces darkened. They saw the shadow before you did. Saw the webbed hands reaching out, the serrated teeth glinting in a sinister smile.

And then—

Owin leaned over, his arm outstretched. So fluid was his motion that it took you by surprise. “(Name), grab on! Hurry! Before—”

The rest of his warning was muffled by the water. You hardly had any time to brace yourself when you were yanked under, your nails raking across the wood of the oar as you went with the force of the pull. Salt stung your eyes when you cracked them open, peering frantically at blurry surroundings. Teal-green specks slid silently through the shadows, mismatched eyes flicking over your form. And then there was a high, raucous sort of chittering. Like a dolphin’s cry, loud and piercing. You squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your palms against your ears.

It only lasted a few mere seconds, but it felt like an eternity trapped in the coils of a creature you couldn’t comprehend. One moment you were holding your breath and the next arms were hooked around your torso, and you were pulled up and into the belly of the rowboat. Your hands flew to your throat, and you coughed up seawater while Owin patted you.

“It’s fine. It’s…okay,” Emyr muttered, his voice shot through with fear. It was the most shaken he’d ever sounded.

Blood fogged in the water, staining the tip of his harpoon. He gazed down at his hand. A deep, jagged gash ran angrily from palm to wrist. He hissed and closed his fingers in a tight fist.

“We gotta get back,” Owin was saying, still rubbing soothing circles into your back. “I’ll row. You rest.”

“Not good,” Emyr said instead, shaking his head in dismay as he watched your attackers retreat.

“We’re still in our waters, right? We didn’t go past the boundary, did we?”

“Let’s hope not.”

“We didn’t, right?”

“Let’s hope—” Emyr paused, collecting his words. “Let’s hope those monsters were in the wrong.”

“Father’s gonna kill us.”

“If not us, the monsters.”

Both brothers looked towards you. Your tunic was torn, stained through with saltwater and blood. You shivered all the way to shore.

Following that mishap, an official meeting was called between the Land and the Sea. The King—your father—met the Sea Queen at the border. He stood proud on his ship, peering down at her with fire in his old eyes.

“Your Majesty.”

The Sea Queen was just as formidable as those who came before her. Her tentacles unfurled as one, and if you looked at them long enough they almost seemed to take on the shape of an obsidian-colored crinoline.

“I believe my mother and your father made the terms quite clear all those years ago,” she said, a wave lifting her to meet the King at the deck of his ship. “So then, with that in mind, there should be no reason for us to meet under these circumstances.”

Emyr and Owin stood just behind their father. You peered through their legs at the Sea Queen, silently amazed. You’d never seen anyone quite like her before. At least, not a real person. You’d seen her in storybooks, depicted as a fearsome beast with devilish features, and though there was something intimidating about her gaze and build she appeared understanding enough. Her grey skin was sleek in the morning sun, her long, silvery strands tied up and pinned with an ornate hair ornament. She looked beautiful in a magical, enigmatic way.

“I couldn’t agree more,” came the clipped response of your father. “Alas, misfortune has brought us here.” He stepped aside to allow her to behold Emyr’s bandaged hand. “Harm has befallen my son and daughter. I suppose you might have an inkling as to why they find themselves in their current state?”

She frowned, but you couldn’t tell if it was out of sympathy or some other emotion. “Perhaps one of them can give reason to the wound now marring one of my subject’s sons.”

Your father glanced overboard at the snake-like merman cradled in the arms of another merman. They looked near-identical, their features unmistakable. He glanced back at Emyr, his gaze hard. “Go on then. Explain yourself.”

Emyr stepped forward. “With wholehearted respect, Your Majesty, it was out of self-defense. Your kind—they attacked us first.”

“You were in our waters!” one of the mers exclaimed, pointing a clawed finger towards Emyr. “It’s all your fault Jade got hurt!”

Owin hurried ahead, his hands gripping the taffrail. “He’s playing it up! It was a graze!”

“He could’ve died! You almost killed him!”

“That is enough,” the Sea Queen said, jutting an arm out to silence both sides. “I understand everyone is hurt here. Our feud lies in misunderstanding.” She gazed at you next. “Little one, we have yet to hear your story. Do share.”

You glanced at the guards, at Owin and Emyr, and then at father. He nodded encouragingly. “U-Um!” Shyly, you approached the Sea Queen. “My brothers were teaching me how to swim. I don’t know anything about whose water is whose. I just wanted to learn how to swim.” You met the fierce scowl of the mer holding his twin brother and quickly looked elsewhere. “He grabbed me before my brothers could pull me up.”

“Because you were trespassing. Anyone who tresspasses ought to—”

“Floyd.”

At the not-so-subtle warning in his father’s voice, he shut his mouth and snarled. His brother—Jade—was handed off to their father, who assessed his state with a frown.

“He will live, but it will take time for him to recover. My son is right. Your son could have killed him.”

“Just as your sons could have killed my sister!” Owin shouted, glaring.

Floyd stuck his tongue out, remorseless.

“It is impossible to know which side is in the wrong,” your father began, turning towards the Sea Queen. “Seeing as both have been injured, I am willing to apologize on behalf of my sons.”

“What?!” Owin’s head turned towards his father. “You’re bloody mad! Have you not seen—”

“Father,” Emyr interjected evenly. “We have nothing to apologize for. We were within our waters. We had no ill will towards the others. It was completely innocent.”

The Sea Queen hummed her contemplation. “The boundary was drawn for a reason, decided upon by those who came before us, and yet it does more harm than good. It is not for safety’s sake. It is to keep us divided—to ensure that neither side will ever know peace.”

“And you’re implying that we get rid of it?”

She nodded, quite serious. Everyone looked on in equal parts shock and disbelief. “Why do we continue to fight? It does nothing but open old wounds, rendering them incurable. Innocent lives are lost in petty squabbling. And for what?”

To that, no one could offer a smart reply.

“Therefore I propose peace. A union to welcome a new era—one in which we embrace one another as allies without animosity.”

“A union?” Your father raised a brow, suspicious but willing to listen. “I suppose it would be beneficial. My people would be free to travel the seas at their leisure.” “And mine would no longer have to live in fear of being thoughtlessly slaughtered and taken as trophies.”

“Unbelievable,” Orwin muttered.

Emyr elbowed him. “Knock it off.”

“We’ll collaborate on a contract. One that dissolves the invisible boundary that has been the cause for so much suffering. In order to attain true peace, I shall offer you my only son.” She glanced at you and then back at your father. “Your daughter shall marry him when they are of age.”

“What?! No way! Ew! Gross!” Your voice came out shrill and you shook your head in protest. “I don’t wanna marry an octopus! No, I won’t do it!”

Your father stood in front of you. “She’s my only daughter. If something were to happen—”

“Which is precisely why I bring up this engagement. Should they be betrothed, we as their parents will promise to uphold peace to give them bright futures and they will act as the first example of a human-mer alliance. Unions between humans and merfolk are unheard of, but is this not the best way to foster harmony between the Land and Sea?”

“I won’t do it! No! Don’t make me marry a gross—” Emyr gathered you in his arms, holding his uninjured hand over your mouth.

“Let the grown-ups talk.”

Owin frowned. “I still don’t agree with this…”

Your father mulled it over, his eyes glazed in thought. “Very well. We will create a contract—an official peace treaty.”

Both leaders shook hands and planned to convene at the end of the week to discuss further.

You watched the mers depart, each one slipping under the sea. Floyd was the last to go, staring at you with a mean sort of vitriol. And then he, too, dove under.

“He didn’t mean it, right?” you whispered to Emyr after your father gave the order to turn the ship around and head for land. “I won’t have to marry an octopus, right?”

Emyr could only offer a commiserate frown.

“She’s a brat,” Floyd spits. “Stupid, evil Two Legs.”

Jade chuckles and runs his fingers over the scar. “I consider it an honor.”

“Yeah, well, I think it’s messed up. She’s the reason you can’t ever swim naturally again. While she’s up there in her pretty, little tower, safe and sound, you’re still hurting.”

“It’s not as much of a hindrance as you may think. I’m not weak, mind you.”

Floyd grumbles. “Still. She’s mean.”

Azul gazes up at the palace, sighing dreamily. “She’ll be my wife someday. That’s what humans call it, yes? Husband and wife… What wonderful words.”

It’s been one year since the peace treaty. Since then, humans and merfolk have made an effort to get along. This is the second time Azul will be meeting with you. He’s nervous. The first time you went out to sea to greet him, and he’d gotten so anxious that he inked right then and there. His mother entertained you from where you sat in the boat with your personal guard. It was a mortifying experience—one that had taken him months to recover from.

Now he’s going to try to meet you in the shallows. Try is the key word here. He’s scared, all three hearts beating as one. Is it too late to reschedule?

“I can’t believe you’re actually okay with this. You that lonely?”

Azul turns to scowl at both twins, but it’s mostly directed at Floyd. “I never asked you to tag along. Leave me alone.”

Jade smiles. “And let the Queen’s little prince swim to his death?”

“I can take care of myself.”

“Sure you can. But what about when Two Legs gets ya? What then?”

“She wouldn’t do that.”

Floyd rolls his eyes. “You saw what her brothers did to Jade.”

“Because you tried to kill her.”

“Because she was in our territory!”

Azul huffs and pushes him away with a tentacle. “Regardless, we’re supposed to be on good terms now. You’ll break the contract if you try anything dangerous.”

“He’s right, Floyd.”

“Ugh. Whatever.” Floyd turns away, stubborn. “This is lame. I’m not stickin’ around.”

Jade lingers long enough to observe the way Azul lights up when he spots you on the stone steps. And then he disappears beneath the water.

Barefoot, holding your dress up and out of the way, you pad across the beach.

“Why are you here? I’m busy. My brothers are taking me into town.”

The smile that had been fighting to break out on his face frosts over. “Oh. I… Um…” Azul fumbles with the conch shell he’d collected on the way here. A gift for you. He made sure to study human speech patterns in the months leading up to this meeting. He’s fully prepared! And yet you look so displeased. “F-For you! I found it…”

You stare at the shell clutched in a dark tentacle. Tentatively, you reach for it. “Why?”

“Ah. W-Well, my mother says gifts are an important part of any bond. In the sea, we give gifts to the ones we care about. To friends and family and o-other halves…”

You turn the shell over in your hands. “We’re not friends.”

“Not yet,” he tries, but you shake your head.

“You ran away from me the last time we met. That’s not very friendly.”

His face flushes blue and he opens his mouth to argue, but nothing comes out. It wasn’t on purpose.

You’re already turning on your heel. “I don’t have time for this.” You toss the shell over your shoulder. Azul watches it land in the sand, just out of his grasp.

“W-Wait! I… I want to talk to you. Please don’t go. You’re going to be my other half one day, so I’d like to—”

But you’re already dashing across the beach to get to the stairs.

Azul deflates against the rock. Tears overflow in floods. Is it because of him? Is he to blame? Why don’t you want to be his friend? Is it because of the peace treaty? Why?

Why? Why? Why?

Azul doesn’t want to think negatively of you. Humans are sensitive creatures. He reads up on them in the palace library, poring over literature and textbooks in an effort to better understand you. But as the months pass and you seem to simply tolerate him for the sake of the alliance, he begins to suspect something.

It’s made apparent the next time he sees you, where you walk right past the beach to catch up with your brothers. He hides behind the rocks, two blue eyes following your figure until you’re out of sight.

Floyd was right. You are a brat.

And yet he can’t hate you.

On the eve of your eighteenth birthday, Azul meets you in the shallows.

Nowadays you send letters, preferring strained long distance over the personal intimacy of face-to-face relations. These exchanges are purely diplomatic. But now that he’s asked to meet with you, a rare occurrence, you’ve deigned to greet him in person. It’s the least you can do after he’s gone through the trouble to travel here. It’s been so long since you’ve seen him that he’s almost unrecognizable. You remember the round, baby-faced octo-mer from your childhood. The one who lounges against the rocks is leaner now—his features defined, jawline as sharp as his eyes. They cut through the gloom to find you.

“You wished to see me?” You’re in your nightwear, a silky gown with an even softer robe. A cool breeze blows across the beach, and you wrap your arms around yourself for extra warmth. “Azul?”

He hesitates, his gaze trailing up your legs. You’ve also changed a lot in the time you’ve been apart. You’ve grown taller, filling out in places he didn’t know humans could fill. What he’d give to hold you… His mother says he needs to be patient. Fickle thing that you are, you’re the reason he’s spent six years trying to appease you through letters—to win you over and be anything more than that “annoying octopus” you’re doomed to marry. Perhaps it would have been easier to act just as you do if it weren’t for the fact that he’d been elated at the premise of having someone to love. When his mother broached the idea in the days following her meeting with the Land King, he’d stared at her with wide, excited eyes.

“There’s a human girl who wants to be my friend?” he asked, to which his mother smiled and nodded.

More than a friend, actually, but then all he was focused on was finally getting to experience the one thing he’d never known or had: friendship.

Sighing, he foregoes formality and holds out a necklace. It dangles from the tip of his tentacle. Strung on a dainty, silver strand, pearls wink back at you under the moonlight. Azul averts his eyes, his cheeks a pleasant periwinkle.

“Happy birthday…”

“Oh.” You move in closer, taking the necklace from him. His tentacle pursues you, twining delicately around your wrist. “Um… What is it? Do you need—whoa!”

Azul tugs you closer. The sea laps at your ankles. Beneath a tapestry of stars, you meet his azure stare. His features are set with a determination you’ve never seen before.

“I want to start over.”

“Start over?”

“I’d like to be on friendly terms with you. We’re so cold. Distant…” Azul frowns, seeming unsure of what to say or do next. The tentacle laced around your wrist like a bracelet tightens its hold. “We’re to be wed one day. I want to make this work.”

You blink at him. He thinks he may have gotten through to you, having finally broken through layers of stone and ice, but then your nose scrunches and odium shimmers in your gaze.

“That’s impossible. I’m a human. How am I supposed to live with an octopus?” You shake him off with a huff. “I’m not sure what our parents think this will accomplish. I don’t want to be a pawn to be moved around for the sake of peace. I’m my own person.”

Azul’s expression sours. His lip curls up into a sneer. “Well, I don’t find it very enjoyable either. You’re not the only victim in this scenario.”

You exhale an exhausted breath. “Azul, I appreciate the gift, but it doesn’t mean anything if you’re only giving it to me to curry favor.”

I wasn’t, he thinks, but he doesn’t say that. Admitting it would be a weakness. Admitting it would mean coming to terms with an unrequited opinion.

“At least one of us is making a conscious effort.”

“At least one of us isn’t trying so hard. It’s pathetic.”

“You’re not obligated to accept my goodwill.” He smiles, smug. “Yet you do every time. I’d wager you enjoy my materialistic affections.”

“As if.” Despite this, you hold the necklace out of his reach when a tentacle flexes towards it. “It’s mine now.”

“So you are fond of my ‘pathetic’ ways!”

“I’m not!”

You jerk away with a vicious scowl, but your foot catches in the sand and you quickly find yourself tipping backwards. If not for the tentacles that coil around your waist to steady you, you would have fallen on your rear. Your chest heaves with adrenaline. Stunned, you stare at Azul.

“You…caught me,” you breathe, lips parted in awe.

“Did you think I’d let you fall?” He cocks his head at you, grinning playfully. “Why, I’d never! Unless it’s me you’re falling for, in which case I gladly welcome the—”

“You’re such a pest.” Untangling yourself from his grasp, which he allows without scrimmage, you step away from the water’s edge. He watches you secure the pearls around your neck, and his hearts stumble in his chest when you point an accusatory finger at him. “Don’t delude yourself with foolish nonsense. I have no interest in you.”

With an indignant harrumph, you start towards the palace.

“May we meet here tomorrow?” Azul calls out after you, testing his luck with what little chance he has.

“Don’t push it.”

“I’ll wait for you.”

“Good. Keep waiting, dummy!” You break into a sprint, hurrying off into the shadows.

Azul smiles at the empty beach. Whether or not you like him, it doesn’t matter. You’re to be his one day. You’ve always been, ever since he was eleven.

He’ll wait, even if you won’t show.

Ostensibly, twenty-one years wise, you’re getting married today.

Your gown is just as exquisite as your hair and makeup. Pearls cling to your throat and arms—classic wedding attire for merfolk. A thin veil shields the scheme in your stare.

This was an inevitability, but you’re determined to fight it until the end. No matter how quickly time seems to pass, you’ll do everything you can to stall and slow it.

Gripping a sharpened dagger in a resolute fist, you drag it through the long, sprawling train of your gown.

“As if I’d marry an octopus,” you grumble, cutting fine fabric until you’re permitted smoother movement. Gazing at yourself in the mirror, you scowl. “I’m no one’s bride.”

By the time the maids arrive to check on you, you’ve already stolen out the window.

The rowboat sways on choppy water. You’ve watched your brothers do this enough times to have the technique engraved in your memory. Your arms strain with the oars, every muscle screaming in protest, but you fight through the pain. The palace looks smaller and smaller with every passing minute. Eventually, you’re so far out that the land is but a mere speck.

It’s going well. You’re escaping towards a better future—a future without the octopus prince.

You glance towards the horizon. Your boat undulates with the waves.

You’ll miss your brothers, your maids, your personal guard…

Water slops over the edge. You yelp, startled. Have the seas always been so rough?

Despite everything, you’ll miss your father.

Just as you think this, your boat rocks to the side. You grab onto the edge to steady yourself, but it’s already too late. It tips over and you go with it, careening into the sea with a noisy splash. Twin shadows cut seamlessly through the murky water. You catch sight of a yellow eye before you propel yourself towards the sky, coughing and heaving once you break the surface. You grab onto the overturned rowboat, your dagger clutched in one hand.

You search the surface for them, eyes flicking to and fro in a frantic panic.

Somewhere… Anywhere… Where are you?

And then you find them, peering at you from the other side of the boat.

“Go on then,” you spit, glaring. “Kill me.”

Floyd bares his teeth at you. “This time I ain’t gonna leave a scar.”

“You know we mustn’t. That’s not why we’re here.” Jade smiles at you, but there’s something in his eyes that unnerves you. “Your Highness, you should know it’s poor manners to leave the groom on his special day.”

Floyd circles you restlessly. “S’not fair we gotta be nice when you’re so mean.”

“I’m not going to marry him.”

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in that matter.”

“What’d Azul ever do to you?”

You attempt to answer that before realizing the truth. Nothing. He’s done absolutely nothing but be kind and understanding and patient. And I took that, chewed it up, and spat in his face.

“If you used that brain of yours, you wouldn’t have thrown yourself to the sharks. We can’t get to you on land.” “But it’s fair game in the sea,” Floyd finishes, every syllable dripping with pride. “Stupid Two Legs.”

“I’m inclined to agree. You’re not the brightest human. A pity.”

“My brother should’ve gutted you when he had the chance. Maybe then—”

You see the whites of Floyd’s eyes when he strikes, launching himself at you with a clawed hand, sharp, pointed teeth aiming for your jugular.

This is it. You’re dead.

…or not.

The searing pain never comes, nor does the impending laceration. You cling to the boat and watch dark tentacles rise from the depths to close around Floyd, ensnaring him in a firm hold. He thrashes, snapping his jaws like a deranged beast.

“Let go of me, Azul! Lemme at her! She’s a bitch! I’ll kill her!”

“There will be none of that.” Azul tuts. “I don’t intend to marry a corpse.”

Jade swims over to you. “My feelings aren’t hurt in the slightest, Your Highness. If it weren’t for your status and connection to Azul, I’d have disemboweled you ages ago. Quite a relief for you, yes?”

You swallow your horror, allowing him to detach you from the boat so that Azul can turn it over. A tentacle curls around your waist, lifts you from the water, and places you back in the boat. You stare at your hands. They’re trembling. You can hardly hold the dagger properly.

It takes some convincing and a lukewarm apology from you, but Floyd promises to be good. He doesn’t do anything as you’re pulled back to shore, but he does stare at you for the duration of the trip, his eyes tracking your every movement. You press yourself into the belly of the boat, defeated and riddled with anxiety.

Your father isn’t pleased. When you see his enraged expression, the debate dies on your tongue. “You are to marry the prince,” he seethes, pulling you aside, “or else you jeopardize the peace of our kingdom.”

You’re washed and fitted in a new dress. Guards are stationed at all possible routes to prevent another escape.

When you walk down the beach to meet Azul in the shallows, your veil shields the sadness in your stare.

The ceremony carries on without incident. Floyd watches from the water, lurking like Death. You speak rehearsed vows in robotic monotone, mindlessly floating through the rigmarole like it’s second nature. Azul smiles at you through it all, sweetly smitten.

It’s a nightmare lived in real time.

Humans and mers alike congratulate you, cheering for this momentous occasion. Your tongue is numb by the end of it all. You’ve expressed faux gratitude so many times that it hurts to even force the words. And now, as night descends and the party kicks into full swing, you’re left reflecting on the day.

Freedom feels so far away. You’ll never know it again, will you?

Azul guides you away from the crowd. Firelight grows dim with the distance. Eventually, you find yourself taking refuge in a tiny inlet cut into the beach. A rocky outcrop hides you from the moon’s spotlight.

“I’m not upset,” Azul murmurs, curling a tentacle up your leg. “But Floyd is.”

“His brother’s the one who hurt me all those years ago.”

“That was before the union.”

“I’m not letting it go.”

“Perhaps not now, but you will. One day.”

You don’t believe him.

“Our people are at peace. Aren’t you pleased, my love?”

You shove him away, gathering heaps of your dress to walk in calf-deep water. “I’m not your love.”

“Legally, you are.”

“That means nothing to me. Absolutely nothing.”

Azul sighs. “Even now, after everything, you’re still trying to flee.”

“For good reason. I don’t want to be tied down.”

Azul inches closer. Another tentacle wraps slyly around your ankle.

“You’re so beautiful. I feel like the luckiest mer in the sea. To be able to call you my own… My beautiful bride.” He pulls you closer. You resist weakly. “Now that we’re alone I can finally tell you the very thing I’ve thought of ceaselessly for years.”

A tentacle slides up your leg, straying closer to your inner thigh. You flinch away.

“Azul, wait. I don’t want—”

“I love you.”

You squirm in his hold, attempting to thwart the tentacles that grab at your every limb. You trip over yourself in the process. This time Azul doesn’t catch you. Water laps at your dress, soaking through at once. He’s radiant beneath the moon. Dreading his touch, you scoot as far from him as you can get in the water, hoping to reach land. Azul seizes your wrist and pulls you into his arms. You fight him with more force.

“No… No, let go of me! Release me!”

“Why should I? You’re mine now. Is it not customary for a married couple to consummate their new bond? We do something similar in the sea.” A tentacle brushes your veil back so that he can look upon your pretty face. “I’d take you to a quiet space in the seagrass, lay you down in the sand, and then—”

“I don’t want that! No!” You lash out, swinging blindly. A tentacle shoots out to stop your arm before it can smack him. “Azul, please—”

“I was patient. I waited and waited in hopes that you might warm up to me. I cherished you in silence. I learned your language. Your customs. Your habits. I wrote to you. Traveled to meet you. And yet you look at me as if I’m a monster…”

It’s not the devastated look in his eyes or the edge in his voice that scares you. It’s the startling gentleness with which he handles you. Tentacles loop around your body, exploring beneath your gown. You wriggle in discomfort, yelping when suckers brush against the frilly garter secured around your thigh. Azul hums and holds you up in his tentacles, using two to spread your legs so that he may slide it from your leg.

“I wasn’t forceful. I courted you kindly. You accepted all of my gifts. You wore them proudly and I thought—I knew you would love me, too. You were mine from the moment our parents signed that agreement. And if you leave me, you’ll break a political promise and then our kingdoms will go to war and I’ll be sure to collect the heads of your family first. Each one of them, and you will watch as I bring ruin to the kingdom you love so fondly.”

“N-No… Please stop. Please.”

“I’ve waited ten years for you.” A tentacle hooks around your panties. You thrash again, shaking your head at him. He remains unconvinced, watching with gleeful eyes as your nudity is revealed to him. “And aren’t you an angel? Oh, you’re so pretty…”

Like your hopes, your panties are cast aside.

The tip of a tentacle prods curiously at your pussy. Your breath hitches.

