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wandasfifthwife · 4 months

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(3) locker room ✩‧₊˚ competing series

hockey coach!wanda x fem!ex figure skater reader

tw: SMUT MDNI, r has a v&breasts, top wanda, bottom r, service dom!wanda, r is a bit needy, wanda absolutely goes feral once given the green light, oral (r receiving), fingering (r receiving), wanda uses the shower head on r, sort of public sex (locker room shower), cum kink if you squint

a/n: not proofread. THE SMUT IS HERE LMAO. I was a bit too excited to write and publish this, I’ll come back and edit later. Anyways enjoy this filth.

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It was all a performance. Every shy touch pushing the narrative, cultivating confident hand placements. The hand on your shoulder would find itself on your waist, pulling you towards her.

The first time she kissed you she was nervous, her hands holding you close but still at a distance. Every one since then has been pushing you down a dangerous path. They all made you want more, you wanted to fall over the edge with her.

The desire was growing each day. When she kissed you goodnight. When she placed a hand on your inner thigh. When she ran her eyes over your body. It made your legs weak.

Earlier in the day, just as the sun was rising she had been at your apartment. It was an easy Saturday morning, resting in each other with the tv in the background. Light touches almost hovering over each other.

You felt like you were floating, goosebumps lining your body as her fingers drew chills.

She paid you no mind, whether intentional or not she was stirring your emotions. Her eyes were focused on the screen, an occasional whispered compliment on whatever the house designing show had to showcase. It was infuriating almost. Her lips would sometimes touch your neck, a gentle touch here and there. She had strung you up and left you there when she had to leave for an appointment.

You laid where you once were, unsure of what to do until her contact showed up on your phone. She sounded out of breath as she asked you to come to the arena. You clambered into your car, almost speeding down the roads.

You didn’t give much of a hint as to where she was, last thing mention on the phone was that she was in the gym. The problem was that it was empty save for one man on the stair climber. You passed by without a care, feet wondering into where the ground turned into tiles.

There were a multitude of lockers aligning the wall, which were all off except for one. One had a small sign, the red light giving away that it was occupied as opposed to the surrounding green LEDs.

You called out her name, walking towards the showers and not thinking to check behind you. There were enclosed spaces, each separated by a wall. You walked to one, feeling bored so you pull at the level until the water came pouring down. It was in way better condition than you originally assumed.

Wet footprints sounded behind you, slight nerves picking up in fear it might be another woman besides the one you came looking for. They were eased when she came into view, a towel in her hand.

“You got here quick. I was going to try and shower before,” she emphasizes her words by lifting her towel up. Your eyes follow the movement and how it extends her muscles.

You feel your heart pick up, the feeling she had started before coming back to life. You point behind you, nonsense coming from you, “I don’t mind waiting, I could take a shower as well. My water bill is expensive.”

“Okay,” she says and begins to set her stuff at the one right beside the one you were standing at. You shouldn’t be surprised, but you had wished she would make a move. That she would hint at wanting to join you, maybe showing interest in you sexually.

You breathe deep and undress where you are, closing the curtain just before doing so. You reach a hand out to set your clothes on an outside bench. The water was hot, the smoke rising and collecting on the surrounding black tiles. It was much nicer than the shower you had at home and it genuinely surprised you.

She realized before you, calling out and saying she had soap if you needed. Her tone was teasing, asking if you were here to take a dry shower. You called out for her to hand it to you. The curtain made its clinking sound, causing your heart to fall out of your chest. You flinch, freezing as you come face to face with her. Her completely clothed body contrasting yours.

Her eyes flicker between your face and bare skin. No words escape her, face neutral as she hands you the soap and leaves with a jerk to the curtain.

It made your heart jump out of your chest when a second later you hear her curse. She brushes past the curtains again, descending towards you. It was two steps before your back collides with the shower wall.

A protest is taken from you when her lips collide with yours. She spreads your hands out beside you, intertwining them and holding them. There’s a forceful pressure in how you’re held between her body and the wall behind you. A heat builds within you and around the two of you as you drown in each other.

Her lips find the sensitive spot on your neck, pulling a moan from you, “can’t resist, I can’t wait anymore.”

She slides your arms to wrap around her neck, “I need to hear you say you want this. I’ll drop everything if you’re not ready.”

You smile and nod as you vocalize your consent. She’s lifting your left leg with a hand dragging under your thigh and propping it on her waist.

“At any time you need to stop or you want to slow down, tell me please, okay?”

You mumble your confirmation, hands fiddling with her wet hair. She places gentle kisses down your body, starting under your jaw and trailing down towards your inner thigh.

Her attention is completely focused, eyes glazed over already. A whine is pulled from you the second her tongue is licking across your heart. She presses it harder onto your clit, morning when she feels you tug at her hair.

You have a hand in her hair, another pressing against your mouth. A hand on your hip holds you open, barely putting in any effort whenever your hips twitch or try and close around her head.

“You’re so pretty,” she mumbles into you.

She slides the first finger in, a shameful whine coming out from behind your hand. The water falls behind you two, the heat and pressure below pressure you to breathe deep.

When she feels you’re ready, she begins to fit another finger in. She doesn’t miss how you shiver when she angles her fingers.

“Like that, sweet thing?”

A string of yeses fill the room, your tone breathy and sweet. She’s driving them in harder, directing them right at the spot that has your legs quivering.

Her tongue presses against your clit, building pleasure between your legs. You whimper at the sudden bite to your inner thigh. It was then that she decided to slide a third finger.

“Wanda,” you breathe out, back arching to chase after what she had been building.

Her fingers twist, trusting against your upper wall just as she sucks on your thigh.

“Oh my—please.”

You’re tugging at her hair, gasps and incoherent mumbles tumbling out from your lips.

“You’re squeezing me so tight,” she sucks at your clit, grinning at how your body reacts, “gonna come?”

Too much time passes and she’s impatient. Wanda thrusts her fingers in harder, a complete contrast of how gentle her voice sounds.

“Love. Are you close?”

“Yes,” you whimper, “don’t stop.”

“Wouldn’t dream of doing so.“

With a final kiss to your clit you’re sent over the edge. You grip at the tile, nails digging into the grooves. Wanda removes her fingers instantly, almost frantic as she brings her mouth to your heat. She soaks up every shiver, tongue swiping until all she can taste is herself.

You mumble her name, “kiss me.”

She’s shooting up, meeting you halfway. A muffle moan sounding from her as soon as you do.

“Mm,” you smile into her lips, “you taste good.”

“It drives me crazy,” she admits and pulls you back into a passionate kiss. A hand comes and strokes at your back, calming you down. It was when you felt your mind begin to clear, the effects of the orgasm fading away when she had started biting around your neck.

“If you continue like that,” you begin, stopping to gasp when she actually bites on your shoulder.

“Or what,” she questions, her eyes look at to the shower head with a shit-eating smile. You follow where she looked and jerk her head back by her hair.

“Every minute I spend with you I swear you just want me to believe you’re a total goof.”

“Is pleasing my girlfriend so bad?

“That’s a shower head.”

“So? Give me a chance,” she gives the worst puppy dog eyes, and yet you still can’t turn her down.

Her hands pull it off of the holder, the smile never leaving her face. Your emotions were apparent on your face. She laughs and kisses you sweetly, “it won’t hurt if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“I don’t think that, I just think you’re crazy sometimes.”

She hums, ignoring you and opening your legs. The water pressure feels like you’re grinding down on a pillow.

“You make the cutest faces,” she murmurs quietly to herself. She tilts her wrist for it to angle just below your clit. The action has your nails tearing into her back.

“Feel good, hmm?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine, head falling onto her shoulder, “keep it there, please, please.”

She shushes you, repeating how she’s going to take care of you. She changes the setting, eyes steady on you and each reaction she pulls from you.

“Gonna come already?”

“Keep it there,” you move your head to kiss her chin, “please Wanda.”

“I will,” she whispers, “I will.”

When she realizes you’re coming, she’s hanging the shower head back to not overstimulate you. You’re coming down your high, breathing deep into the space you’ve created between you and her.

“You’re so beautiful. I can’t help myself.”

You laugh breathlessly, head tilting back as she kissing around your chest and neck.

The sound filling her heart with joy. You stay cooped in each other’s hold, feeling comfortable not saying anything for a few minutes.

“Was it okay?”

“It was wonderful,” you kiss her nose, “thank you. I feel bad, you haven’t gotten off.”

“You don’t have to, watching you was enough.”

You push her back and stare at her, “did you really come from watching me?”

She pinches under your breasts, “no. I just got myself off when I was eating you out earlier. I wasn’t lying, seeing you come is enough.”

“Speaking of,” wanda grabs at your waist, “do you want to come again?”

You smack her hands away, a warning that if she doesn’t actually shower, you’ll shoo her off to another shower. She does so well for the first part, enjoying herself and being with you.

It was sweet how she checked in, hands gentle washing the soap into your hair. It was when she had to start washing your body that she became suspicious. What set you her was how she was taking too long to wash your breast.

She had stood behind you, hands running down the front of your body while she breathed deep into your ear about how she wanted to take you while someone was in a shower beside you. You realized then that your warning was fake. She too realized, another playful smile finding its way onto her face as she felt your body melt into hers again.

The water had become cold by the two of you came back to reality and finish “showering.”

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@dorabledewdroop @aru-son @thelittleliars

@sokovianbaby @natsbiggestfan1

@r0manxff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx

@emiliaisdead @esposadejoyhuerta

@shinysuitcloud @xxsekhmet

@casquinhaa @scarlettbitchx

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x female reader #wanda x fem!reader #dom wanda #wanda x you #top wanda #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x fem!reader #mommy wanda #hockey coach!wanda #competing series #marvel wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff #wanda maximommy #bottom reader #service dom!wanda

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sha-biest · 3 months

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MODEL MIKEY ACTOR LEO INFLUENCER/TECH BILLIONAIRE DONNIE PR APRIL OH OH OH OH I AM LOSING MY MIND I AM GOING FERAL !!! HEHEHEHEH IM HAVING SO MUCH FUN READING ABOUT THIS

What roles do you think Leo would play?? Is casting a mutant turtle man still difficult in Hollywood or has humankind pretty much warmed up to everyone now? :D

Would Mikey, as a hobby, be one of those makeup gurus who can make like, crazy beautiful works of art out of their makeup?

DOES RAPH LIKE MODELING??? I can imagine him being kinda shy about it at first in my head, but that characterization might just be the influence of fanon lmao

WHAT ARE EACH OF THE BOYS FAVORITE BRANDS/DESIGNS TO MODEL FOR? Off the top of my head I can see Mikey doing high fashion/haute couture, Donnie in luxury suits, Leo doing street wear maybe?? And Raph in sports/fitness?

