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serpentandlily · 5 months ago

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Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader

Birds of a Feather - Azriel x Reader

Summary: Azriel had been your closest friend, made from the very same things as you—birds of a feather, as they say. But you were not the girl he chose to fall in love with. So all you could do was love your mate in the shadows until the day you died.

Warnings: angst angst angst

A/n: Inspired by Birds of a Feather by Billie Eilish, but this is a more sad interpretation of the song. Hope you enjoy! (Epilogue HERE)

• ───────────────── •

I want you to stay

'Til I'm in the grave

'Til I rot away, dead and buried

'Til I'm in the casket you carry

• ───────────────── •

A flick of golden brown hair caught your eye as Elain tossed her head back with her lilting laughter. So soft. So beautiful. So charming. You could hardly blame Azriel for being so enraptured by her. To him, she was probably the answer to all his questions, all his insecurities and doubt. To have someone like Elain look at him like that…Well, it seemed like it had healed something in him.

Unfortunately for you, it had done the opposite. It had completely destroyed you. Torn your heart into pieces. Opened new wounds and old wounds. It had shined a light on every single insecurity you felt. Because you had been praying for the day that Azriel would look at you the way he looked at her. But that day had never come and it never would.

You hadn’t been good enough for him. Hadn’t been beautiful enough to catch his attention like Mor and Elain had. Hadn’t been sweet enough to serve as a beacon of light for him. Hadn’t been soft enough to bring him comfort.

You slipped out of the back door. No one even noticed your disappearance, all too happy in this new little family they had created with all three of the Archeron sisters.

Tears lined your eyes as you hugged yourself, slowly walking along the Sidra towards your apartment. You had been naive to think you’d ever have a love like Feyre and Rhys or Nesta and Cassian. Azriel had been right that night you’d overheard him in the High Lord’s office.

The Cauldron had gotten it wrong. It had gotten it all so wrong.

Azriel was your mate. He was supposed to love and cherish you. Not her. But he had never looked your way once—not like that. You’d been best friends since the dawn of time, since you had entered each other’s lives. But that was all the companionship he could give you.

On nights like this, you almost wished you had told him about the mating bond when it had snapped for you. But you had hoped and prayed that he would come to love you for you and not for the mating bond. So you never spoke a word of it to anyone and maybe that had been your mistake.

But you didn’t want a love that only existed because of the mating bond. You wanted a love that felt real and deep—with the mating bond only serving as the cherry on top. You didn’t regret not telling him. But you did regret sticking around to watch him fall in love with another girl.

It didn’t help that Elain was the opposite of you. She was all sunshine and flowers, soft warm bread and honey. You were a creature of the night. You were the moon and its shadows, cryptic and grim. It was why you thought you and Azriel got along so well. You were made of all the same things. But he had always hated that about himself so really, it shouldn’t have been so surprising that he would look for someone who embodied the opposite.

It hurt though, it hurt so much.

You were his equal. You lived in the shadows as much as he did. Your soul was made from the same essence as his. You were birds of a feather. You were companions. He was the only one who understood you completely and you were the only one who saw him and loved him as he was—darkness and all.

You were supposed to stick together through it all.

But…he hadn’t chosen you.

You finally made it back to your apartment and hung up your coat before collapsing on your bed and letting the sobs ricochet through the utter silence of your home.

Alone once again.

As you always would be.

• ───────────────── •

Birds of a feather, we should stick together, I know

I said I'd never think I wasn't better alone

Can't change the weather, might not be forever

But if it's forever, it's even better

• ───────────────── •

All you had wanted to do today was get lost in your book and forget about your own life for a few hours. That was what you had planned, why you were even in the private library at the River House. But of course, the Mother decided to spite you once again.

Azriel sat on the armchair across from you, fiddling with Truth-teller as he ranted about Rhysand for the millionth time. He was still upset about your High Lord telling him to stay away from Elain, even though he had completely ignored those orders anyways. As far as you knew, Rhys hadn’t brought it up again.

Your jaw was clenched as he brought up Lucien, laminating on how much Elain didn’t want him or the mating bond between them. You blinked away the tears that threatened to come. It almost felt like he was talking about the mating bond between the two of you—the one he still had no idea existed.

Your heart was pounding in your chest, your stomach tossing and turning. You were so in love with the male sitting before you, so in love with your best friend. And here you were, listening to him talk about another girl the way you wished he’d talk about you.

You cleared your throat when silence finally overtook the library, your eyes darting to the fireplace that was lacking any light—cold and dusty—the same way you felt inside.

“Don’t you think…” you started, not looking at Azriel, not sure you wanted to say the words lingering in your throat.

“Do I think what?” Azriel raised an eyebrow at you.

You looked away again.

“I don’t know,” you hesitated before continuing, “Don’t you think that Rhys might actually have a point?”

You were still focused on the fireplace as you awaited his response with a bated breath. It was the first time you’d addressed his interest in Elain without being positive. But you just had to poke at it once—just once to make sure you were right in keeping the mating bond from him.

“Oh Gods,” Azriel groaned. “Not you, too.”

“I’m just asking,” you said in your defense. “What if…what if in ten years Elain decides she does actually want to give Lucien a shot? The mating bond—”

“Is godsdamn stupid, is what it is,” Azriel scoffed. “She doesn’t want Lucien, Y/n. She wants me. We want each other. Is that such a bad thing?”

“No, I’m not saying that,” you grimaced, “But what if you find your mate? Would you…would you stay with Elain?”

“Of course I would,” Azriel answered without missing a beat, digging that dagger into your heart a little more. “I don’t have a mate and even if I did, I would only ever feel sorry for her. For being cursed and shackled to me. At least Elain is choosing me. She is choosing me, Y/n. Over her own mate. If that isn’t love, then what is?”

“I don’t know, Az.” You swallowed harshly, your throat closing up the further this conversation went on. You wanted to scream and sew your mouth shut at the same time. “Is that what this is? Are you truly in love with her?”

This was it. The question you had been avoiding for months. And his answer would solidify everything. It would either put the nail in the coffin between the two of you or it would lighten the weight on your shoulders for just a minute—give you a modicum of hope to hang onto.

“I am,” Azriel snapped, surprising you with his sudden ire. He rose from his seat, his eyes narrowing at you. “What is wrong with you? I thought you cared about me. I thought you were my friend, Y/n, and you’re acting just like Rhysand.”

You shot up from your seat, eyes wide. “No, Az, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it that way, I just—”

“No, I get it,” Azriel scoffed, cutting you off. His eyes were ice cold. He had never looked at you like that before. It made your heart pause. “You just want me to continue being miserable. Because that’s always been why the two of us got along so well. Both lonely and so unhappy and now that I’m finally not, you want to drag me back down. Maybe one day someone will love you the way me and Elain love each other. But just because no one does right now, does not mean I have to give up my happiness to keep being miserable with you.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, your lower lip wobbling. All you wanted was Azriel to be happy. It was another reason why you hadn’t said anything about the mating bond. Because he was happy with Elain and you didn’t want to throw a wrench into that. You hadn’t meant anything by asking him those questions—only wanted a bit of closure for yourself.

Well, you had gotten closure, all right. Azriel would never choose you. He was right. You were miserable and lonely and heartbroken. Why would he choose you? But you hadn’t expected him to be so harsh. A simple yes would’ve done the same. Tears slipped down your cheeks and the anger from Azriel’s eyes was washed away.

But you didn’t stick around to hear his half-assed apology. You couldn’t. Not when your heart was being ripped apart in your chest, not as bile was rising in your hoarse throat. You dropped your book down on the coffee table before fleeing from the room, ignoring his calls of your name as you left.

• ───────────────── •

But you're so full of shit,

Tell me it's a bit,

Say you don't see it, your mind's polluted

Say you wanna quit, don't be stupid

• ───────────────── •

Months went by, all meshing together. You had avoided Azriel since that day in the library. It hurt but being around him hurt even more. It was all you could do to protect your already broken heart. He didn’t reach out to you either, instead all of his attention went to Elain.

Elain who had finally told Lucien she would never accept their bond.

And so Azriel and her had finally proclaimed their love to the whole family. A family you felt yourself slipping away from bit by bit. No one even seemed to notice. After all, it had always been you and Azriel hiding away in the shadows—content to observe and love from the corners of the room.

But now it was just you in that corner, all alone.

You stopped going to family dinners, stopped hanging around the River House, stopped going to training with the Valkyries. You began to disappear from their lives day by day. You couldn’t bring yourself to stay. Not when your mate was in love with someone else—not as they all started new chapters in their lives and left you behind.

You had overstayed your welcome. No longer Azriel’s closest friend and confidant. No longer Cassian’s sparring buddy. No longer an extra ear for Rhys to run court decisions by. No longer Mor’s dancing partner or Amren’s pupil to bully.

You became a shadow of yourself. Sleepless nights led to a lack of energy and focus. Constant tears led to being voiceless. You couldn’t even resort to alcohol because it made the steely barrier you had put up to block out the mating bond come tumbling down, flooding you with all of Azriel’s feelings. Happiness, joy, lust, desire, satiation.

It was just a reminder that you weren’t the one giving him those things.

But you couldn’t disappear the way you wanted to. Not when a new war started with Koschei. Despite months of not being around, Rhysand still sent you a notice to come to a meeting to discuss strategy and to inform everyone of new developments.

You wanted to ignore the summons but the thought of Azriel going into battle again without you around to watch his back nearly sent you spiraling. So you made your way to the River House, eyes on the floor the whole time as you stepped inside and hung up your coat.

You were about to go up the stairs to get to Rhys’s office when a hand on your shoulder stopped you. You spun around and your breath caught in your throat as you came face to face with Azriel. You took a shaky step away from him, your hand coming up to grip at your chest. The mating bond you had been trying to ignore shoved its way through your defenses—bombarding you with Azriel’s emotions once again.

His hazel eyes were filled with a bit of guilt and remorse. “Y/n, I was wondering if you were going to show up today. I…I’ve been wanting to talk to you but you haven’t been around much.”

Your mouth opened and closed, no words coming out. You didn’t trust yourself to speak. Azriel hesitated for a moment, rubbing the back of his neck before speaking, “I never got to apologize for the things I said to you. It's not an excuse, but Rhys had just laid into me again about Elain before I found you in the library and I took my anger out on you when you were just trying to be a good friend and I am truly sorry for what I said to you. I didn’t mean any of it.”

“It’s okay,” you mumbled, looking away from him. His words had felt true that day. Besides, what he said to you might’ve been wrong but that didn’t take away from the fact that he was in love with someone else. Regardless of his apology, there was no way you could go back to being his friend. It hurt too much.

Azriel seemed to be waiting for you to say anything else and his shoulders deflated a bit when he realized you weren’t going to. He gave you a weak smile before summoning something from his shadows. An envelope. He held it out for you to grab. You took it from him with a questioning look.

“It’s an invitation,” Azriel explained. “Me and Elain are getting married. I wanted to deliver this to you in person. It would mean a lot to have you there, Y/n.”

You stared at the envelope in your hand.

Stared and stared and stared.

Even throughout the whole meeting with the Inner Circle, all you could do was stare at that godsdamn envelope. Because inside of it was the last piece of your broken heart, smashed and weeping. Azriel was getting married…and not to you. To her.

So when Rhys announced his plans of attack for Koschei and how he needed someone to act as bait for the Death God, you were the first to volunteer because you truly had nothing left to lose.

• ───────────────── •

And I don't know what I'm crying for

I don't think I could love you more

Might not be long, but baby, I

Don't wanna say goodbye

• ───────────────── •

“Are you sure you don’t want to sit up front with the rest of us?” Feyre asked.

You looked up at her from your seat in the very back of the temple, shaking your head. You gave her a blank look. “No, it’s all right. I’m fine back here. You know I don’t like that attention of sitting near the High Lord and Lady.”

Feyre gave you an understanding nod. “Okay, but you will sit with us at the reception. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

You nodded to appease her, knowing you had no intentions of staying past the ceremony. You were only here for one reason—because Azriel had asked you to be here and you could never say no to him. So here you sat, your chest empty and your eyes sore from the tears you spilled last night.

This wedding felt more like a funeral to you and in some ways, it was. You were saying goodbye to a future you could’ve had with your mate, giving up the final piece of yourself for his sake, and getting to watch him be happy and free, such a bittersweet feeling. All you had ever wished was that he could be happy with you but that was just a dream—that’s all it would ever be.

Elain looked so beautiful in her wedding gown, as she always did.

Azriel’s eyes lit up the moment she came through the doorway, striding down the aisle to him. He held out his hand for her, helping her up the steps to stand before him. They didn’t look away from each other for a single moment during the ceremony. He was so in love with her. So in love with her and not you…never you.

The whole room was bursting with joy but not you. You were happy for him, of course. But you couldn’t help but feel that ache in your chest and everything that came with it. The hurt, the jealousy, the grief.

Had he even really wanted you here or had it been a pity invite? It didn’t matter because he took no notice of anyone but Elain. So when the ceremony ended and everyone began to make their way to the reception, you slinked into the shadows and disappeared once again.

• ───────────────── •

I'll love you 'til the day that I die

'Til the day that I die

'Til the light leaves my eyes

'Til the day that I die

• ───────────────── •

The battle was over. Koschei had been defeated. You had gone through with serving as the bait for this plan to work. It had cost so much to finally take him down. So many lives, so much power. And you. It had cost you everything.

You were dying. Slowly.

But you knew this was the end for you.

Even if you could be saved, you didn’t want to be.

You wanted to let death embrace you in his cold arms.

You wanted to leave behind this life finally.

Everyone was still cheering and hugging with relief when you stumbled back into the war camp. You pressed a hand against the deep wound in your stomach, blood bubbling through the cracks in your fingers as you passed by everyone—no one taking notice of you or your severely injured state.

Not until you made it to the main tent where the rest of the Inner Circle had begun to celebrate the victory.

It was Feyre who noticed you first, her gasp alerting the rest of them to your presence. But you were only looking at Azriel as you stumbled into the tent, barely making it past the threshold before you crumbled to the ground. You choked on the blood filling up your mouth, some of it trickling out of your lips.

Azriel shouted your name, pushing Cassian out of his way to get to you. He knelt before you, eyes wide with panic as he grasped your shoulders. In the background, you could faintly hear Rhysand shouting for a healer but you knew it was too late for that.

You weakly smiled up at Azriel. This is what you wanted. To just see him one last time. To let his face be the last thing you see before death came to take you. You reached a hand out, letting your fingertips brush against his jaw.

It took you being gravely injured for the mating bond to finally snap in place for him. You knew the minute he realized. The mating bond hummed in your chest but its song was so quiet now…so, so quiet.

It was slowly fraying as your life dimmed.

“Mate,” Azriel choked out in a whisper, his hand resting on your cheek. His eyes were still full of panic. “You’re…You’re my mate.”

You nodded, coughing again and more blood slipped out of your lips and down your chin. Azriel shouted frantically for a healer before focusing on you again, his eyes searching yours. “You knew?”

You nodded again, your body sagging in his hold. He let out a panicked cry and pulled you into his lap. “How long? How long have you known?”

“A while,” you managed to croak, your fingers raising to caress his jaw again.

Azriel stared at you in horror as he shouted again for a healer. You could hear the pounding of feet and other panicked whispers but you tuned it all out. You just wanted to go peacefully. No screaming, no cries. Just you and Azriel for the last second of your life.

“Why?” he cried out, wiping one of your tears away. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“You…were…happy,” you struggled to get out, your eyes closing with the effort. Azriel shook your body, tears filling up in his eyes.

“No, stay awake, Y/n, you have to stay awake,” Azriel pleaded with you. “The healer is almost here, okay. Just stay awake a little longer.”

“I-It’s…okay,” you mumbled. “Want…want to go.”

You coughed again, blood splatting your face. Azriel released a cry that nearly caused the ground to shake. “No, you can’t. You can’t go. You’re my mate, Y/n. You can’t do this to me!”

“I’ll find…you…again,” you slurred out. “Maybe…maybe I’ll be…good enough….then.”

You blinked once, your vision blurry but you could see Azriel’s beautiful face. Gods, he was so beautiful. He was screaming something but your hearing went along with your vision, slowly worsening until finally, your heart stopped beating in your chest.

And with that, the pain was finally gone.

• ───────────────── •

I knew you in another life

You had that same look in your eyes

I love you, don't act so surprised

• ───────────────── •

Epilogue

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar x reader #acotar x you #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #azriel fanfic #azriel angst #azriel spymaster #acotar angst #Spotify

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r3ynah · 10 months ago

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Married in the past, married in the present

To think that the Amity Trio would get dragged by their children (Dan and Dani) into another universe as a form of vacation and to escape the annoying palace councils, was not something to be expected in the Fenton-Nightangle-Foley-Manson family. it was due for a vacation anyways.

But here's the catch, They decided they should atleast take a two month break with each other so they can explore this universe more, but they did agree that every 2 weeks they'll pass the custody of their kids with each other.

It was very eventful to say the least,

Tucker, got adopted. by the one and only Bruce Wayne how?? he doesn't know either, the only thing he can remember was Bruce Wayne shoving a couple of adoption papers in his face, and now he was suddenly a Wayne, he certainly was not complaining he gets to use their advance technologies without it getting corrupted by his partner Danny(he loved the guy, but he needed his daily screen time too.)

He finds out about their secret identities two days in, was not completely surprised to find a cave downstairs, "Every billionare has one, you're not unique." was his words before he went on and explore the cave leaving a very confused batfam. he agreed to help them but if its only for hacking and stuff connected to technology, and to only join them if it's really a life changing scenario.

He was the second one to have Dan and Dani, so when they found out they're dad got adopted by a rich billionaire they were equally disappointed, Tucker tried to defend himself for his poor decision, to say the batfam was shocked once again was an understatement, imagine finding that their new brother had two children and two partners was lnot part of their new years plan. Dan and Dani only took a couple of hours for them to fit in.

Sam, went on and became a vigilante, under Harley Quinn and poison ivy's care, with almost the same powers as Ivy and same humor as Harley the three of them certainly became close friends.

Sam definitely had fun blowing up factories, and proceed to prank cops and officials, she had a run with the infamous batfam a couple of times, mostly Robin, the first time they've met they had a spar with their own weapons ofcourse,but at the same time all Sam could think was: 'the hell's a kid doing vigilante work?'. Eventually they have bonded over different weapons and fighting styles, Batman had atleast tried to recruit Sam who goes by Foliahàrà at some point, but was turned down quite harshly.

She was the first one to take care of their children, Ivy loved Dan's brutality and Harley adored Dani's chaotic self. so they became the fun cool aunts of the two children, they have somepoint asked one peaceful breakfast who the other parents are, But the only thing Sam had said was they'll meet them someday.

