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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

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Run Away To Me (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Blacksmith!Johnny 'Soap' MacTavish x F!Runaway Bride!Reader

WORDCOUNT: 4.8k

WARNINGS: Blood, wounds, being hunted/chased, medieval period-esc standards, arranged marriage insinuations, toxic family insinuations, angst, protective Johnny?, etc.

A/N: This series is so Lord Huron coded

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

You rush through the low-hanging branches of the reaching pines, their green arms tearing at the once perfect and virginal white dress clothing your body; waves of delicate fabric like bird’s wings. Shredded and torn, you sob in large gasps while the shouting gets louder behind you—the pound of vile hooves along cobblestone.

“After her!” Blood was rushing down a long slice in your palm, dripping to the verdant grass as you traversed the off-trial paths, the roads of animals and bandits—monsters in the night.

Flashes of torchlight had gone out long ago, the rain slamming the ground with ancient purpose as the storm got angrier. Tree trunks slam into your shoulders, the wedding dress ripping away in strips as pine needles pierce the bare skin of your feet. Your shoes had slipped off as soon as you had started this mad dash.

“She went this way! Quickly!” You run faster, shuffling down a long hill as mud gets packed into your flesh; infecting wounds with its slimy make-up.

“Please,” your voice begs lowly, hiccuping out vowels as you drop to your knees at the bottom of a ravine before you sob and grit your teeth. Wading through the stream of chilled water, you dig into the ground and shove yourself up on shaking legs as rain pelts your head. “Please, I can’t go back.��

Even your thin clothes are heavy on you—body weighed down by terror and a desperate plea. Because what you said was true. You can’t go back. Can’t go back to the search party, can’t go back to the ceremony…and you can’t go back to the man you were supposed to marry. No, you’d rather face the woods.

Scaling up the other edge of the ravine, you slam a bloody hand down to the rocks atop, pebbles flying past your face as a flash of lightning momentarily illuminates your field of view. Noises reminiscent of an animal carve their way out of your esophagus, teeth gritted as feet slip and strain.

You heave yourself over and fight the weakness in your arms. Coughing, you pray the storm will wash away any trace of your charge to freedom—the blood and the tracks. With any luck, the hounds won’t be able to pick up your scent even with the strips of your dress left behind in the branches.

Pushing away the water from your forehead, you stumble onwards on unsteady feet that pound with pain. Grasping at your gushing palm, you cry out as the burning pain echoes up your forearm.

“Whatever God is out there,” You speak in gasps, slurring the words as your dry throat grates. It’s all but lost to the wind in its great bouts of staggering attacks through the trucks of the trees. “Please, offer me sanctuary.”

Lightning is the world’s answer, more streaks of light that make your soaked body flinch and shake even more. Yet, in that tiny second of light, there had been something in the far distance—a shadow.

Your eyes peer harder, the calls from the riders suck in the back of your mind as they taper off as the search is re-routed.

What was…?

Wooden sides, three separate rectangular shapes that stand firm in the rampaging elements. Your feet slide over the ground as you limp in the direction you’d seen them, the flesh of your body so cold that you had gone numb in the sheets of rainfall.

A heart fills with senseless hope.

A homestead! With no other option, you take a deep, ragged, breath and continue on as quickly as you’re able; dress hanging off one shoulder. When you reach the front door some ear-ringing minutes later you’re barely standing upright—legs teetering and thighs shaking with dying vigor.

Panting, your first banging to the wood is weak at best, barely a sound above the thunder and the slap of rain. You strangle a sob and wrench your shoulder back, landing three hard hits that act more like punches. Pain blossoms in your hand, but you continue striking the wood.

There’s a loud ruckus from behind the blackened barrier, a yell, and before your knuckles can make themselves bleed from fear-filled adrenaline, the door is whipped open. A dim firelight spills out from a low hearth and you find yourself staring into the narrowed eyes of a man and his exasperated expression.

There’s the beginning of a growl, heavy with an accented voice, “Now who in the hell is—!”

A strong jaw goes slack, brunette stubble stilling. Blue eyes like cobalt instantly peel back to show the whites, words strangled away in a sharp inhale.

The man is in his late twenties, stocky, and clothed in a loose sleep shirt made of thin linen with black pants. His shoulders were near large enough to knock on the frame of the door as he stood in it, built with the strength of a boar and then some. His large, lightly-tanned hand on the door slackens as his eyes speedily dart down your disoriented form. Biceps the size of your skull.

Heart hammering, you stare for a moment longer, rain pelting your back and looking like a wet dog. It’s as if you’ve forgotten to speak beyond gasps for air, but your eyes implore enough for you. The stranger recovers from his surprise at seeing such a beautiful lone woman at his door with a clearing of his throat.

“...Christ, Dearie, you’re soakin’ wet out here.” He shoulders the door open wider without another question. “Inside, now, quickly.”

You wrap your arms around your waist and speed into the shelter of the home, water dripping down to the wood as you shiver and your teeth clatter. Not for a second did you think if this might be safe or not, too scared of the riders and their hounds than anything. You wouldn’t allow them to drag you back to your husband-to-be. Not in a million years.

Your voice is hiccuping as you speak.

“I…I don’t mean to i-intrude, I’m very sorry, Sir.” The man looks around his home before he spots a large bear fur by the messy bed in the corner—he rushes over and grabs it. “I ask forgiveness for w-waking you at such an hour.”

“Jesus, is that what you’re worried about?” Blue eyes crease at you as the heavy fur over your shoulders; your hands snap to catch it, the entire thing swallowing you as gaze up in confusion. The man frowns, staring back as water drips from your nose. “Let’s just focus on gettin’ you dry, yeah? You’ll catch your death like this, Little Lady.”

A wide hand presses to the expanse of your spine, prodding you forward as you squeak at the sudden contact. You’re guided to a small chair in front of the hearth, plopped down and the sides of the fur are hiked up to your neck quickly.

The stranger kneels down in front of you, focused, and his tired eyes alight with worry. He makes sure the fur isn’t going to fall as he blinks over the state of your hands. He pauses, his large grip stalling at the sight of spreading blood.

Your wound—you’d almost forgotten.

“Now what’s this, then?” The brunette's words are quiet, very in-tune with your state as you try to catch your breath and shiver. It was like coaxing a wild animal.

Blinking, you shift your hand farther under the bear's fur, bringing it to your chest.

“I won’t be here long, Sir. I promise,” you try to change the topic, but quickly jerk your nose into the crook of your arm as you sneeze, bending over slightly as mud and blood stain your skin.

Lips tighten along a square face.

“It’s Johnny, Miss.” The world outside rages on, blocked out by the four walls of this nicely sized home of wooden logs and boards. It was well-made with pine and cider, the large hearth in the back wall with inlets near the shuddered windows and various crudely carved pieces of art.

Weapon displays lined the walls, various makes and models hung on pegs. Axes and swords, spears with red-leather shafts set next to halberds of black steel. You blink at them in slight concern, not used to being around weapons.

Johnny, as he calls himself, sees this and quickly explains as he rubs at the back of his head, eyes crinkling.

“Ah, Johnny MacTavish, the blacksmith, that is,” a small, rough chuckle echos out.

You ease at that.

“Mr. MacTavish,” you give your name and offer a kind, yet still anxious, smile. “I give my thanks for allowing me shelter. A-and the fur.”

His gaze slips down to your hidden hand once more, face swirling with an unidentified emotion before studying your torn wedding gown.

“Well, I’m not one to leave a person out on my doorstep in weather like this. Certainly not a Lady.” His brow raises, head tilting. “You going to let me clean that wound a’yours or am I going to have to fish it out myself?”

Your body tenses slowly, bare feet shuffling over the floor. Staring at Johnny, you gaze at the strangely cut hair atop his head and the messy strands that speak to a night of shifting on his bed. His face is honest and open to you, blinking in soft question as his head angles to the side with an easy twitch of his lips.

“It’s really not necessary,” you try to chuckle but it falls flat, eyes red and heart still speeding.

Johnny sighs and glances at the fire, blinking before he shifts to grab another log and toss it in with no concern for the heat of the flame that lap at his fingers. You watch his muscles bunch under his shirt and quickly look at your lap.

“I’m not the greatest doctor out there, Dearie, but I can do good with washin’ out a cut an’ wrapping it.” You study him and nervously tighten your lips. Johnny’s face seems to soften, hands going up and wrists tilting as his knee stays connected to the floor; firelight on his face. A small smile blooms. “C’mon, I’m not that scary of a bastard, am I?”

You spare a tiny chuckle, shoulders jumping as rainwater slips down your chin. Your shivering was still going on, and would until you got a change of clothes, but the warmth from the fire was helping tremendously. Already feeling was returning to your limbs.

“Ah,” the blacksmith huffs a laugh, “there’s a smile. Now, let's have a little look-see shall we?”

Under the fur, your hand lightly shifts, coming back into view, slit palm and all. Johnny’s eyes darken, face going serious behind his stubble. Brown brows turn in.

“Now where in the hell did you get a—” Just as his gigantic hands were about to circle around yours, there was a violent knock at the door.

You shoot up in an instant, jerking away from the blacksmith as he snaps his head to the front, eyes lighting. He stands up slowly as you back up a few paces, eyes frantically darting back and forth. The knocking starts up again and thunder peels from outside.

Your form flinches.

“You can’t let them take me back,” you say quickly, breathing catching up in speed again. Fear burns your lungs and suddenly you’re ten times colder than before. “Mr. MacTavish, please, I can’t go back.”

Another round of knocking shakes the barrier. Blues eyes stare at you blankly, half-turned face pulled in visible confusion as Johnny’s jaw clenches.

A voice echoes from under the door as the blacksmith once more lets his eyes linger down your battered frame; taking in cuts and the limp you carry. Muddy feet and water stained red. His hands twitch at his sides.

“These are the guards of Lord Wilkin, would anyone in this home come to make him or herself known? It is of the utmost urgency!” You grow more fearful, head darting to find any other exit in this home but you land on nothing besides the windows. Your fingers shake with panic.

No, no, no.

Confusion gives way to deep concern.

A hand grasps your upper arm and you’re being hurried to the corner wall by the front door with fast feet and a firm, iron, grip. An accented voice mumbles quietly by your ear, “Keep quiet for me, Dearie. It’s alright, you let me take care of it.”

He stands you there and takes one last look at you, blinking, before grabbing the bear fur and pulling it above your head in a swift motion. There’s a quiet chuckle as you tense and slam a hand up to the brown material instinctually before Johnny darts around the corner and opens the door. You hold your breath and listen.

“Well, steamin’ Jesus, you bastards have any idea what time it is?! And in this damning weather, you show up at my door reamin’ on the wood like you’re the one who has to keep it anchored to the frame.” There’s a fast conversation of apologies and explanations that you can't catch above the yell of the rain.

“Does it look like I give a shite about a lost bride? Not my fuckin’ place to keep ‘er…I’ve seen nothing besides you…anyone out in this storm is as good as lost…” You listen and stay completely still, holding your breath as if it’s a prisoner in your lungs.

You can hardly believe it. Why was this man…lying for you? A wounded stranger that had shown up at his doorstep in nothing but a tattered gown and babbling through tears. Anyone else would have turned you over—especially to your betrothed, Lord Wilkin. He owned these lands and held fiefs by all who lived here. Not a man to mess with, if your slit palm was anything to go by.

“Go on!” Johnny calls loudly, and the door closes a second later, the latch locking. There’s a moment of nothing, before the clearing of a throat and a soft call. “Well, they won’t be back, least.”

He pops around the corner and smiles comfortingly.

“Sorry about the yellin'.” You part your lips in innocent awe and you take a deep breath before speaking slowly.

“Why would you do that?” His expression tightens, crossing his arms over his chest. Under him, his large hips shift.

“Ya asked, didn’t you?” Your blank expression only serves to make him chuckle heartily, head shaking. Johnny hums, “I won’t press you about it all tonight, though I well should. You’re in no shape for it.” Cobalt eyes glance at the food before looking back up. “But I’m guessin’ you have a good enough reason to sneak off as I hear you did.”

The very blood in your body heats with warmth.

You’re waved back over to the chair by the hearth. “Let’s get that injury looked at and I‘ll get you a change of clothes. You can take my place for the night,” eyes twinkle, “there’s no bed bugs in it, Dearie, knight’s honor.”

“What about iron shavings?” You call back softly, lips jerking up momentarily. The man’s actions had given you a large amount of trust in him. Johnny blinks in surprise at your joke, but a large grin grows moments later as you walk over delicately.

“Can’t say for certain, but I promise there’ll be no weapons under the covers. If anyone breaks in they’ll find my fists to be the first iron they get a touch of.”

Your laugh bounces off the walls, hand coming up to cover your mouth in the picture of a cultured upbringing. Johnny chuckles in turn, looking smug. He liked your laugh, it seems.

“That was detestable, Mr. MacTavish.” You sit down, and Johnny kneels where he had been before—his hand outstretched where you carefully place your wounded limb.

Immediately you feel the scrape of old burns and calluses, hands hardened by long hours of labor and intensive demands. You’re certain these are the hardest hands that have ever touched your skin, but it astounds you by how gently you’re being caressed and turned. People with far fairer flesh have never handled you like this. As if you would break apart with the barest of pressures.

Your breath stills as the blacksmith, with all the care of a butterfly, tilts your cut into the light and studies it, thumb absentmindedly brushing up and down your wrist. You hold back a shiver.

“Ah,” he grumbles, still smiling yet more focused on your injury now. “It wasn’t that bad.”

You hum under your breath and try not to flinch when he wipes away a stain of mud near your wound. The blacksmith grunts to himself, gentle pressure at your flesh like the scuff of tree bark. But it wasn’t unpleasant. No, you thought, not at all.

The two of you fall into a hole of soft silence, Johnny leaving for a moment to grab a bucket of water and bandages, saying in a mutter that he had plenty of the former to go around.

“Have a habit of burnin’ myself on my bad days, y’see,” he shimmies past, pausing before pulling back up the bear fur from where it had slightly slipped down your neck. “Comes with the job.”

Your face burns as he grabs what he needs, eyes stuck on your lap. You were astounded by the man’s ability to put away his obvious confusion for your care, how he was content to wait for answers until you were rested. It was honorable of him.

Thinking back to Lord Wilkin’s guards at the door, your thighs shift over the chair. They’d be looking for you until they found you—be that days or months, it didn’t matter. The Lord wasn’t someone to let what he wanted get away from him. Like senseless beasts, your family would undoubtedly help. Your chest is stiff with worry. How would you get away with this?

The scene you’d made at the wedding wasn’t exactly subtle.

Johnny comes back carrying a small bucket of fresh water, ladled from the wash basin, and a bundle of clean white cloth.

“Alright,” he huffs, “let’s get this sorted, eh, Dearie?” The wound was very obviously a slice from a knife, anyone could see it.

Johnny takes your hand once more and holds it in his palm, glancing up at you before dipping one of the cloths into the water and beginning to clean the cut.

“Is it…bad, Mr. MacTavish?” You ask, worried about the likelihood of scarring. That would be the last thing you would want. The blacksmith looks up from where he pats the edges, the fabric already going red.

“Just Johnny, if it pleases you,” he smiles, hulking form seemingly all a facade to hide a cheeky and loyal Scot. “And…no, not bad. If you’re worried about a mark, don’t be—it’s deep but only at the beginning. A slight discoloration, no more.” His brows pull back, teasing, “You’ll not end up like me, at any rate.” Your shoulders ease back, and you let him work with a thankful comment and a giggle.

You watch and take in the way his jaw clenches and loosens as he works, completely focused as if he was fashioning an axe and not helping a complete stranger.

“There’s no harm in scars,” you settle on saying, thinking over his last comment. Blues lock with your eyes, head tilting like a hound. Your face gains a slight heat to it and you stutter, “It’s just this one I’d rather not carry, Johnny.” Smiling warmly, you see the man’s lips part, his motions stalling for a moment as he looks up at you and blinks. “But yours suit you if…I’m allowed to say.”

It’s then that you realize that a slight flush has come to his cheeks, starting from under his stubble and leaking out to his cheeks like a red blaze—his gaze burrows deep with hidden fire that rivals the dancing shadows from the hearth.

Noticing, your own face burns all the hotter as the blacksmith quickly clears his throat, snapping his eyes away. Fingers once more cleaning your cut, he grunts out, neck now shifting to a blush of crimson, “...Thank you, Miss.”

You stay in silence for the rest of the delicate process; the air heated and rolling with something. Electricity sparks when Johnny’s hands rub across yours, large enough to break you in an instant but acting like moss over a stone. You find yourself falling into a sort of comforted state you hadn’t felt in a long time—the fur over your shoulders and the tingle of skin-on-skin contact that expects nothing but offers all.

“There,” Johnny says at last, and a part of you wants to cry when he pulls back, standing slowly. A firm but malleable wrapping is over your palm, a tiny knot tied in the middle to keep it from falling off.

You bring it to your abdomen and blink, the other hand going to run over the material.

“Thank you, Johnny. Truly. If I hadn’t found your homestead, I would have been lost.” The man rubs at the back of his neck, tunic bunched up by his elbows.

“Gah,” after a second of bruising off the comment, he waves a hand while his wide chest puffs with pride. “It’s no trouble, really. Keeps me on my toes.”

Outside the storm continues to beat the walls, and the blacksmith can’t help but feel his eyes drawn to your dwarfed form under the large fur, the dripping water, and the weight of your gown. Based on the information from the guard, he had a decent story already forming in his head.

A runaway bride and an angry Lord. By his own role as the fiefdom’s accomplished blacksmith, he should be turning you over. But your eyes had been flooded with tears when you’d pounded on his door; soaked in rain and mud—blood. No shoes. Freezing.

You had looked so afraid, his heart had hurt for you, a strong need to shelter you stuck like a knife into his ribs. Johnny had seen much in his life, war, and death, but your desperation had stuck a cord in him.

He’d keep you here with no charge, offer food and shelter, and do what he can to understand your situation. If not for simply hospitality sake, then because he had heard your laugh and had found it to be like a bird’s call in the wake of a dew-coated morning. Your soft skin like the wisps of fire from his forges. Your voice like a rippling spring. There was no way to describe the way he wanted to help besides to admit to himself that he was a good man.

And, while cocky, the blacksmith had never once been self-absorbed.

He watches you rub at your damp cheek and starts out of whatever trance he had been sucked into.

“I’ll…” Johnny rubs at his neck again, “I’ll get you that change of clothes, Bonnie. You just wait right here.”

You stare at his back as he strides over, the fatigue washing back over you now that the adrenaline leaves in its stupendous sweep of heavy heartbeats. Anyone else would have given you up. Your face softens, seeing the quick dig of hands into the stack of clothes in the dresser.

“Fuckin’ hell,” the man huffs, looking over his shoulder and shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Dearie, all I’ve got are my tunics and pants.” Black and pale cream linen is held up on display.

“Oh,” you mutter, “I don’t mind,” your chuckle makes his lips twitch with care. “I would just prefer to be out of this…thing.” Your eyes glare down at the tattered gown, breathing softly. “Anything is perfect.”

“Well, then I hope you don’t mind the smell of fire,” Johnny hums. “Here you are.” As much as his insides twist to understand the story, making sure you don’t run a cold was more important.

Your legs push you up and you walk over softly, gliding over the wooden floor to take up the articles and dig your fingers into the warm and easy texture, thin stitching, and cuffed wrists. There was a cut down the neck with a tied cord looped through, making up an ‘x’ pattern.

“I would say thank you again,” you begin, “but I think you’ll be getting annoyed with how many times I’ve already said it.”

Johnny laughs, crossing his arms over his chest and setting his feet.

“Ah, perhaps only a little.” Silence laps into a minute, and you study him with slow puzzlement, tilting your head. For a moment, the man wonders what he’s done. The blacksmith’s dark brows furrow, lips moving back. He looks down at the clothes again and starts with a wild blinking of his lids.

“Oh! Hell’s bells, right,” Johnny walks to the other side of the room and swiftly turns his back to you with respect and a burning neck. He cringes. “Christ.”

You laugh brightly, letting the fur fall to the floor as you undress and shimmy into the borrowed clothes. Your nose takes in the scents of metal and fire—fatty linseed oil used to protect a blade against corrosion. With the crackling fire, you slip the large tunic above your head and find that it falls heavily over you; far thicker than it seemed and very comfortable, ending at your lower thigh.

But those scents make your head spin, rolling up the cuffs as you bring your nose to the collar and once more take it in with a slow breath. You hum and move, throwing the bear fur back atop your shoulders and grabbing your ruined garments from the floor before calling out to the rod-straight figure.

“Johnny?” His arms lightly jerk, as if he’d been unfocused, but he doesn’t turn around. “Where would you like me to throw these?”

The blacksmith delicately tilts his head to the side and utters with his eyes stuck to the side wall. “Bin by the door is just fine.” You look to the container holding scraps and other garbage to be taken out and drop the gown in before rubbing your cheek.

Wide cobalt eyes stare at the clothes you wear heavily, jaw loose before he re-set it and averts his gaze. Johnny chuckles to ease himself and loops his thumbs into his waistband, embarrassed.

“Do you need anything else, then?” Your eyes blink with fatigue.

“No, I…I don’t think so.” Gazing at the home, your lips thin. Your family would have a heart attack if you even mentioned that you were staying the night at a complete stranger’s homestead. No protection, no way to beat off a blacksmith beyond a well-placed punch, and running from your betrothed. To say that you’d cause anything less than a heart attack would be generous. But Johnny felt different. Firmer in his emotions and intentions. Far more than the Lord.

That was really all that matted.

“Are you really sure this is okay,” you still ask hesitantly, gargantuan clothes atop your frame. Johnny is already nodding firmly.

“It’s my pleasure. I won’t be turnin’ you back out to the woods in a storm like this.” For whatever reason, the next words fall from his lips like an oath. “There’ll be no harm comin’ to ya as long as you stay under my roof.”

Your hand burns with the memory of his gentle grip and your heart skips beats. You feel as if a great weight is lifted, even if only for a night.

“Alright,” your words barely make it to air, and you grip the bear fur harder to stop yourself from kissing this man’s cheek, wanting to take him into a tight hug.

Johnny takes a blanket from the bottom of his bed and shuffles over to the inlet below the shuddered window, sitting down while you slowly walk forward.

“But, Little Lady,” you rest on the edge of the bed and look up to find him watching you intently, leaning back with a hand behind his head and the other on his stomach. The fire still crackles, the storm still dances outside, and the room is still tight with something you can’t put a name to. Like you’re caught in a trap of soft pillows and the scent of metal, you listen to the blacksmith with bated breath. “I’ll be needin’ answers…you hear?”

Licking your lips, you nod tersely. “Tomorrow,” you agree.

Johnny gazes off into your eyes, the runaway bride that had shown up on his doorstep and captured his attention like a bird made of a white wedding gown and panicked breath. He sneaks a peek down at your wrapped hand as you settle on his bed, burrowing into his furs and his covers—wearing his clothes.

For some unknown reason, the smallest of blood stains makes his chest roll with bright anger.

“Tomorrow,” he grunts through a tight jaw before he fights to turn his head away from you. It’s a long while before he sees any type of sleep, listening to the sound of your soft breath and the crackle of the fire.

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ripdragonbeans · 5 months ago

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You Win II // modern!Aemond x reader

Summary: You and Aemond have fallen in love, steady in a relationship built of trust and love. All that is challenged when Aemond takes a class led by Professor Rivers.

TW: indefinitely, manipulation, p in v, afab reader, violence, Aemond is an idiot

Part I • Epilogue

Empty. Completely empty.

Numb. You felt nothing

Cold. There was no warmth in your life anymore.

That's all you were when you left your - his - apartment. The towel that staunched the bleeding was drying up, becoming stiff. It's been hours since you left but you didn't have the energy to even pull it off your knuckle. That, and you wouldn't know what to do if it started bleeding again. Taking the train, you went to the one person who you knew would welcome you without a doubt.

Jace Velaryon.

You lied when you said you were going home. You didn't have a home to go to anymore because he was your home.

When you arrived at his apartment, you immediately started pounding on the door. Tears were streaming down your face again, new tears. They were hot against your skin and flowed freely.

Jace answered the door. “I don’t know who you are but I don’t need any - oh shit!”

You fell into Jace as soon as he opened the door and sobbed openly into his arms.

“Hey, what happened? Why isn’t Aemond with you?”

At the mention of his name you sobbed even harder. You balled your fists into Jace’s shirt, not wanting to let him go.

“Fuck, okay. Let’s get you inside. I’ll call Hel.”

As Jace led you into the apartment you tried to calm yourself but it was difficult, nearly impossible. All of the different visions Alys had planted in your head kept playing on one after the other. The more you looked into the past the more you could see the warning signs that something was up. The way he touched you, looked at you, the small things. How lately he would recoil from your touch, or look guilty when he said he loved you. It all added up and you hated that you couldn’t see it. Instead, you got hurt. You could’ve protected yourself, your heart, but instead you gave it to someone else.

You sat on the couch clutching your things. Well, all that you could carry out of his apartment. Fog was clouding your vision and your chest was heavy. All you wanted to do was fall in a deep sleep and never wake up again. You curled up around a pillow and buried your head in it. Hugging the pillow helped a bit but it wasn’t enough.

