#five year old me recognized this and i believe me | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

ateliersss · 4 months ago

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Oh, take me back to The Night we met

Pairing: Yautja x Fem!Reader Summary: 1936, eighty-eight years ago, you met him, the creature that changed your life in a way that goes beyond human imagination. Cross-posted on AO3: here Warnings: Attempted Rape, SA, Murder, English isn't my first language Word Count: 10.162 After the Blooming Family series

⇨ Surprise! I hope you are surprised because I was starting to doubt myself. I actually believed I wouldn't even finish it this year. Anyways, I wrote the finishing 6.800 words in the last seven hours and my brain is mush. I hope it didn't affect the pace or logic of the plot. If so, I will edit it in a few days. Comments are always appreciated.

⇨ Also, if you tell me I wrote an unrealistic reaction to seeing a Yautja's face for the first time, let me tell you, you and I wouldn't be here if I hadn't reacted the same.

1936, Earth

"Thank you, ma'am." The soldier in front of you returned your identity card, the national animal printed on it facing you.

You returned his bright smile with a tight one. You were already used to identifying yourself to patrolling soldiers after work. It was for "safety measures", according to the government.

While you were busy putting away your identity card, the boy looked nervously over his shoulder to his comrade who nodded back to him, encouraging him to finally man up and just tell you what he had rehearsed a dozen times already to eventually make a move on you and ask you out.

"A-And thank you for your service, ma'am!" He blurted out, louder than he intended to, with a soft blush covering his cheeks.

You closed your purse and looked up at him in confusion.

The boy, you now noticed, had to be at least five years younger, probably around the same age as your younger brother, Emil. And you recognized him now, too. He was patrolling around this area two to three times a week.

At your confused face, he gestured a little awkwardly to your uniform, the white dress and blue-grey blouse underneath it. "D-Doctors and nurses are in desperate need in times like these a-and saving lives is a remarkable job!"

"Oh." You looked down at yourself before you pulled your coat tighter around your body and smiled softly at him. "If that's all, I'll take my leave now. Have a good night, gentlemen."

He visibly deflated at your words and mumbled a quick "Have a nice evening, ma'am." but you barely got half of it when you turned around to continue your way back home. The second your back was facing them, your smile dropped.

You hated it, hated this, this so-called life you and everyone around you had to live. Horrible and disgusting things were happening, but no one dared to speak up. You were all trapped, too scared to act, too afraid to do something.

And the people could feel it, the tension that was stretched so tautly that was just waiting to snap. The whole world was holding its breath, deferring that one moment when the match would ignite and reduce everything and everyone to rubble and ash.

Meanwhile, your brother was beaming with pride as he was now considered old enough to join the army and could finally fight for his country. On the other hand, your father, the only other family you still had in this world, was far more reluctant when it came to the plans of the government and his son's naive blindness of patriotism.

No one was talking about the horrifying wrongs your home country was doing for years now, but everybody knew, everybody saw. And if someone even dared to utter a word about it, they disappeared.

That didn't stop your father from ranting about it behind the closed doors of your home. He did so, of course, in Emil's absence. He was family, yes, but nowadays blind obedience could manipulate even a brother and son to go against his own kin.

You loved your brother dearly. He was a good guy and he only held a very strong pride for his home, his people, and his culture. But sadly that was the only thing he acknowledged around others. He denied the "rumors" of a genocide going on and overlooked unintentionally the more sinister motives of others in the world of politics and the military. He was truly and utterly blind, but you couldn't condemn him for that. Not really.

The Great War ended when Emil was three years old and you remembered him crying when your father told him he couldn't participate in it anymore. Ignorant of the horrors that happened at the Front, he and a few boys from around the neighborhood would play war and were disappointed when they were told it was over. The worst part was the elder men sitting on benches near their battlefield, telling them their people were the superior power since they had been able to hold their own against three opposing countries in the end.

You sighed and started to fumble around in your purse for your keys as you reached your destination. After a quick look into the mailbox — the usual evening newspaper and another flyer that encouraged men between the ages of twenty and forty-five to sign up for the military — you made your way up to the first floor and poked around in the lock with the key, a little distracted by the newspaper as you were searching the headlines for anything concerning. There was another report about a skinned man found hanging upside down from a church tower. Unbelievable. At times like this and there was a maniac running around, killing people in the most grotesque way for fun.

"I'm home!" You called into the dimly lit hallway, knowing your father was sitting in his usual spot in the living room.

After dropping your purse next to the wardrobe, toeing out of the white pumps, shrugging off the coat, and hanging it on the coat rack, you walked through the corridor and past five doors. The ones leading to the bathroom and the kitchen were open as always, just like the door of Emil's bedroom. Although it hadn't been inhabited for a few months now, you would always leave it open after cleaning. It was false reassurance, but that way it seemed as if he was still home.

"How was your day?" Your father asked gruffly from his spot on the wing chair, the morning newspaper still in his hand before it got replaced by the evening issue you handed to him with a kiss to his temple.

"It was…"

Screams.

Blood.

Wails of a newborn.

A cold body.

"…long."

"Mhm." Your father hummed, his eyes scanning the front page before turning it. "Hah! Sightings of another black cloud of smoke and the authorities tell the public another farmhouse burned down. Do they think we are stupid? Unbelievable these people! Think they will get away with it, hiding it from the public eye, and no one would notice!"

You weren't entirely sure if he had even listened to you, but you didn't care. You weren't very eager to start a conversation with him anyway.

"I'm in my room. Call me if you need anything, okay?"

Though you didn't expect a response, you waited a few seconds — maybe today he would ask if his son had finally sent a letter — before you turned around to retreat to your room.

Since your father had lost his legs in a bomb attack at a munitions factory where he had worked during the Great War, he had changed. A lot. Before, he was quite a gentle and jovial man who worked hard and never shied away from showing how much he loved his family. Nowadays, he was resentful and bitter towards everything happening around him.

It was exhausting, not only listening to his complaints day in and day out but also being nothing more than a maid and caregiver to him. You were the sole breadwinner in this house. You worked yourself to the bone in a business that was equally about life and death but gave you more grief than joy. At least it made the medical care of your father a little easier. The surgery, the medicine, and the wheelchair would have cost you a fortune.

When you would get off work, more would await you at home. Taking care of the household was your responsibility for nine years now since your father wasn't capable of doing it anymore. After the first week of dusting and sweeping, washing the dirty laundry and ironing the clean ones, going grocery shopping and cooking, as well as taking care of your father like washing him, helping him get to the toilet, and such, you cried yourself to sleep with the thought of quitting and running away.

But you didn't.

You were miserable, yes, but you stayed. You stayed with the hope of a better life in the future. Maybe you will be married to a nice man in a few years like your girlfriends already were. You had experience with men, sure, but none of them you would consider fit to be your husband.

In your bedroom, you quickly got rid of your uniform until you were only in your undergarments, a baby-blue silk panty that flowed around your mid-thighs and an uplift brassiere of the same fabric and color, both with a lacy hemstitched design. You were about to throw the white and grey-blue dress into your other dirty clothes when you noticed red speckles on the left sleeve.

Yes, the day had been long, too long for your taste, and when your shift did end, you felt hollow once more. You could still see her in that bed, screaming and crying.

Watching her, you had wondered if you would ever end up like her.

You shifted in your place, second-guessing before you finally turned and looked at your reflection in the mirror that occupied one corner of your bedroom. You hesitantly lifted your hands and placed them on your belly.

No. Your job showed you women struggle and in pain every day. You would never do that to yourself. Being a mother was not worth the probability of taking your last breath during labor, giving your own life while granting another to your child.

Today was another reminder of that.

The girl in the delivery room, Johanna, was sweet and lively. You met her occasionally on a monthly check-up when you assisted the doctor who took her into his care. She would tell you about her and her husband trying for this baby for years and how excited she was.

You bit the inside of your cheek when tears once again started to well up in your eyes when you thought of how helpless you had felt when you stood in that room. Your colleague, an older and more experienced woman, was holding the crying newborn in her arms. The doctor was doing his all to save the unsavable while Johanna's body got colder as the dark red spot grew bigger on the white linen of the bed.

Today had shown you once again that you would never let something like that happen to you.

"You have to incise into her abdomen."

Not ever.

"No!"

Not in a million years.

"No, Mi'ytiar… you have to, you have to."

You would never put someone else's life before yours, not even the one of your never-going-to-happen baby.

"Save our baby. Forget me… ju-just save our son… please."

Sighing, you got ready for bed. You were far too tired this evening to get anything done. The laundry had to wait until tomorrow and your father probably already had eaten, so there was no need to get to the store. For now, you needed to stop thinking.

A whole week passed and you had followed your everyday routine like every other day. Occasionally, when you walked past the room where Johanna had delivered her baby and made her husband a widower, you paused and stared. Instead of the freshly made bed and the stark white linen, you saw her dying as she bled out. You saw the doctor, yourself by his side and the nurse holding the baby at the foot of the bed.

You jumped when you felt a hand on your shoulder and you turned to see said nurse smiling pitifully at you.

"You are still there, right?" She asked softly, her eyes scanning your face.

You swallowed and nodded. "It's like that every time I come here. I don't know why. She's not the first I watched dying during childbirth."

The elderly woman patted your cheek and guided you away from the delivery room by the crook of your arm, pulling you away from the sorrowful abyss before you could drown any deeper in it.

"You liked her, that's why." She started, "I had a Johanna, too. A long, long time ago. Although she was a lot younger, she was just as excited to be a mother. Poor thing died just like her baby."

You gasped and now it was you who looked with pity at her. "Why?"

"The baby was stuck." The older nurse sighed, "She pushed and pushed and tore. By the time the doctor started to cut her open, she died of internal bleeding." She had to clear her throat before she continued, "The baby died with her. A little boy. He got himself tangled up in the umbilical cord."

You turned your gaze from her face down to the ground and watched your feet walk an unknown route. Swallowing down your tears, you forced yourself to concentrate on not stumbling over your own feet.

You did like Johanna. You had empathized with her, even though children would never be part of your life. She had just wanted a baby, a part of her and the man she loved united in one body, and all that she got was death. She hadn't deserved it. At least the thought that she might be together with her baby in heaven now, thanks to her belief in God, soothed your heart a little.

"Go home, (Y/N)." The elderly nurse interrupted your train of thought.

Looking up, you saw her holding up your purse and coat. Apparently, she had led you to the lounge where the doctors and nurses spent their lunchtime.

"But I still have six hours to go." You tried to argue but bit down your lower lip when she shook her head.

"If someone should ask for you, I will tell them you didn't feel well and that I sent you home. There are certain benefits as the head nurse." She winked at you, pushed your belongings into your hands, and shooed you in the direction of the exit.

"I promise I will feel better tomorrow." You called over your shoulder and waved at her, giving her one last smile before you shrugged on your coat and left.

Thirty-two minutes later, you got off the bus and turned around the corner into your street, your purse dangling back and forth on your wrist. With your extra five hours, maybe you could finally start that book on your bedside table if your dad wouldn't find any reason to turn your attention to him.

Feeling slightly more cheerful, you walked a little faster, already searching for the key. Like always, you checked the mailbox — nothing again — before you hopped up the one flight of stairs to your apartment, the sound of your heels on the wood filling the otherwise silent staircase.

The noise seemed to attract the woman living across from you because you barely reached the top of the stairs when she ripped her door open and stared at you with wide eyes.

You paused and looked at her in concern. "Mrs. Walter? Is everything okay?" You asked and carefully inched closer to her.

For several moments, you didn't get an answer. Only when you opened your mouth to ask her again did she slowly lift her trembling arm and point past you at something you could not see.

Strange. The only thing back there was your apartment door, so…

The slamming of Mrs. Walter's door barely reached your ears when you turned around. All you could hear was eerie silence, not Mrs. Walter quickly putting her distance between her and the door, not the dog barking from above you that got awakened by the slamming door, not the traffic noises outside.

The door that you diligently locked every morning before you got to work and unlocked every evening when you returned home hung on its hinges. In quick strides, you reached it and ripped off the note that was nailed into the wood under the peephole. Your eyes scanned over the words as you pushed the door open and entered the apartment.

A search was carried out here due to a tip-off of a conspiracy against the country and its people. All residents are requested to report immediately...

Tears clouded your view and made it impossible to make out the rest of the words. But there was no need to. You already knew what you needed to know. Your father was dead, no questions asked, no evidence to prove that he was innocent or guilty, no interference by the judiciary. He had dug his own grave since he started to badmouth and criticize the current sins committed by the government.

You slowly navigated your way through your destroyed home, your hands supporting yourself against the wall, careful not to get caught in something with your pumps. You had to duck under the big shelf close to the entrance of the living room. It was tilted to the side so that the upper part was now leaning against the other side of the wall. Everything that had ever been placed onto it — pictures, plants, certificates, and other little knick-knacks — was now scattered on the floor.

It got even worse in the living room. Everything had been turned upside down. Your father's chair was thrown to the side just like the couch and the coffee table. The books from the huge bookshelf that covered the length of the smallest wall in here were pulled out and tossed on the floor, pages ripped out and strewn on the floor. Pictures were taken from the walls and the glass crunched as you stepped over them. Dirt was covering the floor as if someone had been digging in the soil of the potted plants. The carpet was overturned, partly thrown onto the couch, and revealed the wooden floor it usually covered.

Your living room had been thoroughly searched and you doubted the rest of your home looked any different.

In a daze, you carelessly let your purse drop to the floor and shuffled to your bedroom. Opening the door, you were greeted with a view you had expected — your bed was tilted to the side, clothes from your closet were now scattered on the floor, and your mirror was lying face down on the floor.

When you saw the pictures of you and your family carelessly thrown into the corner, you couldn't hold the sob in any longer. You sank to your knees, curled into a ball, and cried to your heart's content with your eyes squeezed shut.

You lost your mother at a young age, lost your father for the first time after his accident, lost your brother to the country, and now lost your father for the second and final time. Now, you were wholly and utterly alone. Not for long, though. If you didn't come forward and turn yourself into a possible fair trial in the next sixteen hours, you would be taken just like your father and die the same way he did.

Your breakdown had been apparently so nerve-wracking and tiring that when you opened your eyes, it was dark inside your room and outside your window. Groggily, you propped yourself up and looked around, disappointedly ascertaining that you hadn't been dreaming at all. Your eyes scanned your room, still a little out of it, until you spotted your clock on the wall, surprisingly intact. 9:24 PM. Now you had less than ten hours left.

How would you spend your last ten hours in freedom? You didn't know, but you for sure wouldn't do it in here. You needed to leave.

As quick as you could you switched your nurse uniform to a skirt and your favorite blouse, fixed your make-up and your hair to look less like a mess and more like the respectable woman you usually were, and left the apartment after putting on your shoes, coat and grabbed your purse. At first, you strolled around with no real destination in mind, but the darker it got the higher the risk of being stopped by a patrolling soldier.

You had enough money with you to occupy yourself with a few drinks, so why not enjoy yourself, let a little loose? You never really got the chance to try it out. Your job unironically prevented you from unnecessarily damaging your liver and you had the responsibility to take care of your family. Your girlfriends always invited you on girl's night, but sadly, you had to decline almost every time, be it your father or another night shift forced upon you. They had another planned on the weekend in a few days, the first one in a very long time you would have had time for. Not anymore. When they would sit around a table and share the newest gossip, you had already started to rot away in a mass grave.

You entered the first, non-shady-looking bar and plopped down on one of the bar stools on the right. When the bartender finally took notice of you, all he needed to do was to take in your gloomy figure pitifully slumped in your seat to grab a glass and fill it with a brown liquid. No words were spoken — you didn't feel like it and he noticed that — as you grabbed the glass, tossed the liquor back, and placed the now empty glass back down. The alcohol, whatever it was, burned like hell and you couldn't help but cough, tears forming in the corner of your eyes. The bartender, meanwhile, wordlessly filled your glass again and without any hesitation, you emptied that one too.

You spend almost four hours like that. Losing count after your sixth shot, your head started to feel funny, like the world around you was spinning too fast. You mused what your life would have been like if your mother hadn't died when you were just nine years old, if your father hadn't lost his legs when you were seventeen, if your brother had chosen a normal job at your current age. You could have grown up like any normal girl, could have joined your friends more often to hang out, could have started going on dates again after your last boyfriend dumped you for neglecting him.

And what about your future? What about the man you wanted to marry in a few years? Every day, you daydreamed of someone who would just sweep you away in his arms and take you far, far away from here. There had to be a place somewhere where you could live your life in peace without a brewing war and the constant fear of death. You waited for someone who would make your life easier than it currently was, who would take the weight from your shoulders and not add some more on them every single day. Someone who loved you passionately and would spoil you after nine years of labor where you worked yourself to the bone. Someone who would take charge and let you rest when you needed it. Someone who was the other half of your soul that hopelessly awaited to be rejoined with its counterpart.

When you reached out to your glass for the nth time, a hand softly clasped your wrist. Looking up, you saw the bartender giving you the same pitiful look you had received for God knows how often today, from your colleague at the hospital to some of the other patrons who entered and left the bar during the last few hours.

"I think you should get home." He said firmly and pulled his hand away.

No longer being hindered, you lifted the glass up to your lips and emptied it in one go. "I no longer have a home." You dully answered, your speech a little slurred.

"We close in a few minutes." He tried another route, anything to get you to stop drinking.

He may not be interested in what personal business you have to drink yourself under the table, but even he wouldn't let a young woman like you do that to herself.

"Fine." You mumbled, grabbed your purse, and searched for the money that was stored somewhere in there. You hummed when you finally found it and without looking at it, you dropped it down on the counter. "Here."

You held onto the sleek surface of the bar to lift yourself up and from your seat, supporting your whole weight with one hand while you needed several attempts to grab your coat. Not bothering to put it on, you turned to leave and even you were surprised that you could still walk in a (more or less) straight line.

"Hey, you paid too much!" The bartender called from behind you.

Not bothering to stop or turn around, you simply proclaimed, "Keep it. Where I go I won't need it." and pushed the entrance door open.

Outside, you tilted your head up, closed your eyes, and took a deep breath of the cool night air. It instantly freshened you up and cleared your mind a little. Looking left and right along the sidewalk, you decided to take the left and began strolling wherever it was taking you, once again with no actual destination in mind. You had no idea what time it was, but you guessed you had around five or six hours left. If you're lucky and didn't get held up by some patrols, you could visit the park one last time where your parents, Emil and you would hold a picnic every summer when you were younger. It would only take you ten minutes on foot. It wouldn't hurt to visit the place that held so many good childhood memories and bask in them in your final hours.

You were walking for a mere two minutes when you heard a whistle from your right. Halting your steps, you turned your head to the side and looked over to the source. There, on the other side of the street, were two men sitting on a bench and two standing around them. One was holding a beer bottle while the others were smoking their cigarettes.

"Hey, pretty lady." The one with the beer bottle called over to you and lifted it to toast to you.

You quickly snapped your head back forward and continued on your way, your strides bigger and faster to create as much distance between you and them as possible.

When you thought you were safe, you felt a hand clasping your wrist whose owner pulled you back and against his strong chest.

"Hey, hey, hey." The voice of the man with the beer bottle breathed against your ear, sending an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. "Don't be shy. We were just celebrating my friend's promotion." To your horror, he put his hands on your hips and turned you both to his three companions who had seemingly followed him, all of them wearing leering grins. "Why don't you join us, hm? We could need a little entertainment." He murmured against your neck, his breath reeking of alcohol.

Before he could place his lips anywhere close to your skin, you struggled out of his grip and stumbled a few steps away from him. "I-I'm sorry, but I need to go home. I'm already late."

The man who seemed to be the leader of the bunch stepped closer to you, smirking when you accidentally walked right into one of his friends. The guy immediately held you against him, keeping you in place.

"I think you could spare a couple of minutes." The leader said firmly and reached for your blouse.

Fear seemed to be a great way to quickly sober one up because the next thing you did was stomp down on the foot of the man that was holding you, your heel hitting his toe perfectly, causing him to let you go with a cry in pain and a curse. Next, you rammed your knee into the crotch of the man in front of you and when his body doubled over, you pushed him to the side and bolted down the sidewalk.

Not daring to look back, you sprinted as fast as you could, but the alcohol made it hard to keep balance, not to mention the nausea that bubbled up in your stomach. But you ignored it and tried to keep it down when you heard their calls from behind you, coming closer and closer.

This was not how you wanted to spend your last night, this was not how you imagined it. Tears clouded your view and you narrowly escaped the grabby hand of whatever guy that was closest to you when you ducked down and sharply took a left turn into an alley.

Unbeknownst to you, you were being watched.

The next thing you felt was hard concrete as you fell forward when a heavyweight collided with your back. You cried out in pain when you hit your head, then hysterically screamed in panic when you felt hands on your skirt and you started kicking around, not caring if you hit something or not. You heard a grunt when your heel finally made contact with the shoulder of one of them, but you barely had time to bask in your little victory when a punch to your face almost knocked you out cold. Your body went instantly slack, a long-winded groan leaving your mouth.

"Move your ass and hold her down." The voice of the leader sounded from somewhere above you. "And turn her around. I like to watch their face when they give up."

Hands turned you on your back as your screams and cries accompanied your attempts to fight their hands off.

"No… please no." You begged as your wrists were pinned above your head by a pair of rough hands. "No!" You screamed louder, in a high-pitched, panicking voice when your blouse was ripped open, your brassiere following suit, and your chest got groped by a calloused hand.

You squeezed your eyes shut when you felt an eager mouth around your nipple, harshly sucking on it while your breasts were still in a painfully hard grasp. You tried to gather your last strength, the drinks earlier and then the hit to your head from the fall tempted you to just fall unconscious, but you bucked your body up in hopes you could throw whoever was above you off of you.

Only you couldn't move. Someone was straddling your thighs, hindering you from moving.

You finally forced yourself to open your eyes and the blurry image of the leader pushing up your skirt presented itself in front of you.

"Stop, please! Help!" You started screaming again, causing the leader to sigh in annoyance.

"Could you please shut her up, for fuck's sake? I'm trying to enjoy myself here." He growled at the guy who was holding your hands down, his patience growing thinner with every passing moment he wasn't able to force himself inside you. "When I'm done with her, you get what's left of her."

"No, no, no..." You wailed when you heard the clinking of his belt and a zipper being opened, but you soon got silenced when a palm pressed down on your mouth.

Rather than keep watching him, you closed your eyes in defeat, now only feeling how he moved closer to your crotch, his fingers pushing your underwear aside, and positioned himself against your entrance.

A dull thud behind your attackers stilled them for a moment, but a raging roar got them to whip around. You kept your eyes squeezed shut, not wanting to see whatever feral animal was going to maul you and those men.

A scream, something wet splashing on you and something, someone, heavy landing on top of you got you to finally open your eyes again. You stared right into a gaping hole where the head of a person normally should be. Maybe it was the shock of almost ending up left on the ground in this alley, covered in bruises, blood and bodily fluids after they were done with you, that kept you from screaming.

In a daze, you pushed the corpse off of you and looked down at your body. It was covered in blood, parts of a splattered brain, and white fragments that had been the skull of the leader of the group. His head had burst into pieces. No animal could have done that and no human either. There was no weapon on earth with that much destructive power, so what…

With slow eyes, you looked up from your soiled legs. The guy now lying dead next to you had been obscuring the view of a large creature standing no more than three meters across from you.

Whatever it was, it seemed livid. Its body was heaving with wrathful breaths and its long fingers were twitching, clenching into fists before relaxing them again. Its massive form was hidden by darkness and you could barely make out its silhouette.

It felt like an eternity with you just staring at the creature and it (probably) staring right back. The other assaulters, two of whom had fallen to the ground in shock with the sudden attack on their leader, hadn't dared to move a muscle. Maybe they were in a trance just as you were, not for the same reason, of course.

"H-Hey!" The fourth guy squeaked, breaking the tension that seemed to suffocate the whole alley. "Wha-"

In a practiced, seemingly effortless movement, the creature whipped out its arm, and something silvery shot out of the darkness. It wrapped around the throat of the man, choking him and sending him to his knees. He was clawing his neck and tried to remove what seemed to be a whip made out of sleek silver and grey material.

You watched him as he desperately tried to free himself and blood started to flow from where the whip was wrapped around his neck down to his shirt, turning the light blue fabric deep red. Your eyes then traveled along the bladed chain, you now noticed, to the other end of it, and found the large creature moving towards you.

If you would have been able to make a sound, you would have, but you were still too out of it that no noise escaped your bloody lips when you were finally able to distinguish your savior.

It was indeed huge, a massive body that was dwarfing any human being you could think of. Its appearance was bizarre. Its feet and calves up to its knees were in unusual boots made out of metal instead of leather with an interesting design. You wondered if it was the skin of the creature or if it was wearing a net-like cloth that was visible on every body part that wasn't hidden beneath armor like the chest plate that bled over into a full sleeve of its arm. It was covering the left side of its chest but not enough to conceal a rather fit upper body. You found yourself staring a lot longer at the well-defined, almost sculpted abs of it. It was no doubt a male.