Who does April have the most PR trouble with? My mind immediately jumps to Donnie cuz I feel like he wouldn't have a filter at all pffft

IM SO EXCITED FOR THIS AU HEHEHE THANK YOU FOR MAKING IT IM BRAINROTTING SO HARD <3333

ALSO!! I was thinking that Raph could just step into the footsteps of his father and make clothes.. princess dresses to be precise and just.. the thought of big buff Raph sewing pretty dresses is everything to me!! I can totally see him doing some modeling for his own dresses but more for himself than anyone else and like you said, he'd be really shy about it! I see both Donnie and Leo in luxury suits and then the fit they typically wear and Leo would be more into adventure type movies/series! And again PR trouble would come from both Donnie and Leo and she is trying not to put them together in one interview because she knows she will have a field day with them fjhbfeikb As for Mikey.. I feel like he'd be really into street wear when he's outside his job and then fod his jobs he's wearing the most expensive dresses CW for eyestrain/bright colors! They are really popping here

#rottmnt #biestart #bodyguard au #cw eyestrain #bright colors #rotating them in my brain

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aleiiii · 3 months

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How did Ná met the mystic monkeys? Separately.

yippeee these asks are fun, gets the good ole brain workin

ALSO IM NOT GREAT AT WRITING SO I APOLOGIZE IN ADVANCE LMAO

any suggestions would be great too harhar

***

For Wukong, Nà met him with the help(?) of the lil monkey babies that live in the small monkey village just before the monkey kings (shame) temple. She enjoys hiking, so she takes her drawing materials and equipment with her in hopes of capturing all the beautiful sights she comes across - also to just wanting to visit this temple for the monkey king. While she’s there one day, one of these monkeys take it upon themselves to take a lil souvenir back to their king. Nà was determined to get her sketchbook back (any artist who’s deeply attached to their sketchbook raise your hand 🙋🏻‍♀️) , so in a wild goose chase she ends up at the front doors of his temple. I like to think she knocks on these doors in hopes of seeing a temple maiden, perhaps they could help her, instead she gets monkey king, in the flesh, thinking he’s getting his order of noodles from MK. Absolutely floored, she doesn’t know what to say, probably just pointing in the general direction behind him to the monkey that jacked her sketchbook. Wukong gladly gets the sketchbook back to her, getting a few glances of the subject matter inside… he’s intrigued. I would think after that, Nà would continue coming back to the monkey village, and the little chimps ending up taking her things to get her to come back to the temple. I wonder who told them to do that…

For Macaque, I’m still in the works on how these two might meet up. I kinda have the idea that they run into each other somewhere in the theatre when Mac is having his theatre kid moment there, and Nà taking a few jobs there in helping with set designs (multi faceted artist me thinks). They might exchange a few words, Nà complementing this mysterious storyteller on his props (and show). I feel like they won’t truly meet each other until the season 3 finale. Maybe Nà catching glimpses of a strange shadow at the corner of her eye at times at times when she’s hiking after that encounter at the theatre. Strange but doesn’t think too much into it ( the city does have a few demons lurking around but yknow best to just mind your business) Perhaps, while Wukong is under the lady bone demons possession, she’s been taken in by MK and the gang (when they’re with Pigsy,Tang and etc.) A strange first meeting, him all tied up and what not. A meeting nonetheless. Queue Mac’s onslaught of teasing. She might connect the dots later that Macaque was that mysterious guy in the theatre she saw a while ago.

Also lil interaction with all three of them at the end of season 3, Mac starting his persistent annoying behavior to Wukong. Who else was gunna watch her while Wukong was on vacation 🤨

#I typed half of this during my art critique….#art stuff #asks #lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk sun wukong #sun wukong #lmk monkey king #lmk macaque #lmk six eared macaque #six eared macaque #macaque #lmk liu er mihou #liu er mihou #lmk oc x canon #lmk oc

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loaksky · 1 year

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— 𝘱𝘶𝘭𝘭 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘵𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘴

the deets — you are a warrior of very few words, yet oftentimes your gaze betrays you. this widens the rift between you and the eldest sully, but will seeking refuge with the metkayina soothe the burn? especially when the alleviation comes in the form of a certain ocean boy?

the who — ao’nung x fem tipani!reader, a lil neteyam x fem!tipani reader

the word count — 7.1k (i thought this was gonna be longer, regardless i have zero self control)

the tags — slight e2l (you and ao’nung get off on the wrong foot), unofficial love triangle (reader has two people hooked lmao), angst (wouldn’t be me without a little heartache), fluff.

the warnings — language, ao’nung’s a cheeky lil shit, neteyam’s in denial and makes things difficult. ao'nung gives reader a lil kith.

the notes — this is my first request! it took me a moment to finish this because i wanted to really research the tipani to characterize reader the best i could. similarly, i feel like we don’t see much of ao’nung past the point of him being a little shit in the movie, so i had to take some creative liberties regarding his character. thank you so much to the anon who requested! this is so long, holy shit, but i hope i did it justice! :)

(also not proofread well, my bad lmaooo).

masterlist

YOU WERE BORN TO FIGHT. That was what your mother and father had told you day in and day out, from the rise of the sun, to the last eclipse. It was what they had told you when you began your training, when you had started to deepen your studies, and finally, when they clung to their final breaths in the smog of the burning jungle.

Your village was scarce, a dying lot, as families broke off and settled farther into the jungle, high above the forest floors and into the canopies of the looming trees.

Jake had heard about you, heard about your dwindling family, your mighty spirit. You were barely older than his eldest, just shy of ten when he’d taken you in, told the clan to revere you as their own. You were tough to crack, stoic, quiet, as you grew into a force to be reckoned with.

The only thing that chipped your facade came in the form of Jake Sully’s oldest son.

Neteyam, you’d come to realize, was always the diligent one; courageous, firm, and commanded any space he occupied. But he was curious about you. Curious about the lone wolf who wouldn’t even bat an eye in his direction. He poked and prodded, tried as he might, to crack a smile out of you in the first year or two, but found that you gave little reaction. The slightest tilt of the corner of your lips, the most infinitesimal furrow between your brow bones. It was triumph enough, but then things started to shift.

Though you’d softened around the Sully’s, especially Kiri who, despite being two years your junior, had doted on you like an older sister, Jake had seen potential in you and Neteyam as the fiercest duo.

It was only normal to consistently pair you two during your training, forcing the hands of time to twine you closer together as your iknimaya drew nearer. You’d both succeeded with flying colors and it was the first time Neteyam had touched you, crushing you in a hug so tight, you felt the breath and the sense leave your body.

You begrudgingly admit that from that moment on, you were wrapped around his finger.

Your heart would swell dangerously behind your ribcage every time his hand would come up to pat your head affectionately, stomach twisting in on itself when he’d flash you a pearly smile after each successful hunt. Neteyam made you feel, and it thrilled and horrified you all the same.

But despite basking in the warmth of his company, of being intertwined so intricately, you still feel grossly misplaced.

The thought of letting him in on the fact that he’s swayed your heart leaves a horrid taste in your mouth.

“It’s not like you to back down,” Kiri tells you as she helps you roll beaded tops and woven loincloths into the small satchel you’d designated for the flight to Awa’atlu.

The humans were closing in and Jake was growing desperate.

You stop, tongue in cheek as you settle back on your haunches.

“Some things are better left unsaid,” you reply, hands clasping in your lap as you level Kiri with a soft gaze through your thick lashes.

“Perhaps,” Kiri hums. “But will it settle well with you in the future when you think about your inaction?”

You stiffen a fraction, knowing that Kiri’s insinuation is a heavy one.

Will you be able to live without him knowing? Will it settle well when Neteyam courts another?

You doubt it will, but pride can be an ugly thing. You’d been taught by your parents, by your surroundings that reading into things farther than you must will only leave you scathed. You’re afraid to piece every lingering touch, every furtive glance, every sweet smile into something that paints an unwanted picture.

“The worst he could say is no,” Kiri presses. “You are his equal, his dearest friend. You could never ruin that.”

Kiri squashes every doubt you have with her encouraging words, so you take the plunge.

Neteyam is almost finished preparing for the journey when you poke your head into his tent, cheeks warm and blood pulsing erratically in your veins.

“One last walk through the forest?” you offer.

Neteyam grins from ear to ear, excusing himself before ducking out of the tent to meet you outside.

“Lead the way,” he gestures, voice deep like the velvet of the night sky.

You’re clammy as you walk a few paces in front of him, tongue tied and wracked with nerves as the forest comes alive so brightly around you. The bugs chirp and croak as you cross over fallen logs and climb through the dense flora.

You’re so deep in your head that you barely register Neteyam calling your name. It’s only when his hand clasps around your wrist that you jerk to a stop, neck craning to take in the concern that mars his freckled face.

“Everything okay?” he asks, head tilting to get a better look at you.

“I need to tell you something,” you blurt, swallowing down the courage threatening to escape your body.

“Of course,” he says, hand lacing with yours. “You can tell me anything.”

A breath catches in your throat before you finally spill.

“I don’t know what our future holds, but…” you trail off, distracted with how intensely he gazes down at you.

“But?”

“But I know that I want you in it,” you say, blinking when you realize that’s not at all how you wanted that to come out.

Neteyam’s head tilts again, this time confusion crosses his features.

You try again.

“What I mean to say is, I— well… I like you,” you admit, looking up to meet his golden gaze.

His face softens and your heart picks up speed.

“Oh, ________,” he whispers.

“Maybe I’ve always felt like this, I don’t know,” you continue, steeling your resolve. “But being around you, being with you, makes me feel light. Like I don’t have to bear the weight of the burden all on my own.”

You realize that this is beginning to go south when his mouth purses and instead of seeing you, he begins to look like he pities you.

“I’m sorry,” is all he says as he pulls his hand from your own. “We’re friends, ________.”

You look up at him and it feels like the forest has stilled enough for someone to strike it and shatter the peace.

“That’s all,” he reiterates. “I’m— I’m flattered, don’t misunderstand. You’re great, lovely, but…I don’t see you in that way.”

You recoil like you’ve been burned and Neteyam looks guilty.

“But…”

“C’mon,” he says, almost pleadingly. “We grew up together. You’re apart of my family. You’re like a si—“

“Don’t,” you whisper. “Don’t say it please.”

Neteyam sighs, deflating.

“I love you, you know that,” he urges. “But not in that way.”

Your lips press together tightly, shame filling every available space within you as you feel like the most minuscule speck underneath his burning eyes.

It’s like you’re both rooted to the earth, unable to part from the other, but you eventually fold first, backing away from his towering stance.

“________,” he sighs, like you’re just another task he has to deal with.

“Sorry,” you murmur. “I’m sorry.”

And you steal off into the glowing forest.

The waters of Awa’atlu glitter as you close in on the reefs. You lag behind the Sully’s, thoroughly taken by the prior night’s rejection.

You almost miss the tilt of the voyage, falling even further behind.

Neteyam peers over his shoulder, immediately noting your lack of focus as you fly with a wide berth between you and his family.

He falls back.

“You okay?” he asks over the flapping of wings.

He notices the puffs underneath your eyes when your gaze flits to him, but like a wall erecting itself, your face goes blank. You lean forward on your ikran and press her to move forward.

Neteyam is left at the rear now, watching you fall in tandem with Kiri who seems to light up at your first display of emotion.

The sun gleams againstglinting blue tides as silence blankets the newcomers, the only thing piercing the stillness is the squawk of the birds and the ripple of the waves.

You stand behind Kiri, staggered in a shallow of sand among the Sully's. You're the smallest of them all, hidden from view as the Metkayina begin murmuring.

“What a freak.”

Something tugs hard on your tail, and like muscle memory, your fist is flying. Your knuckles are caught before they strike and you look up into the foamy eyes of a towering boy whose skin is a gentle blue.

You pull your tail back, ears flat as you level him with a nasty glare.

The smirk playing at his lips disintegrates as Jake’s voice announces that his family are seeking refuge among the reefs.

You turn your attention back to the front as the woman, fierce despite being with child, takes Lo’ak’s hand and thrusts it towards the sky, announcing that his extra finger denotes demon blood.

The villagers gasp and you take a step forward, fists balled so tight you feel like they could burst through the skin. Lo’ak’s head is bowed, refusing to meet the intensity of the clan’s prying eyes, and you feel helpless.

Kiri squeezes your shoulder as Jake attempts to quell the crowd by hold up his own hands.

The murmuring intensifies as the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik stand at a distance, staring at each other in a silent exchange.

“Show them our ways,” the Olo’eyktan says after a final verdict. “So that they may not suffer the shame of being useless.”