“Hel, something happened to her,” you heard Jace call Helaena from the kitchen. “She came to my apartment sobbing her eyes out and when I mentioned Aemond she cried even harder. I think… I think they broke up, Hel.” He paused so Helaena could respond. “No, I don’t know what happened but whatever it was was bad. Her hand is wrapped in a towel and there’s dried blood on it. Fuck, just come over, please? Okay, see you soon.”

Jace came out of the kitchen and sat next to you on the couch. “Hey, Hel is on her way. Want to tell me what’s going on or -”

You aggressively shook your head as you shut your eyes to keep even more tears from flowing out.

“Okay, we can wait for Hel.”

Jace wrapped you in a hug and you melted into him. You inhaled his cologne, a familiar smell, and it calmed you, even just a tiny bit. After a moment you pulled away from him.

“I punched a mirror,” you rasped. “I was feeling too much and I hated what I saw so I just. I -” you broke down in sobs again.

“As long as you’re safe and it wasn’t anyone else who physically hurt you, it’s okay.”

You nodded and let yourself sink into the couch. For a few minutes it was just you and Jace in a sad silence. He wanted to comfort you but didn’t know how to. You wanted to tell him everything that happened but you wanted to wait for Helaena so you wouldn’t have to relive it twice out loud. You’ve already re-lived it many times over in your head. Everything was so clear, so crisp and clear. In your mind’s eye Alys was giving you that evil smirk while her hand was on Aemond’s shoulder. The image wouldn’t leave your mind. She touched him like she owned him.

“No one physically hurt me but fuck, my heart hurts so much.” You leaned your head on Jace’s shoulder.

Jace nodded. You fell into a silence, a sad silence. The door unlocked.

“Hey, I'm here.” Helaena looked at you and your tear stained face. “Holy shit, what's happened to you?” She was quick to move to you and pull you into a hug.

With Helaena hugging you came a new wave of tears. While she was his sister, you were glad that she didn't remind you of him. You held on tight to her and tried to calm down your breathing.

“There we go, easy breaths,” she encouraged you.

When you finally caught your breath you glanced at both of your friends before putting your head down. “He cheated on me.”

Their eyes were wide with disbelief.

“No way,” Helaena whispered.

“I'm gonna fucking kill him,” Jace growled.

You let out a broken laugh. “Please don't kill him, Jace.”

“No, I'm serious. What was he thinking?”

“It was Professor Rivers.”

“Of course it was her.” Helaena’s eyes were hard. “I've heard so many things about her. I didn't think she'd go after Aemond.”

You scoffed. “Well she did and she was successful.” You lowered your head. “She said that he loved her,” your voice cracked on the last word.

“I don't believe that at all.”

“You should have seen him, Hel. He was fucking her! He looked so guilty that he was caught.”

“He fucked her?!”

“Yes!” You started sobbing again. “It was some kind of cruel plan the professor came up with. She requested me in her office while he was with her so I could see them.”

Jace and Helaena were silent.

“Okay, now that's messed up,” said Jace.

“I bet she gets off on breaking up couples,” Helaena said matter-of-factly.

Jace looked at Helaena. “I'm sorry, what?”

“Haven't you heard the rumors? She has a history of breaking up couples.”

“That's demented.”

As Jace and Helaena talked about how cruel Alys was to her students outside their academic life, all you could think about was him. You still refused to say his name out loud. Saying his name would be admitting that he was real. For once, you wished your relationship was fake, a figment of your imagination. If you could convince yourself it never happened then you never got hurt.

A delusional smile crossed your face. “I’ve changed my mind. I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. What are we even talking about? I don't know any Professor Rivers,” you laughed.

Helaena and Jace shared a concerned look.

“I've never heard of her.”

“Sweetie, she's a professor at your university. You know this very well,” Helaena said gently. “Are you okay?”

You started laughing maniacally. “Of course I'm okay! Why wouldn't I be? And again, I don’t know any Professor Rivers. That name means nothing to me. Nothing.” You reached for Jace’s hand and squeezed it as tight as you could.

“Damn, you have a strong grip. Can you loosen up or let me go?” Jace tried to wiggle his hand out of yours.

“I have never given my heart to anyone. I have never been hurt. I am completely fine. My heart is whole and safe. I have never fallen in love. No one has shattered me. Nothing bad ever happened, I’m just having a bad dream or something. But I’m fine. Fine and happy. I'm happy.”

“Oh, my dear,” Helaena tugged your hand off of Jace’s and took it in hers instead. “You're not okay and that's okay. But it happened, you can't pretend it didn't happen. It's not healthy.”

Your smile dissipated as you cocked your head to the side. “Nothing happened, Helaena. I am fine. I've never dated anyone.” You shook your head. “Please, I don't want it to be real,” you whispered. Trembling, you pulled your hands away from Helaena and wrapped them around yourself. Rocking back and forth you began to mumble, “It didn't happen. I'm okay. It didn't happen.” Your eyes became unfocused until everything around you was blurry. You didn't even try to correct it.

“Let's go to the spare room. You can stay here as long as you need,” Jace said as he gathered your things.

“Come on, sweetie. Let's get you up,” Helaena tried to get you to stand but you sat rooted on the spot.

Tucking your chin in and wrapping your arms around you even tighter, you closed your eyes and refused to open them. “I'm fine right here.”

“Okay, you can stay here but Jace is going to take your things to the spare room.”

Jace left with your belongings and brought them to the bedroom, the place you'll be living in for the next unforeseeable days. Helaena stayed next to you, refusing for you to be left alone.

“Do you want me to stay the night? I don't want you to be alone.”

With eyes still shut you nodded your head. You agreed with her; you should not be left alone.

“Your room is set up.” Jace entered the living room. “Do you want to sleep there now or?”

“I think she's gonna sleep out here on the couch tonight, Jace.” Helaena turned to you. “Can you get up or do you want to stay here?”

“I can't move. My body won't let me,” you whispered.

“Yeah, she’ll sleep out here tonight, Jace. I'll sleep on the floor.”

“I have an air mattress, Hel. You're not gonna sleep on the floor.” Jace turned and left the room once again to get the air mattress and some extra pillows and a blanket.

“Lay down, sweetie. Close your eyes. You've had a rough day.”

Helaena’s voice calmed you. You did as she said and slowly unwound yourself and laid down on the couch. “Hel, I still love him. And I hate him for it.”

It was the last thing you said before falling into the sweet darkness of sleep.

Aemond was still sitting on the floor of your - his - bedroom. Clothes were strewn across the floor. His eye was red from crying; he hasn't stopped since you left. He went to the bathroom to clean up but stopped at the door. When he saw the shattered glass on the ground he whimpered. You did this. You did it because he caused you to feel so much pain that you needed to break something.

Fresh tears began pouring out. His heart was continually breaking. He tried to clean up the mess the best he could but it was hard to see with his one good eye blurry from the crying. Aemond had just picked up all the glass when his phone started ringing.

Without looking at who it was, he answered it, hoping it would be you.

“Princess, please, are you -”

“Princess? Well, that's a new name for me, baby,” the female voice said.

Anger rose inside of him. “How did you get my number, Professor Rivers?”

“‘Professor Rivers?’ Now, now, you know me better than that. In fact you know me extremely well.”

“You didn't answer my question.”

“Oh, no need to know.” He could hear her smile. “I just called to make sure you're okay. I know you're hurting but you know my arms are always open for you.”

“I'm done with you,” Aemond ground out.

“You say that but you know you'll come back to me. They always do.”

“You said you loved me.”

“Yes, and it's true. I love all my students.”

“You said I was the only one.”

“Yes, now that was a lie. Would you have chosen to be with me if you had known you were not the first?”

“I didn't choose you,” he spat out.

“That's not what I remember. If memory serves me correctly, I asked if you were sure you wanted this and you said yes.”

“You were straddling my lap with my cock in your hand!” Aemond’s heartbeat was racing, not at the memory, but at the anger towards this woman.

“And you still could’ve said no. But you didn't. Instead you said yes and the rest is history. And what a damn good history it was.”

“Delete this number and never come near me again.”

“I know you wish that could happen but you know better. I'll delete this number but I'll see you in class on Monday.” With a click the phone call ended.

Aemond let out a guttural scream and punched the already broken mirror. Once. Twice. Three times. Just like you. Tears streamed down his face as he stared at his bloody knuckle. It was another thing that reminded him of you. Opening and closing his hand, he let the blood run down. He stared at it, thinking of you and hoping you were okay.

He turned on the water and ran his hand under it then wrapped it up in some gauze. He wasn't rushing so he had time to actually look for some. Everything has slowed down for him.

After he cleaned up the rest of the glass he went to the couch in the living room. He sat there for a while but soon remembered the many times the two of you made love on it. Immediately getting up he paced, thinking of a place where he wouldn't be reminded of his sins.

“I'm not gonna hear the end of this,” he mumbled to himself. Not packing anything, he left the apartment and called an Uber for his brother, Aegon's, place.

When he got to Aegon’s front door he couldn't even bring himself to knock on the door. Instead he texted his brother to come and open the door.

“And what can I do for my little brother?” Aegon wore a grin.

Aemond took a deep breath. “I cheated on her, Aegon. I fucked up and I can't stand to be in our apartment.”

Aegon’s face dropped. “Shit, I wasn't expecting that. Get in here and tell me how you messed everything up.”

Aemond followed Aegon into the apartment and plopped himself on the couch. Without giving him a second glance, Aegon went to the fridge and grabbed two beers.

“Drink it,” he said as he handed him one. “If you're going to relive your mistakes you should have something to ease the pain.”

In one smooth motion, Aemond took it from Aegon, opened it, and began chugging it. He stopped halfway through the bottle.

“My professor seduced me,” he started off. “And I fucking fell for her. She has a history of getting with students and I thought I could never be one of them but I am, Aegon. I slept with my fucking professor and ruined the only true relationship I've ever had.”

Aegon ran a hand down his face. “Dude, that's bad. Like bad bad.”

“It was more than once, too,” Aemond admitted.

“I'm sorry, what?”

“I basically had a relationship with her. She'd tell me she loved me and I thought it was real even though I already had someone who loved me unconditionally. Fuck, she gave me her heart and I stomped on it the second I started talking to Professor Rivers.” Aemond put his face in his hands.

Aegon nodded his head. “Oh, her.”

“Do you know her?”

“Even I knew she was bad news. There's a reason other than my grades as to why I didn't take her class. She's hot though, I'll give you that.”

“That doesn't help, Aegon.”

Aegon shrugged. “Just saying,” he took a sip of his beer. “What are you gonna do to get her back?”

Aemond blinked. “‘Get her back?’ I don't deserve her!”

“Listen,” Aegon leaned forward. “I've seen you two together and I have never seen you so happy before. I don't know her well but it looked like she had eyes only for you. You gotta go back and get her. Or at least help her.”

“How can I help her when all I've done is cause her pain?” Aemond’s hands began to shake.

“Beg. Get on your knees. Anything to make her smile.”

“I think me dying would make her smile,” Aemond grumbled.

“There we go, that's it!” Aegon went over and clapped Aemond on the back. “While you try to regain your honor, I'm going to ruin that Professor Alys and her career.”

“No! Please don't do that!”

Aegon narrowed his eyes. “Don't tell me you actually have feelings for her.”

“She called me earlier. I don't know how but she got my number. She sounded so sure that I'd go back to her. But I don't! I mean, fuck, you can't. She'll know it was me somehow.”

“I’ll cover your ass, don't worry.” Aegon finished his beer. “Now, you can stay as long as you need to but I don't want you wallowing in self pity. It's annoying when you do that.”

“Thank you, brother.” Aemond went to clasp his arm but Aegon pulled him in for a hug.

“Go get her back.”

When you woke up the next day it took you a while to remember where you were. As you looked around the room, you saw Helaena on an air mattress. That was when it all came rushing back.

Aemond and Alys.

Punching the mirror.

Slapping Aemond.

Running away.

You hurriedly got up when you felt whatever was left in your stomach come up to the surface. Careful not to trip over Helaena, you made a beeline for the bathroom and emptied out your guts. It was the dry heaving that had you crying again. Between the retching and the memories, it all became too much again.

“Sweetie?” Came a sleepy voice. “Are you okay?”

You gagged on nothing in response.

“I'm coming in, hold up.”

The bathroom door creaked open and Helaena entered, hair messy from sleeping.

“Oh, my dear, you look horrible.”

You gave a dry laugh. “Thanks, Hel.” You gagged into the bowl again.

Helaena knelt by you and rubbed your back in soothing circles. “We’ll take it day by day. You can get through this, you're one of the strongest people I know.”

You scoffed. “Yeah, I feel so strong right now.” You hurled out nothing into the toilet bowl again. Your chest was beginning to hurt from all the heaving and still your heart was aching, too. “I don't know when this will stop,” you admitted. Sitting back on your haunches, you looked up at Helaena. “Do I forgive him? Do I ignore him? What do I do if he wants to be back in my life?”

“Then you'll have a decision to make. Open your heart once again to the guy who shattered and trust that he won't do it again, or close yourself off from him forever.”

Your chest tightened at the prospect. On one hand you never wanted to see him again, it'd be too painful. But on the other hand, life without him seemed impossible, lifeless. Yet he broke you and made you feel the way you feel now and that is unforgivable.

When you moved to get up Helaena offered her hand. Once you took it you gave her a thankful squeeze. You linked arms with her and walked to the kitchen where Jace was making breakfast.

“Waffle morning!” He called out. Jace sent you a bright smile.

You cracked the first genuine smile you've had since the break up. Jace always knew how to raise your spirit.

“I made your favorite waffles. There’s whipped cream and strawberries in the fridge if you want any.”

You noticed he wasn’t mentioning yesterday. That was fine for you; you needed a break. Over breakfast you laughed with your friends and briefly forgot about the last twenty four hours. It wasn’t until you brought up slapping him that you brought the topic to the day before.

“I will admit that I did slap him and it felt great. Do I regret it? I do. I’ve never wanted to hurt him but I didn’t know what to do. He kept trying to get closer to me and I didn’t want him near me.”

Helaena and Jace looked at you, stunned.

“You slapped him?” Helaena wanted clarification.

“I wasn’t thinking.” You shrugged.

“That’s better than me,” Jace chuckled. “Next time I see him I’m gonna deck the shit out of him.”

“He deserved that,” Helaena agreed.

“Please don't deck him, Jace. As upset as I am, I still don't want him hurt.”

“You don't want him to get hurt? Look at you! Aemond hurt you so much, punching him is the nicest thing I could do to him,” Jace said.

You flinched at the mention of his name. “Please don't say his name right now.”

“You can't even say his name!” Jace was getting aggravated. “I know you don't like this, but he hurt you and that's not okay. You're one of my best friends and I refuse to stand by and do nothing.”

“And I appreciate that so much, I really do,” you gave Jace a small smile. “But I still care about him, as stupid as that sounds.”

“It's not stupid, sweetie,” Helaena put a hand on your arm. “You love him - don't try to deny it.”

Looking down at your half eaten waffle you contemplated the complexity of your feelings. You still loved him, you knew that. But it hurt so much. You didn't want to love him, he didn't deserve your love. Still, your heart reached out to him, he hurt you, shattered you, but it also being away from him made your heart ache as well.

“I do. I still love him. I feel empty without him and I wish it would stop. I don't want to feel anything anymore.”

“Feeling this is okay, it means you're human.”

“Ugh,” you stuffed a bit of waffle in your mouth. “I don't want to be a human then.”

“Stop being so dramatic,” Jace elbowed you in the side.

“I can't help it,” you elbowed him back.

“See, you're already doing better,” Helaena said.

You took a breath. “Yeah, I am.” A weight has been lifted off your shoulders.

“It will still hit you every now and then,” Helaean warned you.

“I know. But I have you guys to help me,” you clasped a hand from both of them. “And I'm forever grateful.” You sighed. “Ugh, I don’t want to go to class on Monday.”

“I mean,” Jace started, “you don’t have to.”

“You can always take a mental day and it seems like a good time to take one,” Helaena said.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. And -” You were cut off by the doorbell. “Did you guys tell anyone else to be here?”

“No, the only person I called was Hel,” Jace said. “I’ll go check on the door.”

The doorbell rang again.

A familiar sinking feeling came over you. “Gods, what if it’s him?”

Jace’s face hardened. “Then I’m going to punch him like I said I would.”

You turned to Helaena, face filled with panic. “I don’t want to see him again, not now. Please, I can’t do this!” Tears began to fill your eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Helaena took your hand. “We’ll go back to the spare room. Jace will handle this.”

The doorbell rang a third time.

“Gods, he’s impatient,” Jace muttered.

“Go get the door before he starts knocking and trying to break it down,” Helaena ordered.

With your hand in her, Helaena guided you back to the spare room while Jace went to answer the door. Your heartbeat quickened as you heard him open it.

A familiar voice began to speak. “Please, I’m here for -”

You heard the sound of skin hitting skin.

“That’s for hurting my best friend,” you heard Jace say.

A deep sigh. “I deserved that.”

Silence. You imagined the two guys staring at each other. Well, Jace staring hard at him and the other one with his head down in shame.

“I just need to see her, make sure she’s okay.”

“Physically, she’s fine. Emotionally? I’ve never seen her so broken.”

“Fuck,” you almost didn’t hear him. “Can I at least talk to Hel? I saw her car.”

A pause. “Fine.”

Jace’s footsteps came closer and closer to the door. “Hel, he wants to talk to you. Think you can handle it?”

“Of course I can handle my little brother,” Helaena scoffed. “You stay right here.” She gave you one last hug before exiting the room.

“Hel, I really fucked up and -”

SLAP

You couldn’t help the small smile that graced your face.

“How dare you?” Helaena exclaimed. “How dare you hurt her then show up? You should be absolutely ashamed of yourself. You’re weak, Aemond.”

You sucked in a breath at the mention of his name.

“I know I am.” You heard him sniffle. “I destroyed our relationship and now I’m asking for her forgiveness. I know she may never want to see me again, but I at least want to know that she’s healing.”

“Aemond, it hasn’t even been twenty-four hours. She’s not okay at all!” Helaena sighed. “I think you need to leave. She needs space and time before she can see you. Hell, she can’t even say your name. Whatever you did hurt her bad.”

“She - she won’t even say my name?”

“No. That’s how bad this is. So I suggest you go home.”

“...Can I at least see her?”

“No, Aemond. Now, go home.”

You heard the door beginning to close. “WAIT! I mean - he can see me.”

Helaena went to you and gripped your hand. “Sweetie, are you sure?”

“If he tries anything I’ll punch him again,” Jace said.

“It’s fine, guys. Really. I’ll need to face him at some point,” you shrugged. Wiping your eyes, you tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable, that you haven’t been a complete wreck. You walked to the door to face him. To face Aemond.

You weren’t sure what you were expecting when you looked at Aemond but it certainly wasn’t this. His hair was messy, eye was puffy and red, there was a mark where Jace punched him and Helaena slapped him. His eye was devoid of any happiness. Good.

“Princess, I -” he started.

“I thought I told you not to call me that,” you stopped him. “I’m not your princess, never was apparently.”

Something in Aemond’s face broke. “No, no, you know that’s not true.”

“Stop. Please,” you took a deep breath. “You broke me, Aemond,” your voice shook on his name. “I don’t know if I can ever forgive you for what you’ve done. I gave you everything I had and you dropped it all for a professor. I can’t go through that again. Please don’t make me.” Tears slipped out. “Please, just go home.”

Aemond took in a shaky breath. “I’ll go. But know that I will do everything I can to prove to you that you are my one and only love.”

Jace coughed next to you. “Sure.”

Helaena went to the door. “It’s time for you to go, Aemond.”

Aemond nodded his head and turned around. When he got to his car you collapsed into Jace’s arms, full of fresh tears.

“He came back for me,” you choked out. “I don’t know if I want him.”

“You don’t need to take him back if you don’t want to,” Jace said as he held you tight.

“He’s right. Aemond is not entitled to you.” Helaena came back from the doorway. She made sure that Aemond actually left.

“Can I go back to sleep?” you mumbled against Jace.

“Of course, let’s get you in an actual bed this time, though.” Helaena gently peeled you off of Jace and led you to the spare room.

You fell on the bed with a plop and immediately you welcomed the soothing darkness of sleep.

Aemond stepped back into the apartment feeling broken. All he had to do was gather some of his things to take to Aegon’s house. That’s it. Nothing more, nothing less. Simply walking into the apartment, however, had his memories reeling.

“Aemond!” you called from the doorway. “I’m home!”

Aemond made sure you were turned around before picking you up from behind and twirling you. “How were classes, princess?” He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Classes were meh. So nothing new, just normal.” You shrugged. “What about you?”

Aemond felt himself stiffen very briefly. She couldn’t know. He couldn’t tell her. It would only break her. No, he would have to break off everything with Alys. “Classes are fine, nothing new, just like yours.”

“And Professor Rivers?” you asked him. You knew she was a flirt and didn’t want her anywhere near Aemond.

“She’s nowhere near me.” A lie. “I sit in the back of the class.” Another lie.

“Hmmm okay.” There was something unsettling about his answer but you let it slide.

“I love you and only you, okay Princess? Never forget that.” He captured your lips in a kiss.

------

“Oh, fuck, harder, Aemond!” Alys was bent over her desk with her skirt hiked up.

Aemond pounded into her. He was torn in his mind. His body craved Alys but his heart and mind knew this would break his Princess if she ever found out.

“More, more!”

His fingers dug into Alys’ skin as he picked up the pace. His thrusts were becoming sloppy, he was near his peak.

“FUCK, AEMOND!” Alys squeezed Aemond’s cock, triggering his own release.

Aemond caught himself before he fell on top of Alys, not out of courtesy, but that he didn’t want to touch her anymore. He pulled out of her and fixed his pants. He didn’t look her in the eye anymore when he was with her. He simply looked at the ground.

“Aw, baby, are you okay?” Alys had fixed her skirt. She trailed a manicured hand up his chest and brought it up to cup his face.

Without thinking, Aemond leaned into her touch.

“Don’t worry, she’ll never find out.” She pulled him down so she could whisper in his ear. “You’ll always have a place with me. You don’t need her.”

At that, Aemond recoiled. “You’re wrong, I do need her.”

“If that’s true, then why are you with me?”

He couldn’t think of a reason.

“Exactly. You want me, and that’s okay.” Alys moved her other hand to cup him through his pants. He was already beginning to harden again. “Tsk, you already want to go again, babe?”

“No,” Aemond ground out. “I don’t.”

Alys ignored him as she kneeled down to the ground. “Oh, but your cock says otherwise.” She slowly unzipped his pants and freed his cock. “Would you like me to taste you?”

Aemond swore he said no but, “Yes.”

Aemond was crying as he was gathering his clothes. It hurt. Everything hurt. When he was in the bathroom all he could think about was you punching the mirror. When he was in the living room all he could think about was all the times you made love on the couch.

He fell to his knees and clutched his chest. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Princess.” He curled up on the ground and held himself while he sobbed. He was broken. He knew he made terrible choices and now he had to live with them.

When he finally got up to leave the apartment, he found one of your favorite sweaters. He choked on another sob as he ran his fingers on it, imagining you and your smile while wearing it. Bringing it up to his nose, he inhaled the scent. Your scent. Putting it back on the hook, he adjusted the bags in his hands, and made his way back to the outside world.

“Why did you go to her?” Aegon groaned. “That was such a stupid move.”

“I had to see her,” Aemond murmured. “I had to make sure she was okay. That she wasn’t took hurt.”

“And how did that work out for you?”

Aemond looked up at his brother. “She’s in so much pain and I caused all of that.”

“Were you expecting anything different?”

“Not really.”

“Exactly. Man, you’re just punishing yourself by seeing her like that. Stop. You want to fix this? Then get off your ass and start fixing it. This means ending everything, and I mean everything, with Professor Rivers.”

Aemond nodded; he had to follow his brother’s advice if he were to get you back.

“Thank you for a constructive class this afternoon. I'll see you all on Wednesday.” Professor Rivers dismissed her students.

Aemond was quick to get up and gather his things but Professor Rivers was quicker.

“Aemond, I'd like to see you in my office, please.”

Something in Aemond's gut began to sink. His hands were soon clammy. He didn't want to do this, didn't want to face her, but he knew he had to. Taking a shaky breath, he followed Professor Rivers to her office.

He was sure she was swaying her hips more than usual, and even wore a smaller skirt. As they arrived at her office she looked around before sliding a hand along his chest and whispering in his ear. “Gods, I've missed you.” One hand moved to cup his crotch while she used her other hand to pulled him down in a kiss. Aemond wanted to lean into her, to kiss her, but he thought of you and pulled back.

“You said you needed to see me, Professor Rivers?” He tried to keep his face neutral.

“Ah, yes. Please, come in.” She opened the door.

As Aemond stepped in, he took a seat in front of her desk, like any other student would do. He heard the click of a lock but refused to turn around.

Alys ran a hand across his back then over his shoulder. She gripped him tight. “Why don't you turn around, baby? Or do you want me in your lap?” She sauntered around him and set herself on his thighs. “Oh, I can feel you. You're trying so hard but you know you could never resist me.” She pulled him in for a kiss.

Aemond let her kiss him. He did his best not to kiss back but he failed. Soon, he was gripping her waist and aggressively kissing her. Alys was right. He could never leave her. She ground herself on his cock, straining against his pants.

“Forget about her,” she said against his lips.

Immediately, reality hit Aemond and he reeled back and pushed her off. “No. It’s you I need to forget.”