“W-Wait! You… You can’t.” His eyes find yours, and you swallow the rising sob. “T-That can’t go inside… It won’t fit. It won’t—”

Azul smiles. “Of course it will. The human body is capable of marvelous feats.”

Even though it’s pointless, you struggle. “I can’t! Please… Azul, I’m scared. Please don’t do this…”

A lone tentacle slides into your hand. Thoughtless, you hold tight.

“My love, there’s no need to cry. I’m not going to hurt you.” He brings you closer, kissing your tears away. “I’m here for you. I’ve always been here, even when you didn’t seem to need me.”

You hiccup, your chest heaving. It’s not lonely for long, for he pulls your dress down your shoulders. Your breasts spill free and are quickly cradled in cold hands. Azul watches your expression with an intense focus while he rolls your nipples between his fingers. You grit your teeth, refusing to respond. But then the tentacle between your legs finds your clit and a sucker affixes to it, suctioning slowly. You gasp and throw your head back, bolts of pleasure racing up your spine. It happens in a white-hot flash. You slacken in his grasp.

Azul laughs, astonished. “Did you cum? Already?”

“Nooo,” you whine, closing your hand around the tentacle once more. Another one strokes your cheek. “You’ve had your fun. Now let go of me…”

“What a silly demand.”

He tugs on your nipples. You groan, lashes fluttering. “Ooh… Stop. No, stop it… Don’t touch there. Not—haa… Not there!”

“You’re so sensitive.” He drags the underside of a tentacle along your cunt and shivers. “And so wet… Is this your season? Do humans experience such a thing?”

You’ve no idea what he’s referring to, but before you can dwell on it he leans down to take your perky bud in his mouth. Your free hand grabs at his hair, pinning him to your chest. His tongue laves across it, warm and wet. You shouldn’t enjoy it so much, and yet you can’t stop yourself from crying out.

He hums against your skin, beaming like a devil. You can’t hate him. He’s your husband. He’s yours. You shouldn’t hate him.

You’re falling apart in his tentacles, grinding down to chase the bliss provided by the underside of the appendage clinging to your pussy. The sinful squelch of skin on skin fills the quiet inlet. The scent of sex and salt intermingles. It’s wrong and it’s right. It’s instinct, carnal and corrupt. Azul groans against your breast, your teat between his teeth.

“Az—ooh!” You tug on his hair, insatiable. Your brain is fogging over with lust. You don’t want to lose yourself in this madness. You can’t. “N-No more… No more.” 

But he’s not listening. He pinches your other nipple between his fingers, and that’s all it takes for you to unravel.

In the aftermath, the tapered tip of a thicker tentacle squirms between your thighs. Mindlessly, you spread your legs and lift your hips for him. It presses in shallowly, a jarring experience.

“Not inside—don’t! You can’t!”

Azul pulls away from you, his expression scrunched in woozy ecstasy. “Why not?” he mumbles, smiling stupidly. “You’re my bride. It’s only fair…”

Before you can bicker, he kisses you. His tongue pursues yours in a sloppy tango. You lick into his mouth, desperate and dazed. Lost in a sea of salacity, shipwrecked on an island of forgotten inhibitions.

The tentacle pushes through rings of tight, slick muscle. Tears spring to your eyes. It feels weird and foreign, so unlike your fingers. He holds you close, minding his strength and pace. It fills you slowly, reaching places you’ve never been able to feel. The lust numbs your senses and gives way to something animalistic—a base desire you’ve suppressed. Azul rocks the appendage deeper until it’s pushed up against the entrance to your womb, squeezed snugly in your warm walls.

“I-It’s in…” you mumble once he’s broken the kiss, a strand of saliva connecting your mouths. “It’s really…inside me…”

Azul kisses your cheek and pets you with a tentacle. “We were made for each other.”

Surely not, you think, but it feels so when he draws back and thrusts in. Maybe he’s right.

He fucks you gently, savoring every single sound you make. He tells you he loves you, whispers it over and over like it’s prayer. You nod dumbly, grabbing at his hand to hold it. The both of you are gasping in unison, chasing cloud nine. In just a few more deep strokes, his tip bullying its way to your womb, he finally finds his end. A thin substance fills you up in plentiful amounts. Distantly, you think it’s water until he drags your hips further down. Your mouth drops open in a strangled scream as something round and gelatinous passes through. It settles in your womb, and you know right away that it shouldn’t be there.

You panic. “W-Wait… Wha—Zul… Stop… No, I don’t want—”

“It’s all right,” he breathes, his mouth on your shoulder. He soothes you with soft shushes and even softer kisses. “You’re okay. I’m here.”

You dig your nails into the tentacle curled in your palm just as a second orb squeezes through. He groans, his eyes squeezed shut.

“Finally…” He pants, a wobbly smile stretching on his delirious countenance. “Finally, my love, my dear—oh, my beloved bride!”

He cradles you like a mother would a newborn. You lie there as he fills you, your voice hoarse from babbling and bewailing. These things—little orbs of jelly—are stuffed into your womb, and by the time you surpass twenty you lose count and blank out, trembling through yet another orgasm. You’re not sure how many more he has left or how many more you can possibly fit. It feels too good to think about that.

“Bigger. They’ll get bigger. You’ll look so pretty—round and full and soft.”

Dizzy, you glance at the bloated dome that is your belly. Your gown strains over it, an impressively deceptive size that you almost mistake for pregnancy. That’s when it clicks. Eggs. These are eggs.

“I’ll make sure they survive. All of them—as many as I possibly can. I’ll stay by your side. I’ll keep you content. I’ll fill you with love—so much love—an abundance of it, and you’ll never know emptiness again,” he rambles, resting a tentacle over your distended middle.

It’s not just a senseless sweet nothing. It’s a promise.

[shdysders]

what we were

pairing: tara carpenter & reader

summary: in which you would’ve married tara, if she had stuck around.

word count: 4.9k

author’s note: just bare with me.

You had never planned on getting married.

It wasn't a conscious decision, just something that slowly etched itself into the back of your mind as the years passed.

Growing up, you'd watched your mother pick up the pieces after your father left, her quiet strength masking the pain that you knew lingered beneath the surface.

There was no bitter divorce or fiery arguments to signal his departure—just the gradual fading of a man who was once the center of your world.

One day, he was gone, leaving only the hollow echo of promises that were never meant to be kept.

Your mother never talked much about it, but you could see the toll it took on her.

How she would stare out of the kitchen window a little too long, lost in memories that were best left untouched.

You learned early on that love, in its most idealized form, was fragile—something that could shatter without warning, leaving you to pick up the shards.

So, you built walls, fortified them with indifference, and told yourself that you didn't need anyone to complete you.

Marriage was a fairy tale, one that you had long since stopped believing in.

That was, until you met Tara.

Tara, was everything you never knew you needed; sharp-witted, fiercely independent, with a heart bigger than she'd ever admit.

The first time you met her, you were caught off guard by how effortlessly she seemed to break through the walls you'd spent years constructing.

It wasn't just her smile, though that alone could've disarmed you; it was the way she looked at you, like she saw past the armor you wore and straight into the core of who you were.

You tried to keep your distance at first, reminding yourself that you didn't believe in forever. But Tara wasn't the kind of person you could easily push away.

She had this way of showing up when you least expected it, making you laugh when you wanted to be serious, and staying when you needed someone most—even when you couldn't admit it.

Slowly, almost imperceptibly, the idea of a life without her became more terrifying than the fear of losing her.

It wasn't that the old wounds from your past magically healed, or that the doubts you harbored suddenly disappeared.

But with Tara, the possibility of something lasting felt less like a fairy tale and more like something real—something you could hold onto, despite the uncertainties that lingered in the corners of your mind.

You found yourself imagining a future, not in the abstract way you used to, where it was always just you—alone and self-reliant—but a future that included her.

The thought scared you, but it also made you feel something you hadn't felt in a long time: hope.

It wasn't long before Tara started talking about you to her friends, and soon after, you found yourself meeting the people who meant the most to her.

A few months into your relationship, Tara built up the courage to allow you to meet Sam.

From everything Tara had told you about her sister, you quickly learned that Sam was hard to please.

She was fiercely protective, always scrutinizing anyone who got close to Tara, and you figured you'd be just another name on her list of disapprovals.

However, that was never the case.

Tara later explained how surprised she was when Sam actually warmed up to you.

She had told you how Sam had admitted that, for the first time, she didn't feel the need to interrogate or push you away.

Sam had seen something in you that made her feel comfortable, something that made her believe you were different from the others who had come before. It was an unspoken approval, one that Tara knew was rare and precious.

The approval was more than just a stamp of acceptance; it was a sign that maybe, just maybe, you were capable of the kind of love you'd always doubted existed—at least for you.

But even then, despite the closeness you and Tara shared, you never thought you'd be the kind of person who'd want to settle down, to make that ultimate commitment.

Marriage was still an abstract concept, one that other people did, but never you.

You had convinced yourself that you didn't need a ring or a ceremony to validate what you and Tara had.

But as the months turned into years, you started to realize that it wasn't about the validation. It was about wanting to build something with her—something lasting and undeniable.

You found yourself imagining a future where Tara was by your side, not just in an abstract sense, but in every way that mattered.

The thought of proposing crept into your mind one day, completely unbidden, and you immediately tried to push it away. You weren't the type to get down on one knee, to promise forever when you knew how easily forever could be taken away.

Yet, the idea persisted, lingering at the edge of your thoughts, especially during the quiet moments when Tara was asleep beside you, her hand resting gently on your chest, as if she was anchoring you to her.

You'd never imagined yourself as the kind of person who would propose to anyone. The very idea felt foreign, as if it belonged to someone else's story. But with Tara, you started to wonder if maybe, just maybe, you'd been wrong all along.

It wasn't that you suddenly believed in marriage as a concept, but rather, you believed in what you had with Tara.

Maybe this was exactly the kind of story you wanted to write—a story where you weren't afraid to say, "I choose you," not just today, but every day for the rest of your life.

Two years into your relationship, you made the decision to propose.

Surprisingly, you had even gotten Sam's permission, something you never thought you'd need but found yourself seeking anyway, wanting her blessing before taking such a significant step.

The idea had been slowly taking shape in your mind, and now it felt like the right time. You wanted it to be perfect, not flashy or over-the-top, but something that felt true to both of you.

One of your usual date nights seemed like the perfect setting—familiar, yet with the potential to become something unforgettable.

You decided to make the night extra special. When you suggested going to a more expensive restaurant than your usual spots, Tara was visibly surprised.

She had raised an eyebrow and teased you about suddenly getting fancy, almost saying no because of the high prices.

But when you offered to cover everything, her smile had softened, and she had agreed.

You knew that Tara wasn't one for grand gestures or extravagant displays, which is why you kept the details simple yet meaningful.

The restaurant was intimate, with dim lighting and a cozy atmosphere, the kind of place where you could easily lose yourselves in conversation.

You had made sure to pick a spot that you knew Tara would love—somewhere that felt like the two of you, but elevated just enough to mark the occasion.

As the evening approached, you could feel the anticipation building, but there was also a sense of calm.

This wasn't about proving anything or trying to impress her; it was about sharing a moment that would forever change the course of your lives together, for the better.

You had planned every detail carefully, but more than anything, you just wanted to tell Tara exactly what you'd been feeling for so long—that you couldn't imagine a future without her, and that you didn't want to.

When the time finally came, you chose to wear the sundress that Tara had once told you she loved on you. It was a soft, flowing dress in a shade of pale blue that always made you feel both comfortable and confident.

You wore your hair half up, half down, just the way Tara liked it, with a few loose strands framing your face. You wanted to look your best, but more importantly, you wanted to look like yourself—the person Tara fell in love with.

Tara arrived in a sleek, black blouse paired with dark jeans, an outfit that was effortlessly chic and perfectly her.

The way she carried herself always took your breath away, and tonight was no different. But as you sat across from each other at the candle-lit table, you noticed that she seemed a bit off.

Tara was looking around nervously, her eyes darting from the menu to the other diners, then back to you, as if she had something else on her mind.

Your own nerves were starting to bubble up, the weight of what you were about to do making your heart race.

You couldn't shake the anxious thoughts running through your head—what if you didn't find the right words, or if the moment didn't go as planned?

But every time Tara's eyes met yours, you found yourself smiling. It was impossible not to. Even with the nerves, even with the uncertainty of how she might react, you knew that this was the right decision.

As you both settled into the evening, your food arrived, and you began eating, trying to keep the conversation flowing naturally despite the butterflies in your stomach.

You had it all planned out. The proposal was going to happen after you both had finished your meal.

You knew Tara's appreciation for surprises and had arranged something special with the restaurant staff. When the time came, a waitress would bring out a beautifully wrapped box, something you had requested to make the moment even more memorable.

It was a small gesture, but one that you knew Tara would appreciate—a carefully wrapped box with a heartfelt message inside that symbolized the depth of your feelings.

The idea was for Tara to open the box and discover a note or memento that would lead into the proposal.

The plan was for Tara to see the message first, giving you just enough time to reach for the ring and get down on one knee before she fully realized what was happening.

You imagined the look of surprise and joy on her face as she opened the box, unaware that this was just the beginning of the moment you had carefully orchestrated.

You kept up the conversation, trying to keep things light and natural despite the nervous energy building inside you.

Tara seemed a little distracted, still glancing around the room every now and then, but you didn't press her on it. You wanted everything to feel as normal as possible until the big reveal.

Every bite was a mix of anticipation and excitement, your heart pounding as you mentally rehearsed what you were going to say.

Tara, on the other hand, seemed to be in her own world, picking at her food more than usual and occasionally glancing around the room, almost as if she had something else on her mind.

You couldn't help but feel a bit of nervousness from her too.

You took a deep breath, reminding yourself that soon, you'd be asking the most important question of your life.

As you were both eating in comfortable silence, Tara suddenly set down her fork and shifted in her seat. She looked like she was trying to gather her thoughts, and then she spoke up, her voice soft but uncertain.

"So..." she began, her eyes filled with nervous energy as she looked up at you. You immediately sensed that whatever she was about to say was important, so you paused, giving her your full attention.

"I've been thinking about something," she continued, her words tentative, as if she was unsure how to start.

For a brief moment, a thought flashed through your mind—was she planning to propose too?

But that idea was quickly replaced by a gnawing feeling of concern as you noticed the hesitation in her voice, the way she avoided your gaze for just a moment too long.

"I'm not really sure how to say this," she finally said, her voice wavering slightly. "But... I've been having some doubts lately. Not about us, exactly, but about... where we're headed. About the future."

Her words hit you like a cold splash of water, and suddenly the nervousness you'd been feeling took on a different edge. You forced yourself to stay calm, to keep listening as she continued.

"It's not that I don't love you," she said quickly, as if she could see the worry in your eyes. "I do, so much. But I've been wondering if we're moving too fast, or if maybe... we're not moving in the same direction anymore. I've thought a lot about it, and I keep coming back to the same thing. I don't know if I can keep going like this, if this is what's best for either of us."

Tara's voice cracked slightly as she continued, her words coming out in a rush, as if saying them faster would somehow make them hurt less.

"I've been thinking about this for a while, and I didn't know how to bring it up because the last thing I want is to hurt you. But the more I've thought about it, the more I realized that maybe this is the right thing, for both of us. I don't want you to think that this is about you, or that you did something wrong, because you haven't. You've been nothing but amazing, but I just... I think maybe we've grown in different directions, or maybe I'm just not in the right place to be in a relationship right now."

"I think... I think we need to take a step back. Maybe a break, or maybe... we need to stop this altogether."

She paused only briefly before continuing, her words stumbling over each other as she tried to justify what she was saying.

"I mean, I don't even know if I'm making sense right now, and I'm probably messing this up completely. But I just don't want us to keep going down this path if it's not the right one, you know? I care about you so much, and that's why this is so hard. I wish I could just... make this easier somehow."

You felt your heart shatter with each word, your entire body going cold as the reality of what she was saying set in. Your face must have betrayed the sheer disbelief and devastation you felt because Tara's eyes softened, but it did nothing to ease the pain ripping through you.

Your hands, which had been steady on the table, began to tremble uncontrollably. You quickly pulled them into your lap, trying to hide the shaking but finding it impossible to stop.

The fork you had been holding clattered against your plate as you set it down, your fingers no longer able to maintain their grip.

It felt like your mind was racing and shutting down all at once. You couldn't focus on her words, the constant stream of explanations and apologies blending into a blur of noise that only amplified the void growing in your chest.

It was as though the ground had disappeared beneath your feet, leaving you suspended in a moment of pure, paralyzing disbelief.

You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, but it only seemed to grow, making it hard to breathe.

The sting of tears pricked at your eyes, but you blinked rapidly, refusing to let them fall, not here, not now.

Your lips parted, as if to say something, but no words came out. How could they, when everything you wanted to say felt too small, too insignificant compared to the enormity of what was happening?

The silence between you was suffocating, and you could feel your heart pounding in your chest, each beat a painful reminder of the reality you were struggling to accept.

Tara's eyes were fixed on you, wide and pleading, as if she desperately wanted you to understand, to say something that would make this easier, but there was nothing you could offer her.

Your hands, now hidden beneath the table, clenched into fists so tightly that your nails dug into your palms, the pain barely registering against the overwhelming numbness that had settled in.

You could feel the warmth of the room closing in on you, the walls seeming to press closer as you fought to keep your composure.

Tara's voice broke the silence again, softer this time, almost a whisper. "I'm so sorry," she said, her own eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"I didn't want it to be like this. I wish I could take it all back, but I can't. I just... I didn't know how else to do this."

Her apology only added to the weight in your chest, and you could feel a tear finally escape, slipping down your cheek before you could stop it.

You quickly wiped it away, but it was too late—Tara had seen it, and the sight seemed to break something in her too.

She reached out, as if to comfort you, but hesitated, her hand hovering just above the table before she withdrew it again, uncertainty written all over her face.

It was as if she knew that any attempt to console you would only make things worse.

"I never wanted to hurt you," she whispered, the words barely audible as she looked down at her hands, now twisting together in her lap. "You have to believe that."

You wanted to scream, to demand why, to tell her how wrong she was, how she was breaking something that had been so good, so right.

But all you could do was sit there, frozen, as the weight of her words continued to sink in.

The future you had imagined, the plans you had started to make in your head—it all felt like it was crumbling before your eyes, and there was nothing you could do to stop it.

The silence stretched on, heavy and oppressive, as you sat there, staring blankly at your lap. Tara's words seemed to hang in the air, and the weight of them was almost unbearable.

The tears you had been trying to hold back had started to fall more freely, slipping down your cheeks in a steady stream.

Tara watched you with a mix of anguish and desperation, her own eyes brimming with tears that she was struggling to keep at bay.

"Please," she said, her voice breaking as she finally spoke, "please say something."

Her plea was almost a whisper, but it carried the weight of her regret and her need for any kind of response from you. She was clearly tormented by the sight of you in pain and the realization that she was the cause.

As you sat there, lost in your turmoil, the restaurant's ambiance seemed to fade into the background.

The clinking of dishes and the soft murmur of conversations around you felt distant and muffled. The weight of the conversation you'd just had with Tara hung heavily in the air, each word echoing painfully in your mind.

Just then, the sound of footsteps approached your table, and a waitress appeared, holding a small, elegantly wrapped box. She smiled warmly as she set the box down in front of Tara. "Congratulations!" she said cheerfully.

The unexpected greeting cut through the somber mood, and Tara's eyes widened in surprise. Her gaze darted between the box and you, the reality of the situation hitting her with a jolt. "Oh... um, we didn't order anything like this," Tara said, her voice a mix of confusion and discomfort.

The waitress smiled politely. "It was actually a special request from someone who wanted to celebrate with you. I hope you enjoy it!"

Tara's face turned pale as the waitress walked away, leaving the box on the table. The cheerful congratulations seemed to hang in the air, contrasting starkly with the heavy silence that had enveloped the two of you.

As Tara stared at the box, the realization began to dawn on her. The weight of her words, the hurt she had caused, and the timing of this surprise all seemed to collide in her mind.

Her gaze fell back to you, the gravity of the moment settling in even more deeply. The congratulations, intended for a joyous occasion, now highlighted the painful irony of the situation.

Tara's hands trembled slightly as she reached for the box, her fingers hovering over it as if touching it might make the reality of what was happening even more real. "Is this... is this what I think it is?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mix of disbelief and dread.

You didn't respond right away, your eyes fixed on the box as well, but not really seeing it.

The moment you had spent weeks planning, imagining how it would unfold, had turned into a twisted echo of what it should have been.

The anticipation, the joy you had envisioned on her face, was replaced with this heavy, suffocating silence.

Tara's voice grew more desperate, almost pleading as she repeated, "Were you... were you going to propose?" Her eyes searched yours, looking for some kind of denial, something that could make this all less real, less painful.

You nodded slowly, your throat too tight to speak. The words you had prepared, the heartfelt confession of love and commitment, were now stuck somewhere deep inside, unreachable.

Tara's fingers trembled as she carefully unwrapped the box, her breath catching as she lifted the lid. Inside, nestled in a bed of velvet, was the ring—delicate, simple, and exactly her style. The realization hit her all at once, leaving her breathless.

She stared at it, eyes wide with the shock of realization.

She paused, her breath shaky as she tried to form a coherent thought. "I... I thought we were on the same page. I thought... God, I didn't mean for it to be like this."

You could see the tears welling up in her eyes, but you couldn't bring yourself to say anything. The words felt too heavy, too final. All you could do was sit there, the ring between you like a painful reminder of what could have been.

She looked up at you, her eyes filled with regret. "I... I didn't think..." she started, her voice trailing off as she struggled to find the right words.

The box, meant to be a celebratory gesture, now seemed like a painful reminder of everything that was unraveling.

The sight of the box, coupled with the realization of how her actions had intersected with the surprise, only deepened the sadness in the room.

She knew that the box was part of a carefully planned proposal—a gesture that was supposed to mark a new chapter in your lives together.

Her thoughts were consumed by the realization of what you had intended.

She could almost see the moment you had envisioned: the box opening to reveal a heartfelt message or token that would lead into a proposal.

Tara had always admired how much thought you put into your plans, and she could imagine the love and hope you had poured into this gesture.

The irony of the situation hit her. Hard.

Here was a beautiful, wrapped box that was meant to symbolize a future together, and yet, it was now sitting in front of her at a moment when the future seemed so uncertain.

The very thing that was supposed to be a celebration of your commitment was now a reminder of the choice she had made.

Tara felt a deep pang of regret as she thought about how much you wanted to marry her, how you had envisioned this proposal as a milestone in your relationship.

How you had trusted her enough. 

She grappled with the realization that while you had been preparing to take a significant step forward, she was now pulling away.

The box represented everything she was suddenly unsure about, and the emotional weight of that contradiction was almost unbearable.

The anticipation and excitement she might have felt for the proposal were overshadowed by the painful reality of the moment, making her wish more than ever that things could be different.

As Tara struggled with the emotional weight of the moment, another waitress approached your table with a notepad in hand.

"Excuse me," she said with a bright smile, "are you ready to order your desserts?"

The question seemed to pierce through the heavy atmosphere, and you sniffled before looking up with tear-filled eyes. Your voice was barely above a whisper, trembling as you said, "I don't think we're staying for dessert. I think we're going to leave."

Tara's heart broke at the sight of you, her own tears threatening to spill as she saw the pain in your eyes.

The sadness in your voice, coupled with the way you tried to hold yourself together, was almost too much for her to bear.

The image of you standing there, so small and hurt, was a stark contrast to the joyful proposal you had imagined.

As you began to stand up, Tara's voice cracked as she reached out, her hands shaking. "Y/N, please don't leave."

She paused, searching for the right words, her voice filled with desperation. "Please, let's just... talk this through. I don't want to lose you like this. There's so much I need to say."

Tara's gaze was locked on you, her eyes pleading as she took a shaky breath. The pain of the situation was evident in her expression, and she hoped against hope that you would stay, if only for a little while longer.

You swallowed hard, trying to keep your composure as you finally spoke, your voice barely above a whisper. "It's fine, Tara."

But your voice betrayed you, shaking as you said the words, even though nothing about this felt fine.

You wanted to say more, to explain how lost and hurt you felt, but the words caught in your throat, and all you could do was shake your head slightly. "I just... I don't know what to say."

You sniffled, quickly wiping away a tear that escaped before Tara could see it. "I'll talk to you later, okay?" But even as you said it, the words felt empty, like a promise you weren't sure you could keep.