As you were eyeing the creature up, he yanked on the whip. You were only aware of a dull thud when the bladed chain cut off the head of the man who had been in its hold.

You didn't register when more blood sprinkled on you as you were too busy trying to imagine a face underneath that strange mask. With his green, brownish, and beige reptilian skin, the long black tendrils sprouting from the head, the long claws, and the animalistic posture, he was, without a doubt, not human.

An arm wrapping around your throat from behind, preventing you from breathing evenly, brought you back to reality. You immediately put up a fight, scratching it and pulling on the arm in hopes he would let go.

It was one of the attackers that had fallen to the ground when the creature had appeared. He must have scrambled over to you when his last companion was foolishly enough to run up to the murderous beast, trying to do something quite laughable, only to be impaled by a spear and was now hanging on the wall to the right like he was a portrait above a chimney, the spear rammed through the brick of the apartment building.

The idiot behind you thought the creature would let him go if he was holding you hostage as if he wasn't going to kill the both of you just like his buddies. So foolish, you internally sighed.

"S-S-Stop! I'm warning you!" He screamed at the towering figure which was closing in on you. "I will… I will kill her!"

The creature stopped a few steps away from you and reached behind his back. Quicker than your eyes could keep up, his hand shot forward and he threw something of the size of an orange at the man.

Yelling, the man loosened his grip, his instincts kicking in to fight against whatever was sticking to his forehead. In his struggle, he fell on his back and started rolling around on the floor when the little device made a strange wiring noise. His body went stock still when he was engulfed in a net, restraining him. Then the man screamed bloody murder when the wiring noise grew louder and the device pulled the net tighter around him.

You turned to him, only to see the strings cutting into his skin, drawing blood, until only pieces of his body were left of him, leaving him unidentifiable to whoever would find him and his friends.

Now, it was only you in that alley. You, the beast that saved you and the bloody massacre, turning the place into an image of horror.

You were going to get sick if you stared at what had been a living and breathing human once any longer. Rather than wanting to face the creature when it was going to kill you, you turned back around and then startled back. Said beast was crouching in front of you, the head cocked to the side.

He reached out a clawed hand and you closed your eyes, preparing yourself for whatever gruesome death he had planned for you. You thought back to everything you had achieved in your life, every person that was still dear to you, said goodbye to every place you loved to visit, to the movie you had wanted to watch in a week with a friend, to the unread book on your bedside table and every dream you had wanted fulfill — you had actually planned to do that in a few hours. At least he was going to give you a quick death and not whatever the authorities had done to your father.

Something poked your cheek.

Your eyes snapped open and you were met with a closer view of the strange mask covering the creature's face. His hand was outstretched and a finger was prodding your skin. A strange noise was coming from behind the mask, something you could only describe as a rumbling purr.

You stayed still, afraid if you would only move a muscle, it would set the creature off and let him drag his clawed finger up to your temple where a trail of blood had started to run from the wound you got from the fall. You hissed in pain when the pad of his thumb stroked — probably unintentionally hard — over your lower lip, the rough skin touching where it was busted. He pulled its thumb away only to replace it with the back of his pointer and middle finger to caress your jaw and down to your throat. The touch caused you to swallow which he most likely could feel. Only when you felt the scaly sensation on your skin dip too deep, too far beneath the ripped remains of your blouse, you gripped his wrist.

The creature's head snapped up where it had followed his exploration. You flinched back at the sudden movement and quickly loosened your hold on his wrist, pulling it away like you had burnt yourself.

"I'm sorry." You whispered, your voice hoarse.

What if you had just signed your death? What if you touching him like that had triggered him? What if he thought you were a threat now? What if he thought of it as highly offensive? What if he was going to kill you now? What if-

A low thump caused you to flinch when he hit the left side of his chest with his right fist. With parted lips, you looked from his fist up to his masked face and then back again, confused, both at the gesture and the lack of aggression towards you. Almost as if he could understand the look on your face, he repeated the action with a little more determination after he inched closer to you. You were more focused on his sudden closeness, daring not to move back, but you hastily turned your gaze down to his fist. It was a little hard to concentrate on what he was trying to tell you after the vast change of demeanor — from murdering in cold blood to trying to… communicate with you?

"You?" You tried hesitantly.

It really was your best guess on what he could mean.

A soft growl reached your ears from underneath his mask, making you tense up but relaxed in relief the second his attention turned to his forearm. You watched in curiosity as his clawed pointer finger ghosted over the armor-like wristband that started flashing in a bright red and made strange beeping noises like when a caller on the other line hung up before you could. Your mouth opened without you even noticing. You had never seen something like it, probably no one ever had. How was it functioning without cables like your telephone and radio did?

"Are you telling me you are married?"

You jumped back a little when a male voice chimed from his wristband.

"To a cup of tea, I will never say no."

"I can't believe you put the jar in the oven!"

You looked at him in astonishment as more voices sounded from his forearm. Human voices.

He kept repeating the same three sentences, but they seemed to get shorter with every replay.

“-telling me you are… telling me… me.”

"-a cup of tea… tea."

“-you put the jar in the… you put the jar… the jar… jar.”

He seemed to be satisfied as he let out a deep, low-pitched chirp before he played the cut and put together word snippets to you, his head facing you now.

“Me-tea-jar.” He hit his chest once again before playing the word again. “Me-tea-jar.”

"Meetja?" You tried the word, tried how it felt on your tongue.

He let out a deep grumble before he played the same word again and leaned even closer to you.

“Me-tea-jar.”

"M-Meetiar. Mi'ytiar."

With his head slightly cocked to the side, he tilted it forward in a one-movement nod as if to say, "Now you got it." and his fist hit his chest one last time.

"You. Mi'ytiar. T-That's your name?" You asked and hoped you put the puzzle pieces together correctly.

Another nod before he pointed at you.

"Oh." You softly said, shifted your hips slightly, and nervously placed a hand on your own chest. “(Y/N). I'm (Y/N)."

“(Y/N).” Your voice sounded from his forearm when he touched his wristband. “(Y/N).”

You couldn't help the small smile and you nodded. "Yes. (Y/N)."

The creature — Mi'ytiar — lowly grumbled in appreciation and you breathed out the air you had been holding in your lungs with a laugh. You couldn't believe you talked, more or less, to something that undoubtedly didn't belong on earth while you were surrounded by death after being spared from something that would have scarred you for life just because you had been out drinking to have one last night in freedom until you would follow your father in an early grave. Your life really had taken a strange turn in just a few hours.

"What are you?" You asked him and tilted your head to the side.

"Hunter." He communicated with the help of his wristband.

"Where do you come from?"

"Sky."

"Sky." You repeated the child's voice and looked up.

So he came from the sky. You wondered if he meant the clouds or maybe the moon. It could be the stars for all you knew. Was he the only one living there, or were there more? Maybe one like him lived on each star the night sky had to offer.

As you were looking up in thought, Mi'ytiar took his time to admire you. You were, what you humans would use, adorable. He didn't hunt humans very often as they weren't much of a challenge, but sometimes he would visit earth out of curiosity. Your kind was interesting and his ancestors had been quite fond of them when they used them to breed their prey centuries ago. Humans have continuously developed from then to now, so it was fascinating to watch.

Like he watched you now. He admired your wide eyes, the curve of your nose, and your rosy cheeks that displayed the dried tear streaks of panic and fear. He admired the shape of your lips and the cut that had caused you pain when he touched it. He admired your shiny hair that had once been pulled up in a neat bun but was now hanging loosely and messily around your face, framing it like it was a piece of art. He admired your small, shaking hands that were desperately holding the ripped-open blouse together, protecting your modesty and the naked skin of your trembling shoulders when the fabric had slipped down to your biceps. You had been so incredibly warm and soft when he had touched what you were hiding now.

A quiet hiss got you to look back at him and you watched with uncertainty as his fingers first pulled on the one tube that was connected to his mask and then the other before he removed it anxiously slow. You mentally prepared yourself for the most horrific sight of your life, but when the top half of his face was laid bare, you sucked in a breath. It wasn't the foreign shape of his head, the texture of his skin, or the spiky triangle-shaped bumps that circled the sides and the back of his head like a crown, clearly dividing where the roots of his hair ended and his face started. It was his eyes, though an abnormal orange, that was salient and captivating you. They didn't look like what your wildest fantasies had to offer, but they somewhat seemed almost human — a black pupil surrounded by an orange iris. And not just any orange. It was the kind of orange that stretched across the sky at every sunrise and sunset. The only difference you spotted from your own eyes was that he had a black sclera instead of a white one.

You would have gotten lost in them if he hadn't removed the mask fully, so his lower face was showing too. You wouldn't exactly describe it as terrifying, but the sight of his mouth was, to say it simply, unnerving. It was hidden behind four tusks that represented his mandibles. You were fascinated when he suddenly made a clicking noise but were taken aback when he extended the fleshy texture to reveal two rows of teeth. It was like he had two jaws, one when the mandibles were retracted to his face and one when they were extended and showed his actual mouth. His upper jaw held three teeth with two larger fangs on each side, his lower jaw held the same amount only were they a little thinner, so his fangs wouldn't hinder his mouth from closing.

Even after the initial shock subsided, you wouldn't exactly use the word pretty, but there was something about him. Thrilling and particular, astounding and intriguing, but also alluring.

The longer you looked at him, at Mi'ytiar, the more accustomed you got to his appearance.

Another clicking sound reached your ears and you stopped mapping his features with your eyes, only now realizing how he looked down at you with his head tilted to the side. When you mumbled his name, almost as if it took all your courage, he straightened up and his eyes snapped to your hand that had loosened its grip on your blouse. He followed its movement, getting closer to his face, and when you turned your hand so your palm was facing him, his own hand reacted fast and grabbed your delicate wrist.

Bad idea, real bad idea, you thought. He wasn't exactly hurting you, but his grip wasn't exactly soft.

Instead of tugging against his hold in an attempt to free yourself that would obliviously fail, you let your arm go slack. Instead of panicking, you remained calm. Instead of screaming at him to let you go, you kept your mouth shut and waited for his next move. If you triggered him in any way, he would surely kill you.

Mi'ytiar, on the other hand, was amazed by you and in awe. He wouldn't be the first Yautja to be enthralled with a human in this kind of way, sure, but he hadn't expected to be one of them one day. You were extraordinary in the way you looked at him, didn't mind the proximity he had put you in, and apparently seemed to seek for it.

Contrary to what you believed, he pulled your hand closer to his face by the wrist, causing you to move from your side-sit on the floor to get on your knees. Your lips parted in surprise when he pulled his mandibles in and he himself brought your hand up to his cheek.

The sensation underneath your touch was unusual and new. His cheek wasn't like that of a human when you would press the fat until you could feel the jaw bone. It was springy, considering it was only a fleshy layer that covered his mouth. You moved your hand down to his outer jaw, which consisted of his mandible, and followed its length with your palm. You could feel the firm muscle and bone and gave it a gentle, experimental squeeze. Almost automatically, he made a soft purring noise like that one of a cat and you blushed at the possibility that he was enjoying the caress.

You, of course, had no idea that you were touching a highly sensitive part of his anatomy and would be alive to tell the tale afterward.

Just as you were curious about him, he was eager to explore you as well. Carefully, he reached out and through the ripped-open front of your blouse. Seconds later, his palm made contact with your stomach and he could feel how you tensed up. He looked up into your eyes, but when he found nothing that indicated that you despised his touch, his hand ran along to your waist and down to your hip, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your belly. It was strange how you could feel his thumb near your navel and, at the same time, his other fingers on your lower back, taking the width of your hip like it was nothing.

The both of you were too busy in your explorations that you had grown ignorant to your surroundings, so when a scream filled the previously quiet alley, you grabbed his extended arm, not to push it away but to hold onto it in panic, while Mi'ytiar whirled his head around to the two outlines standing near the street at the end of the alley. Your body was hidden by his massive one, so it looked like a monster was kneeling among his freshly killed victims, basking in the glory of his crime.

Mi'ytiar's mandibles flared and the guttural roar that left his lungs made you cling to him in fear. Not of him, but the consequences that you would have to face if those who had stumbled upon this scene without context would call for the patrolling soldiers. You heard more screams and hastily retreating footsteps as the couple ran as if their lives depended on it.

Large hands grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up on his shoulder, causing you to squeal in surprise, and you had barely time to hold onto him before he started climbing up the metal scaffolding of the balconies of the apartment building, jumping up and landing on the roof. With an arm secure around your waist, he jumped and ran further and further away.

And you let him.

2024, Yautja Prime

"What you smiling for?"

And all of a sudden, those purred words were taking you from your past life to your current one. You hadn't even noticed you had stopped drawing random figures and forms on Mi'tyiar's naked chest. At some point, you had started daydreaming with that far-away look in your eyes and a smile slowly making its way on your lips as you were lying on him, between his legs.

"Just thought of the night we met." You drawled lazily and rubbed your cheek against his reptilian-like skin. "My hero in shining alien amour."

"My amour does not shine."

Now you had to laugh. Sometimes, you couldn't help yourself when he was so bluntly clueless. Humans and their analogies were oh-so confusing.

"It's a human saying, my love." You explained as you crossed your arms on his wide chest and rested your chin on them. "A male who saves a female from danger. A male who would sacrifice himself so the female can get away without harm."

Mi'ytiar reached towards your face and cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek before he dragged it over your lower lip. You were dreamingly looking up at him, basking in his loving touch. You were placing your hand on his and turned your head to the side so you could pepper his palm with light kisses.

He couldn't help his body's reaction, he just couldn't. He was starved of your touch.

You suddenly stopped your sweet kisses when you felt something big poking your stomach. You looked down, although you could only see how your breasts were pressed against him, before you looked back up at him with a raised eyebrow.

"You are insatiable." You smirked and hoisted yourself up after placing one last kiss between his pecs.

You straddled his midriff but left enough space between you and him so you could reach underneath your body and grab his semi-hard cock. Even at this size, you had a little trouble fully embracing it and getting your fingertips to touch.

You hissed when you felt the familiar sting of his sharp mandibles and teeth digging into your skin. You tilted your head to the side and offered him more access. Mi'ytiar let out a feral growl when your blood finally hit his tongue. He relished in it, tasting so sweet, just like the rest of you.

Grasping your hips with both of his hands, his claws scratching your delicate skin, he pushed them down to his crotch.

He needed you again, needed to be so deep inside you, so he could see the bulge of his cock forming in your tummy. Just the thought of it made his hips snap up, barely missing your entrance and dragging his cock through your sopping wet folds that were covered with your combined releases from your last mating moments ago. It elicited a whiny moan and a wiggle of your hips.

"Stop teasing, tanhì. Put it in." You groaned and started rubbing yourself up and down his rock-hard cock, coating it with your mixed cum that was still leaking from your hole.

Mi'ytiar wrapped a large arm around you and started to get up, his other arm supporting himself to manhandle you on your back to be on top. The second your hazy mind registered what he was doing, you placed both of your hands on his chest and pushed him back down. You preened when his body immediately went slack, allowing you to do as you pleased with him.

He was staring up at you with flashing eyes. You didn't take the lead very often, preferring it to be dominated by your mate, but when you did, he was gladly giving you the power you wanted.

The first time you had tried to be on top, it had gone from steamy to ugly pretty quickly. You had been on your back when you tried to push him and switch your position, but since he had been unmovable like a rock, you had untangled yourself from him and told him to lie back. You were straddling his hips, humping his hardening cock for exactly thirty seconds before he flipped you over and on your back again. You had then mewled and tried to push him back once more, causing him to growl. For your attitude, he bit roughly into your throat, hoping it would keep you submissive. You let out a cry and hit his chest with both of your fists. This time, Mi'ytiar showed you his displeasure more vocally when he slammed his flat hands next to both sides of your head and roared right into your face. Safe to say, it scared the living daylights out of you and caused you to escape his caging arms. He, of course, followed you quickly and tried to amend his outburst with purrs and snuggles rather than words.

The next time you were on top, he vehemently focused on staying seated on the edge of your nest with you on his lap as you rode him with his helping hands on your hips. His eyes strayed from the spot where his cock was disappearing inside of you, to the bulge in your stomach that grew and shrunk with every movement, to your bouncing breasts, to your pleasure-contorted face.

After that, he couldn't get enough of you being on top.

The same was the case now as you slowly inserted his throbbing cock into your-

A wail broke the sensual atmosphere, causing the both of you to jerk your heads to the doorway connecting the room to the rest of your home. With your maternal instincts kicking in, you practically jumped up from your mate, his half-inside cock slipping from your tight heat, and ran to the room where the sound was coming from.

Mi'ytiar slumped back with a displeased grunt. He loved his pup dearly, truly he did, but he hadn't been able to mate with you for an eternity — five months, double the time the healer had advised you to keep from being intimate with each other after the pregnancy because a certain someone had been overly cautious with you — and his cock throbbed painfully at that sorrowful thought.

He got up from the nest and followed the direction you had run off to. Your five-month-old pup was sleeping alone in his room for only a short part of his life. Before that, his crib had been standing next to the nest in your room, quickly accessible and in reach should he need any sort of attention. Now, he was sleeping in his big brother's former nursery, which you had lovingly prepared when you had been pregnant with Akail, your first pup.

Mi'ytiar watched you standing in front of the crib in the middle of the room, your back to him, as you rocked the whiny pup in your arms. The wholesome thoughts of his beautiful mate taking such good care of his youngling quickly turned into an animalistic need to breed you once more when his eyes trailed over your curves that had gotten bigger after bearing his second son. They fixed on your legs where trails of semen were running down your skin from between your inner thighs.

He was faster by your side than you would expect from a being of his size. He pressed his bare body against your own, hands on your hips pulling you closer, his cock digging into your back. Mi'ytiar bent down to snuggle his face into the crook of your neck, purring lowly.

"He was just hungry." You whispered as you watched your pup falling back to sleep.

Bending over, you placed your little one back into his crib, careful not to disturb him. You had to bite your lip when you felt Mi'ytiar pull you back against his crotch to rub himself against your ass. All you needed to do was push your ass back into him for him to grab you, throw you over his shoulder and turn to leave your son's nursery.

Giggling, you looked back to the pup's crib and whispered, "Dream of the stars, my little Toyah." before you got carried back to your nest.

Masterlist: here

Tag List

@rorrika, @lialiwasneverseen, @lil-lilacwitch, @purplekitten30, @eternalmoonshineofahopelessfan,

@ladygrimmx, @blurpleuni-squid

⇨ Want to join the tag list?

#predator #predator x reader #predator x you #yautja x reader #yautja x you #fanfic

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stonerfromlesbos · 2 months ago

Text

✦ driver’s license | b.e

✦ warnings: angst, mentions of; addiction & relapse, !reader has a later on, and i think thats it!

✦ summary: you really mattered to her as much as she does to you? and if she did, why would she leave you like that?

"promise me that we will stick together no matter what happens, i don´t care about your addictions or problems, i want to be with you billie." you said looking deeply at billie´s light blue eyes, they would just drawn all your attention towards them.

"i promise you, ma chérie." she said staring at your face with an gentle smile while her hand stroked your cheek carefully, almost like she was scared to break you.

deep down, you knew it was a lie, but you wanted to believe her so bad. you needed to believe her, it was your only hope. but why you wanted billie to keep lying to your face? at least she would still be with you... right? why can´t you respect yourself even a little? why do you wish do much that she would text you on a random day?

you just couldn´t forget her, it felt so wrong, forgetting her was like ignoring a part of you. A part that you wouldn´t be able to erase, even if you wanted to. and god you were so fucking happy with her, did she even felt half of the things you felt around her? and if she did, how dare her leave you like that?

she just vanished away from your life after a relapse, you remember it all vividly. you were the one who found her, who took her to the hospital, who took her back home...you blamed yourself so much for those 2 hours that you went grocery shopping, all you remember was coming back home and not finding her there.

"i can´t do this anymore, not with you."

"you deserve better, someone who doesn´t makes you cry."

"don´t wait for me, please"

"you deserve to be happy, with someone healthy."

"i wish you the best, ma chérie."

you´d still remember soaking the letter she left behind with tears, why she couldn´t understand that you didn´t want someone "better" you wanted billie, her skin, her flesh, her bones, her soul. all about her was beautiful to you, every single part of her. but after seven years... you had to move on.

even if you didn´t want to.

other girl was in your arms now, and her big blue eyes would just remember you from billie. your little daughter was your whole world now, you moved to an bigger town, got an new job. but you didn´t felt capable of loving someone romantically, it just felt wrong.

"come on, its christmas, cher would like it too." your friend, lissie, was sittin on your dinner table, trying to convince you to take a walk in the city, your four-year-old daughter would just look at lissie and smirk, nodding her head.

"okay, but quick, i really need to sleep." you said giving in to them, they highfived happily as you giggled.

"seriously, lissie... you´re worse than cher." you said mocking her playfulness.

now, all three of you were bundled up with warm clothes, walking around an very crowded park. the lights were bright yellow, it just felt magical, being with your daughter and with your best friend who would drop anything to help you, no matter how important it was. you were scanning the crowd as your eyes meet with familiar ones.

you could recognize those eyes from a far, the only ones who could make you be drawn into them. it was like the whole world stopped in those seconds.

billie was there, but she wasn´t alone.

her eyes look at yours, for you, it seemed like she looked at you for decades, but it didn´t last even five seconds.

billie´s eyes returned to the blonde woman by her side, opening an wide gentle smile as her arm was crossing the woman´s neck and they walked away. she quickly goes out of your view... you suddenly feel something holding your leg.

"mommy?" your daughter´s big light blue eyes were looking up at you.

"lets go home, cherie."

I CRIED SO MUCH WRITING THIS OMFG

✦ taglist: @chrissv4mp @karaeilishh @iluvapplesxh @hkkuugu @camrenfavs

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queensunshinee · 3 months ago

Text

His favorite toy- Part 4 || Art Donaldson x reader

Rating: Explicit (18+)

Warnings: SMUT (p in v sex), our favorite toxic relationship is back.

Word Count: 6.1k

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3)

This one can stand on its own, but I recommend reading the rest :)

His favorite toy- Part 4:

"What are you doing here?" I tried to sound composed. My heart couldn't stop racing at a speed I never wanted it to beat again. A speed reserved for one person only. And no matter how many years passed or how out of place he would seem in my world, Art Donaldson entered my life like he was the boss. Like he was paying my salary. With exaggerated confidence and an aura that made me blush. A smile that made my lips tremble.

I was painfully aware that my mascara was smudged after a too-long day, and that I had taken my shirt out of my skirt after lunch. Painfully aware that I had taken off my shoes an hour ago because pacing around the room in heels made it hard to think. Painfully aware that he was seeing me in all my flaws now. Years after the last time we met, and he was just as smug.

"I was in the area, and Patrick mentioned something about you working around here..." he said, as if everything in that sentence made sense. As if the fact that I stayed in touch with Patrick made sense. I nodded, trying to somehow control this ridiculous situation. I'm not supposed to react this chaotically to Art Donaldson. I'm 28. I'm not a 19-year-old girl. I do morning meditations. I drink green smoothies and ginger shots. I'm a fucking queen. But I don't feel particularly royal when I remember the coffee stain on my shirt, or the half-eaten avocado sandwich I bought from the café downstairs. It was awful. Both the sandwich and the café. I’m pretty sure the regular barista hates me because once I corrected one of my orders. Ever since, he's been out to get me. It’s a nightmare. I've considered changing jobs more times than I'd like to admit because of it.

"That sounds... completely normal," I mumbled, and he chuckled in response. One of his legs found its natural place over the other, and his fingers played with one of his billion rings in a disturbingly nonchalant way. "Is a tennis player supposed to have that many rings?" I blurted out the first thing that came to mind, knowing how stupid it sounded. Hating myself a little for how stupid it sounded. "I don’t play with them, and they’re beautiful," he shrugged. "They’re ridiculous," I rolled my eyes, trying to recover from this topic of conversation. "Yours is ridiculous," he shot back playfully, looking directly at my ring. At the small diamond (Art probably thinks it’s too small- well, fuck him).

"Oh, this?" I asked, and now we were both looking at it. I liked it until about three seconds ago. Until he walked into the room and stared at it like it was filled with snake venom. It felt like it weighed as much as my entire body. It felt like it was burning my hand from the inside. My blood boiled beneath it, reminding me that all my plans just went to hell. A reminder that I was crazy to even try making plans. "It’s pretty, delicate," I could hear the mockery in his tone. No matter how many years passed, I would always recognize every nuance in his voice. Every rise and fall in octaves. Every unnecessary affectation. He smiled the way he did when he tried to get under my skin—five minutes hadn’t passed, and he’d already succeeded. How embarrassing. What a failure as a person. A failure as a woman. A failure to feminism. Sitting in my office with a coffee stain on my shirt, while my ex from college critiques my choices like some kind of fraudulent fortune-teller. Like God sent him to help me make some life-changing decision.