Alys looked at him, eyes wide, panting with her hand on her chest. For a second she looked stunned but recovered quickly. “Aemond. She’s gone. You ruined her. It’s because of you that she left, not me.”

“No,” Aemond shook his head. “You tricked me, you used me somehow. Convinced that we could be together.”

“Oh, my dear,” she purred, “you made the choice to come to me. And you will always come to me, or in me. It’s wonderful both ways.” She stalked towards him and once again reached out.

“I love her more than I want to be with you.”

“That’s not what your body says.” Alys made a note of glancing at his crotch.

“I don’t care what my body says. It only wants a fuck, that’s all you’ll ever be to anyone.”

“Who says I want more? That’s all I want, all I ever needed out of you, was a good fuck. And damn, are you fucking good.”

Aemond ignored her. “Gods, you played me and I was an idiot to believe your lies.”

“Lies? Not all of them are lies. It’s not a lie that I love you, well part of you. Your cock is just so good.”

Aemond crossed the room to get away from her but she followed. “Fuck that. I never want to see you again, Professor Rivers.” He pushed her away again.

“Now, now, we don’t have to get into formalities.” She was looking worried. No other student has talked to her like this before, has actually pushed her back.

“We’re done. I’m done with you, with your lies, everything. Hell, I’ll even report you.”

Alys laughed. “Report me? And who will believe you?”

“You don’t know what exactly I’m capable of to get what I want.” There was a vengeful gleam in his eye. He turned to leave. “By the way, I’m transferring out of your class. I never want to see you or hear from you ever again.” And with that, Aemond stalked out of her office.

As soon as Aemond was out of her office, he went straight to the president. “Professor Strong, one of your staff members has been harassing students.”

Professor Larys Strong turned around. “Ah, yes. I think I know who you’re talking about. I’ve heard all the rumors.”

“Then why haven’t you done anything?” Aemond asked.

“Because they’re just that. Rumors. Unless you have proof?”

Aemond blanched. “Check the hallway cameras outside of Professor Rivers’ office. She cornered me there.”

Professor Strong hummed. “Cornered? Are you sure? I’ve heard whispers that you’ve been going to her willingly.”

“She shouldn’t be doing this! She’s taking advantage of her students!”

“Fine.” Professor Strong flourished a hand. “If there is footage of her, coercing you, and you are resisting, then fine. I will look into it.”

Aemond nodded his head, knowing it was the best answer he could get right now, and left for Aegon’s apartment.

“I did it!” Aemond burst into the living room breathing hard. “I ended everything and I reported her.”

“Great!” Aegon popped his head around the corner. “I keyed her car!”

“I - you - what?”

“Yeah, I keyed her car,” Aegon repeated. Aegon walked over to Aemond, completely serious. “I found her car in the campus parking lot and I keyed it. Specifically, I carved ‘fuck you.’”

“I guess I'll have to thank you for that one. Wish I could've been there myself but…” Aemond trailed off.

“You made the right choice, brother.”

About a month had passed and you felt…lighter. It was as though a weight had been taken off of your shoulder. You still felt the heaviness of the break up but it wasn't completely unbearable anymore.

You still hadn't gone back to the apartment; you still stayed with Jace. Sitting up and stretching, you looked out the window to see the sun rising. Staring out the window you thought of all that you had gone through the last month.

Aemond’s tried to contact you but every time your phone rang you let it go to voicemail. You'd be lying if you said you didn't listen to each and every message. It broke your heart to hear him but you had to stand your ground. He betrayed you in the worst way possible, he couldn’t be easily forgiven.

Every now and then you'd go through your social media profiles and look through the pictures of the two of you. Both of you were so happy, so in love, and it showed. But he broke it. It was a lie. Taking a shaky breath, you pushed the thought from your mind. Over the last week or so you've been training yourself not to say it was a lie. He did love you, at least at one point, but then he met Professor Rivers and he apparently fell out of love with you. Wrapping your arms around yourself you cried a bit for the first time in a few days. It was cathartic. There was a knock at the door and Helaena stepped in.

“Hey, sweetie, how are you doing?” She said softly.

A watery smile graced your face. “I'm doing okay, no improvement from the last few days. I've just been thinking.”

“I figured as much.” She sat down on the bed next to you. “You know, I do believe he loves you. He's been trying to get in touch, but I don't blame you for not answering him. I've seen my brother at his worst but whenever I saw you two together he looked the happiest I've ever seen.”

“‘Loves?’ I think you're looking for ‘loved.’ I don't think he loves me anymore.”

“Even with the constant phone calls and texts?”

“He just feels bad he was caught, I'm sure.” You rolled your eyes.

“Sweetie, I know you may not want to hear it, but I think he really might still love you.”

There was a sinking feeling in your gut. You wanted so badly to believe Helaena but letting Aemond in again would mean opening yourself up to more hurt.

“I don't know if I want to risk my heart again, Hel. And how do I know he's not gonna cheat on me again? What if Professor Rivers comes back?”

“You won't have to worry about her,” Jace said as he leaned on the door frame. “Apparently she's being investigated for sexually harassing students. That and it's against university policy to be involved with them, too.”

A smile played on your lips. “Wait, what?”

Jace shrugged. “Apparently someone finally stepped up to tell the president. There was footage of Professor Rivers hitting on a student outside of her office in the hallway.”

“Do you know who reported her?” Helaena was on the edge of her seat.

“Aemond.”

You sucked in a breath. “Aemond reported her?”

“Yeah, and apparently she tried to kiss him in the hallway and moved her hand over his, uh, crotch.”

Anger bubbled within you. As much as it hurt for him to have betrayed you, knowing Professor Rivers still wanted him even after he pushed her away made your blood boil.

“Gods I hate her. I hate what she did to Aemond, I hate what she did to me, I hate what she did to us,” you ground out.

“The investigation isn't complete. While Aemond's footage does show that she made unwanted advances, he still followed her into her office.

“Of course he did. He'll keep going back to her.”

It hurt, knowing he still followed her even after he said no. You had no doubt they still did things in her office.

“But,” Jace interjected, “there are a few others who have stepped up to say something. Apparently the guys Professor Rivers has been involved with include Jason Lannister and Cregan Stark. Just those two alone make a good case against her.”

“Maybe I should talk to him,” you murmured.

“I think you should, sweetie.” Helaena put a hand over yours and squeezed tight.

“...I think I will. It's not a promise we'll get back together but it's something.” You looked at your two best friends. “Thank you for everything, I love you guys so much.” Your eyes began to water and a few tears slipped out but they were thankful tears. Tears that were light.

When Jace and Helaena left your room you picked up your phone to find a new voicemail from Aemond. With shaking hands you brought the phone up to your eye and listened.

“I'm so sorry. I know I can't say it enough. I never loved her, I was thinking with my dick. I miss you. I miss you so much and I will do whatever it takes for you to at least look at me again. Everything I do, everything I see, reminds me of you. If I could turn back time and never enroll in her class I'd do it. I'm not even in it anymore, I dropped out of the class.” A break. “When I saw you that day, when you saw everything, I knew I had fucked up. I knew beforehand that I fucked up yet I kept making those decisions. I will never be able to erase the pain from your heart and I wish I could. Gods, I wish I could. I promise you that you are the love of my life, no one else.”

A fresh wave of tears rolled down your face. It's the same thing he's said over and over again but this time you could feel his desperation. You didn't know how long it would last until he would give up, so you took your chance and called him back. The phone rang once.

“Aemond,” you wanted to be the first one to talk. “I - I think I'm ready to see you.”

“Princess! Gods, you called me back.” You could hear his voice crack.

“Please don't call me that,” you whispered. Being called his princess made your heart ache.

“I'm sorry, I won't do that again.”

You smiled a sad smile. “Let's meet at the apartment, okay? Neutral ground.”

“You want to see me?”

“I think I'm ready now. I'll see you around noon?”

“Yeah, noon works. I'll see you then.”

And with a click of the button the line was dead.

Walking out of the spare room and into the living room, you found Helaena and Jace lounging on the couch.

“I'm going to meet him later today at the apartment,” you announced.

“You are?” Exclaimed Jace. “If he tries anything I swear I'm gonna -”

Helaena interrupted him, “I don't think Aemond is going to try anything. He's too afraid of hurting her even more.”

Jace turned to you. “Are you sure about this?”

You nodded. “As sure as I'll ever be. But I can't keep avoiding him forever, either.”

“I'm so proud of you.” Helaena got up and wrapped you in a warm hug. “You can do this, sweetie.”

As you pulled up at the apartment complex, your chest began to tighten and your breaths became short.

“I'm right out here if you need me, remember? If you gotta get out just run and hop in.” Helaena told you.

You took one big breath before nodding your head and then stepping out of the car. There wasn't any sign of Aemond, at least not that you could tell. Walking up the stairs was a challenge; each step felt heavier and heavier. You had to do this, though. Face your fear and tackle him straight on. As you reached the door you noticed it wasn't locked.

“I can do this,” you whispered to yourself. Steeling your nerves, you knocked on the door.

Almost immediately the door opened. It was as if Aemond was sitting by the door waiting for you.

“You came,” he mumbled.

“I did.”

“Come in.” He held the door open for you to enter the threshold.

The apartment was a mess. It was unkempt, clothes were everywhere, you could even see the shattered glass that was never picked up after you punched the mirror. It was as though Aemond had no drive to keep the place tidy anymore. You turned your focus to him and saw that he was in the same state as the apartment; a mess. His hair was frizzy, loose ends were everywhere. His face looked like it had sunken in a bit. He seemed skinnier than before and it's only been a month. There was a dark circle under his eye that looks like it's been there a long time.

For a moment you and Aemond just stared at each other, not believing you were seeing one another.

“I got her fired. She's no longer on campus,” he blurted.

“Good, good.”

“I've missed you.”

You met him with silence. Staring at him, you could see how painful this was for him, not to touch you, not to comfort.

“Why? Why did you do it?” Your voice was barely louder than a whisper.

Aemond shuffled awkwardly. “I don't know.”

“That's not an answer.” A laugh left you. “Tell me why or I'm going to walk out. What did she have that I didn't? Was I not enough for you?” Tears began to flow down your cheeks.

“No, no,” he took a step towards you but you stepped back. “I don't know what I was thinking. She was seductive, I guess. I liked how she was taboo.”

“So I need to be a forbidden fruit to be with you?” You scoffed

“No, I know now that's not what I want.”

“You wanted her? If you wanted her then why didn't you break up with me when it started?”

“Because I didn't want to hurt you.”

“Hurt me? Aemond, you did so much more damage than what you could've done. You shattered me. I felt my heart break when I saw you fucking her,” you spat out the last few words.

“I know, I know,” he pleaded.

“Do you?”

He took a step back. “You're right, I don't know. I don't know how badly I've hurt you, I don't know the struggle you've been through.” He collapsed to his knees and bowed his head. “And I'm so fucking sorry. I wish I could take everything back.” His body began to shake with sobs.

“Aemond…” you knelt down in front of him and put a hand on his shoulder. “I…I don't know if I could ever forgive you.”

He sobbed harder.

“But I know I still want you in my life. I love you, Aemond, and this past month has been terrible without you by my side.”

“You still love me? Even after all I've done?” He looked into your eyes. His one was puffy and red.

“I don't think I can ever not love you,” you have him a small smile. “I don't know if I could trust you again, either.”

“I understand.”

“But,” you started. “I'm willing to try again.” You placed a hand on his cheek and cupped his face. “It'll be a long time until I'll even be ready to hear you call me Princess again. But we can work on it together.”

Aemond looked at you with awe. “You want to try again?”

“Yes. I do. I can't imagine a world without you. I could barely stand a single month.” You chuckled and moved to intertwine your hand with his.

“I don't deserve you,” he whispered.

“No, you don't. But I miss you and I need you in my life, please, Aemond.”

“I'll be in your life if you want me to. I'll do anything for you.” His hand reached for your arm and he gave a small squeeze.

“It'll be a while until I can give my heart to you again. We'll take it slow.”

“I'll hold on to you tight.” He pressed his forehead against yours. “I'll do better this time.”

“One step at a time.”

#fics by bean #aemond x reader #modern aemond #modern aemond Targaryen #modern hotd #hotd fanfic #modern hotd au #modern au #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond targaryen x you

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jeongharine · 10 months ago

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syntax ERROR

⚝ wonwoo x reader

⚝ comedy, light smut

⚝ notes: the one where jeon wonwoo is your nerdy math tutor. but he’s unexpectedly hot. and you’re his friend’s sister. obviously. (part ii)

“a pc bang?” “yes she’s always there,” says hoshi, while munching down his sandwich.

“but i can’t teach her there-” “of course you can’t, but you’ll find her there. it’s the one on the left around the corner,”

“now, remind me why i am doing this,” “because you’re my friend and i’m fantastic at being one,”

wonwoo just gulps down his apple juice, looking at the time on his phone.

“you should change this narrative, it’s getting boring,” “wonu, i just need you to do me this favour because if she doesn’t pass this class it’ll be a problem, okay?”

a sigh. “yes, that’s fine. but only for this class okay?” hoshi grins, all teeth “you’re the best,”

“yeah.. i better be going then, i hope she’s a well-mannered student otherw-” wonwoo says, setting off.

“oh.. about that..” “what?” he stops.

“nothing, she listens well,” hoshi says, scratching the back of his head.

she listens well when she wants to, he should have said.

not that this a surprise for wonwoo, knowing her brother. but damn, this girl is getting on his nerves.

“okay y/n, let me be clear. your brother begged me to give you lessons, so now please can we go to the library?”

“nu-uh, i have a tournament here this afternoon. we can do another day,” you crack your fingers and re-position your chair.

“see, maybe this is why you’re not getting through this class. you can do the tournament another day, it’s more important to study matrix systems to pass the exam than gaming,”

“boooooring, i will do that tonight if i feel like it okay? i don’t need your-” you turn your chair around to face him. “...help...”

since when your brother’s friends were this handsome. holy fuck, with that cap on before you couldn’t see anything and maybe he should have kept it on for your sanity. fuck. fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck. fuckity fuck.

you can see that he is deeply annoyed by your behaviour, probably he’s used to people who take academic life very seriously. nah, he’s friend with hoshi so. you scoff a laugh.

and he’s just there, looking at you, waiting for an answer.

or maybe to beg you.

“but on second thoughts...” you begin to say, “we can come to an agreement..” “that is?” he shifts in his position.

“we game for about an hour, because you game and i can see that just by looking at your face. and then, we can look at the first two chapters of maths analysis. i think this we’ll do, yes.” you grin widely.

and he hates to admit that the grinning suits you best.

wonwoo promised hoshi that he would have at least gotten through the matrix systems today with you, but here he is. without a fucking clue of what to do.

and you are just looking at him smiling prettily, as if you absolutely don’t know how charming and good-looking you are.

so wonwoo just sighs, and turns his head to glance at the pc screen near him.

even his side profile is pretty, you think to yourself.

“fine. but at least let’s play some battlegrounds.”

“can’t promise you anything,” you say pleasantly, eyes creasing in a glittering smile that suddenly makes wonwoo skittish.

“do you want to fuck my brains out?”

the air in his little dorm becomes unbearably stuffy all of a sudden but you refuse to let it show, after finally voicing the thoughts that were possessing your head for the past few weeks.

wonwoo turns to face you, looking far more collected. you never would have thought it would all come to a head like this in his room on a monday afternoon. but here you are, feeling a little light headed but inexplicably brave.

“i mean,” you say. “doesn’t every girl on campus you know want you to fuck their brains out?” “that you have to tell me, i don’t think i can give you an answer,” he says, piling up the books on his desk.

he starts to drum his long fingers on the cover of the statistics textbook for a good minute, eyes focused on the dusty windowsill while he is chewing on the inside of his cheek.

and it takes you a second to really make that sink in: wonwoo is restless. he is hanging on your next words.

“so, are you going to say something or you will make me wait here all afternoon?”

you smile. and he hates how his palpitations go up by a notch.

“neither. just knowing that you rubbed one out to the thought of me is closure enough to me.” he clearly tenses up. “who says i have?”

you close your textbook with a thud. “oh, don’t be embarrassed wonu. we’ve all been there at one point or another.”

he’s at the brink of being disgusted with himself for getting a hard on when you just used his nickname like that, but despite it all his heart still leaps up into his throat when you sit up from his bed and collect your bag.

“you touched yourself thinking of me?”

you look at him with one hand on the door handle and wonwoo swears his vision blurs slightly as you grin at him like that.

“you say it like you’re surprised.”

there is no build up, no easing you into the uncharted waters. he kisses open the seam of your mouth without any hesitation, the heat of your tongue against his. it feels so harsh and erotic, so completely unlike the wonwoo you just got to know.

so polite and so pleasant.

but now his hands are on you. and you haven’t had the time to realize your eyes were closed until his hands come up to palm around your waist, searching for skin while you whine against him.

your brain is foggy with the taste of him. he pulls back just as you starts to sway in his arms.

“you don’t even know...” he traces up your back. “..what you do to me, uhm?” you gulp, lips all wet.

the muskiness of him makes your head spin fast, especially when he leaves soft kisses on the skin behind your ear. his mouth is so hypnotic, every move perfectly placed.

“wonwoo,” you stammer, not knowing what else to say. your voice has gone croaky and his hand is venturing up your sweater now, not looking like it would stop any time soon.

your breath catches in your throat when wonwoo trails his fingertips over your clothed breast, dancing across it before brushing the underside. you expected his touches to be harsh, sharp. but they are slow, feather-light. practiced.

his chest heaving like he’s just run a mile, the skin of his stomach hard and hot under your fingers from where you shoved his t-shirt up. his lips are smooth when you inch up to kiss him, gently by his cupid’s bow just to make him grunt. wonwoo’s hands curl around your wrists gently, pampering you with kisses for a couple of minutes before pulling away.

“fuck me,” you whisper. and then, because he has to double take like he didn’t quite hear you right. “fuck me wonwoo, please.”

“please. please, wonu. i’m begging.”

“y/n…” wonwoo growls, because he is really close to pop a blood vessel when you sound all whiny and shameless like that.

“i don’t care if someone will hear us,” you murmur against his mouth before pressing it there for a short kiss. you proceed to trail wet pecks all over his jaw and neck, so that he has to close his eyes with a soft sigh.

“fuck,” he whispers, “you’re really begging me to fuck you here when your brother could come back any minute,” wonwoo says, kissing you.

it’s getting difficult for you to respond when his hand ventures down to undo your jeans though, mouth hanging open in pleasure while he nips at your bottom lip before pushing you back down on his bed.

“you have to be extra quiet, okay?” he huffs. and there is something wonderfully satisfying for wonwoo to see you like this, underneath him and all putty in his hands.

“wonu,” you whine again, accepting the soft kiss he presses on your lips before he turns you over and positions you how he wants: on your knees, ass up, face pushed into a pillow to muffle your moans.

“you’re so impatient,” he chuckles behind you, but it sounds so soft. fond, even. he pecks your ear swiftly while you listen to him sliding down your jeans and undies and prepare himself, your heart thudding in anticipation. you’re so thrilled you barely register the embarrassment and awkwardness of being left to wait like this, propped up and ready for him to fuck you stupid. and you gasp when you finally feel his erection against your weeping slit, hot and everything you want.

he keeps grinding against your slick folds. “wonwoo,” you whimper, because his tip keeps slipping in and that alone is making you gush. you push your hips back, tears blurring your sight with how desperately you want him inside you. “please.”

he chuckles softly, leaning over to kiss your shoulder before finally pushing into you.

“so, i assume the lessons are going well since you two see each other three times a week now,” hoshi says, voice muffled by the noodles he’s slurping.

his eyes are set on wonwoo’s face, lost in the gimbap in front of him.

because if wonwoo has to be real honest, the lessons are going really well, yes. but also his dating life.

and how can he say that to hoshi... ‘oh yeah, she’s really smart hosh and also a fucking star at giving head!’

in his defence, wonwoo would probably never get over the fact that he has succeded in pulling someone like you. he suddenly turns pink thinking about your pretty smile and your prettier laugh. the glint in your eyes when gaming together and the concentrated face you make when trying to understand math concepts that even he has difficulties in teaching. you clinging onto his arm, the late night ramen runs at the convenience store and your honeyed sighs and moans when you’re in the private of your own.

so yeah, he doesn’t really know where to start with this.

“wonu-yah?” hoshi hisses, and suddenly wonwoo gulps when his friend is holding his stare in a vice grip.

“we’re fucking hosh,” he admits timidly, and hoshi starts swearing.

#wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen x reader #wonwoo smut #seventeen fic #wonwoo fic #svt fic #wonwoo x y/n #seventeen smut #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenarios #seventeen imagines

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peachdues · 6 months ago

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A little softness from Part II of The Great War, featuring Giyuu’s unfurnished manor and the first look at the meeting between Reader and the Uzui gang…

READ PART I HERE

Giyuu watched her survey his estate and he felt a flush of embarrassment. He’d never given much thought to its furnishings beyond the barest essentials – namely, his futon and a mismatched assortment of cookwares for the rare occasion he bothered to prepare himself a meal.

Admittedly, he’d never spared much consideration for how empty and barren his home might appear to outsiders. Never before had it occurred to him to decorate; after all, he’d never had visitors in his time with the Corps, apart from the time Tanjiro had come to train with him, shortly before that final battle. But then, as he watched his new fiance slowly take in the sprawling estate before her, he felt a strange unease.

“It’s not much,” he admitted, quietly. “But you are free to do – to decorate – as you wish.”

Y/N still did not answer, and Giyuu found himself in a rush to explain; to justify. “This is your home, too, after all –”

At that, the shrine maiden’s eyes snapped to his, as though suddenly aware he was indeed there.

“Forgive me, I –,” her voice faltered as her eyes swept across the empty interior of the Manor. “I have never had a place I could truly call my own. But now I do.”

She finally looked to him, and Giyuu realized he expression had not been one of wary judgment; it was awe.

“Thank you,” she whispered, her hand rising to settle against his cheek. “Thank you for returning to me. Thank you for this gift.”

As Y/N hurriedly re-dressed in her shrine clothes, she swore she heard a titter of voices join the one which had loudly disrupted her soft morning with her new fiance.

Once dressed, the young Miko quickly looked around her fiance’s sparsely furnished bedroom, desperate for a mirror to ensure she looked presentable, but to her chagrin, there was none. With a grimace, she fished her small wooden comb out of her bag and yanked it through her hair, scowling at some of the knots which had formed as a result of Giyuu’s enthusiastic fingers.

She moved like a storm through the bedroom, finding the delicate hairpin the Water Pillar had gifted her discarded haphazardly to the side of the futon. Y/N quickly twisted her hair back and slid the pin through the knot she’d made, securing it in place. Her hands patted nervously down her front, smoothing any wrinkles or pulls in her shrine uniform. There was little else she could do to ensure her appearance was proper to greet guests, but she would have to discuss the need for a mirror with Giyuu later.

Quietly, she slid the door of the bedroom open and padded softly down the long hallway which led to the front of the Water Pillar’s estate. As she drew nearer, the muffled hum of voices clarified.

“Kanao and that haughty loudmouth of hers are quite cross with you,” the male voice, warm and rich boomed from the front of the Manor. “You didn’t even allow them to examine you once you woke up –”

“I had something I needed to do,” came Giyuu’s even reply. “It could not wait.”

There was a great snort. “You just don’t think, Giyuu.”

Y/N drew upon the last corner that separated her from Giyuu and his guests and she paused. After two quick, steadying breaths, she squared her shoulders and forced her legs to carry her around the partition, her heart lodged uncomfortably in her throat.

The four strangers gathered in the front hall did not immediately notice her appearance, but the Manor’s raven-haired master did. The moment the shrine maiden stepped into the entry wing, Giyuu turned toward her. Though the man – lumbering and massive as he was – had been in te middle of lecturing the former Water Pillar about the need to take care of his health, Giyuu’s attention on her remained rapt, his eyes full of warmth and longing.

Slowly, each of the strangers – three women and one man – turned their attention to what had so ensnared that of their friend’s, and suddenly, Y/N found herself bearing the uncomfortable weight of four additional pairs of eyes.

Three and a half, she corrected inwardly, noting that the one who’d ben speaking when she’d arrived wore a distinct, bejeweled eyepatch over his left eye.

The four strangers continued to stare at her, their faces contorted in various degrees of surprise, from the stunned, raised-eyebrow expression worn by the woman whose hair was slicked back and up, to the gobsmacked, slack-jawed look of pure awe by the girl whose eyes were a distinct shade of brilliant blue.

The male companion blinked. “Well,” he straightened, a massive arm coming to rest on his hip as he flashed her a crooked smile. “I guess this is the reason you were in such a hurry to leave the Butterfly Mansion, huh?”

—

BONUS:

“Who is this, Giyuu?” The silver haired man prompted, eye flicking back and forth between Y/N and his comrade.

“She is everything.” Giyuu said simply, and Y/N felt her cheeks burn. “She is my betrothed.”

such babies 🥺

#demon slayer #kimetsu no yaiba #giyuu tomioka #kny #kny x reader #kny fanfic #kny giyuu #giyuu x reader #kimetsu giyuu #giyuu x y/n #demon slayer fanfic #kny smut #demon slayer smut

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forgettable-au · 11 months ago

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FORGETTABLE-AU MASTERPOST

A masterpost to organize everything! mostly art and comics!