Without waiting for a response, you stood up from the table, your movements stiff and mechanical, as if you were on autopilot.

Tara watched you, her eyes wide with guilt and fear, but she stayed silent, her throat tightening as she saw the pain etched on your face.

You turned to leave, and Tara instinctively stood up, almost as if to follow, but she stopped herself.

Her hand gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white as she held herself back. She knew she couldn't make this better right now, and the weight of that realization pressed heavily on her chest.

You pushed open the door, the night air hitting you as you stepped outside.

For a moment, you paused, feeling the tears threatening to spill over again, but you forced yourself to keep walking, each step taking you further away from the person you thought you'd spend your life with.

Inside the restaurant, Tara remained standing, her heart aching with a crushing guilt she couldn't shake.

She wanted to call out to you, to beg you to come back, but the words wouldn't come.

All she could do was watch as you disappeared into the night, the echo of your voice—the pain in it—ringing in her ears.

And as the door swung shut behind you, Tara was left standing there, alone, the weight of what had just happened pressing down on her.

She didn't move, didn't sit back down, just stood there, staring at the spot where you had been, feeling like everything had just slipped through her fingers.

But she knew, deep down, that following you wouldn't fix this—that nothing she could say right now would take away the hurt she had caused.

And that was something she would have to live with.

So she stayed where she was, the guilt heavy and suffocating, knowing that all she could do was wait and hope that this wasn't the last time she'd see you.

But she also knew that, for now, there was nothing more she could do.

Walking away, every step was taking you further from the life you thought you'd have, the future that had seemed so certain just hours before.

You had believed that you and Tara were writing the same story, that the future you both wanted was shared, built on a foundation of love and dreams whispered late into the night.

But standing there, with her words unraveling everything you thought was certain, you realized that while you had been planning a lifetime together, she had been questioning if that future was ever truly meant to be.

The hardest part wasn't just hearing her doubts—it was understanding that she had quietly let go of the future you were still holding onto.

She had left that future behind long before she ever said the words, moving on from the life you thought you would share.

And now, all that was left were the pieces of a dream that you had been building alone.

[samkerrworshipper]

replaced

sam kerr x sister!reader

um i wrote a fic? sorry for the chelsea fans but i simply couldnt make this solely chelsea. glad that i could please the SK fans tho yall are patient and queens! hope you all enjoy and lmk what else you might want to see in the future 👀 love you all!

warnings: none? that i’m aware of !

There was something completely all-consuming about the thought of a tiny alien growing inside of a body. It made you uncomfortable, thinking about a tiny human with a deformed body and underdeveloped everything just existing inside of a person. To put it lightly, it freaked you out. It was possibly the best birth control for a 16-year-old seeing firsthand what it looked like when a baby kicked or hearing the sounds of first-trimester morning sickness. You’d made it very clear to your sister that yes, whilst you were willing to babysit once the deformed fetus entered the world and was slightly less deformed, you would take some responsibilities. You wanted nothing to do with it until it made its grand entrance into the world. 

That didn’t change the fact that yours, your sister’s, and your sister’s fiancé’s lives had very quickly come to revolve solely around your future niece or nephew in a very short amount of time. Normally, it wouldn’t bother you in the slightest. If anything, you were usually doing anything and everything to get Sam and Kristie to leave you alone, but there was something different about their attention completely revolving around the life that the two of them were building together. 

It hadn’t mattered truly when they’d missed your parent-teacher interviews for an anatomy scan or missed your first training with the senior Chelsea team because Kristie had woken up with such bad morning sickness that she hadn’t been able to leave the bathroom for hours, or when you’d had to walk 3 miles from school to the training grounds because your sister had been up so late trying to make Kristie comfortable enough to sleep that she’d completely forgotten that she was supposed to pick you up early on a Thursday so you didn’t miss training. 

None of it mattered individually, but altogether, it made a difference. 

It had been a big decision moving halfway across the world to live with your sister at 15. You were a good football player, you weren’t anywhere near the prodigy of your sister, but if you wanted to make strides in your career, it was the best decision to move to London to play in the academy. It didn’t make the decision any easier; you were moving in with your sister that you’d essentially not known for most of your childhood. Too wrapped up in her own career in other countries to spend any time with you. Yet the moment it had even been an option, she was ecstatic at the idea of you joining her in London, taking you under her wing, and truly welcoming you into the tight-knit family that Kristie and her had built in London. 

It was good, it was so good. You had made advancements in your football that you didn’t think were possible; school was good, and for once in your life, you felt like you were actually in a place where you were fully understood and at peace. 

It had been perfect, until Sam had torn her ACL a couple of months into your stay, and then things had gone downhill. It wasn’t anything you couldn’t deal with; in terms of the footballing aspect of your life, it was definitely tough. You didn’t have your training buddy or your person to help you settle into the club that still kind of terrified you. On the flip side, you got to spend a whole lot more one-on-one time with your sister, and her girlfriend was there to cater to all of your football needs. After the initial impacts of her surgery, life had mostly gone back to normal; sure, your sister wasn’t there physically on the pitch with you, but she was there to support you in every other way. 

Then, the idea of a baby had been mentioned. 

It wasn’t alarm bells from the beginning. At first, it had mostly seemed like an idea for the future, not near future. Of course, they wanted to start a family, and of course, you wanted that for them. It just hadn’t been made clear to you that it was a plan for the present. Until you’d been sitting on the couch on a movie night, and a gift bag had been thrust into your hands. The both of them had the goofiest smiles on their faces that you’d known that something had been up. You just hadn’t expected a positive pregnancy test to be the source of the excitement. 

Initially, not much had changed. The pregnancy was so early on that the biggest worry was an early miscarriage and making sure that the three of you didn’t let the information slip too early. 

It had been completely fine. Life had kept on moving, until the symptoms had started. 

First, it was a bit of exhaustion, then some vomiting, headaches, nausea, more vomiting, migraines, insomnia, every possible pregnancy symptom you could think of. Kristie was afflicted by every possible pregnancy symptom. 

You felt bad. Here, two of your favourite people were trying to start a family, and it was starting off as hell. 

Then the feelings of sympathy had very quickly turned into resentment and then into isolation. 

You resented the fact that you didn’t feel at home anymore. There was nothing homey about the situation you were living in. You felt like in a number of fleeting weeks you had gone from feeling on top of the world to feeling like you no longer belonged in the life that you’d so recently settled into. 

It was a rough realisation to come to that you were no longer wanted, that you were being replaced. 

It was a slow process, but it was easy to figure out when you were and weren’t wanted, and in the picture-perfect future life of your sister and her fiancé, it was clear that you weren’t. 

You were 17, you were on the cusp of being an adult, you just hadn’t expected to be thrust into your independent adulthood so early on. A shiny new baby was going to replace you, and once that happened you were going to be even more unwanted than you already felt before it was introduced to the world. 

Whilst you knew that your mood was being affected by the neglect you were suffering, it was all too easy to blame it on the exams you were going through for your last year of school, or the slight injury setbacks that were keeping you from your first minutes for the blues, or the fact that you were a teenager with fluctuating moods. You didn’t expect your slightly off interactions or slightly less happy demeanor to be a warning sign for anybody, specifically the people closest to you. Your performance on the training pitch had been as good as usual, you’d been saying all the right things, acting in all the right ways even though you actively felt like a stranger in the apartment and life you’d once felt like was home. 

You’d managed to allude to all of the people closest to you, it just hadn’t occurred to you that people on the outside would notice your slightly off behaviour. 

Lucy was one person at the club who was newer than you, even though you didn’t necessarily fit in with all the older girls due to the age disparity it was common knowledge that you were an extension of your sister, people who were friends with Sam were friends of yours. It was a little bit embarrassing that in hindsight most of the people were only friends with you as a result of your last name but it was easier to just accept it. 

Lucy was one person that wasn’t particularly close with your sister, on no means were they enemies, they just didn’t hang out with the same people. If Sam and her didn’t interact on the regular then neither did you, that was just how it worked. 

It’s why you’d been a little bit surprised when she’d asked you to be her spotting partner in the gym. A few sets in, though, it had become abundantly clear that Lucy had ulterior motives. 

“So what does a kid like you do nowadays to have a little bit of fun, uh?”

You weren’t sure if spotting for Lucy was much help at all. There was absolutely zero possibility that if she failed, you were going to be able to lift the weight that she was pressing. The ease with which she did it all was shocking and enough of a focus for you. 

“Play soccer for one of the best teams in England.”

Lucy laughs, even though all you’re doing is being honest. Between school, football, and trying to live up to the expectations of your sister, you don’t have time for ‘fun’.

“It must be hard, having so much pressure on you, so young?”

You shake your head. You don’t think of it that way. Pressure is privilege. That’s what your mom had taught you, and then your brother, and now your sister. Pressure is what had made you good enough to be where you were. 

“It’s more pressure trying to decide what to have for breakfast in the morning than coming here every day.”

Lucy finishes her set and sits up, looking at you in a way that makes you feel like you have to ask. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Her tongue pushes against the inside of her cheek, and you get the feeling that you’re going to be told something you don’t want to hear. 

“You’ve been acting differently lately, spacey, less present. I’m just wondering if there is any particular reason.”

You focus on switching the weights from Lucy’s bar to yours and lying down on the bench she’d previously occupied. 

“I don’t know what would give you that impression.”

You focus on your set, and Lucy uses it as an excuse to stare at you in the exact same way she had been all morning. 

“You look like a kicked puppy all the time. You’re less happy, less comfortable. You look like you’re on edge all the time.”

It’s a list of traits that probably suit you. You’ll admit that you’ve been less than enthusiastic in recent times, but you hadn't thought it had been extremely noticeable. Sam hadn’t noticed, not that she noticed much about you anymore. 

“Didn’t realise you were so focused on the team protege, Bronzey.”

Like Sam, you were a pro in humorous deflection, yet when you spoke it came off with an unfamiliar edge that made you uncomfortable. 

“I’m worried about one of my teammates and friends because they’re exhibiting behaviours that are unfamiliar for them and no one else seems to be noticing.”

You finish your set and focus on drinking from your water bottle and not making too much eye contact with Lucy. 

“Lot of big words coming from you, Luce.”

Lucy’s determination doesn’t fade. She looks at you the same way. 

“So it’s not football. I’m going to make an educated guess that it’s not school. You’re going to be an aunt and you’ve got a good family situation. What is it?”

You must flinch, even if you don’t feel it. You must because Lucy’s eyes light up. 

“So it’s Kerr household issues then?”

You focus on finishing your set again. You focus on the feeling of your arms pushing and relaxing, the feeling of all your muscles stretching and slackening. 

“You know you can talk to me about it. I might not have the best advice, but I won’t judge you or go and tell your sister about it or anything.”

You finish the set, and all that’s on your mind is that you have one more to go. One more and you can remove yourself from whatever this awkward conversation is and go and hide in some other corner like normal. 

“I don’t know what makes you think it’s any of your business.”

You’re three reps in, nowhere near failure, yet on the next one, Lucy takes over and pulls the bar up and onto the rack. 

Before you can have a go at her, she sits down next to you on the bench, and for whatever reason, puts an arm around your shoulder. It makes you incredibly uncomfortable, and you flinch away almost immediately, but Lucy doesn’t shy away. 

“Look, whether it’s from a teammate to another teammate, or a friend to a friend, or whatever you feel most comfortable calling it. You don’t seem like you’re doing okay. If I can tell, it’s not going to be long before other people figure it out. I don’t really know you properly, but you seem like a good kid. You also don’t seem like the kind of person who likes to be vulnerable in front of people you don’t trust. If you don’t let go of whatever has clearly been bothering you, then that’s probably the inevitable if you don’t talk to somebody about it or get it off your chest. That person by no means has to be me or anyone else here. Just think about it, okay? You’re not alone. I can’t imagine how hard it would be playing here and everyone constantly making you feel like you were in your sister’s shadow. You aren’t just your sister, though. People around here like you beyond that, and they’re here to support you beyond that. You aren’t your last name.”

You’d be a liar if you said that Lucy’s words didn’t hit you a little bit, but you didn’t let her see that. You shook her arm off you and rolled your eyes. 

“You have no fucking clue what it’s like to be me. Don’t try and make it out like you understand.”

Before she could say anything else that remotely played on your heartstrings, you walked away, dragging your drink bottle and gear off to the other side of the gym and settling into whatever exercises for your ankle strength. 

You didn’t like to admit it, but what Lucy said to you resonated with you for the rest of the day. It had you in your head, thinking about it over and over again. You were second-guessing everything, and it translated out onto the pitch. In training, you were sloppy, to the point of nearly injuring yourself due to a lack of awareness. If you were trying to prove that you were over your setbacks, then it was a clear testament to the opposite. You were evidently a shit show. It was what was expected of you. You were a teenager. You were expected to crash out, to not be able to live up to the constant expectations of being a professional every day. You were falling into the one stereotype that you spent every minute of every day trying to claw away from. Already consumed by the reality of your stupifying family situation and adding on self-doubt about your every action was a whole new mind game that you’d never truly experienced. 

There was one part about what Lucy had said that had stuck with you the most. If you didn’t get it off your chest soon, it was inevitable that you were going to let it slip in far worse ways, and that was a slippery slope you had no intention of going down. 

It wasn’t surprising that your sister wasn’t there to pick you up after training had finished. There was a slew of excuses that trumped you. You were used to being forgotten. As the reality of new life being brought into the Kerr household became more real, it only felt like you were fading further. 

You didn’t want to go home, not to a place where you actively felt like an impostor. You didn’t have many people to lean on, though. As much as Lucy tried to make it out like you were an individual person at Chelsea, you weren’t. You were Sam Kerr’s younger sister, the baby of the family, the nepotism sister, riding on your sister’s success and reaping whatever benefits came from it. You were a complete result of your sister, stuck in a never-ending cycle of following her footsteps. 

In Australia, you’d had individuality, your parents’ sole focus. Your football wasn’t as good, but you hadn’t questioned your existence or how you fitted into spaces. Yet in England, or with your sister, you had to second-guess everything, were forced to feel like you didn’t belong anywhere. 

You didn’t want to go home. 

There weren’t a lot of people in London you could call. A couple of months ago, Kristie was your go-to person for when your sister was tied up with her stuff, but with the baby on the way, Kristie’s sole focus had been shifted. You didn’t matter in comparison. Sam’s friends were like family, but they weren’t your family; they were people that had to like you because you lived with Sam and were with her all the time. You hadn’t made many friends at Chelsea; it didn’t seem important in retrospect. It left you with a handful of people. You could always call your mum or someone else in the family, but it seemed pointless in that there would be no outcome. So you called the only person that was really left. 

It had been a long shot; St Albans wasn’t exactly in close proximity to Cobham, but you felt like you were at a crossroads. 

You’d had to wait outside in the cold for a while, but it wasn’t awfully long until Caitlin pulled up in front of the training grounds. Before you could second-guess your decision-making, you got into her car, buckling your seatbelt before looking at her. 

“Just drive, I’ll exp   n later.”

Caitlin got the message and pulled her car into drive before heading back onto the highway. 

“Where we going? Yours? Mine? An airport?”

It was hard not to laugh at the predicament. 

“Just yours.”

The rest of the car ride was silent; it was good, it was hard for you to slot every feeling into place, but it was good to think about it all. You felt like a whirlwind of feelings, a big spiral of never-ending emotions that were completely nonsensical. 

By the time you get to Caitlin’s house, not much was making any more sense, but you felt less panicked. You walked from the car into her house in the same silence that had stretched between the two of you the whole car trip. In through the front door, into the kitchen, and sat down at the island when Caitlin pointed at one of the seats. You felt like you were cemented to the seat, all of the weight of the day, or really the last few weeks, was weighing you down like there were rocks stuffed in your pockets. You felt heavy, filled with all of the uncertainties. 

Caitlin pushed a glass of water towards you, and you took it gratefully. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?”

You’d been around Caitlin practically since birth. As a kid growing up, you hadn’t wanted to be around your sister; it had always been her best friend that had lit up your face. She was your sister’s best friend, but in every way, she was a sister to you; you’d spent every moment of your childhood following the two around and every waking moment with them when they were around. 

“I can’t just spend an afternoon with my favourite auntie?”

Caitlin rolled her eyes, reaching over the table to ruffle your hair. 

“Of course, you can, dickhead, but that doesn’t mean that you are. Something’s up, and if you called me, then that means you want to talk about it because it has something to do with Sam.”

Were you really that easy to read? First, Lucy, and now Caitlin. You were beginning to doubt your abilities to keep all of your cards to your chest. 

“That’s some creepy shit; you should become some mindreader.”

Caitlin rolled her eyes at you. 

“Tell me about it; I can’t do anything in this house without her sniffing it out.”

You turned your head to see Katie standing in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling at you, but mostly at Caitlin. 

“Ya didn’t tell me mini kerr was coming over.”

You tried to stop the way your face flinched at the sound of your last name. You didn’t know why in recent times it had begun to bother you so much. It was just so synonymous with your sister. Every time you heard it or saw it on your jersey, it was a clear sign of the one thing you were becoming most afraid of. You weren’t living up to it or living the life of it. 

“Just wanted to spend some time with my favourite derby losers.”

Katie’s reaction is visceral. Her face moves into something of pure disgust. 

“That kind of slander is just not acceptable in this house. You want to embrace your Chel-shit culture? Keep it away from our house. We’re going to have to sage the bad vibes away now. Do a full cleanse.”

At a point in your life, you’d never felt less Chelsea than you did right now. The thought of the club put you on the brink of dissociation. 

“Katie, can you please go get some pasta? We’re all out, and I’m making bolognese for dinner.”

It was a cue. You were sure of it because as soon as the words left Caitlin’s mouth, Katie was nodding dutifully and off and out of sight. 

“Are you going to tell me what’s up or keep dodging around it?”

With your lip between your teeth and so much uncertainty, you nodded. There wasn’t much point in keeping it all in when you’d come here with the inadvertent intention to offload some of it. 

“Sam doesn’t want anything to do with me. When I got here, it was hard. We made it work, and she tried to make me fit in with her life as it was, but it never quite felt right. But with the baby now, there’s no pretending. I’m not a part of her life, and she doesn’t want to pretend that I am anymore. And I’m sick of waiting in the background, hoping she’ll get her shit together and remember that I’m part of her life. She doesn’t care about me, and I can’t handle it anymore.”

Caitlin’s expressions are schooled. They are most of the time, but she doesn’t give anything at all away. 

“Your sister loves you a lot. I’m not invalidating what you’re feeling. I am sure that you’re right. She loves you though. Before you came here, all she ever talked about was wanting to spend more time with you, going back to see you, Facetiming you.”

You shake your head. You didn’t come here to be told that you’re loved. You came here to feel a little bit less chained down. 

“No, she doesn’t, or she doesn’t show it remotely. She doesn’t pick me up from school. She forgets me or stopped caring because she’s busy looking after Kristie or busy being worried about the baby, stressing about the baby. It’s all they talk about. It’s all they care about. It’s the shiny new toy, and I’m the old one at the back of the wardrobe that’s all broken and disgusting. I’m the last option. I’m the last option at Chelsea, the last option at home, the last option for everybody, and I can’t physically handle it. I’m done constantly being left on the fucking sidelines of life whilst everybody else plays.”

Caitlin nods. She listens. It’s what you need. You just need to feel listened to. 

“Your sister should be focusing more on you. She doesn’t realise that you didn’t move for independence like she did. When we moved for football for the first time, it was because we finally wanted independence. We wanted freedom. We wanted to feel like adults. You want to feel supported, want to feel like you’re a part of a family. You’re feeling that whilst your sister is simultaneously beginning to start her own family, and that’s scary. I would be scared by that if I were you. You’re seeing the cementation of new roots, and in your eyes, you don’t fit into the foundation that they’re building. There’s one thing that hasn’t changed about your sister since we were 18, and that is the fact that she’s a little bit unobservant. She doesn’t do small feelings. She does the big ones. She doesn’t understand the anxieties that you’re experiencing because she doesn’t experience them. Also, whether you want to admit it or not, I think you might be a little bit jealous of this baby. You didn’t get to spend your childhood with your sister. That was stripped from you when she moved away. This baby gets all the attention and all the love and doesn’t get left behind, and that’s tough.”

You are a little dumbstruck for words. It’s been hard to pinpoint all of your feelings, and yet Caitlin has just laid them all out in front of you.

“I’m not jealous of the fetus.”

Caitlin snorts, a proper snort that has you in fits of giggles. 

“Not even a little bit?” 

You shake your head defiantly. It’s easier to deny than admit it. 

“Because think about it. This time you’re like the older sister. That kid won’t want to be spending time with Kristie and Sam. It’ll be fawning over you from day one. Babies take a village. I know you feel on the outs right now, but when that baby comes, it’ll change.”

It’s easy to say that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, but in your opinion, there really isn’t. You can’t see any future where you feel any less of a misfit. 

“It’s not just Sam though. It’s everywhere. I don’t have friends, not at Chelsea. I’m my sister’s shadow, I always have been, but since the move, it’s been worse. I can’t make friends at school. I’m there purely to go to class, and I miss half of them anyways. Everyone at Chelsea sees me as my sister. I’m just an extension of her. Everything I do that is any good is because of her. Nobody can see past it.”

Caitlin didn’t have a quick answer for you. Your eyes burned with angry, hot tears. They were yet to spill, but they were on the brink, and it was impossible to ignore. 

“I can’t get away from my sister’s shadow, and it would be fine if I felt like I was a byproduct of her, if she spent every waking moment helping me be that way. But she hasn’t. It’s all been me. It’s been my hard work, my own push. Sure, she’s helped me into environments that have made me better, but it’s been my hard work. She hasn’t done shit, and yet all anybody says is that I’m good because of her, that I’m just a result of my sister’s influence. I’ll always be a shadow of her to everyone, even her.”

It’s a cathartic feeling. The tears slip down your face. You push and scratch at your cheeks, trying to remove the evidence, but it’s obvious. It’s ugly. It’s everything that’s been building. 

Caitlin doesn’t say anything. She just walks around the counter and gives you a big hug. 

“You are a lot more than your sister, and if people don’t recognise that, then you should be getting away from that, taking a break. You deserve to feel like your own person because you are.”

You don’t have anything left to say. You’ve laid it all out, and it feels good, but there isn’t any change. Venting is good, but when you’re going to go back to it all, it doesn’t truly matter. You’re stuck in the prison of your life, and there is no escaping. 

“I’m sure you’re exhausted. How about you go and take a nap before dinner? Refresh and let your mind rest, and we can regroup, okay? I promise you we can find a solution to some of this.”

You nod; you are feeling tired. It’s been hard to sleep at the apartment with Kristie constantly getting up during the night to hurl her guts. 

Caitlin’s guest room is warm, it’s nice, it’s virtually the same as your room at home, and yet it feels so much more welcoming. It doesn’t take you long to drift off. 

When you wake up, it’s very clear that quite a few hours have passed. Not only is it completely black, but the sleep in your eyes and fogginess in your head is enough of an indicator that what was going to be a quick nap had turned into something a lot longer. The edges of your vision are hazy and blurred as you blink your way back into consciousness. You don’t want to get up, not at all. It would be so much easier to just stay where you are, forever. Just stay lying in bed and warm and cozy, comfortable. You didn’t get to where you were today, though, by allowing yourself to be comfortable. 

So begrudgingly, you pulled yourself out of the bed, still dressed head to toe in a Chelsea tracksuit and hoodie. It really did feel illegal amongst all of the Arsenal memorabilia in every corner, and on every wall of the house, it only made you feel like more of a dichotomy. 

Your stomach began to rumble as you walked down the stairs to the kitchen. You were sure that you must have missed dinner but hoped that maybe something had been left aside to tide you over. 

You could hear murmurs coming from the kitchen, and in your state of half-awakeness, you’d put it down as being Caitlin and Katie. 

You were off guard, and that’s why you’d been more shocked than you thought possible when you walked into the kitchen and your sister was seated in the exact same place you’d been sat a couple of hours ago. Immediately, both Caitlin and your sister’s eyes were on you, them both seeming just as surprised as you. 

You were ready to bolt, but Caitlin’s voice stopped you.

“Your sister came to talk to you. She was worried when you weren’t home tonight for dinner.”

You roll your eyes, if you’d moved out a month ago Sam wouldn’t have noticed. 