"Why are you here?" I asked again, trying to maintain control and not snap at him. After all, we hadn’t spoken in nearly a decade. What good would it do to lash out at him? What would it accomplish to tell him about the therapy sessions, about the years I didn’t believe anything good was coming my way at all? About the fact that because of him, I didn’t believe I could ever be anyone’s first choice. "Why did you stay in touch with Patrick?" he asked, and for a moment, it sounded like his tough mask cracked. Like his defenses crumbled and his heart was laid bare. Like we were 20 again, and he was holding my face, explaining how scared he was to let me go.

"He insisted," I shrugged. The day after that party, Tashi's accident happened. Some would call it karma, but I’d say it was just bad luck. Because even though she hurt me without even knowing my name, I never wanted her career to end before it even began. And everyone was sad that day—Patrick, because he felt guilty, Tashi, because her knee twisted in the air, and Art, because he lost a friend and the girl who forgave him for all his bullshit. Aka me. But he won what really mattered. He got Tashi. Patrick found me that day in the library, refusing to wallow in my own misery, and somehow, he managed to entwine his miserable life with mine. He managed to secure a spot on my couch from time to time. He managed to impress me with lame jokes about his pathetic life, or maybe about mine.

And life didn’t turn out the way I planned. I didn’t discover a cure for cancer or make it to space by age 25. My apartment was crappy. So fucking crappy. But there were funny moments, and I only occasionally followed Art’s career. I only followed his love life when his face and Tashi’s were plastered on billboards. That could never have been me. It would never have worked. It wasn’t meant to be, I’d tell myself every time I was filled with self-pity. Every time I worked a temporary job selling skincare products or transcribing lectures for students. Every time I felt lost. I knew he wouldn’t have settled for someone like me in the long run.

He and Patrick made up two years ago, which was ironic. Because what’s the point of maintaining my friendship with Patrick if not to have at least one person in my life who understands the pain of knowing Art Donaldson? Of knowing that once, he was a part of your life, and it felt amazing. Almost unreal. Almost spiritual. But they made up, and Patrick promised me he wouldn’t talk about me with the smug bastard sitting in front of me right now. He promised and didn’t keep it. Well, here’s someone who’s never eating pasta at the restaurant near my place on my dime ever again.

"He insisted?" Art looked amused, and I just shrugged again in response. I knew he wanted more details, but I wanted him to take a headfirst dive into a volcano. Desires are ridiculous. "He insisted," I repeated, and this time he laughed. Actually laughed. "It's like you two have a contract not to tell me anything. How am I supposed to work with that?" He spoke as if we’d been friends for years. As if there hadn’t been a rupture, a break, and devastation. As if I didn’t have the image of him leaving me at that party seared into my brain. As if my heart hadn’t shattered into pieces because of him more times than I could count.

"I want you to handle my money," he suddenly said. "Excuse me?" I raised an eyebrow, looking at him as if he'd lost a lobe of his brain. "You're a financial advisor, right? Be my financial advisor," he said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, all while glancing at the pathetic office I was sitting in. "You don’t want me to be your financial advisor, Art," I almost snorted in disbelief. "You haven’t spoken to me in ten years, and now you know what I want?" he asked, allowing himself to raise an eyebrow in return. "This is a big firm; I can recommend someone who’d be happy to take you on," I tried to fake a smile. "I'll go to your boss and tell him I’m willing to let only you handle my account, and that you’re refusing. I’m sure he’d be thrilled. I Googled him—Albert looks like a guy who’d love to lose a wealthy client," and I saw that spark in his eyes. Challenging. Almost childish. The kind that said, 'Let’s see what you do. You’ll lose.'

"That’s a terrible idea," I declared. "Keeping in touch with Patrick and not me is a terrible idea. Managing my investments will give you some good money," he said, gesturing with his hands, and for the first time, I realized how big his hands were. "Are you bored with your life, Donaldson?" I asked, trying to figure out what I was dealing with here. "Come on, Peaches, you have to admit you missed me, at least a little." And for a change, his smile was genuine. He looked like every word I said could hurt him. "Like I miss my appendix," I rolled my eyes, and he laughed. "I’m looking forward to working with you." He suddenly stood up and extended his hand for a handshake, as if that wasn’t utterly ridiculous. "I’m looking forward to it like a deer looks forward to being eaten by a lion. It’s on my wish list," I said, and he just laughed again. A laugh that was too real. The kind that made tears gather in his eyes.

An hour after he left my dingy office, my heart was still racing at an unreasonable pace. The kind that made me wonder if there was a defibrillator in the building. I tried to remember if I shook his hand at the end of the meeting. I couldn’t. . . . As he left your office, Art felt like he does after a long tennis match. One that he won. A thought detached from reality, but he allowed himself those kinds of thoughts now. He was a new person. He believed in victories before they even happened. And seeing you after so many years in real life, not in blurry Facebook pictures, felt like a victory. You hadn’t changed much. The years had even given you a more sophisticated look—subtle yet full of curves. Your eyes still looked at him with that same spark. With a glimmer of something he could never quite put his finger on. But he wanted to conquer it. He wanted to win.

When Patrick and he reconnected, it was alongside the problems that only began in his relationship with Tashi. Alongside Lily’s birth, alongside the intrusive thoughts that had plagued him all his life, he wondered if it was a mistake. But Patrick was Patrick, and when he insisted on something, he got his way. And for Patrick, he and Art had to reconnect. So they did. Slowly, gradually. He wasn’t his best friend anymore, of course. But sometimes Art thought he was his only friend. Which was strange, because he was always surrounded by people. Tashi was supposed to be his best friend, but she never was. She made it clear more than once that it was a ridiculous notion.

One night, as he and Patrick were having beers at some sketchy bar, Patrick casually mentioned that you and he were good friends. Art looked at him as if he’d fallen from the moon. He wanted to punch him. He hadn’t expected that. It felt like someone had punched him in the chest and knocked all the air out of his lungs. Patrick got over Tashi and settled for you? You weren’t supposed to be a compromise. Art wouldn’t allow that. He’d go to war if he had to. He had no grounds for such a war, but you were too good to settle for Patrick. You were too good to settle for anyone, really.

He quickly realized that things between you and Patrick were platonic. Or at least that’s what the guy sitting across from him kept repeating, but Art wasn’t fully convinced. Everything was too mysterious. Patrick kept too much information to himself. He didn’t share anything with Art about your life, and the more Patrick kept things hidden, the more obsessed Art became.

And it wasn’t weird that he checked if you’d posted a new status on Facebook almost as often as he checked if his infant daughter needed anything. It wasn’t weird that he searched for you on Instagram. It wasn’t weird that he looked through the profiles of all 67 people you followed and hated most of them. Because you didn’t follow him, and millions of people did. You could have followed, and he wouldn’t have even noticed—allegedly.

"She got engaged," Patrick said one day, throwing it into the air as if he were talking about his grocery list. Art stared at him, blinking, trying to process the information. Who’s the person responsible for this? Who’s the person who took you away, and why do you think he deserves forever with you? What kind of thought is that—that someone else deserves forever with you? That someone gets to have a picnic in the park with you. To pick you up for dates. To share a house with you. There’s someone who’s going to be the father of your kids. Who picked out a ring for you. Who’s going to make sure your dreams come true. Art doesn’t know what your dreams are. But he doesn’t want to think about it.

"Is he a good guy?" Art knew that was what he was supposed to ask. That’s what social norms demanded. "I’ve sat with them a few times when they were together. He’s kind and funny, and I think he loves her," Patrick shrugged, as if that’s all it takes to be with you. "Well, I’m happy for her," Art took a gulp of whiskey, too big, letting the drink burn its way down his throat. Patrick looked at him like he didn’t believe him. His problem, Art thought. Let him believe whatever he wants.

That night, Art opened your Instagram while Tashi was asleep. There wasn’t a picture of a ring or a tag of some guy. Tashi got annoyed because of the phone light. Art apologized.

That was almost six months ago. Since then, his life had changed because he and Tashi decided to keep their relationship strictly professional. It was for both of their benefit, though he wasn’t entirely sure how much it benefited him. He was still learning how to function without her. He was still learning how to communicate effectively. He was still trying to bridge the dissonance that came with going home to an empty house, yet navigating press conferences as if he were happily married.

In two weeks, even that charade would end. And he wasn’t sure what he was even fighting for. Because they weren’t truly happy. And you were in his thoughts enough for it to count as emotional cheating if he were married. So he let Tashi go. He was much less broken than he had imagined he would be without her.

'I’m looking forward to working with you.' -Art- He couldn’t resist sending the message. Maybe ten at night was too late. Maybe you were already asleep. Maybe your fiancé was with you, trying to love you. Maybe Art was intruding.

He didn’t particularly care if he was. . . . "I’m going to kill you," I said into the phone, hearing Patrick's rolling laughter. "You're exaggerating—" he began, trying to save his ass. "We had one rule! Just one, Patrick!" I found myself pacing the bedroom while Alec worked in the living room. This was the day after the meeting with Art Donaldson. "He lives in New York and he’s divorced. I felt like a jerk not telling him where you work when he asked so nicely," Patrick’s voice sounded genuine. "He's not divorced," I rolled my eyes. I would know if Art were divorced. His and Tashi's faces are plastered all over this stinking city.

"They’re finalizing things in about a week and a half. There will be a press conference and everything. It’s going to be a big deal," he said, as if it were common knowledge. As if I should already know this. "Sorry I didn’t give you a heads-up. That wasn’t cool," he added, and I could hear him biting into something, probably an apple. "We’re supposed to be a team. You can’t prioritize Art Donaldson’s interests over mine. I fed you when you were half-homeless," I declared. "I still prioritize your interests, drama queen," he continued speaking lightly, as if I had no reason to feel like my world was crumbling. "How is this prioritizing my interests? I’m going to manage his money. I’m going to handle his investments, Patrick. I’m going to see his stupid face every time he wants, as part of my job. Because of you! This is your fault!" I found myself stopping for a moment in the room, almost stomping my foot in frustration. Years of self-work going down the drain.

"Everything okay, Bunny?" I heard Alec's voice from the living room. "Yeah, I’m just talking to Patrick," I replied, steadying my voice into something more composed and responsible. So he’d keep thinking I had my life together. "Tell him 'hi,'" Alec said, and I could only guess he’d put his headphones back on. "Well, hi," I rolled my eyes, returning to the conversation with the chief idiot. "I’m sorry," Patrick mumbled after a few seconds of silence, and I hung up, sprawling on the bed like a starfish. He didn’t sound sorry.

I sat down next to Alec on the couch, wearing just my bra and panties with an open button-down shirt over it. Sexy enough for any stranger peeking through the window. A teenage boy's wet dream. I’m on fire. He kept staring at his screen, ignoring my existence. I started placing small kisses along his neck, trying to set the mood. Trying to seal the deal. Trying not to think about the one-who-shall-not-be-named. Trying to be a good woman. Trying to conquer feminism with mediocre sex, just like Alec and I know how to deliver. "I really have to finish this, Bunny," he mumbled, shifting uncomfortably, making me sigh, lean back, and roll my eyes. "How long will it take?" I asked. "You’ll probably be asleep by then. Watch an episode of your favorite show instead," he said without looking at me. "Can we talk about the wedding?" I tried another angle. "If I don’t have time to make love to you, I definitely don’t have time to plan the wedding," he said, slipping those hideous—massive—headphones back on, ending the conversation. I kind of hated that he never said "fuck" or "have sex" or even used the word "sex" in general. He always treated it like I was Princess Diana. I am clearly not Princess Diana. Sometimes I wonder if he even wants to marry me at all. It’s been over six months since he proposed, and he’s been dodging setting a date since practically the same day. It’s very frustrating. I need to meditate.

"Bunny," he suddenly said, and I looked at him expectantly while he removed his headphones after I’d already started heading to the bedroom, "you have a stain on your shirt." He quickly put his headphones back on, eyes glued to the screen. At least the soup I had for lunch managed to fuck me today. . . . "You can't just show up here," I said as I tried to finish chewing the terrible sandwich I’d chosen today. I think it had mold. "If you had answered my messages, we could’ve scheduled something without me showing up at your office." Art looked good. So fucking good. It was frustrating. Today was the day I decided to skip the contacts and wear glasses. God hates me. But on the other hand, God was trying to help me—making sure Art Donaldson never gets attracted to me. God is on my side. I knew she was a feminist.

"What do you want?" I mumbled in surrender, knowing he wouldn’t leave until he said whatever he came to say so we could all move on with our lives. "To talk business," he smiled from ear to ear. "I'm eating right now, come back in half an hour," I replied, "or better yet, schedule a meeting like a rational human being." I continued pressing my point. "Better idea, let's go grab lunch and talk business over food." He looked at me like a dad who just told his little girl what her next hour is going to look like. "Sorry, I can't—" "Art Donaldson! When I got your email, I couldn't believe it," Albert burst into my office excitedly. Sure, let’s invite everyone. Apparently, there’s free cookies being handed out. All are welcome.

Art kept wearing his unbearable poster smile while Albert went on and on about tennis and how much he loved Rafael Nadal. Albert is clearly a man with vast general knowledge. "She treating you right?" Albert asked Art as if they were best friends, and now they both stared at me while all I wanted was to finish my food-poisoning sandwich in peace. "She just agreed to join me for lunch to talk about my money," Art said, and if looks could kill, Art Donaldson would’ve had a stroke right there and disappeared from our lives as suddenly as he appeared. But no, looks don’t kill, and feminist God apparently isn’t on my side anymore because now I’m sitting across from this asshole at a diner. I ordered a burger because I knew he’d never allow himself to eat one and would whine for hours about how he wants to eat a burger every day but can’t.

"I hope that's okay," I smiled one of the fakest smiles I could muster, blinking as I took a bite of the slab of meat in front of me. "Mmm, it's amazing," I sighed, watching for a moment as he stared at me, mouth half-open, eyes sparkling. "You're cruel," he stated after shaking his head, as if shaking off urges. He looked different with short hair. I always told him he needed to cut it because it kept falling into his eyes, but his curls had a youthful playfulness that was clearly missing now. He looked defeated.

"So, what did you want to talk about? What are you looking to invest in?" I tried to focus on the reason behind this ridiculous meal while Art stole a fry from my plate and picked at the sad grilled chicken he had ordered. Maybe I should stop making those satisfied sounds when I eat. "You," he said, biting his lip like a kid who let a curse word slip in front of his mom. Testing boundaries. Watching as I rolled my eyes. "I'm not going to let you waste my time, Donaldson," and we both knew I wasn’t just talking about business. Because honestly? Fuck business. Art didn’t seem like someone who was planning to disappear from my life anytime soon. He had shown up too determined for that to happen. "I have no intention of wasting your time, Peaches," he smiled, leaning back, relaxing a little after we established this basic ground rule. He continued stealing my food.

"So, tell me about him," he suddenly said after insisting I order an enormous ice cream that was supposed to be just for me. Every time his spoon got closer, mine heroically fought it off. "Who?" I asked, taking a spoonful of ice cream and leaving it in my mouth for a few seconds. His gaze immediately locked on my ring. "We're not that kind of friends, Donaldson," I said, watching as he inched his spoon toward my ice cream, and I quickly blocked him. No chance. "So what kind of friends are we?" he asked, smiling, looking half at me and half at our spoons, still battling each other. "I don't know," I sighed a little, finally lowering my spoon in defeat. There’s no point in fighting. It’s truly a lost cause.

The more Art Donaldson entered my life, the more Alec distanced himself from it. Art did it in a quiet way, almost eerily so. It started with deep conversations about financial investments he wanted to make. About charity events he wanted to be part of. A foundation he wanted to establish. He talked about his money as if it made sense to be this rich at his age. As if he and I were on the same level in terms of lifestyle. He never once acted condescending about it, even though I expected him to. Even though I had prepared arguments in advance. He never once asked why I didn’t continue in academia or why I gave up on medicine. He didn’t poke at that wound. Even though he could have. Even though it would’ve been easy.

It continued with stupid messages in the middle of the day about how he was hungry, tired, or wanted to go home. Messages about seeing a guy dressed as a bear in the middle of the street. Fucking New York. He’d ask questions about my day. Ask what I ate. If I ate. If I was drinking enough water. Never anything too deep. Never out of nosy curiosity. If I forgot who he was, I might’ve thought he cared about me. I know, it’s unbelievable.

One time, he called me at seven in the evening, talking such nonsense that I wondered if he was drunk. I wondered out loud, of course, because I’m not 19, and I’m not afraid to tell Art Donaldson what I think. He wasn’t drunk. He made dinner and decided to call. He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. Said it, and then went on about his day. About Lily. About how she was adjusting to splitting her time between his place and Tashi’s. He talked about Patrick and told me what he was cooking. It was domestic. Like I was a part of his life. Weird.

Alec and I were in the middle of a fight that made me wonder if I was mentally strong enough not to throw the vase that was sitting on the dresser. Not at him. I’m not violent. On the floor, to make a point. “Do you even want to marry me?” I suddenly asked. Because at that point, I no longer knew what was happening. I don’t like not knowing what’s happening. “Of course I wa-” “To who the hell is it obvious? Do you know how embarrassing it is when people ask me about a wedding date almost a year later, and I change the subject?!” I cut him off. “Every time I try to bring it up, you’d rather talk about light fixtures or that time we randomly had an hour-long conversation about types of doors.” I reminded him of some of the truly bizarre moments we’ve had recently. “We do need to replace the door.” I shot him a look that should’ve made it clear that if he kept going with that sentence, I was breaking the vase on the floor.

“Why don’t you want to fuck me anymore?” I suddenly asked. Almost defeated after too much yelling. “What? Bunny-” he blushed. The question was too brutal for him. Too raw for his delicate soul, which couldn’t handle talking about sex. “I can count on one hand how many times we’ve fucked since you proposed,” I said it as bluntly as I could, enjoying his discomfort. “We don’t have to make love every day,” he mumbled. Last time I checked, to make love, there has to be love. I threw the vase. Alec left the house. . . . ‘You’re not at work.’ – A –

‘How is it that we’re back to you not answering me?’ – A –

‘Did you secretly get married over the weekend?’ – A –

‘Seriously, get back to me. It’s about the charity event.’ – A –

The bitter truth was that I was busy wallowing in the current failure of my life- Alec. I binge-watched all the seasons of The O.C. in three days and ate more ice cream than should be legal. But I didn’t feel the pain in my bones the way you’re supposed to when ending what was supposed to be the relationship. I’d once hurt more over losing someone who loved me less.

‘Are you okay? You’ve got our mutual friend worried.’ – P – He talked about Art like he was a spy. ‘Hey, could you stop being an idiot for a second and just answer to say you’re alive?’ – P –

‘I’m calling the fire department to check your apartment.’ – P –

‘This is concerning.’ – P –

‘I’ll call your mom. She’d love to hear from me after that time I burped in her face.’ – P –

‘I broke up with Alec.’ – (Y/N)–

‘You’re not going to die alone.’ – P –

‘I know you think you will, but you won’t.’ – P –

‘You can’t know that.’ – (Y/N) –

‘You’re an idiot.’ – P –

‘Are you okay?’ – P –

‘I mean, obviously you’re not okay, but... are you okay?’ – P –

‘I’m okay.’ –(Y/N)–

When I walked into the hall where Art Donaldson’s charity event for kids with muscular dystrophy, was being held, eyes didn’t turn toward me like they do in the movies. Everyone was too busy with their conversations and stroking each other’s egos. From the side, it almost looked homoerotic—the gentle touches on shoulders and the occasional pats. Almost sexy. Maybe I was seeing sex in things that weren’t sexy because my ex refused to touch me with more resolve than an ant carrying food that weighed more than its body. “You made it,” Art’s voice came from behind me. “You’re sharp,” I shot back as I turned to him, taking one of the champagne glasses he offered. “Is Patrick here too?” I asked. “No, he couldn’t come. He signed up for a Challenger in Malibu,” he replied, his eyes unapologetically scanning me. I felt completely exposed under his penetrating gaze. “So random,” I mumbled. Art’s hand gently pulled me by the waist, bringing me close to him while keeping his hand exactly where it was. I almost let confusion show on my face, but he introduced me to the man who had come over to talk to him, never taking his eyes—or his hand��off me. Not during the next conversation, or the next one, either. He presented us as a strange package deal. If someone wanted to talk to him, they had to talk to me too. Maybe he hoped it would drive people away. It didn’t. "Want to step outside for some air?" he whispered in my ear. After spending most of the evening standing so close to each other, it felt strange to pull away now that no one else was around. "Sure, why not." I shrugged, acting like it wasn’t a big deal. Before stepping out, we each grabbed a glass of wine. "You raised a lot of money," I remarked, trying to break the ice. "You disappeared on me," he shot back, not bothering with small talk. "I’ve been busy." I shrugged again. "Where’s your ring?" he asked. "You’re obsessed with my hands, Donaldson," I said, unsure how to respond to this level of bluntness after being in a relationship with someone who was too scared to talk to me for years. "It’s not relevant anymore," I added, as his gaze didn’t allow me to dodge the question. "Good, it was ugly," he stated, stopping in his tracks, making me stop too and turn to look at him, raising an eyebrow. His expression was challenging again, with that playful spark, inviting a debate. "It wasn’t ugly," I rolled my eyes. "It was pathetic, Peaches. You know you deserve better," he declared, leaving no room for argument.

And somehow, he was so close. Close enough that his breath, smelling of mint gum and wine, blended with mine. "I’m not looking for a rebound," I murmured. "Neither am I," his usual smug smile was gone. There was no trace of it. He looked hazy. Almost captive. "What are you looking for?" I dared to ask. "You," he replied. It was a good answer.

After an excruciatingly long hour and twenty minutes, during which I had two more glasses of wine, and Art spoke into the microphone—stopping me from downing a third—we arrived at his house. It looked a bit like a modern palace. "How is it that you live here?" I mused aloud, and his mouth found my neck as he chuckled. "What, this old thing?" he mumbled, his kisses as sharp as his words. "Don’t leave marks, Donaldson. We’re adults," I managed to say as I kicked off my heels, and he unzipped my dress.

"I want to do this from the moment you walked into the room today. Fuck, you’re so hot," he growled. It was throaty and masculine, almost animalistic. His eyes scanned me like a smoke detector picking up a cigarette. Within seconds, I found myself on the most comfortable couch I had ever been on. His lips traveled over me as if he was painting a map, as if he remembered all the sensitive points on my body. "I missed her," he said, giving a small bite to my right nipple, glancing at my face as I let out a moan. "her too," he added, moving to the left one. "Art, I need you." I tried to make it clear to him that I couldn't handle the teasing right now. That he should save it for another time. For someone else. For something else. I need him inside me.

"Peaches, have some patien—" he started, continuing to place deadly kisses on various areas of my body. "Art, just fuck me. Okay?" I almost pleaded, my voice lower than usual, filled with an inexplicable need. He looked at me for half a minute and nodded. "Okay baby, I got you," he said. And within seconds, his boxers were on the floor, and my panties disappeared too. He was inside me as if this was his home, as if he belonged there. "Fuck. Art. Thank you, there," I felt stupid, but I couldn't control it. I needed him so badly. I needed someone to fill the empty space. That Art Donaldson would fill the empty space.

He moved at a chaotic pace, almost as if he was trying to prove he could give me exactly what I wanted. What I needed. And he was right. I came after a few minutes, during which his cock filled me perfectly, and his lips found mine and refused to let go. He wrapped me from every direction and came right after I did.

"It's like we're teenagers," I muttered, and he laughed. "I usually last longer," he stated, not getting up, his body weight feeling almost comfortable on top of me. It was almost nice to breathe heavily. "So do I," I retorted. His hand drew little shapes on my shoulder. "Let's go to sleep," he decided, standing up slowly, reaching out his hand and pulling me toward him. Not forgetting to give me another kiss on the lips, a small one. As if it had happened a million times before. As if it were a routine.

"Your bed should be illegal, Donaldson," I said after he tossed a soft T-shirt he had in his closet over me. He lay down beside me, laughing. "I can't believe you're here. I was afraid it wouldn't happen," he said, with a seriousness that felt profound. "How long have you been thinking about this?" I tried to sound amused. "Since the moment I stepped into your office," his honesty was both terrifying and comforting. No one had talked to me so openly in a while. "probably before that" he added. "You can't waste my time, Art," I replied, looking up to catch his gaze. . . . Art took a moment to nod. He already had a ring for you. Even before you broke up with that idiot, he had bought the ring. He didn't know where life would lead you. He just knew he was going to spend every free moment proving to you that he loved you enough not to waste your time. Not when you were his favorite person.

How are we doing guys?!?!?!?! Can't wait to hear from you. That's my chance to remind y'all that English is not my first language and I might have some grammar issues. love you all, hope it was a good addition to the story <3

taglist: @lalalandofive @wild-rose-35 @theynothem @angelism13

#challengers fic #art donaldson #patrick zweig #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers #art donaldson smut #his favorite toy

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moonydustx · 9 months ago

Note

Hii, i was wondering if you would like to write something about zoro being jealous? Just that haha :) btw i love your writing!