Danny becomes a villain, a mad scientist to be exact wondering what'll happen if he follows in his parents footsteps, he also works alongside with Mr.Freeze, and they discuss a cure together for Mr.Freeze's wife,.

He doesn't use his ghost powers in villainy his explanation? Phantom was for the good and peace. While Fenton-Nightangle was for the bad and destruction. it certainly was a shitshow when he first debuted, lets just say Gotham had an early snow day, about 20 meters of snow covered Gotham for a week. The worst part is that the snow doesn't melt. so the only thing they could've do was to sit and watch as only Fenton was able to melt the snow.

Danny was the last to get his kids, so as a responsible parent he let them go crazy, for the whole two weeks as long they keep their identities a secret and to be back at lunch, dinner, curfew and family night. which led to a bunch of rogues getting hunted and tied up by a pair of ghost kids. It was a peaceful quiet two weeks for Gotham.

'this is absolutely hilarious' Tucker known as Codelith mentally chuckled as his bat family including Foliahàrà who was sitting across him also tied up, he knew it was Sam the first moment he laid his eyes on her. no one does eyeliner as thick as Sam. Speaking of Sam she was glaring at him from across the room.

from different audiences it may have look like the two was going to kill eachother, but in reality its just their love language. The batfam looked at them confused.

"Codelit." Sam greeted in a annoyed tone.

"Foliahàrà." Tucker greeted in a more joyful tone.

"You two know eachother?" Duke questioned, as he eyed the two. very confused on why the two of them almost have the same green toxic light surrounding them.

"Ofcourse we do, we're ma-" Sam was cut off, by the sound of someone maniacally laughing. fate seemed to be a bitch because in strolled Joker himself holding a bloodied crowbar.

Tucker can feel Red hood relive his trauma, from where his sitting, he didn't really focused on the Jokers dramatic speech, because all he can think was the safety of his new family he grew comfortable with. thank fuck Dan and Dani aren't here.

"What's this a new birdie? Batman.. you sure like taking in a lot of children, how generous of you." this finally caught tucker's attention when as he saw joker walking towards him, his family stayed quiet but kept watching Joker's movements they looked constipated Tucker almost let out a snort but kept it in.

"Codelith wasn't it, Very unique I wonder why you picked it."Joker asked with a chuckle that made tucker want to puke. "Not talkative ey? well that's alright.

"I don't need you to talk." Joker playfully picked up his crowbar, then placed it on Tucker's shoulder dangerously close to his head."I just need you to scream."

He saw Sam trying to use her powers in the background, which unfortunately wasn't working because she's too used making exaggerated movements when using her plant powers, he remembers her saying that it makes it more easy to manipulate the greens around her, so she definitely had trouble controlling it while tied up, after all there was so little wrist movement to work with.

He sent a warning gaze to his Family and wife. to not make any sudden moves, which made Sam hesitantly stop, It was different with the batfam though they were really trying to be free from the ropes.

He returned his attention to joker, who was still waiting for an answer. "He's coming." was all he said, this only made joker grin, and the Bats confused. While Sam immediately got it.

Joker laughed fucking ugly laugh if Tucker said so himself, the rogue pointed at his new family's direction 'Who's he? can't you see new birdie they're all here no one's going to get you!"

And then Joker lifted his crowbar then struck down at Codelith's head, a awful sound resonated across the building, Fuck that's going to leave a nasty concussion. he felt blood dripping from his nose, as he heard the shouts and screams of the Bats and Sam. Oh Sam, I'm alright, Everything's okay, He can feel Foliahàrà's panic and anger from here.

Its okay, he's okay, because he's here.

Tucker grinned fucking grinned, like a villain type of grin. he looked up at Joker's direction and said:"He's here."

And then the wall blew up, making everyone in the warehouse startled, Here comes in the man itself. Fenton fucking Nightangle. with a smile plastered on his face he strutted in with full confidence, damn that's attractive Sam and Tucker agreed with each other.

"Joker." was all Fenton said, as he looked at the man with no emotion, his gaze landed on Sam then landed on Tucker who's blood was dripping on the floor, the only thing that Danny saw was green.

HURT?/PAIN?/IN DANGER.

"Mr. Fenton! are you also here to watch the show?"Joker grinned teeth showing and all. "It's such a pleasure for you to be her-"

Danny walked passed Joker, Never giving him a chance to finish, he focused his gaze infront of him and went towards Tucker and cupped his face making sure he wasn't hurt that much.

"Ah... ofcourse you would immediately go to them, so silly of me!"Joker laughed.

"What do you mean by that?" Batman asked suspicously, as he made sure the Fenton boy didn't hurt his new son.

"Don't tell me you don't know Batsy! gosh darn am I the one that'll say this so exciting." The irritating man chuckled. "Well if you didnt know Batman, Dr.Fenton, Foliahàrà, and Codelith are all married together!"

The Bats let out a gasp of surprise as they looked at the trio, who remained quiet.

"I know right! such a wonderful love story." Joker wiped a fake tear. "Too bad I have to kill you all, Dr. Fenton you might've taken the town in surprise by your so wonderful inventions, but you are nothing without your gadgets." Joker explained while twirling the crowbar in his hands.

Danny let out a chuckle, his back facing the green haired man. "I see that you've made some research about us Joker."

"Yes, you are quite right, I am married to Codelith and Foliahàrà, But there's something you've missed in your research." Fenton continued, he can hear Red robin in the background saying "I don't believe Codelith can pull two fine people." who was shushed by Nightwing.

"And what would that be? please entertain me Doctor." Joker grinned.

"My Hero name's Phantom." With that Danny made a slashing motion as he swiftly faced the Joker face to face, not even a second later half of the warehouse was engulfed by ice including Joker.

Hair white as now. skin pale as a paper, and eyes green as toxic radiation, he once again faced. The vigilantes with a smile and said:

"Well that was an eventful night, who wants Fudge?"

#dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dpdc #dp x dc prompt #dp x dc fanfic #dc x dp crossover #dc x dp #dpxdc fanart #dpxdc #mad scientist Danny #vigilante tucker #vigilante sam #plant powers Sam #Tucker with his sand powers #danny is nonbinary #everlasting trio

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randxmthxughts · 2 years ago

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Be Mine - Neteyam x Metkayina ! reader (fake dating)

summary: the one, where neteyam pretends to court the reader to avoid all of the nagging from his parents and a group of admirers. of course, it doesn’t take long for her to fall for him too

warnings: none really, pure fluff, fake dating trope, jealousy, loak x tsireya canon, events take place five years after the battle between the metkayina and the sky people, so aged up characters

wc: >12k

a/n: now that i finished writing this, i realized that i wrote an avatar version of bridgerton, lol </3 if you enjoy this, i love getting compliments and reblogs

masterlist

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everybody knew about Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, ever since his family first stepped into your village. His blue skin, golden eyes, and the strange tail, were easily the talk of almost every conversation among your peers. Yet, despite the obvious physical differences, there was always something about him that fascinated you, lured you in.

Many things changed after the Battle at the Three Brothers. With the help of your soul sisters and brothers Tulkuns, and joined by the great Toruk Makto, your Olo’yektan had an upper hand and a decisive victory over the sky people. It was a victory to be passed down in stories to your future generations and to be celebrated gloriously among the clan. This year was marking its fifth anniversary, with a big celebration that would last the whole night.

Since that battle, Neteyam has truly transformed into a man, earning approving and respectful looks from all around him. His forest upbringing never held Neteyam back from growing into his place among the Metkayina: his once slim shoulders broadened, matching the most skillful divers, height increased, and his muscles started showing without even flexing. In addition to his looks, his physical appearance never betrayed his personality. It seemed like Neteyam had the purest, kindest heart amongst all, always rushing to help the villagers with their chores, big and small; whether it meant fixing up a canoe, carrying baskets of food, or sometimes even babysitting, that is if he had time. His father was reluctant to stop the training with his sons, just in case of another attack from the sky people, so Neteyam rarely had any time for himself.

Guys wanted to be his friends, while the girls were fawning over him, hoping to become his mate. It was no secret that now, being of an age to pick the one for himself, parents’ sudden attention and admiring looks were following him everywhere. But Neteyam didn’t rush to choose.

Unlike his brother, Lo'ak seemed to have his life all figured out, especially when it came to matters of the heart. Falling for Tsireya, Lo’ak had many expectations to live up to, if he wanted to be with her. After all, she was the daughter of the chief, and a tsakarem, the future Tsahik of Metkayina. And while at first, Tsireya’s parents were hesitant of the bond she was forming with the forest boy, Lo’ak’s family spoke for himself. His father had played a significant role in the victory at the Three Brothers, providing guidance and knowledge that helped secure their win. Lo'ak also worked hard on himself to earn her parents’ approval. So the day, when Lo’ak finally returned home with Tsireya's necklace around his neck, a symbol of acceptance, was the day when Neteyam felt the weight on his shoulders double in size.

You were no different from the other girls adoring Neteyam, as you had also developed a crush on him during your teenage years. It was unavoidable, really. Before you grew out of your friendship with Tsireya, the two of you used to be quite close. So when the Sully’s first moved to Awa'atlu, and Tsireya was assigned to guide the kids, you were often hanging around them too.

But it was easy for you to accept that you were never going to be an equal match for Neteyam. He had many admirers who were stronger than you, more skilled, more talented, and had respected families. Everything came into the play, and you were losing at every aspect. So, you have successfully suppressed this silly crush for years, before you could finally push it to the very far back of your mind and forget about it. Instead, you occupied yourself with your learning.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Despite not being friends anymore, Tsireya and you have always maintained a polite demeanor towards each other. Now it did feel a little strange to be paired with her for the gathering of pxorna’ fruits, but you had to follow through. As per tradition, the entire clan was divided into groups to prepare for the upcoming celebration, and you were assigned to work together. Even though climbing tall trees wasn't exactly your strong suit as a water Na'vi, protesting wasn't an option: after all, the sweetest fruits were always at the very top. So, to make the task easier, you and Tsireya took turns climbing the trees and picking the fruits, then one would lower the bag for the other to catch and store into the big woven baskets provided. This method ensured that the bag wouldn't become too heavy for you to carry back down.

Ready to lower another batch of fruits, you call out to Tsireya to catch it. But instead of a response, all you can hear is her laughter. Surely enough, when you look down, you find her engrossed in a conversation with Lo’ak, completely ignoring you. You try to catch her attention one more time, before huffing under your breath, and deciding to climb down by yourself. You clutch the bag tightly against your chest, but as you get closer to the ground, some of the fruits start slipping out of your grip. Your hand reaches out instinctively to catch at least one, when you suddenly begin to lose your balance. You can almost imagine the damage to your back muscles, once you will hit the ground, when a pair of hands help you down on the ground.

“I got you,” you hear an accompanying voice.

“Thank you,” you blink in surprise, as you find Neteyam Sully to be your savior.

“You spilled some but they should be good,” he grins at you, as he crouches down and starts gathering the fruits from the ground.

Quietly, you empty your bag into the basket, throwing a glance at the other basket. It’s almost empty. You sigh out of frustration. There was still a lot of work to do, but Tsireya now seems to be completely distracted. At this rate, you’ll never finish.

“Lo’ak, that’s enough,” Neteyam grabs his brother by the shoulder, interrupting his chat with Tsireya. An amused smile creeps up on your face.

“Come on, bro, let’s stay,” Lo’ak gestures to the trees around him, “At least, there is work to do here. You know the area where Ronal sent us for fruit is dead.”

“I don’t care, if we have to gather fruits from the dead trees,” Neteyam tries to pull him but Lo’ak stands his ground, “Lo’ak, you know that whatever Ronal decides is not up to discussion.”

“Bro, we spent an hour climbing those trees for nothing,” Lo’ak points to the empty baskets they brought, “If we stay here, we can help out the girls and gather for ourselves too. No one has to know.”

“Neteyam, please,” Tsireya pleads.

“Ah, what the hell?” Neteyam shakes his head before breaking into a toothy grin, “But these baskets are gonna have to be full, Lo’ak.”

“Sure.”

You roll your eyes at how easily Neteyam agrees to the empty promise. You weren’t close with Lo’ak but even you knew how often he got into trouble for not keeping his word. It doesn’t take long to confirm your suspicion: while you and Neteyam are occupied with the task on hand, Lo’ak and Tsireya disappear from underneath the trees.

“Great,” you huffed, emptying yet another full bag into the basket.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help,” Neteyam says with a gentle tone.

You watch him empty out his bag into your basket too, instead of his.

“You don’t have to do that,” you feel guilty. Does he always work harder to overcompensate for Lo’ak’s behavior?

“I don’t mind.”

He takes it so light-heartedly, you wonder if it’s a daily occurrence. You stare off into the direction where Tsireya and Lo’ak had previously disappeared.

“Don’t you find it annoying?” you ask him curiously. Surely, even he must have his limits.

“They mean well, give them a break,” Neteyam chuckles, nudging your shoulder.

“You know if you keep covering for him all the time, he will never learn his lesson,” you shake your head, “Lo’ak will be the only adult who doesn’t know how to take care of simple chores.”

“He’s not that hopeless,” he laughs, finding your reaction amusing, “He’s just a kid in love.”

You don’t disagree with him, instead falling quiet. There was no place for you to talk about his brother’s behavior, you weren’t close.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be discussing your family matters like this.”

“No need to apologize, Y/N,” his gaze softens, “Besides, wouldn’t you prefer a forest Na’vi climbing the trees, instead of Tsireya? I promise I am much better at it.”

“Of course you are,” you return his smile.

The two of you get back to work, with mostly Neteyam picking the fruits, and you filling up the baskets. Despite your initial annoyance with Tsireya for leaving you, you seem to enjoy working with Neteyam way more. He’s quick and attentive, and you are grateful for him overtaking the climbing part, because you were always a little clumsy when it came to physical activities.

Soon enough, the baskets are nearly full, so you decide to regain your strength and take a break. Neteyam peels fruits for the both of you, and you sit under the trees, enjoying the shade.

“Hey, did you make that bag?” he suddenly points at the pocket attached to your belt. It was a small woven bag that you had on you all the time, in case you found beads or rocks you could put to use.

“I did.”

“It looks great,” Neteyam smiles, “I’m not surprised though. You always had golden hands.”

“That is not true,” you disagree.

“Are you joking?” his smile grows wider, “Y/N, you make the most beautiful items. I see people approaching you everyday for help. Do you know anybody else in the village who is as skilled at weaving as you?”

“Well…no,” you shake your head.

“Believe me, you really have a talent for it.”

It wasn’t just weaving that he was referring to. You were pretty handy when it came to making jewelry, also clothes, and headpieces. When you first indulged yourself in weaving, eager to learn to make beautiful pieces for yourself, you never expected that it would turn into a hobby. Your expertise soon expanded to other things too, like making resin weapons, toys, you even took up pottery. Eventually, people noticed and started approaching you with small tasks here and there, and you were glad to help out. But your clan didn’t have a name for your occupation, so you never considered yourself to fit into one.

“Remember the ceremonial belt you helped me make? It still holds up incredibly,” Neteyam reminds you with a toothy grin.

Of course you remember. It was exactly four years ago, when one night, Neteyam came to your marui, ears pressed flat against his skull in embarrassment. He had to explain the reason for his late visit in front of your parents, saying that he had only the night to make his ceremonial belt. It took you by surprise, because Neteyam wasn’t known for slacking off. He just didn’t think that it would be so difficult to make a damned belt. Scolded by his parents for not starting out sooner, he was then too embarrassed to ask them for help, so there he was instead, asking for yours. Having a soft spot for Neteyam, your parents allowed you to help him, despite the late hour. You two barely caught any sleep that night, working on the belt, making sure that it looked special, different from the other guys’. Neteyam watched your movements attentively, eager to learn, so sometimes you would pass the belt back to him to practice.

“I see you still wearing it sometimes,” you smile.

“You really helped me out back then, I was going to get skinned if I didn’t have a belt by the time for my ceremony,” he pauses, “I still owe you for that.”

“Nonsense, no one owes me anything. Neither do you,” you shake your head, “I like helping.”

“You can’t possibly help everyone with nothing in return.”

“I mean, people bring me food here and there,” you chuckle.

“No gifts?” he quirks his eyebrow.

“Not so much. I can make my own gifts,” you shrug, “But Mateä brings me seashells sometimes.”

“Seashells? Do you like those?”

“Oh, they make necklaces and cover ups look so lovely. Of course, they’re a little tricky to work with but it’s worth it,” you explain, “And Mateä always makes sure to bring the most beautiful shells he can find… Sometimes, he even lets me have the ones he picked for himself.”

You knew Mateä ever since you were kids. He was only a year older than you, but he was very mature for his age, way more than anyone you knew. Mateä was also one of the most skilled swimmers in your clan, which allowed him to swim outside of the perimeters and discover great depths. So whenever he had a small task for you, like fixing up his spear, or making an armor for his ilu, in return he would bring you the most unique-looking, colorful shells he could find.

“Why would Mateä pick shells for himself?” Neteyam squints.

"He probably just likes them," you shrug, "But there were times when he asked me to make a shell necklace for him, but then he would insist that I keep it for myself because he knew how much I liked it."

“So he makes you make your own gifts?” Neteyam snorts.

“Hey, that’s rude,” you give him a playful slap on the arm, “It doesn’t matter. I have many beautiful things thanks to him.”

“I’m only kidding… I just think that he might like you, that’s all.”

“Maybe.”

You don’t deny his accusation, partly because there is some truth to it. Mateä’s and your fathers were close friends, so they were quite happy with the possibility of you and him bonding some day. And while growing up there was no pressure on either side, the two of you had always felt that something might happen. You were never opposed to the idea anyway. Mateä was a good match for you: he was admired for his strength and swimming, and he was very respectful towards you. And even when you had your little crush on Neteyam, you still knew that Mateä was a more likely option. More recently though, you suspected that Mateä was eyeing you too. He just never made a move… not a direct one anyway.

“Is he taking you as his date to the celebration tonight?” Neteyam interrupts your thoughts.

“Are we supposed to bring dates?” you ask, teasing. Sure, some brought dates to celebrations to make their bonds known but it wasn’t a requirement.

“Exactly! My father wants me to bring a date, like this isn’t a celebration of a battle.” he emphasizes the last word with his thick accent, clearly annoyed.

“Why does he want you to bring a date?” you cock your head.

“Because I lied,” he blurts out, a guilty expression covering his face.

“Lied?”

“That I am courting someone,” he cringes, “Even though that someone doesn’t exist.”

“Why would you lie about courting someone nonexistent when you have dozens of girls ready to be swept away by you?” you stifle a laugh, “Especially Zìsmì.”