Your body is rigid, tense as another ripple of speculation flutters through the crowd.

“My children will spearhead this by showing them the way of the water,” he says.

A deep voice makes a noise of protest behind you and your fist tightens around the strap of the satchel slung across your body, temper beginning to tick like a bomb ready to detonate.

The daughter of the leaders, Tsireya, is the one to show you to the marui that you’ll all occupy. It’s an empty one, uninhabited and clear of any belongings.

Tuk runs in, tossing her things to the wayside as she begins her inspection.

“Get settled in well, we will begin our first lesson before eclipse,” Tsireya smiles, then turns to you, trailing behind the Sully’s like their shadow per usual.

“I’m sorry about Ao’nung,” she says quietly, and you look up at the girl whose dimples dent her rounded cheeks.

“An apology means nothing if doesn’t come from the aggressor,” you say flatly, hiking up the roll of fabric tucked underneath your arm.

Tsireya’s ears flatten, her smile faltering as she nods her head.

“I suppose you’re correct,” she agrees. “The villagers are very steadfast in their ways. When change arrives, they are hesitant, but they’ll come around, promise.”

She takes your hand and gives your fingers a squeeze.

“Tell your friends not to be late,” she coos, pulling away from you to bound down the path you’d all come from moments before.

When you turn, Neteyam stands before you, skin dewy under the unrelenting heat of the pounding sun.

“Can I get this for you?” he asks, reaching for the items tucked under your arms.

You ease away, almost as skittish as the first nights you’d joined the Sully’s all those years ago. You feel shamefully like you’re back to square one as you shake your head wordlessly and Neteyam looks down at you with an indiscernible look on his face.

“________,” he murmurs, and you name sounds like a broken plea on his lips.

You push past him, taking a quick survey of your surroundings as you claim the level up, hammock tightened around two support posts under a woven canopy.

Your things are thrown haphazardly underneath the hammock and with your satchel, you’re steering quickly out of the marui.

“Hey, kid, where you running off to?” Jake calls out.

“Out,” is all you reply, steps quick down the unfamiliar webbing of the maruis’ woven walkways.

You’re on edge all over again, like you have to restart all of your valiant efforts to feel any semblance of comfort among another new clan. When you’d joined the Omatikaya, you were able to grasp onto the slivers of belonging through blending into the background, but now, as you pass villagers with skin as glittering and blue as the ocean, tails strong, and figures built, you feel so grossly misplaced.

You search for less, eyes falling near a swathe of shady trees and a shallow pool in the distance.

Your pursuit is futile as three looming figures emerge and begin surrounding you, basking you in their shadows.

“Are you a five-fingered freak like them?” One of them tries to swoop to grab your hand, but you recoil like their touch is acidic.

“Leave me alone,” you grumble, attempting to push past them.

Someone tugs sharply on your tail and you jerk back, hands and knees burrowing into the sharp grains of sand. A hand comes up to grab you by the top of your head, forcing your face skywards.

His curly hair is braided out of his face, the purse of his lips menacing.

“I asked you a question, weirdo.”

You hiss and his face contorts.

“I should—“

“Wune,” the voice is a warning.

A grunt of annoyance.

Wune lets go of your hair and pulls away from you. You all look in the direction of the voice, and your blood seems to curdle when you see the one who’d yanked your tail earlier in the day.

Ao’nung.

His chin jerks in the other direction and the three pass each other a knowing glance before retreating, leaving you to fall into a seated position against the sand.

You surprise yourself when tears begin to well in your eyes involuntarily.

“You okay?” Ao’nung asks hesitantly, crouching in front of you.

“Piss off,” you whisper, climbing to your feet as you quickly brush the tears from your waterline.

“Wait—“

“I said piss off,” you hiss, stalking away.

Awa’atlu is beautiful right before eclipse, sky bathed in orange and purples.

You’ve rejoined the Sully’s after your encounter with the three Metkayina boys and Ao’nung. Now you’re seated with the four siblings, Tsireya, and another friendly face that you’ve been introduced to as Rotxo.

“The way of water has no beginning and no end,” Tsireya says. “Our hearts beat in the womb of the world.”

Your heart beats fast now, like you’ve just run from one end of the forest to another. It beats erratically under Neteyam’s unrelenting gaze. He looks like he’s dissecting you, trying to pry into your mind and you hate that things have come to this.

You hate that one evening has shattered the careful friendship that you and Neteyam have built over the course of many tumultuous years. You want to find comfort in his presence, know with your soul that he’d tuck your hair behind your ear and tell you that things would be alright. But now you feel like you two are distant strangers.

“The sea is your home, before your birth and after your death.”

You want to argue that you know no home, that the wind seems to carry you where it may, but you bite your tongue and you zone out of her lecture.

You only tune back in when the hairs on the back of your neck stand at the arrival of a new body.

“Mother and father say that it’s time to prepare for the evening meal.”

After hearing the voice twice in the day, you recognize the timbre.

Ao’nung stands tall, chest broad and eyes bright.

They settle on you in an instant, and you feel indescribably smaller as Tsireya announces that she will continue during the morning’s eclipse.

Everyone begins to stand, brushing the residual sand from their skin as they begin to file away.

You’re startled to a stop when your name comes from Neteyam’s lips and a gentle hand latches onto your forearm.

You look down to see strong fingers lighter than your own holding onto you. Then your gaze flits to Neteyam who stands a few feet away, words dying on his tongue.

Ao’nung tugs lightly and you look up to meet softened eyes.

“Can I borrow you for a moment?” he asks. He notices the apprehensive look on your face as you peel away from him, then adds, “I’ll be quick.”

Neteyam opens his mouth to protest on your behalf, but you flash him a pensive look and he stops in his tracks, watching as you turn your slender back towards him and follow the lumbering Metkayina.

When the two of you are alone, you dig your toe into the sand, hands clasped behind your back as you wait for Ao’nung to break the silence and get on with it.

“I want to apologize,” he finally says, when you’re out of earshot of the village and the curious Sully’s who’d noted the entire exchange.

You look up at him, brow bone raised.

“For?”

“For being mean,” he says, “I was inappropriate.”

“Is this your sister talking?” you ask crudely, but he doesn’t flinch at the venom in your tone.

Instead, he smiles down at you.

“No,” he assures you. “One hundred percent me, promise.”

You look down at your feet, still fidgeting with the sand.

“I guess…” you trail off.

“You guess?” he prods.

“I guess we’re okay,” you say hesitantly.

Ao’nung hums.

“Good,” he concedes. “Great. I’m glad.”

You flash him a bored look through thick lashes and his lips twitch as he stares down at you with piercing eyes.

“I can be dumb,” he says, grin widening. “My family says I don’t know how to act around nice things.”

Your cheeks warm as you avoid his eyes, breaking away to catch up with Kiri and Tuk.

After dinner, in the quiet of the Sully’s marui, you lie in the hammock you claimed earlier in the day, hands folded underneath your head as you gaze at the stars.

“My dad came from a star,” Lo’ak had said to you one night, eliciting the smallest of smiles.

As you comb through each one, you burn to be up there. A digging desire to only know about shining bright and being wished so hard upon.

There are nights like these where everything feels heavy, where your shoulders sag underneath the pressure of being a great warrior. You wonder what life could be like had the RDA spared your village, had you not gone off into the forest to hunt, had you—

He’s a barely perceptible shadow under the glow of the moon and ocean, slinking down the woven path between pods.

Like a whisper of wind, you climb out of your hammock and over sleeping bodies.

As you slip out of the marui, you don’t notice the pair of sleepy eyes on your retreating figure.

Before he even knows what’s going on, you’re scurrying over the thick branches, following his path until he hits the intersection right before the Sully’s quarters.

You jump down and intersect Ao’nung, hand coming over his mouth before he can shout in shock. His eyes are wide as you stand on your tip toes, other hand coming to your lips to gesture for him to be quiet.

“What are you doing?” you hiss quietly.

His fingers come to your wrist, nudging your palm from his mouth to reveal a beaming smile.

“I was coming for you,” he admits.

“Why?” you press, shaking his hold away when you realize that he’d still been grasping your wrist.

“Have you ridden an ilu before?” he asks.

You shift uncomfortably.

“No,” you answer shortly.

“You wanna?” he offers.

“No.”

He frowns.

“Swimming?”

“Pass.”

“I have fruits,” he singsongs.

“Ao’nung,” you warn.

“Is it so wrong to want to spend time with you?” he asks, hands up in defense.

“Why would you want to?” you ask accusingly. “Your village sees us as demons and I’m included in that whether it applies to me or not. I’ll stay out of your way, just leave me alone.”

“I don’t think you’re a demon,” Ao’nung says gently. “If anything, I- I think you’re great.”

“You don’t know me,” you spit.

“I know enough,” Ao’nung says with finality. “I know that you are strong and your spirit is kind. Ewya has let me feel as such.”

Your expression is lethal, but Ao’nung doesn’t back down.

“One night,” he says quietly. “Spend one night with me.”

The following silence stretches eternally before something magnetic pulls you towards Ao’nung’s honeyed gaze. You chance a glance over your shoulder, met with stillness and the minute laps of the ocean on the shore.

When you meet his eyes again, you nod once, hesitantly, and he’s taking your hand to tug you into the glowy night.

Ao’nung returns you before the sun rises, a few early risers giving you two curious glances as he walks you to where you’d ambushed him the night before.

You wave to him hesitantly, sighing in relief when you you creep back into the marui and find everyone fast asleep, splayed over one another like a big heap.

You climb over limbs and snoring bodies, finally settling in your hammock to watch the beginnings of the eclipsing sun brighten the village.

You don’t notice the same bleary eyes watching you from where he’s laid on the floor, Lo’ak’s head weighing on his stomach and Tuk smushed onto his armpit.

They’re the same eyes that watch you all morning, as his family gets up one by one, stretching their lithe limbs and tidying up before being called for the day’s first meal.

Neteyam is watchful, stealing glances as you file behind his family from the pod to the clan circle, now buzzing with hungry villagers as the sun shines high in the sky.

But he doesn’t say a word, silent as you choose the seat farthest from him. Quiet as you blink your eyes sleepily, barely registering Tuk’s excited blabbering about all of the new things she can make with the shells and supplies here.

“Give it a rest,” Lo’ak grumbles from beside him.

He snaps out of his reverie, eyes narrowing in on his brother.

“What?”

“You’ve been watching ________ all morning,” Lo’ak chides. “She’s locked up tight, bro. No way you’re getting her.”

Neteyam’s blood curdles at the thought, wanting to tell his brother to shove it. But you’d shut him out the past few days, the sting of his rejection obviously driving a wedge between the two of you.

“Shut up,” he grumbles.

He hates that you’d gone from being inseparable to being strangers overnight. But what he hates even more is the way Ao’nung drops onto the log next to you and you don’t even flinch, just pass him a bored gaze that makes him beam.

He watches you closely, eyes glued to your every move.

Something ugly roils inside of him as Ao’nung offers you a braided bag and you hesitantly take a piece of dried meat from him, face morphing as you give him a nod of approval.

Ao’nung looks proud of of himself as he balances the bag next to him on the log and leans towards you almost imperceptibly. Neteyam expects you to put distance between the two of you, but you barely bat an eye, watching intently as Ao’nung talks animatedly.

Lo’ak scoffs beside him and Neteyam stomach turns.

Hours bleed into days, days bleed into weeks, and for once, you feel like things could be alright. The breathing gets easier, the learning comes faster, and something feels peaceful being near the ocean.

The only thing that hadn’t been amended was the gaping hole that separated you from Neteyam, but in the company of a certain Olo’eyktan’s only son, you don’t feel the burn as much.