HERE is a post explaining the forgettable au

HERE is the frequently asked questions!

-------------------------------

MAIN COMIC

CHAPTERS

Prologue

Chapter I

Message From The Past

Chapter II

The Scientific Method

Chapter III

The Star

Chapter IV

Metamorphosis

Chapter V

The Past

Chapter VI

Endless

Chapter VII

An Ending And Continue

MINI-COMICS

(Some of these, especially the old ones that were posted before the comic, aren't canon to the comic)

--answered asks--

17 , 16 , 15 , 14 , 13 , 12 , 11 , 10 , 9 , 8 , 7 , 6 , 5 , 4 , 3 , 2 ,( 1 old)

--extras--

5 , 4 , 3 ,( 2 , 1 OLD)

ART/CONCEPT ART

13, 12 , 11 , 10 , 9 , 8 , 7 , 6 , 5 , 4 ,( 3 , 2 , 1 VERY OLD)

ASKS (I'm re-organizing this rn)

-------------------------------

#I find the quality jump between posts from june 2022 to october 2023 very funny #why did my brain take a one year break from undertale wha

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vivid-ink · 1 year ago

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'The Love Shack' Part V - The Fault Is Ours

Relationship: Neteyam(23) x fem!Omatikaya reader(21) x Lo'ak(22) Warnings: Adult content 18+ MDNI

Part V Summary: You'd prepared for Neteyam's upset, prepared for his anger, but what you hadn't prepared for or even anticipated was his complete and total disregard for you... Word count: 13.7k

Series content: Mentions of group sex, MMF threesome, smut, sex toy play, squirting, anal sex, kuru play

Read Part I, II, III and IV in my Masterlist HERE

Author's Note: My darling lovelies, I present to you the finale Chapter 5 of this series. 🥰 I never thought I'd write anything else after 'Violet Eyes', but lo and behold, here I am at the end of my fifth series. And it's honestly all thanks to you wonderful folk in this community who have supported me & brought me so much enjoyment. Without further do, enjoy this finale!

***~~~***

“I could ask you the same thing! What the fuck are you playing at?”

Lo’ak’s words rang in your ears and looped over and over in your stunned mind. Shaken and upset by Neteyam’s abrupt exit, your words had forsaken you and you’d been unable to offer immediate any answer to Lo’ak’s question apart from meekly muttered apologies.

It had very quickly dawned on you that whilst Lo’ak appeared as confused as you were, he and you were not at all confused about the same thing. You were reeling at his brother’s upset, whereas he appeared to be upset with you and confused by your actions.

You were alone in the play area currently. Lo’ak had gone into the shack’s main area to find some space and presumably warm some water for clean-up. You’d always had one of the brothers, usually Neteyam, to burrow against and snuggle up to while the other prepped the necessary things for clean-up and aftercare. The solitude tonight was new and it was unpleasant.

With Neteyam’s heated departure and Lo’ak’s apparent irritation, you felt cold, confused and abandoned.

Fat teardrops squeezed from between your lashes where you sat on folded legs on the bed, hunched over and hugging yourself. Your kept your snuffles as quiet as possible. You always felt vulnerable and frazzled after a session with the brothers. Once the extreme highs of sex and pleasure play had diminished, you were often thrown into a hormonal slump that left you feeling exposed and in need of comfort. There was no comfort today.

Neteyam had stormed off and now Lo’ak was angry with you too… You’d just wanted a parting kiss from each of them…

Your arms were crossed over your front and your fingernails dug into the flesh of your upper arms as you cried. The entire space still smelled of the activities you had engaged in with the brothers, and the scent was suddenly suffocating.

Eywa, tonight’s session had ended in disorientation and disaster… You should’ve listened to your mind’s cautioning earlier… You should’ve just said your piece and left…

Deciding it was probably best for you to leave, you crawled to the edge of the bed and stood on wobbly legs. Finding your chest covering on the floor, you secured it again over your breasts, fingers fumbling clumsily with the ties. Eyes still blurry from your tears, you swiped a hand over your face and continued to look for your loincloth.

Lo’ak re-entered the space with some cloths and a bowl of warm water. He took in your trembling and tearful state as you attempted to dress yourself again, and he sighed, “Hey, where are you going? Stop.”

“I think I should go. “You mumbled. You refused to meet his eyes, keeping your head downturned with your chin tucked against your chest, “I didn’t mean to upset you both.”

Setting down the things he was carrying, Lo’ak stopped you trying to pull your loincloth up your legs, “No, lie back down. We still need to get you cleaned up. I’m not letting you leave like this. Eywa, look at you.”

The sticky mess between your legs was trickling down your thighs. Your skin was damp with sweat and your nose was running from your tears. When you ignored his words and twisted out of his gentle hold, the remainder of Lo’ak’s patience snapped. With a growl, he took hold of you by your waist and hauled you back onto the soft bedding despite your rueful cries to leave you be.

Lo’ak watched as you curled onto your side, sobbing into your hands. He was still annoyed at what you’d done earlier, but he also recognised the emotional mess you were in after their play session. It was also obvious to him that you didn’t understand what had caused Neteyam’s upset. With another bone-weary sigh, he wet several small cloths in the bowl he’d brought in and wrung them dry.

“Shh, sweet thing. Come on, let me clean you up.” Lo’ak coaxed, gentling his voice.

He crawled onto the bedding next to you and tenderly parted your knees to sweep the cloth up your thighs and between them. Taking the other warm cloth, he folded it and placed it over your core, knowing the warmth of it would soothe the temporary swelling from their session. He wiped you down with a third cloth, the moist warmth of it smoothing over your belly, back and upper arms. He gently pried your hands from your face and he cleaned them too before dabbing at your face last.

“I’m sorry.” Your voice was an unhappy squeak.

Putting the cleaning cloths aside, Lo’ak tucked himself behind your curled form, spooning you. He tucked an arm around your waist and pulled you to him, “Do you even know what you’re apologising for?”

“For upsetting you both.”

“Do you know why Neteyam took off and why I’m upset too?”

You considered his question. Great Mother, Neteyam had been furious… Things were strained enough already between the two of you and now it felt like things had broken down even further. And you’d simply kissed Lo’ak… You didn’t understand his recoil either…

You shook your head, fighting back another swelling bout of emotion, “No.”

Lo’ak cursed softly. He kept his arm around you though, wanting to soothe you still despite his frustration with you, with his brother, with the whole situation. He began measuredly, “I’m going to say my piece and I’m only going to say it once, because this whole thing, this we-don’t-talk-about-feelings shit, that you and Neteyam have going on is getting ridiculous.”

You sniffed softly, pawing at your eyes again when more unwanted tears poured forth, “Feelings can’t come into this. This arrangement was physical only.”

“Does that change the fact that they exist?” Lo’ak asked. Knowing you wouldn’t see as you were facing away from him, he gave an emphatic roll of his eyes, “Look, I know you have feelings for my brother, and I don’t think I’m speaking out of turn here because I feel like you know this already, but Neteyam returns those feelings.”

You shifted, rolling onto your back so you could scowl at him, “Where are you going with this? What does it matter?”

Lo’ak propped his head up on his elbow, responding with a glower of his own, “It matters because the bond that you share is sincere! There’s meaning there. What you and I share? That’s purely physical; just sex and body play. If you kiss me it’s because you enjoy the sensation, but there’s no meaning there.”

“So that’s why you’re angry? Because I kissed you and it doesn’t mean anything?”

An exasperated hiss left Lo’ak, his irritation rising again, “No! I’m upset because Neteyam is upset! You upset my brother, you upset me. That’s how this works.”

You could match his rising temper, however. Sick of the confusion you felt and just wanting Lo’ak to speak plainly, you spat, “So why is Neteyam upset? Things were going fine and then he decided to throw a tantrum!”

“Because you kissed me!” Lo’ak howled, frustrated by how something so simple in his eyes was so oblivious to you. Fine, he’d spell it out for you, “You said no kissing. That was the boundary that you set. You’ve denied my brother’s attempts to cross that line for weeks now. You denied him again tonight even when he asked to kiss you, and then you suddenly decide after it all to kiss me?!”

Realisation flooded you at how your actions had appeared and you were quick to refute the misunderstanding, “No! It’s not what it looks like! I wanted to kiss both of you one last time. You just happened to be closest. I was facing you so I kissed you first! But I would’ve kissed Neteyam next!”

Lo’ak emitted a miserable groan and flopped onto his back, pressing the fingers of one hand into his eyes, “Fuck, you should’ve kissed my brother first.”

You groaned and your hands flew to your face again in distress, “Great Mother, what a mess. Tell him for me when you see him? Tell him I wasn’t doing it intentionally to spite him?”

Peering through your fingers, you saw Lo’ak fix you with an incredulous expression, “I won’t be telling him anything. You’re going to explain yourself to him and the both of you are going to talk. Properly. Honestly.”

“I’ll apologise and explain what happened, but there’s nothing else to talk about.”

With a scathing laugh, Lo’ak rounded on you again, “You know that’s such bullshit, Neyomi. I know you’re in love with him.”

It was the truth. You knew it within yourself, had known it for so long now, but to hear it called out so openly by Lo’ak was a shock to your psyche. It felt like his utterance of the words had willed it into a truth so solid that no matter how much you wanted to deny it to salvage what was left of your heart, you couldn’t.

“He told me what happened that night at the hot spring, about how you denied his affection and pushed him away after. That really cut him deep.” Lo’ak added, and his tone was woeful.

Bitterly, you moved to sit upright so you could look at Lo’ak square in the eyes. You glared at him, cursing the tears that pooled in your eyes and threatened the spill, “So, what? You want me to tell Neteyam how I feel. Apologise for pushing him away, pour out my soul, and break my heart over a man I can never have?”

Understanding washed over Lo’ak at your words. There it was. The reason that had prompted your sudden change in behaviour over the last couple of moons. He’d known it wasn’t because you’d had a change of heart. You were only trying to protect yourself. Lo’ak thought of his brother’s stubbornness then, of Kiri, and their grandmother’s approval of the proposed arrangement. He chuckled.

You frowned at Lo’ak’s quiet laughter, feeling indignant and wondering if he really was cruel enough to be laughing at you right now. You hissed harshly, “It’s not funny.”

“No, no! I’m not laughing at you. It’s just this whole situation could be so easily solved if you and Neteyam actually put your egos aside to talk.” Lo’ak quickly reassured and he shook his head at you mildly with a final huff of laughter, “If there was a chance you could be with my brother, would you take it?”

Your face was still pulled deep in a frown, but the points of your ears twitched in sceptical interest, “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”

Lo’ak licked his lips and ground his teeth together. It wasn’t his place to say. The arrangement was a formal one and until it was officially announced by the tsahìk, it was not to be spoken of. Clan formalities had to be observed by all and Neteyam had technically broken the rules by telling him about it.

“My grandmother is going to make a formal announcement to the clan tomorrow night at communal last meal.” Lo’ak said, and there was a particular note in his inflection that urged you to listen, that told you what he was telling you was significant, “If you truly care for my brother, you’ll speak to him afterward and you’ll tell him the truth of how you feel. Because he’s a stubborn skxawng who’s been stung one too many times now and the he won’t be honest with you unless you make the first move.”

***~~~***

You sat with Tula and some of the other female warriors, all gathered for last meal in the central gathering space of the village. You’d barely eaten anything all day and yet, as you stared at the assortment of stewed, roasted and fresh foods on your food mat, you didn’t feel even an ounce of hunger. Your anxiety had made sure of that.

It’d been a typical day of rest for the clan; families enjoyed each other’s company; friends spent time catching up over fun hobbies; children squealed and ran amok the village grounds, glad for a day off from lessons and chores. However, you’d been a tense knot of nerves all day awaiting the tsahìk’s impending proclamation.Ordinarily, you wouldn’t have been bothered. The tsahìk made all sorts of announcements all the time, but tonight’s announcement would supposedly be bringing you an opportunity, or so Lo’ak had assured.

You’d sought Tula out first thing in the morning, brimming with emotion and nerves after the mishap at the shack last night. The olo’eyktan’s family had passed you at communal breakfast and while Lo’ak had graced you with a genial grin, Neteyam had avoided acknowledging you entirely. Everything came to a head at that point.

You’d told Tula everything then about how Kai had ended things, how you’d confronted Neteyam at the shack and what came after. You’d cried in her arms over how you’d inadvertently slighted Neteyam and told her of what Lo’ak was urging you to do. To your surprise, Tula had sided with Lo’ak’s view on things.

What followed was a day of forced, but blessed pampering from your best friend. Tula had taken you down to the bathing springs, where she’d treated you to one of her wonderful back rubs with sweet oils, before she helped you to undo your tightly braided hair for washing. She had cooed and clucked over you, slathering you in all sorts of balms and creams that would help reduce the puffiness of your eyes, relax you and smoothen your skin.

Your hair fell loosely around your ears and shoulders now, luscious and silky from Tula’s various herbal conditioning treatments. Your skin felt smooth like baby’s bottom and she’d dowsed you in a scented oil to help promote calmness. She’d plucked several sun lily blooms from their stems on the walk back to the village and threaded them through your locks, remarking with a flourish that the vivid indigo hue of the flowers set off the rest of your more casual look perfectly.

“You’re quiet this evening, Neyomi. You look beautiful by the way.” Silwey observed, smiling at you from across the gathered circle of women.

The other female warrior’s smile was polite and you forced as genuine a smile back at her in return. Silwey was beautiful too, very beautiful. She had the kind of classic beauty that all the old women harped on about. The kind of loveliness that would make most men drool and gawk.

“Thanks, Tula did a fantastic job on me, as always.” You replied, picking at a small morsel of meat and popping it into your mouth.

“Not that you don’t always look beautiful though, but there’s just something about today’s look that really flatters.” Another female, Kanoa, added brightly.

“Kai is a lucky man.” Silwey chortled. You nearly choked on your food.

Clearing your throat gently, you shrugged self-consciously at Silwey, “Ah, Kai and I aren’t seeing each other anymore.”

“Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise.”

“It’s alright. The split is fairly fresh, but it was mutual.”

Clearly feeling bad for catching you out on an awkward subject, Silwey attempted to cheer you up, “Well, whoever catches your eye next will be a very lucky man.”

The women all murmured in cheerful agreement. Even Tula, who was doing a great job of pretending that she was unaware of the real reason for your disquiet. You mustered up a kind smile at Silwey to reassure her you’d taken no offense. You wondered if she would’ve been as kind if she knew that the man who’d caught your eye was Neteyam…

Absently, you wondered if Neteyam had sought Silwey out on her own again in the weeks you’d stopped going to the shack. You were well aware of Silwey’s romantic interest in Neteyam, especially after her last bold proposition to him all those weeks ago on the very day that had led to your evening spent with Neteyam at the hot spring. The thought of him with Silwey pained you, and you forced the thought from your mind.

A chorus of soft hushing and murmurs rippled through the gathered Omatikaya then and you saw the tsahìk step up onto the raised platform by the bonfire. She raised her arms and the clan fell obediently into silence.

“Brothers and sisters! I thank you all for gathering this night, may Eywa bless us in our communion.” Mo’at called out, her voice carrying strongly over the crowd, “A proposal was brought to me for consideration not long ago, by our olo’eyktan, regarding the traditions our people have long held about how our clans are led. Tradition has always decreed that our peoples be led by a mated pair, olo’eyktan and tsahìk, unified and blessed in the eye of Eywa.”

Your heart was beginning to pound in your chest, impatient for the tsahìk to get to the crux of her proclamation.

Mo’at continued, “But in recent generations, this has not always been so. Indeed there are other clans where the leading pair are not mated to each other, instead leading their people through an agreed partnership. Even for us Omatikaya, things have changed with the coming and subsequent defeat of the Sky People.” She turned astute eyes at her family, at Jake and Neytiri in particular, “I have retained my position as tsahìk because my daughter chose a warrior’s path, while my son-in-law Jake leads us as chief. But I am getting old now.”

Muted murmurs of curiosity were rising within the crowd, all keen to hear what their tsahìk was about to say.

Mo’at raised her arms again and she gestured this time for two others to join her on the platform. Neteyam ascended at her beckoning closely followed by his sister, Kiri.

Mo’at smiled warmly at her two grandchildren, placing a hand on each of their heads in blessing before addressing the crowd again, “Our line of succession has not changed. Neteyam will still succeed his father as olo’eyktan in time to come. However, I have prayed to our Great Mother recently and she has shown me who is to walk the path of tsahìk after me. As many of you have experienced for yourselves, our Kiri is gifted and Eywa’s voice has whispered to her since she was barely more than a babe. Our Great Mother has chosen and Kiri will fulfil the role of tsahìk when my time comes to pass!”

A current of emotion washed through the clan, all susurrating and murmuring, some excitedly and others confusedly.

“Wait, what?” Kanoa breathed, “Kiri will lead with Neteyam?”

“Yes.” Silwey affirmed, “She will be tsahìk and Neteyam will be olo’eyktan alongside her.”

Mo’at’s voice rang out again and she continued, “I hereby declare Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk’itan and Kiri te Suli Kireysi’ite our Omatikaya successors! They will choose their own respective mates, but they will lead this clan in time, brother and sister in partnership!”

Neteyam and Kiri clasped hold of each other hands then and they raised their arms in affirmation of their partnership before the people. The Omatikaya roared their approval, clapping, howling and ululating their joy.

They will choose their own respective mates… Mo’at’s words rang in your ears amidst the din the clan was making around you. Tula clutched at one of your knees, beaming at you happily at what the proclamation meant for you: A chance to love, truly and freely.

Your gaze drifted to the rest of the Sully family standing by the foot of the platform. You caught Lo’ak’s eye and he smirked at you, his eyes twinkling with meaning. This was what he’d meant last night. You recalled his question to you: If there was a chance you could be with my brother, would you take it?

You knew your answer: Absolutely.

The thrilled yammering of the warrior women around you brought you back to the present.

“So he can choose any woman he wants now. Not necessarily one of the healer women.” Kanoa’s voice was an energised whisper and she giggled girlishly at her words.

“Yup, sounds like it.” Another warrior, Neneka said, “Great Mother, have mercy on my soul for saying this, but I’d love to get under Neteyam, you know what I mean? He watches and plays around a bit at the old outpost, but he’s not as unreserved as Lo’ak is.”

You froze when you realised what the topic of the conversation had turned to among the women. Eywa, you didn’t want to hear about other women’s experiences with him…

“Yeah, he’s picky.” Kanoa sighed dreamily, “I bet he’s a generous lover though. Someone here is lucky enough to know.” She elbowed Silwey and burst into another fit of kittenish giggles.

“Hey, stop it. I’m not going to kiss and tell.” Silwey replied, laughing and swatting lightly at Kanoa. She pursed her lips sassily then and she gave a sly narrowing of her eyes, “But he’s an incredible time. That’s all I’ll say.”

The warrior women crowed with laughter at their gossipmongering and your food looked very interesting all of a sudden. You picked at the offerings on your food mat, eating a few mouthfuls and concentrating hard on the burst of savoury flavours on your tongue in a bid to drown out the awful conversation around you. You could feel Tula’s concerned eyes peering at you, but you kept to yourself.

“Well, I’m going to go and congratulate Kiri.” Tula pronounced, trying to change the subject. She pushed off her heels to stand, “Kiri is the one who’s been formally confirmed into her role tonight. It’s not all about Neteyam.”

“That’s true. Good idea.” Silwey agreed, rising to her feet along with the other women. She tittered boldly and then added, her tone brazen, “I’ll congratulate Kiri and then perhaps see if Neteyam would like some private company tonight too.”

The women snickered and began making their way towards the platform to offer Kiri their felicitations. You shook your head at the mob of them as they left. Eywa, the women were as bad as the men were with their egging and bragging of sexual conquests…

Tula lingered behind, staying with you. She crouched down next to you and reached out to squeeze your shoulder, “Don’t pay any attention to them. Eyes on the prize. You have a meaningful conversation that you need to have with Neteyam tonight. And it could change everything.”

“I know.” You sighed, looking over your shoulder where Kiri and Neteyam stood by the front of the platform, surrounded by a throng of well-wishers, “It’s just- I think I really hurt him last night.”

“There are two sides to every story. He’s not exactly been forthcoming with you either. You both need to just clear the air and get everything out in the open.”

“Thanks for everything today. Thanks for listening.” You shot Tula an appreciative smile, “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Tula’s answer was a smile and a wink, but her face twisted into an unimpressed grimace when she looked to the front of the platform again, “Better work fast, babe. Silwey’s got dessert on her mind tonight.”

Sure enough, you saw Silwey whispering into Neteyam’s ear when you cast another glance over your shoulder. It was now or never. You needed to get Neteyam alone and you were going to swallow your pride and tell him everything. Dusting your hands off, you rose to your feet, intent for the throng of people gathered at the front.

Politely excusing yourself as you stepped past families and groups of friends, you weaved through the crowd and passed the crackling bonfire on your way. You made for Kiri first, wanting to congratulate the other woman. You had never spoken much to Kiri, but you were acquaintances through her brothers. Being a warrior by profession meant that you had more to do work-wise with Neteyam and Lo’ak than with Kiri, who was of course a healer and spiritual leader by trade.

Finally making it to the newly appointed tsakarem (tsahìk in waiting), you greeted Kiri politely, making the appropriate gesture with your fingers splaying out from your forehead, “Oel ngati kameie, Kiri. Congratulations on your appointment. The clan rejoices and thanks you for your service.”

Kiri’s answering smile at your greeting was enigmatic, her large golden eyes bright and perceptive, “Ngati kameie nìteng (I see you also), Neyomi. Thank you for your kind words.”

You mused quietly to yourself that Kiri already seemed to have the piercing look of a tsahìk down perfectly. The other woman was unfazed as she openly eyed you from your face, down your torso and legs, and then back up to your face again. She cocked her head at you then, eyes in a slight squint, “The tsawksyul blooms are a nice touch in your hair. Beautiful.”

“Irayo (thank you).” You thanked her, realising awkwardly that you really didn’t know what else to say to Kiri. You were also wilting a little under her penetrating gaze, so you spluttered a parting blessing, “May Eywa bless you and keep you always.”

Kiri nodded, the short and wispy ends of her short hair swaying where they framed her lovely face. Her eyes flitted to Neteyam who stood several paces to her right, surrounded by what could only be described as a gaggle of fawning women. Your own eyes followed Kiri’s, taking immediate note of the fact that Silwey was closest to him and that she’d curled a covetous hand around one of his biceps, her side pressed against his.

“I expect you’ll want to get my brother’s attention now that his pool of choice has widened.” Kiri began, moving closer to you so she could speak into your ear, “Like the rest of these eager vultures.”

Her disdain was clear in her tone and you shifted uneasily on your feet. You shook your head to refute her statement, not wanting to be reduced or likened in any way to the notion of a shallow, insipid woman, lusting after a man of high standing.

“I do need to speak to Neteyam, but it’s important. An apology actually.” You replied, hoping your candour would prove your sincerity to his intimidating sister.

With one last cock of her head and a piercing stare that made you feel like she could see you inside and out, the warm smile that Kiri graced you with next was unexpected, “My brothers speak highly of you, as do the warriors in your platoon. Eywa ngahu (May Eywa be with you), Neyomi.”

You dipped your head in acknowledgement and Kiri’s attention was quickly pulled away by another clan member wishing to congratulate her. With a deep breath, you refocused on your objective.

Neteyam was speaking to four women, all smiles and laughter as they conversed. You managed to place yourself in a gap between two of them, just big enough for you to slip into without needing to push anyone. It placed you directly in his line of sight, but if you thought he was going to acknowledge you, even out of courtesy given there were others surrounding him, watching him, you were wrong.

Mild irritation flared in your gut and you continued to look at him, trying to catch his eye. However, Neteyam’s gaze studiously avoided yours while he spoke in turn to the others, even quirking a small smile at Silwey when she leant her cheek against his shoulder. Your distress was sharp behind your sternum at the sight, but you were determined.

You cleared your throat audibly, causing a lull in the conversation as the women turned to look at you. You seized the opportunity, “Excuse me. Neteyam, can I have a moment? I need to speak to you.”

Finally, for the first time that day, his amber orbs clashed with your own. There was no warmth in them though, no emotion. Just pure impassiveness that sent a dreadful shudder through you.

“If it’s about work, it can wait until tomorrow morning.” Neteyam’s response was clipped.

His icy demeanour was cutting. You’d expected him to be upset, but not like this, not cold and unfeeling. “It’s not work-related, but it’s important.”

“Sorry. I’ve got plans tonight.” More callous brusqueness.

This was an unexpected hurdle. You hadn’t anticipated his refusal to speak to you. You’d prepared for his upset and for his anger, but not for his complete and utter disregard. A painful lump was forming in your throat and you swallowed it down tightly.

Keeping a tight rein on the brewing storm of your emotions beneath the surface, you maintained your careful mask of composure and tried again, “Neteyam, please. I only need a few moments.”

“No, I’ll catch you another time.” It was a clear dismissal.

You weren’t going to beg, not in front of everyone. You would swallow your pride, but not to the extent of abandoning all of your dignity.

Silwey was frowning at you, puzzled displeasure colouring her features, and the other women appeared equally uncomfortable at the awkward exchange. The telltale hot flush of humiliation was beginning to tingle and burn on the skin of your face. You regarded Neteyam’s hard gaze one final time before you turned and excused yourself from the group.