“Please don’t mention her,” Neteyam rolls his eyes, “I don’t mean to sound rude but Zìsmì is very persistent. I sometimes have to turn directions to avoid running into her.”

“That’s kind of mean,” you decide to tease him, saying that with a stern tone, like you mean it. Neteyam shifts uncomfortably.

“You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s rude of me to talk about her that way,” he begins to apologize but stops at the sound of your laughter.

“I’m only joking, Neteyam,” you tilt your head back, “Don’t worry, everyone knows how pushy Zìsmì can get. If the two of you were ever to become mates, she would dominate you completely.”

“Thank you!” he agrees eagerly, “Please tell that to my parents. They have been so persistent that I reciprocate her attention. I mean… just because she is a good hunter and has respected parents, doesn’t mean I click with her.”

“Is that why you lied?”

“Yeah… I just didn’t think it through. I only said it to get them off my back for a while,” he explains, his voice low, “But when I told them that I wanted to keep it a secret for a bit longer, they got too excited. So sometimes, they kick me out of the house to go on my secret dates.”

“Secret dates?”

“I kind of told them that the girl I’m courting hasn’t told her parents yet, that’s why we have to hide.”

“For a lie you didn’t think through, you sure had many details to add,” you’re amused by the clear regret on his face, “So they want to meet her tonight?”

“To confirm that I am not lying. After all, it’s been going for over a month now,” he sighs.

“A month?”

“I know, I’m going to get skinned,” Neteyam hides his face in his palms.

“Skinned by whom? Dad or Zismi?” Lo’ak’s voice interrupts your conversation.

Hand in hand, Tsireya and Lo’ak emerge from the trees and sit in front of you. She throws a concerned look at Neteyam.

“Dad, of course” Neteyam breathes out, still not lifting his head, “I can deal with Zìsmì later.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so,” Lo’ak smirks, “By the way, you owe me, bro. Zismi was going to invite you as her date tonight.”

“What?” Neteyam looks up at his brother, “How do you know?”

“Oh, she asked me in the morning. She was looking for you, and then told me that she wanted to invite you.”

“What did you say?”

“I told her that she shouldn’t because you already had a date,” he shrugs.

“Lo’ak,” Tsireya groans, disappointed, “Now your brother will have to apologize to her, once she catches on the lie.”

“I am so dead,” Neteyam grunts, “If I could only have a little more time to think about it, I’m sure I can figure it out. But it’s like she’s conspiring with my parents against me.”

“Maybe you just need to finally turn her down,” you suggest, earning a chuckle from Lo’ak, “What?”

“Neteyam and rejecting someone don't go in the same sentence. He would rather run and sneak around the village, than tell someone that they annoy him.”

“I just don’t find that type of conversation pleasant. Or necessary,” Neteyam objects.

“They are necessary if the person doesn’t get the hint,” Tsireya adds, “Remember when Nauru -”

“Please don’t remind me of Nauru,” Neteyam interrupts her with a pleading voice.

“What did Nauru do?” you ask, now curious.

“Oh, you don’t know?” a grin stretches on Lo’ak’s lips, “It was insane.”

“It’s not funny, Lo’ak,” Tsireya shushes him, turning to you, “At first, it was kind of sweet. Nauru would leave gifts for Neteyam by his marui. But there was this one time she left him flowers, and, of course, she didn’t know that some of those were poisonous. Neteyam almost lost a finger because of her. She would also follow him everywhere, even show up to his hunts, almost earning an arrow in her head by another hunter. It was getting out of hand, and Neteyam had to reject her directly and ask her to give up.”

“Enough about Nauru,” Neteyam groans, “What am I going to do now? Even if I do turn down Zismi, I’d still have mom and dad to deal with.”

“You’re right,” Lo’ak agrees, empathizing with his brother, “I’m sure you’ll like someone eventually, but we both know how impatient our parents can get.”

The four of you fall silent for a moment, contemplating a solution to Neteyam's situation. But somewhere deep down in your heart, you feel a little relieved that he didn’t have his eye set on anyone yet. You are also partially grateful to your parents for not pressuring you in the same way. It must be hard having the Toruk Makto for your father.

“I know what to do to win more time, Neteyam!” Tsireya excitedly interrupts your thought process, “Remember the time Ao’nung asked Sìlälaw to play along, as if he was courting her?”

“That was pretend?” you ask. Surely, you missed out on a lot of things by not being friends with Tsireya anymore.

“Of course,” she says, like it’s obvious, “Before finding his mate, Ao’nung was getting scolded everyday by our mom and dad. So, he asked Sìlälaw to help him out, pretend like he was following her around, and she just didn’t like him back.”

“I don’t have time for that,” Neteyam shakes his head.

“No, hear her out, bro,” Lo’ak holds up his palm, “It worked once, right? Mom and dad stopped bothering you, when you lied about courting someone. Just show up this once, with anyone, and that’s it.”

“And afterwards?”

“Just lie,” Lo’ak exclaims, “Say that it didn’t work out or something, who cares.”

“And when it doesn't ‘work out��,” Tsireya chimes in, “You can win some more time by being ‘heartbroken’ and ‘not ready’ to pursue another girl yet.”

“It seems so excessive,” you comment, considering the plan, “Isn’t it easier to tell the truth?”

“The truth doesn’t work,” Neteyam lets out a painful chuckle, then turns to his brother, “Where would I even find someone to agree?”

“Now that’s tough,” Lo’ak hums, “Half of the girls are swooning over you, you’ll never hear the end of it.”

“What about Y/N?” Tsireya points at you.

“What about me?” you raise your eyebrows, confused.

“You don’t care for Neteyam like that,” she starts explaining, “And, you’ve had Mateä running after you for years now, but he still hasn’t even asked you out yet. Maybe if he sees you with Neteyam for one night, it’ll make him jealous and finally give him the push he needs.”

Neteyam snorts, like it’s an unlikely possibility.

“Mateä is never going to act out of jealousy, he’s not like that,” you object, “What if he stops speaking to me afterwards?”

“Then we will send Neteyam to talk to him. Neteyam will tell him that he’s heartbroken over you, and that you rejected him for Mateä,” Lo’ak chimes in, “He will dig for some information, nudge Mateä to confess to you. It’s so easy, like it was written in the stars.”

You can’t really find a flaw in Lo’ak’s suggestion. Maybe receiving a confirmation about your feelings is just the thing Mateä’s waiting for.

“Still, I’m not crazy. Do you even know how much pressure it would be to face all those girls?”

“Right, I shouldn’t be putting Y/N into such a position,” Neteyam supports your point.

“Y/N doesn’t have to face them at all. You can turn down those girls easily because you’ll have a perfect excuse. They would be too embarrassed to approach Y/N.”

“I guess,” Neteyam hums, “What do you think, Y/N? I mean, no pressure, but I would owe you for the rest of my life.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug your shoulders. It just feels icky.

“Come on, Y/N, for the sake of our past friendship,” Tsireya pleads with you.

“Okay… it’s just for one night, right?” you agree. It wasn’t.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your chest, when Neteyam takes your hand in his. You take in a deep breath, heading towards the celebration with him. Lo’ak and Tsireya walk ahead of you.

It feels odd to be wearing Neteyam’s necklace instead of your own. That was the courtesy of Tsireya, who was convinced that once anyone saw you two exchange your necklaces, they would be convinced that the courting was serious.

“I’m scared,” you admit through your teeth.

“Thank you again,” Neteyam whispers, squeezing your hand.

“Come on, guys,” Lo’ak turns to the two of you with an excited smile, “Act natural, okay?”

You nod your head but you’re not sure how you’re going to survive through the night. The closer you get to the celebration, the more people start noticing you. Hushed voices and gasps is all that catches your attention, even though Neteyam walks right beside you. Why does everyone look so surprised? You almost feel offended by the looks you get. Were Neteyam and you really that incompatible?

The four of you take a seat around a small fire, pairs of eyes watching your every moment. You can’t help but sense Neteyam’s nervousness traveling down his body.

“You alright?” you whisper.

“Not really,” he admits, “Have you seen my parents yet?”

As you scan the crowd of Na'vi dancing and singing, your eyes land on Neytiri talking to someone. Jake stands beside her but his attention seems to be elsewhere, as he occasionally looks around him. Both of them are wearing celebratory clothing that is slightly more elaborate than any of yours. After all, it was a testament to their importance in the victorious battle.

“It looks like your father is looking for you.”

“Shit,” Neteyam lets out, nervously. You can’t help but laugh at his reaction.

“Keep it up,” Tsireya says, “The more relaxed you seem, the more believable this will look.”

She gestures at the two of you, and as you look down, you notice how close you and Neteyam are pressed to each other. It’s like you’re trying to hide from the attention you’re getting.

It’s not long before you catch Mateä watching you from afar. Your heart beats faster, when his eyes travel to your hand still intertwined with Neteyam’s. He gulps down, and you wonder if he feels jealous.

“Mateä’s looking,” Neteyam points out, “You want to take it up by a notch?”

“What do you mean?” you turn your face to him, confused.

There is a hint of playfulness in Neteyam’s eyes before he slowly leans in, his mouth close to your ear. You shudder under his breath.

“Pretend I said something funny, and laugh,” he whispers.

“I can’t pretend to laugh,” you whisper back, annoyed, “Can’t you just tell me something funny?”

Neteyam pulls back slightly to look at you. There is an amused smile resting on his face.

“We’re really bad at this, aren’t we?”

“You think?” you quirk your eyebrow at him, earning a small laugh from him.

“Okay, this can work too,” he says. You can’t help but smile at him.

But when you check for Mateä again, he’s nowhere to be found. Your smile drops. What if you hurt him? As if sensing your sudden change in mood, Neteyam gently squeezes your hand.

"Are you alright?" he asks, “Is Mateä still looking?”

“No, I think he walked away,” you mumble, standing up, “I’m going to get us something to drink, okay?”

“Alright,” Neteyam mumbles back, watching you leave.

“Are you crazy?” Lo’ak slaps Neteyam on the arm, “Go with her, or they’re gonna eat her up alive.”

Following Lo’ak’s gaze, Neteyam sees Zìsmì with her friends. He quickly gets to his feet to follow you but you have already disappeared in the crowd.

“Y/N,” Zìsmì’s voice catches your attention.

Sighing, you turn around to face her. She has a coy smile on her lips, as she takes you in from head to toe. You wait for her to talk.

“The necklace, did you make that yourself?” Zismi points to your neck, pretending as if she didn’t recognize it right away.

“It looks a lot like Neteyam’s necklace,” one of her friends says, before you could even open your mouth.

“That’s a little weird,” Zismi comments.

“You have a good eye, it is Neteyam’s necklace,” you gather as much confidence as you can, watching their expressions change, “He gave it to me.”

“Why would he give you his necklace?” Zismi scoffs.

“Because I wanted to see it on her,” you suddenly hear Neteyam’s voice, as he appears next to you, “Everything Y/N touches, basically turns into a lucky charm.”

The girls stare at Neteyam, their eyes widened. Again, you feel a little offended. Why is everyone so surprised that he likes you? Before you can react, Neteyam gently pulls you by your hand.

“We have to go, girls,” he throws with his most polite smile.

Feeling their stares like daggers in your back, Neteyam moves closer to you and wraps his arm around your waist protectively, leading you away from the prying eyes.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have left you alone,” he cranes his neck to whisper.

“It’s alright, I’m not scared of Zismi,” you turn to look at him, “Unlike you.”

“Very funny,” Neteyam rolls his eyes.

His arm is still firmly wrapped around your waist, as the two of you continue walking. The warmth of his body against yours feels almost comforting, despite the curious glances you receive. Neteyam seems to notice it too, as he tightens his grip on you, pulling you a little closer to him.

"Just ignore them," there is a hint of annoyance in his voice. You wonder if it’s bothering him more than you.

As you get closer to the big fire, you hear a loud cheer erupt from the crowd. Instinctively, you want to find out what’s happening. A chuckle of disbelief escapes from your mouth, when you see Neytiri and Jake dancing around the fire, to the fast rhythm of the drums. While Neytiri’s movements are gracious and fluid, Jake’s are… Well, Jake is trying his best. She throws her head back in laughter, when he makes an awkward movement, but no one else dares to laugh at the Toruk Makto, except for his mate. Suddenly, he sweeps Neytiri up into his arms and twirls her around the fire. The Na’vi cheer them on and on, clapping their hands in amusement.

You join in on the clapping, caught up in their infectious joy. When you turn to look at Neteyam, however, you notice that he's cringing.

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

“They are acting like little kids,” Neteyam huffs.

“I think it’s sweet,” you nudge him with a smile, “Loosen up, Neteyam.”

“How can I?” he rolls his eyes at you.

“If your father can relax for one night, so can you,” you push him into the circle, with a loud shout, “Dance, Neteyam!”

Neteyam stands frozen for a moment, clearly embarrassed by your sudden action. His ears lower, and he tries to step out of the circle, but Lo’ak nudges him back in. The music picks up and the crowd cheers louder, but Neteyam stands still, clearly irritated by your behavior.

You can’t watch him anymore, so you jump to his rescue, and take his hands in yours. He tries to resist at first, but it doesn’t take much convincing on your part to get him to loosen up. As you embarrass yourself with the silly movements and faces you make, you finally coax a smile out of him. You don’t care about the others watching you, you only focus on getting him to dance with you. Soon enough, Neteyam’s confidence grows, and he starts to move more freely to the rhythm with you. You hold onto his hands, feeling the warmth of his touch, and beam with adoration as you watch him give in.

Other couples start joining in, and the circle becomes more crowded. People start pressing closer, pushing you and Neteyam towards each other, with barely any space left. His hands instinctively find your waist, yours rest on his biceps, holding him in place. You’re not sure whether it’s the heat of the fire, or it’s just him, but you feel warmer and warmer, every time his eyes meet yours.

“You okay?” you smile, noticing drops of sweat rolling down his face, “It’s too hot here.”

Before he can answer, you lead him out of the crowd. You catch a look from your parents’ from afar, and can only roll your eyes at them. You know they were going to question you about tonight but you don’t want to think about it for now. At least they don’t seem to be mad?

Distracted, you turn around, nearly colliding with Neteyam's parents. They look a little lightheaded, and you suspect they've had a drink made from the pxorna' fruits you gathered earlier. Quickly, you bow low and bring your fingers to your forehead in greeting. Neteyam shifts uncomfortably beside you.

“Son… and Y/N,” Jake looks between the two of you with an approving smile.

“Y/N, are you the one Neteyam was hiding from us?” Neytiri asks curiously.

“Mom,” Neteyam tenses up, “Let’s not make her uncomfortable, please.”

Neteyam looks so stressed, you wonder how his parents believed his lies in the first place. Maybe they were blinded by the excitement?

“We’re just glad that it’s been her this whole time,” Jake says, smiling at you, “You’re very talented, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you reply, shying away from the compliment.

“We were worried that Neteyam was lying just to avoid us,” Neytiri explains.

Neteyam and you chuckle nervously, hoping that this isn’t her smart way of cracking you.

“Are your parents aware?” she asks, scanning the crowd. You quickly draw her attention back to you.

“They are now… I am sorry that Neteyam had to keep this a secret from you, that was my wish,” you lie, “It is just that my mother likes rushing into many things, and I still needed some time to get to know Neteyam.”

You weren’t completely off; your mother did have a tendency to rush into things. If she had known that you were open to dating Mateä, she would have already told him by now.

“No need to apologize,” Jake chimes in, “If anything, I feel bad for forcing your hand.”

“You should feel bad,” Neteyam grunts but you can sense that he’s holding back from saying more.

“It’s alright, I’m happy to be here tonight with Nete,” you pat Neteyam on the back.

Dropping a nickname seems to be just enough to convince them. You notice the satisfied smiles settle on their faces.

“Ma’Jake, let’s leave them alone. After all, it’s their first outing as mates,” Neytiri murmurs, pulling Jake by his hand.

“We’re not mated yet,” Neteyam cringes, but she only finds it amusing.

“It is only a matter of time, you are your father’s son after all.”

As the two of them walk away, laughing, Neteyam takes a deep breath to calm himself down. You can sense how embarrassed he feels, knowing what you heard. But you didn’t mind it all, he has no reason to be this upset.

“Are you okay?” you nudge him but Neteyam refuses to look at you, “Hey, don’t be like that.”

“I just...I didn’t think it would be this hard,” he admits, looking down.

“What would be hard? Pretending to be in love with me?” you tease, craning your neck to see his face.

“No,” he doesn’t even crack a smile, “I’m sorry for getting you into this mess.”

“You don’t have to apologize, I am enjoying this,” you take his hand in yours, finally getting him to look at you, “Besides, we’re almost done, right?”

“Right,” he nods.

“Now, come on, pretend that I said something funny and laugh,” you playfully repeat his words. Neteyam's lips twitch into a smile before he breaks into a genuine chuckle, causing your heart to skip a beat. You love the sound of his laughter.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“You two look so good together, I am not ready for this to be over yet,” Tsireya beams, as she plops down in front of Neteyam and you. Lo’ak follows her suit.

“Maybe you should keep it up for a little longer, bro. The way you were dancing - “ Lo’ak starts to imitate Neteyam’s dancing but Neteyam slaps him.

“Stop that, skxawng.”

“Just ignore him, Neteyam, you were great out there,” Tsireya says softly.

“Seriously, being less tense suits you,” you agree, noticing Neteyam hiding a shy smile.

“I got to admit, it wasn’t bad at all,” Lo’ak straightens up, “I just haven’t seen you dance since Naye.”

“Let it go, Lo’ak,” Neteyam grunts.

“Who’s Naye?”

“Neteyam’s first crush from back home,” Lo’ak snickers, enjoying how far he can push his brother, “Neteyam was so in love with her, he couldn't even talk to her. So this one time, during a celebration, he decided to express his feelings by dancing for her.”

“Well, what did she say?” your ears perk up in anticipation.

“She just pretended like it wasn’t happening and walked away,” Lo’ak breaks into laughter.

“That’s not funny,” Tsireya covers Lo’ak’s mouth with her hand, “It’s alright, Neteyam, we all had our share of silly teenage crushes.”

She unintentionally throws you a knowing look, for support, but Lo’ak immediately catches on.

“Who did Y/N have a crush on?” he asks.

You stiffen, feeling their gazes intensifying on you.

“It doesn’t matter now,” you try to switch the topic but Lo’ak doesn’t seem to give up.

“It shouldn’t matter then, if you say it,” he pushes, “It can’t be that bad.”

You let out a sigh, knowing that you won't be able to get out of this.

“I used to have a crush on Neteyam,” you admit as laughter erupts.