“We haven’t had dinner together in months, don’t lie to my face. You called her, you fucking called her, I trsuted you with something and you called her.”

Sam looked like she was going to butt in but Caitlin stopped her. 

“Okay, yes I called her. Because I was worried but also mad and I wanted to fix that. I’m going to leave you two to sort this out.”

Caitlin started to walk towards you and out of the kitchen, you couldn’t help but clutch for her hand as she walked away. 

“It’s going to be fine. Trust me and listen to what she says and tell her how you feel. She came here to fix things, or start to fix things.”

Caitlin closes the kitchen door leaving just you and your sister alone with each other. 

“Just because we don’t have dinner together doesn’t mean I don’t notice when you’re done. Mum would kill me if I wasn’t keeping an eye on you and let her baby sneak out.”

It was the connotation of it all, Sam didn’t care, she was doing all of this for your mum. 

“I’m so sorry mum decided to burden you with my presence.”

Your sister exhales, like she’s trying to keep control, because she feels she has to. 

“That’s not what I meant. You matter just as much to me as you do to mum.”

Rich. Really rich coming from her. 

“Oh yeah, so that’s why mum calls me everyday to ask me about my day and how I’m doing and you just exist beside me. When was the last time you talked to me about anything besides football or the baby or Kristie? When was the last time you did anything with me that wasn’t related to football. When was the last time you asked me anything about my life or even acted like you cared?”

Sam exhales again, and breathes in like she’s trying to suck in every bit of oxygen in the room. 

“It’s not like that.”

You didn’t want to be angry about all of this, sad, disheartened, depressed. You could deal with that, but anger was so much harder. 

“Oh tell me how it is then. I know you didn’t ask to be looking after your teenage sister fulltime but you could at least pretend like my presence isn’t a complete burden to you. I fucking idolised you my whole childhood, when we had dress up days at school I would always dress up as you. I’ve always wanted to be you, and I was fine with everybody putting me into the box of Sam Kerr’s sister, I didn’t care, if anything it was the best feeling in the world. I didn’t care about being your shadow when you were my favourite person. But now that I’m here you’ve wrecked it all. You don’t have to tell me that I don’t fit into your picture perfect life, I’m well aware. I just didn’t expect you to treat me like fucking shit. I’m sick of it, I want to go home, I’d rather jeopardise my football career by going back then deal with anymore of this.”

Sam looks like she’s about to start crying and it feels good, you want her to feel what you are feeling, you want her to feel an inch of what you’ve been feeling for the past months. 

“You aren’t a burden to me. Not at all.”

You scoff, you aren’t a burden but she just opts to forget your existence, makes a lot of sense. 

“Okay so am I a ghost then? Do I have the ability to turn invisible and nobody has told me about it because you sure fucking act like I’m not here 95% of the time.”

Your sister stands up and starts to walk towards you and you immediately move. You don’t want touch or hugs or whatever she’s going to offer. 

“I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel that way. I’m really sorry.”

You really don’t know what to say to that. It’s a step forward but it doesn’t do anything, saying sorry is good and well but it doesn’t change an action. 

“I thought you came here for independence. God mum made it out like you were going to blow perth up if she didn’t get you out soon enough. I’ve wanted to be close to you since you were born, you were the light in all of our lives. Then you were here and I underestimated what it was going to be like but it was awesome and just having you in the house made it all so much better. Kristie and I had always wanted kids but having you around just made it seem like it would be the right fit, you have made our lives so much better. So, we started the process and it was all I could think about. I was your age when mum had you, I got to see you take your first steps and grow your first tooth and I thought it would be good for you to have the same experience. I just didn’t get how much time it would take up and how consumed with it I would get. You don’t deserve to feel this way, you don’t deserve to not feel cared for. I love you more than anybody else, I would put down anything for you, without a question. I haven’t made it seem that way recently but it’s true. You’re my priority, you always have been and you always will be. I don’t want you to go back home, having you here has been the best thing that has ever happened. I don’t know how i;m going to fix this but I’m going to. I’ll maker the changes, I’ll talk to Kristie, I’ll spend more time with you like I did before.”

So many feelings, so little words. 

“You don’t get me. I don’t want you to give up time, Kristie is the love of your life, this baby is going to be your kid. Your kid, not your sister, your kid. I don’t want you to detest me because I take away moments from your life.”

Sam shakes her head. 

“You are just as big a part of my life as anything else is. You fit into it all, if I haven’t amde you feel that way that is completely my fault.”

It’s nice to hear her say that, it’s nice to feel accepted even if it’s just for a second. 

“It’s not just that. I am literally your shadow. I don’t have any friends at Chelsea, everyone thinks I’m good because of you. Kerr is plastered everywhere and I’m just synonymous with all of your achievements. I don’t get to be me, the only difference is the different first name letter on our jerseys. I’m a good football player, because of me, not because of you. I’m sick of everyone telling me that I have a good right foot because my sister is Sam Kerr, or that I must have gotten my good defending skills from practicing with you. Everything has to be because of you, and I can’t handle it. I don’t have any friends that aren’t yours, my life is a by product of yours and I’m done with it being that way.”

This time when Sam takes a step towards you, you don’t immediately step away. Her presence doesn’t bother you, it’s the look on her face. 

“Okay, we can fix that. You want to quit? Move clubs? Go on Loan? I can talk to everyone at the club and make changes. Wew can change jerseys, you can have your first name and not last name. You should spend some extra time with the younger girls, stop feeling restricted by what I do and don’t do and just live your life. I’ll tell everuone how much of a fuckup I am and how you are skilled because of you. Whatever you want, I am here to support it. I haven’t done that enough recently and it needs to change, I want to make you my complete priority. No more forgetting you because I’m being selfish and only thinking about myself. My asshat behaviour ends now, I promise. What do you want, I will try my hardest to help you get it. I can call our agent right now and you can be playing in a different country.”

You shake your head, a small smile working it’s way to the corners of your mouth at your sisters franticness. 

“I don’t know, I have no fucking clue what I want. I just want you to know, I want help, I want to not feel like shit everyday just because of who I am.”

Sam nods, and reaches out for you. The hug is easy, it’s cathartic, you feel so much pressure releasing from your body as her arms tighten around you. 

“Okay, I can do that. We can do that. You and me yeah, you and me against the world.”

It’s not even close to fixed, your life hasn’t changed. But the overall weight, the soul crushing pressure of it all fades. You don’t trust, you don’t trust her to make changes. She hasn’t earnt that trust but you hope, you fucking hope that maybe something is going to happen. 

[delulujuls]

his eyes | mv33

hi! you asked about part two for the mad dutchman and the fearless dutchess so i delivered (its still hot, fresh from the oven). i'm not sure if i like it but don't worry, for sure i will write something about the mad dutch duo in the future. but now enjoy this one!

summary: eyes can say a lot so where it comes to reveal feelings there is no place to hide

warnings: none, mentions of car accident

pairing: fem!redbulldriver x max verstappen

Max's eyes were beautiful.

They were always beautiful when they had small wrinkles around them caused by smiling. Always then, they were the color of a cloudless sky on a warm july morning. They were beautiful even when there was a storm raging inside. They were dark and agitated then, but still beautiful. But they were beautiful in a terrifying way, because at that moment there was no trace of a smile on Max's face, and the only warmth was the rage burning in his veins.

Y/N could have sworn she had never met another pair of eyes like Max's, so whenever she could, she allowed herself to drown in them. Even during arguments, when they were shouting and calling each other names, his eyes were beautiful. However, they lost all their beauty when they were struck by fear.

When Max was scared, his eyes faded. The july sky was covered with clouds and the turbulent sea was shrouded in fog. Y/N stopped noticing the fear in Max's eyes when he managed to break free from his toxic father and their karting years ended, replaced by Formula 1.

However, on that day when she woke up in the ambulance, the first thing she encountered was the cloudy sky in his eyes. Max wasn't scared; he was terrified to the core. When, after a few seconds, his brain acknowledged that his friend was alive, he sighed with relief. The sky began to clear.

"I never thought I'd be so happy to see those deceitful eyes of yours."

Verstappen smiled, squeezing his friend's hand.

"What happened?"

She asked with difficulty. Her throat hurt terribly; the hot smoke and fumes had taken their toll.

"You had an accident and lost consciousness. We'll be at the hospital soon."

"Accident is an understatement," a paramedic interjected, removing her drip from the hanger "You did a Grosjean from Bahrain 2020."

Y/N blinked several times and it took her a moment to connect the dots. Judging by the man's comparison, her accident must have been truly unpleasant.

"How's the car?"

"Just needs a wipe."

She rolled her eyes at her friend's words, and a moment later, she coughed. Quickly, she put her oxygen mask back on.

"Don't worry about the car," Max said, still holding her hand. "The most important thing is that you're back with us."

"At what cost? At least, being unconscious spared me from looking at you."

She replied sarcastically, pulling the mask slightly away from her face. Max chuckled quietly at her words, relieved that she still had the strength to joke after everything. She returned his smile. She still didn't fully grasp what had happened or what she had been involved in, but the feeling inside her body told her it must have looked bad. The last time she saw fear in Max's eyes was years ago.

But something had changed after that. Since her accident, she noticed that Max's eyes looked at her differently. In a way she had never seen before, a way she couldn't compare to anything else. They looked at her with unimaginable gentleness and tenderness. They looked at her with love.

"You're damn stubborn, you know that?"

Max said when barely two weeks after the accident Y/N, using crutches, appeared in his garage. He didn't say it maliciously; he was just genuinely worried. He put down his water bottle and approached his friend, gently hugging her and pulling up a chair for her.

"I'm glad to see you too."

She replied, leaning her crutches against the chair and sitting on the workbench.

Max sighed and shook his head. Since the accident, Y/N had been a constant source of concern for him.

"What?" she asked, glancing at him, "I'm not getting into the car, don't worry."

"You should be resting."

"I am resting, see?" Y/N pointed to her makeshift seat, "More comfortable than a bed."

Max was about to reply, but he was called to take his place in the car. Friends exchanged glances one last time and as he left the garage, Y/N hopped off the bench and approached Christian's workstation, taking a seat next to him. He smiled at her and handed her headphones.

"Good to see you, Y/N."

"Some would prefer me not to be here."

She replied, glancing at the monitor. Christian smiled at the thought of Max, who was very concerned about his friend.

"He was really worried about you, like we all were."

"I guess I'm just not used to Verstappen seeing more than the tip of his own nose."

The man laughed at her words. She was absolutely right; Max's reputation could be unpredictable. However, lately, his behavior had changed noticeably, evident to everyone in the paddock.

When the training session ended, friends returned to the hotel. Max kept pace with Y/N, ready to catch her if she stumbled. Moving on crutches wasn't problematic for her, though.

"Don't look at me like I'm an eighty-year-old grandma."

She said, seeing his gaze as they reached her room and she plopped onto the bed with a heavy sigh.

"I'm not looking at you like that. We both know that you are slower than this only in a car."

Y/N grabbed a pillow and threw it at him and he laughed, effortlessly catching it. They looked at each other for a moment in silence, but Y/N lowered her gaze when she noticed his eyes doing it again. Looking at her in that way.

"Christian said you were worried" the girl said, after a moment gathering enough courage to look at him again, "Really?"

"I thought I was pulling a corpse out of that wreck. Of course I was worried."

She lowered her gaze again, focusing on her hands. Max squeezed the pillow in his hands and sat next to her.

"Thank you."

She said softly. Even though she had thanked him earlier, she knew that no amount of gratitude would match the level of his deed. She turned her head towards him and their gazes met again. He smiled.

"I knew you'd do the same. You've always got my back, no matter how angry you are with me."

Y/N snorted and nodded. Max was absolutely right. Although some time had passed since the accident, they hadn't had a chance to talk about it. Not about the accident itself, but about what changed between them. Because something definitely had changed.

"Can I ask you something?"

She spoke up, glancing at him. He nodded.

"Did what happened change anything between us?"

"What do you mean?"

Max tensed a bit. Although he didn't move an inch, after so many years spent together, you could pick up every detail.

"You're behaving differently toward me."

She explained. He looked at her attentively.

"You're more affectionate. I've never felt something like that from you before."

Max lowered his head and interlaced his fingers. He wasn't sure how to put into words what had been swirling in his head for some time and growing stronger with each passing day. So, he decided to go for honesty.

"When I was pulling you out of the car, I had no idea if you were alive. Riding in the ambulance, I wondered if I would ever be able to talk to you again and apologize for that senseless argument."

He took a deep breath and rubbed his face with his hands.

"When you woke up and looked at me, I thought I'd cry with happiness. That's when I realized how much you mean to me and how important you are."

Y/N stayed silent, trying to absorb all the words he had spoken. She could feel the emotions quickening her pulse, so she decided to lighten the mood a bit and probe whether they were on the same page.

"If you had kissed me, I probably would have woken up faster."

Max felt as if someone had poured a bucket of cold water on him. He blinked several times and looked at his friend. She just smiled slightly.

"Kissed?"

She nodded.

For a moment, Max struggled to open his mouth to say something, but to no avail. He was in too much shock.

"Are you setting me up now?"

"I'm not setting you up, Max."

"Yes, like if I had kissed you back then, you would have woken up faster. But only to punch me in the face."

She laughed and fell back on the pillows, pretending to be dead.

"You have to check it yourself."

Max wondered for a moment if she was joking, but he didn't have time for further contemplation. She grabbed his shirt and pulled him toward her. He leaned on his elbow next to her head and looked at her face. Her gaze and a faint smile indicated that it wasn't just a silly joke.

Without hesitation, Max lightly touched her cheek and kissed her. She smiled and hugged him around the neck, returning the kiss.

When they separated for a moment to catch their breath, the eyes of the two met again and Y/N once again allowed herself to drown in the boundless blue of his eyes. The turbulent sea was calm and the july, sunny sky was cloudless. Everything was fine.

Everything was just how it supposed to be.

[gardenladysworld]

Starbound hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Aged up characters!

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031, @redflashoftheleaf, @nikipuppeteer

Part 12: To feel

Well here we are ∠( ᐛ 」∠)_

This chapter is tooooo long (．．;)

Part 13: To kiss

The lab hummed softly with the familiar rhythm of its machines, the faint glow of bioluminescent samples casting a surreal light across the room. The ulo’ateya samples sat carefully preserved in a sealed container, their faint blue petals still as mesmerizing as the first time you saw them. The air smelled faintly sterile, with an undercurrent of earthy sweetness from the flower samples. A datapad lay in front of you, filled with columns of results and observations, the culmination of twelve days worth of work. Exhaustion pulled at your body like lead, but there was a satisfaction in the weight—a sense of accomplishment from finally reaching the breakthrough you’d been chasing with the xenobotany team.

Still, it wasn’t enough to drown out the gnawing ache in your chest.

You hadn’t left the lab since Neteyam had brought you the samples almost two weeks ago. There had been no time—not with the ulo’ateya’s delicate properties requiring constant monitoring and the endless list of tests that had to be run before the flowers began to degrade. You and the team had worked tirelessly, alternating shifts, but you had thrown yourself into the work with single-minded determination.

It was easier this way—easier to focus on the science, the numbers, and the data than to let your thoughts wander to him.

But now, as the lab quieted in the late hours of the night and the final stages of the tests were complete, there was no more distraction. The hum of the machines seemed louder, the silence of the room heavier. You leaned back in your chair, rubbing your temples as you stared at the glowing petals inside the container.

You missed him.

You hated admitting it, even to yourself. It felt silly, almost childish, to feel this way. But the truth was inescapable: you missed the warmth of his presence, the steadiness he brought with him wherever he went. You missed the way his burning golden eyes seemed to see through all the walls you put up, the way his voice, low and calm, could make even the most overwhelming moments feel manageable.

You hadn’t realized how much you had come to rely on him—not just for the comfort he offered, but for the way he made you feel seen. In a world where you were constantly reminded of your humanity, of your fragility, Neteyam had a way of making you feel like you belonged. Like you were more than just a scientist cataloging plants in a world that wasn’t yours.

The memory of his visit twelve days ago lingered vividly in your mind. He’d stood tall and quiet, his ikran waiting just beyond the outpost as he handed over the samples. You’d been so caught up in the excitement of the moment, so focused on the ulo’ateya and the importance of the research, that you hadn’t realized how much his presence had meant until he was gone.

Even now, you could recall the way his hands had brushed against yours as he passed you the satchel. The warmth of his skin had lingered, brief but electric. And then there was the way he’d looked at you—soft, steady, with a depth you couldn’t quite name. It had made your heart ache in a way that was both exhilarating and terrifying.

You leaned forward, resting your elbows on the counter as you buried your face in your hands. Get it together, you thought, scolding yourself. He was just being kind, just helping with the research. You were friends, nothing more. And yet, every time you thought of him, your chest tightened with a longing you couldn’t ignore.

The rational part of your mind tried to dismiss it. He was Na’vi—a future olo’eyktan, no less. He belonged to a world you could never fully be a part of, no matter how much you tried to understand it. And you? You were just a human, a visitor, a scientist cataloging a world that didn’t belong to you. What right did you have to feel this way about him?

Your fingers stilled over the edge of the counter, your thoughts spiraling. Why did you miss him so much? It wasn’t as though you hadn’t spent time apart before. You didn’t even see each other that often—only when your work took you to the clan or when he happened to be near the outpost. And yet, the absence of his presence felt like a hollow space in your chest, one you couldn’t seem to fill no matter how hard you tried.

You’re being ridiculous, you scolded yourself, picking up the datapad again. He’s probably busy with his own life, his own responsibilities. He’s not sitting around thinking about you.

But the thought only made the ache worse. What if he wasn’t thinking about you? What if you were just another human to him, another alien who didn’t belong? The idea made your chest tighten, and you pushed it away, focusing instead on the glowing data in front of you.

But even as you worked, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. To the way his tail flicked when he was amused, the way his ears twitched when he was deep in thought. To the way he had looked at you that night, his gaze soft and steady, like you were something precious. To his blue skin, which shimmered so perfectly in the sunlight, it was impossible to take your eyes off him.

Stop it, you told yourself firmly. You’re being ridiculous, you told yourself, shaking your head. But even as you tried to push the thoughts away, you couldn’t help but wonder. Did he think about you at all, or had you simply been another task, another responsibility on his long list of duties?

You sighed, leaning back in your chair as your eyes drifted to the tiny window. The forest outside was alive with its usual bioluminescent glow, the vibrant blues, purples, and greens shifting like a living, breathing entity. It was beautiful, mesmerizing, but it only made the ache in your chest sharper.

Twelve days without seeing him, and you felt like a part of you had gone quiet. You had buried yourself in your work, trying to convince yourself it didn’t matter, that the research was what truly mattered. But now, with the tests almost completed and the room still, there was no escaping the truth.

You missed him. You missed him more than you should.

And the thought terrified you.

The late afternoon sun filtered through the canopy of the forest, its warm rays casting dancing patterns of light and shadow across the Sully family kelku. Neteyam sat near the entrance, sharpening his blade with slow, deliberate movements. The rhythmic sound of the stone against metal should have been soothing, but it only underscored the quiet storm brewing in his chest.

It had been almost two weeks since he’d last seen you.

The memory of your wide smile as he handed you the ulo’ateya samples still lingered, etched vividly in his mind. He’d flown back to the village that night feeling lighter than he had in weeks, as though the very act of helping you had lifted a weight from his chest. But now, the days without you had stretched endlessly, and he couldn’t shake the hollow ache that had taken up residence in his chest.

He told himself he shouldn’t feel this way. You were busy—he knew that. You had been working tirelessly on your research, dedicating every waking moment to analyzing the delicate properties of the ulo’ateya. It was important work, critical even as you said, and he admired you for it. But still, the absence of your presence gnawed at him in a way he couldn’t explain. Or maybe he just didn’t want to.

“Still sharpening that thing?” Lo’ak’s voice broke through his thoughts, teasing and light. Neteyam glanced up to see his younger brother leaning casually against one of the woven walls, his arms crossed and a grin tugging at his lips. “You’re going to wear it down to a toothpick if you keep that up.”

Neteyam didn’t respond, turning his attention back to the blade with a sigh. But Lo’ak wasn’t one to let things drop so easily.

“You’ve been like this all week,” Lo’ak continued, stepping closer. “All quiet and broody. What’s going on, bro? You miss your sky girl?”

Neteyam’s grip on the blade tightened, his ears flicking back in annoyance. “Lo’ak,” he warned, his tone low and even.

But Lo’ak, ever the instigator, only laughed. “Oh, come on. Don’t act like it’s not true.”

Kiri appeared with Tuk then, her sharp eyes narrowing as she took in the scene. She crossed her arms, her expression somewhere between exasperated and amused. “Lo’ak, stop being an idiot,” she said, though her tone held little bite. She turned to Neteyam, tilting her head thoughtfully. “But he’s not wrong, you know. You’ve been... different.”

“I’m fine,” Neteyam said quickly, perhaps too quickly, as he set the blade down with more force than necessary.

Neteyam hesitated, his shoulders tensing as he looked away. “She’s busy,” he said finally, his voice quieter. “I don’t want to disturb her.”

Kiri crouched beside him, her expression gentle but knowing. “She’s always busy, Neteyam. But that doesn’t mean she wouldn’t want to see you. She’s still in the lab, you know,” Kiri said suddenly, breaking the silence. Her voice was casual, but there was a pointed edge to her words. “Working herself to death over that flower you got her.”

Neteyam’s hands stilled on the blade as he touched it again, his ears flicking toward her. “She’s dedicated to her work,” he said simply, though his voice lacked its usual steadiness.

Kiri raised an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a small, knowing smile. “You mean she’s been locked away for over two weeks, and you haven’t gone to check on her?”

Lo’ak’s laughter erupted from across the room. “Of course he hasn’t. Big bro’s too scared to admit he misses her.”

Neteyam shot him a sharp look, his tail twitching in irritation. “I’ve been busy too,” he said curtly, though even he knew the excuse sounded hollow.

“Busy brooding,” Lo’ak retorted, smirking as he leaned back against the wall. “You’ve been moping around here like someone stole your ikran. Just go see her already.”

“She hasn’t come to the village,” he pointed out, his tone defensive. “If she wanted to see me, she would have.”

“Maybe she thinks the same thing about you,” Kiri said, her words cutting through his defenses like a blade. “Maybe she’s telling herself that you’re too busy or that you don’t want to be disturbed.”

Neteyam’s gaze dropped to the blade in his hands, his thoughts a tangled mess of hope and fear. The idea of seeing you again, of hearing your voice and feeling your presence, was almost enough to drown out the doubt. Almost.

Lo’ak laughed, nudging him with his elbow. “Face it, Neteyam, you’re scared to see her.”

“I am not scared,” Neteyam replied sharply, though his ears twitched in a way that betrayed his discomfort.

Kiri smirked, sitting down across from him. “You are. You think if you go to her, you’ll interrupt her work. But really, you’re just afraid to admit how much you want to see her.”

Neteyam opened his mouth to respond, but Tuk cut him off with a pout. “Why can’t you just visit her? You always tell me to check on my friends when I miss them.”

The simplicity of Tuk’s words struck him harder than he cared to admit. She was right—why couldn’t he? What was stopping him from walking to the lab and simply checking in on you? It wasn’t as though he needed an excuse; he could easily say he wanted to ensure the ulo’ateya samples were still intact. And yet, the thought of seeing you again, of standing in your presence, made his heart race in a way that left him feeling exposed.

“She doesn’t need me bothering her,” Neteyam said finally, though the words felt hollow even to him.

Kiri raised an eyebrow, leaning forward. “Neteyam, she’s been locked in that lab for two weeks. Do you really think she wouldn’t want a break? To see a friendly face?”

Lo’ak grinned. “A very friendly face.”

Neteyam shot him a glare, but Lo’ak just laughed, unbothered by the warning. “Look,” Kiri continued, her tone softening. “She cares about you. And I think you know that. So stop making excuses and go see her.”

He hesitated, his gaze dropping to the ground as doubt gnawed at him. Did you care about him? Or were you simply kind to everyone? He had spent countless nights replaying your interactions, searching for signs that you might feel even a fraction of what he felt for you. But every time he thought he saw something—a lingering look, a soft laugh, the way you leaned closer when you spoke to him—he dismissed it as wishful thinking.