The world around you became surreal, the noise of the gathered clan becoming a dull hum as you ambled on numb feet back the way you came. You could feel your composure beginning to fracture, the turbulent storm within you threatening to spill, and with the first breath that hitched painfully in your chest, you broke into a sprint in the direction of your home shelter.

You needed somewhere safe and away from prying eyes for the dam to burst… For the upheaval of your emotions to come pouring out…

Your eyes stung and your vision blurred with the uncontrollable arrival of your tears. An onslaught of sobs besieged you next and you tore the sun lily blooms from your hair as you ran, pawing at the wetness streaming from your eyes. Evidently what had happened last night at the shack had been the last straw for Neteyam. You cried at the unfairness of it all.

You finally had a chance, but now it seemed that Neteyam was unwilling to grant it to you…

Someone was calling your name, the thud of heavy footfalls catching up to you. You ignored their calls, pumping your legs harder to increase your speed.

A strong hand hooked around your elbow, slowing you with a jolt and you attempted to spiral away, “No! Leave me alone!”

Another hand clasped hold of your other arm and your pursuer spun you in their arms to face them. Your forearms collided with a muscled chest and for a split second your mind tricked you into believing that Neteyam had come after you, but as your blurry gaze lifted to the man’s face you recognised who it really was.

Wrong brother. Lo’ak.

Lo’ak’s expression was cross, but you knew his irritation was not directed at you as he shushed you softly, “Hey, it’s alright, sweet thing.” He gave you a brief but tight hug before pulling away and fixing you with determined eyes, “Listen to me, OK? You have to keep it together. Go to my family’s shelter and wait there. Let yourself in, no one is home. They’re all still eating.”

Only half paying attention, you stammered, “W-What? Why?”

“Because I’m sick of this back-and-forth! You and Neteyam are going to talk. Tonight.” Lo’ak pressed insistently. He squeezed your arms gently in reassurance, “Go wait in my family’s shelter. I’ll get my brother.”

“He’s got plans.” You had meant to sound unpleasant, had meant for your voice to be a grating rasp, but what came out was an unsteady warble of words.

A harsh scoff left Lo’ak and he was already turning to jog back towards the crowded throng, “Nope, trust me. He doesn’t. Not if I have anything to say about it. Go! And stay there!”

***~~~***

A cacophony of grunts, thuds and slaps filled the woodland air as the brothers brawled off the main village pathway behind some shrubbery.

Neteyam hadn’t appreciated Lo’ak’s brisk interruption just as he and Silwey had been making their way to a quieter spot for the evening. He’d refused his brother’s ‘urgent’ request to return home at first, until Silwey had sensed the quickly rising strain between the pair and had grudgingly excused herself with a plea for him to seek her out later once the ‘emergency’ had been resolved. Neteyam had known exactly what his brother was doing, had known that there wasn’t a ‘family emergency’ at all, since their entire family could still be seen enjoying their dessert of fruit by the bonfire.

Spiteful comments were exchanged, hissing taunts were made and in the end, it was Lo’ak who’d thrown the first punch out of frustration.

The pair of them tussled, no longer upright on their feet, but wrestling on the moss-covered ground instead. It was a violent tangle of arms and legs. Neteyam had almost succeeded in his attempt to pin Lo’ak, when his younger brother threw a stinging punch, his fist colliding painfully with his jaw. A wounded groan left him and Lo’ak seized the opportunity, rolling to flip his brother onto his back in a pin.

Neteyam’s eyes were scrunched closed and his face was contorted into a pained grimace. Their bodies were robust with strong bones and tough skin, but the pain was always sharp and the bruising would show.

“You done, bro?” Lo’ak snarled, spitting a build-up of saliva and blood on the ground to his side.

Breathing hard, Neteyam fought a throbbing jaw to crack open his eyelids.

Lo’ak could see his brother was still angry, but the vehemence of Neteyam’s ire had dissipated after their brawl. He felt his brother pat his thigh in a gesture of submission and he shifted his weight so Neteyam could sit upright. Lo’ak rose gingerly to his feet, his hip aching a little from a rapid roll that Neteyam had executed earlier. He extended a hand out to his older brother who took it, pulling himself to his feet.

Fisticuffs had never been a regular occurrence between them. Not even when they’d been young boys. Lo’ak had always excelled at being the problematic, troublesome younger brother, but Neteyam had kept hold of his maturity and patience most of the time. They’d only ever had a handful of fistfights in their lives and they’d all been over significant issues. And it was fair to say that tonight’s issue was significant.

“I won’t let you run from this.” Lo’ak declared, wiping the stray dribble of blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of a hand, “I’ve always been the stupid, reckless one, and you’ve always looked out for me. Well, I’m returning the favour. She’s worth it, bro.”

Reminded of the reason for their brawl in the first place, Neteyam gritted his teeth and closed his eyes with a deep exhale through his nose. He didn’t want to talk to you… He figured that you felt bad, that you wanted to apologise… but he was past simple apologies now… He didn’t want to face you if you were just going to seek forgiveness and then go back to your life without him…

“There’s nothing to be said. She’s made herself clear that she isn’t interested.” Neteyam muttered severely, massaging at his own tender jaw with cautious fingers.

“I’m fucking done hearing that from both of you!”

“And I’m fucking sick of saying it! She won’t kiss me but she’ll happily kiss you! Things are pretty damn clear to me!”

“That was a misunderstanding, and she’ll explain it herself if you let her! For once in your life, can you just trust me on this?!” Lo’ak exclaimed, exasperated, “I’m not the one being the skxawng ass right now! You and Neyomi have tiptoed around each other for weeks! So I’m staging an intervention. Forced discussion!” The blood continued to build-up in his mouth and he cursed again with another spit to his side. He’d taken an elbow in the teeth from his brother at some point and he was quite sure that one of his teeth had loosened.

“Sorry.” Neteyam mumbled somewhat contritely.

“It was a good move with your elbow, very fast.” Lo’ak conceded, huffing out a laugh. However, his face returned to its sombre expression then, “Maybe you and Neyomi will both find it in yourselves to apologise to one another tonight too.”

Neteyam’s only response was a bitter snort. He was aware Lo’ak had spoken to you last night after he’d fled the shack. His brother had been scant on the details this morning, but he’d insisted that what had happened was a misunderstanding and that he needed to speak to you. Still smarting from your denial the previous night, Neteyam had promptly let Lo’ak’s words in through one of his ears and out the other, not intending at all to follow through.

When Neteyam didn’t say anything more, Lo’ak inveigled him, “Look, she wants to talk and clear the air. You both have some serious shit you need to say to each other and I’m not going to keep playing messenger between you.”

An image of you from earlier in the evening flitted to the forefront of Neteyam’s mind. He saw you with your hair loose and un-braided, the long strands falling to frame your face and trailing to tickle your shoulders and upper back. You had three tsawksyul blooms threaded into your locks behind your ears. You’d looked so beautiful... The next image was of the wounded look on your face when he’d denied your request to speak him in a callous dismissal in front of the others. The hurt that flashed in your eyes had been plain to see, and it had felt good to know that he’d hurt you, that he’d given you a taste of your own medicine.

“Where is she?” Neteyam queried quietly.

“Back at our family’s shelter. I asked her to wait there.”

Moistening his lips, Neteyam took a deep breath and set off back towards the main village path. He felt rotten now for upsetting you. Yes, you’d hurt him, but it didn’t make things any better for him to have hurt you in retaliation.

“Bro,” Lo’ak called out, making Neteyam stop in his tracks, “Don’t make things so hard, OK? Be honest. Open up to her. You might be surprised at what you find.”

With a sideways glace at his brother, Neteyam nodded, “Yeah.”

***~~~***

You sat on your folded legs on the floor of a smaller alcove in the Sullys’ home, waiting anxiously to see if Lo’ak would succeed in his endeavour to persuade Neteyam to speak to you. It hadn’t been a very long while, but it had certainly been long enough that you were starting to worry that perhaps Neteyam had remained unyielding.

You’d let yourself into the Sullys’ home shelter like Lo’ak had instructed and you’d proceeded to drift about awkwardly as you took the space in. Their shelter was much bigger than the standard ones most families lived in. Perks of being the chief’s family, you supposed. It had a much more spacious living area and the alcoves branching off the main space, that served as each individual’s private area, were also bigger than usual.

Trinkets and decorations both of Na’vi and human origin adorned the shelter, speaking to the mixed heritage of the family. Tinkling wooden chimes hung from the joists that held the shelter up. Homely furniture and utensils were set about the space on thick woven rugs, and little paper images of the family (which you’d come to learn were called photographs) were displayed here and there.

You’d ambled about, quietly admiring the place but too nervous to touch anything out of respect. Your nose had led you to one of the alcoves in particular, Neteyam’s familiar scent wafting from it like an appealing perfume that called to every nerve and cell in your body. A sense of comfort had washed over you and you’d settled yourself on the floor rug in his alcove to continue your wait.

Everything about the alcove screamed Neteyam, from the neatly made bedding to the well-ordered layout. His elegant bow and weaponry were systematically arranged against one side, long knives, spears and daggers hanging from a sturdy looking frame. Tidy piles of fabric and clothing sat nestled in a wooden chest, and a small but ornate dresser sat on the far side with his personal jewellery and knick-knacks. Your own alcove looked like a haphazard hovel in comparison, but whenever your mother complained of the mess, you always maintained that you found comfort in your chaos.

As another wave of apprehension consumed you, you inhaled deeply through your nose and let your breath whistle out from between your lips. Your gaze fell to your clasped hands in your lap. You knew what you wanted to say. You’d rehearsed the words over and over in your mind the whole day. You just needed a chance to say them. A pang of hurt lanced through your chest at your recollection of Neteyam’s callous dismissal. You hoped that you’d get that chance tonight.

The draping flaps at the entrance of the shelter swished apart then and your head snapped upright with a gasp to see Neteyam enter the space. Another gasp left you when you took in the few purpling bruises on his ribs and jawline, visible even in the lambent glow of the firelight in the central hearth.

You were on your feet and marching up to him in an instant, concern in your voice, “What happened?” You raised a gentle hand to his face, wanting to examine his jaw, but he flinched away from your touch.

“Lo’ak said you were waiting here to talk. He was very persuasive with his fists.” Neteyam replied and his tone was harsh and tight.

Your lips settled into an unhappy line. Your gaze dropped to Neteyam’s clenched fists by his sides and you spotted the telltale cuts on his knuckles that indicated the fight certainly wasn’t one-sided. You felt another sharp pinprick of hurt that the brothers had gotten into a physical disagreement over your request to speak to Neteyam. Did he really loathe you that much now that he’d fought with Lo’ak over this?...

Neteyam stood motionless while he watched your various emotions flit across your face. He noted the absence of the sun lily blooms from your hair, noted the downturn of your ears, the stickiness of your cheeks and the shine around your eyes. You’d been crying... Guilty regret bloomed in his gut, but his pride was quick to quash it. He was hurt too, hurt by your previous denials. Tears may not have left his eyes but that didn’t mitigate the fact that you’d hurt him too with your rejections.

Your heart thumped in your chest, blood pounding in your ears as you watched Neteyam wait for you to say something. His gaze was cold and the impatient swish of his tail was telling.

Now, in the moment, with the chance you wanted presented to you, the words you’d repetitively rehearsed earlier seemed to have abandoned you entirely. Desperately trying to tamp down the panic that was rising, you heartened yourself. Now or never, Neyomi!

“I’m sorry.” The words were a sticky croak in your throat and you cleared it softly before continuing, “I didn’t mean for last night to end like it did. The truth is, I wanted to kiss you both one last time. Lo’ak just happened to be closest to me. I would’ve turned to you after.”

“Uh huh.” Neteyam’s response was sceptical and he felt his irritation beginning to rise. It was certainly a very convenient explanation on your part… You’d wanted to kiss him too? After all your rebuffs and refusals, he found it incredibly hard to believe.

You sensed his disbelief and you pressed your point further, “I’m not just saying that, I mean it. I didn’t do it to mock you or hurt you. I was so spaced out and I wasn’t really thinking things through. I’m sorry, really I am.”

“Yeah, OK. You’re forgiven.” Neteyam said with a shrug, feigning insouciance in a bid to disguise his hurt. He didn’t really forgive you. He felt far too wounded to excuse your actions so easily, but he was growing more and more uncomfortable in the thick tension that surrounded you both and he wanted out of there. If what you wanted was to apologise and seek his forgiveness then you’d done that. Conversation over. “If that’s all you needed to say then you’ll need to excuse me. Someone’s waiting for me.”

The nonchalance Neteyam was displaying made you feel equal parts sad and angry. Here you were being sincere, wanting to start an honest discussion and he wasn’t even trying. It felt as if he was here just so he could tell Lo’ak he’d spoken to you, when nothing about his manner or his words was genuine. Neteyam’s frame was already turned halfway away from you, his intention to leave clear.

Your annoyance spiked, emboldening you and you hissed, “No, I’m not done. Don’t walk away from me.” Especially not to run back into Silwey’s arms…

Pausing in his steps, Neteyam gritted his teeth and his injured jaw throbbed painfully. He turned to face you again with pinned ears and unimpressed eyes, “What else?”

He watched your as your breaths began to deepen and a frown marred your lovely face. You were so impossibly beautiful even when you were angry, and the thought only further infuriated him in that moment. Lo’ak’s words echoed in the recesses of his mind; be open, be honest. But what did his brother expect him to do? Pour his heart out to you? He’d done that once before the night of the hot spring, and you’d thrown his affection back in his face.

Your next words were uncanny, as if you had somehow read his thoughts.

“I’m sorry also for how I reacted that night at the hot spring.” You stated, making a conscious attempt to stop your irritation from colouring your expression. You wanted to appear sincere and you didn’t think an apology delivered with a scowl would achieve that. “It wasn’t my intention to hurt your feelings then either, and I’m sorry if I did.”

Neteyam wasn’t making the same effort though and his words were muttered through clenched teeth, “Again, you’re forgiven.”

Your tail hung low between your legs and you frowned at him, upset, “You’re just saying that. I’m trying to tell you that I’m genuinely sorry and you’re just going through the motions!”

The monster of his pain that Neteyam had spent the last couple of moons trying to restrain reared its ugly head in full force. He didn’t want your apologies. He wanted you. But just as he couldn’t force you to feel for him what he felt for you, your apologies couldn’t force his earnest forgiveness from him either.

“Well, a genuine apology doesn’t always earn genuine forgiveness, especially when forgiveness isn’t ready to be granted on the forgiver’s part!” Neteyam cried in a bitter shout. He saw you gulp and recoil slightly at his raised voice, but he’d uncorked the bottle of his tumultuous emotions now and after being pent up for so long, his words poured from him in an inexorable stream, “Do you know what it’s like to want someone, to be around them every day, to be so close to them and know what their body feels like, tastes like, and yet have to live with the fact that they don’t want you the same way?! You know, if all you wanted from me was the pleasure of my body, then so be it! I’ll accept that and I’ll get over my feelings in time. But don’t expect me to forgive you now when I’m not ready to do that!”

His shouting startled you at first, but you were quick to recover. He wasn’t the only one who could be loud.

“It’s not just your body I want!” You shrieked in return, and it was Neteyam’s turn to wince. You advanced on him and he took a few steps back as you gained on him until he was backed against one of the shelter’s support beams. “And yes, I know exactly what it’s like to want someone and feel like you can’t have them because that’s how I’ve been feeling too, you skxawng!”

You were so close to Neteyam now that your chin was tilted up defiantly while you held his gaze. He was glaring down at you in return, his broad chest heaving with his own resentment. You were both reeling from each other’s words, both your brains working frantically to process the situation. However, rationality was hard to find when emotions were running high, especially when what felt good in the moment was to spew blame and point fingers.

“Why didn’t you tell me about the tsahìk’s arrangement with Kiri?” You demanded hotly.

“What difference would it have made?” Neteyam snarled, “Besides, you avoided me for weeks! You were impossible to get hold of and then you went and started fucking Kai!”

“It would’ve made all the difference!” You screeched, “And don’t bring Kai into this! I never put any restrictions on you or Lo’ak while our agreement was in place. I never stopped either of you from carrying on with your other play nights with the other women!”

“I haven’t been with anyone else since you! Despite everything, all I want is you!”

“Me too!”

Both his words and yours were shouted and the sound reverberated in the hollow confines of the shelter. You sagged as if suddenly tired from the emotional tirade of the last while, and you saw the remnants of Neteyam’s ire gradually seep from his own furious expression. The truth of the situation struck you both with such stark clarity that it stunned you both into deafening silence.

Neteyam was the first to break the silence. He gave a slow shake of his head and he closed his eyes, trying to make sense of it all, “Wait, what? So why did you pull away that night at the spring? And then you avoided me and stopped coming to the shack when you start seeing Kai.”

“Because I was scared.” You murmured, and the memory of your sleepless nights filled with heartsick despair brought unbidden tears to your eyes. You blinked wet eyes up at him and your tears escaped at the action.

Neteyam hated the sight of your tears, especially now that he was the cause of them. He sighed wearily. Tenderness swelled in his chest and he cupped one of your cheeks with a gentle hand, smoothing away the rolling bead of moisture with his thumb. His deep voice was soft and gentle when he spoke, a direct contrast to his harsh bellows from before, “Scared of what?”

“Of falling for you.” You gave a wet laugh and continued your explanation, “You will be olo’eyktan of this clan one day. By tradition your mate must be worthy of being tsahìk. That was never going to be me. I ran because I was in too deep already. I wanted to keep what I had left of my heart, but I realised after that it was too late anyway.”

Neteyam stifled a curse under his breath. The arrangement of Kiri becoming tsakarem hadn’t been confirmed yet at the time. His grandmother had still been deliberating and praying about it when the night at the hot spring had occurred, but the decision had been made not long after. Perhaps if he hadn’t been so wounded by your actions, if he’d listened to his brother and been more persistent in getting hold of you, this current situation may not have spiralled so out of hand.

“Fuck, I should’ve said something.” Neteyam lamented with a groan, tilting his chin down to rest his forehead against yours, “I was just so convinced that you didn’t feel the same way and that telling you would just result in another rebuff. Especially since you still came to the shack to play for but refused to kiss me.”

“I wanted to, so much.” You whispered with a sniffle, your nose brushing his lightly, “I tried with Kai, but there was no spark there. All I could think about was you. How could I not want all of you? You’re everything I want. I wanted to protect my heart but it broke anyway trying to stay away from you.”

Your words ended in a mewling sob and Neteyam enveloped you in his arms, crushing you to him. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, the comforting warmth of his body only seeming to make you cry harder.

“Shhh, I’m sorry too.” Neteyam soothed, running a large hand up and down your back while the other cupped your head against him, “I’ve been a fool and I’m so sorry.”

Remorse and shame flooded him as he reflected now on the past while. Hindsight was always 20/20. Great Mother, you’d both been so stupid... You’d both been on the same trajectory all along, except you hadn’t seen a conceivable way forward and while he had, knowing of the arrangement with Kiri, your fear and your avoidant behaviour had caused him to misunderstand and unwittingly hide the solution from you.

He pressed a kiss to your temple, loosening his hold when he felt you shift to peer up at him.

Dabbing at your nose and eyes with the back of your hand, you apologised for your appearance, “Sorry, I probably look a mess.”

Neteyam emitted a scoff and graced you with a warm smile. His hands framed your face, thumbs caressing your cheeks, “No, you’re beautiful even when you cry, paskalin. I’ll claim that kiss that you owe me now, if that’s alright?”

With a giggle, you agreed.

Sliding your palms up his chest to wind your arms around his neck, you pushed up onto the balls of your feet to meet his lips in a smooth and plush meld. It was different to how you’d imagined it would be last night, in your dazed state of overstimulation and arousal. When you’d decided on sharing one last kiss with Neteyam and Lo’ak, you’d been dejected and you’d expected the kiss to be filled with an air of sad finality. But your kiss with Neteyam now burned bright with hope and promise.

Pulling away gently, Neteyam’s smile was wide and you could see your own happiness mirrored in his golden orbs. He nuzzled your cheek affectionately, rubbing his cheek along yours while you did the same. You felt lighter than you had in a long time, the blooming warmth of your joy radiating from your heart out towards your limbs and extremities. After so many miserable nights and awkward days, the relief and thrill of knowing that feelings were requited on both sides was wonderful.

Neteyam pressed a chaste kiss to your lips and he declared, “I want to court you, openly. I want every man and woman in this clan to know that you and I are seeing each other. No one else, no more shack visits with Lo’ak.”

You couldn’t help the beaming grin that danced across your cheeks, and you chased his lips with your own as you spoke, “Yes, I accept, and it wasn’t Lo’ak that I came to the shack for.”

You felt Neteyam’s strong arms embrace you again while his lips and tongue danced passionately with yours. When you felt his large hands move to your upper thighs to hoist you against him, you instinctively twined your legs around his slender waist, locking your ankles behind him. He manoeuvred both of you into his alcove, messily pulling the cloth drapes at its entrance closed to cocoon you both in the privacy of the space.

Lowering you gently onto the softness of his bed, you moaned quietly with delight at how everything smelled of him. The heavy weight of him settled beside you and he stretched out alongside the length of your body. You both turned to lie on your sides, facing each other. It was darker in the alcove with no lamps lit in the space, the only source of light being the glow of the main fire behind the draping cloths at the alcove entrance. But Na’vi eyes acclimatised quickly and soon you could clearly make out the contours of Neteyam’s handsome face.

Your eyes trailed his form slowly from head to toe, following the vividly glimmering constellations of his tanhì (bioluminescent freckles) on his face, down his chest, abdomen and his legs. You were unhurried as you drunk in the sight of him and he appeared to be doing the same, his eyes performing a similar trek over your own body. Eywa, he was so gorgeous… His body was just perfect, every defined muscle encased in warm, smooth skin that smelled of masculine virility.

You reached out to trail your fingers over his ribs and his toned abdominals, relishing the shudder you earned from him as your fingertips traced the sensitive skin of his hip.

One of his hands stroked across your cheek and he leaned in to kiss you gently, whispering a beloved declaration against your lips, “I love you.”

Your lips stretched wide and he felt your smile against him, “I love you too.”

“Shall I show you just how much?” Neteyam’s voice was a mischievous rasp.

You tittered and sighed desirously, “Yes, make love to me, you stubborn man.”

A dark chuckle from him, “You’re going to have to be quiet here though. Think you can do that?”

You nodded soundlessly, eagerly reaching to undo the ties of your chest covering and flinging it aside to bare your breasts to him. Neteyam’s groan was almost inaudible, but you felt the rumbling growl of it with how close you were to him. His hands were immediately on your breasts, the heat of his palms searing against your soft mounds. He kneaded your breasts, thumbs stroking sensually over your incredibly sensitive nipples that hardened under his attentions. The sensation made liquid heat pool between your thighs.

Your hands made quick work of your loincloth and the fabric was flung to join your top. You felt one of his hands snake around your hip to pull you closer to him, front to front, and when his legs tangled with yours you noticed he was bare against you too, devoid of his own loincloth. You smoothed a hand over his strapping chest, fingertips testing the hard muscle there before your hand meandered towards his neck and you clutched his head towards yours.

You kissed him languidly, tasting him and smelling him, marvelling that you could love him now, truly. No more pretending. No more holding back. After so long without his lips against yours, you could quite honestly say that if the pair of you did nothing but kiss all night, you’d still wake up satisfied.

Neteyam pulled back from the kiss then and you whimpered in complaint, but he hushed you with a thumb against your lips. He murmured to you, “Shh, I love you here,” He pressed a kiss to your forehead, “Here,” A kiss to each of your eyes, “Here,” A kiss on your nose… And on he continued downward, your shoulders, a suckling kiss to each nipple, over your heart, your navel…

You lost count after that, just getting lost in the amorous bliss of his lips paying worship to every inch of your bare skin down to your toes. He didn’t disappoint though and when he parted your thighs to settle himself between your legs, and licked a full stripe from your pussy up to your clit, you jerked with a stifled cry.

“I love you especially here.” Neteyam growled. His mouth got to work, licking and suckling at your soon throbbing core while you watched him through hooded eyes.

His golden eyes locked with yours and the intensity of his gaze made your pussy clench, pouring with slick. Your fingers played absently with his beaded braids while your hips rocked against the moist paradise of his mouth. Your eyes could barely stay open as you enjoyed the building pleasure.

Something slid down one of your thighs then and you cracked open an eyelid just in time to see Neteyam trail the thick braid of his kuru (neural queue) over your hip towards you. It was a very intimate thing, to touch another’s kuru. The intimacy of the action was surpassed only by the making of tsaheylu between two people, but Neteyam’s invitation to you to touch his was clear.

Slowly, you reached for the meticulously braided length with one hand, gently running your fingers over the smooth hair around it. Neteyam let out a small sigh that puffed against your core and he closed his eyes, enjoying your caress. You trailed your hand closer towards the end of his queue where you knew the delicate pink tendrils of it were housed. Tenderly, your fingers delved past the ends of the hair around the sheath and a sharp jolt of pleasure raced through you as the tendrils enveloped your fingers.

Neteyam whimpered, his lips and tongue ceasing their work momentarily as pleasure shot down his queue and straight to his stiff cock which gave an excited spurt of pre-cum. It was new sensation to him and a thoroughly erotic one. He couldn’t describe it, but as your fingers played with the tendrils, it was almost as if he could feel your fingers touching him at every single erogenous zone simultaneously. He resumed his feasting of your core, tongue lapping at your slick folds that only seemed to moisten further with each lap of his tongue.