You shoot daggers at Lo’ak, who is now rolling in the sand, while Tsireya tries to cover up her laughter. You turn to Neteyam, who looks at you with a shy smile on his face.

“Before you say anything, I feel like I should clear this,” you hold up your hand, “It was just a fleeting crush before I got to know you. And it disappeared. So please don’t feel uncomfortable.”

“So you’re saying your crush disappeared right after you got to know him?” Lo’ak asks, another wave of laughter hitting him. Shit. That’s not how you wanted it to sound.

Neteyam only rolls his eyes at his brother, while Tsireya tries her best to keep a straight face.

“I’m sorry, we just sneaked some of the pxorna’ juice,” she explains.

“I can tell,” you grit through your teeth. You have now truly understood the embarrassment Neteyam felt a moment ago.

“Y/N, please don’t take this to heart,” Tsireya rests her palm on your thigh, “Who cares what happened five years ago? We know you’re interested in Mateä now anyway.”

“Yeah,” Neteyam clears his throat, agreeing, “It was a silly crush, right? It’s all in the past now.”

You nod, but you can't shake off the feeling of unease. You couldn’t help but wonder if Neteyam was relieved that he didn't have to reject one more girl, or if he was secretly disappointed that you were interested in Mateä instead of him.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When Neteyam asked you to keep up the fake courting till the hunting festivities to make his heartbreak more believable, you agreed. The festivities were supposed to begin only in a few weeks, to mark the beginning of the hunting season, so you thought it wasn’t a big deal. You could wait. Besides, it seemed like things were looking up for the two of you.

Neteyam was finally getting some time for himself. His father had started to ease up on him, cutting short his training. Knowing that Neteyam was supposedly courting you, Jake wanted to give his son a chance to focus on that.

The past few months had been so tough on Neteyam both physically and mentally, that all he wanted to do was rest and recharge. So he would often use that free time to drop by your marui and ask to take naps on your floor, while you were working on whatever project you had. Since your parents were mostly out, letting you work in peace, Neteyam’s quiet snoring was no burden. And if anyone was visiting you to ask for help with their items, they would only throw an amused look at sleeping Neteyam and leave you two alone, helping you keep up your fake image without much effort. Sometimes, you would catch yourself watching him too, admiring the peaceful expression on his face, as he slept. Of course, this didn’t escape your parents’ attention, as they were peppering you with questions about Neteyam’s intentions almost every night. But you mostly ignored their inquiries, focused on the simple pleasure of being able to help Neteyam.

Slowly, the girls who used to fawn over Neteyam not too long ago also started to lose their interest. Especially with Zismi's parents informing Neytiri that they were considering another match for their daughter. Neteyam felt relieved by the idea that he didn’t have to reject anyone anymore.

On the other hand, you started noticing more efforts from Mateä. Even though you feared that he wouldn’t act out of jealousy, Mateä seemed to be persistent in seeing you more often than he usually did. Whenever you went for a swim, he was right there with you, trying his best to make you laugh. Whenever you would carry a heavy basket, Mateä sprung to your side to help. Not to mention the beautiful seashells he started to bring you without particular reason. It seemed like any day now, Mateä was going to confess his feelings for you. Neteyam didn’t seem particularly pleased whenever he witnessed your interactions, but you only assumed it was an act.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As you rounded the corner to your marui, you suddenly spotted Neteyam pacing around it. You hesitated to approach him as you could hear him mumbling something under his breath. It was almost like he was practicing some sort of speech. Instead, you carefully lowered yourself into the water and swam closer to your home, hiding just underneath. You were close enough to hear him and avoid being seen. You weren’t going to eavesdrop for long, you just wanted to find out what he’s doing before revealing yourself.

Neteyam suddenly stopped talking, and for a second, you thought that he had spotted you. That is until, Mateä came into your view, stopping by the entrance to your marui. You watch quietly, as the two of them exchange a brief greeting.

“Is Y/N here?” Mateä gestures to the marui, but Neteyam shakes his head, “Oh, I guess I thought she’d be here with you.”

“Why would she be with me?” Neteyam asks, with a slight annoyance in his voice.

“Aren’t you courting her?” Mateä asks, confused, “Or are those just rumors?”

“No, it’s true,” Neteyam seems to get his act back together. For a second, you were worried he would accidentally reveal something, “But Y/N is not tied to me every minute of the day, so…”

“So it is true that you’re not mated yet,” Mateä mumbles under his breath.

“Did you have something to pass to her?” Neteyam asks impatiently, crossing his arms over his chest. What is he doing?

“Actually, I'd prefer to give it to her myself," Mateä matches his tone, clearly not liking the possessiveness Neteyam radiates.

“If it’s another thing you want her to make for you, she’s been busy lately,” Neteyam scoffs.

“It’s not a task, I brought her a gift.”

“Let me guess, more seashells?” Neteyam rolls his eyes. What is wrong with him?

“That’s right, I know how much she likes those,” Mateä steps forward.

Seemingly unfazed, Neteyam takes a step forward as well. You shift, thinking of interrupting them before things start to escalate. But Mateä doesn’t seem to be in the mood for an argument. Instead, he brushes past Neteyam towards your marui.

"I'll leave them on her table. Tell her I brought them for her when she comes back," Mateä says over his shoulder. "Actually, don’t bother. She'll know they're from me anyway."

Neteyam watches in annoyance as Mateä disappears into your marui. You can almost hear him exhale loudly, trying to calm himself down. Maybe Neteyam’s just having a hard day today, you think. Perhaps something to do with his father? When Mateä comes back out, he leaves without a word.

Quietly, you swim to the back of your marui, and get out of the water. You pause before rounding the corner, and approaching Neteyam. Upon seeing you, he forces a small smile.

“Neteyam,” you greet him.

“Hey, Y/N,” he scratches the back of his head, nervous.

“Are you here for another nap?” you tease him, proceeding into your marui.

“Actually… no,” he follows you in.

You hum, waiting for him to elaborate, as you start taking out some of the supplies you gathered from your bag. It’s then that your eye catches the beautiful green shells laid out on your table. Neteyam stands awkwardly by the wall, watching your reaction.

“Who brought those?” you turn to ask him.

“Mateä,” Neteyam answers, “I forgot to mention. He was here earlier to see you.”

“Too bad I missed him,” you say, testing his reaction, “But it’s weird that he hasn’t asked me out yet. What do you think? You’re a guy.”

Neteyam has to physically restrain himself from cringing at your words. It takes him a second to regain his calmness, before putting on that fake voice he uses around his father.

“It is weird. He should have asked you out a long time ago.”

“Maybe he just doesn’t like me enough,” you turn your attention back to the shells.

“Nonsense. He’s just a coward,” you hear him scoff.

Surprised, you look at Neteyam again, studying his face. There is a mix of frustration and shame on his face. It's hard to tell if he's getting possessive over you, or if there's something else that's bothering him.

"Is everything okay?" you ask softly, trying to gauge his reaction, “You seem to have a problem with Mateä.”

"Everything's fine. Just... he always seems to hang around you lately," he says, his voice trailing off.

“Well, wasn’t that kind of the point?” you gesture between the two of you, referring to the fake courting.

“I guess,” Neteyam hums, you wait for him to continue, “I just don’t like that he acts like a coward.”

“Maybe if you stop scaring him away…” you mumble under your breath, but he’s quick to catch it.

“You don’t want someone who is so easily intimidated anyway.”

You don’t respond, confused by his behavior. Quietly, you start painting the pot you left unfinished last night. Neteyam falls silent too, watching you. He can’t understand what you see in Mateä. It just doesn't make sense to him. Neteyam also can’t understand why Mateä hasn’t made a move yet. Does he want you to choose him over Neteyam first? Or was he giving you other options, so you don’t have any regrets afterwards?

“You said you wanted something?” you interrupt his thoughts.

“Um, right,” he clears his throat, “It’s kind of awkward.”

You put down the pot and turn to face him, suspecting that it is going to be something good.

“What is it?”

“Well… apparently we’re not convincing enough,” he looks down at his feet, awkwardly, “People think that it’s just a rumor, that I’m courting you.”

“A rumor?” you frown, “But we’re hanging out all the time.”

Is he referring to Mateä’s words? Surely, if there was a rumor like that, Tsireya would have mentioned it to you a long time ago. She was keeping you updated.

“No one ever sees us together outdoors, not after the celebration,” his voice gets a little higher, “I was just thinking that we could take it up by a notch?”

“Well, what did you have in mind?” you tilt your head, curious. Neteyam’s eyes widen at your quick agreement.

“I take you on a date?”

“A date?” you smile, “Alright.”

A toothy grin spreads across Neteyam’s face at your response, causing your cheeks to flush with heat. You can't help but wonder if the two of you were getting too involved in this, and whether it was going to get in your way. But you can't deny the excitement you feel at the prospect of a date with Neteyam. Even if it’s a pretend one.

“What should I wear?”

“Anything pretty, and don’t worry about ruining it. I won’t take you into the water,” he says confidently, like he has everything planned out already.

“Okay,” you agree, reaching for one of the shell-necklaces you made for yourself. You raise your hand to show it to him, “How about this?”

“Hmm,” Neteyam pretends to think about it, as he leans against the wall.

You watch him with an amused smile stretching your lips. You rarely get to see a playful side of Neteyam but you love it when he acts like this.

“I think I have to see it on, to decide,” he finally says his verdict, before cracking a smile.

You roll your eyes but comply anyway, walking up to him and shoving the necklace into his hands. As you turn around and move your hair out of the way, Neteyam carefully begins to tie the necklace around your neck. You can feel his hands shake slightly, as he takes his time. When he’s done, and you turn to face him, Neteyam is standing too close to you.

“Do you like it?” you meet his eyes, unable to put a distance between you.

“I do,” he breathes out.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Hey, Y/N, just dropping by for that pot. If it’s ready,” Tsireya walks into your marui, catching you off guard.

You had just put on a delicate pearly top you’ve made for yourself a while ago, and were trying to see if the ties in the back were in place. Tsireya gasps at the sight of you, bringing her hands to her mouth.

“Did you make that?!” she beams at you, “You look beautiful, Y/N, it suits you so much!”

“You think? Not too much?” you quirk your eyebrow, pushing her for the truth.

“Not at all,” she answers with a knowing look, “Are you going to see Mateä?”

“No, not Mateä,” you shake your head. Tsireya looks at you confused, and you suddenly feel awkward having to explain yourself, “Neteyam wanted us to have a fake date somewhere public.”

“Oh,” that’s all she says.

It’s easy to see when something is bothering her. After all, you have been friends for a long time, you knew Tsireya like the back of your hand.

“Just say it,” you urge her to speak.

“I just think that you shouldn’t drag this out for so long.”

“But Neteyam kind of needs me to keep playing into it,” you explain yet she doesn’t seem convinced, “Besides, Mateä has been showing more interest recently, so it works for both of us.”

“It doesn’t work for you and Mateä,” Tsireya disagrees, “You need to drop this, and Neteyam has to speak to Mateä before it’s too late.”

You don’t answer, considering her words. Tsireya is right, perhaps you should wrap this thing up. It was only supposed to be for one night, right?

“Unless… you like him?” Tsireya looks at you, suspiciously.

“Who?” your voice hitches.

“Seems like you’re starting to like Neteyam again,” Tsireya lets out with a sigh. She hated keeping things from you, but she also couldn’t lie.

Your cheeks flush with embarrassment. Deep down, you suspect that she might be right. Neteyam was quickly starting to work his way back into your heart.

“I am just helping him out, Tsireya. There’s nothing between us,” you lie.

“I just think that this is not worth it… you and Mateä can have something really great.”

“The pot is ready, right over there,” you point to your table.

Tsireya throws an apologetic look at you, and picks up the pot, thanking you. She senses that you don’t want to talk about Neteyam anymore, and decides to give you time to think.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Neteyam?” you frown, as he keeps gawking at you, without a word.

It has been a few moments since he saw you walking out of your marui, and he still hasn't said anything. You begin to feel anxious about your appearance. Is it too revealing? Are the pearls too much? You just wanted to look like you were going on a date.

"You look like a beautiful syulang," he finally breathes out, admiring your look.

“You mean it?” you take a step closer to him.

“I do, you look very pretty,” he confirms, but takes a step back. You notice that he keeps his hands behind his back, as if he's trying to hide something.

"Thank you," you reply, "What do you have back there?"

“Uh, I brought this for you,” he says, bringing forward something wrapped in a large green leaf.

You can't see what's inside, but you assume it's fragile, given how carefully he held it. As you take it from him and begin to unwrap, Neteyam observes your every move with anticipation.

"You really didn't have to bring me anything, Neteyam," you say, meeting his gaze for a moment, “It's not like a real date anyway.”

"I wanted to," he responds shyly.

As the wrapping comes undone, you see a handful of small, delicate yellow flowers. They're unlike anything you've ever seen before, petals shaped in a unique swirl in the ends. As you bring them closer to examine, you gawk back at Neteyam.

"Let me show you something," he smiles.

Without waiting for your permission, Neteyam takes your hand in his, opening your palm and holding it above the flowers, throwing a shade. The yellow flowers begin to glow with a soft, natural luminescence.

“How come I’ve never seen these!” you beam, earning a satisfied grin from him, “This is very special, thank you.”

“I’m not a very good diver, so I can’t get you those shells you like,” he confesses, “But I saw these glowing at the top of the mountain when I was flying last night, so I went back for them this morning because I thought you might like them.”

“I don’t need you to bring me shells, Neteyam, these are very special,” you carefully pull him in for a hug with your free hand, trying not to squish the flowers. As Neteyam wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you closer, you close your eyes in comfort.

You were already thinking of ways to preserve the flowers, perhaps gathering some resin, and making jewelry out of them. Or something for your hair? Your marui?

“I’ll put them into water, so that they don’t die by the time I get back,” you say, pulling back from Neteyam.

“Don’t worry, I can always bring you more,” he smiles.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Pretending with Neteyam had become effortless. As you strolled along the beach, Neteyam and you were just talking, catching up on the things that happened in the past years. Occasionally, you would make him laugh, and it warmed your heart to see him happy like that, carefree. Whenever you would notice someone watching you, Neteyam would ask you to hold hands with him to appear more serious. You agreed, of course, but Tsireya’s words were slowly weighing on you. You were letting it yourself get too invested, meanwhile Neteyam was only pretending.

As he walked you back to your marui, you could sense his growing nervousness.

“I think my neighbors are watching us,” you whisper with a smile, coming to a halt in front of the entrance.

“Are they big on gossip?” Neteyam leans in slightly, like he’s about to tell you a secret.

“Oh, very big,” you chuckle, “They are always asking my mother about you.”

“Maybe we should give them something to talk about,” he gulps down, bringing his face closer to you.

As Neteyam's eyes lock onto yours, you suddenly feel your heart race. You can't deny the tension between you, but you also can't ignore the possibility of this causing more trouble than it's worth. The thought of rumors spreading around the village about you and Neteyam kissing makes your stomach churn. Maybe this is too far.

“What do you mean, Neteyam?” you manage to ask, captivated by his eyes.

“Can I kiss you?” he whispers, so quietly, like he’s going to scare you away.

“It wouldn’t be a proper date without a kiss,” you mumble. It was supposed to be a joke, a snarky comment, but you sounded so desperate, so impatient to feel him.

Neteyam only nods, his gaze fixed on your lips. He leans in, then hesitates, as if asking for one last permission. You tilt your head slightly, your heart racing in your chest. And when he finally closes the distance between you, you feel his soft, gentle lips on yours. It's so delicate and slow that it feels like a dream, intimate and special.

When you pull away, you notice a small smile resting on his lips. You can’t help but shy away from his gaze, taking a step back.

“Well, I think that was convincing enough,” you joke, trying to sound nonchalant about it.

“Thank you for tonight, Y/N,” he says, straightening up, “Have a sound sleep.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Your sleep wasn’t sound at all. You tossed and turned on your mat throughout the night, much to the annoyance of your parents. Your eyes kept being drawn to the bowl of flowers, casting a soft glow in the darkness. It reminded you of stupid Neteyam, of his stupid lips, and stupid captivating golden eyes that glowed the same way under the moonlight. You couldn't get him out of your head, and it was starting to drive you crazy.

Tsireya's warning echoed in your mind - this pretend relationship with Neteyam was going too far. You knew you had to have a serious conversation with him and move on with the final stage of the plan: turn him down. If not, you could ruin your chances of finding a real relationship. Without Neteyam.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Early in the morning, with a determined stride, you make your way to the beach, where you spot Neteyam, training with his father and a group of guys. You don’t think through what you’re going to do, when Jake suddenly notices you.

“Good morning, Y/N,” he says, drawing everyone’s attention to you, “Anything I can help you with?”

You greet them, and gulp down, easily finding Neteyam’s curious gaze on you. Well, you have come so far, why not just get it over with?

“Can I speak to Neteyam for a moment? It won’t take long,” you turn to Jake.

Jake purses his lips, but nods at Neteyam, giving him a sign to go. He approaches you with a worried look on his face.

“Is something wrong?”

“No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt your training,” you apologize.

Neteyam obliges, when you lead him away from the beach, to talk in private. It’s still early, so most of the clan is asleep. You feel nervous under his patient gaze but you know it has to be done.

“I wanted to talk to you about us,” you begin. Neteyam nods, encouraging you to go on, “I know there’s still a week until the hunting festivities, and I promised to help you till then, but I don’t think I can.”

Neteyam’s eyes widen slightly, but he remains calm.

“Do you want us to stop pretending?” he asks softly.

“Yes, I think it’s for the best if we stop now. If we keep going on dates and…kissing, it might give people the wrong idea, and I don’t want that,” you answer, trying to keep your voice steady.

He looks down at his hands for a moment, thinking. You don’t interrupt him. He’s probably just trying to come up with the best way of telling his parents. He doesn’t seem saddened that he won’t be forced to spend time with you anymore. You’re the idiot who fell for her fake boyfriend.

“I understand, Y/N,” Neteyam finally says, meeting your eyes, “Thank you for helping me so far.”

“It’s fine,” you let out a breath, “Then it is decided. And Neteyam…we have to keep our distance from now on.”

Neteyam watches, as you walk away with a mixture of feelings. You're relieved, yet also disappointed that the fake relationship is over. You can't help but wonder if things could have been different between you and Neteyam, if only circumstances were different.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The following days seem to stretch with a painful slowness. You feel lost, with a constant sense of longing that follows you like a shadow. The realization that you had fallen head over heels for Neteyam and can’t be with him hits you hard. You feel stupid but you can't help thinking about him all the time, trying to carry on with your day-to-day tasks. But it seems like everything is taking more effort than it used to.