Hi Hi Hi! First, thank you for the request and the compliment, they really make my day. And second, sorry for the delay in writing, I ended up getting stuck with some work deadlines. I loved the idea and although our little greenie has a tough exterior, I think he would be one of those jealous people who refuses to admit it, you know? I think I ended up going on a more protective side with this one, but I hope you like it.

A not so friendly friend

Roronoa Zoro x F!Reader Warnings: Zoro is jealous and a little protective of his girl, he and F!Reader have a kind of secret relationship. A little smut at the end, nothing super explicit. Summary: The Straw Hats arrive on one of the islands where you lived for many years and, to your delight, you meet a long-time friend. Someone in the crew doesn't seem that happy.

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It was almost impossible to keep your euphoria contained within your body. You hadn't set foot on that island in years and finally, you could spend a few days there - even if it was just long enough to record the Log Pose.

"Someone seems anxious to me." Usopp leaned next to you as the Sunny finished docking in the small port.

"Right after I left my home island, I spent a few years here, I believe I can still find some friends."

"I hope they're nice people."

"They sure are!" the two of you quickly turned your attention to Luffy, who was shouting that everything was ready to disembark. The two quickly walked towards the group, this time Franky would be responsible for taking care of the ship.

"We're finally here!" Robin joined the two of you. "From what you told me, there's a big library around here."

"Yes, I'll take you there, we also have great restaurants…" you listed. "Wait, how are we going to split up?"

"Well, from what you told me, it's five days until Log Pose finishes recording and since it seems to be an important island for you, we can do most of the things together." Nami explained and waited for the others to agree. "We've already distributed everyone's money, but today we're going after…"

"Food!" Luffy interrupted her and immediately felt Nami's hand slap him. "But you promised to take me out for that delicious pie." he turned to you.

"Yes, we will. Let's go down first, shall we?" you asked and everyone immediately agreed.

Like many other times, you watched Zoro go down first and almost automatically stretch out his hand for you to support yourself and go down. That gesture didn't go unnoticed by your crewmates, but they knew your personality well enough not to question it.

The group continues calmly to the island's central square. New stores, old schools, even some salespeople were the same and seemed to have recognized you when you waved, your cheeks already hurt from the fixed smile.

"I remember in that bar over there one time…" you commented and heard something in the background.

"Kitten?"

Everyone immediately turned towards the voice that called you as they watched you become a figure as you ran towards the blonde haired boy.

"Leo!" recognizing your former friend immediately, you threw yourself into his arms, allowing the man to lift you off the ground.

"Seems like she's well liked here." Robin chuckled as he watched you practically spin around.

"Is he also a pirate?" Brook analyzed him. "What do you think."

"He seems like a nice guy." Chopper replied smiling

"Kitten?" Zoro practically groaned when he heard the nickname, muttering under his breath.

Even with the man's hands on your waist, squeezing you tightly and your laugh being heard from afar, the way the word had come out of the other guy's mouth made it clear that Zoro wouldn't like his stay there in that city.

"Guys, I need to introduce him to you…" you pulled the man by the hand, bringing him closer to the gang. "This is Leo, he was one of the best friends I had here."

"I went?"

"Still one of the best friends." you laughed, being pulled into a side hug by the man. "Let me introduce my friends, Straw Hats."

You made a point of introducing each friend one by one and again that seemed to bother Zoro. Friend? His little rationality reminded him that you had never made anything clear about the implicit situations between the two of you, but the small bad feeling - which he refused to name - bothered him.

"Come on, I'll take you to our base." the man continued holding hands with you and guided the others.

"Wow, how different you look." "So, how has it been exploring the sea?" "I bet you haven't found anyone as good as me."

Every time the man opened his mouth to praise you, Zoro felt his hand grip tighter against the sword in his sheath. Just one of the three and he would do all the damage that crossed his mind. It was a strange feeling, watching you there with someone else, even if they were talking. Something that stirred any butterfly that might exist in his stomach, that made his eyes turn red, his hands itch to get him out and take that Leo's place. Zoro hated this new feeling that came over him.

"Hey Zoro." your voice woke him up from his trance. "Did you know that Leo is also a swordsman?"

"Interesting." His tone of voice was almost cynical, going unnoticed by you.

"This one is the executor." Leo pointed to the sword in his sheath. "It was supposed to have another name." the man turned suggestively to you.

"I would never let you use my name for that thing." you grumbled, turning back to Zoro. "He's one of the best swordsmen on the island."

"What's your bounty?" the provocation was implicit in the cynical smile that adorned Zoro's lips and this time, it had reached your eyes.

"I don't have one." the man replied calmly, reassuring you.

"Interesting." Zoro repeated and followed in silence.

The others seemed distracted, talking amongst themselves, but your eyes started to turn around a few times, following the green-haired man who started to walk further behind the group.

The afternoon passed quickly on the island. You met up with some other friends who didn't seem to be as close as Leo and when night fell, everyone decided to go to a bar. Everyone except one person.

"Zoro, can we talk?" you asked, moving away from the group that entered the place full of drinks and noise. "What is happening?"

"About what?"

"You barely spoke to me today and now you're refusing to drink?" you stood on your tiptoes, to touch his forehead. "Are you sure you don't want me to call Chopper to make sure you're not sick?"

"Everything is fine." he responded directly, even if he wasn't harsh, his eyes made it clear that something was wrong. "I'm going to go back to Sunny, take advantage of the free time to train."

"Greenie, please." the nickname you used so much to irritate him came out sweeter than he expected from your lips. That made it even harder for him to deny any of your requests.

"It's okay sweetie." his hand touched yours and the memories of watching you all day arm in arm with Leo made him pull away. "Your friends are waiting for you, go."

You watched him leave and even though your body almost involuntarily wanted to follow him, you let Zoro return to the ship.

The remaining four days felt like an eternity to Zoro. Something told him not to move away from you and on the other hand, with every laugh you gave Leo's direction, it was as if he was hurting himself. Why did he have to feel this way? It was just a friendship, wasn't it?

He managed to control himself, many times he managed to control himself. Seeing you have lunch next to him, watching the man carry you from one place to another, the stupid gifts he insisted on giving you and even Leo daring to say he could train you with swords.

Zoro didn't know if there was a god or something, but he thanked the heavens when the last night began to fall. The next morning, you would set sail and he would no longer be forced to share his attention with the idiot who called himself your friend.

The tall bonfire at the edge of the small forest was surrounded by members of the Straw Hats, Leo and some other friends. Drinks and food piled up, as did stories and songs that Brook made a point of singing. Your lips no longer smiled so much, especially when your favorite swordsman met your gaze. He was distant, it had been five days since you had barely been able to speak to him and when you did, he seemed to be as dry as the Alabasta desert. On the other hand, these days you had met a much clingier version of Leo, even uncomfortable and you didn't know how to get away - and apparently the person who could help you with this, didn't seem to be so worried.

"Kitten?" Leo bent down, stopping at your ear level. "Can we talk alone real quick?"

"Why?" you asked, seeing him find the question strange.

"We need more booze!" the man ignored what you said and said it out loud. Pretending he wasn't already talking to you, he nudged you. "Come on, help me, kitten."

Zoro watched the man say something to you and your expression changed, sulking. Leo repeated the gesture again, ignoring that he had already spoken to you. Something possessive took over Zoro - something was wrong and he wouldn't sit still until he found out what it was. Leaving the sake aside, the swordsman stood up and, following a more hidden path than yours, accompanied you to the back of the warehouse - which was the supposed base that Leo had presented a few days ago.

"What is this, Leo?" you stopped in front of him, seeing that they had taken a different direction than you expected.

"I know you're leaving tomorrow, but… Why wouldn't you stay here?" he asked and you immediately shook your head, before your lips could even say it.

"They're my family now. I still adore you, everyone here, but I'm going back to the sea." Your answer seemed to disappoint him. "You know it's always been my dream."

"I know it's selfish of me." the man approached, holding your wrists and, more gently than you expected, he guided you against the wall. "I like you, I always have. If you want, we can go to the sea together, we can form a family, we can…"

"I have a boyfriend." Leo laughed in disbelief, still keeping your arms tied to his, in an even tighter grip. "Leo, you've always been my best friend. Let's not ruin that."

"Friends? You've been missing for years!" he growled, slamming your fists against the wall.

For a few seconds Zoro chose to just watch, hatred was in his eyes and if it weren't for your presence there, Leo would already be just a memory in this world. He knew you weren't a lady in distress and that if you wanted to get out of there, you would get out easily. But there was something written in your eyes, something he saw very few times in battle - fear.

Before the man repeated the gesture, you watched Leo's face get closer and when he was millimeters away, he stopped. His eyes immediately widened and before you understood what the glow was on the side of his neck, you saw a small trickle of blood appear on the man's jugular vein.

"Get your filthy hands off my girlfriend…" Zoro's low tone was even more threatening than if he had been shouting. "Before I take them out of your arms."

"So it's him." Leo muttered, frustration clear in his voice. "I should have suspected."

"I'm sorry." you whispered, without even understanding why you were apologizing.

"I could kill you right now and believe me, I'm still debating whether to do it." Zoro approached, now allowing Leo's entire neck to be covered by the blade. "But I'd hate to ruin the banquet."

"Don't worry about that." Leo threatened to pull his sword, but this time it was you who held his hand.

"Just go back there Leo, let's pretend this didn't happen." you asked and Zoro could now notice how stressed you looked, but at the same time relief appeared on your face.

"She's right." Zoro muttered, moving even closer to the man. "Let's pretend none of this happened and maybe tomorrow you won't wake up just to choke on your blood and die."

"Zoro!" Your voice sounded like a warning to him, who lowered his sword and let the man leave.

For a few seconds, the two of you just watched each other. It was good to be able to have your boyfriend there, finally within walking distance of you.

"How are you feeling?" Zoro took the initiative and held your hands, as if analyzing where the man touched you. When you felt them trembling, he placed a quick kiss between your fingers. "Did he do anything else?"

"No, he just wanted me to stay here." you let your body lean against the cold wall. "Why just now?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"All week I've been trying to reach you, bring you with me, integrate you with my friends here." you huffed, feeling Zoro get even closer to your body.

"I wanted to give you space." he lied and saw you laugh. The sound - which this time was exclusively for him - made Zoro's ego inflate.

"I didn't know you were the jealous type." a moan of relief almost escaped you when you felt his arms wrap around your waist.

"Not jealous, just protective."

"What's your bounty?" you imitated him, laughing again. "Isn't that jealousy?"

"No, kitten." this time, he let a soft laugh escape his lips.

"I am sorry dear." you sank into his chest, letting his hands slide down your back. "I was excited to see everything again and I didn't understand Leo's real intentions."

"And why didn't you defend yourself?" your eyes met his and then Zoro realized his mistake. "I mean, I'll always defend you, but I've seen you get out of worse situations."

"I know." Again you cuddled up, the cold wind sent shivers through your body. "It's just that he was a friend, you know? He saved me many times and I guess I didn't expect to have to fight with him. He was never a threat." The sound of Zoro's heart against your ear was comforting, it was like going back to any of the crows nest nights, where you would stay tangled up for hours. "I found his behavior strange, he was never like that, clingy. But I didn't know who to ask for help."

"I imagine it would be difficult." Zoro murmured, letting his lips touch the top of your head. "Sorry I didn't show up sooner, kitten." he teased you, getting another laugh from you.

"Time to stop this kitten."

"Are you sure, kitten?" he said again, but Zoro's voice came out a few octaves lower, his provocation took a new turn.

His hands that had been caressing your back found themselves on your waist and pressed you against the wall. One of them went up to your chin and held you steady, looking into his eyes, but not for long. Eliciting a moan, Zoro took your lips intensely. No time for little kisses, or any affection that could come first. His lips brought longing and the taste of sake, mixed with the sweetness of your lips.

One of his legs fit between your thighs, the hands that held your waist forced you against the fabric of his pants, moving you like an incentive. While the assault on your lips didn't stop, the heat in your intimacy began to accumulate and form a knot.

"Zoro, please." a strangled moan left your lips, trying hard to contain the noise and not attract the attention of anyone nearby.

"I'm here, love. I got you, just give it to me." his lips that bordered the sensitive spot below your ear took your lips and held all your moans just for him.

Zoro held you there for some time, sweat accumulated on your face as you were still panting. It was a version that didn't appear that often, but you loved it when Zoro lost himself caressing your face, letting his lips slide delicately across your skin.

"Zo, I think we should go back." despite yourself, you moved away from him a little. "By now, Leo should already have contact for everyone."

"Great, at least for one good thing this good-for-nothing will do." upon noticing your lost look, Zoro continued. "I was tired of hiding it."

"Are you sure?" his hands cupped your face, placing a chaste kiss on your lips.

"I love you woman, how can I not be sure of that?" the confession brought a huge smile to your lips.

"I love you more greenie."

Zoro took the lead and with his hand tied in yours, he guided you back to the fire. It was as if nothing had happened, everyone was still talking and drinking. Still feeling your legs weak from the little time you and Zoro had, you sat down and let him go get drinks.

Upon returning to his place, Zoro saw that even without saying anything, Leo was still staring at you, practically on the other side of the fire. With his chest puffed out in ego and relieved to finally have you back in his arms, Zoro sat behind you, so that you were between his legs and when he handed you your drink, he placed a kiss and a light bite on your neck. You were his and from now on that would be very clear.

"It can't be! It's too bad luck all at once!" Sanji's tearful voice attracted the attention of both of you and made you laugh out loud when you saw that the blonde was complaining precisely about the little scene between you two. "What does this mosshead have that I don't?"

"I knew!" Nami screamed and ripped Chopper's hat off. "You can go give me your money, you idiots."

"You guys bet on us?" you asked indignantly and to Nami, Usopp and Franky's joy, apparently they were the two winners.

"This world needs to end…" you laughed even harder when you saw Sanji handing the money to the navigator.

"That's it, now there are two idiots wanting what's mine." Zoro pulled you even closer to his body. "Only mine."

#reader insert #fiction #no use of y/n #requests open #zoro x you #zoro roronoa x reader #one piece zoro #zoro x reader #roronoa zoro x reader #one piece fic

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blorbocedes · 3 months ago

Note

For the trope mash-up: didnt mean to turn you on + innocent physical touch for franco 'milf-hunter' colapinto and checo/lewis

okay hear me out. what if checo was a woman instead 🤭🫣

Checo's had a fucking year.

The car is shit. She's been saying for so long but now they finally believe it as even Redbull’s wunderkind Max struggles in it. Every other interview, news cycle is about her retiring, her being unceremoniously kicked out as drivers salivate for her seat, her middling performance due to early pre-menopausal hormones? Just 2 years ago, she was the Mexican Queen of Defense, and now it's 'is she Redbull’s DEI hire?' The stories have become outlandish, announcing her second pregnancy and retirement at Mexican Grand Prix. That's why after Daniel, who had very clearly been brought in to replace her, was switched mid season she posted the Wolf of Wall Street clip on her instagram to make it clear: I’m not fucking leaving.

So forgive her if she's been seeking a little respite elsewhere.

There's a hot, young Argentine at Williams that's been eyeing her. Checo’s a woman on the F1 grid, she's been eyed like that thousands of times, most of it unwanted. Although, it fell off after she birthed the twins and her tits never returned to their glory days. So it's a little flattering reminder she's still got it. Being able to speak in the same language also helps, not having to translate everything for doublespeak. They have rapport.

“How old are you?” Checo asks at the club. She's not there to celebrate, she just needs a drink. Franco’s at the stage where finishing a race is cause for celebration.

“Twenty five.” Franco replies in her ear entirely too quickly, with a grin.

Checo raised an eyebrow. She didn't keep track of the rookies but she sure as hell knew they weren't doing twenty five year old rookies anymore.

A group of tourists seem to recognize her, probably fans and she's in no autographing mood so she pulls Franco in closer in front of her, to block her five foot four self from the world. He misreads the signal, but is all too happy to step in closer; personal space be damned.

“Okay. I lied. I didn't want to freak you out.” Franco confesses sheepishly.

Checo drinks her whiskey, assessing it. “I was winning karting races while you were in diapers, yes?”

It makes her feel old just saying it. She doesn't know how Fernando does it.

Franco nods, pupils going dark.

“And…” she raises her left hand, eyes pointing to her wedding ring.

Franco smirks. “I don't mind if you don't.” He leans in for the kiss, and Checo leans back denying him. Too public. She's learned from that mistake. She does put her left hand on his nape, stroking it and praising the boldness. It's dangerous, sleeping with another driver. When you're a woman, it gives them too much power. That's why Checo never acted on Max's obvious interest. But Franco doesn't have a seat next year yet... as temporary and harmless to her prospects as it gets.

“Come on,” Franco’s voice betrays the frustration underneath the trying hard to be suave, “I know you're thinking it too. You'd rather be on a boat with me than this totally lame club. And what I might lack in experience, I can make up for in stamina.” He practically purrs in her ear.

“A boat? Williams is not paying you that much.” Checo laughs, even as she entertains the line about stamina. James is a penny pincher to a fault. And Franco might get F1 groupies impressed with that line, but as the primary breadwinner she knows a little better.

Franco’s undeterred. “Your boat then. I can be your yacht boy.”

Now wouldn't Checo love to be sunning on a boat, no kids running around, being waited on hand and foot by an eager, younger man who can go for round two in ten minutes. God, she hasn't been filled up in a satisfying way in so long, her cunt throbs at the fantasy, aided by the tall, warm body in front of her.

Checo bites her lower lip, and looks around. Nobody around them in paying attention to the dark corner they're in anymore. She takes Franco’s hand and places it over her breast, holding his gaze. For all his smooth-talking, Franco seems momentarily stunned, mouth parting in surprise. He has naturally red lips, Checo wants to bite on it. He tentatively squeezes her breast, and after seeing her nod, starts kneading it, thumb trying to find her nipple through the layers of her polo shirt and sports bra.

“Can I please eat you?” Franco’s voice is husky as he begs.

#Franco/checo #ok but what if she's a woman and lowkey a deadbeat mom. hashtag representation #f1 rpf #my fics #blorbocedes ask

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d1xonss · 11 months ago

Text

Older

✧ Pairing : Daryl Dixon x Reader

✧ Era : Season 6

✧ Pronouns : she/her

✧ Genre : Suggestive (oop)

✧ Word Count : 5k

AN ~ …This one might need a part two, that’s all I’m going to say.

“Stop.”

Your mouth parted a little in shock that he had interrupted you, embarrassment filling your entire being as you could feel the heat rising up to your cheeks, no doubt leaving a red hue on your skin. You attempted to read him, trying to figure out what he was thinking just by his face and body language, but you were left with nothing. His expression was neutral, his arms were crossed over his chest as they always were, and his eyes didn’t even give you a flash of indication of what he planned to say next. Though somehow you had a feeling you knew it was something you would dread.

It had been years now that you had been crushing on the older man, from Atlanta to all the way here in your new homes in Alexandria, you had always felt these very strong feelings for him. And though you knew the age gap was definitely something to recognize, you never cared in the slightest as your fondness for him over the years only seemed to grow.

Daryl Dixon was a very serious man, though he mostly kept to himself, no one could deny that he was also a very kindhearted person. He was constantly putting others before himself, protecting nearly everyone in the group even if that meant his life was on the line instead, he did it as if it was just second nature to him. Like he didn’t even have to think before he acted. That’s what you admired most about him, only causing you to fall deeper than you already were, digging yourself further into the hole you couldn’t seem to escape.

It was hard for some to believe, but you truly tried to push these feelings aside, mostly because you thought there was no way in hell he would ever feel the same way about you. But it was growing to be unbearable, the secret you had been keeping to yourself for so long beginning to eat you up inside.

So you finally decided to bite the bullet and just tell him. You didn’t know what exactly compelled you to do so since you had such a huge fear of rejection from him and didn’t want him to see you differently, but still you just threw yourself into the lion’s den it seemed like. But there was a little hope you had when you approached him to confess. The soft smile playing on his lips was enough for you to spill everything, seeing that there was a small chance he might’ve felt something similar. It wasn’t a secret that he had grown to care for you too, so you guessed you could really take that chance.

But now all your hope diminished instantly when he interrupted your sentence with just one word. One single word that caused your stomach to flip. You felt yourself begin to panic a little as you stood there, seconds after pouring your heart out and laying everything out on the table, and he wanted you to stop. You suddenly wished you could take everything back in that split second, tell him you were joking or make something else up on the spot. Anything to escape from this sudden situation.

He then sighed heavily as he raised his hand up to pinch the bridge of his nose, “Look…yer a really sweet girl and I care bout ya…but…ya can’t be sayin all this. M’ way too old for ya.”

Your heart seemed to drop upon hearing that, knowing in the back of your mind, that little aspect would be the thing he brought all his attention to. You had to admit however that it was a pretty big difference, twenty years to be exact where you stood at twenty-four while he was already pushing forty-five. But still, you were an adult and felt that you could make your own choices when it came to something like this, something that he wasn’t willing to listen to any longer.

Daryl noticed your silence, seeing the look you had on your face and he grew almost sympathetic as he looked at you. “Look ya can’t be…fallin for me. It ain’t right.”

That sentence seemed to break you out of your trance. Annoyance began to brew inside you as he was now starting to almost talk down on you as if you were a kid, crossing your arms over your chest in frustration. “Who are you to tell me what isn’t right?” you asked with furrowed brows.

He noticed your change in mood and only sighed to himself again, “I just mean that…” he trailed off as he never wanted to hurt you or deny you, but honesty was more important to him. And this was something he knew he needed to be blunt about. “I ain’t the guy for ya, no matter how ya feel. We’re just too far apart.”

“That’s not true.” you were quick to defend.

Daryl’s eyes narrowed the smallest bit, “It is true.” he said a bit more sternly, “Yer so young and m’ a lot older…besides I ain’t what they call boyfriend material…it would never work.” he claimed.

Your eyes narrowed even further, “I’m not just some kid Daryl, how old do you even think I am?”

He scoffed to himself as he looked at you a little longer, “I dunno…” he spoke as he didn’t want you to really know the age that popped up in his head. If you were really as young as he thought, it would be disgusting to even think about being with you.

“I’m twenty four.”

His eyes widened slightly as he thought about your words for only a moment, before he went back to scoffing to himself, “Well if I didn’t know any better I’d say yer lyin.”

Your frustration only began to build up further as he didn’t believe you. Though maybe he did. Maybe he did believe you, he just didn’t want to believe you. He didn’t want to admit or accept that your age wasn’t as bad as he originally thought, he just put up a wall to defend himself like he always seemed to.

But you were prepared to call him out on his bullshit. “If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were scared.”

“Scared?” he repeated, his lip turning up into an amused smile, “And what am I scared of?”

“Scared of your own feelings.” you said with little to no hesitation at all, stating the obvious and seeing right through him.

The man’s expression remained the same, but something in his eyes flickered with something more, and you couldn’t help but smirk to yourself once you caught it. He stayed silent for what felt like an eternity, pondering over your words as he desperately didn’t want you to see his hesitance as he stood there with a straight face. But you had clearly caught on.

After almost minutes of deafening silence, he finally spoke again in a sarcastic tone, “So ya think ya got me all figured out then, huh?”

You could see his exterior cracking the smallest bit and decided to take a chance. You began to move forward slowly, closing the remaining space between the two of you from the opposite sides of where you stood in his living room. His eyes widened ever so slightly as you got almost uncomfortably close to him, your chests nearly touching as you looked up to him with big doe eyes.

“Yeah…yeah I do.” you answered barely above a whisper.

Daryl subtly sucked in a soft breath at your words, your close proximity, everything that just seemed to draw him in. He desperately wanted to take a few steps away, wanting to tell you something harsh so you would stop being so damn persistent, but he couldn’t seem to find the strength. He stood there almost completely frozen as his heart began beating rapidly, questioning if you could hear it in the silence with how close you were to him.

You could feel yourself smirk slightly as he grew completely silent again, nodding to yourself as you decided to stop tormenting him. At least for now. “Well…since you made your intentions clear…I guess I’ll just see you around then…” you said quietly before turning on your heel to leave his house, to leave him to his now racing thoughts.

His tongue seemed to be tied into a knot as all he could do was watch you leave through the front door, a heat blooming on his cheeks. He began questioning to himself if all of that really just happened, if he was really as transparent as you claimed he was. His mind began to spiral with thousands of thoughts, but not even he could deny that small spark he felt in his chest, one that he had never felt before.

The next day wasn’t any better for him, his mind constantly flooding with the thoughts of that small interaction, not stopping himself from thinking back to your confession as a whole. There was no way he could feel such a thing for someone as young as you…could he? It all felt very wrong and twisted in a way, but he couldn’t stop thinking of you constantly throughout the entire day, how complicated everything seemed to be. He didn’t pull away. Why the hell didn’t he pull away? It was almost as if he liked your closeness, being able to almost feel the warmth of your body…almost as if he craved it more than he realized.