You watch him now, as he treads water with Rotxo and the two Sully boys, walking them through the procedure of hunting under water and how to maximize their kills.

“…and the reefs underwater…”

He’s one and the same with the tides, mighty and commanding as his veined hands gesture confidently. One moment, he’s focused on his instruction intently, the next he’s glancing at you.

You feel hot in the warm waters as your cheeks flame under a genuine smile. Neteyam follows his line of sight, body tensing in the water when he sees the shy look on your face.

He’s not the only one who notices as Kiri feigns a gag and Tsireya pauses her spiel to giggle at the obvious exchange.

“Oh, ________,” she whispers giddily.

Your eyes swing to the group of girls surrounding you as Tuk lets out a gleeful laugh and pinches you under the water.

“Ouch!”

“________ has a crush,” Tuk singsongs obnoxiously.

You knuckle her forehead and give her a warning glare than only sends her into a frenzy, laughing and splashing as she seeks protection from Kiri.

“Stop that!” you whisper fiercely.

“Don’t tell me you’ve gone soft,” Kiri moans.

“No!” you say, a little too quickly. “No.”

No one in your circle looks convinced as Tsireya closes her lesson and leads the three of you to wade out of the waters.

“It’s okay, you know?” Kiri says once you’ve reached your belongings and sling your trusty satchel over your front.

You give her an inquisitive look and she throws her head back and laughs.

“I know you sneak out to meet with Ao’nung at night,” she admits quietly. “I love my stupid brother, but it’s okay to move on.”

You blanche, embarrassed at having been caught.

After the first night, when he’d taken you for a swim with his ilu and you’d gasped in both fear and delight as the creature cut through the waters to sail through the air, he had started to frequently come back for you in the wee hours after eclipse. It had turned from you clocking him as he approached the Sully’s pod, to you standing off the side of the path he usually crossed, waiting for him.

The first night you’d done that, his smile was so sweet, you felt something fluttering in your tummy.

Among one of those late night excursions, while you both were splayed on the beach after a particularly adventurous swim, Ao’nung had told you he wouldn’t mind showing you all the beautiful things Awa’atlu had to offer, you just had to say the words. And you had reluctantly agreed, heart locked away tight.

You hate to admit that he’s done well chiseling away every effort you’d made to remain snug behind your walls. He had coaxed you out with soft words, sweet fruits, meaningful talks. And you absolutely melted like putty in his hands.

“We are head and heart,” Kiri says gently. “Sometimes it’s okay to listen to your heart.”

You swallow under Kiri’s sympathetic gaze.

“You’ve been strong for a long time, ________,” she states simply. “Your feelings are not a weakness.”

You nod as she rejoins Tuk and Tsireya a few strides away.

A few moments later, a voice is warm in the shell of your sensitive ears.

“What adventure awaits after eclipse?” Ao’nung asks lightly.

You resist smiling up at him, but fail miserably when his webbed fingers come up to move hair from your face.

“I have seeds of a spartan fruit,” you say quietly. “If you know of anywhere to plant them.”

“I can make something work,” he assures you, thumb brushing your cheek, then pinching gently with a toothy smile. “Our usual place?”

You bow your head, cheeks hot.

“Of course.”

“Alright, little leaf,” he bids, that stupid nickname he’d called you one of the first nights, sticking. “See you then.”

He’s walking back in the direction of the other boys, cutting across the sand as they venture towards the heart of the clan’s village.

As you pick up the remainder of your items, you don’t realize a body has stayed behind.

“Little leaf?” It comes out as a scoff, mocking as your whirl on your heel and find Neteyam standing over you. “What’s your deal with him?”

You blink hard.

“What are you talking about?”

“You an Ao’nung,” Neteyam bites, temper short. “What’s going on between you two?”

Annoyance pinches the back of your brain as you look off into the roll of the shallow tides, then turn your attention back to the eldest Sully. For the first time in an infinite amount of moments, you don’t feel like falling into him.

“He’s my friend,” you decide to say, sucking in a deep breath in hopes of calming your racing nerves. “Is that alright with you?”

Neteyam’s glare doesn’t falter.

“Just your friend?” he accuses. “I know you meet with him after eclipse, don’t think you have anyone fooled. Why?”

“What do you mean why?” you counter, unable to keep the edge from your tone.

“Why are you sneaking around with someone you barely know after dark, ________?” he grills. “Don’t be dense.”

“Ao’nung is kind to me,” you argue. “He shows me about his life, about the villagers and the way of the water.”

“And what, I’m not kind to you?” Neteyam bristles. “Tsireya can’t show you all of those things?”

Your face scrunches in annoyance.

“You’re being unreasonable, Neteyam,” you scoff.

“I’m being unreasonable?” he asks in disbelief. “Ao’nung is just like the rest of the village, ________. You really thinking that in front of everyone else, he doesn’t shun us all the same?”

“No, Neteyam, I don’t,” you retort. “Because Ao’nung is nice. He goes to great lengths to make me feel welcome, like Awa’atlu is home.”

“So he puts on a show and you’re so willing to be with him, huh?” Neteyam seethes quietly. “We’re your home, ________. Ao’nung is earning brownie points with his parents having you hooked, but do you really think he sees you?”

You swallow, biting the inside of your cheek as you stare up at Neteyam in resignation.

“You can be so callous sometimes,” you whisper, turning to leave the conversation.

“I’m not done talking to you,” Neteyam sighs.

“Well, I am.”

You never make it back to the marui that night, still embarrassed that two of Sully’s had noticed that you were ditching your hammock as soon as the village turned in for the evenings. Instead, you wander around the beaches, collecting shells and little trinkets for morning handicrafts with Tuk.

After the island glows both from the luminescence of the habitat and the moon, you stand post, waiting for the familiar pad of Ao’nung’s feet over the sand. You watch the stars up above to distract you, fingers twitching as you recall your argument with Neteyam earlier in the day.

You know he was looking for chords to strike, but something akin to insecurity begins to root itself inside of you as the stars begin shifting further and further, indicating that a wide span of time has elapsed. The village is still, but your mind is racing as Ao’nung’s whereabouts remain a mystery.

Regardless you wait. You wait so long, you’d resorted to planting yourself in the sand, and after what felt like infinity, the morning eclipse begins. When the village starts to turn over for the day, curtains and drapery being pulled back to reveal slowly waking families, you finally stand, heart in your hands.

When you return to your pod, Neteyam is already up, posted on the edge of the walkway with his toes in the water.

He’s shooting up when he sees you.

“Where have you been?” he demands as you draw nearer.

His face softens when he sees the first tear arch over your sculpted cheekbone.

You quickly wipe it away.

“No where,” you grumble, pushing past him.

“________,” he urges.

You deflect his reaching hands.

“I’m serious, Neteyam,” you warn, the look in your golden eyes deadly. “Leave me alone.”

Despite not seeing Ao’nung the entirety of the day, you return to your post the next night, hoping the night prior had been a fluke. The seeds of the spartan fruit are held tight in your fist and you use them as a vessel to wish hard. But it’s futile when the stars that map the skies continue to inch and you continue to wait.

On the fourth night of Ao’nung’s absence, you decide to get to the bottom of things.

You weave through the maruis, into the village’s circle right before eclipse. You spot Tsireya first, then him. He isn’t hard to miss when you’ve grown to know the drape of his curling hair and the bass of his hearty laugh.

Rotxo, who sits opposite them, notices you first and his smile falters.

Ao’nung’s neck cranes and his face shutters as he locks eyes with you.

“________, hi,” he greets simply.

“Hi?” you parrot, the spartan seeds you were beginning to use as a safety blanket clutched tight in your fist. “That’s it?”

Ao’nung turns completely, waving off his sister and Rotxo as he stands to his full height.

“What are you—“

“I waited for you,” you hiccup, shocked at the emotion that hijacks every morsel of resolve and composure you’ve always kept a tight lid on. “I waited for you, but you never came.”

Ao’nung’s hands are on your shoulders, nudging you to a more private area, an alcove hidden among arched and gnarled tree roots.

“________, I don’t understand,” he says quietly. “You—“

“I waited for you so that we could plant these stupid seeds and—“

Your unfurled fist catches his attention and his eyes widen when he sees that you’ve gripped them so hard in your hands, your palms are bleeding.

He makes a move to grab you injured hand, but your fist tightens again.

“This is inappropriate,” Ao’nung says sharply, eyes pleading.

“What is?” you ask desperately.

“You and me,” he says, like it should make sense. “This isn’t right.”

Like a time warp, you’re brought back to the glowing forest before your departure. You see Neteyam’s disappointed expression, the twinge of disgust lacing his features at the thought of wanting you like you wanted him.

Your heart shatters.

Just when you thought you were getting over it all. Just when you thought that Ao’nung made you feel alive. Made you feel things you’d never felt before, he was extinguishing every sweet moment. If he was trying to cut ties before you could fall, it was too late. He was dousing the flames that had grown to engulf him and you don’t know how much more you can take.

“Why would you do this?” you whisper brokenly. “I wanted to be left alone. Why would you force yourself into my life if you don’t want to be in it in the first place? Why would you make me want you?”

Ao’nung’s expression turns sour.

“I want to be there for you, ________,” he says fiercely. “You shine so bright and you are so incredible, you don’t even know it, but I can’t do this.”

“Why?” you hoarse.

“You are promised to someone else,” he says vehemently. “This entire time, I have sought you out with the intention of making you mine, but your heart belongs to someone else.”

Your face crumples.

“What are you— I don’t—“

“Neteyam told me to stay away from you,” Ao’nung says. “That you two would solidify your union once it was safe to go back home.”

“No,” you interject. “That’s not—“

“Don’t be cruel,” he says quietly. “I don’t think I can take it.”

“No, Neteyam and I are nothing,” you spit. “We—“

The fury hits you full force as you pull away from Ao’nung and stalk away.

You don't you hear him rushing to catch up with you. It’s like you’re underwater, hearing muffled as you map the woven path to the Sully’s marui.

Everything is absolutely red as you clock him.

Neteyam is laughing with Lo’ak and Kiri when you approach.

The expression on your face is murderous when he looks up and he pales as he stands to meet your barreling figure. You’re shoving him away from you as soon as he steps in your immediate space.

“How could you?” you cry out.

Kiri and Lo’ak’s eyes are wide at your outburst, the warrior of few words teeming with anger and emotion as you square your shoulders. Kiri nudges Lo’ak’s shoulder and gestures towards their marui to give you two some privacy.

“________—“

“You told Ao’nung we were promised to each other?” you press, finger jabbing his chest heatedly.

His face contorts as his spine straightens.

“Yes, ________, I did,” he confirms, nearly smug.

“Why?” you cry out. “After everything, why would you—“

“You’re mine, ________,” he blurts, fists shaking as he closes in on you. “All mine, and I refuse to let anyone have you. Especially Ao’nung.”

The boy who stands before you is unrecognizable, so taken by anger and envy.

“You’re heartless,” you whimper.

“Me?” he asks incredulously, voice breaking as he comes up to grab you by your biceps. “You– You made me fall for you and suddenly you–“

“I liked you first,” you choke, eyes searching his wildly. “I liked you first and you told me that you were sorry. In that moment, I could see how you saw me. Pitiful, coarse, misplaced. Ao’nung doesn’t make me feel that way.”

“Ao’nung doesn’t—“

“For once in my life, I feel okay. I feel like I can finally breathe, and that upsets you? You’re jealous? All I’ve known is the forest from a distance, coinciding with clans that make me feel like an outsider! When it’s me and him, that’s all it is, just two souls existing together. This is the first time I can say such.” Your voice is hoarse, drawing wandering eyes.

Neteyam’s face softens.