Every now and then, you catch a glimpse of Neteyam from afar, and he looks just as sad as you feel. You can't help but wonder if he's just putting on a show for the sake of the rumors, to make it believable. You wish you could just talk but avoiding him is the right thing to do for now.

And as suspected, it doesn’t take long for rumors about you turning him down to start spreading throughout the clan. People notice that you two aren’t spending time together anymore and are avoiding each other. It is ironic, how they think that it's Neteyam going through a heartbreak, when in reality it is you.

When Tsireya comes to congratulate you on the successful plan, she tells you that Mateä has heard the rumors and was preparing to confess to you. But you don’t want Mateä anymore. Instead of sharing Tsireya’s excitement, you can’t hold back any longer, and break down in front of her, confessing your true feelings for Neteyam. It is freeing to finally let it out, to have someone to confide in. As she comforts you, it feels like you are friends again, if only for a moment.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You got ready a long time ago. Your hair decorated with feathers and beads, face painted with white ceremonial patterns. In a few hours you would be joining the rest of the clan, to wish a farewell to the Metkayina hunters. The Tsahik would bless them with a prayer to Eywa, and after you sing your songs, the young men will leave. It was a tradition in your clan, that at the beginning of each year, the young hunters would travel by the water to an unfamiliar land. It was a test that every hunter had to pass, to learn to adapt in every situation and be able to stand for himself and for his allies. Sometimes, it would take them a few days to return back with a prey. Sometimes, it would last a full moon. It depended on Eywa’s guidance, and the hunters couldn’t return without receiving a blessing first.

Despite the value it held, the passage was still dangerous. It was painful for you to recall the instances when the groups returned with wounded or missing Na’vi. And although you were aware that it was Neteyam’s third time going on the hunt, you couldn't help but feel worried sick for him. Tonight, with the rest of your clan, you had to show your support, but your mind was contemplating not showing up at all. You didn’t want to see his face, afraid that it might make your heart break further.

There was still time for the ceremony, as you wandered off to the water, trying to calm down your nerves. It would be disrespectful not to go, you had to show up and pray to Eywa that she keeps Neteyam safe and sound. You’re so deep in your thoughts, it takes you a second to notice Mateä sitting down next to you. You force a small smile to greet him.

“Excited for tonight?” he gestures to the extra pieces of ceremonial clothing you’re wearing on your arms and legs.

“Just wanted to be ready in time,” you’re not sure how to respond. You knew Mateä your whole life, yet it feels awkward to be with him alone.

“I heard that you turned down the son of Toruk Makto,” Mateä emphasizes, you hum, “I will not lie to you, at first, when I heard about it, I was relieved. I thought that he doesn’t deserve you. But seeing you like this… it saddens me. I do not wish for you to be unhappy.”

“Thank you, Mateä,” you hang your head at his words.

“Listen, Y/N,” he says softly, “We have known each other since we were babies. And while I curse myself for not spending more of my time with you back then, I do not want to regret this chance too.”

You meet his eyes again, nervously. You knew him pretty well. When Mateä was sure about something, he confronted it head on. Whether it was a rejection or an acceptance, he wished to know the truth in order to move on.

“I always had my eye on you, Y/N,” he confesses, “What I didn’t realize that it was not just in a way one would look after their friend. It is shameful to admit but… it took me seeing you with another man to understand the true nature of my feelings. I like you, Y/N, and I wish to know if you feel the same way.”

You gulp down, tears filling up your eyes. The man you thought you could spend your life with was finally opening his heart to you, yet you didn’t want it. Your own heart belonged to somebody else. Oh Eywa, why couldn’t you enjoy what you had wished for?

“Don’t cry,” Mateä whispers, noticing the tears rolling down your cheeks, “Your heart belongs to him, doesn’t it?”

You can see the brave face he puts on, as you slowly nod your head. You feel so guilty and ashamed for admitting it to him. Mateä was really one of the only people in your life that you valued, and you were hurting him.

“I’m sorry,” you sniff, “If there was a way for me to make this better…”

“You don’t have to apologize, just don’t cry, okay?” he reaches out to wipe away your tears, and you nod again, “That is enough for me.”

You don’t feel like you even deserve his attention right now.

“Mateä, if I could take away the pain that I’m causing, you know I would in an instant,” you mean it.

"I know, Y/N. But you can't help who you love," he says softly, "Regardless of what you choose to do, just promise me that we can still be friends, alright?"

"Of course, Mateä, you mean a lot to me," you nod, grateful.

"Good,” he stands up with a small smile, “Now, let's go. We don't want to be late."

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You quietly take a seat next to Tsireya, who is anxiously watching Lo’ak from a distance. Despite knowing how important it is for Lo’ak to partake in the tradition, she can’t help but feel worried for him. You lay your hand on her shoulder to comfort her.

“Lo’ak is a skilled hunter. You know that Jake takes training very seriously,” you reassure her.

“You’re right,” she nods her head, then turns to face you, “You came with Mateä... Did you talk?”

You nod, pursing your lips together. It’s not difficult for Tsireya to realize what happened. It was only logical that you would reject Mateä because of your feelings for Neteyam.

“Oh, Y/N,” she lets out, pulling you in for a hug. You feel like it’s comforting not only you, but also her.

As the rhythm of the log drums slowly picks up, everyone falls quiet. The Tsahik makes her way to an open space, and the hunters quickly surround her in a circle, kneeling down. It’s then that you see Neteyam, wearing his headpiece and armor, with bow and arrows attached to his back. You can’t help but feel a twinge of worry for him but you push the feeling aside, afraid that it might ruin his luck.

When the Tsahik’s voice fills the air with a praying chant, the hunters begin to sway in unison, seeking the blessing and guidance of Eywa for their upcoming journey. With the rhythm of the log drums, you find yourself lost in the moment too, closing your eyes and letting yourself be carried away.

Eventually, when Tsahik stops, the hunters rise to their feet. As per practice, they must bid farewell to their loved ones, in case they may not return. You can’t help but feel nervous because this part of the ceremony is usually long, and Tsahik allows everyone to take their time. You know that soon enough you will watch Neteyam making his way to his family, and it hurts to know that he won’t be saying goodbye to you too. With every passing second, you feel more anxious, and all you want to do is get away from there. So, when the rest of the clan starts moving, you stand up to leave without even looking in his direction.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You rush through the trees, making your way into a small clearing, illuminated by the moonlight. You take a moment to breathe in and out with the sounds of nature, and eventually calm yourself down. When suddenly you hear a rustling of the leaves.

Your heart skips a beat as you see Neteyam making his way to you, with a mix of concern and confusion.

“Y/N, why did you run off?” he asks, as soon as he’s close enough for you to hear.

“Doesn’t matter,” you dismiss him, “Why are you here? You should be with your family now.”

“I already talked to my family,” Neteyam comes closer, and your breath catches in your throat, “But I couldn't leave without saying goodbye to you.”

“Neteyam,” you’re so confused at his behavior. Did he feel guilty because you looked upset? He shouldn’t be here with you right now.

“Y/N, why did you reject Mateä?” he asks suddenly, catching you off guard, “Tsireya told me.”

You don’t answer, holding his gaze. He hated rejecting girls, you can’t burden him now, before his hunt.

“Was it because of me?” he pushes.

“It does not matter, Neteyam,” you try to brush him off, “You have a hunt ahead of you, you shouldn’t be here right now. Shouldn’t be making your night about my stupid actions.”

“How can I not make this about you?” he says, irritated, “Everything is about you now, Y/N. Every moment of every night and day, doesn’t matter what I’m doing, my mind is occupied with the thoughts of you!”

“W-what?” you stutter, caught off guard.

“So for you to tell me ‘it doesn’t matter’ if you rejected Mateä for me… Of course, it matters. It matters to me, because... Because I see you,” he lets out, breathing loudly.

You stare in confusion, as Neteyam’s eyes jump all over your face, searching for a reaction. All you can do is think about how much you wanted him to say those words to you. To tell you how much he liked you, longed for you, the same way you did for him.

“I see you too, Neteyam,” you manage to whisper, reaching your hand to cup his cheek.

A loving smile breaks on his face, when Neteyam pulls you in for a kiss. He is so desperate to touch you, to know that it’s real. You’re real. Happiness overwhelms you, as you smile against his lips, your hands gently cupping his face.

“I’m yours,” he whispers, resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m yours forever,” you whisper back.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Did my best to upload this before my job interview tomorrow, so by the time I come back, I want you to leave your comments and tags!!! Seriously, I love that shit, it makes my heart melt. Especially when you submit questions

my 30k enemies to lovers fic (neteyam x ta'unui reader)

taglist: @ancientbeing10, @anm3mi ; @lovergirl-3000 ; @sunjayist ; @rensbby ; @okaylorrainee ; @cappsikle ; @raeeahn ; @yawneneteyam ; @oh-austin ; @midlife-crisisperson ; @teyums

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starrrcane · 16 days ago

Text

The Underworld Beneath Piltover chapter one:The surface

Summery: Sevika x nurse!reader who has graduated from a university in Piltover and has been stationed in the Undercity to provide services to those who cannot afford it, where she meets sevika.

Warning: none for this chapter. But eventual smut

Notes: this is my first multiple chapter fanfiction, if this does well I might actually write multiple parts. This takes place pre-act one season 1

Piltover had always been a city of stark contrasts—gleaming towers of progress, their glass facades reflecting an unyielding sun, while the Underbelly beneath it writhed in shadow. The bustle of innovation and intellect existed above, while violence, desperation, and survival ruled the depths below. But for you, freshly graduated from the prestigious medical university of Piltover, there was only one truth: the city was a place of opportunity. It was a chance to prove your worth, to be a part of something larger, something that would make your parents proud. That is, until your advisors handed you a peculiar assignment.

"Go to the Undercity," they had said, with a sort of dismissive finality. "We have an agreement with a businessman named Silco. He runs some operations down there, and you’ll be helping with whatever injuries his people get into."

Silco. A name you had heard whispered in huddled corners, spoken with a reverence that both intrigued and unsettled you. You had expected it to be just another simple job—work with the injured, make your rounds, keep the peace.

You were wrong.

---

The hum of the city above was a distant murmur as you stepped off the rickety elevator that took you into the depths of Zaun, the Underworld where little sunlight reached, and the air was thick with the smell of chemicals and oil. The people here lived in constant struggle—fighting for their survival, for any scrap of hope in a city that seemed to ignore them.

At first glance, the place was dark, chaotic, and a little terrifying, but the further you ventured, the more you realized it was a world of its own—raw, dangerous, but oddly familiar. A place where only the strongest survived, and in your case, the most skilled healer.

"Welcome to your new home," said a voice from behind you, cool and composed.

You turned to see a woman—tall, with dark hair, and an aura that radiated control and authority. Her eyes, however, were sharp, like knives. Sevika.

She was Silco’s right hand women. You had heard of her, of course, the enforcer, the one who kept things running smoothly in the shadows of Zaun. Her reputation preceded her: cold, efficient, and—at least from what you had gathered—somehow untouchable.

"Silco has assigned me to show you around," Sevika continued, her tone as neutral as ever, though there was a slight edge to it that suggested she wasn’t exactly thrilled by the task. "Don’t expect any luxury here. This isn’t Piltover."

Her eyes narrowed as she glanced at you, though there was no clear sign of animosity. Just... wariness. A wariness that somehow felt more personal than professional.

"I don’t need a tour," you said, trying to meet her gaze with equal intensity. You could handle this. You had been trained for this. "Just point me to where I’ll be staying."

"Right down the hall." Sevika gestured toward a door that was far less polished than what you were accustomed to, but you would make do. You had no choice.

"And I assume you’ll be living nearby," you added, though it was more of a statement than a question. You had heard about her proximity to Silco’s operations, and the way people spoke of her hinted at a strange, almost familial bond.

She paused, just for a second, before nodding. "Right next door."

The words hung between you, their meaning ambiguous, like a challenge in disguise.

Sevika turned on her heel and walked away, her heavy boots clicking against the steel floor. You followed her down the hallway, your mind racing. There was something about her—the way she carried herself, the way her eyes lingered for just a fraction of a second too long on your face—that made you uneasy. But there was more to it than that. There was an unspoken tension, a magnetic pull between you that you couldn't quite define.

---

Later that evening, in the solitude of your apartment, you began to unpack your things. The room was sparse, though functional—a bed, a small desk, a few shelves for supplies. You could almost hear the hum of the city outside, the pulse of it echoing in the walls. But it was quieter here than it had been in Piltover. The silence felt almost oppressive.

The window overlooking the dim streets of Zaun cast a pale light over your work, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to think about what you had gotten into. This was no ordinary assignment. Silco wasn’t just a businessman, as your advisors had suggested. He was a kingpin, a figure in the underworld of Zaun who controlled everything from crime to the very air they breathed. And you were here to heal his people—his *henchmen*, as some called them.

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts.

You opened it to find Sevika standing in the hallway, her arms crossed over her chest, as if she were weighing whether or not to speak.

"I’ll be going on a supply run tonight," she said, her voice low. "We’re going to need you to patch up some of the boys once we get back. Nothing too severe, but... be ready."

You nodded, still uncertain about the woman who stood before you. She was cold, distant, and appeared to have no interest in making friends with you. But there was something about the way she stood, the way her gaze flicked over you with a strange intensity.

She was trying not to care.

"Sure. I’ll be ready," you replied, though you couldn’t help but notice the way her eyes lingered on you for a moment longer than necessary before she turned away.

"Good," Sevika said, her voice just a little softer than before. "Don’t get too comfortable. The Undercity has a way of breaking people."

And with that, she walked off down the hall, disappearing into the darkness of the night.

---

In the silence that followed, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted. Sevika was difficult to read, but you could feel the tension between you—subtle, unspoken, yet undeniable. She was trying her best not to like you, to keep her distance, to remain indifferent. But that was fine, you thought. You didn’t need her approval. You had your own mission.

Still, the more time you spent in the Underworld, the more you realized that there were some things—some people—that couldn’t be ignored.

And Sevika... Sevika was definitely one of them.

#sevika x reader #arcane x reader #arcane #sevika arcane x reader #lesbian

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markrosewater · 1 month ago

Note

As someone who only recently got properly into Magic this year my stance on the recent UB Standard legality is that so long as the mechanics are good, fun to play, and work well with the other Standard legal sets then I don't particularly care if Final Fantasy is legal.

But.

There is something about the Marvel Universe being Standard Legal that feels off. Final Fantasy shares many aesthetic and gameplay similarities to Magic that make it slide into the general ecosystem better from a Look/Feel perspective. Meanwhile, as much of a Spider-Man fan as I am, it is going to be incredibly weird seeing Peter Parker or Miles Morales face off against the critters of Bloomburrow, even more than Thunder Junction or Duskmourn do.

I will attend the Final Fantasy and Spider-Man prereleases because I love playing Magic and I am interested in both sets, but I cannot shake the feeling that this decision makes the overall play experience strange, especially since SIX Standard sets of a year is way overdoing it (maybe 3 In-Universe sets and 1 UB set would be a better balance?)

I understand the decision from a logical standpoint but the emotional reaction to Magic losing some of its Qualia is something that I can't ignore

I have read many of the responses to my request for emotional responses yesterday (I will continue reading - there are just a lot of people sharing). A common through line is the feeling of loss, that the decisions we’ve been making are taking things away from them.

So, I wanted to take a moment to talk about something that I believe Universes Beyond is adding to the game. I’m not talking about value to other people that aren’t you, but something that is upside to the enfranchised players that are the backbone of the game.

As I’m head designer, my focus is on mechanics and the core gameplay experience of playing the game. Universes Beyond has been a bolt of energy for the design of the game.

Because so many of you are sharing personal stories, I’ll use my own experiences as a way to illustrate my point.

One day, when I was seven or eight, I woke up and went downstairs to see that my Dad had bought me a comic book and left it out on the counter for me as a surprise. It was Spider-Man.

I must have read that comic ten times. It was the start of a life long love of comic books. I’m not quite sure why the superhero genre, in particular, spoke to me so strongly, but it did.

As a teenager I was a bit of an outcast, and when I stumbled upon the X-Men, it felt like a story that was core to my lived experience. I too was an outsider, but out there were people like me and if I could find those people, we could bond over our similarities.

I enjoy designing Magic. I mean really, really enjoy designing Magic. I don’t throw around the term “dream job” lightly. It is truly a lifelong passion. I spend so much time writing about it because it is something that brings me so much joy, and there is a desire to share that joy with others, my found family that shares my similarities.

Designing Marvel cards has been electrifying. I have spent years mastering the art of Magic design. Getting to combine that with my love of Marvel characters has been inspirational. It has inspired to make designs I would have never thought of.

It has pushed me in directions I couldn’t have predicted and resulted in designs that tickle both my inner Mel and Vorthoses.

And it hasn’t just affected my own designs. I have given more notes on card designs than I have in my twenty nine years at Wizards.

For example, the amount of back and forth with Aaron who designed the five Secret Lair cards we recently revealed at New York ComicCon was exhaustive. He and I have long bonded over our shared love of Marvel, so getting to translate that into Magic with him has been amazing.

And each Universes Beyond product we’re making has people as equally passionate about that property.

My point is from purely a design perspective, Universes Beyond has had huge dividends. It has inspired us to make fresh new designs. It has sparked creativity. We are making awesome card designs, mechanics, themes, and sets, things that most likely wouldn’t have come into existence otherwise.

The passion that beloved characters and worlds has inspired in us is translated into amazing Magic design, something that will make the act of playing Magic better for anyone who enjoys the nuts and bolts of the raw gameplay of Magic.

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neptuneiris · 11 months ago

Text

Wild Hearts | (One Shot)

'you, it's always been you'

pairing: prince!aemond × lowborn!reader

summary: you and he can't be together, yet the two of you have fallen for each other. but the Gods are not merciful and you both have to let go. but by comparison, your charming prince doesn't think the same way you do.

word count: 8.6k

next part • main masterlist

this is the new idea that I was talking about hehe🤭

i hope you like it a lot and first of all, i want you to know that there will be part two and nothing else. so enjoy this, dig it and let me know your opinion that is the most excited i am to read❤

enjoy and thank you so much for your support beautiful people!

warnings: angst, sex content, arranged married, minor mentions of cuts and blood, smut but not so elaborate.

The Gods can be cruel.

And for some time they have been cruel, especially to you.

You are a lady, yes, but not of a great house enough to be worth anything really big and significant. All your father can offer the Realm is a few soldiers, horses and you.

You are the only daughter of an arranged marriage trying to find their place among the Court. And when you are born a woman, your duty is to marry a suitable man, please him and give birth to as many children as possible.