What if he went to you and disrupted your work? What if you saw him as nothing more than an obligation, another task on your endless list of things to manage? The thought made his chest tighten, and yet...

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. About the way your eyes lit up when you explained your research, your hands moving animatedly as you described the plants and their properties. About the way your voice softened when you thanked him for bringing you the ulo’ateya, as though he had done something extraordinary just by helping you. About your touch—the warmth of your hand around his fingers, the way you had clung to him like he was the only thing anchoring you in that moment.

The memory sent a rush of warmth through him, and he clenched his jaw, trying to steady his racing thoughts. He wanted to see you. Needed to see you. And maybe, just maybe, it was worth the risk.

Lo’ak clapped him on the back, grinning. “Go on, bro. She’s probably waiting for you.”

Neteyam shook his head, though a faint smile tugged at his lips. “You’re insufferable,” he muttered.

Kiri smirked, standing as she dusted off her hands. “We’re just giving you a nudge in the right direction.”

Tuk beamed, hugging Neteyam’s arm. “Tell her I miss her too!”

He sighed, standing as he ruffled Tuk’s hair. “I’ll see what I can do.”

He wanted to see you. To hear your voice, to feel the warmth of your presence, to remind himself that the connection he felt wasn’t just something he had imagined. And maybe, if Eywa willed it, to finally find the courage to tell you the truth.

The lab glowed faintly against the night, its artificial light a stark contrast to the natural, soothing luminescence of Pandora’s forest. Neteyam approached quietly, his steps light on the damp ground, though the forest's familiar hum muffled his movement. He had flown here with Tawkami’s speed cutting through the night air, but now that he stood just outside the of the outpost, his nerves began to tug at him.

Neteyam’s fingers tightened into a fist as he debated whether to go inside. What if she was too tired to see him? What if she thought he was intruding? He missed you—missed the way your smile could brighten even the darkest day, missed the way your voice carried a warmth that made him feel like he belonged. He couldn’t stay outside, not when you were right there. His tail flicked behind him, betraying his unease. His siblings’ words echoed in his mind—Lo’ak’s teasing, Tuk’s innocent plea, Kiri’s pointed encouragement. They were right, he realized. He couldn’t keep avoiding you, couldn’t keep pretending that he didn’t miss you more with each passing day.

You had already shown him how to open the gate a few times, and although he had nodded each time to acknowledge it, now he stood there in front of the tiny buttons as if they were the biggest obstacle in the world. Your tiny hands moved the buttons on the panel with great ease, but as he tried, it was almost comical. His big fingers could barely press the right numbers, in the right order, and he became frustrated. Behind him, his tail moved nervously to side to side. When he successfully entered the first airgate, he waited quietly while the system filled the small room with air intended for humans. He felt the oxygen-rich air tighten his lungs and reached for the Na’vi sized exo-mask on one of the walls, next to it was a small sticker, on which you had written his name 'Neteyam'.

He smiled.

He hung the mask around his neck. Although he had been able to breathe the outpost air for more than an hour, You were always calmer when you saw the mask around his neck. Too many things made you nervous, he didn't want to be one of the many problems. When the second door opened, he entered the lab with his head slightly bowed.

The sound broke the stillness inside, and your head snapped up, your wide eyes locking onto him. For a brief moment, surprise flickered across your face, but it was quickly replaced by something softer—something that made his chest tighten.

“Neteyam?” you asked, your voice laced with both surprise and curiosity. “What are you doing here?”

The way you said his name sent a quiet thrill through him, though he kept his expression neutral. He stepped inside, letting the door close behind him, and took in the lab. It was cluttered with samples and tools, datapads stacked precariously on one corner of the table. The faint hum of machinery filled the air, but it was your presence that made the room feel alive.

He walked further slightly bent down into the room, the door hissing shut behind him. The scent of the lab filled his senses—sterile and metallic, but tinged with the faint sweetness of the ulo’ateya. Your scent, however, was unmistakable, cutting through it all and grounding him in the moment.

“I...” His voice faltered as he searched for the right words as he walked closer to you, just to crouch down next to your table. Why was this so difficult? He’d faced dangerous predators, led hunts, and carried the weight of his clan’s expectations. Yet here, standing before you, he felt unsteady, as though the ground beneath him had shifted.

“I wanted to see how your work was going,” he said finally, his voice quiet but steady. It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the whole truth either.

You blinked at him, your expression unreadable for a moment before softening. “You came all the way here just to check on my work?”

Your tone was polite, your curiosity genuine, but there was a hint of something else—a warmth that made his heart race. He nodded, his hands fidgeting slightly at his sides. “It has been... some time,” he admitted, his golden eyes meeting yours. “I wanted to make sure you were... well.”

Your lips curved into a small, tired smile, and he felt his pulse quicken. “I’m fine,” you said, though the dark circles under your eyes told a different story. “Just... busy. The tests have been taking longer than expected.”

He took another step closer, his gaze flicking to the cluttered workspace around you. “You should rest,” he said, his voice gentle but firm. “You look... tired.”

You laughed softly, the sound sending a ripple of warmth through him. “That’s what Kate keeps telling me,” you said, shaking your head. “But there’s still so much to do. The ulo’ateya is more complex than we thought.”

“You work too much,” he said gently, stepping closer. “Even Eywa’s gifts need rest to flourish.”

Your smile widened slightly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “I could say the same about you, Neteyam. You’re always doing something for your people.”

He tilted his head, his ears flicking as he considered your words. “That is different,” he said after a moment. “My work is my duty. This... this is your passion.”

You laughed softly, the sound light but tinged with weariness. “Sometimes it feels like both.”

“I am here,” he said simply, the words carrying more weight than he intended. “If you ever need me.”

Your eyes met his again, and for a fleeting moment, he thought he saw something there—something that mirrored the longing he felt in his own chest. But just as quickly, you looked away, your walls sliding back into place.

“I appreciate that, Neteyam,” you said, your voice steady but tinged with something softer. “Really, I do.”

He nodded, his heart heavy with unspoken words. For now, this was enough. Just being here, seeing you, knowing you were safe—it was enough. But as he watched you turn back to your work, he couldn’t help but wonder how much longer he could keep his feelings locked away.

He moved with his usual grace, his steps almost soundless despite his size. As he approached, you felt a familiar flutter in my chest, the same one you always tried—and failed—to suppress around him. You turned toward the workbench, focusing on the ulo’ateya samples to distract yourself.

“The ulo’ateya is fascinating,” You began, the excitement in your voice genuine. “Its glow isn’t just for pollination. It actually has trace amounts of compounds that seem to act as a natural attractant to certain nocturnal species. Look here—” you pointed to one of the glowing samples under a microscope. “You can see how the cells change structure depending on the time of day. It’s almost like it knows when it’s supposed to bloom.”

Neteyam leaned in slightly, his gaze following your gestures. You could feel his presence beside you, his warmth radiating like a quiet comfort. But when you glanced up at him, his attention wasn’t on the flower. He was looking at you, his golden eyes soft and unguarded in a way that made your breath catch.

“What?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

He blinked, as though snapped out of a trance, and a faint flush colored his cheeks. “Nothing,” he said quickly, his gaze shifting back to the sample. “It’s... interesting.”

A small laugh escaped you, and you shook your head. “You don’t have to pretend to care about the science,” you teased lightly. “I know it’s not exactly exciting for most people.”

His ears twitched, and his tail gave a slow, lazy flick. “I do care,” he said, his tone earnest. “It’s important to you. That makes it... worth understanding.”

The warmth in his voice made something in your chest tighten, and you looked away quickly, pretending to adjust a nearby sample. Why did he have to say things like that? Why did he have to make me feel like I was something more than just a human scientist—like I was important?

Something about the way he said it made your heart flutter, but you quickly pushed the feeling aside, focusing instead on the science. You launched into an explanation, pointing out the unique structure of the petals, the way they glowed faintly even without bioluminescent cues, the unexpected results the team’d found in their chemical composition.

“They’re unlike anything we’ve studied before,” you said, you voice gaining momentum as you shared your excitement. “Their pollination process is so specific, it’s like they’ve evolved to rely on one single species to survive. And their glow—it’s not just for attraction; it’s a survival mechanism, too. Isn’t that incredible?”

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours as you spoke. “It is,” he said simply, but there was something in his tone—an unwavering focus, a quiet intensity—that made you feel as though he wasn’t just talking about the flowers.

As you continued, you noticed the way his gaze softened whenever you smiled, the subtle flick of his tail behind him as he listened. It was... grounding, the way he gave you his full attention, as though your words mattered more than anything else in the world. And yet, it also made you nervous, made your hands fidget and your thoughts stumble.

Finally, when you’d run out of words, you stepped back, crossing your arms loosely over your chest. “Sorry,” you said with a self-deprecating laugh. “I’m rambling. I’ve just been so focused on this project, you think I’ve forgotten how to talk about anything else.”

Neteyam tilted his head slightly, his ears flicking in a way you’d come to recognize as curiosity. “You do not need to apologize,” he said softly. “It is clear this work is important to you. Your passion is... admirable.”

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, and you quickly looked away, pretending to adjust one of the sample trays. “Thanks,” you said quietly. “It’s just... been a lot. Long hours, endless tests. I haven’t even had time to think about anything else, let alone bother anyone.”

As soon as the words left your mouth, you regretted them. You hadn’t meant it that way, but the flicker of something in his eyes—a shadow of doubt, maybe—made your chest tighten. He straightened slightly, his tail slowing its sway, and the air between you seemed to shift.

“You think you would be a bother?” he asked after a moment, his voice low and measured.

You hesitated, suddenly unsure of what to say. “No, I mean... I just didn’t want to impose on anyone,” you said quickly, your words tumbling over themselves. “Everyone’s busy, you know? And I didn’t want to... distract you.”

His gaze darkened slightly, though his expression remained calm. “You would not distract me,” he said quietly, his tone carrying a weight that made your breath catch. “You could never be a bother.”

You blinked at him, his words settling over you like a blanket you weren’t sure you deserved. There was a quiet conviction in his voice, a sincerity that made it hard to meet his gaze. You could feel your heart pounding, the air between you thick with something unspoken, something you weren’t sure you were ready to name.

“Neteyam...” you began, you voice barely above a whisper, but you didn’t know how to finish. How could I tell him how much his presence meant, how much I had missed him, without risking everything? How could I put into words the ache I felt whenever he wasn’t near, the way my chest tightened whenever he looked at me like this—like I was something more than I believed myself to be?

But he didn’t press you. He simply watched you, his golden eyes searching yours as though he could see the storm of thoughts swirling in your head. And in that moment, you realized something: he wasn’t just listening to your words. He was listening to everything you weren’t saying, everything you were too afraid to admit.

Neteyam's mood had shifted, though you couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment it happened. One moment, he had been listening intently, his golden eyes locked on yours, his entire posture relaxed yet focused. Then, it was like a curtain had fallen—a subtle stiffness in his shoulders, the faintest dip in his tail’s lazy sway. His ears, which had been alert and slightly forward, now flicked back ever so slightly, betraying a hesitance you couldn’t ignore.

You tried to ignore the pang in your chest. Maybe he was just tired. After all, he’d come all this way, and here you were, rambling on about pollination cycles and chemical compositions like he hadn’t just completed an extraordinary task for you weeks ago. Was I boring him? Or worse, had he come here out of some sense of politeness rather than because he wanted to see me?

Had I said something wrong?

You felt a familiar tightness bloom in your chest, a mix of uncertainty and frustration. He had shown up here unannounced, pulling you out of your weeks-long isolation with a quiet strength that you’d missed more than you’d realized. And yet, now that he was here, he seemed... distant, almost hesitant. Had he come out of politeness? Out of some sense of obligation? The thought twisted painfully in your stomach.

Why did he even come if he doesn’t want to be here?

The question lingered, unspoken but insistent, as you tried to gauge his thoughts. But Neteyam, as always, was difficult to read. His expression was calm, his posture composed, but you’d learned enough about him in the time you’d spent together to see the cracks beneath the surface. The tension in his shoulders, the slight downward tilt of his ears—he wasn’t entirely at ease.

Your gaze flicked to his tail again—it twitched once, a sharp, nervous flick that told me more than his carefully controlled expression ever could. You bit back a smile. For all his stoicism, Neteyam’s tail and ears betrayed his emotions far more than he probably realized. Over the past year, you’d become an expert at reading them, almost as if they spoke a language of their own.

He’s uncomfortable, you realized, though you couldn’t tell if it was something you’d said or something else entirely. Your heart sank at the thought. He doesn’t have to be here. He chose to come, didn’t he? Unless... unless he felt obligated, like this was just another responsibility to shoulder, another task on his endless list.

The idea frustrated you more than you wanted to admit. You didn’t want him here out of duty— you wanted him here because he wanted to be, because he missed you the way you missed him. But maybe that was asking too much.

Still, you couldn’t let the mood sour like this. If he was uncomfortable, you wanted to fix it. And if you couldn’t, at least you could lighten the atmosphere, even just a little. Your eyes lingered on his tail again as he still crouched maddeningly close to you, which had given another quick flick, and a small, knowing smile tugged at your lips.

“Neteyam,” you said, tilting your head slightly as you looked at him. “You know, for someone so composed, your tail has a lot to say.”

His ears perked forward sharply, then flicked back again, and you had to suppress a laugh. “What do you mean?” he asked, his voice steady, but you caught the faintest hint of a waver.

You shrugged, feigning innocence. “Oh, nothing. Just that it twitches when you’re nervous. Or when you’re hiding something.”

His tail stilled immediately, as if he’d ordered it to behave, but the corners of your smile widened anyway. You crossed your arms, leaning against the edge of the counter as you raised an eyebrow at him. “And your ears, too,” you added, nodding toward them. “They flick back when you’re unsure. And forward when you’re curious.”

Neteyam blinked at you, his expression shifting from surprise to something you couldn’t quite place—embarrassment, maybe? His ears twitched again, this time with a sharp, almost guilty movement, and you couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled out of you.

“I’m not sure if I should be flattered or alarmed,” he said finally, his voice lower than usual, though there was a hint of warmth in it. For a moment, he just stared at you, as though trying to decide whether to deny it or deflect. Then, almost imperceptibly, his tail swished behind him—a sharp, embarrassed flick that made you bite back another smile. “I... did not realize it was so obvious,” he said finally, his voice quieter now, as though he were speaking more to himself than to you. His ears pinned back slightly, and though he kept his expression composed, the faint flush that crept up his cheeks betrayed him.

“It’s not that obvious,” you teased gently, unable to stop yourself. “You just forget that I’ve spent enough time around you to notice these things.”

His gaze shifted back to yours, and for a moment, you thought he might argue. But instead, he looked away again, his ears flicking uncertainly as his tail gave another embarrassed twitch. The sight was so uncharacteristically vulnerable, so completely at odds with the calm, confident warrior you’d grown used to, that it made you heart ache.

“Don’t worry,” you said softly, trying to reassure him even as warmth spread through you. “It’s not a bad thing. I just... I think it’s kind of endearing.”

His gaze snapped back to yours, his eyes wide with something you couldn’t quite name. “Endearing?” he repeated, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nodded, your smile softening. “Yeah. It’s... nice. Knowing I can read you like that.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything. The hum of the lab filled the silence, punctuated only by the soft rustling of the leaves outside. You felt exposed, like you’d said too much, but you didn’t regret it. Not entirely. Because even if he didn’t feel the same way, even if he was here out of politeness and nothing more, you wanted him to know that you saw him—not just the stoic warrior but the person beneath it all.

And if that made things a little awkward, well... maybe it was worth it.

The glow of the datapad reflected off the sharp angles of his jaw as he leaned closer to look at the screen. You pointed to one of the charts, trying to focus on the data and not the fact that he was close enough for you to catch the faint, earthy scent of the forest that clung to him.

“The ulo’ateya’s pollen seems to fluoresce under specific wavelengths,” you said, your voice a little steadier than you felt. “It’s reacting to the enzymes in the substrate we used here.” you tapped on the datapad, scrolling through the data, trying to sound composed, but your thoughts were anything but.

Why does he have to lean so close? I can barely think when he’s this near.

You shifted slightly, turning the datapad toward him so he could see the chart better. Your fingers brushed against his as you moved it, just for a second, but the contact sent a jolt through you like you’d been struck by lightning. Your hand froze, still resting lightly against his, the warmth of his skin stark against your cooler fingers.

For a moment, everything stopped. The hum of the lab’s equipment faded into the background, and all you could focus on was the connection between you—small, accidental, but charged with something you didn’t have the words to describe. His hand didn’t pull away, and neither did yours. Your breath hitched, caught in your throat as your heart pounded in your chest, loud enough that you were sure he could hear it.

I should move. I should say something. Why am I just sitting here like an idiot?

Slowly, you glanced up, your eyes meeting his. His golden gaze was wide, startled, but there was something else there, too—something unspoken and intense that made your chest tighten. His lips parted slightly, as though he were about to say something, but no words came. His tail twitched sharply behind him, the only movement in the charged stillness between you.

The datapad wobbled slightly in your hands, a stark reminder of where you were and what you were supposed to be doing. The rational part of your brain screamed at you to step back, to put distance between you, but your body refused to listen. You were caught in the pull of his gaze, trapped in a moment that felt too fragile to break.

Then, almost imperceptibly, his hand shifted beneath yours, the faintest motion that sent a ripple of warmth through you. Was it an accident? Did he mean to—?

You yanked your hand back abruptly, the datapad slipping slightly in your grip as you stumbled over an apology. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to—”

“No,” he interrupted, his voice low and rough, almost cutting you off. “It’s... my fault.”

You both pulled away, the space between you suddenly feeling too vast and too small at the same time. Your hand clenched around the edge of the datapad, your knuckles white as you tried to steady myself. Your heart was racing, your thoughts spinning in a chaotic mess of confusion and longing.

You glanced at him again, half expecting to see frustration or discomfort on his face, but instead, he looked just as rattled as you felt. His ears were pinned back slightly, and the faintest flush of purple painted his cheeks. He wasn’t looking at you, his gaze fixed somewhere off to the side, but the tension in his posture was unmistakable.

Say something, anything. Make it less weird.

You cleared your throat, trying to summon some semblance of composure. “Uh, anyway... as I was saying, the pollen reacts to specific wavelengths.” your voice wavered, but you pressed on, focusing on the datapad as though it held all the answers to the storm brewing inside you. “It’s... fascinating, really.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he finally looked back at you.

The words felt hollow, like you were both trying too hard to pretend the moment hadn’t happened. But the lingering heat from his touch, the unspoken tension in the air, refused to be ignored. You could feel it, pressing against your chest, making it hard to breathe.

He probably thinks I’m ridiculous. Or worse, that I’m imagining things. He was just being polite. That’s all.

But the way his eyes lingered on you, the way his tail twitched with a nervous energy he couldn’t seem to contain—it didn’t feel polite. It felt like something more, something neither of you knew how to name.

You forced a smile, hoping it didn’t look as strained as it felt. “Thanks for stopping by,” you said, your voice a little too bright. “I know you’re busy, so I appreciate you taking the time.”

His gaze flickered, something unreadable passing over his face. “I wanted to,” he said simply, his voice quieter now. “I thought... it was important.”

Important? What does that even mean?

You opened your mouth to ask, to press him for more, but the words caught in your throat. Instead, you nodded, clutching the datapad tightly to your chest as if it could shield you from the weight of his gaze.

The silence stretched between you again, heavy and charged, and you wondered if he felt it too—this unbearable pull that made it impossible to look away. You wondered if he could hear the way your heart thundered in your chest, loud and insistent, drowning out every rational thought.

And you wondered if, in that moment, he was just as lost as you were.

Just say it. Tell her how you’ve been feeling. Stop hesitating like a fool.

But the words felt trapped, lodged somewhere in his throat as he watched you fidget with the datapad. Your eyes darted between him and the glowing screen, but you weren’t really looking at either. He could see it in the way your fingers moved, too fast and too tight, as if trying to occupy themselves. The sight made his heart twist.

Why is this so hard? Why can’t I just talk to her like before?

His tail flicked nervously behind him, betraying the restlessness he was trying to hide. Two weeks without seeing you had felt like an eternity. He’d missed everything about you—the way your lips curved into a soft smile when you were amused, the way your eyes lit up when you talked about your work, the way your laugh made his chest feel light and full all at once.

And now that he was here, standing right in front of you, all he could feel was the overwhelming fear that he’d misread everything. That maybe you haven’t missed him at all. That maybe the distance over the past weeks hadn’t affected you in the same way it had him.

His gaze lingered on you, searching your expression for something—anything—that might give him a clue. But you were so hard to read, your face a mix of polite curiosity and something he couldn’t quite place.

Before he could stop himself, the words slipped out, quiet and raw. “I thought you were avoiding me.”

The moment the words left his mouth, he wanted to take them back. They hung in the air between them, heavy and vulnerable, and he hated how small his voice had sounded. His ears twitched back slightly, and he clenched his fists to keep from fidgeting. Why had he said that? Why couldn’t he just stay silent?

Your head snapped up, eyes wide with surprise. “What? No! I just...” you paused, your words tumbling out in a rush. “I thought you’d be too busy to visit.”

Too busy? The thought almost made him laugh—bitterly, painfully. He hadn’t been able to think about anything else all this time. He had trained, hunted, and gone through the motions of his duties with your face constantly in his mind. Even his siblings had teased him relentlessly about it. Too busy. The idea was almost laughable.

Neteyam’s ears twitched, and his hand moved reflexively to rub the back of his neck, a nervous habit he couldn’t quite break. “Too busy?” he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief.

Your head snapped up again, and he saw something flicker in your eyes—guilt, maybe, or confusion. Your lips parted as if to say something, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you looked at him, your expression caught between vulnerability and surprise, and Neteyam felt his heart ache all over again.

You really don’t see it, do you? How could you not know?

The silence stretched between them, his words hanging in the air like a challenge neither of them knew how to answer. He could feel his pulse racing, his nerves fraying under the weight of everything he wasn’t saying. But he couldn’t pull his gaze away from you, couldn’t stop the flood of emotions that rose to the surface.

“I missed to talking to you,” he admitted softly, the words slipping out before he could second-guess them. His voice was steady, but the vulnerability in it was unmistakable. “I know you’ve been working hard, but... I…” He hesitated, the words tangling in his throat. How could he tell her? How could he explain that her absence had left a hollow space in his days, that the village felt quieter, duller without her? “I thought you didn’t want to see me.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion, and you stepped closer, your movements cautious, like you were approaching a wounded animal. “Neteyam,” you said softly, your voice full of something he couldn’t place—concern, maybe? Or was it something more? “Why would you think that?”

He let out a slow breath, forcing himself to meet your gaze. Your eyes were bright, questioning, and he felt that familiar pull again, like you could see straight through the walls he’d built around himself. He didn’t know how to explain it, this gnawing fear that had crept in over the week you’d been apart.

Because you’re human, and I’m not. Because I can’t stop thinking about you, and it terrifies me. Because every time I see you, I want to be closer, and I don’t know if you feel the same.

He swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak. “I wasn’t sure if...” He trailed off, his voice faltering. What am I even saying? She’s right here. Stop making this so complicated.

You tilted your head, waiting patiently, and the small, encouraging smile you offered made his chest ache. He found himself wanting to tell you everything—to admit how much he had missed you, how your absence had left an emptiness he couldn’t ignore. But the words felt too big, too heavy. So instead, he said the only thing he could manage.

“I missed you,” he admitted quietly, the words barely more than a whisper.

Your eyes widened slightly, and he watched as your cheeks flushed a soft pink. You opened your mouth as if to respond, then closed it again, your expression unreadable. The silence stretched between them, and Neteyam’s nerves tightened like a coiled spring. Maybe he shouldn’t have said it. Maybe he’d misread the situation entirely.

“I missed you too,” you said finally, your voice so soft that he almost didn’t hear it. But the words were there, and they hit him like a rush of warm air, chasing away the chill of doubt.

He exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, his shoulders relaxing slightly. Your eyes met his again, and there was something in them—something warm and unguarded—that made his heart stutter. You stepped closer, the faint glow of the lab light catching the strands of your hair, and Neteyam felt his pulse quicken.

She missed me.