Over the few years he had gotten to know you, he couldn’t deny that he thought you were very beautiful from the start, but he didn’t dare let his mind linger there for long. There was no way he could be with you, it all seemed so wrong to him in his mind and he had to put a stop to those thoughts immediately once they entered his mind. But with everything that went down yesterday, he couldn’t help but be reminded of those familiar feelings he once seemed to have long ago, seeing them rise back up to the surface before his very eyes.

He needed to see you. He couldn’t help but think about you throughout the entire day as if you had somehow put him under a spell, compelling him to eventually crawl back. He didn’t know what he planned to say, he didn’t even know if he should even try to speak about this hovering matter anymore. But he physically needed to see you again. Even if it was just for a few minutes. He needed to feel that spark again.

So after his long patrol, he found himself heading straight towards your house the second he was finished, walking at a fast pace down the streets all the way up until he could see your familiar house just around the corner. His breathing was almost heavy in anticipation as he got closer, hopping up the porch steps in a flash before he hesitated when he was face to face with your front door. He hesitated for a long moment, longer than he was willing to admit, before he finally gave it a heavy knock.

You were inside cooking yourself some dinner when you heard a loud knock coming from your front door, your brows furrowing in confusion at who it could be as you quickly cleaned your hands off with a towel. You made your way closer towards the entrance with a little anticipation weighing in your heart, the sound of the firm knock sounding like it was something urgent. But the moment you looked through the peephole and saw who was standing on the other side, you immediately smirked to yourself. You almost couldn't believe he was actually seeking you out.

You opened the door after a moment or two, leaning against the frame with a smile as you looked at him with a smile, “Hi Daryl.” you greeted with a hint of flirtation to your voice.

Your tone surprised him slightly as he stopped for a moment to take you in, his nerves resurfacing the moment you looked him in the eye. But eventually he cleared his throat a little and sent you a small smile, “Hey.”

“Did you need something?” you asked sweetly.

You were playing with him now, both of you knew it too. He didn’t exactly know what he came over here for, almost as if he didn’t really know what he wanted, but all he could feel was that same feeling rushing over him again once more at the sound of your voice. It was almost comforting to him, something he hadn’t felt in a very long time, and his heart began to beat even faster once he realized just how much he needed more of it.

You tilted your head at him expectantly, and it was then and only then he realized he didn’t answer your question. He shook his head a little to rid of his loud thoughts before finally mustering up a response. “Nah…I don’t need anythin. Just…just wanted to see ya.”

He could see your eyes soften as you looked up at him through your long eyelashes, the sight bringing a warmth through his chest, settling at the bottom of his stomach as he looked at you. “Aw…that’s so sweet.” you said as you placed a hand over your chest.

His eyes widened ever so slightly as he heard just the smallest bit of praise from you, if you could even call it that. But he found he liked the sound of you calling him sweet, and he found he loved the idea of you calling him other things. He felt himself slip almost as your words seemed to affect him well, almost a little too well, feeling himself swallow thickly as he tried to figure out what to say to you next.

“Do…do you mind if I come in for a bit?” he mustered up.

Your face dropped a little bit upon hearing that, though mentally you almost felt yourself light up at the sudden opportunity to turn the tables around on him. “Oh…I don’t know…” you trailed off as you eventually let the smirk return to your face, “Wouldn’t that be…wrong?” I asked with a hinting tone.

The man was stunned a little as his only response to you was silence. He stood there almost completely still at the sound of you throwing his own words back up at his face like that, but then again you had a point. He did say those things to you, he made it very obvious and certain. Yet he couldn’t help but silently smirk to himself at the game you seemed to be playing now.

“I don’t think it’s such a good idea…” you continued on.

He hears his own phrase being used against him again and damn did it feel better than it should’ve. He found himself growing a little excited as you continued on, leaning himself against the doorway a little as he looked down at you with almost hungry eyes.

“Well…maybe I like doin things that are wrong.” he stated.

You clicked your tongue in response as you shook your head, “That’s not what you said the other day, I heard you…I’m just following the rules.” you said as you moved to shut the door.

But his hand came up and quickly caught it before you could shut him out all the way, pushing it back open a little with a raised brow. “Now what’s with you and all these goddamn rules now, hm? Who even made em?” he asked as he felt himself falling right into your trap, flirting right back with you like you wanted.

“You did.” you said simply, watching his face drop a little at your response, “You made it very clear, and I understand...” you said simply before moving to shut the door right in his face.

The man was stunned to say the least seeing the door almost touching the tip of his nose, his expression flustered and his heart hammering. He groaned to himself in annoyance as he slowly turned on his heel to leave, his irritation not directed at you per say, but how you made him feel.

It was far too complicated, but you were playing him like a damn fiddle and he knew it. He supposed that maybe he deserved a little of the shit you were giving him seeing as he turned you down in the first place, but how much were you willing to drag this on for? He was growing attached, too attached, and now he was wrapped around your little finger instead of the other way around. He saw how desperate you looked in the beginning as you confessed everything to him, he saw that look in your eye. But now you had completely flipped the script and made him out to be the one growing desperate. It was frustrating…but in the most captivating way.

A week seemed to pass by in a flash just like that, the two of you going back and forth, leading to you teasing him to no end. He knew there were plenty of times where he could’ve just walked away from the situation, but he was so tempted to keep playing along in the game you entertained. And it was working more than he was willing to admit, his mind not being able to stop thinking about you and slowly feeling himself break. He didn’t want to cave and admit how much he had been thinking of you, how much he wanted you, but it was getting harder and harder every time he saw you. Every bat of your eyelashes, every flash of your small and perfect smile had him absolutely crumbling.

And what he seemed to be dreading the most now was a bonfire being hosted by a neighbor in the community, everyone being invited to the event.

At first Daryl debated on going at all, knowing that you would probably be there taunting him in the best way you knew how. But he couldn’t help but want to feed into that temptation, just looking for another excuse to see you again. Though in all honesty he didn’t know how much longer he could keep this up. How much longer he could hold out as you played with him until he would completely break right in front of your eyes for you to see. He hated to admit it even to himself, but he was growing more and more desperate for you, which he knew is exactly what you wanted. But he didn’t care at this point. He would let you do whatever you wanted to him if he knew he could finally have you.

You on the other hand however were looking forward to the event. You took your time picking out your outfit, settling on a shorter skirt and a black top that left just enough to the imagination, almost not being able to contain your excitement and mischief when thinking about seeing him again. In all honesty, you didn’t expect him to continue to feed into what was supposed to be just a little teasing, it surprised you beyond repair to see him playing along as much as he was. Though you knew he had grown to like it, he had grown to fall for you more than before. And you loved it.

Once the day was finally over and the stars just began to rise into the sky, the time came for everyone to attend the little get together as the bonfire was beginning to light up Alexandria with its orange glow. People began to arrive in pairs and groups to the get together, greeting one another politely with smiles and hugs, but Daryl found himself planted in the corner of the small party. His eyes kept scanning around for you subconsciously, his nerves only growing as he convinced himself not to fall apart for you, to not fall into his desires.

But then he caught sight of you finally arriving, seeing the things you were wearing, and he immediately seemed to lose his train of thought right then and there. He was now reminded why he so desperately wanted to give in, why he wanted to give away every part of himself to you as he watched you smile and greet a few people passing by. You knew how to get to him, how to make him nervous, knowing exactly which strings to pull to get him all hot and bothered. It’s all what made you so absolutely alluring.

He watched you from a distance for a while with his arms crossed over his chest, not being able to approach you as you always seemed to be speaking with someone. His patience was growing thin and his destress was building as all he wanted was to talk to you, to see you up close. The way you were dressed, the way you wore your hair up only to have a few stray pieces aligning your face, it was beginning to drive him crazy.

But then an opportunity seemed to open up right before his very eyes as he saw you walk away off by yourself, just close enough towards the fire to feel the warmth, yet far enough from everyone else so he could finally approach you. He swallowed thickly at the thought of the things he was easily getting himself into, but he couldn’t help it as it seemed like his feet had minds of their own, practically floating right over to you. His steps were quiet as he approached you from behind, not wanting to scare you, but wanting to catch you off guard for once.

When he was finally close enough just to hover over you, it was only then that he spoke, “Hey.” he said quietly.

But you hardly even flinched, as if you knew of his presence approaching the whole time as you turned to look at him with a smile, “Hi Daryl.”

God the way you said his name drove him almost to a point of insanity, wanting you to say it over and over again as you voice was sweet and warm like honey. It’s almost impossible to resist you in this moment in time, taking in your appearance up close and getting a whiff of your intoxicating perfume as a gust of wind blows by was enough to send him over the edge. Leading to a point of no return.

But still, he somehow managed to keep his composure, “You look nice.” he commented sweetly, a small smile crossing his lips.

Your eyes practically lit up at the compliment he gave you, subconsciously smoothing down your skirt as you looked up at him, “You think so?” you subtly flirted.

His mouth parted to respond, but he couldn’t seem to find the right words. But he does think so, in fact he’s thinking almost a little too much about how amazing you look in front of the glowing fire.

A smirk was brought to your face as he didn’t respond to your question, diverting his attention to your body once more as your voice quieted down to a whisper, “You don’t think my skirt’s too…short…right?”

His eyes seemed to trail back down just as you wanted them too, eyeing your legs for a dangerously long time at the brief question that fell from your lips. His mouth was agape as he found he couldn’t look away, the feeling bubbling inside him almost being too overbearing as he desperately tried to swallow and lubricate his dry throat.

Though he eventually found himself shaking his head as his gaze trailed back up to your eyes, “Nah…it’s fine.” he breathed.

“You sure?” you asked again playfully, “I can always go home and change if you think it’s too much-”

“N-No,” he interrupted quickly, “I kinda like it actually.” he blurted before his mind even had a chance to stop him. Though he feels the embarrassment wash over him the moment the words left his mouth, coming to the realization of what he had just said.

But much to his relief, he saw you smile a bit wider, “I’m glad you like it…” you admitted as you suddenly leaned in further to him to whisper in his ear, “...I wore it just for you.”

Daryl’s body went rigid and his mind seemed to go completely blank, his heart beating twice as fast as it was before. Just for him? You wore that pretty little thing just for him? His mouth became very dry once again, his knees feeling weaker, especially when you laughed lightly to yourself at his speechless state, pulling back a little to stand next to him normally before anyone could notice. Oh god, it hit him, what if anyone noticed.

His eyes then did a quick scan around the sea of people, but none of them seemed to catch onto the interactions he was having with such a young girl. That sent a wave of relief through him, bringing his attention back towards you as you hadn’t stopped staring at him the entire time it seemed like.

“So…are you enjoying yourself?” you ask him with a seductive tone to your voice.

The older man sucked in a breath at your tone, seeing that twinkle in your eye that was nearly impossible to resist, “Yeah…I am.” he finally responded.

You smile to yourself as you heard his confirmation, “Good.” you nodded.

He then quietly groaned to himself, almost as if he couldn’t take it anymore, turning to face you better as he collected himself and looked you in the eye, “Why ya always gotta tease me like that?”

You physically felt the wicked grin cross over your face, “Because it’s fun.” you said simply, slowly venturing out to tease him further as you reached out to trail your finger up and down his clothed, toned arm. “But if you don’t like it…I can stop.”

His breathing then became shaky as he nearly quivered under the small ounce of your touch, only imagining what it would be like if you touched him even more. But then it hit him that you threatened to stop playing with him as much as you were, breaking him out of his thoughts as he could still feel your touch burning through the fabric of his shirt.

“...Never said I didn’t like it…”

Your gaze looked back up at his face as your movements stopped completely, your faces only inches apart now it seemed like in such a public setting. “Are you sure…? You can be honest if you don’t want this anymore.” you teased again.

He almost caught himself groaning again as you stopped touching him, not even imagining any scenario where he could ever say no to you. In fact, all of this was just slowly feeding more into the desire and lust that continued to build.

“No, no…I want this.” he assured quickly, in fear that you would completely pull away if he didn’t answer you fast enough.

Seeing him near his breaking point, so close to dangling over the edge, you wondered if you could get him to admit it out loud. You fully took your hand away then, leaning in further to whisper. “Tell me what you want.”

Daryl’s mind goes on some kind of frenzy as he could only think of you. Your voice, your touch, everything. He only wanted you.

“I want you…” he finally broke.

Though upon hearing his answer, he saw your eyes forming into almost sympathy as you stared at him, similar in the way he looked at you when you confessed your feelings for him. “Oh…but you know that’s not allowed.” he hears you say with a sigh.

All logical reason leaves the man’s mind in an instant it seems like as he watched you deny him, feeling as if you were going to pull away fully and reject him for good. He felt defeated as all he wanted now was for you to give it up, stop toying with him and finally give in to let him have you. He learned his lesson, that much was certain, now all he needed to do was convince you somehow.

“Please…”

The moment you heard his plea, you nearly shivered in anticipation seeing how much he was falling apart now, not being able to handle it anymore. But still, you didn’t cave right away. “You said I was too young.” you gently reminded him.

“I don’t care.” he whispers without a second thought, his voice barely being able to come out at all. He found he didn’t care anymore, all he could think about was you. How much he wanted you, needed you. Now.

Your eyes widen in the smallest bit of surprise at his sudden desperateness, “But you do care. You told me so yourself.”

He shakes his head almost frantically, “No, no, that was then. This is now. Nobody even needs to know…we can keep it between us…”

Shock is evident on your features at his suggestion, something about it making you want to finally give it up and give into his requests. That is what you were trying to do since the beginning, making him realize how much he truly wanted you, and now you had it. All you had to do was say the word.

He sees the look of consideration on your face, a feeling of hope filling his chest as he leans closer to you, “Please…” he whispered once more.

You swallowed a bit thickly as your prepared to open your mouth to respond to him, but another voice quickly cut into the silence between you two, causing Daryl to practically jump away from you suddenly as if he was just burned.

“Y/N!” Carol’s voice called out as she approached, completely oblivious to what was just happening moments ago, “Come on, there’s some new people I want you to meet.” she said eagerly as she took you by the arm, and dragging you away from the man.

Daryl huffed in irritation as he watched you get pulled away, collecting himself quickly as he looked around and licked his lips in annoyance. The older man was now just stuck there alone as you were taken elsewhere, left to ponder over the things that was said between you two. It’s almost a painful fate he was placed in, but yet it’s the one he deserved for playing along with you in the first place.

~ Thanks for reading!

Part 2!

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heavyhitterheaux · 4 months ago

Text

On Bended Knee

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: You and Jack go to a series of therapy sessions to talk about your marriage that you honestly feel in the back of your mind is going to lead to the two of you being separated and Jack is desperately trying for it not to happen

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Mentions of postpartum depression, death, and miscarriage

“So, what is bringing us in today?” Fatima, your therapist asked both you and Jack as the two of you were sitting at opposite ends of the couch in front of her.

Jack glanced over at you and you simply had your head resting on your arm as you looked straight ahead so he figured that he needed to be the one to speak first.

“We are at odds like we've never been before and I don't know what else to do. It seems like I take five steps forward and ten steps back when it comes to her. I love my wife and I can't see myself without her.” He quietly said as Fatima smiled at him and nodded. She then turned to you.

“Y/N? Would you agree with that?”

“To a certain extent, yes. But I reached my breaking point a long time ago.”

Hearing that made Jack’s heart drop.

“Tell me more.”

“The man who claims that he's my husband and sitting across from me is someone that I truly no longer recognize as far as some of his actions go. Because the Jack that I know wouldn't do those things in a million years.”

“Such as?”

“Making me feel that my thoughts and feelings are invalid. We've been together since we were fifteen years old, got married at 19, but something switched in 2022 when his fame went to an entire new level. Our relationship has been tested and I don't know if it's even worth saving at this point.”

Jack turned to look at you in disbelief because he couldn't believe that those words came out your mouth.

“Babe…”

“No. You begged me to come to therapy with you so you need to put your big boy pants on even if it's something that you don't want to hear. Because trying to talk to you at home is obviously not working. You asked for this so don't shy away now.” You told Jack as you finally looked at him. All he did was play with his wedding ring and nod before turning back to look at Fatima.

You and Jack had barely been speaking to one another and it seemed as if the arguments over little things were getting more and more frequent. You were sitting in the living room since you had just fed the triplets as Jack came and sat next to you.

You glanced over at him, but didn't speak as you turned back around to look at the TV. This was the first time you were able to have peace and quiet all day and the last thing you wanted was to argue with him again. Because at this point, you knew that the two of you were not on the same page.

“Baby?”

“What?” You said and it came out a little harsher than you intended.

“I don't want to keep fighting with you. We're on the same team.”

“Are we? Hadn't noticed since it doesn't seem like it.”

“Y/N, come on. You know we are.” He told you as he attempted to grab your hand. He was surprised when you didn't move away from him.

“Some of your actions state otherwise.”

“I want to fix this and I know you do too. I signed up for marriage counseling and we meet the therapist on Wednesday. I just…. We need to get on the same page if we want this marriage to last.”

You turned to look at him and simply sighed before crossing your arms over your chest.

“And if this doesn't work, then what?”

“Babe, that isn't an option.”

“And you didn't answer my question, Jackman. Tell me what will happen if it doesn't work?”

“I don't have an answer because I don't plan on that happening. We love each other and we’re going to get through this.”

“I'm not sure that I want to go.” You told him being completely honest.

“Can I ask why?”

“If you can't even listen to me when we're at home, what makes you think it'll be any different in therapy?”

“Y/N, you're shaking your head as Jack is talking. What are you thinking?”

“He remembers that a lot differently than I do. I told him not once, but multiple times that she made me uncomfortable, but he steadily ignored me. So much so that he actually asked her to be in his video for First Class.”

“But, you're in it, are you not?”

“Yes, only because I stopped what I was doing when I saw her post a picture of the both of them on Instagram and she was sitting in his lap. He claimed that she took the pic so fast that he didn't even have time to react. I went to where they were shooting the video and told her to leave and made her delete the picture. Oh, and when I actually did fight her because this had been building up for months with her constantly harassing me, never not once did he ask me if I was okay. Instead he acted mean as hell towards me because the only thing he seemed to be concerned about was our reputation in the public eye and not my actual well-being. We were both at home for a few days after which ended in another argument and him leaving.”

“But you left out the part where you had talked to me the same day that it happened and said absolutely nothing and tried to hide it. I was in a whole different state when I found out and caught a flight to Atlanta to confront you about it because you had stopped answering your phone. There was no need to lie to me about that.”

“Yes there was because I knew you would lose your shit which you did when you came and saw me backstage before my show.”

“Because you could've gotten hurt!”

“Hmm, nice try. I think you meant damage your reputation because those words didn't even come out of your mouth when it happened.”

“Just because I'm mad at you doesn't mean that I want any harm to come to you. You're my wife! Why would I want you to put yourself in a situation which could lead to you getting hurt? That's what I was mad about.”

“Wouldn't have had to be in that situation if you would have established boundaries with her from the beginning. I'm your wife. We share a last name. Not her.”

Therapy had been going steady for the first three weeks and Jack simply didn't know how to feel at this point. He wasn't able to read you as of lately and had it in the back of his mind that a divorce would be coming soon and you would be the one to ask for it.

And that made him sick to his stomach.

When you were pregnant, it seems like everything was halted and the two of you put your issues to the side. But as soon as they were born and you had healed from it, everything had come back up to the surface. It also didn't help that Jack knew you were also going through postpartum depression.

It was one in the morning and he had gone for a drive after checking on you as well as the triplets and making sure all of you were okay. He didn't have an exact destination in mind, but he simply pulled out his phone and took a deep breath before dialing his mother’s number. He was absolutely desperate at this point.

Maggie picked up on the third ring and he could tell that she was still wide awake by all of the background noise which he assumed was the TV.

“Hey honey, everything okay?”

“No.”

When Maggie heard how distressed her oldest child sounded she immediately grew concerned.

“What's going on? Are Y/N and the babies okay?”

“They're fine, but umm…” Jack trailed off as he struggled to say his next sentence.

“But what?”

“I honestly think deep down that Y/N is going to divorce me and I… can't live without her. I haven't had to do it in so long that I wouldn't even know where to start. She's the love of my life and the mother of my kids. I can't lose her.”

“What exactly makes you think that she will?”

“We're going to therapy but there's such a huge disconnect that I don't think we'll be able to fix. She didn't have high expectations going into it so…”

“Can I be honest?” Maggie asked and took a deep breath after doing so. However, Jack had a strong feeling that he already knew what she was about to say.

“You saw this coming, didn't you?” Jack asked as he turned onto Bardstown and was casually driving throughout the city.

“Yes from a mile away. I don't know what exactly happened, but 2022 was the start of the rift being made in your relationship with each other. And I've pulled you aside a few times and warned you that how you were acting wasn't a good portrayal of the person I raised you to be or the husband that I know you are towards Y/N. That girl basically worships the ground you walk on and you used to do the same thing. The fame got to you and you were starting to achieve your goals and she was supportive of you. You didn't give her the same support in return and now look where you two are.”

“What do I do to fix this? I need her to forgive me.”

“Then you need to remind her of how much you love and care about her. Because your actions haven't reflected that you do.”

“And what if that doesn't work?”

“Then you'll be signing divorce papers.”

“Definitely can't forget how he thought I was cheating on him and he actually followed me to see what I was doing.”

“I apologized for that. I was paranoid. I had been gone a lot and missed you.”

“What did Y/N do to make you think that she was cheating?” Fatima asked Jack as he once again started to play with his wedding ring.

“Not spending time with me like she said she would when I finally got back home and she would lie about where she was going so I followed her.”

“And what came of that?”

“She was planning a surprise party for me because First Class had done so well. And she then explained who every single person was that she had met up with. She was just trying to keep it a secret as best as she could. But the day of the party unbeknownst to me of course, I confronted her about it and the look she gave me was utter disbelief and I then knew that I had fucked up. She did show up eventually to the party and then went on her festival run and left that same night.”

“Y/N, is that how you remember it?”

“Yes, I just couldn't fathom that he thought that I would ever want to do something to hurt our marriage. I haven't looked another man's way since we started dating and I still don't. He's everything that I ever wanted and more so what would be the point of that? It just really hurt me. I have this man's name tattooed on my body for everyone to see so why would I do that?”

“I can tell by the way you're talking about it that it still hurts you.”

“It does and the thing is that I am always putting everyone else's needs before my own. I have a big heart and that has always been the case. But I feel that Jack used that to his advantage.”

“How so?”

“If he called and said that he needed me, everything else would be forgotten at that moment. It doesn't matter anymore and we can go back to it once I go and make sure he’s okay. It didn't matter that I was trying to establish a career of my own. If my baby needed me, nothing was going to stop me from getting to him. It didn't matter how big or small the issue was and he knew that.”

“Hmm, Jack, what are your thoughts on that?”

“Now that she said it out loud, I can admit to taking advantage of her as horrible as that sounds. I never want to do that to my wife. I would call her because I know that out of anyone at the end of the day she has my back and my best interest. However, I also should have taken into consideration what she was trying to do for her career at that time because I was the one who pushed her to do it and make a name for herself.”

“And I still put people's needs before my own. It's something that I have to learn to stop doing. That also takes me back to the whole Anitta thing.”

“What about her?”

“She threatened to release a portion of our sex tape in May and Jack didn't even tell me until December. That's when I called off the wedding, when I found out he lied to me.”

“Jack, why didn't you tell her?”

“I thought I could handle it on my own and simply make it go away. I wanted to shield her from that since a lot had happened between the two of them already. Not the smartest choice since it led to us not doing our big wedding for our five year anniversary.”

“And then I went on tour and found out I was pregnant…. With triplets.”

“And told me in a text message because we really weren't talking during that time.”

Urban glanced at you as you were feeding Autumn and called your name to get your attention. He had come over to check on you because you hadn't been acting like yourself and wanted to see if there was anything that he could do to make it better.

“Lil Bit.”

“Yes?” You answered as you looked up at him.

“Are you and Jack okay?”

“Depends on what your definition of okay is.”

“I… the two of you just seem sad and out of it lately.” Seeing his best friends’ marriage crumble before his eyes was not on this year's bingo card.

“Well we started going to therapy and Jack practically had to beg me to go. I don't know, Urban. I love him and we all know that's true. But the question is if our marriage is worth saving at this point?”

“Only the two of you are going to be able to answer that question at this point. I can't answer that for either of you. But I know that Jack loves you all the same and that he's doing everything he can to show you that he deserves another chance to get this right. He doesn't want to lose you.” Urban told you as you simply nodded and adjusted Autumn in your arms.

“My thing is that it should have never come to this.”

“I agree, but what's done is done and the only thing that the two of you can do is move forward. The triplets deserve to see a happy marriage between their parents and know what real love looks like.”

As soon as those words left Urban's mouth, it got you thinking that maybe he was right. You honestly couldn't see yourself with anyone except him despite all the two of you had gone through that year.

“But so much has happened and I… just don't know anymore.”

“You know that you love him. I know that loving someone isn't the only thing you need in order to make it work but it's a good start.”

“As the two of you sit in front of me, I've heard the good, the bad, and the ugly when it comes to your marriage, but I know one thing for certain. The two of you undeniably love each other despite everything that has happened. Yes, there were hardships and plenty of ups and downs, but Y/N, every time you even talk Jack lights up and looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. Usually in this room, it ends up being the complete opposite because by the time that couples get to me they are too far gone.”