That was your purpose in coming to King's Landing after Queen Alicent approved your stay at the Red Keep and you became a lady-in-waiting to the highborn ladys who also remain at Court.

But no one, not even you, could have prevented that those plans would no longer be a priority for you the moment you met Prince Aemond Targaryen.

You knew of the one-eyed prince's reputation, as well as his brutality in combat, his cold behavior and also of his recognition as the rider of the largest dragon in the world. But most of all, you knew that his disinterested and sometimes mean personality... was due to how he lost his eye at such a young age.

But that was what he wanted to show all the people of the Court and its visitors.

After such humiliating years of trying to prove himself while at the same time listening to whispers and rumors about him and the pity he caused people for losing his eye, Aemond had no interest in pleasing the Court, so he was just mean, disinterested and cold.

But with you it was all different.

Perhaps it was being alone for so long that he finally got tired of himself and let you in and see his other side, his true side that very few were privileged to see. After all, you were just a lowborn lady who had lived her whole life with the same duty as him: to please the Realm and fill its needs.

But even he never imagined that you and he would understand each other so well.

The gleam of his violet eye, charged with an unusual intensity and determination, the effect he made you feel when you looked back at him and saw his patch covering his left socket and the way he spoke and behaved with you, triggered a wave of unknown emotions and expectations in you.

Your first casual encounter with the prince began in the library, where you exchanged literary tastes. You revealed your fascination for the history of the Andals, as well as shared with him how interesting you found the stories of his family, the Targaryens.

And he shared with you his admiration for history and philosophy as well.

Your casual encounters with him continued in the library and before long, those encounters extended to walks in the gardens. Those walks became a mostly secret habit, where you not only shared equal opinions about books and history, but where you both got to know each other a little more.

And despite the growing friendship and the bonds that intertwined with every conversation and interaction, the weight of undeniable reality persisted.

However, neither of you stopped.

On some trips he had to make, on every return he would always bring some gift for you, whether it was a piece of jewelry or a new book that you don't have access to, to leave secretly in you chamber. Or he would even surprise you with a rare flower that is not seen in the Crowlands, handing it to you so delicately while you tried to keep the blush on your cheeks from being so obvious.

You too tried to look casual when you went to the training yard just to watch him train discreetly, admiring his skills and in every fight smiling proudly every time he made his opponents surrender to him.

And in the midst of everything and everyone, his violet eye always met yours.

At banquets and celebrations it was also the same. The two of you couldn't engage in conversation as such, at least not alone, so all night long, you could only exchange glances and act like complete strangers.

But in the occasional places where the two of you meet and no one else is around, you can act completely free.

He shared with you the story of how he claimed Vhagar, told you more about the history of his ancestors, even taught you some High Valyrian words, while you, who in comparison to him do not possess anything as great and exciting as he does, share with him your thoughts, dreams and tastes.

You both became friends. You became the friend he didn't know he needed and you definitely didn't expect someone like him, especially him, to enjoy your company so much.

And during those years, you couldn't blame the Gods for falling completely in love with the prince.

That was your total freedom and decision, even though you knew how impossible the situation was and that the two of you could probably never be together.

Your house is not worth enough to allow a union between you and a prince of the Realm. It was also useless to suggest it, because the answer would be no, both from the Queen and from your parents, who would have been totally pleased.

But Aemond is destined for more, you know that. And that more is definitely not you and not even close.

And despite this, you couldn't help but imagine as a fleeting dream the moment when he and you unite and become one. A dream that will never happen in which you finally become his wife and you can call him yours, just as he can also call you his, in body and soul.

But that dream is finally shattered when they announce the official betrothal between him and Lady Floris Baratheon.

It was something that was eventually going to happen, you knew it was going to happen, but still, the news takes you by surprise and your heart breaks into pieces, while everyone around you rejoices at the news and approves.

The days following the betrothal announcement become dark and sad for you. You retreat most of your time in your chamber, not having the mood to go out and face the Court, much less him.

And when you had to face the daylight, your steps became stealthy and sparse, trying to keep your distance as much as possible and avoiding any possible encounter with him or anyone else from the royal family.

Aemond of course realized the distance you took and respected it. Not because he knew exactly what happened, but because he thought you had other important matters that did not allow you to share your time with him.

It wasn't until an audience at the Court where the Queen and the Hand of the King attend to the needs of the people, that Aemond finally caught a glimpse of you. But you didn't return his gaze even for a moment. And it is only then that he tries to understand the reason for your distancing, but your eyes avoid any eye contact with him.

You spend several days living in the same way, until one silent morning, Aemond finds you in the library all alone. He knows this is not your favorite time to read, nor is it his, so to say you are avoiding him is clear at that moment.

He opens one of the doors gently and closes it audibly enough to get your attention. He sees perfectly how your whole body tenses and nerves are reflected in your gaze, as well as discontent.

That especially catches his attention and with more purpose he wanders deeper into the library, watching you completely intently and in search of an explanation, wanting to know what he has done to make his presence before you now uncomfortable and annoying to you.

"My prince," you say politely enough, bowing your head to him, but already wanting to leave.

You certainly did not expect him to appear and now you only try to hide from him as much as you can so that he avoids looking at the disappointment on your face.

"My Lady," he says, still with bewilderment in his gaze, taking a couple of steps towards you, "It is good to finally see you after so many weeks without your presence."

You force a small smile, lowering your gaze.

"It's good to see you too, my prince."

His closeness begins to unsettle you, feeling each step he takes towards you as an echo of emotions you'd rather keep hidden. And this is exactly why you desperately seek a way out, a convincing excuse to get away from him.

"If you'll excuse me, my prince, I must retire," you decide to say without further ado, hoping that it will work, "I wish you a good day."

But you only manage to move two steps forward when he quickly blocks your path.

"Wait."

Instantly you watch him intently and in awe, feeling your heart begin to beat too fast, as he looks at you confused and hopeful.

"You've been... absent lately," he says, his words laden with a mixture of confusion and longing.

You swallow hard, averting your gaze from his for a moment. You don't even want to look him in the eye but that would be rude and not appropriate behavior in front of a prince. So you have no choice.

"Yes," you say in a mumble, trying to find an excuse quickly, "I-I've had to take care of some important matters with my family. Also, my responsibilities at Court have kept me occupied with the ladies and other engagements, which has left me less free time, my prince."

And despite your explanation, really not at all convincing, Aemond can't help but feel annoyed.

"And will you stop saying that?" he inquires in a low tone and you watch him in confusion.

"What do you mean, my prince?"

"Exactly that, my title," he points out deliberately, "There's no one else here, it's just you and me. I don't understand what all the formality is about."

You press your lips together, again averting your gaze from him, as you as well as he, feel that tension between the two of you, a tension completely unfamiliar and one you have never felt before in each other's presence.

You had never felt uncomfortable in his presence and you had never wanted to get away from him before.

"I apologize. It was not my intention to offend you," you observe him with a serious expression, "If you'll excuse me, I have to leave now to attend to an engagement."

Again you try to walk past him and head for the library doors, but Aemond prevents it once again, blocking your path and pushing you back with his determined and clearly annoyed gaze.

"You are avoiding me," he sentences, firm with his words, showing his inconformity, surprising you, "Nothing is the same between both of us anymore and your explanations don't justify it," he says, with annoyance in his voice and a determination, "Did something happen that I don't know about?"

He asks, watching you with a restrained fury, mostly to see how you try to escape from him, while you press your lips together, trying not to let your look show your pain, disappointment and resignation.

But his gaze clings to yours with an intensity charged with longing, wanting to know, while the silence is uncomfortable and you feel again that tension between the two of you. Until finally you decide to break the silence to not quite answer her question, still evading it.

"This is inappropriate. We shouldn't be alone."

You say without looking him in the eye and that only increases the anger inside him more, watching you without understanding.

"Why the shyness all of a sudden?"

You bite your lips, feeling the discontent all over your insides as you say your next words.

"You are betrothed. People might think badly of you and me if they see us here alone."

"Oh, please Y/N," he tells you incredulously, annoyed, "You're acting ridiculous."

"Aemond-

"Why this sudden concern for appearances?" he questions, his tone infused with irritation and annoyance, "Everyone knows we're close, we always have been, and now it's inappropriate?" he inquire, not understanding.

You let out a short breath, closing your eyes for a moment, really not wanting this to be any harder than it probably will be.

"You don't understand," you murmur sadly, biting your lips, "You are betrothed now," you observe him with the resistance to cry in your gaze, "Now there are limits we cannot cross. And it would be best if this were no longer to go on," you say with a lump in your throat, "Your gifts and our meetings must stop, for the good of your future marriage and out of respect for your f-future... wife."

The weight of your words are felt in your tone, with sadness invading you as you utter them, as well as the ending of this... friendship.

Again the heavy silence hangs between the two of you, laden with a sadness and helplessness that neither of you can control. And although Aemond doesn't fully understand your reasons for distancing yourself from him, he knows there is something else that he still can't quite figure it out.

"Y/N, if you're upset because I didn't tell you about the plans my mother and grandsire had for me-

"No, no, I assure you it's not that," you hasten to say, hiding your sadness and disappointment, "It would eventually happen, wouldn't it?" you shrug, trying to smile genuinely towards him, but you can't, "You must do your duty and I will too, sooner or later," you say, lowering your gaze.

Aemond is speechless for a moment, watching you and nothing else, still feeling the guilt inside, while you struggle to contain your true emotions and shout to him in that moment that you love him, let him know once and for all, though it won't change anything.

"Y/N..." he murmurs, his barely audible voice full of bewilderment and a hint of pain, "Still I didn't want to-

"No, no... it's not your fault," you say again quickly, struggling to keep your composure, "Truly, it's all right. I should leave now."

He lets out a sigh, lowering his gaze for a second to look at you in concert with longing and concern.

"Can we please talk about this? I don't want things to end up like this between us."

"Don't worry," you try to smile genuinely at him, but rather a grimace appears on your lips, "I'm sure we can meet in the hallways and talk at the feast."

You tell him in a confident and assured tone, but even you know that won't be true.

"Oh and... hum... congratulations on your upcoming nuptials," you say with a lump in your throat and a forced smile on your lips.

To you, the falsity of your congratulations echoes in the air, a subtle echo of disappointment and resignation flooding your heart. Aemond tries to say something with the right words, but you don't give him the time as you finally move forward and no one stops you, each step echoing with the heaviness of what could have been and was not.

But just when you think you've managed to get far enough away, a hand gently lands on your arm, once again stopping you.

"Wait, please."

Aemond's voice sounds full of urgency and longing, making your breath catch for a second. And when you turn to look at him with the clear resignation and sadness in your gaze, his look reveals a mixture of torment and determination, frustration as well.

"I did not wish for this, Y/N," he confesses truthfully, his voice soft and emotionally charged. "It is not my desire to marry Lord Borros' daughter. That is not what I wish for myself."

Your eyes fill with tears as you hear his words, surprise in your gaze. And he stares directly into your eyes with despair, as if his thoughts are trying to be conveyed through his gaze.

And even though you have nothing to say regarding that, he continues with a confession that takes your breath away.

"Y/N..." he whispers, his expression heavy with longing. "If I had a choice, if the decision were mine, I would not hesitate in....

His words hang in the air, causing confusion in you for a moment, but as you watch him closely, his gaze speaks for him.

He watches you with attention, longing and hope, adoringly seeing the way your beautiful purple dress highlights your figure and beauty, with those precious and discreet jewels adorning your neck and fingers... his woman.

He shows you his affection and expresses it simply by observing you that he doesn't need to say anything else aloud. The meaning of her words is dispersed between the two of you, revealing a shared desire and a deep connection.

As you, upon understanding, surprise and hope collide within you, leaving you breathless at the implicit, yet clear revelation. Emotions intertwine in a whirlwind of feelings as the weight of his words sink deep within you. Your heart only beats faster, unable to believe what you are hearing, as time seems to have stopped, unable to speak.

And only then there, you can feel joy in knowing that your feelings are reciprocated, but the pain of knowing that it is now too late, simply ruins everything and fills you with pain.

"Why are you saying it until now?" you whisper with your voice broken and your gaze lowered.

"Y/N, please-

You don't let him say anything else, as with a lump in your throat and tears streaming down your cheeks, a sight Aemond doesn't like to see, you turn away from him more quickly and walk out of the library, leaving him alone with the weight of these confessions and unspoken words.

Also with a heart full of regret.

The news of your courtship came weeks after the last time you spoke to Aemond in the library.

You definitely did not expect to hear that at all, as you felt like you had been unexpectedly punched hard in your stomach and a sharp pain settled in your chest as your father spoke complacently about how he received two advantageous offers for the asking of your hand, Lord Ronan Redwyne and Lord Alan Beesbury.

Despite your father's efforts to express the importance and political benefits of such possible unions, to you it was as if the air itself had become heavier and stifling.

Only on this occasion the Gods had been good to you, as both men are the same age as you, so the fear of having to marry a man who multiplies your age and was surely going to be bad to you evaporates.

But still, you feel trapped and obligated.

Of course, your parents are quick to push you to start having conversations with both men to see which of the two is the most suitable for you.

Lord Alan, with his refined presence and gentle smile, known to be a skilled knight, is kind and very gentlemanly. You always see his attempt to make you feel comfortable with his presence, also in the topics of conversation that arise between the two, telling you about his home, his family, some stories and sharing some wishes with you.

You appreciate that, as you can tell he's doing his best, but even so, your mind reels at the thought of him being the possible candidate to take your hand, which adds another layer of complexity to your situation.

The same goes for Lord Ronan.

Despite his kindness, chivalry and the attractiveness of his face, you find no peace in the situation. You don't even care that they are both advantageous for a future marriage, all you want is freedom, to wait a little longer until you heal.

But at least you are being given the choice, a privilege not many women get from their parents when it comes time to marry and simply sell them as a trophy to the first advantageous man.

"It's a beautiful day, don't you think, my Lady?" says Ronan, breaking the silence between the two as you stroll through the Red Keep gardens.

"Yes, it is," you reply with a forced smile, lowering your gaze, keeping your pace slow.

He watches you intently.

"I just want you to know that I am eager to get to know you better, my Lady," he tells you gently and formally, "And any questions you have about me, you can tell me. Also any thoughts you have, I will be pleased to hear them."

You nod politely, feeling a little uncomfortable about the situation, unable to help yourself. And though you truly appreciate Ronan's kindness, your heart still yearns for something that now eludes you.

As you continue the walk, you strive to find something in Ronan, anything, just as you do whenever you are in Lord Alan's company, but you always fail. And even though neither of them is a bad man, you know that they too are caught up in choosing a future wife that is not entirely of their choosing.

"I thank you for your kindness, my Lord."

You say in a sincere voice, looking him in the eyes for the first time since you had started the walk,

"And also for your interest. Not many men are interested in the thoughts of women these days."

Ronan places a kind and understanding little smile on his lips, nodding in your direction.

"There is nothing to be thankful for, my Lady. And I know it's only a short time since we've begun to know each other, but I enjoy your company."

You nod again, keeping your gaze straight ahead, unable to help but feel how you still feel overwhelmed by the weight of courtship and the fact that you will soon marry him or Lord Alan.

And at the same time, reality dawns on you with undeniable clarity: Ronan and Alan are good men, but neither is him.

While both may be honorable companions, your heart still yearns for someone you can't have, feeling utterly sad and resigned, because it's not fair, not to the two of them either.

But how can you make those feelings go away fast?

And just when things couldn't be more unexpected for you, as you turn down one of the bush paths along with Ronan, you both find yourselves face to face with Aemond accompanied by Lady Floris at his side, who were walking in the opposite direction.

And the air is enveloped with immediate tension.

You knew that eventually the news of your courtship with two possible candidates to give your hand in marriage would reach Aemond's ears, but when your eyes involuntarily meet his, you see only dissatisfaction and restrained fury.

This triggers a whirlwind of emotions within you, trying to disguise your surprise and discomfort, also nerves, as well as you try to focus on your companion, trying to move on and appear unaffected by this.

"Lady Y/N," Lady Floris greets politely with a smile, breaking the silence, "Lord Ronan," she address him, "How lovely to see you both this morning."

"Lady Floris," you reply, trying to remain calm, then look almost fearfully at Aemond, "Prince Aemond," you tilt your head slightly, biting the inside of your cheek.

"My Lady," he answers you in a soft tone.

Ronan at your side also greets Lady Floris in a respectful manner, then turns to Aemond.

"My prince."

"Lord Ronan," says Aemond, in a dismissive tone, observing you attentively and at the same time in seriousness.

Aemond's tone does not go unnoticed by you, with an intensity on his face that does not go unnoticed either, as you struggle to remain calm in the face of the uncomfortable situation.

It is clear that Ronan's presence at your side does not please him at all.

As Lady Floris at his side, she attempts to carry on a polite conversation, oblivious to the tension that has taken over the moment.

"I would like to offer my best wishes to you both on your courtship," Lady Floris begins to say kindly, "Fortunately the prince and I are in the same place as you and understand what it can be to have expectations high in families if you decide to join your houses."

You feel more the knot in your stomach and the discomfort all over your body, not daring to say anything regarding that, while Aemond remains just as silent as you.

And fortunately Ronan is the one who appreciates Floris' gesture, while Aemond keeps his eye on you with an expressionless but penetrating gaze, also watching Ronan from time to time.

"Thank you, my Lady," Ronan replies courteously, "Your words are most kind and we wish you both well in your future marriage."

"Of course. We hope to see you both at our upcoming wedding," Floris adds with a kind and visibly excited smile, while you again feel your heart give a painful jump.

And since you say nothing, nor does Aemond, Ronan hastens to speak.

"Of course, my Lady. We will see you there."

With pain in your eyes, your gaze involuntarily drifts to Aemond for a brief moment, where he is already watching you. And in that fleeting moment, the looks in both of your eyes convey more than words can express.

With a polite bow, the four of you take your leave and each pair continues on their own way.

You try to focus on your steps along with Ronan's, but the echo of tension and unspoken feelings leave an unpleasant sensation throughout your body. And that's when you hope that soon, both you and he will find peace in your respective futures.

But it didn't look like that was going to happen anytime soon. Neither did acceptance.

Aemond continued the rest of his walk with Floris in the gardens with his mind still focused on the encounter with you and that boy clearly unworthy of you. He didn't even pay attention to what Floris was talking about, he had not the slightest interest and obliged, he had to complete his walk with her contributing very little to the conversation.

Even he himself could not avoid the feeling of suffocation and frustration that invaded him. Seeing Y/N, his Y/N, next to that poor boy, one of his possible candidates to take her hand in marriage, provoked a mixture of indescribable emotions inside him and he made a great effort to keep his composure.