His name was a whispered sigh on your lips as your clit pulsated and your inner walls squeezed. The addition of a couple of his fingers came next and he sealed his lips over your nub to suck intently at it. The tendrils of his kuru fizzled pleasantly in and around your fingers. You didn’t know what made you do it, instinct perhaps, but you brought it up towards one of your breasts then, letting the squirming tendrils attach and wrap themselves around your areola and nipple.

The pleasure was instantaneous and Neteyam’s groan against your flesh told you he felt it too. A wave of ecstasy flushed through you from your nipples to your core, throwing you into the inescapable clutches of an orgasm. Mindful of your surroundings, your mouth formed a silent ‘o’ and your fingers twisted in his hair while you writhed in bliss. Neteyam’s hand gripped onto the flesh of your hips, keeping you still enough so he could continue to drink from your core.

Your desire burned feverishly within you despite the shattering climax you’d just experienced and you were impatient to have more of him against you. Tugging at his braids to get his attention, Neteyam lifted his face, licking his lips while his cheeks glistened with the evidence of your arousal. His expression was almost feral as he crawled up your body on all fours, and you spied his straining erection, watching it bob as he made his way up to you.

You shot him a slow smile as he settled himself alongside you again and the mess on his face didn’t deter you from kissing him. You murmured, “Thank you.”

“I’m enchanted by you, paskalin. I’ll do anything you ask for as long as I live.”

A hot blush stained your cheeks at his romantic words and you didn’t know whether to kiss him again or hide your face. You saw him look at the end of his kuru where it remained attached to your breast and you urged him, “Leave it. This might sound strange, but it’s as though I can feel you better. And it feels good.”

Neteyam smirked at you and nodded in agreement, “What would you like now? I’m impatient to have you though.”

His shifted his hips, his drooling erection slipping against your lower belly. You chortled softly at him and you took pity on his aching flesh, reaching down with a hand to greet his cock with a familiar stroke. A loud grunt left Neteyam and you hushed him, ears twitching and listening to the surroundings of the shelter. No one had returned yet, you were quite sure, the both of you would’ve heard them. Though it paid to be cautious.

Getting caught in a compromising position with the olo’eyktan’s son in the olo’eyktan’s home was not a misdemeanour you wanted against your record.

You continued your teasing stroke and squeeze of his cock, revelling in the sound of Neteyam’s strained panting by your ear. You paused by the swollen tip, running your thumb back and forth over his frenulum, which drew a very vulgar curse from him. His free hand was stimulating your other nipple while the tendrils of his kuru undulated over your other. The stimulation made your pussy ache and your clit throb longingly and you rubbed your thighs together to try and ease the pressure.

“Let me help you with that. You know I can fill you up so good.” Neteyam purred, thrusting his hips so his cock slipped faster in the grasp of your hand as if to press his point.

You smirked at him and licked sensuously over his parted lips with your tongue, “No, I think I’ll tease you a bit more for being so mean to me earlier. Besides, I want to try something.”

Your introduction to Neteyam’s neural queue made you eager to return the favour. Reaching behind you with your other hand, you brought your kuru over your shoulder and carefully held its end out between you, the twisting pink tendrils greeting Neteyam with their rippling dance. Already breathing heavily from the pleasure you were giving his cock, he lifted his hand to meet your tendrils, and both of you gasped as they twined around his fingers.

The sensation was unlike anything you’d ever experienced. Heat flushed over your skin and you prickled everywhere that you were sensitive; your nipples hardened and your pussy gushed with more slick. An unbidden erotic image came to you of your kuru’s tendrils wrapped around Neteyam’s cock and you shivered with delight at the thought.

Gently pulling your kuru from Neteyam’s fingers, you gradually inched it down towards his midsection, wanting to make the image your brain had supplied a reality. You watched him for any sign of discomfort or uncertainty, but his pupils were blown so wide with arousal you could hardly see the gold of his irises, and he looked on with as much eager anticipation as you did. Releasing his cock where you held it in your right hand, you brought left hand with your kuru towards it. The tendrils eagerly wrapped around their new target, coiling around the head and upper shaft.

You felt Neteyam’s body lurch at the same time that a wave of immense gratification shot through your neural queue to your own core.

“Fuck, Neyomi.” Neteyam keened and you saw his cock pulse, emitting a viscous string of pre-cum. It continued to throb and you swore your clit was throbbing in time with it.

Neteyam groaned aloud again, evidently struggling to keep to his own rule of being quiet. You rolled onto you back, pulling him atop you and silencing him with a deep kiss. You drowned in the moist heat of his mouth, lips and tongues waltzing in-between the twist and turn of your heads. He was rocking his hips against yours, his cock trapped between your bodies while your kuru still remained coiled around his sensitive flesh.

He broke away from the kiss with a sharp hiss of pleasure, “Wiya (damn), I’m going to cum like this if I can’t have you soon.”

“Yeah? Does that feel good?”

“Too good. Please, I need you.” Neteyam pleaded with a whimper, and he continued to ramble, “I know you must be aching for me. Let me make you squirt on my cock. You must have missed that right? All those weeks you didn’t come to the shack.”

You paused. It was true, you had missed him and missed his body, but you’d technically managed to squirt too with the dildo you’d poached from the shack…

When you didn’t answer, Neteyam stilled in his movements and he turned questioning eyes at you, “What is it?”

You bit your lip sheepishly, wondering if you should fib your way out of the situation or tell him the truth and make him feel a little less special. You didn’t want to start your new relationship off with a lie, so you resolved to be truthful, “I did manage to squirt whilst I wasn’t with you.”

His eyes widened and he looked rather taken aback.

“N-Not with someone else!” You quickly amended, “I pinched one of the toys from the shack a while ago when you and Lo’ak weren’t looking. It ah- It does the trick.”

Neteyam’s face suddenly morphed into a very smug smile and he leaned down to nibble at the point of your ear while he drawled, “Oh the dildo. We wondered where it had gone. Did you enjoy it, you little snitch?”

You shivered against him and rubbed your cheek against his, “Yeah, so your cock’s not the only one that can make me squirt. Sorry.”

Neteyam’s answering chuckle was deep and self-assured, “Don’t be. I’m not sorry about that.”

Confusion coloured your face and you pulled your head back to look at him, “You’re not?”

Neteyam’s expression was still incredibly conceited when he shook his head. He reached down and gently removed your kuru from his cock, keeping hold of it still though and letting its tendrils find purchase amongst his fingers instead. Sliding his knee between your thighs, he urged your to part your legs for him, which you did without hesitation. Balancing over you on his forearms, he settled his hips against yours and began a tantalising rub of his cock against your folds. You moaned with want and hooked your ankles behind his lower back.

“Why would I be upset about you squirting on that dildo,” He taunted huskily, “When that dildo was made from a mould of my cock?” His last words were punctuated with a sharp thrust of his hips, his long length penetrating you suddenly and fully to the hilt.

You threw your head back against the bedding with a guttural cry, uncaring at that moment if anyone heard you. Well that explained a lot about why that dildo had felt so good inside you… You didn’t have time to ponder on that thought. You clutched at Neteyam’s body, arms wrapped tight around his torso, your legs locked around his hips as he settled into a rhythm of rocking thrusts.

“You’re mine, paskalin.” Neteyam vowed and his lips found yours again in an all-consuming meld that set your heart and soul alight with elation.

You couldn’t get enough of him. He was all around you, over you, in you, and yet you still felt like you needed him to be closer. Your fronts were pressed to each other’s and your tails were twined; if you died like this you knew you would die the happiest you’d ever been. Your mouths remained fused, pausing only for short intakes of breath before finding each other again.

Neteyam’s thrusts were slow, but they were deep and you could feel every last ridge and outline of his cock inside you. The depth of his movements was delicious and the intense and pulsing throbs of your pelvic muscles signalled an impressive climax on the horizon for you.

Neteyam broke away from your kiss, tucking his face into the side of your neck to stifle his own reflexive moans of enjoyment. You knew he was close too from the shudder of his torso with each of his thrusts, and you could somehow feel his pleasure too, from his kuru at your breast and your kuru within his grasp.

Great Mother, you could only imagine how breathtaking it would feel when two people mated and made tsaheylu…

The winding spiral of pleasure twisted tighter and tighter in your lower belly, and your fingernails scored Neteyam’s back whilst you teetered on the brink of oblivion. You felt suspended in time, the only sounds you could hear were the pounding of your hearts and Neteyam’s harsh groans as he too hovered on the edge. He lifted his head and his gaze locked with your own, each of your pleasure-filled reflections mirrored in the dark pupils of each other’s eyes.

It was the only reflection you ever wanted to see in his eyes, your own face staring back at you. You never wanted to be without Neteyam again and as your heart shattered with the depth of your love for him, so did your core. Your climax swept through you like a tidal wave, your pussy clenching down and pulsing rhythmically as the wetness of your squirt gushed between your bodies. Your face twisted into what you hoped was a silent scream while the pleasure consumed you.

The squeeze and clench of your walls around his cock, as always, was nirvana for Neteyam. His entire frame tensed and went rigid, and he gritted his teeth hard to keep himself from shouting out his pleasure as he ejaculated. Your body milked him for every drop he had and your pussy continued to flutter around his swollen length pleasurably.

“Neteyam… Neteyam…” You whispered his name in a blissful chant and though your arms and legs shook from exertion, you kept them wrapped about him, not wanting to let him go. You mewled in complaint when he tried to roll his weight off you, so he deftly rolled you both so you could lie on top of him, still intimately joined.

Neteyam clasped you to him, on arm draped over your back while his other hand made soothing strokes over your hair. He could feel your breaths puffing gently into the crook of his neck where your cheek rested against his collarbone. His kuru and yourshad detached at some point and they trailed alongside your bodies, but it took nothing away from the intimacy you were both still wrapped up in.

“By Eywa, you’re it for me, you know that?” Neteyam affirmed with a hoarse chuckle, “Without a doubt. I’ll never look at another woman again.”

Your heart soared at his words and you knew, if you could see yourself, that your tanhì would be glowing bright with your immeasurable joy and contentment, “I guess we’re both ruined for each other then.”

“Will you be mine, formally? Will you accept this offer of betrothal?”

You gasped softly at his request. Your heart screamed your answer, affirmative without any hesitation, but the cogs in your mind began to turn. His betrothal request was unexpected. You’d agreed earlier to be courted openly by him, but a betrothal was serious. It was an engagement to be mated for life and while your heart danced for joy, your conscience questioned, not his fit for you as a mate, but your fit for him as mate to the olo’eyktan.

“Neyomi?” Neteyam queried quietly at your silence. His apprehension was clear in his tone.

You raised your head to regard him, blinking wide eyes at him, “I want to accept, but what if I turn out to be wrong for you? What if I’m not fit to stand by your side as wife to the olo’eyktan?”

He laughed at you then, relief sweeping over his face when he realised why you were hesitating, “You stand by my side every day already, paskalin. You’re my second-in-command and you’ve partnered with me, challenged me where I needed to be, and supported me for years. You already hold the position without the formal title.”

Tears sprang to your eyes as your emotions began to gain the upper hand. You murmured wetly, “You really want me like that? Forever?”

Neteyam craned his head upward to brush his lips against yours, “I want you every way that I can have you. As my second-in-command, my wife, mother of my children…”

His words trailed off, interrupted by you as you pulled him against you to claim his lips in another searing kiss, “Yes! I accept.”

There was commotion then in the main space of the family’s shelter. Hushed whispers and soft chatter sounded, indicating the return home of the other Sullys.

A very loud and contrived coughing fit sounded from Lo’ak, who cleared his throat dramatically several times, apologising repeatedly for his noisy fuss. You and Neteyam grinned at each other in the darkness, chortling to yourselves, knowing full well that Lo’ak was wanting to ensure the both of you knew that you were no longer alone.

You settled your head against Neteyam’s chest again, closing drowsy eyes and basking in the afterglow.

Neteyam murmured a bedtime prayer and pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, “Sleep, my love and I’ll rise to kiss you again in the morning.”

***~~~***

You were awoken by the sound of soft knocking against wood and a feminine voice calling out gently.

Neteyam stirred beneath you, his shoulder shifting beneath your cheek. You’d slept pressed against each other the entire night and were it not for the corporeality of the situation currently, you would’ve sworn it was all just a wonderful dream.

More knocking sounded and you were grateful to see the cloth drapes at the alcove entrance remained shut. Neither of you was decent yet.

The feminine voice called again and you recognised it to be Kiri’s, “Good morning, you two. The day has long begun.”

Part of you sighed in relief. Better Kiri than Neytiri. Great Mother, you didn’t want to face Neteyam’s mother right now after a sensual night with him, under their roof…

Neteyam’s smile was debonair and he blinked sleepy eyes at you. You squinted back at him, the harsh daylight outside obvious even in the confines of the shelter. You startled with a gasp. Daylight! By Eywa, what was the time?!

Scrambling for your clothing, you smacked Neteyam’s thigh, “Neteyam! The hunters! We’ve got patrol this morning!”

Kiri’s laughter sounded like a charming peal of shell chimes from behind the drapes, “Mm yes, I daresay it caused quite the stir when both the commander of the warriors and his second-in-command didn’t turn up for work today.”

A long and grumbled curse hissed out from Neteyam as he pressed the fingers of one hand into his eyes.

Kiri was quick to chastise, clucking her tongue in reprimand, “Language, brother. Besides, there’s no need to fret. Dad and Lo’ak stepped in to lead today’s patrol. There isn’t any urgency for you.”

Dressing quickly nonetheless, you shared a chaste kiss with Neteyam before he drew back the alcove drapes. Kiri stood with her arms folded, looking mighty amused as her eyes flitted sagaciously between the pair of you.

Kiri’s shrewd eyes took in your form, trailing you from head to toe again, but there was a teasing glint in them when she spoke, “That was some apology you had for my brother.”

Flushing a deep shade of violet, you greeted the young woman meekly, “Good morning, Kiri.”

“Where’s Mum?” Neteyam asked, glancing around the empty shelter with nervous eyes. He threaded his fingers through yours to hold your hand. His mother wouldn’t have been pleased by what the both of you had done. Yes, you were both grown adults and intimacy was not frowned upon amongst the people, but there was a certain respect that one had to have for their parents’ home.

Kiri giggled again with a polite hand over her mouth, “She’s out. She left early this morning to help Grandmother gather some herbs.” She snorted when she saw Neteyam visibly relax, and she couldn’t help but take another jab at him, amused by his discomfiture, “Oh don’t worry, Mum definitely wanted to throw you both out earlier this morning, but I think the Great Mother had something to say about that.”

You frowned, not understanding Kiri’s meaning. Neteyam’s ears too pricked in curious interest and he cocked a questioning head at his sister, “What do you mean?”

Kiri padded to the main archway of the family shelter and she pulled one half of the entry cloths aside, motioning with her head for both of you to step outside, “Come see for yourself.”

Following along a little behind Neteyam, the warmth of daylight greeted your skin as you both stepped out into the open. You heard Neteyam suck in a breath and halt in his steps. Blinking against the intense daylight, your eyes took a few moments to acclimatise. However, when they finally did and you took in the spectacle before you, you gave a loud gasp of surprise.

All around the Sullys’ family shelter, littering the ground and hovering about the structure, were dozens of atokirina (seeds of the sacred tree). The feathery seeds undulated about the place, sprinkling the shelter in a dusting of blessed white.

Kiri stepped out after the both of you, grinning, “Evidently Eywa thought all was right with the world.”

You felt Neteyam pull you to his side and he nuzzled your cheek tenderly. Your answering smile was bright and you placed a shy kiss on his shoulder.

“Do I need to tell Grandmother to make another formal announcement?” Kiri asked, smirking at the tender display of affection between you.

Neteyam’s beamed at his sister and his response was full of affectionate confidence, “Yes. Neyomi and I are both spoken for. We’re betrothed.”

And all was right with the world indeed…

Epilogue - Silwey's Reaction HERE

***~~~***

Author's Note: The end! THANK YOU again to all of you wonderful folks for your awesome support. I absolutely love interacting with everyone and it's because of you that this series became a reality. It was only ever meant to be a oneshot! I hope that you've relished Neteyam & Neyomi's (reader) journey to love. Let me know your thoughts, scream to me in the comments! Reblogs, likes & comments are always very appreciated. 😘

Tag list: @teymars @eyweveng @leaveitbythewave @luvteyams @akiras-key @bajbr @qcswrites @reggiesslut @neteluvr @savvysscandles @dasaniix @emery-333 @vintaqestar @live-laugh-neteyam @itssomeonereading @strawberry-vamp0 @delacruzyari @bluecooki3 @aalex561-blog @frustrated-kitten @innercreationflower @wolf12thsworld @wheneclipsefalls @iameatingmyhair @ele-sme @investedreader @oasiswithmyg @daeneeryss @pandorxxx @anonka01 @hunbomb @pandoraslxna @adrianarose7 @sunghoonmyluv @notnat02 @getthisoverwith33 @simp4myself @spicymayyo @animehoe1-800 @daddysmurfslefttoenail @iman-lu @creepytoes88 @flyingspacewhale @neteyamswifesworld @lostress101 @nilsavatar @cloudyw1ndzz @itsjazzsworld @solemnlover @asweetblueberry2 @blue-slxt

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omgthatdress · 4 months ago

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Sorry if it's a stupid question, but I thought you'd be best to answer it. Why was Coco Chanel's "Little Black Dress" so special? I've been going though your early 1900s tags and knee-length dresses existed way before Coco. Black dresses too. Knee-length black dresses too. What was so special about Chanel? I'd argue that Paul Poiret had a much bigger influence on fashion, with some of his looks being 1920s back in 1910s. So why Chanel became so big? Is it all down to business?

It's historical context. One of the biggest things about appreciating fashion history is being able to put it all in context.

Although black dresses were popular evening wear throughout the Victorian and Edwardian era, the dresses of that era were still over-the-top and extremely fancy. The dress was designed by a couturier, House of Worth being the most influential and popular, silk had to be imported and woven, the beading and embroidery and other details hand-crafted by métiers, and then all assembled by seamstresses in the atelier.

Poiret started out with this notion of radically simplifying fashion. His robe de minute was a sort of proto-flapper dress, and it got its name because it only had two seams and could be sewn up in a minute. In spite of this, Poiret couldn't fully escape Edwardian ostentatiousness, and frequently used exotic silks and fancy detailing, still seeing his designs as works of art. His primary supporters were still the titled nobility of old Europe

World War 1 had everything to do with simplifying fashion. Well, that and the Russian Revolution the collapse of the Hohenzollerns and Austrian Habsburgs and the general collapse of the old aristocracy. Couture houses were forced to close, and Poiret was made to serve as a tailor for the French army. When he re-opened his house, he re-opened to a new world.

Chanel viewed clothes through a much more practical lens, rather than as works of art. She made menswear-inspired clothing with clean lines and few accessories, which was much more in line with the new, liberated woman of the 1920s. The little black dress caught on because it was something every woman could wear and every woman could look good in. It was dependable and practical, thus, "the Ford of fashion." Rather than relying on the old, decaying nobles whose money was running out, Chanel's clientele came from the industrial business class that had an endless supply of new money.

Of course, the world would change again after World War II, and Chanel would be usurped by Christian Dior as the new arbiter of elegance and modernity. Dior brought extravagance and opulence back to French couture, and his nipped-waist designs hearkened back to the nostalgia for pre-war times. Chanel was dealing with the fallout of an affair with a German intelligence officer and had to self-exile from France for several years.

Eventually, she returned, but the brand was out-of-date and diminished. Rather than cutting-edge elegant ballgowns like she had made before, the Chanel brand was pretty much just limited to its iconic suits, and as time wore on, it was considered to be something of a stuffy old lady brand until Karl Lagerfeld revived it in the 80s.

#Paul Poiret #Coco Chanel #Chanel #Christian Dior #Dior

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wileys-russo · 11 months ago

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would you be willing to write reader getting her wisdom teeth out and being all loopy and out of it while leah takes care of her (their relationship is relatively fresh) and she asks leah if she wants to know everything reader loves about her and leah agrees, thinking it is mostly going to be like sexual stuff or about her body but reader lists almost exclusively her personality and stuff like leah being super eloquent and hardworking etc and leah is just very positively surprised and swooning at it

it’s just fluff basically but a bit cheesy lol

happy gas II l.williamson

leah spun her keys around on her fingers as she returned to the dental clinic, jogging up the stairs and shoving her keys in her pocket as she stepped inside, a slight shiver going down her spine as the air conditioning pumped down onto her.

"hi, i'm here to collect my girlfriend? y/l/n, i was told to come back around two." leah smiled politely, resting her arms on the counter as the receptionist nodded, stepping out to check with the doctor.

"she's just waking up a little from the anesthesia love, take a seat and you'll be able to see her shortly the nurse will come and fetch you..." she trailed off expectantly with a raised eyebrow. "leah." the blonde smiled, thanking her and moving to sit down in the waiting room.

shifting around in the hard plastic chair the footballer busied herself watching a the big quiz re-run playing on the small telly above her. "leah? leah? leah!" she'd become so engrossed in the show, even mumbling along answers that she almost missed her name called out.

shooting out of her seat she sent the nurse an apologetic smile and hurried after her, making small talk as she was lead toward the recovery room. "is that-" leah started with a frown hearing a familiar laughter echo through the halls.

"sure is. your girlfriend is up there with one of the worst behaved but most amusing patients we've had!" the nurse chuckled and opened the door, leah stepping in after her.

"lee lee! you didn't leave me." you beamed happily, spitting the gauze out as the nurse hurried over to replace it with some fresh ones. "no i didn't, i told you i'd be back right after your surgery sweets i just went to get something to eat to pass the time." leah smiled with a shake of her head.

"she's certainly a character." the doctor chuckled with a shake of his head. "oh yes she is." leah agreed, the two of you were a relatively fresh pairing, having gone on several dates and a prolonged talking phase you'd only been dating for around three months now.

"is that normal practice? my little brother had his wisdoms out a couple years ago and never needed that." leah frowned as she noticed your hands had been restrained to the arms of the chair with velcro.

"no its not, however your girlfriend seems determined to pull out her gauze and if she doesn't keep it in her mouth long enough to stem the bleeding she's in for a world of pain." the doctor explained as leah nodded along.

"if she's not pulling it out she's screaming, singing or yelling causing it to fall out." the nurse sighed as you rolled your eyes and leah moved to be by your side.

"love can you please be quiet for a little bit? if you don't keep the gauze in your mouth to stop the bleeding they'll need to remove all your teeth." leah warned as your eyes widened in fear at the lie and you were instantly silenced.

"well thats one way to do it." the doctor laughed as leah smiled smugly and ran a hand affectionately through your hair. "so! aftercare." with that the older man ran leah through everything she would need to do as your primary carer for the next forty eight hours.

your hands now freed and helped into a wheel chair as the anesthetic meant your limbs weren't quite strong enough to hold you up leah wheeled you out of the clinic, shaking her head as you blew kisses to all of the nurses.

"stop that! save some for me." leah teased flicking your ear, some sort of gibberish mumbled from your mouth which was still stuffed with gauze. another nurse helping leah get you from the wheel chair into the car you happily waved her off as she returned with the chair toward the clinic, leah slipping into the drivers seat.

"why am i in the back!" you huffed, words a little muffled from the gauze but with the drowsiness wearing off they were less slurred.

"because you got voted one of the worst behaved patients at that clinic and i wouldn't put it past you to grab or push something you dont need to up here." leah smiled in amusement as you scoffed.

"thats so mean! they really voted me that." you seemed genuinely heartbroken as leah pulled out of the carpark. "love are you crying?" leah bit down on her lip to stop her smile as she glanced to you in her rear view mirror.

"yeah! thats really mean of them, i was so nice." you sobbed and leah couldn't help but cover her laughter with a cough knowing this was only the side affects of the anesthesia. "baby girl you both threatened and tried to bite the poor doctor multiple times, thats not very nice." leah reminded, corners of her mouth curling upward.

"cause he wouldn't keep his dirty glove covered hand out of my mouth!" you huffed with a scowl, head thumping against the back seat. "thats because he needed to remove your wisdom teeth you muppet, which are in your mouth." leah chuckled with a playful roll of her eyes.

"lee lee i am starving, get me some food please." you demanded, kicking the back of her chair like an annoyed child. "you're not allowed to eat for another four hours my love, sorry." leah apologized, your protests falling on deaf ears as she continued to drive home.

placating your whinging and trying her best to keep you quiet so the guaze stayed in your mouth leah felt a sense of relief wash over her when finally she pulled into the driveway of her apartment where you’d be staying the next few days so she could keep an eye on you.

she scrambled out of the car and hurried to your door, opening it before you could and helping you out, your legs a little stronger now some more time had passed.

successfully getting you up and out of the car and into the house she helped you onto the sofa, dashing off to change clothes so she was more comfortable, changing in lightning speed given she didn't want to leave you unattended for a moment longer than needed.

finally after a half hour of squirming and wiggling and fighting leah at every turn to take the gazue from your mouth or get up and move about you'd settled, an ice pack resting on your jaw to help the swelling as your back pressed into leahs front.