She glanced at both of you and it looked as if you wanted to say something.

“Y/N? What's on your mind?”

“Um, I was just thinking that because of everything that happened, I wanted to separate from him for a while.”

Jack didn't dare let you see it, but tears had pricked his eyes.

“But, I have decided not to. If he's doing all of this and trying to put the effort in then I guess I can give him another chance. Because when I had suggested going to therapy and doing things to hopefully help us repair the relationship, he just waved me off. I feel as though this was too little too late but…”

“Y/N, it wasn’t too late because the two of you are sitting in front of me. That goes to show me despite it all, deep down you still had hope for your marriage too.”

“I have three kids to think about.”

��No, that's not it. Even though they deserve to see what love and happiness looks like, you also deserve the same thing. Jack, how does that make you feel hearing that Y/N wanted to separate from you?”

“It hurts. I've been in love with her since I first laid eyes on her. I know I've messed up and I can understand why she feels that way. I wasn't treating her how she deserved to be treated and it shouldn't have taken me almost losing her to realize that. She died in front of me not once, but twice. But I had already made it up in my mind that if I became a widow, there was no way in hell that I was marrying someone else.”

“And I'm not totally innocent either, but at one point I was damn near walking on eggshells and I shouldn't have to do that in my marriage. And you could have married someone else. I would not want you to be lonely for the rest of your life.”

“No, because I would always compare her to you and when it comes to you, no one comes close.” Jack said as he turned to you and took your hand in his.

“Besides, I was also scared that you were probably going to haunt me if I did.” He told you and a small smile broke out on your face.

“So with that being said, I have homework for the two of you. If you want to start to repair this marriage and make it work, start dating each other again. It seems like ever since the triplets have been born that the two of you actually haven't spent time with each other with just the two of you. Let me know how this goes and I honestly can't wait to hear about it.”

The night was winding down at the Kentucky State Fair as you and Jack were sharing a funnel cake piled high with powdered sugar and strawberries. The two of you rode so many different things and decided that it was time for food before it was closing time. A few people had asked you and Jack for pictures, but for the most part they were keeping their distance and you almost felt normal. You guess it was the fact that they saw the two of you out and about so often.

As the two of you were eating, you looked at Jack and giggled, noticing that he had powdered sugar on his nose.

“What? Why are you laughing at me?” He asked as he pinched your cheek.

“You have powdered sugar on your nose.” You told him as you wiped it off and then kissed the tip of it making him smile.

“Did you want anything else before we leave?” He asked and your eyes lit up as you looked towards the pigs that were across from the two of you. Jack followed your gaze and his eyes went wide.

“Baby, NO.”

“But….”

“I meant food wise! We have two pigs already! And the ones over there are huge! They're bigger than me!”

“Exaggerating much? Can't I just look!? Piggy Smalls and Pork Chop need a sibling.”

“They have one in the house already as in the bacon I ate this morning.” Jack replied as he began laughing.

“JACKMAN!”

“You can look from here. Now didn't you say you wanted fried oreos?”

“Yes, but you're forgetting something.”

“What's that babe?” He asked as he fed you the last of the funnel cake and made sure to get all of the powdered sugar off of your face.

“You haven't won me a stuffed animal yet.”

“Let’s do it then. Which stuffed animal do you want?”

“The pig since you won't let me buy another one.”

“The two of you are smiling, so I take that as a good sign.” Fatima said as she looked at you and Jack and she that the two of you were basically sitting on top of each other and nodded.

“So, the dates went well?”

“Yes, we went bowling, he took me to the state fair, and we went to Vincezo's. We also had a cooking date where we made pasta from scratch. Surprised that Jack lived to tell the tale after that one.”

“HEY! I thought I did pretty good!”

“I mean it did end up being edible so I guess.” You told him as you laughed and he scrunched up his nose.

“We've come a long way. The two of you came to me about six months ago and Y/N was ready to call it quits. And now look at the two of you. Communicating how you should and taking the time out for each other. Just because you have kids doesn't mean you two and your well being gets put on the back burner. As of now, we can continue these sessions if the two of you want, but I truly don't see a need.”

“Oh, there was another thing.” Jack started to say and Fatima looked at him to continue.

“I played her ‘Down on Bended Knee’ because I feel that it summed up the point that we were at in our relationship. I was desperate and willing to do anything for her to forgive me and make her see that she is still the only person that I want to do life with.

“That’s an amazing song choice. I know you were at a loss. Dealing with her dying in front of you, the birth of the triplets and the possibility of losing your only son, the miscarriage, Y/N working her way through postpartum depression and that isn't even all of it. But the two of you pushed through all of it with the undying love that you share between each other and I'm so proud of the both of you.”

“Now, I feel like I can finally get the big wedding that I always wanted.” You said confidently as you twirled your wedding ring around your finger not knowing that Jack had already started planning it in the back of his mind.

Jack noticed how you were looking at him as the two of you were laughing on your first date night in a while since the two of you had been so busy with everything going on around you. The triplets were with Urban and the two of you had finally finished going to marriage counseling, however, Fatima told the two of you to reach out whenever you needed her no matter how big or small.

The two of you were still seeing your regular therapists and it was helping you communicate better with one another to set up to have a positive household environment for the triplets.

“Why are you looking at me like that baby girl?” Jack asked as he stole a sip of your iced tea and then slid it back across the table.

“Nothing. I’m just really happy.” You said while smiling back at him.

“Why, is it because I rearranged your guts this morning or? I mean I can do it again once we leave here too, it’s not a problem. Just say the word.”

“Jackman! Shut up!” You responded and continued to laugh.

“What? I was just asking.” Jack said as he shrugged.

“You want me to be honest?” You said while starting to play with the fabric at the bottom of your dress.

“Of course I want you to be honest with me. That’s all I ever want.”

“I’m trying to think of the best way to describe it.”

“Take your time, sweetheart. We have all night.”

“Loving you feels lighter.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked as he was trying to understand what you were saying.

“I just feel that before with all that we were going through, I felt a heaviness I guess I should say. Every day I woke up not knowing if our marriage was going to survive and I hated having that feeling. I wanted for us to be okay again.”

“And now we finally are. And I’m thankful that you gave us another chance.”

“I mean you got me fucked up if you thought you were getting rid of me that easily. Been together since we were fifteen and love like that doesn’t go away overnight.”

“I never want to get rid of you, you know me better than that. If anything, my love for you continues to grow every single day. It doesn’t matter if we have a bad day or not. It’s just knowing that I have you by my side makes it all worth it because I know we’ll do anything for each other and make sure that the other is okay. No matter how big or small the issues might be.”

“Okay that will be the second time you made me cry today.” You said as you could feel the tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Don’t cry, baby! I’m just being honest. I honestly don’t think there’s enough words in any language on earth that can describe how much I love you and care about you."

"Yep, now I'm crying." You said through your tears and Jack immediately grabbed your left hand to kiss the back of it as he played with your wedding ring.

"Putting this ring on your finger was the best thing I've ever done and you have my heart. Always."

#jack harlow #jack harlow fic #jack harlow concepts #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow x black reader #jack harlow fanfic #jack harlow fluff #jack harlow imagine #jack harlow fanfiction #Spotify

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nectardaddy · 27 days ago

Text

YOU'D NEVER KNOW . . . k. sugawara + f! reader

♬ mentally exhausted // she don't recognize herself yet // and it's getting too much to bear // but it's hard to tell by looking at her // she seems so well put together // you'd never know

✩ you'd never know, evan honer

₊˚. notes/CWs : hurt/comfort, depression + anxiety, panic attack, nausea/feelings of wanting to vomit, feelings of self loathing, reader is a teacher, not proofread, self shippy as fuck I'm sorry, this felt good to write so just…don't perceive me

Her fingers hurt from the tight hold on the sink. Knuckles tensed and hands in an ironclad grip on the porcelain; the chips and dings on the side dug into the exposed skin of her hand, leaving small indentations and bruises from holding on for dear life.

Her chest was sore, her throat scratchy and hoarse, as each deep breath hurt worse than the last. In and out - what her therapist taught her. But she didn't believe her therapist had ever taught a room full of ten year olds, nor did she believe the professional would ever be stupid enough to do so. The deep breaths never worked. Filling up exhausted lungs with hot air could never be the solution to her problems.

Too many things to do, and not enough time.

For a moment she thought this was time wasted, bent over the sink heaving for air. Gasping and gulping for just a single, peaceful, deep breath. But she let the thought pass as soon as it came - she was always wasting time.

‘You're an asshole.’

‘I hate you.’

‘Why can't we do anything fun?’

‘Do we have to do this? Is this for a grade?’

‘Are your plans done for next week?’

‘What did you do for that child to act out like that?’

‘Remember your why.’

‘My child would never do that.’

‘You need to get a 70% passing rate or we'll lose our accreditation. We're counting on you!’

A never ending slew of questions, insults, assumptions, and standoffish statements landed her to the chasms of her own mind. Hunched over the bathroom sink, and fighting the urge to vomit. A swirling, dark, nauseating pit fell to her stomach like a rock in the morning and remained there all day; only now was she allowed to feel it. Only now, in the comfort of a rundown apartment bathroom, was she allowed to set the emotion free from a happy-faced facade that made her skin crawl, that felt wrong in every regard, and was a complete and utter lie.

She had gotten home five minutes ago, held the pulled taught feeling so strongly until the moment she stepped through the threshold. It was a crumbling tower from there on out. Cracked, broken, and out right destroyed as soon as she managed to push herself to the bathroom. Tears slipped down hot, frustrated, cheeks until the stream became a broken dam. Gushing and never ending - a nightmare to those in its wake. She cried in anger, in sadness, in grief - pure desperation to feel something other than exhausted.

She didn't hear the door open and shut softly, too focused on the task of taking a full inhale (that she never could get) to hear it. Didn't register the thud of a bag hitting the ground, or the confused call of her name. Her mind too warped with a sense of self loathing to even comprehend that there was a gentle knock on the door before it creaked open.

Her appearance was lackluster and bleak; jostled professional attire now wrinkled and blotted with tears. But Sugawara knew the feelings the woman felt all too well: a deep pit of loathing and wanting, teetering the line of desperation and outright giving up, just before the last crack feathered out and caused chaos and mass destruction.

Her eyes flickered up to the mirror in front of her, dusty and speckled with dots of dried water - neither of them had the energy to clean it in weeks, and locked eyes with familiar brown ones. Brown ones that swam and dipped in concern and adoration, feelings she wished others would look at her with.

She watched him look over her a moment, brows knitted together before his eyes softened. “Hug? Or not yet?” Asked softly, and in second nature. The pair had a prior agreement to leave the fleeting touches for later, when they both had time to settle back into their own skin. Nothing was worse than an argument caused by overstimulation, and words spoken in anger that could've been resolved by a simple question such as this.

“Hug.”

A single word was all the man needed to engulf her in warmth.

Sugawara taught second grade, while she taught older. And to this, she thought as if the lingering smell of crayons and glue would always be a part of him. Stitched into the seams of his clothes every time he got home, soaked into his skin the moment he walked in the door until he showered. But it became a smell she associated with peace, with serenity - with love.

His arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, like a missing puzzle piece that had finally been found. And he remained stationary, unwavering, as she closed her eyes and tried to hide herself amongst his sweater. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“It'll turn into a two hour rant if I do,” she whispered, voice almost incoherent as she spoke into the fabric above his chest.

“You could go on for four and I'd still listen.”

She paused, and for a split second the nausea disappeared. His words flipped the breaker in her mind before it turned off once more, and the need to spill her guts punched her in the stomach again. Her hands gripped the wool fabric of his sweater tightly when the feeling returned, and fingers went numb as she remained tense.

“I don't know if I can keep this up, Kou. I'm so tired.” Her voice wavered and broke, another crack in her overall appearance that made his heart sink further.

“I know,” he breathed. “I know you are.” A blanket statement that he knew right down to the roots. An exhaustion that, really, no one could understand unless they too were in the profession. A tired that swam in shallow veins, and dipped into the psyche - driving one mad.

“Everything I do, and every choice I make is wrong to someone and I'm just so sick of it.” She groaned, “and I'm so sick of being told to ‘remember your why’ to legitimate concerns about something.” He hummed before she continued on, “I don't feel appreciated at all.” Her voice dropped once more, before she let out a shaky sigh, “by anyone.” She felt him rest his chin on her shoulder, and he let out a gentle sigh. Not knowing what to say to make the situation better, as he knew nothing truly would - a broken system would remain fractured whether he despised it or not.

“I appreciate you more than anything.” His voice was quiet, knowing if he spoke any louder it would rile her even more. “And I don't need a why, I just need you.”

taglist

@causenessus @softpia @renardiererin @kodzu-ken @phoenix-eclipses

@wyrcan @honeekyuu @wakashudou @wolffmaiden @eggyrocks

@yogurtkags @bakery-anon @totallytatum @mollyrolls @aozui

@jadeoru @hyunteru @kameyyy @nekozaki @sandwhitches

@angelichwv @a-girl-cant-decide-on-a-name @crypt-0rchid

#hq x reader #haikyuu #hq #sugawara koushi x reader #sugawara fic #sugawara x reader #hq sugawara #haikyuu sugawara #sugawara koushi #hq suga #haikyuu x reader #koushi sugawara x reader #suga x reader #suger <3

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the-soliloquies-of-sadists · 1 year ago

Text

#381

“Wakey wakey. Time to wake up…. Don’t try to move around too much. As you are realizing, you are in a predicament. You are lying in my basement, buck naked, tied up, gagged, collared, with a fuck pillow under your pelvis. You ain’t going anywhere, anytime soon….

“We’ve never met, but we know each other. We both do the same thing for work, but we are nothing alike. This is what’s happening. I am part of a nameless organization that takes faggots, trains them to be slaves, and sells them to buyers from around the world. From what I’ve been told over the years, the faggots delivered to me want to drop off the grid and sold into slavery. They turn themselves in to a collector, who then has them delivered to me. I don’t know if that’s true as I don’t let any of the faggots talk other than to say, ‘Yes Sir!’

“Now for you, I was told your backstory. It seems that you are a collector for a different kind of group. I train fags who offer themselves up for the taking. You seem to prefer the non-consensual abductions of twelve- to fifteen-year-old girls. I don’t care that you prefer pussy over dicks, but I do draw the line with their age.

“As I said, I was told what you are. That never happens. Ever. But it appears that you approached the ten-year-old niece of one of higher ups in the organization, and he recognized what and who you were. That stupid move brought you here.

“I have no idea who the higher up is nor do I care. Hell, we don’t know any of the men that are in the other parts of my organization, let alone hear from them. So I found it surprising to get a call from a higher up—who I haven’t heard from in a few years—that I am to train you personally. You better fucking believe that I’m going to train the fuck out of you.

“I have been training faggots for nearly forty years. This is my farm you are on. Twelve hundred acres. Twelve hundred acres with some of the most advanced surveillance and anti-escape deterrents. I know of every person who steps foot on my property, and I know if a slave is ten feet away from where it is supposed to be. The ankle cuffs, wrist cuffs, and collar have tracking devices in them. The collar can deliver a shock to keep you in line at a moment’s notice. And the ankle cuffs are set up that if you go beyond a certain perimeter, a numbing agent is injected causing your legs to go numb and become useless. Escape is not possible. In my twenty years at this location, I have only had one slave make it off property, but it was collected within three minutes of doing so. That slave was brought back and tortured in front of all the other slaves as a deterrent. And that was before all the tracking technology was put in. So keep that in mind if you decide to do something stupid.

“Now,… for the past five minutes, I have been telling you the predicament you find yourself in. I have been watching your reaction. Being gagged, you can’t say anything, but your body language says it all. You seem too calm and not surprised at the description of my organization. No reaction really. That tells me that you are familiar with an operation like this. When I tell you that you were collected for stalking that niece, you don’t look shocked by that accusation. That pretty much confirms what I was told,… not that it matters otherwise.

“No, the only reaction I saw was when I tell you that I am going to do your training. You looked panicked. Your eyes went right to my bulge. Oh yeah. I noticed. You are straight indeed. I should say, ‘were straight.’ From this moment on, you will never go back to that life. The only cunt in your future is the one I’m about to make out of this hole between your legs.

“You have a great ass, so flawlessly smooth. On any other slave, this ass would be a huge selling feature. But for you, it’s a source of pain. I need to put out my cigarette somewhere. Your asscheek is the best place to do it…. Scream motherfucker scream. Your perfect ass is going to go through some changes, from being daily whipped to being used as an ashtray. You are going to be scarred up for sure.

“For the next part, I need to take off my boots and get out of these overalls. You are going to get acquainted with Otto. That’s what some of the fag slaves and some of the trainers call my dick. Otto, it means ‘eight’ in Italian. I’m actually closer to nine inches, but nine in Italian is ‘Nove’ which doesn’t sound right. It doesn’t roll over the tongue as nicely as Otto. Hehe.

“Look up at me. Look shithead! Here’s Otto. Look at the cock that is going to own your life. Half hard, it’s bigger than yours. Keep staring at my foreskin. Otto needs to piss. You will be trained on drinking piss. That’s all the liquid you will be given. And if you are wondering if that means that you will be trained on becoming a full toilet, let me say we stopped training our slaves on that a while back. It was too time consuming, and the buyers weren’t interested in that feature. But for you, the higher ups want you trained. But that will have to wait.

“Are you… you are…! You’re crying! About time! Hold still. Let me wash away those tears for you. Piss is the best antidote to tears. There’s no feeling in the world like starting to tear down a once proud man by simply pissing on his face. It’s getting me hard. Otto likes what he’s doing to you. But he wants action.

“Normally, you would be sucking the last few drops out of my foreskin. But I ain’t ungagging you yet. Besides, Otto needs to turn a virgin ass into a gaping cunt.

“Your hole is perfectly displayed, like it’s ready to be destroyed thanks to that fuck pillow and how wide your legs were spread and secured. Oh look. Your cock and balls are just hanging there,… exposed,…

“…Damn! Even with my bare feet, I can deliver one hell of a ball kick. Ha! Ha! Your screams mean everything to me. You know, each and every one of my personal slaves are kicked in the balls every morning. They need to be reminded of their place on a daily basis.

“Now, you will be spared that daily torture. And that’s not because I would never have you as my personal slave, and don’t worry I wouldn’t own such trash. No, I’m going to castrate you, in one of the most painful ways. I haven’t decided how yet. I do know that I will leave your empty sack intact. We have a urologist that will make changes to your dick so that you lose all ability to get hard and with a few snips to the nerves in the area, all physical sensation will be gone. Essentially your dick will constantly just hang there and be utterly useless… other than to piss out of. Every time you reach down there, you will only feel the shell of what you used to be.

“Awww you’ve done full on sob. Here let me collect some of your tears. Tears of cunts are the best lube.

“Do you feel Otto at your hole? Feel his weight in your crack? He’s ready to go. Can you feel his leak. Lucky for you, you really got me leaking. Feel that wetness? That’s all you. Virgin cunt meets wine bottle thick dick.

“Don’t fucking start resisting. Your cherry is going to be popped. Here goes.

“Don’t fucking fight me. It’s only going to be more painful for you. You are making my dick even harder.

“LET ME IN! I’m coming in. Oh, you got my head. You are really starting to piss me off.

“Urg! There. Normally I would let a cunt relax before I begin, but you don’t fucking deserve that. Right to the… goddamned… root! Fuck, you’re tight. By the end of tonight, you will be a gaping mess.

“Not only have I been lucky to have such a big dick, but I can cum multiple times a night. My first load is always quick, but the second one goes on for hours. Then I have a gang bang lined up for this cunt.

“I’ll let someone else pop the cherry in your throat. There’s no way I’m going to let Otto near your mouth, at least not while you still have a mouthful of teeth. Oh yeah, those will be coming out as part of your transformation.

“Keep crying. Oh man. Oh fuck. I’m getting close. You ready to be bred? You ready to make your transformation to cunt complete? Here it cums. Here it goddamned cums! Ahh! Ahh! Fuuuuck!

“Holy shit! That was… fuck.

“Your cunt has one of my biggest loads in it. That should help lubricate you up a bit for round two…. Don’t try to push me out. Otto will come out when he wants to. Right now, he just wants a minute to catch his breath.

“Cunt, you have nothing but hell ahead of you. There will be no let up. Today is about breaking you in. Tomorrow will begin your life of pain. We have a shitload planned for you. I don’t know how long it will be for you to with us, but each day we will strip away what made you a man, a human.

“You know, when we put a slave up for auction, we have transformed the fag into the best slave it could be. We don’t do it for its wellbeing. No, we want top dollar. And we get top dollar. That’s our reputation.

“But for you, I was given the instruction that your transformation should be so extreme that when you are put up for auction, without a reserve price, that you are so repulsively distorted that you are sold for the lowest amount we ever had for a slave. That shouldn’t be a problem with all the branding, scarification, tattooing, deteething, and so on. Your previous profession will be shared with your new owners so that they can keep up your hell. “Oh fuck. All this talk of your pathetic life is getting me hard again. I’m ready to begin round two. This should last a few hours.”

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themotherofhorses · 2 years ago

Text

pairing: aemond targaryen x handmaid!reader

summary: ...aemond realizes he’s fallen in love with his handmaid five months later as he stands outside his bedchamber.

warnings: explicit language. aemond's kinda horny but mainly a lovesick dude. steamy makeout session towards the end??

notes: welcome back to another short episode of "aemond targaryen being a total fucking simp for his handmaid bc vic is too damn obsessed with this pairing."

his handmaid's tales | main masterlist

Aemond realizes he’s fallen in love with his handmaid five months later as he stands outside his bedchamber.

Through the doors comes your soft voice from the inside, feminine and melodious, absolutely beautiful to him. It’s muffled by the thick walls, but he can hear the verse you sing to yourself. I loved a maid as fair as summer, he chants along in his head, with sunlight in her hair...

He sneaks a peek inside the room. You sit on the settee, crossed at the knee like a highborn lady, with an eyepatch in one hand and a thread and needle in the other. Aemond recognizes that one eyepatch at first glance. The sight tugs at his heartstrings. It was a favorite of his, a rare gift from his father on his thirteenth nameday. Viserys had his name embroidered along the inside in pretty cursive.

Aemond One-Eye.

Viserys’s smile was as brilliant and big as the blue summer sea. My boy…three-and-ten. How you’ve grown so fast before my very eyes.

But the eyepatch grew too small for him as the years passed, and he hid it away, never wishing to see it again. His father now was nothing more than a half-decaying corpse still sitting the throne in pure mulishness, who hadn’t muttered his second son’s name in two long years. He doesn’t know how you found it, nor does he feel any slight bit of bother.

“I loved a maid as red as autumn, with sunset in her hair,” you hum next, turning the eyepatch around to thread the loop. Your feet are bare, pretty hair tousled, and the servant’s robe does little to veil your blinding beauty. His gaze focuses on your face. Your lips look pink and plump- ripe for him to kiss and bite and swallow in all the endless kisses he yearns to give you, and your eyes twinkle as bright as the midday sunlight.

I love a maiden as beautiful as all the seasons.

“I love a maiden as white as winter, with moonglow in her hair-”

He strolls into his bedchamber, striking you off guard, your singing breaking off abruptly. “My prince!” you exclaim, bolting up to slip your feet back into your shoes. “Oh, my sincerest apologies, my prince. I was told you would be gone for the better part of the day.” Amid your babbling, you drop the needle and thread onto the floor, “is there anything you need from me?”

He wanted to laugh.

“I had no notion that you had such a…lovely voice,” Aemond instead tells you, lacing his hands together behind his back. The compliment widens your eyes, and he hears how your breath hitches in your throat. You resemble a fairytale maiden, doe-eyed and flustered at the sight of her wooer. “I’m very sorry, my prince….”

“Do you sing a lot?”

You bite your lip, and it causes his cock to stir within his pants. No, no, stop that at once, he wishes to say aloud. Only I should be allowed to bite your luscious lips like that. All mine. “My mother sang to me as a little girl,” you admit, braving a faint smile up at him. “Sometimes, when I’m missing her, I sing. Perhaps it sounds a bit silly…but it makes me feel as if she is in the room with me.”

Aemond hums, nodding his head. He then looks down at the eyepatch within your hands, raising an eyebrow. “Pray tell where you found my old eyepatch. I swore I hid it well all those years ago…” and he hopes you catch the thin amusement in his tone.

“Oh…” you fall silent, unsure what to say next. “I was tidying up your desk and bookcase, my prince…I opened a drawer, I believe it was the second to last one to the left of the desk, and I found it there….” you glance at the eyepatch, running a finger over the black cloth patch, “-I thought, perhaps, it would be a nice surprise if I extended the straps so that you could wear it once again. It is very pretty!”

You hold it out for him to take. “Would you like to try it on? Just for me to check if I need to loosen it up some more.”