He feels furious and emotionally on the verge of exploding, like a mad man, with impotence filling him with rage.

Why should she marry a man who was not him? Why should he be forced to witness her courtship with another man? Why couldn't he have realized that she also loves him the same way he loves her and reacted sooner?

He felt that he was really going to go crazy, so as soon as he bids farewell to Floris and leaves her in the company of the other ladies of the Court, he heads for the training yard.

Big mistake.

As soon as his presence arrives at this place of the Red Keep, the figure of Lord Ronan pulls him out of his thoughts and draws his full attention.

At least he has the decency to hold a sword.

He thinks to himself, watching as he finds himself engrossed in his own training, accompanied by other knights, practicing his sword moves. He also thinks about focusing on his own training, but finds it a better idea to meet the candidate of his dear friend Y/N, wanting to know what truly awaits her.

After all, Lord Ronan is not the only candidate, Lord Alan also frequents the training yard and will eventually see him as well. So with a determined step, he approaches him.

"Lord Ronan," he says in a cool but controlled tone as he approaches, heading towards the weapons table.

"Prince Aemond," Ronan replies, stopping his training and turning to him, "It is good to see you here as well, my prince."

His gaze assesses Ronan closely, noting his every gesture and movement. And despite the anger still flowing through his veins, he remains calm, not revealing too much of his thoughts.

"I guess you don't train enough at home. House Redwyne is best known for making sweet wine from the grapes that grow on your island," he comments neutrally, watching Ronan's position with meticulous attention.

"Ah... no, my prince," Ronan says politely, "I have had training lessons with the sword, among other weapons, since I was a young boy. So have other members of my family and I assure you we are well trained," he replies, adjusting the position of his sword, "After all, a knight must remain prepared at all times."

"Hm," he says seriously, "And that is what you have accomplished with so many years of training?"

Ronan remains calm in the face of the prince's critical gaze, though Aemond's insinuation resonates with a defiant tone.

"P-pardon me?"

"With those moves is that how you're going to ensure protection for your future wife?" he inquires with a dismissive tone, challenging Ronan with his words.

Tension begins to be felt in the air, the verbal confrontation slipping between the two men. And though Ronan maintains his composure, not wanting his words to affect him, the disdain in the prince's words does not go unnoticed.

"Appearances can be deceiving, my prince," Ronan said calmly, controlling each word to convey determination, "And my duty as protector of my future wife is not limited to combat alone. I suppose there are more important aspects."

Aemond tilts his head, watching him in confusion.

"And what aspects are those, my Lord?" he asks, clearly disinterested.

"Loyalty, anticipation and sacrifice," he replied determinedly. "Protection goes beyond sword skills; it involves being willing to give your all for the person you are sworn to protect."

Ronan's words echoed in the air, filling the space between them with a seriousness that could not be ignored. And Aemond, his brow furrowed, lets out a sigh and watches him more seriously than before.

"Do you hear yourself, my lord? Speaking like the ladies of the Court who read and listen to love ballads," he snaps, watching him in disapproval, "Loyalty, anticipation and sacrifice are not going to protect your future wife from a life-threatening attack," he says and then turns away, taking his sword and a shield from the table.

Ronan swallows hard.

"You need not worry, my prince. Still I assure you that I am well prepared for combat."

"Oh yeah?" he looks at him expectantly, turning to him with his weapons in hands, "Then prove it."

Ronan looks a little confused.

"My prince-

"Come on," he interrupts him, egging him on with defiance, discontent and agitation in his tone and look, "If you're as skillful as you proclaim, then prove it."

The atmosphere grows more tense, as Aemond waits for Ronan to accept his challenge and prove his worth beyond words. Both men hold each other's gazes firmly, with the tension increasing by the second, but neither takes a step back.

The confrontation becomes tangible. Glares charged with a subtle but unmistakable rivalry. And without further words, the air filled with the anticipation of the physical training ahead, as the two head to the center of the training yard, each preparing in their own way.

Aemond tightens his grip on his sword and without hesitation, lunges towards Ronan with fierce determination, causing the poor knight to have little anticipation to protect himself from his sword, but managing to dodge it and answer him in kind.

At first it appears to be casual training, yet Aemond wants to get a reaction out of him.

And between every clash of swords and every move full of speed and precision, at every failure of Ronan, Aemond taunts and shouts questions and insults at him in a defiant voice while demanding superior performance.

And at every failure and every taunt, Ronan's determination grows, also inevitably to the prince's provocations.

"Is that all you can do!?"

Aemond exclaims arrogantly to him, wiping the sweat from his brow, trying to unsettle him.

Ronan growls and focuses on his movements, responding with brutality and force, trying to answer every blow he threw at him, which to Aemond, couldn't be more pathetic and weak movements.

"This is what you plan to defend yourself with? This is what you have learned?" he inquires, mockingly, "What a shame."

Ronan lowers his sword a little, watching him in bewilderment and panting in exhaustion.

"My prince-

He tries to say but Aemond won't let him.

"No," he tells him seriously, "Be a fucking man and fight me back."

Aemond raises his sword again and slams it against his, causing him to lose his balance, while Ronan as best he can defends himself from their attacks, while the combat begins to attract the attention of the other knights and some people of the Court.

And only when Aemond sees that they have just started and he can no longer stand and does not even have more strength in his arms, the confrontation went from a simple duel to a battle without mercy.

And he in a fit of anger and frustration, leads to hit him with his foot in the chest with excessive force, making him gasp in pain and throwing him to the ground, and then walk quickly towards him, with purpose, raising his sword, so Ronan quickly tries to get up, raising his sword, blocking his attack.

Then Aemond's sword dangerously grazes Ronan's shoulder, knocking him back to the ground with a blow to his side.

"My prince-

"You yield!?" he exclaims to him in his madness, bringing the point of his sword to his throat.

"Yes! I yield!"

"Just like that!? So easy!?"

"Prince Aemond!"

He hears someone shout in the distance but he focuses entirely on Ronan below him.

"I yield!"

"He's bleeding!"

"My prince!" comes Criston Cole immediately.

And only at that moment does Aemond stop, breathing shakily, his gaze with barely contained fury. And only at that moment he also notices that Ronan has a wound on his shoulder with which he had brushed his sword earlier, not realizing at the time that he had wounded him.

Ronan presses his free hand to the wound, trying to stop the bleeding, watching him in horror and clearly calling for help.

Aemond squeezes his sword again so hard that it marks his white knuckles, watching everyone around him for a moment, then with a hard stare, turning to him again, angling his body so that only he can hear him.

"You are not worthy of her," he whispers in a low voice, his words laden with disdain and resentment.

And without caring about the stares or even her opponent's injury, he leaves the shield on the ground and with his sword in hand heads towards the interior of the Red Keep's castle.

Aemond knew that eventually what happened at the training yard would reach your ears. He also expected a confrontation about it, but he didn't imagine he would face your fury late at night.

His guards are required to stand guard in different hallways, so taking advantage of the fact that there are none in the hallway by his doors, you quickly make your way there to enter his chamber as fast as your body will allow.

He looks up from his book in his lap, sitting near the fireplace, watching you attentively at once, but before he can say anything, you turn to him with your lips pressed together and annoyance in your eyes.

"Have you lost your mind?" you inquire in a serious and demanding tone, looking for explanations.

And just like you, Aemond isn't having your attitude either. He's annoyed to see how you haven't taken any time at all to come to the defense of that stupid, poor, defenseless boy.

Putting his book aside, he stands up, imposing his presence on you. Despite having to raise your face to face him directly, you don't let his posture intimidate you.

"I see that that... Ronan matters too much to you, my Lady," he says in a dismissive tone, "It took you no time at all to fall for his sure sweet words and promises of love. After all, you and he are very much alike."

You inhale deeply before responding, seeking calm despite his attitude and the tone of his words.

"Ronan and I are getting to know each other, nothing more. Just as you are getting to know Floris Baratheon. But I'm not doing anything against you, yours is for sure, she's going to be your wife. But you can't go hurting and almost killing the men who can be my future husband."

He looks away from yours for a moment, irritated.

"I don't know what you expected, honestly," he tells you seriously and indifferently, "That's what happens in combat when we fight with weapons, Y/N, men get hurt. And if Ronan is weak and wasn't taught well, that's not my problem."

You stand your ground, incredulous to hear his words.

"That doesn't justify what you did. Everyone witnessed how the combat began and it was you who unfairly exploded against him, hurting him," you reproach him with determination. "His wound was deep. He needed eight stitches!"

Aemond, sick of this, averts his gaze from yours and turns his back on you, heading towards his table to pour himself a glass of wine under your confused and incredulous gaze.

"I don't understand why you're so worried, he'll be fine. After all, you still have another possible candidate for your hand, I hear," he says in a tone devoid of emotion, laden with bitterness, "Though I doubt he's much stronger than Ronan."

His voice sounds harsh, his words laden with a bitter resentment that he can barely hide, jealous.

"So this is how things will be?"

You ask him earnestly and sadly, fighting back tears that threaten to escape at any moment.

"You'll go around hurting my suitors until there are none left and I have no chance of marrying anyone else but not you either?"

Tension hangs in the air as you wait for his response, feeling the weight of your words and the clash of emotions between the two of you.

And he remains silent, staring out the window with a hard stare, as if not looking for an answer through the glass, turning his back to you and not daring to look at you at that moment.

Finally the first tear rolls down your cheek and Aemond listens as you gently sniffle your nose, then turns to you, his face showing a mixture of emotions, from hardness to the flash of regret and longing.

And he lets out a defeated sigh.

"That's not what this is about, Y/N," he murmurs in a softer tone, his expression revealing his inner struggle, "They're not worthy of you. Your father is choosing wrong."

And that's when you explode with anger and frustration, unable to contain yourself any longer.

"I just don't understand why you care so much, Aemond!" you exclaim without understanding, "You shouldn't see them as a threat because they are not. You have nothing to do here!"

You face him, as your tears fall silently, with a defiant look and your posture firm, though full of sadness, anguish and confusion, inside and outside. And he too responds to you in kind.

"Of course I do!" he turns to you angrily, exclaiming in his fury, "This does concern me because those fucking men and your father are going to take you away from me! And they have no right!"

And again your emotions boil over, fury and pain getting the best of you.

"Do you even listen to yourself? How irrational you are being?" you inquire, not understanding, "You didn't even do anything in the beginning, you are the prince, the one who had the power to do something about it and you never even once asked for my hand!" you shout at him, your voice full of reproach, sadness and disappointment.

Furious, Aemond turns around and in a burst of anger, throws his hand towards the table, causing the wine jar and the cups to fall to the floor with a deafening clatter. The sudden sound makes you jump and recoil, startled by the noise and force of the act.

He turns his back and heads for the back of his chair, leaning hard against it as he tries to contain his fury. With her breathing rapid and agitated he struggles to regain his composure, his body tensing and closing his eye tightly.

The air becomes tense and the silence uncomfortable, as Aemond fights against himself and you just allow yourself to cry silently.

When he speaks again, with a tinge of bitterness in his gaze, still not turning to look at you and his voice soft but laden with resignation, still holding back his fury.

"I wanted to," he confesses to you, his vulnerability visible, "But my mother and grandsire would never have approved, you know that."

His statement leaves you speechless, with a mixture of sadness and disappointment that he didn't even try, not once and yet...he has the nerve to do this to you.

You remain silent and the disappointment and bitterness reflect even more on your face as the tears run their course, to finally gather your courage and speak.

"Then... let me go," you whisper, it being more of a painful plea than a command.

Silence expands in the room, marking every second with the heaviness of unresolved emotions. And you, overwhelmed with disappointment and pain, understand that you have nothing more to do here and turn to leave.

You don't even care if one of the guards sees you coming out of his chamber, you don't even care if rumors arise seeing you here late at night and everything gets too complicated, you just need to get out of here soon.

And with tears still running down your cheeks and being completely heartbroken, you grab the doorknob. But just as you are about to turn it, his firm and determined hand lands on your waist and turns you towards him, stopping you.

The action takes you by surprise and you look at him without understanding, he doesn't give you time to say anything either as he places one hand on your cheek and the other keeps it firmly on your waist, bringing his body close to yours.

And still without reacting, he moves closer, his warm breath brushing against your face.

"I can't," he murmurs, his voice cracking with anguish, laden with longing and regret, "I can't," he repeats in a whisper, gently caressing your cheek, "I'm sorry."

And just then, without a thought for anyone else and without a care in the world, his lips trap yours in a passionate, desperate kiss.

Paralyzed, surprise takes you completely and you can only feel how every movement of his lips is a mixture of apology and desire, asking you to kiss him back.

His arms wrap firmly around you, clinging to you as if he's going to lose you at any moment. And unable to resist a second longer, with his soft lips and warm mouth on top of yours, he makes the world fade away around you in that instant and you kiss him back.

You place your arms around his neck and cling to him completely, moving your lips in sync with his, as he presses your body against his and lets out a gasp at the wonderful feeling of having you this way with him.

And you feel as if you are floating, this being exactly what you had dreamed and prayed for so much, wishing and praying to the Gods that this is not also one of your cruel dreams.

But this is real. It is finally happening.

So you allow yourself to lose yourself completely in it, not thinking about the consequences and not caring about anything else, as Aemond walks you around without stopping kissing you for a single moment, until his feet touch the edge of his bed.

"I love you. I love you so much, my sweet girl."

He whispers into your lips, watching you with all that love and desire in his gaze, noticing your swollen and parted lips, watching him back with the same intensity and completely surprised to hear his words.

And without saying anything back, with the actions speaking for themselves, you kiss him again, feeling that urge to cry, but of happiness.

Aemond falls down sitting on the edge of his bed and you take a seat on his lap, placing your knees on either side of his hips, clinging to his neck and kissing him slow, deep, making you feel everything.

"I love you too," you murmur against his lips, watching him with nothing but affection and desire.

He kisses you again desperately, feeling something warm in his chest at your words, holding your waist with one of his hands and the other beginning to lift the edges of your skirt, making his way to touch your bare thigh.

You gasp into his lips, feeling his warm hand and the cool metal of his rings, only to tilt your head as he begins to leave soft, wet kisses down your neck, trying to find your sensitive spot to make you shiver.

"You're so beautiful," he murmurs, leaving a kiss on your collarbone, lifting his gaze to you.

"A-aemond," you gasp, feeling the hardness beneath you.

You reach up with one of your hands and remove his eye patch, wanting to see everything about him, instantly reflecting the faint light of his blue sapphire, looking so beautiful and dazzling.

You smile softly at the sight of him, then leave a soft kiss on his cheek, beginning to leave a small trail down his face to kiss him on the lips, as his hand on your thigh makes gentle, firm strokes on your skin.

Slowly, he lifts his hand from your waist to the laces of your dress, watching you attentively afterwards and needing first of all your permission. And you help him untie the knots yourself.

Your front of the dress loosens and revealing your white gown underneath, Aemond lifts one of his hands and gently traces your skin between the valley of your breasts, making you shudder and shiver, then stops at the straps, watching you again.

"May I?"

With the blush on your cheeks and the nerves in your lower abdomen, really wanting to do this, you nod.

"Yes."

His hand slowly slides the strap down your shoulder and arm, then exposes your breasts to him, making you feel more nervous, but you feel completely safe to be doing this with him.

Truly everything that happens next, giving him your mainhead and letting his calloused hands explore all over your naked body, is by choice and you think to yourself that if there is one man you would willingly trust with this, it's him.

And just as the tip of his hot, hard, heavy cock makes its way between your walls, he knows exactly how to comfort you and make you feel comfortable. Instantly blood stains his sheets, but he doesn't care at all.

And when he begins to move inside you, slowly and very carefully, waiting for you to get used to it, he wipes away every tear that escapes your eyes and comforts you with his hands and kisses, making sure that at all times you are well.

"You feel so fucking good, so warm and tight, my love."

And despite his obscene words, his actions are anything but, his movements careful and careful not to hurt you, asking you how you feel.

He kisses you sweetly and caresses your breasts, he makes sure to pleasure you too, as he understands that this is not just about him and the act is not just about fucking, but him making love to you.

He growls into your lips and you gasp as he begins to move with more purpose inside you, feeling the sweat all over your body and forehead, clinging to his shoulders and gently digging your nails into his skin also lightly illuminated by sweat.

"Do you have any idea how long I imagine this?" he whispers against your lips, moving his hips and pounding that sweet spot inside you, making you moan beneath him.

But he quiets your moans with his lips, not wanting anyone out there to hear you, it would be too risky.

"Aemond," you say his name in a moan, biting your lips.

"What's wrong, my sweet girl? Does it hurt?" he says to start moving more gently.

"N-no. It just... feels so good," you manage to say over the sensual movement of his hips that make you see stars behind your eyes.

The act doesn't last long and very soon Aemond makes you reach your highest point, making you experience a sensation you had no idea about all over your body and he also spills all his seed inside you, grunting and moaning from the pleasure as he feels your walls squeezing him deliciously.

And then, both of you sweaty and trying to catch your breath, you embrace and take a moment in his bed.

You feel a tingle between your legs that is more than gratifying and Aemond, for the first time in a long time, feels at peace and completely at ease, especially having you in his arms at this moment.

There was no time for regrets and worries, it was all done. So the two of you dive into that little world where only the two of you exist.

But even though you didn't want to think about it, you think about the future, with uncertainty beginning to invade you, as you inhale Aemond's scent, hiding your face between his neck and chest, embracing him as he encloses you in his arms and gently caresses your bare shoulder with his thumb, listening to his soft breathing above you.

You let out a sigh, close your eyes and wish you could stay like this forever, starting to feel your eyes water and that huge worry in your chest for what you just did.

When Aemond speaks.

"In the morrow I will talk to your father and ask for your hand."

He says in a soft voice and everything in you comes to a complete standstill, listening to him attentively.

"I'm sure he won't be able to resist my proposal. No one will be able to stop us when they know I have claimed your mainhead, not even my mother and grandsire. And then... we will have our Valyrian wedding and there will be no turning back," he murmurs and then places a soft smile on his lips, "You will be mine, as much as you already are now."

You feel him leave a soft kiss in your hair and you smile softly, moving closer towards him, if possible.

"Sounds like an excellent plan, my love," you whisper, grateful.

And finally you can be at peace now.

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llamagoddessofficial · 5 months ago

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📚 d’you…have any more, perchance?

Every now and then, I watch too much Game of Thrones, and I imagine the UF skeletons as a royal family who each bonds with a dragon that grows up beside them. Whilst Gaster and Papyrus have dragons that are as 'tame' as dragons can be, Sans (the mercurial and violent crown prince) has an equally violent dragon that frequently sets things on fire and eats people. Its behaviour gets more dire as it gets larger and larger, going from eating rats in its fits of rage, to eating cows and even people. The dragons would kinda thematically represent each skeleton's inner true feelings; Papyrus holds himself to strict high account so his dragon obeys commands but can be incredibly vicious when given the chance to let loose, Gaster understands himself in his old age so his dragon is serene, but Sans is confused and angry so his dragon wildly lashes out.