His entire time growing up with you in the forest, he’d never seen you display as much of yourself as you had in this moment. He can feel it pouring from you, every feeling you’d kept locked tight in your heart. He sees it in your eyes, nearly feral as you tremble in his hold.

“You love him?” It comes out more like a statement, his chest heaving.

Love. A word that holds the weight of a thousand suns. Four letters that seal your fate.

Did you love Ao’nung?

No. You didn’t, but maybe…maybe you could learn to. You could learn to love him just how he’d learned you, how he meticulously dismantled every doubt you had in him.

“I could,” you whisper.

Neteyam’s grasp loosens and he looks wounded as he backs away from you, peering down at you like he doesn’t recognize the person you’ve become.

As the cloud dissipates, you become aware of the eyes watching the entire debacle.

You shrink, mortified that nearly the entire village knows of your feelings for their Olo’eyktan’s son.

You turn on your heel to flee, but a sturdy body stands a few feet away, leaned against one of the twisted trunks of a tree supporting the surrounding maruis.

You swallow.

“A-Ao’nung,” you splutter.

His smile is soft, knowing, as he pushes off the tree and comes to stand in front of you.

“You’re popular, little leaf.”

You buckle, head bowing in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Ao’nung,” you murmur. “I…”

His hand comes around your head and pushes your face into the smooth skin of his chest.

You soften.

“Why are you sorry?” he asks, hand caressing your loosening braids.

“This must be embarrassing,” you whisper.

He spins your bodies, tugging you back down along the path you marched to confront Neteyam.

“You could never embarrass me,” he assures you, guiding you towards the village circle. One of his hands turns yours over, inspecting the tiny wounds as you two hurry along. “Let’s get you fixed up, okay?”

You can barely swallow around the lump forming in your throat as he climbs up into an empty pod used for treating the wounded and helps you up.

“Sit,” he coaxes, striding to the ledges of supplies, meticulously organized by his own mother.

You obey, tears streaking your cheeks as you tuck one leg under the other. You don’t feel like the mighty warrior Jake and many of the Omatikaya have made you out to be all of these years.

You feel small, and you feel weak. All because of a boy.

“Hand, please,” he says gently, kneeling in front of you with an arm full of remedies.

You oblige, offering your shaky hand, palm up.

The blood has dried, revealing small little angry lacerations that sting when he pours a thin liquid to clean them. You hiss and the tears start again.

“Stop,” he murmurs, wiping away the rivulets that slip. “Stop crying.”

“I’m sorry,” you repeat, fist balling involuntarily when he slathers a viscous mixture on your palm that soothes the burns.

“Stop apologizing,” he says softly. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

He places a leaf over your palm and then wraps your hand in a soft cloth that sates the ache. When you’re all patched up, he brings your fingers to his lips, then holds them tightly in his lap.

“I need to hear it for myself,” he sighs.

“Hear what?” you croak.

“Every moment I spent with you since your arrival has been precious to me,” Ao’nung says. “I want you to say it to me.”

You’re in knots, swallowing hard as he blurs.

You take a gasping breath as you will yourself not to cry.

“I want you, Ao’nung. I see you,” you warble. “And I’m petrified to admit it because admitting it means I’m being vulnerable, but I want you to see me too.”

His lips curve, pulling you forward so that you have to catch yourself on your uninjured hand.

“You scared me for a little there,” he whispers, mouth a hairsbreadth from yours. “I don’t know what I would do if all that time we spent together meant nothing to you.”

You swallow for the thousandth time.

“Never,” you shudder.

His smile widens.

“You’re not gonna stop me, are you?” he asks, lips ghosting yours as his eyes search your own.

“No,” you murmur.

“Good,” he sighs.

He kisses you like you’re delicate, pulling you into him to taste every unspoken word you’ve held onto since the first night he came to you.

When he pulls away from you, forehead resting against yours, he’s so quiet when he whispers.

But you hear him all the same.

“I see you, little leaf.”

an — AHH second full length oneshot is done! if you've made it this far, i thank you again! i had so much fun writing this request and once more want to express gratitude the anon to shot me this idea! ALSO purposefully left out details of their little rendezvous' so that i could do some drabbles for them in the future! next fic is (finally) the lo'ak x reader i've been blabbing about.

#ao'nung #ao'nung x reader #ao'nung imagine #avatar the way of water #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar the movie #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam

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roseghoul26 · 4 months

Text

Part 2

Arthur Morgan x f!Reader

"'Do you love me?' You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

'Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.'"

Synopsis: A retelling of the mission "Blessed are the Peacemakers", where instead of Arthur getting kiddnapped, it's you.

Tags: fluff, friends to lovers, eventual smut, smut, torture, mentions of sexual assault, no actual SA, dutch is father figure, so is hosea, arthur morgan deserves everything, fem reader, afab!reader, she/her pronouns used for reader, not beta read

Author's Note: this was meant to be a short one shot lmao i got so carried away with this

part 1 ❉ part 2 ❉ part 3 ❉ part 4

For what felt like the millionth time over the past few days, Arthur glanced beside him, expecting to see you riding beside him, the sunlight illuminating your face in a way that took his breath away. And, for the millionth time, it was still only Charles, who had joined him on his search for you over the past days.

After you failed to show at the designated meeting spot after the negotiations, he had to practically be dragged to camp by the other men. “She’ll be fine,” Dutch had said. “You know how she gets sometimes. She’s probably out helping some stranger on the side of the road. She’ll be back before you know it.”

Deep down, he knew something was wrong, but he still allowed himself to be led back, keeping an eye out for you or your horse. After waiting in camp for an hour or two, he decided enough was enough, speeding out before anyone could stop him. He knew you could handle yourself, but something about the whole situation felt wrong. You were never gone for this long without letting him or someone else in camp know.

It only took a few minutes of fast riding before he returned to the meeting spot, climbing the hill to where you had perched. With a keen eye, he scanned over the area, nothing standing out to him except a small splatter of mysterious liquid a few feet away, barely visible in the dirt.

Stepping closer, his suspicion was correct, causing bile to creep up his throat.

It was blood. More specifically, your blood, something he never wanted to see.

Crouching down, he took in the surrounding area. A path cut through the dusty ground, like something was dragged through it, before stopping at a set of hoofprints, receding down the hill with another set in tow, like the other horse was being led.

All Arthur could hear was his heartbeat anxiously pounding as he remounted, taking off down the hill, following the barely visible tracks as best he could. He managed to follow about a mile, nearly reaching Valentine, before other hoofprints intertwined with the track he was following, making it impossible to continue following.

“Shit,” Arthur cursed, scrubbing his face with his hand as he figured out what to do. If you had been kidnapped, which was apparent, then someone had to have seen something in town. You’d have been slung over the rump of the horse, which he figured someone might remember if they saw.

It was about two hours later when he left town, having gotten a lead from some of the residents about someone carrying someone through town, heading southwest toward Strawberry. The sun had long since set, and as he rode back to Clemens Point, he was lost in his thoughts.

He had to finally admit to himself that the things he felt for you went beyond a normal friendship. Friends don’t wonder what it would be like to hold you in the night. Friends don’t wonder how your lips would feel, how your hands would feel, how your body would feel. Friends sure as hell don’t lie awake at night fantasizing about you, then be too embarrassed to meet your eye in the morning.

Your compassion towards him throughout the years was something he cherished, the way your face lit up when you saw him, or the way you held him when he confided in you about his troubles. Every moment with you filled something in his chest that he didn’t realize was empty.

He hasn’t felt something like this toward anyone since Mary, but this felt different. This felt genuine, natural, like it was always meant to happen, born from years of trust. He had felt it for some time, but fear of ruining something great stopped him from saying anything. If his relationship with you crashed and burned the same way it did with Mary, his heart wouldn’t be able to take it.

He vowed to himself that he would tell you everything once you were safely back home.

“Who goes there?” He heard Charles shout out, barely registering he was back at camp.

“Just me,” Arthur sighed, slowing down to a trot as Charles came up beside him.

“Find her?”

“She's been taken… O’Driscolls took her through Valentine, heading southwest.”

Having only heard Charles swear only a few times, it took him by surprise when he heard the man mutter a curse under his breath, escorting Arthur as he entered camp, still staying on his horse. A light pat on his leg caught him off guard. “Rest up. We’ll head out at sunrise.”

“I’m just grabbin’ a few thing. She ain’t… I ain’t got time to sleep…” he trailed off, fighting back a conveniently timed yawn. “I can handle this myself.”

“She’s my friend too, you know. Maybe not as close as you two, but I care about her. And don’t think you’d survive ambushing a camp of O’Driscolls by yourself,” Charles shook his head, turning and walking back to his guard post, keeping his eyes on Arthur. “I only got a half hour left on my shift. We’ll rest until sunrise and head out. Neither of us will be able to help her if we’re dead on our feet.”

After failing to move, he watched the hunter turn back around, his face calm despite his words. “Don’t make me pull you off that horse, Arthur.”

He couldn’t help rolling his eyes, dismounting before walking toward his tent, sitting down on his cot with his head in his hands, hat left on the nightstand next to him. “Hang on, princess,” he muttered, as if it was going to help anything, before trying his hardest to get any semblance of rest.

True to his word, Charles woke him at the crack of the rising sun, and he left a note for the others letting them know where he was going, just in case. That was roughly four days ago, nowhere close to finding you than before.

He just prayed he would get to you in time.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“Miss Grimshaw, I need help!” Dutch’s panicked voice jolted you to consciousness, your eyes squinting against the harsh sunlight, bringing your arm up to block against the intrusion, before realization settled in.

Dutch was talking.

You were home.

Instantly you were awake, bolting upright into a sitting position, scaring the hell out of said man, who you saw take a step back, before rushing to your side.

You could barely understand the words coming out of your mouth, your eyes finally clearing as you took in the leader of your group kneeled before you, relief etched across his face. “It’s Colm- Dutch, I-, he–” you were almost hyperventilating as your eyes darted around manically, your body and mind suddenly overwhelmed.

Two hands grabbed your face, focusing your attention on the man in front of you. “Breathe, my dear. Just. Breathe.”

Following his instructions, you took a deep breath in, and out, repeating the action until your heart rate slowed down a tick. Miss Grimshaw, at this time, was by your side now, asking you questions that you were too out of it to hear. “Dutch, it was Colm. I- It was a setup. He took me. But I got away.” You only noticed you were crying when Dutch wiped away the tears with a handkerchief, something almost fatherly in the action. “I got away.” You repeated, more to yourself than anything.

A rare, true smile graced Dutch as his hands moved from your face to your shoulders, being mindful of the obvious injury there. “Yeah, that you did. But you’re safe now.”

“He was gonna set the law on us, Dutch.”

“Of course he was.” Sighing, you felt Dutch’s grip on you let up as he stood. “But that’s not a problem for you to worry about right now. All you need to focus on is getting better, okay?”

Nodding, you went to try and stand, almost collapsing until you felt Miss Grimshaw on your right side sling your arm over her shoulders, allowing you to rest your weight on her. She led you to your cot, Dutch following behind with his arms out like you were a child learning to walk for the first time. Exhaustion made its presence known again, and you felt your head grow fuzzy, black spots dancing across your vision.

You were almost fully tucked into your cot before a new thought caused you to sit right back up, earning you a disapproving sigh from Miss Grimshaw. “Where’s Arthur?”

Dutch, who stood at the entrance of your tent, left, and you heard him shout to Javier. “Go track down Arthur. Tell him his girl’s home.”

Glancing over to Miss Grimshaw, you asked again. “Where’s Arthur?”

Cupping your hand in hers, she responded. “Him and Charles are out looking for you. Have been since you’ve been gone.”

“How long was I gone for?”