Aemond stiffens. “Perhaps later,” he says, a bit sullenly. “I do not like to take off my patch when others are still around. I’ve found that my missing eye is quite the…dreadful sight to many.” He clenches his jaw so tight he wonders if his teeth might shatter. But you just shake your head.

“My prince, believe me when I say that no such thing would ever terrify me.” Aemond could hear his brother snigger in the back of his mind, and he shifted uneasily. “I’m your handmaid. Please trust every word I tell you.” He remembers the cool night under the stars when he claimed Vhagar for himself, gazing out into the darkened sand dunes where she slept. Your smile is the warmth he needed.

He tilts his head, searching for any sign of deceit amongst your features. Gods, but you’re too damn beautiful for your own good, he thinks as he sighs and slides the patch from off his face.

Do not dare mock me…flinch…or run away…

But you just stare up at him, studying the dark sapphire he’s stuffed inside his missing socket. The skin stretched around it is rather uneven and tender and pinkish, and his healed scar cuts through his eyebrow. “May I, my prince?” you ask. He nods, and you gently trace the scar with your fingertip, up and down. Your touch is soft, and delicate, sending a shiver up his spine.

“You did not deserve this, believe me when I say that,” you whisper, and he feels your hot breath, “—you were just a boy….”

Gods be good, no one has ever told Aemond those words before. He does not know what to say, remaining silent and still.

Then, without warning, you stand on your tippy toes to kiss his cheek, your eyes shutting as your soft lips press against his skin.

I love a maiden as beautiful as all the seasons.

“You are still handsome and strong and worthy, my prince,” you mumble, stroking his cheek, a smile flickering across your pink…plump…luscious lips and Aemond…

…Aemond pulls you flush against his chest, swathing an arm tight around your waist as the other tangles his fingers through your hair, his mouth slamming down on yours in a heavy and wet kiss that leaves your knees buckling beneath you. Kiss her. Take her. Make her yours. Your arms fly up to his neck as you sink into his grasp.

“She is yours. Your handmaid. Everything she does next is at your own will and mercy…but do treat her well, Aemond…it is through kindheartedness that you receive devotion.”

And he lays a kiss on your lips, and another, and another…and with them all, Aemond swears himself a man obsessed and blinded by love. He knows he will not survive this miserable, torturous life without you by his side. You, his precious handmaid- his maiden as beautiful as all the seasons.

By the time he lets you go, you’re breathless and dizzy and as giddy as a young girl. He gives you only a few more seconds before he kisses you again, flinging you onto his bed. “My prince…!” you cry out, bouncing as he begins to chuckle, swallowing the rest of your words in his mouth. “Oh, this is improper,” you gasp, toes curling as he pulls at your bottom lip, “it’s so….gods, it’s so wrong…I need to…I need…”

“Shhh,” he answers, kissing your nose and chin, and temple before your lips again. “You don’t leave this room unless I dismiss you, remember?”

tag list: @aemondsblog @dc-marvel-girl96 @neobanguniverse @missalycat21 @enchantingcupcakecollectionfan @padfooteyes @alexizodd @kravitzwhore

#aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond drabble #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond the kinslayer #handmaid!reader #hotd aemond #house of the dragon #house of the dragon imagine #hotd fanfic #vic writes 🧸

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riinniies · 8 days ago

Text

ITOSHI RIN X FEM! READER

Plot : Some short stories of Rin and you after marriage, Rin and you from Soulmate AU and red string of fate.

Fluff! Husband rin, Wife reader, rin is no longer tsun tsun.. he's growing up guys :'(, and i'm seriously wanted to write smut but its impossible and embarassing idk why..

this is BONUS CHAPPP ! !

Words count : 795

PART ONEEE ! !

PART TWOO ! !

My writings

I hope you like ittt !! <33

BONUS CHAPTER : After the marriage

• A Few Months After

Marrying Rin was a journey full of small surprises. No life is truly perfect, but with Rin, you learn that imperfections make your relationship stronger.

That morning, you were busy in the kitchen trying out a new pancake recipe. The pan in front of you started to smoke, and the pancake batter in it looked more abstract than a perfect circle. Rin appeared at the kitchen doorway, wearing a jogging shirt slightly damp with sweat. He leaned against the doorframe, surveying the messy kitchen.

"Are you experimenting with food or inventing a new weapon?" he teased, folding his arms across his chest.

You rolled your eyes, giving him a look of protest. "I'm trying to make pancakes for us. But clearly, I'm not as good as I thought."

Rin walked closer, peering into the pan on the stove. With his signature deadpan tone, he remarked, "It looks like this pancake has given up on life."

"Then why don’t you help instead of criticizing?" you challenged, glaring at him.

He sighed, took the spatula from your hand, and started making pancakes with surprisingly skilled movements. You watched in silence, slightly confused but impressed.

"You know how to cook?" you finally asked, breaking the silence.

Without looking at you, he replied, "When you live alone long enough, you learn to survive. I don’t like relying on others."

His answer was simple, but somehow, it made you smile.

• One Year After

Your life together had found a comfortable rhythm, even though Rin was often busy with his training schedule. You continued your art projects, which were becoming more recognized. Still, there were simple moments you always cherished together, like that evening.

Rin had just returned from a long training session. You were sitting in the living room, reviewing sketches for an upcoming exhibition. He approached you, looking tired but still making time to come closer.

"What are you drawing this time?" he asked, glancing at your sketchbook.

"Landscapes of the cities we’ve visited," you answered, showing him a few pages.

He studied the drawings carefully. "Why always landscapes? Why not try something more… abstract?"

His question made you look at him, raising an eyebrow. "You like abstract art?"

He gave a small nod.

"Sometimes, things that aren’t clear are more intriguing. Like us when we first met."

You fell silent, realizing how far your relationship had come. Even though Rin wasn’t the best with words, everything he said felt sincere.

After five years together, your relationship was filled with small routines that made your home feel warmer. Rin often spent his time coaching young players, while you worked from home on commissioned art projects.

• Five Years After

One day, Rin came home with a serious expression. You were busy in your studio, working on a large mural you had just started.

"Look at this," he said, placing an invitation on the table.

You picked it up, reading the text on the card. "Best Young Coach Award? Rin, this is amazing!"

He simply nodded, as if it weren’t a big deal. But you knew this recognition meant a lot to him.

"You always underestimate yourself," you said with a smile.

He looked at you and replied calmly, "Because I know someone will always believe in me, even when I’m unsure."

• Ten Years After

Now, you lived in a modest house on the outskirts of the city. Rin had retired from football and focused on mentoring, while you ran a small art studio that also served as a gallery.

You had a five-year-old son who shared his father’s serious demeanor but had a wild imagination that often made you laugh.

One night, after your son had fallen asleep, Rin sat on the back porch with a cup of tea. You joined him, sitting in the chair next to his.

"We’ve come a long way, haven’t we?" he said suddenly, gazing at the stars above.

You turned to him, smiling softly. "Yes. Sometimes I still can’t believe we’ve made it this far."

He looked at you, and for the first time that evening, you saw a deeply genuine smile on his face. "You know, my life has been better since I met you."

You held his hand, feeling the familiar warmth. "I feel the same way, Rin."

In the quiet of the night, under a sky full of stars, you both knew your journey together was far from over. But whatever lay ahead, you were ready to face it as long as you were together.

2nd THE ENDDD!!

|| Thank you (again) for reading my works, i love u guys :'xxx

#rin x reader #red string of fate #itoshi rin #rin itoshi x reader #fluff #marriage #soulmate au #soulmates #adult rin #itoshi rin x reader #itoshi rin x you #bllk x you #bllk x reader #bllk

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shanksbaby · 2 months ago

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Aokiiji\Kuzan x reader- Kidnapping you

you were part of a small village in the mountains, you were not born there though: you moved when you were only 5 years old because the marines had attacked your hometown. So together with your uncle you arrived in this small village, well hidden from the outside world.

your life has always been monotonous and quite predictable, every day the same routine until he arrived: Kuzan, the former admiral. Among the young people of the village he was unknown but the older ones and your uncle knew him, he was much loved by the marines but after a battle with another admiral he was forced to resign…or at least that's what they said.

he wasn’t wearing his Marine uniform and yeah he wasn't an admiral anymore butin your eyes didn’t make him any less a part of them...he still wore their weight. Make your hatred very visible by brushing off any time he approaches you, trying to avoid him as much as possible.

what pissed off you more it was that lazy manner: as if he were a simple traveler and not the one whose story was stained by the very organization that had destroyed your family and other people, those who allowed the celestial dragons to enslave people. Kuzan was always around, a quiet fixture of the town, his former life trailing him like a ghost only you seemed to see.

you even shouted insults in his face once, saying that he should be ashamed of what he and the marines did, and to your surprise he didn't retaliate but listened to you, and you could see a hint of shame in him.

he replied that he doesn’t know who he is anymore, that he’s lost his way, in short he’s not that marine anymore. And surprisingly you believe him, you notice his kindness hidden by that aloof manner, Kuzan wasn’t like the Marines you’d come to fear and despise.

and so over time you learned to appreciate Kuzan, to love him, to love his stupid jokes, his stupid flirtations. He got you out of annoying conversations with the cashier, kept you warm during the winters with his heat-emitting body, and kept you cool in the summers with his devil fruit.

you started dating, kissing and cuddling on your couch, you made love to him for the first time. He shared with you all his adventures and all the fights he defeated but also the beatings he received, and you couldn't help but be enthralled by his story.

yet, happiness frequently feels too proper to last, and someday he confessed that he needed to leave. You noticed the ache in his eyes, the reluctance in his stance. But you knew him sufficient through then to recognize he wasn`t leaving out of indifference. He feared bringing troubles for you.

the days have become united again for you and above all you felt a loneliness that you didn't feel before Kuzan, damned ex-admiral for making you fall in love with him!

one night your little village is attacked: chaos erupts as ships with black flags sail into view, and then you see him...Kuzan, your former lover. You freeze at the sight while everyone tries to run away from the pirates that have arrived.

before you can make a move to escape or reach him, you feel strong arms wrap around you, lifting you from the ground. You look up and see Kuzan’s face, filled with a fierce determination. “What the hell are you doing, you brute?” you ask angrily. “Leave me alone, and get out of my village. Stupid me for thinking even marines could change.”

he calmly replies “I can’t let anyone hurt you, now you will come with me…You will be safe.” and in the meantime he slowly walks towards the exit of the village while the pirates plunder the village.

"What about the others in the village? You let them get hurt like this?" you ask as you wriggle out of his grip.

he holds you tighter so that you can't leave "don't worry, they won't enslave them, my subordinates will just take something from them. After all I had to give Teach something in return" after five minutes he arrives where his crew's camp is and puts you on a wagon

"So you sold them in exchange of what?"

"In exchange of you being protected. I couldn't protect you alone, but now that i know the others will protect you, now we can finally being togheter" he tells you as he comes closer and hugs you tightly while placing his forehead on your shoulder

"That doesn't make it right!" you yell "You shouldn't have sold the lives of those people of yours, especially for someone like me."

"Oh sweetheart, for you I would do anything, I would even kill for you"

#one piece admirals #one piece #aokiji #kuzan #one piece scenarios #one piece admiral scenarios #aokiji x reader #one piece marines #sfw #one piece imagines #one piece fandom #the admirals #op admirals #aokiji kuzan #kuzan x reader #one piece x reader #one piece x y/n #kuzan one piece #aokiji one piece

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ronwestbreeze · 1 year ago

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you're gonna go far | 3

pairing: jake sully x neytiri x tsu'tey x fem!human! reader summary: a scientist arrives on pandora (unwillingly) a year after the exile of the rda. now she must deal with the likes of a clan leader, a great warrior, and a thanator rider. . . word count: 8.2k warnings: depictions of depression (not too explicit)

read on ao3

The view of Pandora from the sky should’ve been amazing. Your heart should’ve leaped many times over as the Samson ship flew over many beautiful sights of nature. It should’ve finally occurred to you that you were on the planet of your dreams, that you were witnessing the life of Pandora, mask and all.

Instead, you just stared at the world as if you weren’t in your own body. Floating outside of it and looking down at yourself. It hurt that you practically didn’t recognize yourself anymore. And you wished you could blame it on your current circumstance but even before you were brought to Pandora, before your mother’s forest had withered away, you had always had this familiar feeling. This dislike of what you were becoming.

Bitter. Resentful. The child-like wonder, long gone. You hated what you saw. You hated how so easily you believed back then that your own mother would’ve abandoned you—forgotten you simply because she was on a different planet. How selfish could you have gotten?

You had been burying yourself in jealousy while your mother was already six feet below you.

In the corner of your eye, you spotted Jake flying next to the ship, on one of those winged creatures. You hadn’t noticed Norm, who sat across from you, watching your expression with a frown. You hadn’t realized he’d seen the dullness in your eyes, the exhaustion making you way older than you were. You weren’t even that old actually—but the world aged you. In a way, no one should have to experience.

“They’re called ikrans.” You dragged your eyes toward Norm who nodded his head toward the creature Jake was flying on. Both of you watched as he flew by and took to the front, leading the Samson ship. “It’s who the Na’vi bond with for life. And their way to get around. It’s a lot better than walking, I can tell you that.”

He chuckled a little while you nodded absentmindedly, barely taking in the information he was giving you.

“You’ll definitely appreciate the life here a lot more when you’re steering your avatar.” Norm added on after a pause.

Okay, he must’ve noticed your lack of interest at some point, right? Why was he so adamant to have a conversation with you? What exactly was he trying to accomplish?

Your mind spurred slowly as you finally watched him, both warily and with interest. Maybe you could take advantage of his talkative mood and gain some type of understanding here. Maybe it would help your mind focus on anything else at the moment. That always helped. Forcing your brain to hyper-fixate on something else besides your own psyche.

“Tell me about the war.” You finally said to him. Norm raised his brows, startled. “Clearly, I have no idea what exactly happened a year before I arrived. And DeVoe didn’t either, considering she thought she would win against the attack on our ship. Clearly, she forgot that a lot could happen during five years of cryosleep.”

With that, he nodded, “Yes, you’re right.” You watched his thoughtful expression turn to sorrow, as his gaze went back to the view below them.

A view you should’ve been looking at too. But for some reason, you just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. It hurt too much. It would only keep reminding you…

“There used to be this place called the Kelutral.” Norm began, finally, drawing your mind back to him. Refocusing your gaze on his grim features. “It was this big tree that the Omatikaya used to call their home until the RDA destroyed it for a bunch of unobtanium that was buried beneath the tree. Basically, the rich fucks took their home away and that caused the war that led us into exiling the RDA off this planet. Jake, who was considered an outsider before, helped reunite the other clans to defeat them, Toruk Makto. Because of this title, he was accepted into the Omatikaya, despite being a Sky Person as well.”

You watched him with a frown, taking in the brief, summarized story. “So what, should I become some great warrior to impress the natives too?”

“Couldn’t hurt.” Norm shrugged with half a joking smirk but winced right after. “Don’t know if there’s a lot to choose from though.”

You scowled, not really in the mood to match his playful response, “And Sully knows what it’s like to be an outsider yet acts like a total dickhead still? Some guy.”

Norm awkwardly scratched the back of his head, “Your arrival did kind of spook us, and it happening a year after the RDA were gone too—it was just bad timing, really, Doc. I’m sure once this all cools down then Jake will, I don’t know, get his head out of his own ass and finally get it. But right now, he’s just—they’re all scared. And I can’t necessarily blame him for that either.”

Somewhere, behind all this anger, grief, and exhaustion, there was some part of you that did understand it.

But rationality was hard to come by now. Being reasonable was far from your grasp—in fact, you kicked it away out of spite. Every bit of you just wanted to embrace this anger, embrace this frustration.

You did not ask to be put here. To you, at this moment in time, that was all that mattered.

You were wronged. You were kidnapped. You weren’t responsible for what the RDA had done here—nor what your mother had accomplished on this planet. None of it had anything to do with you.

And for a brief moment, this selfishness felt right. There was no self-hatred for what you felt here. Because you were right to be pissed off at your situation. And no one was going to make you feel bad for it.

Norm didn’t. He took to being neutral. Understanding your side and the natives—which was somewhat fair. At least he didn’t completely write you off as some sort of destructive lost cause.

At some point, Jake maneuvered from the front of the ship to the side of it, gesturing for the pilot to land. You braced yourself as the Samson lowered itself to the ground, the trees flying around you from the spinning blades of the ship.

Once the ship was securely on the ground, you followed Norm off the ship just as Jake landed his winged creature—ikran—in a tree a few feet away from you. After adjusting the exopack you wore—again—Jake landed on the ground and flicked his head in the direction straight head.

“This way.”

The forest was vast and big around you. Perhaps even a bit scary if not for the natural lighting of the plants—bioluminescence—surrounding you. If your mind wasn’t so distracted, you would’ve thought it was absolutely beautiful and ethereal. Unlike anything you had seen in your life.

As you walked, many small creatures flew around you. One of them was a flying lizard which glowed along with the forest. A kenten, you remembered them from your mother’s videos. It flew around you for a bit until it moved on. For a moment, you watched it until you couldn’t see it much anymore as it flew further and further away.

You tried to will some type of amazement. Some type of awe. But nothing came to you. Nothing at all. So, you moved forward, forcing yourself to forget the flying lizard and focus on what was ahead of you.

The clan’s new home must’ve been close by since Jake decided to make them walk the rest of the way to it. Norm was still beside you, also in human form which was slightly comforting. At least you wouldn’t be the only puny creature here.

When you began spotting huts in trees, that’s when you realized you must’ve arrived. The first few practically blended in with the nature of Pandora. But as Jake led you deeper, more huts began to appear, more visible as you walked by. Natives were out and about as well. Children, women, and men alike.

Now you really felt small. Almost pathetic. Being among the Na’vi constantly reminded you of this. Even the children sometimes towered over you. The smallest one that you passed had to have reached your shoulder, and she looked young. Seven years old at least.

Jake glanced over his shoulder at the two of you every now and then, making sure that you were keeping up and that he didn’t lose his eyes on you. He wasn’t the only one watching you keenly, some of the natives did as well. Making you feel both self-conscious of yourself and rather irritated. It was like they wanted you to snap at them.

Next to you, Norm whispered. “The Tsahik, Mo’at, is pretty wise. Basically, everyone looks to her as a spiritual leader. A spokesperson. Interpreting the will of their deity, Eywa.”

“So why does she need to see me?” You questioned as Jake led the both of you to a hut, stopping just at the entrance of it.

Jake looked at you—his face still unreadable—“Wait here.” And he ducked inside. Leaving both you and Norm outside.

The scientist shifted next to you, “Probably to determine whether or not Eywa has truly chosen you.”

“Chosen me?” You repeated incredulously.

“Well, Neytiri did say that those woodspirites—atokirina—were around you earlier.”

“So?”

Norm frowned exasperatedly, “To them that means something. Which means your odds might not be looking too bad now.”

At that, you rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the long curious looks sent your way by the natives. “You’re all more worried about my odds than me.”

He didn’t respond despite the question in his frown. You didn’t offer an explanation.

A minute or two later, Neytiri came out of the hut instead of Jake. She still held a thoughtful yet wary expression when looking down at you. “The Tsahik will see you now.”

Norm gave you a pat on your back, “Good luck.”

Again, not offering a response, you followed Neytiri into the hut, not before hearing Norm say behind you, “I’ll be out here if you need me—"

Inside the Tsahik’s hut, it was pretty spacious—probably because everything just looked much larger to you than it actually was. There were a lot of earthy materials—the air smelled of smoke, herbs, and spice of sorts. Unlike anything you’ve ever smelled on Earth.

A part of you expected this from a Na’vi shaman, so you didn’t observe too much of the space you were in.

Instead, you focused on your busy mind. Your walls going up to defend against any accusation attacks or insults that would be sent your way because of your species, because of your unwelcomed arrival here. Observing the unique hut wasn’t much of an option when your eyes settled on the woman at the center of it.

She was sitting on the ground, eyes focused on something in the wooden bowl she held in her four-fingered hand. She had yet to look up at you, but she didn’t tense at your presence. Not like how Jake did in the corner of your eye—whom you just now noticed standing near the entrance of the hut.

How you had missed his tall blue ass, you didn’t know.

Your mind had been too blurred and defensive as soon as you stepped in. Not realizing until then that you were standing in front of the Tsahik of the Omatikaya Clan.

Suddenly, you felt intimidated. Like the type of intimidation, you were sure you were supposed to feel while facing Jake. Only you didn’t with him.

But with her? No, there was something about her that exuded something far more powerful than some scary Marine. She hadn’t even said anything yet and you for some reason stiffened at the sight of her.

Mo’at turned her attention to you. “Come, sawtute. Sit.”

Cautiously, you came forward and sat where Mo’at pointed. Neytiri had come inside shortly after, taking the spot behind Mo’at. Watching you and her keenly. You realized while looking at both Na’vi women, how similar they were.

Jake was still standing near the entrance.

All eyes were on you.

And you truly realized then that you were alone. That, essentially, everyone was against you. The way each Na’vi eyed you carefully, as if watching for any sudden movements, the same as the first time you met both Jake and Neytiri at Hell’s Gate.

You realized that the only person who had been in your corner was gone.

It was you against Pandora.

Something suddenly pricked you, interrupting your bleak thoughts. Mo’at held a needle of sorts which was now red with your blood. You watched as she gave it a sniff and then a lick, something you would’ve cringed at if not for your and everyone else’s silent anticipation. All you could do was sit silently, spine straight and protected by steel.

Ready to fight for yourself because no one else would.

Mo’at then peered down at you, “You know who I am.”

You blinked at the question, “Norm told me, yes.”

She made a sound of content with your reply.

Another beat went by as she stared at you, “Tell me about your dying planet. Tell me why you have no interest in making our home yours like your clan.”

You stopped, staring at her in bleak surprise. That certainly wasn’t something you were prepared to answer. Again, you blinked and Mo’at stared at you expectantly.

Unsurely, you finally replied, “It’s like you said. It’s dying. I don’t know how much simpler that can get for you. Saving our home—it’s a naïve dream. That’s pretty obvious, isn’t it? Humans killed our own planet and now we want to claim another, just to fuck that one up too.”

Neytiri’s tail moved slightly behind her. In the corner of your eye, Jake stiffened—the only former human here who knew what you were talking about. Who understood what you meant, where you came from, and your position.

For some reason, that only made you angrier at him. For some reason, now he wanted to pretend that none of that happened. That you, just like the RDA, were just as bad. Without even trying to understand your side.

Mo’at raised a hand as if silencing your bitter thoughts. “I didn’t ask for ‘we’. I want to know why you aren’t following your clan’s ideas. What makes you different from the rest of those sky demons?”

Still confused and now annoyed, you respond anyway, “Because I have no interest in trying anymore.”

And you paused, remembering your mother’s songcord in the back of your pants pocket. You moved your gaze down to your hands, which were clutching your knees until your knuckles were practically shades lighter than your skin.

“Back on Earth, my mother—she believed in the hope that she could save it by starting small. Never mind the hundreds of years of wasted pollution or deforestation, she believed there was still a way to save it. So, she created the Amazon Project. There was still a small patch of land in Brazil left untouched. She took the opportunity to nurture and protect it. Since I was young, I’ve been working under her. Watching her succeed in her project. Until she passed it down to me. To care for it while she left for the Avatar Program. And I was happy to do it. I wanted to see my mother’s work flourish even if she wasn’t at my side. I did it to make her proud.”

Again, you paused, resisting the urge to reach for the songcord to distract your hands. Despite your trembling, your voice remained steady, “Five years later, RDA agents tell me she died a year into her stay there. Her forest is gone too. By fire. Deforestation. As all the others.”

Mo’at was quiet but thoughtful. Neytiri was staring at you still, her expression less wary, less—almost no severity left there. She was listening, closely. The way her ears twitched every now and then was a sure sign of it.

You couldn’t see Jake’s reaction, your gaze going back down to your hands again.

Until Mo’at finally spoke, “And now you are here. Yet you have no interest in following your clan’s path. Because you have, ‘given up’. Now I am told that we cannot escort you off this planet. So why should my people trust you to stay here—”

“I didn’t want to be here.” You were tired of saying it. Tired of fighting for your innocence here. Fighting for them to see that you too were wronged here. That you were the victim, not the monster in all of this mess.

If anyone was to blame, it was DeVoe.

But DeVoe was dead. And you were left fending for yourself.

And you were angry all over again.

“The RDA wanted me to come here and continue my mother’s work. I refused and they brought me here against my will. They tried to get me to buy into this bullshit lie that my mother wanted this, when really they were just desperate fuckers who wanted to get their hands on her work. I destroyed it. No one, not even me, could use it. And if you’re not happy with that explanation either, then do what you want with me—I don’t know how many times I have to say it. I’m not here to take anything. I’m not here to live among you and I’m not here for the Avatar Program—if killing me is all it takes for this shit to end then just get it over with already—”

You missed the way Neytiri frowned, confused by your words. You missed the way Jake winced and looked away from your smaller hunched figure. You missed the way Mo’at nearly chuckled at your words. Because it was always amusing how many didn’t realize how the Great Mother worked. Even when it happened in front of them.