You show up in court, for some reason or another, whether an invited member of aristocracy or a low-born working there. Sans' dragon is instantly smitten with you. The beast that hardly lets its own master touch it will follow you around and bump its snout against you as gently as it can without its massive size bowling you right over - it frequently carries you off to its nesting tower when it's tired, and (alarmingly) seems to want you to ride it. The dragon's attachment to you leads to Sans spending more time with you... his crush on you is gradually revealed.

Something something, love softens all beasts, Sans just needed real connection instead of being berated by his family, you get the idea. I'm a sucker for love being the answer.

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yuurei20 · 6 months ago

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Is it true that Cater is a playboy? I've seen some people saying that he's a Playboy, but I'm not sure if its canon. Thanks!!

Hello hello! ^^ Thank you for this question!

This was also mentioned a little bit in response to an earlier question about Cater's habit of flirting with people, which includes a compilation of screenshots of what is probably the kind of scenes that people are thinking about when they talk about Cater being a playboy!

But I think this might depend on your definition of "playboy" 👀

As of this post, the only canonical romantic relationship we have heard of in the game (on EN 👀) is Ace and his ex-girlfriend!

If your definition of "playboy" is "someone who dates a lot of different people," then "playboy" does not apply to Cater, as far as we know :>

What we do know is this!

His family moved around a lot when he was a child so, at some point, he started intentionally keeping his interpersonal relationships shallow rather than try to forge meaningful connections:

"That's why I always tried to be on good terms with everyone, rather than forge strong bonds with a chosen few. Like a circus performer who has a grand old time with people from around the world, and then packs up and moves on."

While never stated outright, it is a common theory that this is why Cater keeps Trey at arm's length during Wish Upon a Star:

Trey is already his closest friend, so Cater might be keeping up a buffer zone of secrets like what his true wish for the Star Sending is so that they do not become any closer, and their inevitable parting will be less painful.

Lilia tries to encourage Cater, saying that, in deciding not to get too close to any one person he may be the wisest one there, but Cater is not convinced that Lilia can truly empathize:

"Lilia's developed cherished relationships while living in the same place his whole life. There's no way he could ever understand how helpless I feel."

Another thing we know about Cater is that he might be feeling the loss of one, specific friend in particular! He tells Silver that he remembers making a friend at a new school one time, only to immediately learn that he would be moving away again the next month.

It is interesting that he mentions this one friend in particular--were they the catalyst? Was that the point when he decided that he would never get close to another person? We do not know 👀

If you are seeing "playboy Cater" coming from the JP side of the fandom, it is possibly because his speech patterns are that of a チャラい character on JP!

I think "flirt" is a decent translation for チャラい? 🧐 (It was localized as "shallow" on EN, and is the reason why Eliza rejects Cater during the Phantom Bride event.)

They are characters that talk/look flashy, seem shallow, and tend to flirt with everyone equally rather than picking someone specific to pursue. (Orange hair is common but is not required ww)

This survey of 3,324 people voted the top three チャラい anime characters as Moroboshi Ataru (Urusei Yatsura), Saeba Ryo (City Hunter) and Lupin III, to give you an idea of the チャラい character archetype ^^

And a common theme of Twst is: appearances can be deceiving!

Vil and Lilia seem to suspect Cater of having "a morose side that the rest of us never see" hidden by his sunny disposition, but Cater claims otherwise 👀

Much like Epel appears delicate but is actually the opposite and Lilia appears young but is actually old, it is possible that Cater intentionally acts shallow while actually he has a complex inner world--he is flighty not because he is trying to attract people, but because he is trying to keep them away.

More here! ^^

・Cater's Inner Life ・Cater's Childhood

To the original question: I do not believe that we have heard about Cater having any relationships (romantic or otherwise) at all except for one single friend from pre-NRC, which might not qualify him as a "playboy"! ^^

#twstask #twisted wonderland

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b33zlebubz · 11 months ago

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RECKLESS ABANDON--------

CHAPTER ONE - school, life, and a punch to the face TASK FORCE 141 X READER (PLATONIC) MASTERLIST || AO3 LINK || NEXT CHAPTER TAGS: gender neutral reader, angst, fluff, slow burn found family, PTSD, trauma bonding, kidnapping, reader is a foster kid in high school, family drama, blood, violence, guns

"After your life falls apart at the seams very early on, you work hard to keep the small amount of peace still have. Foster care is rough, work is draining, school is a drag...but you eventually find yourself in a good place. All of that quickly goes to waste, however, when your family's unfinished business finally finds its way back to you."

If hell is real, you’re pretty sure you’re dead.

Time drags on; seconds feeling more like hours and hours feeling like an eternity—punctuated only by the shriek of the occasional bell. It’s a familiar limbo you’ve grown to tune out in favor of your daydreaming, interrupted only by the end of a period or the sound of your name being called from across the room. Your pencil taps idly against the desk with the beat of your heel against the floor. Untied shoelaces pull taught under your feet when you shift to lean forwards, squinting at the equations scribbled across the whiteboard by a wrinkled, dark hand. Numbers and letters swirl together.

Mrs. Hall. An elderly, frail, equally as tired woman—worn down by decades of bullshit brought on by stubborn, unmotivated students much like the kids behind you, whispering and snickering in a way that made your eye twitch with deep irritation. Still, you’re not much better, your mind lost in thought staring at rain that pounds against the ground of upstate Texas until the sound of your name stirs you from the depths of your own brain. When you look up, confused, Mrs. Hall stares back at you with an expecting stare—and a few students are turned around to stare at you.

You’re also pretty sure if hell is real—it's the American Public School System.

“Uh…”

“The three X’s in number five,” Mrs. Hall taps the equation on the board with the marker. “On the homework.”

“Right. Sorry,” your tired eyes flicker down to the chicken scratch on the paper in front of you, scanning the crumpled paper for the answer you hastily scribbled down earlier that day. “Three, square root of two, and negative one?”

“Incorrect.”

You bite the inside of your cheek, scratching at your neck as you try and fail not to notice when one of the boys behind you stops whispering mid-sentence and stares daggers into the back of your neck. Shit. Fuck.

That’s the last time you do someone else’s algebra homework. Math, in all its forms, was your academic Achilles heel.

The rest of fourth period escapes you. After what feels like a lifetime and a half of talking and scribbling on your paper, the bell rings out across the classroom. Like Pavlov’s dogs—the students instinctually rush to life—shoving chairs and throwing backpacks over their shoulders, eager to get on with the day.

You're quick to sweep your things into your backpack and high-tail it towards the door of the classroom before a certain boy behind you can notice you've left already.

Mrs. Hall says your first name again. You stop in your tracks, not missing how your fellow student sends you an angry look as he strides past to leave—crumpling the homework you did for him the night before to add to the effect. He must be telepathic, because you swear you can hear his voice without him even saying anything.

"You're dead."

Your feet shuffle towards the door, "can't talk, gonna be late—"

"I'll write you a pass."

"I have lunch next, though."

"No you don't." Mrs. Hall scoffs, shooting you an unamused look from over her rectangular glasses. "You think I don't know your schedule by now?"

You awkwardly shift your weight from one foot to the next, "worth a try."

"Sit," she gestures beside her.

You hesitate, almost arguing further, but you sigh instead. Getting lectured actually sounded much better than whatever hell waited for you out in the hallway the second you walked outside. You let your backpack fall from your shoulders as you drag it over with you to collapse into the chair beside your teacher's desk. Your eyes flicker up to where her frail hands card through some papers.

"You graduate in two months, dear." She reminds you, as if you haven't been scratching the tallied days into a spare notebook like you're on death row. "Your test scores are average but all the homework seems to be…lacking. If you even do it at all."

Average. A word that's been thrown around a lot regarding your name, which you intended to stick with. Average meant nobody would stick their nose in your business—that you could blend in with the crowd and avoid any and all weird glances and low whispers. You made the mistake of showing off once, to snap back at your dickhead classmate; only to end up doing his bidding for the rest of the semester.

You figure Mrs. Hall won't take very well to being told that the reason you aren't completing your homework is because you're too busy doing Ben Davis's under the threat that he won't smash your face against the lockers again. Broken noses are a special level of hell, but it still isn't as low as the torture that is highschool.

"Maybe I joined some sports," you quip sarcastically. "Don't have as much time as I used to."

She only deadpans at you.

You stare innocently back at her. If you play dumb enough, maybe she'll finally give up.

"I'm not attacking you. Just worried. If you need some extra time because—" she lowers her voice and the bracelets around her tiny wrist jingle as she waves it about, "---because of your family life, or anything…I'm willing to give it to you."

Your brow lowers, annoyance beginning to nip at your nerves as you sit up a little straighter.

Pity. You've long grown tired of it. You weren't some fragile orphan—no. You were an adult who, in two months, would finally be free from the clutches of your frustrated social worker and the slew of whatever excited, naive couples the system dumped you on. People have been tip-toeing around you your whole life, and it never fails to make your fists clench.

"My grades are average, you said," you say, stern—poking the score on one of your tests with a pointer finger. "I don't need help."

"I don't doubt you don't need help, sweetheart. But you're a smart kid. Really smart, if you put the effort in. I'm just saying if you ever need any extra—"

"I'm fine. If you really wanna help, you won't make me late to my next class."

Mrs. Hall seems to freeze, stunned at the bite her otherwise quiet student seems to bear. The clock ticks above your head, the rain pitters against the window outside and, for a moment, shame floods your senses; but it fades as the seconds pass and that concerned look on her face deepens.

You're the first to look away, picking up your pack and turning for the door. "See you tomorrow, Mrs. Hall."

"Wait."

You stop, tossing your head back with a sigh. "What?"

"Tie your shoes, sweetheart," she says, her voice kind as she turns away to tap your stack of tests on the desk. "You'll trip walking around like that."

You only frown and duck out the door.

The rest of the school day passes in a familiar haze. You space out throughout two of your classes, goof off for the rest, and get your shit handed to you the second school is out. Ben takes the time to lecture you as well after he levels you in one punch—and you sit rubbing your jaw, bored, as he goes on and on about how you did that shit on purpose and next time, you're fucking dead.

He needed a perfect score to pass the class. In a low moment of pain, you promised it to him despite the fact that your algebra skills had much to be desired. Still, with a little bit of extra effort—you managed to make it through most of the second semester without a black eye.

You're the one that always bleeds; but a part of you finds it funny how he always finds a way to talk himself into angry tears, storming off somewhere distant while kids scramble to get out of his way to avoid the same fate as you.

And, as always, you pick yourself up, wipe the blood from your face onto the sleeve of your jacket—and walk away.

Because that's all you can do.

The rain settles deep in your clothes as you make your way home, music loud in your earbuds. It's silent and gray, as it has been all week, and your thoughts are mere static as you drag your feet back to your front doorstep. Your bed is calling for you after such a shitty day and the bruise forming on your left eye is just making the blankets seem all the more welcoming.

You barely notice how your door is already unlocked when you enter.

Inside, the house is just as silent and empty as the rest of your street. Rain drips to the floor in a steady rhythm as you pad across the living room of the house, dropping your backpack to the floor. Muscle memory leads you to the bathroom—where things are, as usual, spotless.

You've seen plenty of bad homes and residencies during your time in the system. Most of them blurred together in a long string of things you wished to forget; either by the caretakers' fault or your own. This house, though, was high on your list of favorites. Your folks were never around, and if they were, they were asleep. When you weren't working; you usually had the house to yourself.

"Fuck," You breathe, prodding at the swelling flesh around your eye. You run some water over it and the irritation dulls slightly as dried blood turns the water pink. Excuses run rampant through your mind as you scramble for a way to explain the injury---because you're pretty sure they won't believe you if you said you tripped again.

That's when you catch movement from your doorway. Shuffling.

You whip around just as the movement disappears, and suddenly the quiet house turns eerily silent. Your eyes lock on the doorway as the sink continues to run and water continues to drip from your clothes.

Nothing.

You turn the sink off.

Your brow furrows, eyes locked on the cracked door of your bathroom as your hand grabs hold of the first weapon you can get your hands on—a shower curtain rod. One foot after the other, you peak around the corner.

Again, nothing.

Out of some itch of paranoia—or just completely on coincidence—you happen to turn your head to the wall next to you. Instead of an empty corridor like you expected, you're met with a face.

A face that immediately lunges at you the second your eyes widen.

You stumble to the side with a yell just for the individual to grab your arm, and the curtain rod falls to the floor with a clatter. You struggle as he yanks you to the side and around the corner and, before you have the chance to react, cold metal is pressed to your back.

"Don't fuckin' move," a voice hisses in your ear, and you stiffen.

You wheeze, struggling against his hold, "who–"

"Your gardian fucking angel," he sneers, shifting to clap a hand over your mouth. You thrash again—but it's useless. The gun presses painfully into your side. "I said don't move."

A thump echoes through the room, and suddenly you see why.

You fight to keep your breathing under control as you stay firm against your captor's geared chest, still as a statue. Your heart slams against your ribs and your ears as you listen to each heavy footstep against the floor, and your eyes widen whenever a second soldier creeps down your hallway. Standard camo and green clothes shuffling as he walks.

You catch the long muzzle of a rifle over the soldier's shoulder, and suddenly you find yourself leaning into the gun pressed into your back. The hand on your mouth tightens, silently shifting you away from the door.

The shifting of gear and the click of the rifle echo in the silent house as your nails dig into the skin of your captor's wrist. You watch a muscle in his stubbled jaw twitch near your face as the sound of your first name echoes through the hall, sing-song and taunting.

You squeeze your eyes shut.

Think. Think. Think.

“If y’know what’s best for ya’…” A thick Scottish accent taunts from down the hall as he nudges the curtain rod with his foot, causing it to scrape against the wood floors. “You’ll quit puttin’ up a fight and show yourself.”

You glance over to meet your captor’s gaze. A flicker of anger crosses his eyes, nose wrinkling into a scowl. He has a scar across his cheek.

Then, suddenly, he shifts, pulling you further away from the doorway. His grip on your shoulder is deathly tight as it digs into your clothes. He lifts his finger from the trigger of his gun only to bring it to his lips in a silent command to stay quiet, stay with me.

Panic burns bright and all-encompassing through your veins. For whatever reason—all your body will let you do is shake and listen.

He ducks around the corner, pulling you with him. You have to force your feet to move.

The Scottish soldier stops just at the end of the hall, hulking frame and what must be at least thirty pounds of gear making him a jarring sight against the flowered wallpaper of your foster home. He must have an earpiece of some kind; because you hear him whisper every so often as he sweeps the hallways.

"They're here," he mutters. "Little fuck's just good at hiding."

It's tiny and muffled, but in the deathly silence of the house you can make out two voices in his earpiece that reply to him. One female, the other male. You can't decipher what they say but their responses make him growl in frustration.

"C'mon, we don't got all day…"

Tense, your captor shoves you along to another room. He signals something down the hall, where you spot more movement in the house. More soldiers—these ones dressed in similar, dark garb to the man who still presses a gun to your side. They have bigger weapons, concealing helmets.

Startled, you trip over your shoelaces.

Your captor scrambles to grab you before you clatter to the floor. He curses just as the Scottish soldier whips around, gun pointed and ready.

There's a solid two seconds of complete silence. Your gaze meets with the Scott and his eyes widen. Then, he spots the other man with a gun pointed at you.

That's when all hell breaks loose.

You scramble to your feet and bolt. The Scott is the first to grab you, and he's met with teeth deep in his arm. He yells out as you kick free, gagging on the metallic substance that floods your mouth.

There's shouting. Movement. Gunfire lights up your house with noise and lights as you wipe your mouth, stumble, and fly down the stairs in a blind dash for your front door.

Instead, you run directly into something solid—Landing you flat on your ass. Again.

Panting, panicking, your eyes rake up dark figure; past two giant boots, a geared chest, and hands that clench a rifle in their grip to meet a masked face and bored eyes. You scramble backwards against the wall with a yelp. The sound of yelling, gunfire, and heavy footsteps flood the rest of the house as the masked man's eyes widen at you. You stare at each other; you, sizing him up and him, confused.

"Graves?!"

"Oh, for fuck's sake!"

"Commander! We lost the kid!"

"Does anyone have a visual??"

"L.T.!"

The skull-faced man finally leaps into action at the sound of what must be his rank—because he's suddenly moving faster than you can realize more soldiers are flooding around the corner. In a flurry of practiced movement, he grabs them.

You yell out as he knees one of the men and shoots the other. Blood splatters across the walls and your clothes. Then, he fires twice more at the soldier unconscious on the ground—and the house goes quiet other than your pounding heartbeat.

The towering man before you shifts, and the floorboards creak under his feet. He rolls his shoulders and let's out a breath as he stands, slowly, up to his full height. He turns, and the same blood that splatters across the walls runs in tiny rivulets across the skull of his mask. His voice thick and low when he speaks.

"You broken?"

Your shaking hands lower from your ears as your eyes then rake across the corpses at his feet, but it's no use. Through the ringing in your ears, your racing mind is unable to put together what he says for a few minutes. It's even more impossible to tear your eyes away from the blood splattered against the patterned wallpaper.

You swallow and shake your head.

"Good." Nonchalant, he lowers his gun and shouts down the hall.

"Johnny, you with me?"

"Over here, L.T.," grunts the Scottish voice from down the hall. "That little shit Graves—"

"Let 'em go. We'll deal with 'em later. We got what we needed."

Johnny curses in response, but mutters a begrudging "copy" as he saunters over—nursing the clear bite mark in his arm.

Then, the Lieutenant's eyes shift in your direction. His hand twitches, almost reaching out to you, and you pull your legs closer to your chest against the wall. Blood soaks your untied laces. You clamp a hand over your mouth as you will your breathing to settle. It doesn't.

He freezes. Then, to your relief, he turns away and presses a finger to his ear.

"Bravo 0-7 to Actual; five shadows have been compromised on the property. Looks like the Shadows got the word the same time we did. Could be others, too. Things got bloody, but…" The lieutenant's eyes meet yours again as he speaks. Through the bloodied skull mask, his gaze holds a calm resolve that's probably supposed to be comforting, but it only makes your skin prickle.

"...we got the kid."

It's quiet, but you can hear static before someone speaks on the other end of the communication device.

"Copy that, Bravo. We'll clean up the mess," A female voice replies. "Bring 'em home safe, boys."

"Roger that."

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