“About four days, dear. You gave us quite a fright.”

“And he’s… they’ve been out looking for me?”

She rolled her eyes, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Of course. People really care about you, you know. Arthur especially. But,” she pressed down on your good shoulder, making you lay down flat on the bed, “you need sleep. Javier’ll find him in no time. He’ll be here when you wake.”

Your hand in hers was the last thing you remember before sleep overcame you.

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

“Nothing here,” Charles shouted from a closeby building as Arthur investigated the small hut, long since abandoned, the rotting floorboards barely holding him as he searched.

Opening the final room and meeting only dust bunnies and brown rats, he holstered his gun, his increasing anxiety causing his heart to beat wildly. “Same here,” he shouted back, exiting the building with a huff, sitting down on the dilapidated staircase as Charles approached him.

He was getting desperate at this point. They had searched what felt like every abandoned campsite and building, no sign of you or O’Driscolls anywhere. Not allowing himself to go down a rabbit hole, he pulled out his map, spreading it across his lap so Charles could look as well. With his pencil, he crossed off their current location, another X added to the page.

Weariness was also starting to take a toll on him, not as alert as he was days prior, the same going for Charles, but neither of them would be able to stop until they’d found you. Muttering under his breath, he scanned the map for their next location, reaching for his revolver when he heard the sound of fast hoof beats approaching the two of them.

Glancing up, a familiar black and white horse whizzed past, skidding to a halt as the rider practically jumped off, running up to the startled duo.

Javier stood before them, hair in disarray, panting as heavily as his horse, who gladly took a break from a straight dash from camp. Arthur couldn’t read the man’s expression, and he stood up warily, the map falling somewhere in the dirt. There was only reason why Javier was here, a fact that Arthur and Charles seemed to understand at the same time, anxiously waiting for the man to speak.

“She’s home.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

A new hand held yours when you woke.

It was significantly larger than Miss Grimshaw’s, strong callouses adorning the fingers, yet despite that roughness it held your hand like it was the most precious thing in the world.

When it felt you begin to stir, it held on a little tighter, a sigh of relief coming from the owner. Groggily, you opened your eyes slightly, almost immediately wanting to close them as the sunlight streaming from the entrance of the tent nearly blinded you, and you tried rolling over, crying out in pain as you rolled on to your left shoulder, having completely forgotten about the wound there.

“Easy there, princess,” Arthur murmured, the low gravel of his voice music to your ears.

Moving slowly, you glanced over to your side, smiling gently at the rugged cowboy who held your hand. “Hello-” a coughing fit wracked your body, throat dry from dehydration. Within seconds Arthur was right at your side, using his free hand to prop you up, rubbing your back as you coughed.

After a few seconds the fit subsided. Groaning, you rubbed at your eyes, your hair falling around your face. Arthur’s hand moved from your back, and you nearly let out a noise of complaint until he presented you with a waterskin, which you gladly took and began to greedily gulp down.

The water, despite being a tad bit warm, felt amazing, some of it spilling from your mouth and onto your lap. As you drank, you heard him call out for Miss Grimshaw, loud enough to be heard, but not loud enough to startle you. Within seconds the tent flaps swished open, Miss Grimshaw standing with her hands on her hips as she looked you up and down, a small smile on her face. “Well, it’s about time you woke up.”

She pressed her hand against your face, feeling for any sort of fever. “How’re you feeling?”

Bringing down the water skin, which Arthur took away to stop you from making yourself sick from drinking too much. “I feel like I was hit by a train. Everything hurts.”

Removing her hand from your face, she quickly left the tent, returning moments later with a tonic in her hands, opening and offering it to you. “For the pain,” she simply said, gesturing for you to drink it.

It burned as it went down, the bitter concoction instigating another coughing fit, luckily shorter than the other. Arthur took the empty bottle from your hands, tossing it behind him somewhere in the tent as Miss Grimshaw sat in front of you on the cot, beginning to remove the bandage that now covered your left shoulder.

Glancing down, you noticed that someone had cleaned you, the grime from the O’Driscolls basement nowhere to be seen, replaced by a fresh nightgown and clear skin. Well, clear in the sense that there wasn’t a speck of dirt on you. Various cuts, bruises, and burns adorned your body, most of them having already scabbed and on the way to be completely healed. Only a few were bandaged up, the worst being the gunshot wound on your shoulder.

While you had taken in the state of your body, Miss Grimshaw had been able to fully remove the bandage from your shoulder, and you let out a wince as the air hit the wound. The wound, you saw, wasn’t infected, but it was irritated, glaring red as Miss Grimshaw applied a slave to it, tears pricking your eyes at the pain.

You felt Arthur begin to rub your hand soothingly, murmuring small praises as she redressed the injury. “You’re healing well. Won’t be too long until you're back on your feet,” Miss Grimshaw spoke, brushing her hands on her skirt as she stood. “Just make sure you’re getting lots of rest, drinking lots of water, and eating good food. That one right there will make sure you do,” she winked at Arthur, who looked away embarrassed. “I’ll let the others know you’re awake. Visitors, or no?” When you shook your head no, she nodded in understanding. Turning to leave, she paused right at the entrance, before glancing back over at you. “It’s good to see you awake, dear.”

Before you could get a chance to respond, she left, leaving you and Arthur alone, still holding each other's hands. You felt your hair, which still hung around your face, begin to move as Arthur tucked it behind your ear, smiling lightly as he finally was able to make eye contact with you. There was obvious relief in his eyes, but something vulnerable there as well. You noticed the dark circles beneath his eyes, and noticing the chair pulled up to the side of your bed, as well as some of his personal belongings sitting beside him, you were able to quickly piece together that Arthur had been at your side the entire time you slept.

An unfamiliar yet not unwelcome pang hit your heart as you took in the man beside you, the man who was unyieldingly devoted to you, and the man you were so helplessly in love with. In any other circumstance, you would have pushed those thoughts away, but now you let them wash over you, sweeping away all the ache in your bones. You felt yourself smiling brightly at the cowboy, the cuts on your face making their presence known as the skin moved, but you couldn’t care less. All that mattered right now was Arthur.

Glancing down at your entwined hands, you let out a content sigh, before bringing his knuckles up to your lips, giving them a quick kiss before letting it fall back to your lap. Your heart hammered fast in your chest as you opened your mouth, ready to spill your most closely guarded secret to the man beside you. “I’m-”

“I’m sorry,” Arthur said at the same time, his louder voice covering yours, the confession stuck between your lips as you sealed them back up, and you furrowed your brows, momentarily forgetting what you were about to do.

“I’m sorry.” Arthur went to stand up, his stoic mask back up, trying to disentangle your hand from his, but you held on as tight as you could, stopping him from pulling away completely. “I’ll… I’ll leave you be now. Said you didn’t want visitors.”

“You know damn well that doesn’t mean you, Arthur Morgan,” you nearly growled, your voice scratchy as you tried to pull him back down to his seat. When he didn’t budge, you sighed, tugging lightly at him. “Please stay,” you whispered, and you could see the war being fought in his head as he stood there, unmoving.

A minute passed before he relented, letting you drag him back down to his seat with what strength you had. He was looking at you, but he wasn’t making eye contact, instead taking in every injury on your body that you had obtained at the hands of the O’Driscolls, squeezing your hand tighter as his gaze settled on your shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” you heard him apologize for the third time, and you just shook your head at him.

“And I still don’t know what you’re apologizing for, mister. You weren’t the one to do this to me, right?”

“God, no,” he replied, visibly disgusted at the notion.

“Then you have nothing to be sorry for.”

Shaking his head, you saw him bring himself closer to you, the chair gliding through the pelt that lined the floor of your tent. “I knew it was a trap. If I hadn’t made you-”

You cut him off by pressing your finger to his lips, silencing him as his eyes widened in shock and disbelief. “We all knew it was a trap, Arthur. But the thought of having any sort of peace with the O’Driscolls made us turn a blind eye. And you didn’t make me do anything. I went of my own free will. And besides,” you removed your finger, failing to notice how his eyes had darkened slightly during the whole action. “If it wasn’t me who got taken, then it would’ve been you or the others. It was inevitable.”

“It shouldn’t’ve happened.”

You shrugged. “Maybe not. But it did. It’s done now. We gotta move on now.”

“Next time I’ll be doing overwatch.”

“Like hell you are,” you scoffed, some of the tension leaving the conversation. “I’m the better shot, anyway.”

Arthur raised his eyebrows, leaning back slightly in his chair away from you. You tried to not look disappointed. “Is that so?”

“Yup,” you nodded vehemently, smirking slightly. “Best shot in the camp, hands down.”

“Uh-huh. Wanna go prove that to me then?”

“I ain’t got nothing to prove to you, Arthur, and you know it,” you laughed.

“Nah, you’re right,” he conceded. “You’re incredible.”

The total honesty in his voice caught you off guard, and you felt a slight flush creep up your face, no doubt turning your cheeks dark. Glancing away, the two of you fell into an easy silence that only came with him, and he mindlessly stroked your hand.

A few moments had passed before you looked back up at him, a crease in his brow, deep in thought, barely even registering your movement as he hung his head low. Shaking his hand slightly, you were able to get him to look up at you, giving him an easy smile. “What’s on your mind, cowboy?”

Looking like a fish out of water with the way his mouth gaped, he rubbed the back of his neck, no longer looking you in the eye as he fumbled with the words he was trying to say. It was almost silly, seeing the deadly man before you, someone who could send a person running with only a glance, at a loss of words. “Why’re you nervous? It’s just me,” you reassured him.

Or at least you tried to reassure him, your words stressing him more than relaxing him. “How’d you…” be began, trailing off shortly thereafter.

“I’m a mind reader.”

“You ain’t a mind reader. If you was, then I wouldn’t have to sit here, stumbling over my words like an idiot trying to figure out how to tell you…” he trailed off again, sighing anxiously, his face almost beet red.

“You’re not an idiot,” you chided, moving to sit on the edge of the bed, your knees knocking against Arthur’s. You ignored the butterflies erupting in your stomach at the proximity, bringing your hand up to cup the side of his face to bring his gaze back to yours. You tried to move your hand away but he caught it, keeping it pressed against his cheek. “And, even if I could read your mind, I’d wanna hear it from your lips anyway.”

He pressed his forehead against yours, collecting his thoughts for a moment. “I’ve been… I’ve been real scared to tell you this, you know. Everytime I try, the words just don’t come out right, and I ain’t too keen on making a fool of myself in front of you. I just… I hope this don’t change things between us… I don’t think I’d be able to live without you by my side. And if you don’t feel the same… which I pray that you do… then we never have to talk about this again. We’ll just move on, like you said.”

He pressed a quick kiss to the inside of your wrist, his beard pleasantly tickling the sensitive skin. A little gasp left your lips, the cowboy chuckling in response. But he didn’t continue speaking, his own anxieties halting his words. You knew what he was going to say; it was on the tip of his tongue. He just needed a push.

“Do you love me?” You asked, voice barely louder than a whisper.

Arthur nodded, gazing at you like you hung the moon and the stars.

“Then say it. I promise you, nothing bad is gonna come from it.”

“How is that you make me feel so calm yet terrified?” Arthur sighed gently. “When you were taken… it made me realize how big a fool I really am for you. And I almost didn’t get to tell you… I was ready to tear down every O’Driscoll until you were back home. But you went and saved yourself, cause of course you did. I wasn’t kiddin’ when I said you was incredible. You’re back home now, so now I get to tell you I love you. I really, really do.”