The flaps of the hut entrance yanked open as two Na’vi figures stepped inside. One of them you recognized as the clan leader, Tsu’tey?—while the other was an older woman with a sling across her chest. And in that sling was a sleeping baby.

His eyes found you and his scowl worsened, “What is this?!”

“Tsu’tey,” Neytiri warned as she stood. She moved around Mo’at while saying something to him in their language.

He ignored her and looked to Mo’at, “Why is the demon here?! I already said it isn’t welcomed on our land!”

“I called her here, Olo’eyktan,” Mo’at responded simply, looking increasingly similar to Neytiri as a sort of warning appeared on her own lithe face.

Even Jake stepped forward, placing a hand on the male’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him down, “Just be calm. Mo’at—”

“We agreed the demon would be gone!” Tsu’tey snapped, now glaring at you again. You stared back impassively and for some reason that only seemed to piss him off. “And now you’ve shown her our home and endangered us all!”

Neytiri then hissed at him in their language. You watched both of them quietly go back and forth, Jake even adding input every now and then. Whatever it was they were saying, Tsu’tey didn’t look too happy about it.

“The atokirina has given us a sign.” Mo’at interrupted the three in English as she gestured to you. “Allow her to explain her intentions to the Olo’eyktan and then we can decide—”

“It is already decided.” Tsu’tey snarled. “She leaves—”

“There’s no ship we have that can send her back,” Jake informed calmly. He glanced toward you for a beat, something settling in his yellow gaze before looking back at the heated male. He continued whatever he said to try to persuade the chief in Na’vi. His use of the language wasn't as natural coming from him—which, you noted, showed he hadn’t been experienced in their language for long now.

Neytiri also grabbed and squeezed at Tsu’tey’s arm as she spoke, this time her words sounded a lot more clear instead of quick with a hiss like before. She too was trying to persuade him—or perhaps you weren’t reading their body language right. After all, you were practically the only one in the hut that didn’t speak the language. Who knew what they could’ve been saying about you—which was slightly irritating.

The nameless woman, whom you had forgotten was there until you spotted the vicious scowl she sent Jake. She was older, around the same age as Mo’at. Had to be. And she was holding that baby in her sling close to her chest, protectively almost. Like there was no way she would let the infant go, not even if someone dared to ask to hold it. Hell, you weren’t even sure if the baby even belonged to her.

But she did look eerily similar to Tsu’tey. Same scowl and all.

And the baby, despite the chaos, was still sound asleep.

There was a certain innocence at the sight. Something so pure about it.

“You claimed to have left the Sky People.” You tore your eyes away from the baby to find a restrained-looking Tsu’tey now peering down at you. “And that you do not want our home. Then what is it that you want, demon?”

Another question you weren’t prepared for. Frankly, you didn’t think they cared for what you personally wanted, even if they got over their fear of you destroying their home like the RDA had done.

Jake and Neytiri now stared at you expectantly. Neytiri’s gaze curious while Jake, as usual, was guarded.

Mo’at also watched you, keenly. Like she knew something you didn’t.

And the nameless woman continued glaring at you with pure and utter hatred.

“Since I can’t go back home. I don’t know.”

Maybe you’ll lay down next to your mother’s grave. Until you turn into a rock, keeping her company.

Tsu’tey scowled, his tail lashing behind him. “That’s not an answer.”

“Well, I don’t know what to fucking tell you. I just lost the one person I ever cared for—so yes, that’s my answer. I don’t know.” You never broke eye contact with him as you said this. Even when he leered at you for your response. There was a certain bite to your words, especially when you said, “God, it’s like you all haven’t fucking lost someone before. Sorry, if my grievance is such an inconvenience to you all.”

Jake winced at this while Neytiri lowered her head. Tsu’tey didn’t appear phased by the comment but his face noticeably grew more hostile, baring his teeth.

Unbeknownst to you, the nameless woman, Artsut, suddenly hissed in offense for her son, “Are you going to let that demon talk to you in such a way, son? You are Olo’eyktan! Put that alien in her place!”

“Be calm,” Jake warned her with a certain look that meant he was not in the mood for her and her unnecessary comments right now.

But of course, Artsut bit back, “You do not get to tell me to calm down, demon! This is your people! You brought her here, it is your fault for this!”

Jake scowled but swallowed his venomous response down his throat.

Because he knew she wasn’t wrong. His presence alone already made some of the natives uneasy. Toruk Makto or not. And he knew that it could draw more Sky People here one day, after pushing the RDA out. The inkling of vengeance they might take on him and the people never left Jake. Not even when he thought he was finally at peace.

“The Tsahik decides what to do next.” Neytiri reminded the woman with a stone look sent her way. “You do not interfere.”

She refrained from screwing her face into a scowl at the sight of Artsut holding Neteyam. But she could not deny her right to hold her grandson. Not even when it made her sick at times.

Instead of bringing attention to it, Neytiri pointed toward the entrance, “Leave. Take our son to bed. You are not needed here.”

Artsut scowled and looked at her son, “Tsu’tey! You let her dismiss me like this? Your own mother?”

Without looking away from you, Tsu’tey muttered, “Take Neteyam, mother. I will find you later.”

With a huff, Artsut raised her chin, sending you another glare as she said, “I hope you kill that demon where she sits. The Great Mother will forgive you if you at least get rid of one stain on our land.”

In the corner of your eye, the woman left finally, and whatever she had said clearly angered Neytiri and made Jake go quiet as he watched her leave with a solemn look.

“What will you do with her then, Olo’eyktan?” Mo’at questioned in English.

You still didn’t look away from Tsu’tey, almost like a silent challenge between the two of you.

Mo’at watched the both of you. All four of you.

Until someone cleared their throat.

At the sudden sound, all of you turned your attention to the hut entrance, finding Norm standing there looking just as puny as you.

“Dr. Reeds can stay at Hell’s Gate with the rest of us—she doesn’t have to be here if you don’t her here. And since she’s a scientist, Dr Patel can take her on. She’ll be out of the way.” Norm offered, carefully when he took in everyone’s different expressions. Including yours.

She’ll be out of the way.

“Thanks, Norm.” You snipped dryly.

He sent you a pointed look. You rolled your eyes but willed yourself to stay quiet. Mostly, because you didn’t care for all of this anymore. You said your peace and now you were done explaining yourself.

All you wanted to do now was sleep.

You almost missed Tsu’tey’s reply as your mind began to drift, “Away with her then. If I see the demon again, I will deal with it my way.”

There was a shudder through your body at the finality of the conversation. But you remained quiet, staring down at your hands, remnants of dirt still left on your fingernails and palms.

The world had gone too quiet, even when you halfheartedly watched everyone’s mouth move. Only for nothing to come out of it but soundless silence.

Eventually, you were allowed to follow Norm out of the hut and back into the village. Getting ready to leave for Hell’s Gate. At some point, you were floating outside of your body again.

Until Norm spoke next to you, “I think that went well. I’ll have to talk to Dr. Patel and arrange everything—but all in all, you’ll get situated just fine. Plus, you still have your avatar—hey are you okay?”

You barely heard his question or anything prior to that. Your knees buckled and your mask began to fog up from the hot tears rolling down your cheeks.

You weren’t wailing. You weren’t shouting. You just cried on the forest floor with quick breaths and a racing heart.

“Dr. Reeds?” Norm knelt down beside you. “Are you—what—”

You just shook your head and continued crying, clutching your shaky hands to your chest. Letting everything you held back in the hut slam into you like a tsunami wave. Overwhelming you. Disarming you and your walls.

“Okay,” Norm mumbled, looking around. Fortunately, you had made it far enough away from prying eyes. He then patted your back, “Okay—Okay, if it helps, I’m here for you. I won’t go anywhere, right? We’ll sit here until you’re ready, yeah?”

You didn’t get out of your bed for the first few days.

Norm showed you your new room after coming back from your visit with Mo’at. Since then, you stayed there.

Fortunately, no one came to get you. Norm only came around to drop off the food you barely ended up touching.

At some point, you realized that there was just no way you could get out of bed. Everything finally came crashing down. The anger still simmered with your situation, but at this point, there was nothing you could do about it. Even if you could go back, there was nothing waiting for you back at home.

Your mother’s songcord lied on the dresser next to the cot you slept on. Sometimes you’d stare at it and other times you’d get so angry at the sight of it that you’d throw it into one of the drawers. Leaving it there until you quietly panicked and took it back out again.

You hadn’t left the room. The world of Pandora was out there and yet you were here. You couldn’t move. Your body was stone.

And you were fine with being stone.

At least the skin would be harder to break this time.

“It is not your fault,” Tsu’tey said, pulling Jake out of his swimming thoughts—nearly drowning if not for a hand always latching onto him, keeping his body dangling above the waters.

When Jake tore his drifting gaze away from sharpening his arrow, his mate was sitting next to him, eyes soft but face set in a determined frown. As if Tsu’tey made a mission for himself. “I will not let you blame yourself for this. I do not care for my mother’s words and neither should you, tiyawn.”

In response, Jake offered a short nod, not entirely trusting himself to speak at the moment.

Guilt wasn’t a stranger to him. He would live with this until his body was buried somewhere on this planet. He would live with this guilt for the rest of his life.

For Grace. For Neytiri’s father. For Tommy.

Suppose all of this started with his twin brother. Suppose it always did.

“I will always be human,” Jake said to both himself and Tsu’tey, clutching the arrow tightly in his grasp. “That’s never going to change. And I gotta live with that.”

Tsu’tey took his hand—the one gripping the arrow—and squeezed it gently. “I know this. Neytiri knows this. Neteyam is half of you. And half of us. You have proven yourself, Jakesully. Long ago. We have not forgotten what you have done for us. What you’ve done for me.”

Jake winced and looked away.

It wasn’t selfless—saving Tsu’tey after the battle with the Sky People. He had only done it because he didn’t deserve the title. He didn’t want the title. If Tsu’tey lived, he would still be Olo’eyktan. And Jake would just be the Toruk Makto. Nothing more and nothing less.

It wasn’t selfless. It wasn’t.

There was one tablet in your room. At some point, you dragged yourself from the cot and grabbed it.

Turning it on, you searched the system for Joan Reeds.

Her video logs came up. The public ones at least. The ones you destroyed were private. Only for you to see in the end.

This video had to have been when she first arrived. Maybe a few days later.

“Log—um, wait, what day is it?” Already your mother looked frazzled as she searched around the public lab she was in. “Oh! Found it! Video log 10. Today, I got to run around in my avatar and gosh, it’s so jarring how small everyone is—or how small you are. I keep tripping over myself so Dr. Augustine has me putting in more work. Says I’m not useful if I’m always falling on my face. Jokes on her, I’m always falling on my face…I probably won’t be allowed outside of the Avatar Compound.”

Joan laughed at herself in the video. Your heart tugged at the twinkle in her eye as she kept going on and on about her week so far. You listened intently, ignoring the plate of food sitting on your dresser.

In another video, Joan steered off updates and instead took out a tablet. Showing the camera a picture of a forest.

Her forest. On Earth.

Joan was smiling brightly here, “This is the Amazon back on Earth. Or what’s left of it, still preserved under my daughter’s watch. I taught her everything she knows. My very own little shadow. You know when she was smaller, she always used to follow me around. And I mean all the time. Hence the nickname I gave her.” She paused, the smiling faltering a bit. “She doesn’t do it anymore—has a doctorate and everything. My baby’s all grown up. And so, so, talented.”

“Reeds, you’re supposed to be logging. Not crying over your baby photos again.” A voice said in the background.

Joan pouted, “I know, I know. Alright, here come the boring parts—”

“Reeds!”

“Kidding, kidding!”

The video stopped. She never did get to the boring parts.

You stared at the screen in silence. And then you replayed the video. A few more times that night.

Tsu’tey felt small whenever he went to see Mo’at.

Most times he was always accompanied by either Jake or Neytiri—sometimes both—or to bring a warrior who needed healing after a bad hunt.

But when it was just him, it was always different. It had been this way ever since he was young. She just always had this air of importance about her—royalty even. Sometimes—all the time—she was often regarded highly over the Olo’eyktan. Tsu’tey even saw her as the true ruler over the Omatikaya, even before he was named their chief.

It had gotten better, visiting her in his young adolescent years. However, that was only because of their shared grief and the loss of Sylwanin years before. It was easier to be around someone who understood. It was the same with Neytiri. The intimidation was lost because of this.

But now things have changed. Too many things.

After the war, after the battle with the Sky People, Tsu’tey didn’t remember the end result. He never saw them win. Not when he was shot down by one of the Sky People. All he remembered was falling from one of their flying ships and falling back into the arms of his home. Readily to embrace his impending death. Ready to greet Eywa.

He remembered Neytiri crying over his body. He remembered trying to make Jake the next Olo’eyktan. And then it was just darkness. Nothingness. For a moment he could’ve sworn he saw Sylwanin.

And then he woke up with Mo’at crouched over him, hard at work at his severe wounds. Wounds he was sure he would’ve died from. Should’ve died from.

Tsu’tey had lived through the war and came back with nightmares and aching scars in his wake. Sometimes wishing he had stayed asleep for good.

Then the pain would be gone. Then the strange tightness in his chest would go away. Then he wouldn’t have to keep experiencing his breath shortening and his heart racing every time the world spun just a little too much or he’d pulled himself—half a man—out of another one of his nightmares.

Then he wouldn’t have to suffer.

Then he would be at peace.

But a gentle hand always pulled him back. Lifting him out of the ocean. Keeping his head just above the waters, just enough that he could breathe.

Neteyam’s eyes held him in place and stopped his world from spinning.

The world got a little brighter because of his little boy. Because of his mates.

So, when Tsu’tey visited Mo’at on the day of one of his healing sessions, there was always something to keep his head floating above water.

Today it was Neytiri who had his hand against her cheek, running fingers down his arms softly as Mo’at massaged the healing wounds on his back and chest. Last night it was Jake, who hugged him tightly after waking up from one of his nightmares. The day before it had been Neteyam. And the day before that, it had been unintentionally you. His rage for the Sky People kept him grounded.

And tomorrow, he didn’t know what it would bring. He would just have to leave it to the Great Mother. And pray that she doesn’t want him to suffer.

Slowly, you began to eat again. And that was a start.

By the third week, you began doing little exercises in your room.

Push-ups. Sit-ups. Planks. Anything to make your mind start moving again.

It wasn’t perfect. You knew this. But you tried.

One day at a time.

Neytiri and grief were friends.

There was nothing difficult about her emotions or how she expressed herself. Neytiri felt everything. And she could not stop feeling. She could not stop understanding.

So she understood Tsu’tey when he changed after Sylwanin’s death. Neytiri had changed too.

She understood Jake when Grace had died in his arms. Her father had died in her arms too.

She did not want to understand Sky People. She did not want to feel sympathy for the people who stole everything from her. She did not wish to feel sympathy from those that stole her sister away and as if they weren’t greedy enough, took her father and her home from her as well.

And she was tired because of it. She just wanted peace. She just wanted to raise her children and be with her mates. She did not want to worry about those demons coming back and destroying her home, and her life again.

Neytiri was just so tired of it. Being stuck in this never-ending cycle of grief.

Was this the path the Great Mother wanted for her?

Was she just never meant to be happy?

“Hey.”

Neytiri perked up and turned to find Jake watching her curiously. She had forgotten where she was for a moment. In the forest with her bow and Jake. Ready to hunt.

“You here with me?” Jake asked, smiling at her.

And she returned the smile, her chest warm. “Yes.” She then gently smacked his arm, “Now focus. We need dinner for tonight.”

She was always standing at the edge of the cliff, the water staring back at her below. There was always a weight that she held onto, with such desperation. She wouldn’t dream of letting it go. She wouldn’t dream of letting them drown.

So she always held tight. She would be the tether.

The following week arrived. You managed to take a shower and finally leave your room.

Today you were just numb. And you would work with that.

Hell’s Gate was a vast place that you wanted to map out and fully explore. If this was the place you would be stationed/forced to stay at, then you needed to understand the layout.

You started at the administrative centers; passing the Operations Center and a few link rooms. Some people nodded to you in acknowledgment as you passed while others ignored your existence, being too focused on their work—which you didn’t mind.

Eventually, you made it to one of the bio labs. There, you found a few more people—which you assumed were scientists. You passed another link room—Norm mentioned these places a few times whenever he stopped by your room to try and pull you into a conversation.

You lingered there for a minute. Watching two people enter the link beds. By the time they were closed in, you moved on.

The Avatar Compound was of course the last place you visited. You ignored your mother’s old lab and sauntered toward the gardens.

There was a lot more browning than you saw before. Most of them were dead, others were on the verge of dying. It looked pathetic, really. How some of them stood limp. Nearly touching the ground.

You frowned at the sight, fingers twitching.

You moved on.

“Do you guys have a library here?”

Norm looked up at you, eyes alight with surprise at the sight of you, “Um, I don’t know anything about a library. What are you looking for exactly?”

You frowned, tucking the tablet from your room under your arm. “You worked with the former head of the Avatar Program, Grace Augustine. She has a book on the plant life here. I was wondering if this place has a copy lying around somewhere.”

“Light reading?” He asked with a raised brow.

You shrugged, “Something like that, yes.”

Norm nodded with a smile, “Well, like I said we don’t really have a library—but I actually have a copy of her book. I'm a big fan myself. I could lend it to you if you want.”

“I’d like that. Might be a while before I give it back though.”

He grinned, “I don’t mind. Knock yourself out! I’m just glad to see you walking around.” Norm sat back down at his computer with a sigh. “They’ve been sending warriors to check up on things but when I’ve been giving them the same updates, they kind of stopped coming around. So, it might be good for you—”

“Thank you, Spellman.” You nodded, as you started for the doorway leading out of the lab. “Send the book to my room whenever you can.”

Right now you were just floating out of your body. It was easier this way, you realized. And you would work with it.

The book was in your room the next day. You took it while holding your mother’s songcord and read through it. Front and back. You grabbed your tablet as you read the book again, taking notes this time around.

You organized the plants, you separated them into categories. Foods humans and Na’vi could eat. Plants that were meant for herbs and medicine. And plants to avoid altogether.

You read it for a third time to make sure you didn’t miss anything.

Finally, you went to the gardens. After examining which plants needed replacement—which was mostly the fruits and vegetables, food sources that they couldn’t afford to run out of. Hell’s Gate was living off rations, which were bound to be gone at some point. A harvesting garden would be useful.

So, you adjusted your exopack and got work.

You didn’t do too much the first day, just tore down the dead plants—which was practically the whole land of the garden. The plants themselves were big so it took most of the day. Those that could be saved were mushrooms. They hadn’t blossomed yet so you took care of it. Adding water, and new soil—you did this until the night came.

The next few days were planned accordingly. You found yourself busy foraging for fruits and vegetables in the forest surrounding the compound. Of course, you didn’t wander too far from the compound, making sure to keep track of every path you took.

It was quite big and overwhelming, the forest. Even some of the fruits you carried back were bigger than your own body. But you managed well enough to plant down some seeds. Which also took quite some time.

It wasn’t until you saw avatars running around your mind suddenly clicked.

“Spellman.” You ran up to him one day, catching him going into the bio lab. He turned as you stopped in front of him, “I have an avatar, right? How long does it take to get used to being in the body?”

Norm, who had been waiting for you to ask this very question, grinned. “Right this way, Doc.”

Frankly, it took a couple of days until you were finally used to being in your avatar body. Which unfortunately slowed your progress with the garden, but you managed in between breaks from training with the avatar body to continue planting more seeds as best as you could.

But once you could manage to stand on your own two feet in this new body, your process with your garden got a whole lot easier.

One of them was the fact that you didn’t have to wear those stupid masks anymore. Not having to worry about losing oxygen after a couple of hours was a huge plus.

Admittedly, it was strange at first. Suddenly being taller than humans, having a tail that sometimes moved without your knowledge, and then there was keeping both bodies healthy. That would be a challenge but you could deal.

After getting used to your new body, you continued tending to the garden which was making great progress. Except for the mushrooms. They just wouldn’t grow.

“Mmm.” You mumbled to yourself while tucking your tablet—a new one large enough for you to hold—under your arm. Maybe the roots were too old and weak. Maybe it was best to cut it down and start over again.

You went into the bush. The forest looked a lot different with brand-new maskless eyes. A lot more vibrant. A lot more real.

Eventually, you found the same mushrooms in the forest that were in your garden. Kneeling down, you grabbed your tablet. Studying and comparing it carefully.

Of course, the roots were a lot more greener than yours. Maybe it needed fresh soil. Or more moisture. These mushrooms were obviously different from the Earth ones, so you were a little out of your depth here. The book didn’t talk too much about mushrooms, unfortunately.

There was a quick shift in the corner of your vision—something you definitely wouldn’t have caught in your human body. Another plus with the avatar, better senses.

You looked up, your eyes locked with another pair of yellow ones.

A familiar face you hadn’t seen in a while.

Neytiri crouched down on the branch she was on, staring at you intensely.

You stood, “Come to spy on me yourself this time?”

A flicker of recognition flashed through her eyes, her head tilting as she analyzed your features. “You are the demon but different now. You are dreamwalker.”

You gave a single nod and took a moment to observe her carefully. Just as she was doing with you.

After a while, you turned away from her to focus back on the mushrooms. You knelt back down to get a better look at the roots again. The grass shifted after as a soft thud sounded next to you. A second later Neytiri’s feet appeared next to you.

“Why are you doing that?” She questioned.

“I am growing some mushrooms.” You replied simply. “Mine aren’t growing like they’re supposed to…” You then looked up at her curiously. Neytiri stared back at you with a small frown. A strange idea struck you then. “Can you look at the mushrooms back in my garden?”

Neytiri huffed, her tail swishing behind her.

You shrugged, “Or not. I’ll figure it out.”

After you secured the tablet under your arm again—you really should get yourself a bag at some point—you started back to the compound.

Surprisingly, Neytiri followed.

There weren’t a lot of avatars out today so it was practically just you and Neytiri. You found your mushrooms and knelt back down to the ground.

Behind you, you felt Neytiri looking at you. “You did all of this?”

You made a sound of confirmation without looking up from the mushrooms, “We can’t survive off just rations. Sure there’s a lot—meant for a lot—but it won’t last. Better start now than later.”

“And you intend to do it our way?”

“For the most part, yes.”

After a while, Neytiri knelt down next to you as you brought out your tablet to take notes. She tapped your arm, drawing your attention to her.

She then lowered your tablet and pointed to the semi-growing mushroom. “The sun is blocked. You need to move it. Or it won’t grow.”

You frowned. Huh, that was simple enough.

With a nod, you placed the tablet aside and dug up the roots. Neytiri watched as you moved the soil into a more sunny spot. And for the next few minutes, you planted it down with your hands. Once it was done, you looked to Neytiri expectantly.

She was studying your other plants. There wasn’t any annoyance on her face, which was a plus at least. You watched quietly as she poked and prodded at the plants until her eyes met yours. Her ears perked, her face became tight, and her tail curled behind her. She now looked both annoyed and—flustered?

You gestured to the mushrooms, “Anything else?”

Neytiri inched toward you and examined your work, “Yes. That is good.”

You nodded and stood, “Thank you for your help.” She blinked and nodded reluctantly. Then she departed.

It was progress. Your new garden. One day at a time.

Neytiri did not want to understand Sky People.

You were sad, she concluded.

While human, you had appeared dangerous, vicious-looking. Defenseless. But then again, she thought that of all humans.

In your false body, you were easier to read. Your words, as you spoke, still never matched your face. Low ears and tail. Dull, almost unfocused eyes.

Neytiri and grief were friends.

There was nothing difficult about her emotions or how she expressed herself. Neytiri felt everything. And she could not stop feeling. She could not stop understanding.

So she understood Tsu’tey when he changed after Sylwanin’s death. Neytiri had changed too.

She understood Jake when Grace had died in his arms. Her father had died in her arms too.

Unwillingly, she somehow began to understand you after the meeting with her mother. Humans were hard to read, so when she listened to your words, she also watched your face. And it was almost solemn and expressionless. Neytiri wondered if you were like Jake, locking your emotions up, not allowing yourself to feel.

Neytiri did not understand why they did that. Sky People and the way they dealt with their emotions were strange.

You were no different.

You were at the bottom of the ocean. Whatever hand tried to grasp for your body, it always slipped. And you just sunk deeper and deeper.

Until you were a forgotten shadow.

so, yes, this one is a little longer than the last two chapters, lol. i got a little carried away but i really wanted to take a look into the minds of both, jake, neytiri, and tsu'tey, just to gain a little sense as to why they act the way they do towards reader.

they are all very much soulmates. grieving in their own ways. i can't wait to write more of them.

let me know your thoughts! i love talking to y'all and reading your very kind comments!

taglist: @doggyteam2028 @slutforsmut4ever @lik0 @bigbootahjudy @innercreationflower @n7cje @celi-xxmoon @readerofallthingss @childofgod-05

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