Neteyam’s heart thudded heavily in his chest as he crawled closer with a smooth movement still crouching, the distance between them shrinking until he could see the faint flicker of light reflected in your eyes. His pulse quickened with every beat, his nerves tight like a bowstring pulled taut. He hadn’t planned this moment—hadn’t intended to let his feelings slip through the carefully maintained barriers he’d constructed around them. But now, standing so close to you, your face glowing in the soft light of the lab, he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

“Do you really think I wouldn’t make time for you?” he asked, his voice low and steady, though emotion edged every syllable.

The vulnerability in his own question startled him. It wasn’t just a response—it was a confession. His golden eyes searched yours, looking for answers, for reassurance, for any sign that you felt the same. He couldn’t understand how you could possibly think he wouldn’t want to see you. Did you truly not know? Did you not see how much space you occupied in his thoughts, in his heart?

Your eyes widened slightly, and he watched as a flicker of uncertainty crossed your face. Your lips parted, but your words faltered. “I didn’t want to...” you began, your voice trembling. “I mean, I thought I’d be asking too much.”

Asking too much? The words hit him like a blow, his chest tightening at the very idea. How could she think that? She could ask him for anything, and he’d move the stars themselves to give it to her. He didn’t just want to be there for you—he needed to be, in the same way he needed air, in the same way the forest needed Eywa’s light.

Neteyam’s hand moved before he could stop himself, his fingers reaching out to brush a stray strand of hair from your face. Your skin was soft, warm beneath his callused fingertips, and he let his hand linger near your cheek, the proximity sending a quiet, electric charge through him.

“You could never ask too much of me,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. The words carried a weight he hadn’t meant to reveal, a truth he could no longer hide. His thumb grazed your cheekbone lightly, the movement tender, reverent, as though you might disappear if he wasn’t careful.

Your reaction was subtle but unmistakable—your breath hitched, your eyes locking onto his with a mix of surprise and something deeper, something that made his heart twist in his chest. The air between you were heavy with unspoken emotion, a fragile, electrified thread that threatened to break under the weight of it all.

His mind raced, thoughts tangling as he tried to find the right words. What are you doing? This isn’t the time. She might not feel the same. But another voice, quieter and far more insistent, whispered back: She does. Look at her. She does.

Neteyam didn’t pull his hand away. He couldn’t. The thought of breaking this moment, of stepping back into the safety of distance, felt impossible. Every fiber of his being wanted to stay right here, to hold you gaze, to let you see the truth in his eyes even if he couldn’t speak it aloud.

The intensity of your presence, the quiet power you held over him, was both exhilarating and terrifying. He had faced countless dangers in the forest, fought beasts and braved storms, but nothing compared to this—to the raw vulnerability of standing before you with his heart laid bare.

“Do you know,” he began softly, his voice steady despite the storm inside him, “how much I... think about you? How much I’ve missed you?”

The words came unbidden, slipping free before he could second-guess them. But as soon as they were out, he felt a strange sense of relief, as though he’d been holding his breath for far too long.

The air between them seemed to shift, growing warmer and heavier all at once. His words—so quiet, so honest—wrapped around you like a soft, unseen tether. Your heart thudded painfully in your chest, the sound so loud in your ears you were sure he could hear it too. His big palm on your cheek was the only anchor at this moment,

“I missed you, Neteyam. More than I should have,” you confessed, your voice trembling. The words felt like stepping into the unknown, like letting yourself fall without knowing if he’d catch you. But they were true, and you couldn’t keep them locked away anymore.

The way his breath hitched in response sent a ripple through you, and you felt the weight of the silence that followed. For a moment, the world seemed to pause, suspended in fragile anticipation.

“And I thought I was the only one,” he finally murmured, his voice rough with emotion.

Your heart skipped at his words, a flicker of disbelief mixing with the sharp pang of relief. He had missed you too. Not just as a friend or an ally, but in the same all-consuming way that you had missed him. You felt the corners of your lips twitch into a small, soft smile, and when he laughed quietly, your laughter followed, light and breathless. The sound broke the tension just enough to steady you, though the weight of your shared emotions remained, undeniable and electric.

Your eyes traced his face—his sharp cheekbones, the soft glow of his bioluminescent freckles, the way his golden eyes shimmered as they held yours. He stepped closer, so close that you could feel the faint warmth of his skin, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move. Every part of you were rooted in place, drawn to him like the pull of gravity.

Then, slowly, he leaned down, his forehead brushing gently against yours. The contact was so tender it sent a shiver down your spine, and you closed your eyes instinctively, overwhelmed by the intimacy of the gesture. His scent surrounded you—earthy, wild, and comforting all at once—and you felt yourself relax, melting into the moment even as your heart raced.

Your thoughts were a swirling mess. Is this real? Am I imagining this? What does it mean? But the feel of him, solid and warm against you, quieted your doubts, grounding your in a way nothing else ever had.

“Ma yawne” he whispered, so soft it was barely audible.

Your breath caught in your throat. The word was unfamiliar, but the weight of it, the way he said it, made your chest tighten. It was more than an endearment—it felt like a promise, a confession, a piece of his heart laid bare for you to see.

You didn’t dare open your eyes, afraid that if you did, the moment would shatter, and you’d wake to find it was all a dream. But you didn’t need to see him to know he was there, so close, so vulnerable, offering you something you didn’t quite understand but desperately wanted to hold onto.

Your hands, as if moving on their own, gently rose to rest on his chest, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your palms. It matched your own, a wild, unsteady cadence that spoke of feelings too big to put into words.

“Neteyam...” you whispered, your voice trembling as your lips barely brushed his name. You wanted to say so much more—to tell him how much he meant to you, how your world felt brighter when he was in it. But the words tangled in your throat, trapped by the overwhelming emotions threatening to spill over.

Instead, you tilted your head slightly, your forehead still resting against his, and let the silence speak for you. The weight of the moment pressed against you, and you could feel the unspoken question hanging between you, waiting for an answer neither of you dared to say aloud.

Your heart ached with the realization that this was it—the moment you’d longed for but never allowed yourself to hope for. And for the first time, you let yourself believe that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same.

The world narrowed to the space between them, to the warmth of your breath mingling with his, to the way your soft voice had wrapped around his name just moments ago. Neteyam’s pulse thundered in his ears, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and disbelief. The vulnerability in your eyes—wide, shimmering, and impossibly close—made his chest tighten. He had been so careful, so determined to guard his feelings, but now there was no denying it: you were his gravity, his anchor, and he was powerless to resist you pull.

As your gazes locked, the air between them became electric, heavy with all the words neither of you had dared to speak. Your hands, small and trembling, rested lightly on his shoulders, your touch sending a warmth spreading through his chest. He felt your fingers tighten slightly, as if you were steadying yourself, and the motion unraveled him. You wanted this too.

He wasn’t sure who moved first, whether it was you leaning up or him leaning down, but the distance between you disappeared in a breath. The moment your lips met, his mind stilled, as if the chaos of the world had melted into silence. The kiss was tentative at first, your softness meeting his hesitance, but it was enough to set his blood aflame.

Your lips were warm, soft, tiny and impossibly delicate against his own, and he was struck by how fragile you felt in his arms—so small, so human. Yet, there was a quiet strength in the way you kissed him back, your breath hitching slightly as you pressed closer. Your arms slid up, winding around his neck, and the feeling of you holding onto him made his chest ache with something too big to name. He felt you pull yourself toward him, your tiny frame fitting perfectly against his, and it was all he could do not to crumble under the weight of your trust.

His hands found your waist, his long fingers spanning your sides with ease as he guided you closer, holding you as though you might vanish if he let go. The contrast of your fragility against his strength made him hyperaware of every movement, every shift. He was so much larger than you, his hands easily circling your form, and he cradled you as if you were made of glass. Yet, you didn’t shy away. If anything, you melted into him, your body pressing against his in a way that made his heart stutter. His tail slowly circled around your ankle, like he wanted to keep you in place.

As the kiss deepened, the emotions he had buried for so long spilled over, pouring into every gentle movement. He poured his longing, his admiration, his love into the kiss, hoping you could feel the words he hadn’t yet found the courage to say. Your lips moved against his with an urgency that mirrored his own, and it took his breath how perfectly you fit together, how natural this felt despite the impossibility of your worlds.

Your hands tightened around his neck, and he felt the brush of your fingers against the nape of his neck, where his neural queue started and draped over his broad back and reach down to the floor as he crouched before you. The simple touch sent a shiver down his spine, and he couldn’t stop the quiet, reverent sound that escaped him—a low hum of contentment that vibrated in his chest. He deepened the kiss, angling his head to pull you closer, his grip on your waist firm but careful. You felt so small in his arms, your frame dwarfed by his, and the realization only made him hold your tighter, as if he could shield you from everything in the world.

When you finally broke apart,  your breaths mingling in the small space between them, his eyes fluttered open to meet yours. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips slightly swollen, and your chest rose and fell with quickened breaths. You were beautiful, radiant, and for a moment, all he could do was stare, his heart hammering against his ribs.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper, the honesty slipping out before he could stop it. His thumb brushed against your waist, and he felt you tremble under his touch.

Your lips parted, but no words came, only the soft exhale of your breath as you stared back at him with an expression that made him feel as though he had just given you the stars.

And in that moment, with your arms around his neck and your eyes searching his, Neteyam realized that this wasn’t just a kiss. It was a promise. A beginning. A tether to something he had never dared to hope for but now couldn’t imagine living without.

Part 14: To sneak

[supernova41st]

hiii ‼️‼️ I was wondering if you could do tf2 boys (any characters you want) with Mercy from overwatch reader 😭.

Heroes never die 🪽

Tf2 x Mercy!Reader

Scout/medic

A/n: SHES BAAAACK YUH YUHH BOOM SHACKALACKAAAAA YES GODDDD. Idk what else to say other than I hope y’all missed me!! Idk what my ‘schedule’ will be but just expect more posts in the future

Medic

Do I need to say anything? You don’t fw him at all. The differences are pretty clear, moral and sanity wise.

At first he was pretty interested to have another doctor on the team. But he quickly got jealous because the mercs took more of a liking to you than because of your gentleness.

“You’re with me doctor”

“Jou got it”

“Not you ya four-eyed twap! The angel”

“Oh, thank you ☺️”

Resurrecting heavy

“Doctor! We must try this resurrection thing!”

“You too???”

He hates you now, you’re not really fond of him either. Not only does he practice medicine with no license but his procedures are so inhumane compared to yours.

“Thank my medical professionalism, Ludwig.”

“Oo Klugscheißer, miss perfect!! Fuck you.”

He genuinely thinks you’re an Angel here to make his life more difficult cuz from what I heard he’s had his fair share of dealing with satan.

He’s interested in your work but will never EVER ask you about it because of his pettiness. Will try to recreate your resurrection skills however it looked less like a resurrection and more like dragging a zombie out of its grave.

When he showed it off to you you were terrified

“Now if we just grunt just help our little subject on his feet, he’ll be as good as new!”

“Celestial! Ludwig please put him out of his misery!!”

“Vhat? Nonsense, he’s fine!”

*he says as his his subjects body collapses

He got so thirsty for you when he saw you pistol whipping an enemy scout for him, it startled him so he thought it was hot

“Whew, careful out there Ludwig”

“…please, please take my heart. I vill have it taxidermied for you and everything!”

“What 🙁”

Now he’s become obsessed, pockets you every round and the team is not thrilled about that. It is fun to see you fly around landing headshots at the enemy team tho

Scout

This man had ZERO fucking idea you were even on the team until he began a mission with you. So when he was on the edge of dying and you flew over to lend a helping hand he frl thought god sent an angel to save him.

He didn’t even say anything he was just in shock like

‘😦..I’m the chosen one’

When he got back to the base everything felt so surreal to him, but then he immediately started bragging about it cuz it’s scout.

“Omgg do y’all have a guardian Angel? 🤭No? Fucking losers”

“Are you talking about y/n?”

“Who?”

“Hello”

“..oh”

He was so let down 😭 he had a genuine ‘I’m special’ moment there

You get so tired of him so fast. It’s always something with him, he’s like a little boy always getting injured and crying to his mom to pull out the first-aid kid

“Y/n, I lost a friggin’ tooth again”

“Seriously scout? This is the fifth one this week! Next time you’re going to medic for this.”

Free my boy, he didn’t do anything wrong 😞

Loves it when you resurrect him, makes him feel like a ‘newborn baby’

“Did it hurt?”

“Scout I’m busy I don’t have time for your pick up lines.”

‘:(‘

This bitch will do ANYTHING but stay still so you can heal him. It’s like he’s running away from you??

“🏥🏥🏥🏥🏥”

“SCOUT PLEASE GET DOWN HERE!!”

“THEYRE SHOOTING 🏥”

“YOU THINK THIS IS NEWS TO ME?”

Will try hopping on you when you’re flying, it didn’t go well.

“Are you gonna heal my legs now?”

“No! That’s on you for being stupid”

“When are you gonna give me a pair of those wings doc? I was born to fly 👽”

[sansaorgana]

— DECEPTION (IV)

DECEPTION MASTERLIST

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Elf!Reader // Adar x fem!Elf!Reader

SUMMARY — Your relationship with Adar develops and you already see he is going to be a completely different kind of a partner than Sauron was. You're trying to gain your new husband's trust and you accompany him and his army during the attack on Tirharad where you get to witness the Orcs' battlefield havoc for the first time with your own eyes.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I am hyperfixating on this fic so much and it feels amazing to be so devoted to writing again. In general, the brainrot is real when it comes to The Rings of Power and I have not expected it but it is the most welcome. I already loved Season One but nothing could have prepared me for Season Two! 💕 Because of that, this fic will most likely have more parts than I have planned, so be warned already. I also might have an idea for a fic with Annatar but I would rather make it a long one-shot instead of starting yet another multichapter... But we will see... 🤔 I start my job soon and I honestly have no idea how I will be able to focus there to learn all my tasks if all I can think of is Adar and Sauron lol

WARNINGS — forced/arranged marriage, Reader is NOT a good person – she is proud, greedy, fake and corrupted by Sauron, "love" triangle situationship, every trigger from S01E06 (death, battle, violence) + Reader is not very fond of the humans and considers them a lower form of life (she is Sauron's lover, okay? I do not share her beliefs because I am a human, too)

WORD COUNT — 5,570

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

DECEPTION (IV)

Tirharad was close but the Orcs could not travel freely in daylight. Even hidden by the thick forest, when the sun rose high up enough, they had to hide. So, you were standing by your horse and watching them setting up a small camp in the middle of the woods. Adar was standing nearby and you could overhear his conversation with Glûg.

“Are we attacking tonight, Lord Father?” The Orc asked.

“Tomorrow,” Adar answered and squeezed his arm reassuringly. “Tonight I shall send the scouts to observe the village,” he explained and Glûg nodded at him before going away to tell the news to his friends.

Adar approached you and you slightly flinched, which was an unplanned and uncontrolled reaction. He spotted it and froze for a short while, refusing to get any further. You were surprised to see that he seemed to respect your personal space and he was ready to back off any moment after realising you were not comfortable with him being around you now. On the other hand, considering the tortures he had been through, it made sense that he was sensitive about the concept of violating someone’s space.

When you first had seen him, he had terrified you. And the idea of marrying him had been the most dreadful. But now you were slowly realising that as cruel as he was to his enemies – he would not be a husband as brutish.

“What am I doing here?” You asked him, quietly. Then, you looked up to meet his gaze. “If it was your plan to destroy Ostirith and its habitants all along… Why save me? Why take me with you?” You asked, genuinely wondering.

“We share certain… qualities,” Adar explained softly. “Loneliness, attraction to darkness. You were trying to tempt me so I would agree to your father’s offer and marry you. And you have tempted me indeed because I’ve been lonely for a few centuries too long now,” he admitted. “And it was the most endearing when I realised you were doing it all for your mother.”

You looked down, not being able to hold his gaze any longer when he mentioned your mother. Yes, it was true that you had been sacrificing yourself for her as well. But what truly had been in the back of your mind was Sauron and the fact that getting close to Adar and his army of Orcs could help your lover in his future schemes.

And perhaps Adar indeed was sick with loneliness if he couldn’t see how truly rotten you were.

“Lord Father, your tent is ready,” one of the Orcs approached you and pointed at the largest tent for Adar to rest in.

“Thank you. Prepare one for my wife, too,” Adar nodded at him.

“There is no need. That one is big enough for us two,” you pointed out and walked inside without looking back.

You looked around and sat on the wooden chair by the small table. The Orcs had no home, so they were travelling with some furniture in case they would spend their days in camps like this one. It was a very poor setting but you were not one of the Elves who had grown up in the rich and beautiful realms like Eregion or Mithlond, so you were not complaining.

Adar walked inside, carrying a heavy wooden chest with some of his belongings. You watched him place it on the ground nearby the bed.

“These are too important to lose or leave unsupervised,” he informed you and straightened his back before looking down at your face. “If you do not wish to be in my presence for now, I understand. I thought you would hate me. Perhaps you do but you do not show it as fiercely as I suspected you would.”

“I feel bad for the Elves you slaughtered inside Ostirith just because they were unfortunate enough to work under my father,” you admitted. “But watching this fortress tumbling to the ground was an oddly satisfying experience to me,” you added and Adar furrowed his brows. “It had been like a prison too many times,” you explained.

In fact, you mourned Ostirith a little but no amount of admitting it would change what had happened and you did not want him to see your weaknesses. You wanted to earn his trust as much as you could. His and his children’s.

“What do you keep there?” You changed the subject lazily and pointed at the wooden chest with your chin. You truly were curious but you wanted to ask in a careless manner, so he would not get too suspicious.

Adar hesitated for a moment before crouching down next to the chest and opening it. You had to fight every muscle in your body from trying to get a better look inside and to keep appearing unbothered.

But when he lifted up the Iron Crown, you gasped. A thrill went down your spine; a malicious shiver as your heart clenched inside your chest. You could smell Sauron’s blood on it and you immediately realised how your beloved had died. It was a twisted way to get rid of him and quite poetic, too – you had to admit it.

“You recognise the item,” Adar pointed out.

“Has my father not mentioned my education and intuition?” You cracked a nervous smile. “How did you get Morgoth’s crown?”

Adar only smiled at that and hid the item again, locking the chest with a key that he kept with himself.

“It is strong enough to kill Sauron – it has defeated him once. Not fully, so it seems. But with the help of even stronger magic, it could work again and this time it could finish the job,” he explained. “Now you know how important this chest is. I have shown it to you in case something happens to me.”

Now it was your time to smile mysteriously but you only nodded at him to show him you understood completely.

“Do you wish to rest now, my Lady?” Adar asked as he straightened his back and stood up. “I shall go to my children and answer their questions about the attack,” he said.

“I have nothing else to do, it seems, my Lord,” you sighed and leaned back on the chair as you watched him approaching the way out of the tent. “Unless…” You stopped him and he turned his head around. “Unless you would not mind my company. I am curious about the attack myself,” you added. “I am your wife,” you reminded him. “Your equal. I wish to stand by you always instead of hiding away in tents, camps and woods; left in the darkness of not knowing what is happening around me. I have never wished to be this kind of woman,” you stood up as if you were challenging him.

“You take matters into your own hands,” Adar commented. “I have seen that already back in Ostirith. You may join me, wife,” he emphasised the last word and it sounded a bit like mockery but you also spotted a hint of affection.

He extended his hand carefully towards you, still remembering how you had flinched before but this time you were in full control of your body, so you approached him, although instead of taking his hand, you put yours on his arm like a viper snake tightening its hold around the victim.

But your victim was powerful and treacherous, therefore you had to be the most cautious.

Adar deciding to attack in the evening of the next day only prolonged the anxious anticipation. You had never taken a part in any battle of this sort before.

When you had told your husband that you had never wanted to be this kind of woman – hiding away and waiting – that had been a lie. You had been like this with Sauron whenever he had been scheming and plotting somewhere. All you had been doing was warming up the bed for him. And whenever he had been back… He had been the most hungry and thirsty for you. That was all you had been caring about with Sauron. That, and to become his Queen.

But the cruel fate had taken your lover away from you and now it was time to prove your love and devotion to him. To help him – as simple as it was. You would bring the army of the Orcs to him and you would destroy your own realm for him on the way if you had to.

Sauron had always been quite… chatty. He had not only been drowning you with the countless affections and sweet words but he had also been sharing lots of his plans with you while playing with your hair or caressing the curves of your body. And perhaps he had been thinking that you had not been listening to any of it but it was not true. You had been a devoted listener.

And you knew his plan for the Southlands was to take over these lands and to make them his own terrifying realm. You knew his plans for your home were the most horrific and yet you liked the idea of ruling Middle-earth from the ruins of your homeland. It would be a symbol for you – a purge of the Southlands and Ostirith – your personal prison being turned into ashes and you becoming the Queen of them.

However horrific it would be, you knew it would not matter. You would rule alongside your lover and that was all you needed. You could be his Queen in the most precious gemstones and you could be his Queen in rags. You could rule over the beautiful Elves and you could rule over the filthy Orcs and it made no difference to you. What mattered was being by his side and getting intoxicated with his love and his worship.

Thinking of Sauron fondly, you wondered if you should try to wear your tempting nightgown again for this night as the sounds of the partying Orcs were reaching you from the outside of the tent. But then you thought that perhaps the nightgown had the opposite effect on Adar who simply did not like seeing you trying to seduce him. So, you just stripped yourself down to an underdress and rested on the bed, looking bored as you played with the necklace around your neck.

When Adar entered the tent, he tilted his head at the sight of you and then he sighed, sitting by the table and opening the notes from the scouts that had been waiting for him.

You kept observing him from the corner of your eye but he seemed to be uninterested in you, so you rolled your eyes and looked away. For a man claiming to be so lonely, he was also very cold. And you knew that in the eyes of the Valars, you were still unwed because the marriage was not consummated. However, you did not want to push him into anything because it could cause his mistrust and anger.

“I am scared of my uncertain position here,” you finally admitted and he froze before turning around to look at you, confused, still holding the piece of paper in his hand.

“What do you mean, my Lady? You are my wife,” he shook his head.

“No, I am not… yet,” you swallowed thickly and squeezed the pendant of your necklace in your hand.

You had no idea how to seduce sexually or convince him to join you in bed because Sauron had never taught you any of this – he had always been an eager lover.

Adar sighed and left the table to sit on the edge of the bed as he looked down at you. He extended his hand to brush your cheeks with his fingertips and then he allowed his hand to go lower to your chest, which was rising up and down in the pace that was going quicker now. In that moment, you could see clearly in his eyes that he desired you, so you could not understand why he was stopping himself from going further.

“Is it because of something Morgoth had done to you?” You asked, trying to sound gentle and hoping it would not anger him.

“No,” Adar shook his head with a very gentle hint of a smile. “It is because you do not want it willingly,” he admitted and retreated his hand. “When I agreed to marry you, I knew you were being forced by your father. You could have been assuring me that you wanted it but I knew you were only doing it for your mother and now, when she is safe, you are doing it to ensure your own position,” he kept explaining and you couldn’t help being surprised.

He was one of the most dangerous people you had ever met and surely one of the most brutal and yet he refused to harm his own wife in any way even if it was not love that had bonded you two but loneliness and the shared rot of the soul.

“Do you know that arranged marriage is against the Elven customs?” Adar asked with a sad smile.

“We are going against all Elven customs, haven’t you noticed, my Lord?” You swallowed thickly and lifted yourself up on your elbows.

“You are wearing my ring and I am wearing yours. We are wed for eternity no matter what,” Adar stood up to leave the edge of your bed. “And eternity is a long time for you to eventually warm yourself up to the idea of sharing your bed with me. And if not, I shall survive,” he shrugged his arms. “There is more to life than the pleasure of the flesh.”

You opened your mouth to say something – anything – and to deny his words, to keep tempting him somehow. But Adar interrupted you and saved you from any further embarrassment.

“Speaking of survival, I have something for you. Gifts,” Adar pointed at the chest that had been put inside the tent not so long ago by one of the Orcs but you had been ignoring it until now.

“I did not expect you to be a husband who would spoil his wife with gifts,” you tried to tease as you sat up fully now and watched him open the chest.

“These are not traditional gifts by any means,” Adar warned you and he approached the bed again to hand you a slim and beautifully ornamented dagger, made of black metal.

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of it. In fact, it nearly made you sick and you tried very hard not to show how much this item had affected your senses.