He let out a shaky exhale, a visible weight being let off his shoulders. “I have for a while now… but I just kept pushing it away and denying it. After what happened the last time I bared my heart out for someone, I was scared of it happenin’ again. I knew you wouldn’t hurt me… but a part of me refused to let me feel this way. I’m… I’m not a good man. I’ve done bad things, I’ve hurt people. Maybe I don’t deserve you, but I’m selfish enough to want you anyway. If you want me too, then I will spend the rest of our time together proving that I am worthy enough to be by your side.”

“Oh, Arthur,” you felt tears beginning to well up after finally hearing the words you’ve been waiting for for some time. “You silly man. I love you, too.” Despite the tears, you were smiling brightly, a similar expression mirrored on Arthur. You felt giddy, laughter bubbling from your lips. “I love you so much, and there is nothing you could do that would change that. And you don’t have to prove anything to me. The man right here is all I need.”

Blue eyes looked down at your lips, the distance between the two of you was so close yet so far, lips merely inches from your own with your foreheads connected. You watched as Arthur wet his lips, looking back up into your eyes with a look of longing.

“May I kiss-'' your lips pressed against his before he could finish the question, silencing him the way you wish you could have earlier. The cowboy let out a surprised grunt, the momentum of your body pressing against his nearly sending him backwards, his hat sitting precariously on his head. It only took him a second to recover from the shock before his lips moved, plush but chapped yet perfect in every sense.

Using the hand still cupped to his face, you moved it behind, scratching your nails lightly up the back of his neck before tangling your fingers in the short hair, tugging slightly. A delicious whine left Arthur, mouth parting slightly against yours as the kiss deepened. You felt his hold on your hand leave, instead grabbing your hips and pulling you towards him so you were practically on his lap.

All you could think about was Arthur. He flooded every sense, every fiber of your being fully enraptured by the man. So enraptured, in fact, that you temporarily forgot the trauma that your body had just been subjected to, so when you tried to use your left arm to situate yourself better, a shock of pain overtook you, forcing you to break away from his lips with a pained groan.

Immediately, whatever love fueled haze had flooded the two of you dissipated, leaving a concerned Arthur holding you as pain tore through your body, before dissolving into an incessant ache. “Shit… sorry,” you were panting, out of breath for two incredibly different reasons.

“Nothing to apologize for. You alright?”

“Got a little eager,” you smiled a tad bit sheepishly. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a while.”

“So we’ve both been fools this entire time?” When you nodded, he laughed, partially in disbelief. “And only a little eager?” he jested, rubbing his scalp tenderly.

“Yeah… sorry.”

“And I said there was nothing to apologize for. Besides,” he brought his lips close to your ear, voice rumbling as he spoke. “I like it when it hurts a bit.” He sat up, pressing a kiss to your temple before doing so.

The implications were not lost on you, yet you still found yourself staring wide-eyed at him. Noticing your hesitation, he backpedaled slightly. “If that’s alright. I don’t wanna force ya… or make you uncomfortable…”

“I’d like that, very much. Just not now, though. I’m exhausted.”

“It’s alright. We don’t gotta to do anything until you’re ready.” With a gentle smile, he gave you a quick kiss, pulling away too quickly for your liking. When you pouted slightly, he chuckled and shook his head. “There’ll be plenty of time for that later. You, princess, need rest.” You sighed, and with Arthur’s help you situated yourself back on the cot, still sitting up as he fixed the pillows behind you.

“Will you lay with me?” You thought he was going to say no, but he instead started toeing off his boots, setting them beside the bed before sitting behind you. A firm arm wrapped around your front, pulling you down to lay atop of him, your head resting comfortably on his chest. He kissed the crown of your head, and you snuggled into the man. The smell of him, a mix of gunpowder, leather, and something woodsy, filled your nose, lulling you into a relaxed state.

“I love you,” you mumbled out, face partially buried into his shirt. Gentle fingers combed through your hair, a pleased sigh leaving you as your eyes fluttered close.

“I love you, too. Now, rest. You’ve got a long few weeks ahead of ya.”

─•~❉᯽❉~•─

The first day of your recovery was the worst. Not because of the aches in your body, but the fact that everyone in camp had decided to come see you sometime in the day. You were grateful, yes, but it was exhausting. As nice as it was, a part of you just wished all the attention on you would go away. One more sympathetic look and you were going to throttle someone.

Dutch came in first that morning (with your permission), two cups of coffee in his hands as he sauntered in. He looked a bit caught off guard when he saw Arthur sitting behind you, still partially asleep in your cot as you sat up in the bed. After the initial shock wore off, a large shit-eating grin took over his face.

Setting one of the cups on the nightstand, he roughly patted the cowboy on his shoulder, who practically yelped at the sudden aggressive contact. “Atta boy, Arthur!” his boisterous laugh shook the tent, and you couldn’t help but laugh at the expense of Arthur. “Took you long enough. Thought you’d never grow the balls to tell her.”

In a sudden change, his face took on a serious expression as he leaned down close to Arthur, talking quietly enough for only the other man to hear. Whatever he said must’ve scared Arthur, his face turning a few shades paler. But within moments laughter returned to the black haired man who now had his full attention on you, handing you a cup of coffee which you gratefully took. “It is good to see you up, dear. Nothing can keep you down can it?”

“Not so sure about nothing, but O’Driscolls sure as hell can’t.”

“No ma’am,” he chuckled, pulling up and sitting in the chair that Arthur was in last night. “And trust me when I say they’ll regret ever touching a single hair on you.”

You nodded, lightly sipping the hot beverage in your hands. “Just don’t do it without me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Standing up, he gestured to the drink on the nightstand. “Help yourself to that Arthur. It was mine, but I wasn’t expecting you to have… company this morning. Now, get better quickly. Can’t have my best shot out of commision for too long.” With that, Dutch left your tent, Arthur giving a sigh of relief when he did.

Glancing over at Arthur with an I told you so look, you found him still paler than normal, shifting uncomfortably behind you. Snuggling up into his arms seemed to snap him out of partially, but you still saw his eyes flicking across the room, like he was expecting danger to pop out from anywhere. “What’d Dutch say?” you asked, Arthur’s arms wrapping around you as your face buried into his shoulder.

“I… nothing important, trust me,” he muttered, trying to brush over the question. Not taking that as an answer, you tilted your head to the side so you could look up at him, an unimpressed look on your face. Sighing, you felt his lips press a kiss to your forehead before he responded. “Let’s just say you got some… uh… guardians around camp.”

“Aw. That’s sweet.”

“Not so sweet when you’re the one getting threatened with gelding tongs,” you heard him mutter, and Arthur’s panicked look made a whole lot more sense now. You couldn’t help the giggles that erupted from you.

“Did- did Dutch threaten you, Arthur?” you barely managed to get out. His answering sigh was all you needed for confirmation, and you felt another fit of laughter overtake you. Arthur wasn’t long to stay upset, feeling his chest rumble with a light laugh.

“He’s always kept me in line. As best he could, anyway. But that’s enough about me. How’re you feeling, princess?” He sat beside you on the edge of the bed, wrapping an arm around you gingerly. Pulling you down, you felt him pull you towards him, giving you a kiss atop your head.

“I’m feeling like I’m gonna be sick of that question soon.”

You swore you could hear him roll his eyes. “Just answer the question.”

With an exaggerated huff, you turned so you were facing, his arm and hand now in your lap. You intertwined your fingers with his. “I’m okay. Just really sore.”

“And…” Arthur tapped lightly on your forehead. “How ‘bout there?”

“Surprisingly alright. I… I don’t really remember too much, to be honest.”

“Well, that’s good. But, if something changes, or you need… ‘dunno… someone to talk to, let me know. I ain’t the best with words… but I can listen pretty well.”

“Thank you, Arthur.” With a smile, you pressed your lips against his cheek, the slight prickle from his beard tickling you. He didn’t let you move back too far, however. A light hand cupped the back of your head, keeping you steady, but not strong enough to keep you from moving if you wished.

“And you said you was the best shot in camp. You missed.” Arthur had an almost cheeky smile on his face.

Scoffing in fake indignation, you kissed him, a satisfied hum leaving the cowboy as your lips made contact. His one hand still made contact with your head, the other wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to him. Running your own through his soft hair, another satisfied noise left him, and you pulled back with a pleased smile. “There. Happy?”

“Very. Now c’mere…” he said with a playful growl, before peppering kisses across your face, neck, and shoulders, being mindful of your injuries. You found yourself giggling as he continued his attack, turning into a yelp when you felt him nip lightly at your jaw. Lightly swatting at his shoulder, he moved back, still holding you gently. “You make me so happy, don’t you ever think otherwise.” With a final brush of his lips against yours, you watched his eyes flick behind you where the entrance to your tent was. Turning around, you saw Hosea standing there, tonic in one hand, a book in the other.

Sitting back down at the edge of the bed, you gestured for the older man to come in, a soft look on his face as he sat in the chair in front of you. “So that’s why you weren’t at your tent, Arthur,” he commented, and the younger cowboy sheepishly looked away. “You’re looking better. At least, better than you did twelve hours ago. How’re you feeling?”

Fighting the urge to bash your head into the nearest hard surface, you gave him the same response you gave Arthur. With a nod, he handed you the tonic, the greenish bottle filled to the top with liquid. “For the pain. And,” he handed you the book, “For the boredom.”

It was a copy of A Cristmas Carol, a brand new one at that. You knew that Hosea was quite the reader, so it came as no surprise that he knew where the name of your horse came from. “I know it’s nowhere near Christmas time, but I hope it will bring you some comfort.”

“It will. I… Thank you, Hosea.”

“You’re very welcome, dear. Is there anything else you need?”

“I think… I think I’d like some food. Let me just…” with your feet planted on the ground, you tried to stand up, the idea of a fresh meal urging you to leave your bed. As soon as you were fully upright, however, the world began to spin. Two arms caught you before you made contact with the floor, Arthur having stood up when you did, and he eased you back down to the bed.

At this point, Hosea was on his feet too, his hands planted on his hips like a parent would when scolding their child. “You’re in no state to be moving. Me ‘n’ Arthur will get your food for you. Just stay here.” Patting your right shoulder affectionately, he beckoned Arthur with a nod, the two of them leaving your tent together after Arthur put his boots back on.

You calling out Arthur’s names stopped the cowboy in his tracks, a concerned look on his face as he turned to face you. “Please take some time for yourself. Change your clothes, take a bath, something like that.”

“You sayin’ I smell?”

“I’m sayin’ you smell like you haven’t been at camp for a few days. Now go.”

“Alright, princess,” Arthur laughed, a grin on his face as he left the tent.

For the first time since you’d been back, you were alone. The tent was eerily silent, the only noise your breathing and the rustling of sheets as you got back into bed, sitting up against the pillows. Grimacing, you downed the entire tonic bottle, the liquid bitter as ever. You set the empty glass on your nightstand, your throat already going numb from the ingredients.

Waiting for Hosea to return with food, you thought over the events of the last couple of days. Most of it was hazy, in your brain. The only things you remembered were flashes of pain and the voices of the O’Driscolls. Everything else was gone, just blank spaces in your memory. Rubbing your face with your hand, you winced slightly as you pressed down a little too hard at what you assumed was a bruise on your cheekbone. You realized you had yet to see your face, unaware of the damage done to it.

Sighing, you barely noticed that Hosea was back in the tent with you, a bowl of hot stew in his hands, the smell causing saliva to begin pooling in your mouth. Handing you the bowl, along with a fresh skin of water, the man returned to the chair next to you.

“Don’t get too lost in those thoughts of yours. It’ll be hard to get you back out.”

“It’s not like there’s many thoughts in there anyway. I hardly remember anything that happened. I can’t tell if that should be concerning or relieving.” You said through spoonfuls of food, the temperature of it burning your mouth.