"leah." you spoke up, tilting your head back and shuffling a little so it rested on your shoulder and she hummed. "do you wanna know everything i love about you?" you smiled tiredly as your girlfriend chuckled, already quite sure what would be next out of your mouth as she gestured for you to continue.

but to her surprise it wasn't anything of the sort that she'd expected, no cheesy pick up lines or suggestive comments, no cheeky remarks about her body or your time spent together in the bedroom. in fact, it was the complete opposite of what leah expected.

"mm well i love that you're so passionate. about football, the arsenal foundation, your friends, your studies, your hobbies, a very very passionate woman." you started, a slight slur returning to your voice as the pain medication you'd just taken started to kick in.

"i love that you make me feel loved, and safe, and accepted, and happy, and comfortable. you love me for me and you have never asked or expected me to change." you continued, leah stunned into silence as you affectionately patted her leg.

"i love that you're so well spoken, and you always know what to say. but sometimes you know what to say and you don't say it because you want to annoy me and it works! because you know too well how to annoy me." you rolled your eyes as leahs smile grew.

"i love how much you love your family, its so special to watch the bond you all have. i love how much you love football, as a player and a fan and a spectator and sometimes an unintentional gaffer!" you grinned lopsidedly, your eyes closed now as leah pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, hugging you tightly.

"i love how good you are with my neices, and how much my mum loves you, even if the two of you gang up on me now!" you cracked open one eye tiredly to glare up at her causing her to chuckle and run a hand through your hair.

you paused as you let out a long yawn, again shuffling back so you were laid down a little more and comfortable once again between leahs outstretched legs. the girl assumed you were finished, her heart well and truly melting at your sweet confessions.

"i love that you are unapologetically yourself and you stand up and speak out on what you believe in. i love that even though you can't cook to save your life you order me pizza and let me pick the movies we watch." leah was grateful the two of you were alone now as she was sure if any of her friends and family saw just how in love she looked with you right now she would have the mick taken out of her forever.

"i love how strong you are and how you bounce back from everything, and you always try to find a silver lining or a different way to look at things. i love that you're so honest and open about how you're feeling and what you need when you need it. i love that-" your last few words were barely understandable as you inhaled and exhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut again as leah waited a moment before confirming you had indeed finally fallen asleep.

she could have cried at everything you said, and to be honest she was shocked she hadn't given she was basically a puddle of a human being, a pile of sap and heart strings and lovesick puppy eyes for you.

"oh my pretty girl, my best girl, if only you knew just how much i love and adore you. but i promise to spend each and every day showing you so, forever and always."

#woso x reader #leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso community #engwnt #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso blurbs #woso

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halcyone-of-the-sea · 1 year ago

Text

Songs That Sound Like Sea-Foam (I)

AU MASTERLIST || PART II

PAIRING: Fisherman!John Price x F!Mermaid!Reader

WORD COUNT: 6.2k

WARNINGS: Fluff, mentions of death, being hunted, vulgar language, price in a tunic (yes this is a warning by itself), awkwardness, nakedness, suggestive (?), implied age gap, etc.

A/N: I'm feral over this AU, ong. A million kisses to the Anon that brought this to my attention-btw this is definitely becoming a mini-series.

*I do not give others permission to translate and/or re-publish my works on this or any other platform*

Your family told you to never go beyond the deep waterways of the cove, never to brave the open sea. Times were changing. The Harpies, when they weren't as shrewd about their feathers getting wet, would fly down from their tall mountain spires and tell stories—ones about the hunting ships.

They’d seen them, they said as your family listened on in horror from the rocks, dragging all manner of Merfolk up from the waters in large nets made of iron and hard steel. Spears that tore scales to take for profit. In other instances, the unlucky individuals were even sold to royalty to become showpieces in displays of high wealth and standing.

But it wasn’t just Merfolk. It was all manner of mystical beast and being. Hunted. Sold. Humans, your parents had told you, were not friends. They were greedy and selfish; more than often cruel.

And so they started to do the same unto them. Your family would lure them with their voices to the ends of the great ships that were brought close to your cove—watch as they hurled themselves from the sides into the grasp of the ruthless waves. They did it for you, they explained. To try and keep you safe.

For years they did this until they were gone too.

Suddenly the cove seemed more like a prison than a safe spot, and the Harpies no longer came to converse or tell news. Killed or taken you had no idea, but it was becoming fairly obvious that even interactions with your own people were impossible. Were you the only mermaid left? It was a good question to ask and one that you could never answer. All that you knew was that you had been alone for a very long time.

That was, before you first laid eyes on the fisherman.

You watch him now, yet again, from behind the sharp jutting body of the rocks; the water delicately bobs you up and down as your vibrant tail hangs limp in its otherworldly throes. Eyes softly wide and mouth parted in wonder.

He’s walking along the deck of a small ship—not the large and intimidating ones of the other men that sail the seas—with a strong form. A hat on top of his head of brown hair and a well-trimmed beard of the same color made him look gruff in appearance.

Your hands shift over the sharp black stone, and the nakedness of your top is covered by the long strands of your wet, uncut, hair. This man wore a plain white tunic and brown pants stuffed into large boots. Even as far as you were, you heard the soft whistled tune dancing in the shell of your ears. Delicate eyes watch, head slowly peeking out more and more.

He was tending to the nets he had on the bow and as you studied him you were mystified.

“Fascinating,” you whisper, unknown emotions swirling in you.

His muscles strain, large and expansive shoulders lead down to a tapered waist; legs that you blink at before glancing at your tail under the rippling water. There’s a large grunt before the fisherman’s net is thrown in a beautiful arc, hitting the water with a slap and a spray of liquid as it begins to sink. Startled, you flinch back, gasping loudly.

With a racing heart, you quietly scold yourself for the childish reaction, flicking your tail in annoyance. Slowly but surely, your head peaks back out with water dripping down the flesh of your shoulders.

But when you shift back into the open, you find a deep set of stormy blue eyes digging into your field of view. You freeze, seeing his lids go back in surprise and shock as your jaw slackens. A cold fear enters your veins at the new attention brought to you but you find yourself unable to look away.

The Fisherman is the picture of utter stillness, just as you are, like twin mountains of ancient stone. Your nervousness only seems to grow as he doesn’t do anything—teachings and lessons about those who walk on two legs and sail in ships poking holes into your mind.

Gawking and spying were one thing…but being seen meant death. You swallow stiffly and go tense, shifting to half-hide behind your rock.

“Oh, no,” your mouth murmurs, self-hatred and fear lining the tone. “Oh, no, no, no.”

And yet the Fisherman had not moved, nor made any attempt to pull his sinking net back into his boat. Fish panic in the rope grave they’ve been ensnared in. His eyes….why are they so curiously locked on you?

You spare one last glance before shoving away from the rock and disappearing under the water with a violent splash; making off for the deep underwater caves that offer salvation.

When you’re down there—in the darkness with only silent ripples of light to guide your eyes—you find it hard to stop thinking about the Fisherman and his strong jaw. His genuine awe at the sight of you.

Had he not heard the stories of the Merfolk of this region? Or…or were you truly the last of your kind?

The thought troubles you, and, riddled with anxiety, you go over to your store of shiny trinkets that you’d collected over the years; grabbing them in your hands and fiddling with them to try to put your mind at ease. The walls of the caves bare down on you and you hope you’d not just signed over your own death warrant.

Maybe he’ll go away, you offer yourself, face tight and tail curled close, maybe he’ll be afraid and won’t come back.

It was a pointless belief. They always come back—driven by greed or a righteous authority. Humans were cruel.

But your brain goes back to stormy blue eyes like pebbles and softly parted lips. Orbs glinting with wonder and shock. No attempt to shout or grab for the large knife you’d seen strapped to his belt.

A fisherman, you told yourself, who hesitated to go after the biggest fish of them all.

You didn’t quite know if that made you more afraid or more intrigued.

—

It was only after you’d spent three weeks in the underwater caves of the cove that you’d finally decided the coast was clear. You’d cautiously gone back through the winding seaweed and schools of marine life to hide in your little rock fort; afraid but brave. From under the waves in the calm of the water you’d scanned the surface for the shadows of a boat, anything to indicate that the man had returned.

Nothing.

Tension leaves your shoulders and you travel upwards, vibrant scales shimmering like jewels. You were quite close to the mainland, you would say, back to the shore to look out over the open entrance to your home. At the first sign of danger, the rocks would be your first point of shelter if you wished to remain hidden but continue to watch.

Ears popping as your head surfaces, you only look out with the water swaying below your eyes; nose and chin hidden. Sand from behind you shifts.

“Knew I’d seen something, then, eh?” Your heart lurches—brain flashing to hooks and nets; you shove yourself back under the water with a garbled gasp.

Fish around your form dash away as you frantically look back at the surface, your scales shining as the light hits them. Fingers tense in the water, you shift your body so that your form has its back to the floor of the cove and breathe quickly in your own mermadian way with shaking fins.

On the very edge of the shore, you see the shadow of a sitting body in the sand. He hadn’t moved, this Fisherman. Was waiting as inanimate as an empty shell.

What had he said? You ask yourself, hair disturbed by the flow of the waves above your head. A gentle back and forth. After a moment of contemplation, the large muscle in your breast slows itself and a nervous curiosity grows.

Yet still, the shadow stays completely motionless beside the occasional itch and brush as facial hair. Waiting.

Waiting to attack, your hand twitches in the water and you flutter your tail to take you closer to the open air, or waiting to see me?

Taking what you can describe as a deep breath, the top of your head once more breaks the top of the water; lashes dripping salty tear-drops as you blink away the sting. Every part of you is ready to disappear once more if things go south.

And then you lock eyes once more.

The Fisherman sits in the sand with his boots pushing up the granules—his right hand rests over his bent knee while the other keeps him up in a relaxed position from behind his back. You stare, the sun reflected in your eyes with a small glinting and hair in your vision. A foreign heat builds in your face when the man’s head tilts; tiny eyes narrowing as if he’d just proven a point to himself.

Why doesn’t he seem surprised?

There’s a moment of a smirk that slashes his hidden lips but it’s gone in a fraction of a second. His mustache moves as he speaks and your face slightly bobs lower instinctually. The Fisherman doesn't seem hostile—he has a kind of stern comfort to him.

Stubborn gruffness. And his accent only amplifies that fact.

“Well, wasn’t expecting to find you here,” his chest rumbles with his words. You find you quite like the sound of it. Shells grinding against each other and pearls that clatter in palms. Your eyes widen with innocence. The Fisherman clears his throat, still watching carefully as the water sloshes over his boots. “Else I would have stayed clear when I still could.”

Your hands tread water around you, tail flickering in small movements.

The man's gaze darts down to stare as well as he could through the ripples.

“Bloody Christ,” he murmurs to himself, returning your eyes once more, “thought you were all mostly extinct. Fuckin’ hell.”

“Extinct?” Your lips flinch, chin caressing the waves as brows pull up. The Fisherman blinks as if surprised to hear you speak. To be honest, you were half afraid you couldn’t either—how long had it been since you’d had a conversation above water? You spent most of your time passing comments to rare traveling Hippocampus and Sea Serpents.

Not that they could respond, of course.

By now your face had entirely left the water, that word startling you. Your chest tightens.

“What do you mean,” you ask the older man, this strange Fisherman who was shifting his weight in the sand, “extinct?”

Dark brows furrow and his back slightly straightens itself.

“You aren't exactly what I’d be calling common, Love. No one’s seen one of your kind in years.” Your face stills.

“Years?” Head angling itself down, you stare at your reflection in growing fear.

The Fisherman makes a move to stand, and you dart back swiftly. A pale hand is held in the air as if to sedate you.

“Easy, now.” It’s said softly, a grunt stuck at the beginning. A small moment passes before the man fully stands up, dressed similarly to when you’d seen him before.

Top, pants, hat. There’s also a flash of metal around his neck, some piece of jewelry hidden on the chain under the layer of his thin, flowy, tunic. Hands go to cross over his chest in a display of muscle gained from a long time of hard work.

You nervously plead for an explanation, “B-but that…that doesn’t make any sense! I’m not the only one left!”

“No,” the Fisherman slowly states, taking off the hat from his head and delicately placing it on the ground. “No, you’re not the last.”

His eyes dart along your visible body, trying to catch a glimpse of that tail that was in all stories about your kind.

“Your name, Ma’am,” he asks, blue returning to your own sights, “what is it.”

“Well, what’s yours?” You counter, getting snappy in your anxiousness. “You come into my home and expect me to answer to you? And where’s your fishing boat anyways—unless a male Selkie has suddenly managed to brave the deep sea?”

Perhaps it had been a trick of the light, but you had sworn the Fisherman had smiled at you; it was a swift slash of something that pulled his mustache back and wrinkled his face. An amused thing it was. A sort of tiny tease, in its own right.

Your heart beats steadily at the sight, eyes watching.

“Well, I suppose you’re right, then.” He scratches at his beard with one hand, still studying you with a tilt of his head. As if weighing what he should tell you. There was an air of intrigue but that did nothing to hide the hesitance. “I docked my boat in the sea cave, thought it would do more harm than good to leave it in the open. If you’d seen it, you wouldn’t have shown, eh?” The Fisherman points and you look to the deep indent in the mountainside, the tiny ship visible as it stays stationary. You blink at it slowly.

“And you can call me whatever it is you like, I don’t bloody care, but I’m not inclined to tell one of the Merfolk my name—I may have come ‘ere, but I’m not fuckin’ daft, now.”

It was true, what he spoke of. Names to your people have a stark and violent purpose. To know one's name is to own a piece of that person’s soul. Songs gain more power, words grow into orders followed without thought. Not that it was your intention.

You glower, brows pulling in.

“A simple fisherman does well to know that it’s rude to speak ill like such in another’s home.” The man smirks, cheeks rising.

“Simple, am I?” The already expansive build of his shoulders widens as he leans back on his heels, water sloshing at his boots. His eyes glimmer like lighting with humor. The look makes your cheeks burn with warmth, throat swallowing saliva.

“Why are you here?” You avoid the question, treading water and letting your tail drift. Willing the water to cool your senses. It was obvious that this man wasn’t a hunter—foolish, perhaps, but no hunter.

Or maybe just confidently brave.

The Fisherman hums under his breath, grunting in the way you’d already come to associate with him. Rugged fellow, really. Weathered like a pile of old rope but still handsome, the sinews under the stain of dirt pure of color. You found yourself, however apprehensive, enjoying the squareness of his face; how the brunette’s hair would sweep in the warm breeze.

He was attractive.

“Fishing, Ma’am.” A broad sweep of one of his hands, “You have a proper cove. Plenty of places to cast.”

Your tight arms somewhat loosen.

“Just fishing?” Your voice darkens. “Then why is it you’re here on shore and not doing just that.” Tail flickering, it lightly brings you back from him, eyes always darting away to stare into the background of his form—at the dark shadows of trees behind the dark rocks. At the open mouth of the cove in case of extra ships.

If what he told you earlier was true, you were in danger just by living.

Extinct? Not seen in years? No, that can’t be right. A deep knot forms in your stomach.

“I may be human, Ma’am, but I believe myself to be above intrusion.” The Fisherman splays his hands by his waist and shifts his thighs. He seems serious again, like a wave going forward and back he seemed to always revert to a crafted visage of firm resolve. “This is your home, and I’m asking to ferry my boat here when able. Nothing else.”

You blink in surprise, brows pulling back.

He was…asking you?

“I…own the cove no more than the Manticore owns the desert,” your voice stutters, oddly touched by his sincerity. You pause and push yourself farther above a wave. This large man didn’t seem cruel to you. “I have no claim on the waters—they have been here longer than I. Do as you wish.”

While that should have been the end of it, you found his blue eyes continuing to watch you, head tilted like a shaggy dog. Thinking deeply with a slight parting of his lips and rising to his lids.

At the intensity of his silent wonder, your head goes light. Had you said something strange? No, it was just the truth. Then…why was this man’s face going to a modest pink shade? Why were his eyes darting away from yours and his feet shifting?

You narrow at him before he speaks, clearing his throat and crossing his arms.

“Alright,” the Fisherman mutters, chest rumbling.

A silence falls where your ears twitch to the lapping of the sea-foam and the feeling of blood in your veins which mirrors such movements. As you saw him do to you, your vision falls to the man’s body; looking across the tapering of his waist and the rolled sleeves of his tunic—showing off years of muscle

“I don’t suppose…” Your tail flinches from the sudden noise from the brunette, expecting him to swim over to his boat and get to his business. You stare and listen, and for the first time, you believe a mermaid has been entranced by another's voice. “That I’ll have the pleasure of seeing you again?”

The Fisherman speaks slowly, hands shifting on his biceps; thighs tense and settle. You allow the waves to connect and slide around your body and a feeling reminiscent of warm rocks in the sun grows in your heart.

Strange, this man. This serious-faced Fisherman who asks one of the Merfolk for permission over the waters we don’t control. You tilt your head to teasingly mirror the brunettes. He humphs in his throat at your action. I enjoy him.

At the first sign of danger you’d leave—but for now…talking felt good.

“Perhaps,” you say, lips twitching into a smile. “Would this nameless Fisherman enjoy the company of a mermaid? Not many would say yes.”

“I think you’ll find I’m not like those many, then, yeah?” He smiles, a small twitch of his lips. You begin backing up, getting to deeper water while maintaining eye contact. “I don’t care what you are, just that we have an agreement.”

“Very well,” your neck dips under the waves, tail momentarily peaking above the surface. Blue flickers to it, shoulders lowering in hidden awe. The Fisherman’s lungs still.

He hears your giggle before you dive under, disappearing swiftly down to your caves with a splash.

It’s a long while before the brunette picks up his hat and begins walking the length of the shore—strong steps taking him back to his ship with a tiny smile brightening his ruggedly handsome face.

He runs a hand over his chin and chuckles.

“Fuckin’ hell.”

—

You perch on the side of the Fisherman’s boat, golden comb in your grip as you run it over and over through your locks. Tangles and knots are rendered useless to the fine and beautiful make of the object, the handle covered in small barnacles and seaweed. A nice breeze wafts in the air, and behind you, the padding of feet goes across the deck. With the sliding of nets and a small whistling from the Fisherman, you feel your tail gently sway from side to side; the bottom under the water whose waves rise and lower the vessel.

It had been a week since your first meeting and you had become more relaxed about this man’s presence. He had been truthful—every day he would come and fish.

At first, you’d watch from the black rocks, sitting atop them and studying. More than once you’d see the brunette raise a hand in greeting when his boat had entered the cove; an acknowledgment that you were there and nothing more. No expectation for you to come over or speak to him.

Day after day you’d see the net being thrown from the side only to be reeled back by large arms, legs apart and firm to the deck.

On day four, you swam over and grappled onto the side of the ship, curious. Before you could even realize he instantly knew you were there—despite his back being to you—the Fisherman spoke in a cheeky tone.

“Come up, then, if you’re that interested. No use watching from the water.” So you had, with a bit more fire to your cheeks than you thought mermaids could handle.

Now it was routine. The human man would pull into the cove and you would sit on the side of his fishing boat, doing whatever you wished as he worked.

You pull your comb through the ends of your hair, placing it down after and closing your eyes before your hands grab the shiny strands, twisting them. Under your breath, you hum in tune with the Fisherman’s whistled song; the notes like a growing symphony in your head.

Song to Merfolk is sacred and revered—everything sings, in its own right, and deserves careful crafting to fully understand.

“You seem to enjoy that,” you startle to a stop, eyes popping open. Sharply looking over your shoulder, you pause your hands. Staring, the man has completely stopped his work; nets at his feet with slapping fish of all colors stuck in the rope’s limp weavings.

He squints at your confused face.

“Rhythm.”

“Oh,” you offer a smile and watch him look away only to kneel down and begin separating his quarry. “If you’re worried I’ll sing around you, think nothing of it—I know what that could cause.”

The Fisherman hums, amused at you, “I’m not. I was complimenting you,” the knife at his belt glints in the light. “You have a pretty voice, Love.”

You shyly watch him, hair partly covering your visage, and catch a glimpse once more at the necklace he seems to always wear. Silver and shiny but still hidden.

“If you knew about my species, you wouldn’t be saying that.” Explaining lowly, the man grunts, sending a look your way as he tosses a Cod farther up the deck—you watch it flop around for a moment.

“Well,” the Fisherman explains, hands pausing and body leaning closer as one of his knees connects to the wood. It’s a teasing whisper that slides into your drum, and you find yourself nearly shivering from it. Blue eyes twinkle with mischief. “I did. No worries, I’ll never tell.”

A deep chuckle joins a lighter one, and your tail shimmers in the open light; scales vibrant and rich-looking. From what the brunette can see on the deck—the smaller plates that extend all the way up your navel to stop at your belly button—you know he stares at them.

Not a greedy, evil, stare…just one of hidden admiration. It was of no surprise to you that he found it beautifully uncanny.

You have no idea how to read this Fisherman; have no idea what he wants. You think he doesn’t want anything. On your face, a strange calm settles.

“Tell me, Fisherman,” his gaze snaps from your scales to your face, momentarily stopping at the dip of your neck as you turn as fully to him as you’re able from your perch. Your hand rests at your side; spine twisted halfway. “Who are you? No, I don’t mean your name. I want your person. You don’t act afraid of me—of what I am.” He stays kneeling and lets the net rest for now, his heart beating steadily in his breast. “There is more to you than a human at sea, surely.”

Your words are not accusatory, they lacked any sort of confrontation. Curiosity, though, like enclosed treasure, was stuck behind your tongue. He surprises you by standing and beginning to walk over, boots thumping.

As he nears, he sits down with a huff on the edge, right next to you.

There’s a moment when you both stare into each other's eyes as you feel the world shift. Blinking up at him, at the closer range you take into account the ancientness of his eyes and how it seemed, for such an alone man, it was making him look far older than he was. Still older than you, yes, but the sentiment still stands.

With his hat having been retired not five minutes earlier onto one of the many ship’s barren tops, you saw the streaks of sun-bleached strands in his brown hair. You unconsciously reach for your comb but stay your fingers as they flinch over the gold.

Storm-blue carefully glances away before coming back to you.

“Not much to know, Love,” the Fisherman’s brow raises, “you understand?”

“No,” you say, honestly, head tilting at him. He looks surprised, breath hitching.

“It’s just…there’s not much to tell, Sweetheart.”

Humans are strange creatures.

Not knowing this word game, you take your hand away from the comb and bring it to his chest, slipping under the neck of his tunic to grasp at the necklace he always wears. A hand snaps to your wrist almost immediately—a startling speed that makes you flinch.

Above your heads, seagulls squawk at you, but all you can gaze into are those pure blue orbs. They trap you, drag you down far faster than a whirlpool into the briny depths of hypnotic appeasement.

Perhaps you were naive to the magical whims of males that walk on two feet.

The Fisherman’s jaw clenches, eyes tightly narrowed at you in hesitance and veiled threat. You blink at him softly, not doing anything besides twitching your fingers and widening your sight. Before long, his hold loosens but doesn’t leave, allowing you on whatever it was you were doing yet still touching your damp flesh.

Lips parting, you don’t make a fuss. Instead, you hum under your breath and allow his calluses to scrape you. The toughness becomes a stark contrast to your own make-up.

Feels nice.

Your digits peel out the article of jewelry and you shift closer to look; bare chest brushing against his. You can feel his pulse through the brunette’s tunic, the way his throat shifts in a tense swallow of nothing.

The necklace held two pieces of small, round, silver and said the following.

“Jonathan Price, Captain, 141st company under the King.”

As you read, your tail gradually begins brushing his leg in its swaying. Through it all, the large Fisherman only slants his chin down and watches, breathing half through his mouth and half through his nose. You hear his throat clear; feel his grip squeeze your wrist.

It is a small and taken-aback kind of noise. He doesn’t move his hand.

You are happy he doesn’t.

“You’re a…Captain?” Asking, you look up shocked and aren’t taken aback by how close your face was to his. Even if your cheeks begin to burn at the beard bristles itching your nose.

“...Yes,” breathe puffs over the lower half of your face. Your fingers detangle from the Fisherman’s necklace and let it thump to his chest. “I was. Left.”

Blinking, you whisper, steadily, “What’s a…Captain…?”

A small sound is made in the back of his throat and he releases your wrist and pulls back before a loud bark of a laugh jerks his chest. You stare in innocent confusion, hair falling over your shoulders.

“What?” Gripping his mouth, Jonathan Price grounds himself by gripping his thigh as he chuckles.

“No, no,” he takes a deep breath and releases his face, smoothing down his beard quickly with amusement stuck in his smile. “Bloody hell, it’s nothing. Nothing at all, Love.”

He sends you a warm side glance and you huff, moving back and picking up your comb, getting back to brushing your locks again. You are acutely aware that you now know the Fisherman’s name, but refrain from saying anything until he does. Now you know why he reacted in such a way.

Your tail twitches in the water as fish brush past it and the brunette begins with a soft look.

“I was in charge of a small group of men—we had a ship. Far larger than this old girl,” he pats the deck, and you slow your motion to show that you are listening, intrigued. “We did what was needed of us, but there was a thin line that needed to be drawn to keep every bastard sane.”

Blue meets your eyes and the man’s expression darkens. Your fingers twitch as the breeze ravages his hair, chest tightening.

“And yours?” You ask softly, entranced and open, “What was your line, Captain Price?”

He hums after a small silence, sighing deeply. Along the hull of the boat, the waves rock the vessel gently side to side, and your mythical attention seems to entrap him far better than your voice could. His face loses that dark edge, well-trimmed beard relaxes as his jaw does.