It was Sauron’s dagger; the one he had been carrying with him most of the time. Adar had to take it away from him alongside the crown when he had murdered your beloved. You knew that dagger – you had been watching Sauron with it countless of times. And Sauron himself had been using it on you many times before to increase the pleasure of your intimate moments. That dagger meant the world to you and to hold it in your hand was like holding the hand of your lover again after all those centuries of separation and yearning.

��I-it is beautiful,” you stuttered out and took it, trying to compose yourself.

“You seem to be uneasy,” Adar furrowed his brow and you quickly came up with an excuse as you looked up at him with a trembling lower lip.

“It is of great beauty but I can sense a tremendous darkness within it,” you explained.

“It belonged to Sauron,” Adar admitted. “If it is too corrupted for you, I can take it from you and have a custom one made,” he assured you. 

“I can handle it,” you shook your head and squeezed your hand around the blade’s hilt. “It was just a slight disturbance when I first touched it,” you answered. “Thank you, that gift is very thoughtful, my husband,” you forced a smile and Adar sighed with relief. He extended his hand to gently grab your chin and caress your cheek before he walked away to the chest once again.

And when he turned around one more time, you gasped once again at the sight of a black breastplate. It was Elven – you recognised the ornaments in the shapes of leaves immediately.

“It belonged to one of the Elves we killed on the way. We collect their armour to later transform the pieces into the items we find useful but this breastplate I ordered to paint black since it might suit your size,” Adar admitted. “You march with the army and you need to be protected from the blades and arrows of our enemies,” Adar placed the breastplate on the chair next to the bed but you already stood up, all ready to wear it and see for yourself.

He assisted you in putting it on and you had no mirror to see how you looked, so you had to rely on his opinion on it.

“And?” You asked, excitedly.

“I think it fits you well, my Lady,” Adar nodded and you smiled widely at him. “And I see the gifts do please you.”

“Of course they do. So far, the books have been my weapons, but this feels quite empowering,” you admitted and tried to get a glimpse of your appearance in the reflection of your dagger’s blade.

Sauron had only been gifting you jewellery, dresses and nightgowns that later would end up torn or cut up with this very dagger. Sometimes, he had given you a book when he had wanted you to study it for him to help him expand his knowledge. And as much as you loved being spoiled and worshipped by him in this way, you also found it very dignifying to receive gifts of this sort from your husband.

“I want my wife to be respected not only because of being my spouse but because of who she is on her own. I want the whole Middle-earth to see the Dark Lady that you are,” Adar confessed in the Quenya language while he stood behind you and you felt his hands on your hips as he leaned in to whisper into your ear. You watched his distorted reflection in the blade of your dagger and in that moment, you swore, you truly wanted him and it scared you because it could mean that it was not Sauron whom you loved but the promise of power he had been presenting you with.

You felt the small amount of pain from squeezing the blade too tightly and it brought you back to reality. You shook these thoughts off and took a deep breath in. Of course you loved Sauron – you loved everything about him. Every inch of you craved and missed him to the point that you ended up caressing the hilt of the dagger for the whole night long, trying to feel the remains of his fingertips.

You have observed the fire of the burning villages from the Ostirith’s watchtower but now you were experiencing the Orcs’ havoc for the first time personally, walking into burning Tirharad alongside your husband. Dead human bodies scattered under your feet while the rooftops of the houses burnt as the Orcs kept destroying everything on their way as if they were in a frenzy, chanting the word nampat. 

You were wearing your new breastplate over your black dress and you had the dagger attached to it on your hip in case you needed it but there were no humans around anymore even though they had to fight bravely since the ground was also full of the dead bodies of the Orcs.

You were careful with your steps and it felt as if you watched the scene in slow motion – in a way, you were alone in the middle of this small hell. You let Adar walk past you as your own pace slowed down. Those were the lands your father had been the guardian of. Now they were burning and you only watched.

No, you didn’t just watch. You participated in it. You had brought death to the village of Tirharad.

“Is that what you wish to be?” You joined your husband’s side again. “The King of ashes?” You asked.

“I do not wish to be a King,” he remarked, “and my children do prefer the ashes.”

You joined the Orcs that were trying to get inside the tavern where the remaining villagers seemed to be hiding and they had barricaded themselves. However, it was only a matter of time when the Orcs would finally be able to open the wooden doors.

You felt a thrill of anticipation and excitement when they succeeded. You were not quite sure what was the item your husband was seeking – as much as he trusted you with some things and had even shown you the crown of Morgoth, he also kept some information hidden from you.

You took a step ahead but Adar’s hand stopped you from walking further by taking you by your wrist as the Orcs ran inside, attacking the villagers.

“Do not rush, my Lady,” he scolded you gently. “Let my children take them over first. You would make an easy target,” he pointed out and even though his words hurt your pride a little, you knew he was right and he had only done it to protect you.

You nodded your head at him and you waited a moment before Adar let go of your hand and walked inside the tavern. You could hear how quiet it got and you understood why since he had that effect on people. You took a deep breath in and straightened your back before following him, ready to face all those humans and make your appearance as Adar’s Dark Lady for the first time in public.

But when you walked inside, there was only one person that you could keep your eyes on as you gasped quietly at the sight of him. He was being held by two Orcs and his eyes widened at the sight of you, too.

“Arondir…” You whispered his name. “I thought you were dead,” you admitted.

He had not returned from one of his scouting missions and that had been one of many such cases lately when the Orcs had overtaken these lands. You all had mourned him already in Ostirith and you personally had been very sad about him in particular because you considered him to be one of your closest friends inside the fortress.

“My Lady…” Arondir was clearly confused to see you like this. “I thought the same of you when we watched Ostirith fall,” he admitted. “I have mourned you.”

“And I have mourned you, old friend,” you nodded at him and you stood next to Adar. You finally looked at the other faces and they kept staring at you with terror.

They knew you. You did not know them but they knew about you. Your father had been no King but he had been the protector and the guardian of these lands and you were his only daughter – a beautiful Elven maiden walking around the forests or riding her horse through this realm, sometimes talking to its habitants on the way. You were a part of their stories and myths, their songs and their legends and in their eyes you were a Princess. 

Now, they could not comprehend why you were standing next to the man who was the very reason of their doom.

However, no one dared to ask any question. Not even Arondir and you just knew he had to be dying of curiosity to know what had happened. Just like you were pretty curious to find out why he had never made it back to Ostirith, which seemed to had been his own choice.

In the meantime, after observing your interaction with Arondir, Adar approached him slowly, staring at your friend with the most intensity.

“What I seek. Give it to me,” Adar said in the Quenya language. 

“Let them go. I will consider it,” Arondir answered in the same speech and no trace of fear was spotted upon his face. You knew that your husband would not get whatever he wanted easily because you knew Arondir and you were aware of his stubborn and courageous nature. You were afraid it would lead him to his death now and that was the loss you would grieve surely, especially after witnessing it with your own eyes.

Suddenly, you started to think that, perhaps, being this kind of woman – who would stay behind and wait… Perhaps it would be better. Perhaps Sauron had been protecting your innocence and your fragility when he had not been taking you with him anywhere. Perhaps he had not wanted anything else except for him to corrupt you.

Adar nodded his head at the Orcs and the ones who had human villagers at the ends of their blades began to use their weapons and kill these poor people.You tried your best to remain unbothered by it but your heart pounded inside of your chest. You could see some of the people who were exclaiming in fear were also looking up to you to help them but you could not. You could not risk this fragile thread of trust that connected you with your husband.

And, unfortunately to them, no human life was worthy enough for you to risk ruining your plans to help Sauron in the end of all of this. They had to die, so the greater thing could emerge from it later. The Dark Lord who would heal all Middle-earth. Their sacrifice would be the most appreciated then.

“Why sacrifice their life for such a little thing?” Adar asked and in that moment once again you were confused by how cruel this man could be – the very same man who refused to touch you just to make sure everything between you two was consensual.

That made you feel special.

More people kept dying and Arondir screamed in anger into Adar’s face, then he looked at you, awaiting any reaction but there was none even though your eyes had to betray you a little bit and show some pain.

“Arondir, please,” you stepped in. “Just cooperate,” you tried to reason with him. “For the sake of our friendship.”

“I am no friend of yours!” Arondir spat out and even though his reaction was the most understandable, it stung your heart and angered you. 

You had never been able to handle rejection very well. The pain and compassion in your eyes turned into rage in a very brief moment. Sauron had always found your mood switches of this sort very endearing.

Adar turned around and spotted a wounded woman laying down with the blade pressed to her neck. She was oddly calm in the middle of this bloody chaos.

“The woman next,” Adar ordered and these three words seemed to have a very strong effect on Arondir. He screamed and grunted, trying to get out as the Orcs holding him struggled to keep him steady.

“No!” Some young boy shouted, most likely that woman’s son.

But you focused on Arondir as you smirked. So, it was love that had kept him away from Ostirith. It was love that had caused him to not come back. And it was love for a human to make it even more romantic in the cheapest way.

You had always heard stories of the Elves falling for the humans but you had never understood any of them. Why would any Elf fall for a creature so weak…? You were quite the opposite – you loved a Maia; nearly a God – and you often wondered what he had seen in you… a common Elf.

“Wait!” The young boy shouted at the Orc who raised his hand to strike the final blow upon the woman’s neck.

“No!” Arondir screamed at the boy and you raised an eyebrow.

“It’s under here,” the boy confessed, desperate to save his mother and Arondir looked at him with terror in his eyes. “It’s under here.”

“No…” Arondir whispered at this betrayal.

“Elves do love differently than humans,” you explained to the boy. “He might love your mother but he will still sacrifice her – and this whole village – for this one magic item,” you pointed out with mockery. “He does not understand why none of this matters to you. You just want to save your mother, am I right, boy?” You asked him and approached him as Arondir shot you a deadly glance.

But, in a way, you did not have to fake much of that compassion towards the boy. You knew what it was like to love your mother and to try to save her no matter the cost.

The boy nodded at you and you nodded at the Orc standing behind him to let him go. So he did and the boy grabbed the tool that would help him to get to the item.

“Theo!” Arondir called his name.

“I’m sorry,” the boy named Theo whispered and pried one of the stones that the floor of the tavern was made of.

Arondir kept grunting and trying to get out of the Orcs’ hold but they were stronger than him. Adar crouched down to get the small thing covered in dirty rags out of the hole under the stone as you stood above him and looked down with curiosity. When he opened it, a sword’s hilt was revealed and it had been forged in the same fashion as Sauron’s dagger or Morgoth’s crown. You could feel its dark magic as an ominous feeling sent a shiver down your spine.

Then, the loud rumbling reached your ears and you all furrowed your brows at the sound. You realised it was coming from the many horses going your way from afar. Someone was coming with an army to help the people of Tirharad.

You were scared at first. Scared of such a quick defeat. If it was an army of the Elves, your whole scheme would be over before it had even started. On the other hand, considering the fact you had been married to Adar for a few days, you could still save yourself by putting on a show of sobbing and explaining to the High King how much your awful father had been forcing you to become a part of this union. Perhaps he would believe you but you were scared of Gil-galad the most because he was so pure and made of such strong light that he would surely see through you immediately.

In such a case, it was very beneficial that your marriage at least had not been consummated.

Adar grabbed you by the sleeve of your dress and walked you out of the tavern. You could sense he was nervous as well and you two nearly bumped into Glûg standing in front of the building, anxiously waiting for his Lord Father to tell him the worrying news.

“The army is coming, Lord Father. We do not know yet who–” he started.

“I have a task for you,” Adar ignored him as he turned around to face you and Glûg shut his mouth as he looked down.

“What is it?” You asked, trembling slightly. The rumbling sound coming from the distance was growing louder as your anxiety was rising.

“You will go back to Ostirith and use your blood to extend the sword. There is a crevice – you know which one; Ostirith was your home. You have to insert the sword inside and twist it,” Adar handed you the hilt, still covered in the dirty rags.

You took it from him but you were out of words as you kept staring at him. He had to be desperate to give you out of all people such a task.

“That will open the dam,” you shook your head. “I do not understand.”

“Do it,” Adar insisted and clenched his jaw, staring at you intensely. “This way, you get to finish what I started and you get to be safe, away from the battlefield. You have no time to lose. Glûg will go with you,” he looked at at the Orc. “Look after my wife, Glûg.”

The Orc nodded at you, visibly proud of the job he was given.

You were still unsure of the whole thing, clenching the sword hilt covered in rags in your hands but you saw an opportunity of getting out of danger that was coming. However, when you looked at Adar, you realised it could be the last time you were seeing him alive and for some reason it made you sad a little bit. He was a mysterious man and you hoped to get to know some of his secrets before you would get back with Sauron.

“Are you sure you trust me with such a task?” You asked. He looked like it was a very important job to do and he cared deeply about it being done properly.

“I do not have many I can trust,” he only said.

“Clearly,” you answered and took a deep breath in before looking at Glûg. You nodded at him and you both ran away as fast as possible towards the woods.

MASTERLIST

[jiminrings]

478 phase 3 part two (sneak peeks!! :D)

sneak peek 01

You have the terrifying idea in the back of your head, locked and loaded for anyone (read: Jungkook) to see if they take the additional second to ask you, that you’ll have to suffer all over again; that you’ll have to establish an ultimatum with a time limit of sorts, just so you can nullify the vacancy in you by pushing Jungkook away again.

Even now, a part of you wonders about Sora. 

She’s no longer a part of your husband’s life, for good this time, yet she occupies your mind every once in a while as if she’s a bad meal on a bad day you have to stomach over and over again. You want to vomit her out completely and rid yourself of the taste of being inferior to who came before you, and yet, she lingers like a stray who knows its home.

You wonder if she’s happy with her life and how it turned out, even if Jungkook’s no longer in it despite being each other’s first for everything. You wonder if she ever thinks about Jungkook whenever it’s April 23 or when she walks past tent bars; if she’s ever married now and has a family like you and her first love do.

You wonder about Sora from time to time because if Jungkook really loved her, you fear that a little bit of it would always linger.

In the same way that you had really loved a multitude of things growing up, little bits of them would always linger even if you’ve sworn off them. 

Your old obsession with tiny bottles of perfume you could only buy from boutiques (and never from malls) resurfaces whenever you visit your parents and magically, they always have a box filled up with your childhood shirts they’ve spared for Hwayoung to wear, imbued with a scent you can place to a memory, but not replicate.

The old fixation you had on patchwork blankets lingers whenever you head to the stockroom to store a PR package you could justify keeping for future purposes, only to see the unopened stacks of shirts you’ve gotten from numerous workshops, countries, and tapings as mementos throughout the years. They sit there in the dust, waiting patiently for you to take notice, but you avert your eyes as to not start a project you can’t bring yourself to finish.

The old liking you had towards the color orange stains on your fingers whenever you peel tangerines for Hwayoung, training a keen eye on her as she holds it for herself while slicing the portions you have at hand for her to eat safely. 

You wonder about Sora and if she ever holds the regret of letting go of Jungkook for someone like you.

You wonder if Jungkook’s love for her, although dissolved and voided already, lingers through the existence of Eunsu — someone who’s much, much different than you, just like Sora was.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy and you stand by it, because holding Hwayoung while carrying the backpack that’s meant to sustain the both of you in a foreign country, just because you don’t want any excess baggage as you surprise Jungkook out of nowhere, has never felt lighter in your heart.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy, even if you wonder why the door to Jungkook’s hotel room is open by itself without needing a key.

Love is not supposed to feel heavy, even if you meet several pairs of eyes that either locks or avoids your own, all for a multitude of reasons. 

“Jungkook,” you whisper, pupils shaking as you instinctively turn Hwayoung’s head away from the sight before you. “What’s going on?”

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sneak peek 02

You know it’s going to come eventually.

You know the telltale dread that fills you up when something far bigger and beyond you is on its path to overtake you. The articles, the scrutiny, and the discourses haven’t even entered the stage yet you already feel sick because this time, it’s not only your name that’s going to be dragged into a situation you never thought would happen.

It’s also your daughter’s.

“We need to talk about Hwayoung,” you approach Jungkook as soon as you come home after your overtime, stilling in your tracks when you see Hwayoung sleeping in her pen.

Jungkook’s eyes linger on her before looking at you properly this time, the knot on his throat loosening at the prospect of what’s been bothering his mind repeatedly, but with the promise of a solution that he hasn’t arrived at, yet is bound to hurt him nonetheless.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

You sit on the far end of the baby blue floor couch as if you and Jungkook don’t share a home together.

“We look okay to her now but still,” you pause, looking down on your feet that are bruising from the heels you’ve been filming with all day and night. “I don’t want to put her in the middle of… everything that thisis.”

Jungkook nods, not only because he understands, but because he’s aware of everything, all the way from the guilt of being a husband to the guilt of being a dad. 

“She’s bound to ask questions too, and even if she’s not asking them now, I feel bad having to keep her in the dark.”

“She’s still young, Jungkook. I never thought I’d say this, but I mean,” you sigh, shrugging defeatedly as you try to look for the right words. “If we keep including her in situations that she shouldn’t be a part of, we’re only bringing her closer to harm. For all we know, someone somewhere has a picture of her during the trip.”

“I-I tried my best. I moved as fast as I-…”

“I know. I also tried my best when we took the trip to you,” you exhale heavily, trying to wrap your head around the complexity of the past week alone; you can’t even understand why you pushed yourself to go back to work immediately after going back home. “I’m not saying that Hwayoung’s known already. I’m just considering the possibility because we could never be too sure.”

Jungkook knows you’re trying to get rid of the guilt that forms in him for that matter, but for everything else, he knows better than to assume of you.

“Do you…” he swallows. “Do you also think that Hwayoung needs a breather from us? Not the other way around, of course, but you know-…”

“I know what you mean,” you nod your head, the guilt of being a mom to a Hwayoung coming easily these days. “It’ll be good for her to be around other people. To be away from what we have going on.”

You and Jungkook share a guilt that’s only unique to having Hwayoung under your circumstances, and it’s a burden you want to get rid of without ever hurting her in the process.

“We can’t have my parents babysit. They read me easily and I don’t want them to know,” you confide, making your husband hang his head in shame even if it wasn’t your intention.

“My parents can’t either. They went on a cruise.”

“I don’t trust nannies,” you add, making Jungkook nod deliberately.

“Who can we trust then?” he sighs, rubbing his hand all over his face as he tries to scour his brain for people. “Who do we have in our lives that Hwayoung trusts too?”

Your head tilts after a few seconds in realization, and Jungkook’s mind drifts to his daughter’s godfather whether he likes it or not.

You and your husband have the same idea in mind, with one being less fond of it than the other.

“I’ll call Yoongi.”

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dun dun DUNNNNNN :O wanna read chapter two + intermission 02, get early access to the finale when it drops, and read hundredssss of exclusive works?? u can head to my patreon :D !!!

also to get ahead of questions: chapter two, intermission 02, and the finale WILL also be up on tumblr!!! it's just that patreon citizens get early access to general fics (aka fics like 478 that are both posted on tumblr and patreon) + exclusive pieces :-)

++ if you're wondering about the posting schedule here on tumblr, i do it with a lag!! as soon as i post the finale on patreon, i'll be posting part two here ☝️🤓

[cursed-peanut]

About the reunited au (tw suicide)

What if after realising how bad sukuna is reader ends her life instead of moving someplace very far and starting a new life. I mean she finds herself in a completely different era and the man who she loved for so long isn't who she thought he was. Plus the guilt from sharing stuff about gojo, i could imagine she would have a very hard time and it would be interesting to see how sukuna would react if she ended the turmoil for herself in this way. Would he destroy everything in a fit of rage or feel responsible and guilty for her death and stop? Idk i think this could be interesting but i do realise its a quite heavy topic so no worries :)

TW// SUICIDE

This is definitely something that could happen.

Reader was last in the real world 1,000 years ago, the world has changed hugely since then. Sure, they know some things about the new world (curtesy to the students at Jujutsu High and Gojo) but everything’s so new and overwhelming. So starting anew in a world Reader doesn’t know would be daunting and terrifying.

The only consistent person in Reader’s life was Sukuna, but after finding out who he truly is, Reader would become even more lost in this new world. With the realisation and guilt that Sukuna was exploiting Reader’s love to get information about Gojo and then Gojo’s death, everything would shatter.

In every version of the ending, Gojo’s death will always be the tipping point for Reader. He’s helped them so much and was a great guy who only wanted the best for Reader.

I can 100% see Reader being so devastated and overwhelmed that they would end it all.

Sukuna would be absolutely destroyed by Reader’s death, and even more so because they took it themself. He would blame himself for Reader’s death (which it is), and then it would go one of many ways.

Sukuna would become so depressed and ashamed, he would end it all as well.

Sukuna would become so angry about Reader’s death, he would destroy the world, kill everyone and then himself.

Sukuna would carry on with his plan for the perfect future in the name of Reader’s legacy and memory. However, he would never truly be happy as they are not there but he continues to live his life anyway as punishment for pushing Reader towards their demise.

Sukuna would stop all the killing, make amends with everyone and try to become a better being for the sake of Reader. However, he still would be unhappy as his one true love is gone and he will never see them again thanks to his blindness and stupidity.

There are many more possibilities where he lives, but if he does, he would never be truly happy. Reader is the only person he actually cares about and to have them dead is effectively killing Sukuna.

————————————

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[mschievousx]

now and then | b.b.

pairing: benedict bridgerton x ofc

summary: loraine silva always knew she was not normal. she loves unusual things. she loves her father's guns, horses, boxing, climbing a tree, falling from a tree, engineering, astronomy... oh, and a man eleven years older.

series masterlist

xii. twelve: let it go

benedict bridgerton has not left his room for days now. he laid down with his agony, curled on his sheets. his pillow wet in the tears that served as witness of this torment.

most people grieve for those who don't know what they have until it is gone. but, what about those who do know? those who tried their hardest to hold on, yet could only look on helplessly while they lost the thing they loved the most. isn't it so much worse for them?

how many sleepless nights now, he does not know. when they were together, he avoided sleep so he could have more time with her. and now that she is gone, he wishes to sleep more so he might know fewer hours of her absence, and perhaps, spend longer in dreams with her.

it took him days to even talk, forgetting his own voice as he got so familiar with his cries. he wanted to be happy but found it painfully hard as her love was his happiness.

yet, what if love is not here to make us happy? perhaps, it exists to show us how much we can endure.

but benedict did not want to endure anymore.

for the first time in a long while, he was terrified. oh, how terrifying to face the future without the one you planned it with. how can you wake up from a nightmare if you are not asleep?

someone knocked on his door, one that he has recognised as anthony's knuckles by the firmness of the sound. he did not want to stay on his bed forever, so he desperately pushed himself out, trying to see what has been of the others. he neared to open the door slightly ajar before sitting down on a couch defeatedly, his brother surprised by the turning of the knob.

he stepped in, noting the desolateness of the room. he wanted to be there for him, but losing a loved one you were never able to fully love was a different kind of pain—one that anthony was not familiar with at all.

so, he did the only task he was left with. he walked to him, giving the pad he has been holding unto to his younger brother.

"her journal," he maintained his voice in a serene one, seemingly afraid that anything higher would trigger something from the other.

benedict turned to him at that with shock. he did not know she writes. he often thought the girl preferred saying her thought out loud than put it to paper. he opened it, reading from entry to entry, word by word.

a small snicker left his lips when the most he could read about was how the young little silva had fun infuriating him. it was clear on her handwriting—the curve of the letters, the stretch of its end. she was full of excitement when she was writing this. it was written in her point of view. he turned the twelfth page over, only to find that no entry follows anymore.

"why did she stopped writing when she was eight?" he turned to the older, eyes still with traces of redness. it was around the time armand had snitched his daughter to benedict, saying that the girl likes him.

"she said there was no longer a need to write what she felt because she can say it to you directly." anthony offered him a small smile, leaning down to turn the pages to the last, "she wrote on the day she left for the parliament."

the viscount watched as his brother traced each word with his fingers, afraid that it would be lost before he even realises it. noticeably, this one is written in the way her words talked to him directly. anthony placed a hand on his shoulder before stepping back again.

"i guess she knew she could no longer say it to you again."

my artsy,

i think i have loved you since i met you. i just mistook it for curiosity.

there are so many forms of love, and although it may have begun unromantically, i knew you were someone special to me. i would like to apologize—for coming into your life just to break your heart to pieces and leave you in the night.

i really would have loved to be able to attend the astronomical convention with you. we spent a night talking about it. if i knew i will not even get to go, i would have rathered spent the time with my lips in yours.

and so, if regrettably, the gods had it planned that this life of mine will never be enough to show you all my love, i promise—i will find you in another. and hopefully then, i still wouldn't run out of love and continue to pester you on to the next, and next, and for eternity.

because my love, we were never a match made in heaven. i am afraid afraid we are made in both far ends of the farthest cosmos.

and i will search every star, every galaxy, every universe, and every timeline until i find you.

know that i love you, down to my last word.

until we meet again,

forever your loraine

he pushed the pad farther from his eyes, afraid that the ink would smudge and her words can no longer be read. he held his head down, anthony going to his side at once and offered an arm at him.

benedict leaned weakly to him. he had told her before, and now it became his reality. the young lady was a fire—his fire—and he does not find himself worrying even if she will burn him. despite her absence, she still set him ablazed. he longs for nothing but her. how many life does he have to burn before he lives with her? and he could almost hear a whisper.

a hundred more. just a hundred more.

and he almsot felt relieved at that. a hundred more would be nothing. he was even prepared to burn thousands. that was how bewitched he was.

she was lovely—extremely, completely, entirely.

yet, even if it is full of love, all a ghost can do is haunt.

━━━ ✦ ❘ ☽ 【❖】 ☾ ❘ ✦ ━━━

the following day, lady bridgerton could not hold it anymore. her son was spiralling away. she missed him. so, she ascended their stairs, aiming for the room of the said son.

anthony has told her that he was, at the very least, responsive. she did not want her son to be reduced as someone thankfully responsive. benedict has always been full of colors.

he was an art himself.

she knocked, turning the knob and was surprised it was not locked. violet entered slowly, seeing the figure behind a canvas.

she called out to him, "my son, come with us."

there was no response, continuing to walk towards the man. entering the room fully, she could see random sketches of the young silva.

picking up a paper, his mother commented, "she was beautiful."

violet could hear a small hum from her son, still not tearing his gaze away from the art he is currently working on, "she will forever be."

she warmly smiled at that. the son who has repeatedly told her before that what she and edmund had was rare, now utterly taken beyond mortal relations.

she placed an arm around his shoulders for comfort as she took a look at the painting, "you love her so much."

he added a detail on her features, "if i could say it in words, there would be no reason to paint."

her heart broke for his son she almost felt like it was her fault. maybe, that was why the two met each other and loved each other when they were still too young. they were not meant to grow older together.

she placed a peck on top of his head, "will you come out with us soon?"

benedict placed down his brush, exhaling defeatedly. nonetheless, he turned to his mother with a weak smile, "after i finish this."

violet nodded at that before giving him back his solitude. it took quite the days before he completed the artwork. the sun rose and set, yet the stars only dimmed.

on the night he finally finished the painting, the dead of night was clear and the stars began to find their shine once again. a hopeful thought graced his mind.

perhaps, someday, somewhere, at a less miserable time, they will see each other again.

he turned to his table, scrambling to get a paper and pen. he will not let the night go on as if it was just any other night. this darkness shined a light, one he only recognised when the girl was present. and maybe, you can call it a pathetic attempt of hope, it was the young silva watching him as his hand gripped the pen.

my loraine,

i will remember you longer than i knew you, and i will never come to terms with that.

thus, i will find you when you return, even if you are a thousand years late.

give me your permission and i will continue to love you in another. believe that i will run amock across the universe until i find you.

and so, when you see the world ending in the newspapers, trust that it is my work because i still have not met you again.

let us make us happen, some other time.

until we meet again,

forever your artsy

perhaps, they were right in putting love into books and poems—perhaps, it could not live anywhere else. they did say that everything will be fine in the end. and if it isn't, then it is not the end yet.

he has learned that grief is not accepting that she died. it is acknowledging that she is still alive in everything that he does.

and so he hopes—he hopes that all this grief stays with him because it is all the unexpressed love that he did not get to tell her. he will never let this go.

indeed, what is grief if not love persevering.

the pain will remind them of each other. when they meet later, if there is a later, they will recognise each other by it.

and just because this life is painful, it does not mean the next one will be.

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[gryphis-eyes]

⊙ ἀγάπη, for you my true love

× who's your next girlfriend~

♤ Welcome to this pick a card~ im kinda doing this pac to celebrate the fact that im finally at peace with my sexuality (and I think that's exactly why I always feel conflicted about the love pac Ive done in the past lol) but I think we deserve more wlw in pick a cards. The person that will be represented in those piles can either be a cis woman or identify as a woman, Ive included the whole ’female spectrum”. In this pac I'll use the myths surrounding the dragon I'll pick to represent your next girlfriend to channel her personality and life story, hope you'll enjoy

Also it wasn't the intention but i did rant sometimes about myths don't worry i'm angry when it comes to dragon slaying lol

♤ Deck used : "oracle des dragons" by secret d'étoile & Illuminated Tarot (dedicated to Apollon, thanks for the gift of divination ⊙)

little note ; i only used court cards and major arcana, it is better to identify someone.

○ Masterlist

Choose a picture of my wife, Marie ;

♀ Pile 1

【Cards】 Tarasque & Dreki + The Sun

The first thing that came to my mind are those people who are really fond of the image of the divine feminine maybe it's something that trully changed their life and view of themselves for the better. She totaly got the vibe of a fertility goddess maybe she is even worshipping one, this woman truly feels like Hathor or Brigid because i've eard "she is like Hathor but in a forest". Please do take care of this sun goddess, this isn't a sun that burn but a sun who nurture and deliver a comforting warmth. Being blessed by their love is like being a cat laying on its back bathing in a warm sun ray (lucky you).

It's funny because the two dragons that represent your next girlfriend aren't your typical dragons, they both don't have wings, they're peaceful unless disturbed and don't seek conflict (yes im on the side of the Tarasque fuck those peasants) in this oracle they're called Dreki and the author went on their interpretation of them but it's actually referencing to Lindworm who are dragons that are closer to snakes and who aren't dangerous at all as they feed on dead bodies or random animals. But for those two dragons, once they've encountered men Humans they're instantly considered a menace due to their appearance. The Dreki, as described in this oracle is a dragon that is almost invisible due to their closeness with nature and wilderness by that i can imagine that your next girlfirend is probably shy but i do think it's more about reservation wether they started doing it because of how the world treated them or just because it's their nature. Honestly i'm pretty sure that for most of you, your futur girl is so close to nature some are probably witches or at least worship nature or a deity/spirit who represent the element of earth, the forest and fertility (it can go from Artemis to Demeter or just the fairies). She is very patient and nurturing, probably have the cosiest home you'll ever go to or she has the power to make anyone feel cosy, i know she gives wonderful hugs but you have to deserve them because~

Let's get to the Tarasque side, you can consider it a dark side but i honestly think it's something she's grown into, the Dreki feels like their true self while the Tarasque is probably their "outside appearance". In its legend, the Tarasque attacked annyone who came to close to its territory, it was a furious and scary creature many talks about how terrifying she looked. Just with this part of the story i can see how the world have treated this woman, probably pointing fingers at her pointing out anything that made her different or maybe she's just not conventionaly attractive. Of cours the villagers (her whole surrounding) just wanted the dragon to be slain but one day Marthe (it can be you or someone who's a true friend to her) came in the town, she saw the potential of the Tarasque and not just a furious monster of devastation, lady Marthe appeased the Tarasque and treated it gently. Sadly once Marthe bought the Tarasque to the village those stupid monkey brained peasant decided to kill it in vengeance despite the dragon being now tamed and calm (i'll be salty forever by the way apparently this town sucks now SO GOOD FOR THEM)

With this part of the story i can have two scenarios , this is either the story of your meeting so you'll meet her when she will be in a really lonely place, probably stuck in the place that hurted them (because hey it's not that easy to leave). Or they've already been through all of this and now she is far from those people who harmed her but of course it has consequence on her and her personality so she might come off as rude people might even say 'rude' but don't be stopped by their tough exterior, it's not a mask but an actual outside image of them. Kind of like a bear i've heard, some will think about the fact that they're aggressive and dangerous but actually they're quite cuddly and protective, look at interpretation of the Bear card from Lenormand i feel like it does represent your person quite well or simply what bears represent in your belief system.

Be gentle, be patient because it's not a woman whom you can approach just out of curiosity you'll actually have to seek out in the forest to find her in their most natural habitat and who know maybe she'll charm you. la petite fille de la mer just started playing when i got to this part like wow she is so dreamy i feel like she could hypnotise you like the fairy she is~

my best wishes for you and the fairy princess

♀ Pile 1

【Cards】 Ladon & gargouille + The Sun

It's quite funny that you also got the sun to describe your woman but i sense her to be quite far from Pile 1's girlfriend. She strike me as the sun but in the way of Apollon who represent it, she got a bright side that is bold but warm, she inspire a lot of people as much as she intimidate them because Ladon is the dragon (a kind of hydra) who ended up being turned into the dragon constellation (what a star). And just like Apollon she also has a really dark side, a side of the sun that we often forget about, she is a furious & burning star alone but shining on the world both nurturing and devastating. Your girlfriend is kind of a punk i must say, probably very active when it comes to injustice that just make her blood boil. She probably made herself a lot of enemies but she doesn't care, yes she is alone but she is confident in it (tho i can guess that the loneliness can be heavy sometimes) i can also say that a lot of people probably hate her out of jealousy because she is free and independant while other people are probably too insecure to do anything she does. An other thing i got is that she doesn't care about dressing how she want or being provocative in general "just because she can" i've heard, after all gargoyls are made either scary or provocative in order to scare off evil (like the gorgon images) she assume all of her choices and so she doesn't mind any asshole who come up to try to put her down because if she ever falls on the ground she'll get up to go as high as the stars.

In the myth, Ladon has been slayed by heracles (it's an heracles hater account by the way) during his labours but thing is, Ladon's death has been quite the scandal and made the nymph really sad above of that the dragon was protecting the golden apple tree (thank you for being useless heracles). I can interpret this for your futur girlfriend as her being just protective and supportive of other women (the nymph) but probably about minority in general (the apple tree represent multiple things to protect that are all linked togheter), since the nymph adore Ladon to the point of crying its death she is probably quite popular amongs the girls. Now for the heracles part i think we can all imagine what he represent when you think about the image of your futur girlfriend, (cis)men 100% hate her for sure and some might have been pretty violent about it (what can you expect from such primitive creatures after all).

After being slayed, Hera took Ladon's dead body and made it into the now known as the dragon constellation and the nymph all cried the death of the beast. Your girl is alive don't worry i'm not predicting any death ! I can interpret this part of the myth as despite her being put down by abusive figure she has found the right people for her and who helped her being her true self or just going back to her true self after a big trauma (i mostly get woman figure or a group of woman at least). I can also imagine that as her having a big presence only and so a big supportive audience with some haters.

Your girlfriend actually remind me of Marie, the girl i picked for the 3 piles image so maybe you'd find her interesting maybe read her wiki page or read Innocent (her full name is Marie Joseph Sanson) tho be aware it's a quite violent and dark manga it's not for everyone/every age.

♀ Pile 3

【Cards】 Ouroboros & Quetzalcoatl + Judgement

What the hell ? What have you done to pull out some goddess like that i think you'll date a litteral dragon. This woman has experienced high highs and terrible "death moments" i'm definitly getting someone who's into witchcraft/spirituality but not your little crystal collecting girly oh no, here it's someone who's actively practicing it. Think of the women who worship santa muerte or who are following any chtonian or chaotic god or spirits (like dragons why not). This person kind of remind me of a female version of Griffith but before he became the most problematic character on earth. She looks angelic, like a savior she probably gives wonderful advice and help people get out of wild situation she if harsh in her messages if needed but everything she does serves the ouroboros (the cycle of life and death) most people have met her when being in very bad state as she came by to remind them about the cycle of things or just to shake their world a bit so they start moving again. Tho this angel might be a bit lonely since it's probably really hard for her to find people who match her energy, she isn't afraid of her solitude and darkness because she choosed it, she just fly high knowing that one day she'll meet people or at least someone who match her vibe or who is at least not coming to her while beging for help.

This person is a leader and a messenger she is probably really good with divination it might be her go to thing for everyday trial. Quetzalcoalt was against human sacrifice and with the ouroboros i can imagine that your next girlfriend probably have been through a long and painful cycle of self sacrifice, her surrounding has probably preached how wonderful and how you have no choice but sacrifice yourself for the sake of others and that you should just suffer in silence. Your futur girlfriend said no and stood up against this victim mentality because true freedom cannot be attained when being pushed down to the ground by people, her place was amongs the clouds in harmony with the element of air. She come and goes like the wind, i sense that she isn't particulary extraverted but she doesn't have problem when it comes to interacting with people so she probably speak to random people everytime she goes out however she is quite the loner or at least she is really distant from her friend group, maybe she is very different from them so despite getting along she can't fully give herself to her friendship like she wish she could.

Quetzalcoalt has been betrayed in his myth, again i always sense that your girlfriend's life trial has been made into whole cycle so she could observe and live the problem in all its angles. Has amazing as it sound, this person has suffered a lot through those cycles, yes they come out strong and still standing but don't understimate the pain she went or is still going through, after all Quetzalcoalt killed himself with fire and only his heart was left and became the morning star. I can interpret this has your person using their past experience to teach others about life's pain and how to overcome them but sadly no ones does it for her, it's like she is the first one who always step in dangerous zone to be faced with danger so the others don't despite her fighting to stop this "sacrifice cycle".

Despite being strong they probably needs some company to light up their day (wink wink)

⊙

[missmarveledsblog]

Bet on it (Bradley bradshaw x reader ) part 6

summary : the boys try make things right which doesn't go to plan as she is actively avoiding them only for a certain friend and fellow doctor to suggest the two pilots to her boss now she has to ask the two people she wants nothing to do with a favour

warning : slight hurt but other than that its mild part considering the last couple

previous part

“you have got to be fucking kidding me” the words fell out her mouth, looking at the face of the two men who broke her heart , her trust and self esteem all rolled into one . At first it was one of those things were in she thought she was seeing things  like her mind conjured them which would of been better  , it would of been less painful , her heart still mending felt like it was cracking all over again at the mere presence , how two men who brightened her day now  made her feel sick to her stomach .  Marcus stood like he was ready to cry at any moment when she looked his way  . 

“ what are you doing here need some clear up for the bet or is this a new one i’m not  aware of again “ she asked storming over. 

“ we never meant..” 

“ hurt me , humiliate me  , make me think something was wrong with me “ she finished the blonde words . 

“ it was never to hurt you , it was stupid and childish but jake done it because he knew we loved each other” bradley stood forward . 

“I’m going home and i’d suggest you both do the same “ she turned only for him to pull  her back . “ hands off “ she snapped  .

“ please how can we make it right “ jake asked. 

“ go back in time and never speak to me again , that would really help .  Him  i get  but you were my best friend the one i opened up to about everything  now i don’t know if i could ever trust you again , you used my feeling to get some rise out of each other and didn’t think that it would destroy the pawn in this game “  . 

“ it wasn’t to make a joke or ego or any  stupid game we had in the past. I wanted you both see what we clearly in front of you  and now hand on heart i wish i done it different i never meant to hurt you darling  it break my own heart that i did .. a month it went on for  then he came saying it was over he couldn’t do this wrong way  , he wanted it to be real and hell even i was surprised he quit it that early  and i could see he wanted to stop the moment he came back that monday of gala even if he pretended it didn’t or  it never really was a bet it was a shove for you both to finally see the love you both have for each other” jake sighed almost pleading with her to take in his words . 

“ you know  beautiful speech really amazing work i could almost believe you .. you knew everything , you know how i felt , how stupid i felt for feeling it but what you didn’t know is how i felt since i found out the bet … you think i’m just pissed which i am  but its more to that . it fact of the broken trust and love i had for you both  , how it broke everything in me , how much of a joke i was  to even for you both to consider it, how i viewed myself after  was i that hard to love that it was a game to be had  a childish and humiliating situation had me question the worth  i had of myself “ she sniffled not caring if people were looking or if the place was now silent ready to hear what was going on .  “ i’m afraid to make friends ,  i’m finding it so so hard to trust other people because i wait for it to backfire , i’m the outcast of the group because i can open up , i can’t let people in because i’m terrified to be hurt and laughed at … you want my forgiveness well i’m sorry maybe in the future but now the sight of you two alone makes me scared and angry all at one  so please just leave me alone i want nothing to do with your childish rivalry nor do i want to be the pawn in your game” she turned and was gone before they could do anything before they could even begin to let her words sink in . 

“ man she gonna hate me now” marcus whined . 

“ we really fucked up “ jake nodded. 

“ we have twenty nine days to make it up to her, we can’t let this be it “ rooster stood that sick feeling in his stomach growing but fuck was he going to leave the city that never sleeps without righting his wrongs that was damn sure of it. 

It’s a new day ,  A  brand new day  is what she told herself the next morning ,  knowing she couldn’t let this get to her , they’re probably on way back to san diego so what was the point of letting it get to her , taking up headspace that would effect her new everyday life.  She was rebuilding herself and she  needed to think straight need to make the life she dreamt of since she was a little girl , taken so much already it wasn’t taking anymore .  opening her door to see the delivery man standing ready to knock . 

“ delivery for the most beautiful girl and bestfriend” he cringed as the words fell from his lips . 

“ wrong address buddy “ she pulled her shoes on as he was double checking. 

“ no have the right address maybe your boyfriend sent it” he shrugged. 

“ don’t got one look why don’t you have it” she called walking off completely ignoring the mans voice as he called after her.  Heading out into the now busy world , the snow starting to get heavier as she wrapped the coat tightly around her figure and walked . the handy part of it all was the hospital was fifteen minutes away . the sad part of it was seeing the two men she didn’t want standing outside the diner she grabbed breakfast.  She completely ignored the two as she headed straight for work knowing vending machine food was it today .  pretending she didn’t hear them coming her  ignoring their energy knowing she needed level head , she was going to be learning important things before her rounds and  a clear head was needed. 

“Darling?” 

“ baby girl” 

“ fuck off “ she called back flipping the bird , nope not today and not ever was she falling for their tricks . 

It must of been the day in it , she wasn’t only one that seemed off . A lot of the kids seemed to pissed off or fed , Sick of the same shitty entertainer coming to see them and even today he  seemed to be off his  well not good game more so than usual .  balloon animals and swords popping along with awkward apologies before most of the kids gave up and rathered spending time on the ward and their sick  bed than whatever “ show” was going on .   although she stayed because she felt slightly sorry til one of her patients milly spoke up . 

“ dr. mitchell my tummy is really hurting” she winked. 

“ oh .. OHH better get this checked out , great job by the way “she clapped as she walking out the room .  “ thanks kiddo “ she smiled as they walked down the hall  .

“ i wish the hospital got better people that dude is losing it in there and i think he was on verge of tears at one stage” milly winced. 

“ i’ll bring it up when i see the director next i used to find  superheroes and stuff back at my old hospital “ she winked . 

“  anything is better than bill and his show or lack of”

“ wow you new yorker are tough huh?”  y/n snorted .  

“  i think in this situation it’s warranted “ marcus smiled weakly  slightly panting . 

“ i’m still undecided if i’m mad at you or not “ she tapped her chin. 

“ ohh for doctor sweetheart  to me mad what you do dude” milly whispered . 

“ ambushed me with idiots “ y/n rolled her eyes . “ doctor sweetheart? “ she asked. 

“ yeah  well there is three names  doctor sweetheart , princess or sunshine , also idiot how this sound juicy “ . 

“ not for little ears and you are on a warning “ she added leaving marcus letting out sigh of relief and milly huffing. 

As she sat with  everyone talking about the bust of the shitty performer she couldn’t help  miss her old connections wishing she could fly them out and get them to entertain the kids here but sadly she wasn’t making money to do so . 

“ why don’t we get a different entertainment i’m sure a mom or two knows some entertainers willing to do charity work “ one spoke up . 

“  that’s what we have been doing so far and they seem to be getting worse” her boss scoffed.  Dr. daniels didn’t seem to be the one that was won over easy even she couldn’t tell if the man liked her or not. 

“ y/n ..erm doctor mitchell used to gather people in the community  she even had her dad’s navy buddies help out and once it was on social media well it got more to volunteer” marcus spoke up . 

“ that’s good , any stationed here that could help us out “ Dr. daniels looked straight at her as she wanted  the ground swallow her up . 

“ two visiting fighter pilot thingies “ marcus winced as she glared .

“ perfect have them come  in two days , the board is coming too we need to look good or their scrapping the programme “   he stood as everyone eyes widened.  “ starting to show that promise we heard of dr. mitchell “ he added as he walked out. 

“ you have got to be shitting me” she growled . 

“ sorry he both scares and attracts me “ marcus gulped. 

“ i wanted these fuckers go home and now i’ve to ask my ex and my ex bestfriend to help me out” she whined as her head hit the table  and a collective “ oof” went around the room . 

“ i’m sorry “ 

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[ajmasch]

@here4hualian kissmas day 24: a kiss that comes naturally

When Xie Lian was a kid, love seemed so far away. It was a thing for stories and adults to worry about, not for him.

Then, he got a little older, and suddenly it seemed to be the only thing anyone around him talked about. “Such-and-such girl is around the right age…” or “she could be a potential match for the prince’s future wife…” or anything else. Even his oldest friend Feng Xin had seemed to swap gears, now seeming to be intimidated by any girl they passed by where he had normally treated them with indifference.

“It’s just… she was very pretty, don’t you think?” he mumbled when Xie Lian questioned him on the difference.

“I hadn’t really noticed,” was the prince’s reply.

Joining the cultivation sect was a relief in that regard at first, considering abstinence was the basis of its teachings, but then he listened to the other disciples whine and complain about the harsh restrictions that he seemed not to have a problem with. He told himself it was just that he was more dedicated to his training. It didn’t matter that he didn’t feel the same things as others his age, since it just allowed him to dedicate his focus on ascension. Love was unnecessary.

Despite Xie Lian’s stated goal of ascension, until that time, he was still the Crown Prince. That meant finding him a wife was a wide topic of conversation as he grew closer to coming of age. He was pushed to spend more time with ‘suitable’ girls, though it never seemed to go well. He told himself it was because of his cultivation, that he had been trained to resist the charms of women. He pretended he didn’t notice how he always seemed to say the wrong thing or behave in the wrong way.

“So what?” his father said when he tentatively brought the subject up over dinner. “It’s not like you have to be head-over-heels for the girl. As long as you can tolerate her and she gives you an heir, what’s the big deal?”

“Xie-lang…” his mother scolded, and then they started bickering. Xie Lian was seeing them argue a lot more lately. Had they always been like that? He wasn’t sure. A part of him thought they loved each other still, despite it. Another part of him wondered if they had ever loved each other at all. Love was confusing, he decided, and it was hard. He’d much rather put his effort towards something like his cultivation, something that he really cared about, something that made sense.

Then, ascension.

Then, the war.

Then, Bai Wuxiang.

In the rush of becoming a god, then in the chaos of the war, love was the farthest thing from Xie Lian’s mind. He was much too busy, much too focused, much too exhausted. Then, that creature in the half-laughing-half-crying mask appeared and showed Xie Lian: love was nothing except more pain. Because Xie Lian loved his people, he loved his friends, he loved his family, and one by one they were ripped away from him.

Love inevitably ends in heartbreak, so why try? Xie Lian walked away from the spot where a ghost in a smiling mask had sacrificed everything for the love of his god and resolved to never allow himself to feel that pain again.

Then, San Lang.

From the moment Hua Cheng waltzed into his life, Xie Lian knew he was screwed. From his charming smiles, to his sharp intellect, to his cutting humor, he quickly pushed his way past Xie Lian’s defenses.

It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.

It was embarrassing, as Xie Lian realized he was beginning to act how he remembered others around him growing up had acted with the people they had crushes on. Was this love? If so, he had been wrong in the past. This wasn’t confusing or hard, it was so so easy. 

And the first time they kissed without any pretenses, without any hidden feelings, it felt as natural as breathing because somewhere in the last few months, loving Hua Cheng had become a habit. One that he would not break, even though somewhere in the caves nearby Bai Wuxian was lurking, waiting to take it from him.

Maybe it will end in heartbreak, Xie Lian thought as they broke the kiss and continued running, hand in hand. There’s no way to know the future, but whatever happens it’s worth it to have loved him for even a moment.