The past it seems, looms over him like a tsunami.

Reaching up a slow hand, his fingers brush the tendrils of hair that had slipped out of your hold and were dangling in front of your face; the Fisherman blinks and pushes them back behind your ear. By now your brush had long stopped and your breath was held in your chest. For the first time in your life, you think you feel yourself shiver at the delicate scrape of his skin on yours.

“John,” he mutters, and you suck down a shallow breath as he watches you like you were an idol of the Gods, “Just John.”

Your smile leaves his fingers pressing deeper into your scalp and, perhaps a bit naively, you welcome him to you like a bird to the sky. You liked his gruffness—his beard and his face. The lines on his forehead that you could imagine tracing as if they belonged on a map instead of the squareness of this Fisherman’s profile. Tiny sockets that hold sapphire stones.

“Maybe I left because I couldn’t stand seeing such beautiful creatures being put to the hook, eh?” Your eyes widen, tiny gasp leaving your lips.

Merfolk swooned with flattery, truth be told. They enjoy being doted on and praised; given gifts of both words and objects. You were no different.

Oh…did he call me beautiful?

John smirks at your reaction, taking his hand off of you and standing with a low chuckle. Your tail flutters at the sudden absence, head following after him as he walks back to his net with a sway in his step. You blink in astonishment.

“You’re a strange human, John,” calling to him, you grimace at the blatant disappointment in your bones at the lack of his skin on yours. At his humored hum, you sense your growing attraction to the grind of his vocal cords. His voice. “I don’t know what to think of you.”

“Then think nothing of me,” he explains easily, casually, re-gathering his nets in his toned arms. You try not to let your jaw slacken at the bulge under his tunic when he carries them. “I’m not offended by it, Love.” A sly look, “Do as you wish.”

Your tail twitches so violently you’re afraid you might break the side of the ship.

And so this strange dance between the two of you continued well into the longer months—John would come in his ship nearly every day and you would join him on the side of the deck. Sometimes you would hum for him and he would whistle a tune back, others there were long bouts of conversation about the ways of humans and beasts. John told you that the King had ordered the total extinction of all manner of ‘strange and unordinary’ creatures to secure his line safely to the throne.

When he had explained it, the mad had gone red with anger.

“Fuckin’ muppet,” he’d spit, fiddling with his knife as you watched a small distance away, playing with his silver necklace in your hands. You twiddled it around and liked how it shimmered like your scales did in the light. “Bloody thought I would just go along with the deaths of innocent beings. He had no facts—no proof to back up his claim. I’ve done things. Horrible things,” John explained to you, sending you a stiff look, “but I’ve not forsaken my damn mind to reality. Takin’ the piss.”

Muttering the last sentence to himself, you had felt your lips curve into a smile. “You have a proper conscience, John, done bad or not.”

“Yeah, well, Sweetheart, I’ll be done in soon enough.” You only stared with care-drowned eyes and caressed his necklace. When he had seen this, his body had deflated with an exasperated grunt.

You shared a chuckle and he got back to work; feeling his melting gaze drawn back to you every so often.

Later, yet again, you found your form on his boat, this time with his hands across the small of your back as you studied the blade of his knife.

“Careful, now. Don’t run your finger along the edge.” His free grip points to the sharp side—breath fanning your ear. You feel your throat tighten and nod, caressing a thumb on the leather handle.

John’s hand is hard on your bare skin and you sense his heat drilling past your veins into the very marrow of your bones. You unconsciously sigh when his fingers slide slightly higher, traveling the length of your spine; his scars catching on every knob of bone. Your exploration stills and your pupils widen.

His breath is on your neck, nose tilting as his jaw does just above the meat of your shoulder.

“Why’d you stop?” You stare off into the metal, lashes fluttering when his fingers finally curve at the swell of your neck. Lips drag on your flesh before a deep grumble of affection stems from John’s chest as he kisses your rapid pulse. “Distracted? Hm.”

“It’s,” you breathe out, scales reflecting light as your lower body shifts on the wood. His opposite hand circles your waist, drawing your back to his chest. Skin burns and thoughts go to liquid as you feel his roving muscle. “It’s g-good. Pretty—”

Words fail you as his lips continue to slowly travel.

“Could say the same,” John grunts; beard scraping down your flesh.

Your eyes flutter, head tilting to give more room at the same time you whisper out, violently shivering at the compliment, “John…”

“What is it?” The grip moves to run over your scales, right where your upper hips would be; the sensation of him caressing you with gentle, deep, rubs of his thumb was all it took for you to give in completely to him. “Go on, Love, speak.”

You take a breath and feel his heart beating steady along your back—the texture of his tunic. “What…are you doing?”

John moves your hair and places open-mouthed kisses on the back of your neck. He breathes in your scent and you turn your light head to stare unabashedly at his flushed face. Your tail sways, limp, over the side of the boat.

Blown pupils hide that sea-storm blue like a lock and key to dangerous thoughts and attraction.

In answer, his eyes flicker down to your lips hungrily and your gaze widens; a small sound in the base of your throat.

“You’re somethin’ beautiful, y’know that?” He says and you let him lean in closer to your face, eyes threatening to close when you take in the musk of human flesh and sweat. Rope and wood oil. John’s words make you shiver again, hairs standing on end—responding to that deep growl with a roaring in your ears.

You shouldn’t be enjoying this. Shouldn’t be enjoying his lips or his tight grip; his…his rough, large, hands that encapsulate your body and drown you. It terrifies you, this heart-stopping magnetism. You can’t get enough of him.

John presses his firm lips to yours, groaning into the connection as you sigh and part your mouth. Fingers shaking, you twist and place your hands on his chest, gasping mutely as his teeth nip into your lower lip and pull back before pushing back forward. Sparks of subdued pain mix with pleasurable agony at the scrape of his beard hair.

“Every inch of you…” John’s grip captures you closer, hands ensnaring you against his chest like deeply intertwined strands of fabric, squeezing as he licks his upper lip. He catches his breath shallowly. Blue eyes burn through you. “...is fucking perfection.”

You grab at his necklace and drag him back in, feeling him not waste a single moment to grip the back of your head and keep you trapped to him, tongues slipping out of mouths to tangle together like seaweed. Perhaps it was foolish, but a part of you knew that this Captain, this strange Fisherman—this Johnathan Price—was the only man or being on this planet, land or sea, who could make you feel like you could walk and fly all at once.

When he lifts you in his arms and drops you in his lap as if your body weighed as much as a pebble, you knew you’d brave the open ocean for this man in an instant. His arm drips with water as it slips under the joint of your tail; where your knees would be if you had them, and you whine into his mouth at the slip of his fingers.

Intoxicated, drunk off of his scent and his pressure.

A dangerous mix of two different lives.

It couldn’t last.

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ivoryrebellionmess · 2 months ago

Text

Spooky remorses II

Part I

Summary: You dated Jax for a year and a half, it was great. You fought sure, but that's a given if you´re both stubborn (and he's constantly in danger). Gemma didn't like the relationship, and she made sure that it ended. Now, months after the breakup, your friend takes you to a Halloween party that just happens to be SAMCRO´s.

warnings: 18+, mdni

A/N: hiii omg i cant believe so many people liked the first snippet. thank you so much, honestly, i am beyond excited. so here´s a follow up, hope youu like it <3

tw: foul language, kinda hooking up with your ex, jealous jax, smoking,a little bit of spice, alcohol, gemma being mean

Word count: 4096

As you got to the middle of the dancefloor you saw Juice and Hazel and went over. Juice and you had gotten close while you dated Jax. He was easygoing, funny and nerdy, and the first of the boys to warm up to you.

He lifted you from the floor when you hugged, ¨How are you Juicy??¨.

He seemed genuinely happy to see you, and he gestured to Hazel when he answered, ¨I´m great. You look awesome, the fangs are hot¨.

Finally someone complimented you on the fangs, you personally considered they made you look way hotter, but whatever.

Your relationship with Juice had always been the find of friendship where it feels like you´ve known each other forever, so flirty jokes had always been present. Hazel seemed surprised at the closeness you had with him, but it made sense that you had friends there if you had dated Jax for a year and a half.

¨While you two catch up¨, she interrupted smiling, ¨I´m going to the bathroom and to get another drink¨

Juice and you danced for a little while when his shirt sleeve rolled up and his bicep was visible. Before you could help yourself, your hand was on it.

¨What the fuck happened to you since I´m not around? You on steroids or something?¨ Juice laughed at that and shook his head.

He flexed his muscles while he talked about the new work out he´d been doing, ¨You like it?¨

He kept flexing his arm, and you kept laughing and touching him. Both of you oblivious to Jax´s stare, a mix of annoyance and jealousy. Chibs wasn't obvious though, and he did what he was there for. ¨You don't look too happy there, Jackie-boy¨.

Ever since he'd seen you go in, he was on edge, he didn't know why. Okay, he did, you looked awesome and it wasn't for him. He regretted what had happened between you, and he felt guilty, he should've stood up for you to his mom. And now you were there, all gorgeous. But it wasn't for him, and you weren't with him. You were with Juice, admiring his muscles. And it pissed him off. You thought you could just walk in? Not even say hello? Prance around looking that good? Flirt with one of his brothers? All of that in front of him?

Juice and you were still joking around about how girls just swooned when they saw his ¨guns¨, as he liked to call them. If Jax thought that was as bad as it got, he was wrong when a song you loved came on and you seemed determined to have Juice dance it with you. He eventually accepted and pulled you close to him by your waist, your arms around his neck. Jax was burning holes between his brother's tats when Chibs decided to continue his quest.

¨They´re getting cozy, aren't they?¨. He could feel the scot staring, but his eyes were glued to you.

To Juice´s hands on your waist, to the space separating your bodies that seemed to be getting smaller by the second. And your face, you were laughing at something, you lit up when you laughed. The way your right hand traveled from Juice´s neck to his arm again, squeezing it teasingly. He could feel the tension in his jaw, how tight he was gripping the beer, his knuckles white. And so could his brothers.

Then, you turned your head to look at him, your gaze uninterested and bored, and said something in Juice´s ear. That was it, you had crossed a line. Ignoring him was one thing, but that look of pure disinterest, you could not ignore what you meant to each other. So he started walking before he could think about it, not knowing what he was going to say when he got to you.

While you danced and joked, you suddenly felt Juice´s demeanor change, but you didn't need to ask what was going on.

¨Shit, I don't think Jax is loving this¨. He didn't stop dancing, but you could tell he was being careful.

You decided you were not going to take it seriously so you retorted, ¨Why wouldn't he like us dancing?¨

Juice chuckled, but his tone was serious, ¨Don't play innocent, you know he's jealous¨

You just couldn't resist a peek, was he really?, so you turned your head, very focused on keeping a neutral face, and looked at him. He did look jealous, and annoyed. You tried not to let it get to you, trying to have a good time.

So you made a joke, you had to get close to Juice´s ear so he could hear it, ¨Is he scared you´re gonna make a move on me or somethin´?¨

Instead of an actual answer, you saw Juice´s look of terror. Turning around, you understood why. Jax was walking towards you, an angry look on his face.

Juice´s whisper got mixed with yours, ¨Oh, hell¨ and ¨For the love of god-¨

Jax stopped in front of you, his eyes flickering back and forth between you two. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw before speaking in the coldest tone you'd ever heard from him.

¨What the hell is going on?¨ It was an easy question, with an easy answer, but you weren't feeling like taking the easy and safe route.

Did you know he probably thought you were flirting? Yes. Did you care? No.

So, before you could think, or Juice could answer, the snarky remark was out your dark red lips. ¨What's it look like, genius?¨

It didn't seem possible, but his jaw clenched harder, he wasn't even looking at you. ¨It looks like you're flirtin´with Juice, gettin´all up on him right in front of me¨ There was something bitter about the way he answered.

¨You think I care that you´re here? ¨ Of course you did ¨You think I did this for your attention?¨ You hadn't, you actually hadn't. You were just trying to have some fun and ignore the hottest guy in the room.

Jax knew you were just trying to provoke him, and it was working, but he refused to give you the satisfaction. He just hated seeing you two together, laughing and having fun while he was miserable. And maybe he also hated how damn close you had been dancing. The way you were looking at him, a challenge in your eyes. Go ahead, make a scene. He absolutely hated that he was about to.

He took a step closer, lowering his voice. ¨I don't think you did it for my attention, but now you have it. So cut it out¨

What did he think was going to happen? You'd just agree? No, he just wasn't thinking straight anymore.

You, of course, only challenged him further. All that was needed for that were a scoff and two words. ¨Or. What.¨

Another step closer, you could touch him if you wanted to. ¨Or you´ll find out, that's what¨ He just growled an empty threat, you both knew it. He also knew he was out of patience and you were not going to keep pushing his buttons.

You realized something then, he had growled, and you heard him. How had you been able to hear him with all of the noise…everyone was staring at you. Well, fuck.

¨Okay people this isn't a show, go back to the party¨. With that, you left the clubhouse, only stopping against one of the picnic tables to lay against it and breathe deeply.

Jax´s eyes followed you, as they had through the night. He could feel the weight of everyone's gaze on him, this had turned into a bit of a spectacle. He let out a frustrated sigh as he followed you to the picnic table, his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

You heard him before you saw him, and as usual around him, you spoke before you thought. ¨You did always like to be the center of attention¨.

The snarky comment had Jax gritting his teeth, his anger flaring up again. He did not speak, however until he was standing in front of you, arms crossed over his broad chest.

¨I don't know what the hell your deal is tonight, but you´re really pushing my buttons, you know that?¨

To that, you only shrugged, looking at him coldly. ¨My deal is I just wanted to have some fun¨

Maybe looking at him had been a mistake, if he had looked good from afar, he looked even better right in front of you, illuminated only by the streetlamps. He was wearing what he always wore, and still he had never looked better in jeans and an oversized white t-shirt. Your face did not show any of that obviously, it was neutral. He could tell you were angry though. But you could tell that so was he, so you were in a tie.

Fun, that was what you were calling it? He let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head in disbelief. ¨Yeah, real fun. Gettin´all cozy with Juice, practically making´out with him in front of me. That your idea of fun?¨

You bit your lip, trying not to lose it on him, the fake fangs drawing his attention. ¨So let's see if I got this right¨ You put all the poison you could in your words, hoping they stung as much as seeing him again did. ¨You´re mad that I danced with Juice, whose attention was on me, as opposed to dancing with you¨ You poked his chest before continuing ¨who didn't even say hi when I walked in?¨

He felt a pang in his chest at that, you were right, he´d been so caught up in his anger and jealousy that he hadn't even considered how he had ignored you up until that point. Jax looked away for a moment, a flash of guilt in his eyes.

¨I didn´t-¨ He started to defend himself, but cut himself off, you were right. Instead he let out a frustrated huff.

¨Yeah, that's what I thought¨ You let a beat of silence pass, then looked at him again. Fuck he looked good . ¨Got a smoke?¨ You needed something to do with your hands.

Jax looked confused for a second, his eyes scanning your face, staying on your lips for a second too long. He was still mad at you, but he obliged. ¨Yeah¨

He patted down his pockets until he found a crumpled pack of cigarettes. He took one out and handed it to you with his lighter. You only took the first, bringing your hand up as you asked , ¨Light me?¨

His pulse quickened at the simple request, something about the way you said it. A bolt of desire went down his spine. Something in him wanted to challenge you, so instead of just lighting it, he took the cigarette from your fingers and placed it between your lips, lightly brushing them. You made an effort to not show the way he affected you. Jax then leaned in closer, shielding the flame from the wind with his hand, not touching you. Your eyes were locked on his, the intensity of the moment almost unbearable. The fire made his eyes sparkle, you got lost in them.

His gaze was still fixed on yours as you took the first drag, his face so close to yours he could almost feel your breath on his lips. The intimacy made his heart race, his anger slowly fading into the background. Your anger also became less and less prominent, upstaged by a complexity of feelings.

Jax grabbed the cigarette from you and took a drag of his own, never breaking eye contact. The air between you was electric, crackling with tension. It was hard to breathe, having him so close. He blew the smoke, you felt it on the tip of your nose before it was blown away by the wind. His blue eyes were relentless, never breaking from you, not as he took another drag, and not as your hand searched for his to grab the cigarette. It felt like the tension was growing thicker by the second. Jax was very aware of how close he was to you, how easily he could just touch you.

He watched you smoke, and you watched him. Until your eyes focused on the cigarette instead of his blue ones. You followed the lipstick stained cig, and then your eyes stayed locked onto his lips. They wrapped around the end of the cigarette, then closed while he held the smoke in, and finally parted to let the smoke out. Jax could feel your gaze on his lips, it made his stomach clench with desire.

He took another drag, slowly and deliberately, his lips closing around the cigarette in a way that was almost sinful. To top it off, he let out a low hum, eyes never leaving yours even if you were not looking him back, mesmerized by his lips. He was fully aware of the effect he had on you. And you both knew it. You cursed him mentally when you realized he was doing it on purpose.

When he hummed though, that was straight up mean, and this time the curse came muttered under your breath, ¨fuck-¨

Jax smirked at your cursed response, his ego inflating. He could tell he was riling you up, and he was loving every second of it.

¨What was that, baby?¨ His voice was low and dripping with false innocence. And using baby so casually, like he would while you were together. None of it was accidental.

He took another drag, this time he watched you with a wolfish smile playing on his lips. You couldn't let him win.

Your hand went up to his face, sneaking the cigarette from him and taking it to your own lips. You exhaled the smoke in his face, lips almost brushing his.

¨Didn't say anything¨, you played along with his innocence, replicating it.

Jax´s heart skipped a beat when your hand snatched the cigarette from his mouth. He could feel your breath on his skin when your lips came so enticingly close to his. The innocent facade only making it harder not to close the space between you. But he knew it was only an act, one he wasn't buying.

He chuckled lowly, ¨Yeah, sure you didn´t¨. His eyes fell to your lips again. Your gaze was fixed on his eyes, the hungry look in them making it harder to think of a comeback.

You did what you could, taking a drag, hoping it would distract you, it didn't. ¨Yeah, sure I didn´t¨

Had it been the smartest thing to say? No, but it was the best you could come up with, so it would have to do. You had to up your game, he couldn't win. Jax found your teasing infuriating, it was also hot, yes, but infuriating. He was on edge, trying to keep his thoughts in check each time your lips wrapped around the cig. The need inside him to kiss you senseless was overwhelming, clouding his brain.

¨You're such a damn tease¨, he growled, ¨you know that?¨

To say that the growl had made your knees weak would be an understanding, so you decided to bring it up a notch too. It was only fair.

You replied in what could be considered a purr, rather than actual talking. ¨Don´t know what you´re talking about¨

His body ached to touch you, he gritted his teeth, wanting to kiss you until you couldn't breathe. Hell he wanted to kiss you until you couldn't remember your own damn name. The next time he talked you could hear the desire dripping in his rough voice, ¨God damnit, darlin´¨

You liked the effect that had had on him, so you purred again, this time closer to his ear. ¨What is it baby?¨

You hadn't meant to call him baby, it slipped, you got too lost in the heat of the moment. If you weren't so distracted, you'd realize the importance of what you had just said, the major step back you'd taken in getting over him. And his beautiful blue eyes. And his perfect lips. But he didn't give you time to think about all of that because his eyes darkened, his body stiffened by the tension. The sultry purr, calling him baby, you made him want to show you how much he'd missed you.

¨You know damn well what you're doing to me¨, the desire was mixed with a bit of a warning. It did nothing to scare you off.

Using the hand that wasn't holding the cigarette, you pulled him closer by his belt loop, all caution thrown to the wind.

¨Remember when we used to smoke together? Blowing the smoke into each others mouths?¨. You sensed him nod, watching him clench his jaw.

The reminder of those memories felt like a punch to his gut, your mouths touching, feeling your breath against him, the way your kisses would taste,...Jax felt like he was drowning.

His hands came to rest on your hips and his voice was barely rough whisper, ¨Yeah, I remember¨

You hummed, enjoying the feel of his hands on you, yours now resting on his abs, ,¨Havent done it in a long time, have you?¨

You could feel him tensing under your hand, fingers caressing his skin over the white cloth. His mind was spiraling, it had been so long since he felt your touch, and he wanted more. Jax tried to pull himself together, shaking his head and looking at your eyes.

His husky voice broke the silence, ¨No¨, and hesitantly, he added, ¨Not since you¨.

The hold on your hips got harsher, holding steady against his body. It made you press your legs together, and even worse, it pulled a groan from your throat. The fact that he hadn't done it with anyone else held significance, it felt like it was yours, it was something you did whenever your screaming matches reached a dead end. You´d share a cigarette, and it always led to this, which always led to bed. Or a couch. Or wherever. Even the pool table once.

Your legs pressing together did not go unnoticed, igniting in him the urge to pin you against the picnic table and take care of it himself. But he needed to keep some semblance of control, even if it was slipping further and further away. He did lean in closer, pressing himself against your body, his mouth so close to your ear you felt his beard scratch it.

But you couldn´r let him have this, so taking control over your body. Okay, maybe taking control was an exaggeration. Regaining an inch of self control, you whispered in his ear, ¨Wanna do it again? for old times sake?¨

Jax´x breath hitched as your breath ghosted over his ear, it took him a few seconds to understand what you said. And when he did, a shiver ghosted down his spine. His eyes fell closed as he fought the desire inside him, the want to do very ungentlemanly things to you against that table. But when had he even been a gentleman? He opened his eyes and looked at you, sending sparks though your whole body.

When he spoke and you looked up to him again his eyes were practically burning with desire. ¨Fuck yeah, I do.¨ His voice was barely above a whisper, yet it seemed to resonate through your whole body.

You did not have the strength to do anything, scared that your hands would tremble or your voice would shake. It wasn't a problem, because Jax took the cigarette from your hand, letting his knuckles graze your fingers. Your touch against his abs was driving him crazy. So did your smell. And so did your eyes, which were locked on his lips. The heat of your body, even if it was a chilly october night, made his mind travel to dark places. He took a slow drag.

¨Open up¨, his voice was raspier, holding the smoke in his lungs.

Your lips parted on their own accord, your head moving closer.That made Jax hum, itching to close the space between your mouths. His next command came right before he exhaled, not giving you time to react or answer, ¨Inhale¨. So you just obeyed, lips barely touching his.

That graze sent a wave of heat through his body. Every little detail, from the way the smoke curled around your nose to your hand tracing patterns on his abs, was more overwhelming than the last. It was a hard fight against himself, against the crippling desire to fuck you right then and there. The anticipation though, was making the moment hotter and hotter.

Your self awareness, the little voice screaming don´t do this, seemed to have disappeared with your self-esteem when he next ordered: ¨Hold it in¨. You almost moaned at that, his dominant side had always had that effect on you. Your hand moved to his waist, needing somewhere to hold on to before your knees gave out.

Your hand clutching his waist, that brought back memories. way more naked memories. Your body pressed against his, he was sure you could feel how hard he was against your thigh. And you could. It was distracting. You felt his arm move up again, but your eyes were locked on his.

Jax got closer as he spoke, his lips now millimeters from yours, ¨Ready?¨ You could taste the smoke as you exhaled.

Then your mind managed to work for a short second, what did he mean by ready?. ¨Another one?¨

Jax seemed to be a second away from tearing your dress off as he answered, ¨Yeah…another one¨. It was a challenge, he was challenging you, the stubborn bastard. But you were definitely not losing this fight.

So as the cigarette came closer to his lips again, you snatched it, ¨My turn. ¨

He could hear it in your voice, you were fighting a losing battle, so was he. The idea of losing control with you in this moment, though, seemed appealing and terrifying at the same time. What you got instead of an answer was a groan and a rub, his impossibly hard dick against your soft thigh. You didn't realize you had moaned until he mocked you for it, ¨You need to keep it together baby¨, then his head moved lower as he bit your earlobe, ¨We haven't even started yet¨.

His sass, as much as it bothered you, was hardly enough to keep you from clashing your lips with his. But he pulled away, his voice dripping sex and cockiness, ¨Show me what you got¨, nodding to the cig in your hand. And you had no voice but to obey.

So you took a long drag, hoping it would distract you from the ache between your legs. It didn't. Moving the hand from his waist to his face, you caressed his lower lip and decided to throw his words back at him.

¨Open up¨. You sounded way more confident than you were expecting, or felt for that matter. You could tell it had bothered him, good . That's not all it did, it caused him to hum. And as he parted his lips, his tongue darted out and licked your thumb. You shakingly exhaled the smoke, not knowing how much more you could take.

Jax did not need your instructions, closing the gap between you and inhaling the smoke, not pulling away even after he let the smoke out, you were breathing the same air. Jax somehow got closer, one of his hands steady on your hips as the other moved up, finally setting on the back of your head. His fingers traced patterns on your nape, sending shivers down your spine. Your mind was no longer yours as you slowly licked his lower lip. His lips parted a second later, but he didnt give in. Lucky for him, you didnt give a fuck anymore. Using the hand on his cheek, you pulled him closer and kissed him, your tongue in his mouth, battling for dominance. Fuck. It was somehow better than you remembered. And you couldn't get enough, his lips tasted like smoke and addiction.

Life never made it easy for you as the clubhouse door flew open, breaking the moment, shedding light and noise on you. On your compromising position.

#jax teller x you #jax teller x reader #jax teller fanfic #jax teller #soa #sons of anarchy #samcro

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