“Did they do anything… untoward to you?” Hosea asked, hesitating slightly.

You shrugged. “If they did, I don’t remember. But I don’t think so, saying nothing hurts down there.”

The older gunslinger let out a small sigh, his body relaxing some in relief. “Well, we can take some assurance that they aren’t animals.” He fell silent, giving you a few moments to eat. “Don’t be too worried about your memories. It’s common for our minds to shut out events that happened to us. Whether you want them to come back, however, is up to debate. Some events aren’t worth remembering.”

He fell silent again, lost in thought as you took another bite of your food. You were getting full now, your stomach not used to having so much food in it. You sat the bowl, which still had about half its contents left, on your nightstand. At the clattering of the bowl, Hosea seemed to snap out of whatever headspace he was in, giving you a small smile as he took the bowl. “Thank you,” he said while standing up, and you gave him a confused look.

“Thank you for coming back to us. To the gang. Lord knows what would happen to us if we lost you. Don’t know what would happen to Arthur, either.” He laughed humorlessly while shaking his head. “We’re all proud of you. I’m proud of you. You’re tougher than most, that’s for sure.” With a final kind smile, he left, leaving you, and your tears, to your lonesome again. Sipping lightly from the waterskin he left you, a gentle warmth growing in your chest from Hosea’s words.

It seemed like the universe still didn’t want you to be alone, however, because before you could even collect yourself, a small body came barreling into your tent, a larger one following with an apologetic look on her face. “I’m so sorry,” Abigail began, trying to usher an eager Jack out of your space. “When he heard you was awake, he wanted to come see you, and I tried-”

“It’s all good, Abigail. I don’t mind the company.” You tried to brush away the remnants of your tears. Abigail didn’t see, or if she did, she didn’t make a comment about it. Either way, you were grateful.

An eager Jack stood beside your bed, a wide grin on his face. Stretching out his arms, he held in his fists a small bouquet of wildflowers, with various flower types that ranged from all sorts of different colors. Pressing a hand over your heart, you gratefully took the bouquet from Jack. “For me? Thank you, Jack. They’re beautiful. You wanna help me put them somewhere safe?”

When the boy nodded, you handed him the waterskin, and he held it like it was the most important thing in his life. Grabbing the empty tonic bottle from your nightstand, you held it in your lap. “Pour a small amount of water in, so I can get the old stuff out first.”

After doing what you asked, you swished the water around the bottle, clearing out any extra tonic residue that might be left over. Pouring it out somewhere behind your bed (avoiding the pelt that acted as your carpet), you gestured for him to refill the bottle again. This time, instead of dumping it back out, you placed the small bouquet in it, the opening of the bottle barely big enough to hold all the flowers. Carefully you put the bottle back on the nightstand, and when it didn’t tip over, you let out a celebratory clap.

“Look how pretty those are, Jack! You picked out the best flowers.”

“I hope they make you feel better, Auntie Morgan. Ma says you got hurt real bad.”

“I bet they will,” you replied, not even registering what he said until a few seconds later. “Auntie Morgan? Where’d that come from?”

Jack shrugged, and you saw Abigail give you yet another apologetic look. “Well, I saw Uncle Arthur leave your tent, and he never did that before. And Ma told me that when someone has a tent with someone, it means they are dating! And when you are dating, you have the same last name! So that means you are now Auntie Morgan!”

“Oh… I mean… well…” You’re sure your face was significantly darker than it was moments ago as you stumbled over your words.

“Jack!” Abigail reprimanded, a horrified look on her face at Jack’s comment. “I’m… I’m so sorry, I just… that’s the only way I knew how to explain it to Jack when he asked.”

“Well, you’re not entirely wrong. We are… I think.”

“You… you are? When you nodded, Abigail gasped excitedly. “Oh, well that’s wonderful! I’m happy for you!” She hugged you gently before taking a step back by her son. “It’s about time…” she teased, and you rolled your eyes.

“I told you she was Auntie Morgan, Ma!”

“Not quite yet, Jack. We’re not married. Only married people have each other’s last names,” you tried to explain.

“So are you gonna marry Uncle Arthur then?”

Thank goodness you hadn’t decided to take a drink of your water, or else it would've been spat out at his question. Your face felt flame hot at this point, and you nervously picked at your nails. “We’ve only just started dating, Jack. I… He hasn’t asked me that question yet.”

“Do you want to marry Uncle Arthur?”

“That’s enough!” Abigail practically jumped to cover Jack’s mouth. You laughed at Jack’s lack of filter despite your growing flustered state. With her hands on his shoulders, she led Jack outside, returning by her lonesome a short while later. Sighing, she sat on the side of your bed. “Sorry ‘bout that, again.”

With a wave, you dismissed her concerns. “It made me laugh.” You could tell she was itching to say something, but couldn’t tell if it was rude or not. “Me and Arthur spoke last night. We… confessed some things to each other, and, well, you heard what I said. There’s… something between us.”

“I really am happy for you,” she smiled at you, taking your hand in hers. “You two are good for each other. Being close with someone, in this life, it ain’t easy. But that don’t mean it ain’t worth it. Treasure the moments you have together, and take time for you both. Be there for each other, but don’t be fully dependent on the other. Communicate, even if it’s hard. Lord knows I know that all too well.” An almost regretful look crossed her features, a tiny frown pulling at her lips, as if reminiscing over past mistakes between her and John.

“And, if he breaks your heart, which I pray he never does, just know that there is a camp full of nasty outlaws that would do anything for you. Myself included,” she added, a playful look replacing the old one.

“Thank you, Abigail.”

With a final squeeze of your hand, Abigail stood up, brushing out the creases in her skirt. “I’ll try my best to stop Jack from saying too much ‘bout the two of you. But, be ready for anything.” As she exited the tent, you could hear Jack loudly talking to someone about the conversation he just had with you. Groaning, you flopped your head back, praying that someone wasn’t Arthur.

The rest of that first day was filled with rest broken up by people coming to visit you. Charles had come in about twenty minutes after Abigail, and the two of you had chatted for a good while, catching up on his and Arthur’s adventure to find you. He had also gifted you a small whittled version of your horse, the wood stained to match his black and white coat. You had accepted the gift with gratitude, setting it by your flowers after staring at it in your hands for a long while.

Arthur had come back during Charle’s visit, freshly bathed and with new clothes on. His hair was still slightly damp as he stood awkwardly at the entrance, not wanting to barge in on your conversation. Gesturing him further inside, you then patted the bed behind you where he was before, moving further up so there was more space for him.

As he came over, he patted Charles on his shoulder, joining into the conversation with a few additions to the story as he slid into the bed behind you. You didn’t fully lay against him, not wanting to get too affectionate in front of your friend and making him uncomfortable. Charles only stayed a few minutes after that, giving you a light hug before leaving the two of you.

Reclining fully against Arthur’s chest, you let out a pleased sigh as you felt him embrace you. “Y’know, I heard some crazy things from Jack not too long ago.” You felt him laugh as your head rolled back defeatedly, eyes closed.

“He’s definitely Marston’s kid, that’s for sure. Nosy little…” you grumbled, and you felt him laugh again.

“He’s not the only one. Mary-Beth and the girls nearly jumped me after they saw me leave. Barely made it down to the river in one piece.”

“How’d you survive?”

“John got ‘em off my back. Then, once the other’s were out of earshot, began hounding me with his own questions. I swear, the whole camp is a bunch of high society folks who got nothing to do but gossip all day.”

“Can’t fault them. It’s not everyday that the gang has a new couple in it.” You hadn’t meant for the term couple to slip out. You knew there was something between the two of you, but you feared putting a label on it. Slowly opening your eyes, you tried to gauge Arthur’s facial expression, but to no avail. You remembered Abigail’s words about communication, so you took the leap of faith. “We… Are we a couple? Are we… dating?” It felt juvenile to use the word dating, but you knew no other way to ask.

“Yes?” Arthur replied almost immediately, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Oh. You felt a little silly, and you closed your eyes again, avoiding Arthur’s confused glance.

“Unless…” you could hear the panic and disappointment in his voice, and you immediately reopened your eyes, lifting out of his embrace to turn and face him fully.

“No, we are! It’s just, you… we never said that we were, like, official, and I didn’t want to put a label on it and make you uncomfortable and I really want to be yours but I don’t want to push you into somethin’ if you’re not ready for it and… what?” Your rambling was cut short by the fond yet amused look on Arthur’s face.

“I’m more than ready for this. Trust me. I want this. I want you.”

“Okay,” you nodded, kissing him quickly, before laying back down on Arthur, this time facing his chest, your face burrowed in the crook of his neck. You felt his hand rub up and down your back, pressing kisses on the top of your head as you settled in. You were starting to feel sleepy, a mix of the food, tonic, and Arthur lulling you back to unconsciousness.

“You smell good,” you mumbled, voiced half muffled by his neck.

“Do I meet your standards, princess?”

“Y’always do, pretty boy.”

“Pretty boy?” Arthur scoffed lightly.

“Very pretty. Prettiest boy I’ve ever met.”

You felt him shake his head, clearly not believing you, but you could feel his heart rate began to pick up. You didn’t have to look up to know he was blushing.

“Go ahead and rest. You want me to send away visitors?”

“Only for an hour. Just gonna close my eyes for a bit. Promise me you’ll only let me sleep for a bit.

“I promise,” was the last thing Arthur said to you before you fell asleep.

By the end of the day, your nightstand and the floor around it was filled with various trinkets and goods from the other gang members; Lenny had brought you your favorite candy; Javier had gotten you a new necklace that he totally hadn’t stolen; Mary-Beth bought you a new shirt, your previous destroyed beyond repair. It was at that point you remembered that your old boots and hat were still at the O’Driscoll’s camp.

To your surprise, even Micah had stopped in, albeit briefly, giving you a quick apology before leaving. You and Arthur had shared a good laugh at that after he was long gone. As sick as you were at hearing the question “how are you doing”, it was nice to be cared for like this.

Throughout the day, Arthur stayed by your side, leaving for only a few moments to relieve himself, grab something for you, or to confer with the others in camp. He would call on one of the girls in camp to help you when needed to relieve yourself. Dutch, bless him, didn’t call on Arthur once that day, giving both of you much needed rest. When you weren’t getting visitors or resting, you and Arthur chatted or cuddled in silence.

Darkness had long since flooded your tent, the lantern hanging unlit in the center of your tent. Laying on your right side, Arthur lay behind you, arm strung across your waist, keeping you pulled close to him. As you closed your eyes, the warmth of the man behind you better than any blanket on the market, you realized there was no way you were ever going to be able to sleep alone again.

You found yourself fine with that fact.

#arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan rdr2 #arthur morgan #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2

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phntmeii · 11 months

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♡ Dating Aemond Targaryen Headcanons:

❝ I would not blind you. I plan to make a gift of it to my mother.❝

[SFW + No Gendered Terms]

A/N: Honestly not shocked Aemond was voted high for headcanons lmao. I will say he was a bit tougher simply because he doesn't have many lines/screentime to base him on so it might be a bit OOC!!

⚔︎ Aemond's interest is something that would keep hidden to himself for a good while. He isn't one to want to show emotions especially ones that he could consider a weakness.

⚔︎ His interest in the beginning can be only seen through his silent watchful gaze across the hall toward you. It's piercing and intense that Aemond might not realize that it seems more threatening than affectionate honestly.

⚔︎ If you happened to find out, it's because one of his siblings found out first. Both of them CANNOT keep a secret for their LIFE and would embarrass him with (semi)good intentions.

⚔︎ If it's Aegon that found out, he found out because he recognizes such a stare from himself. He would immediately (probably drunkenly) approach you and try to wingman by asking you a slew of questions to get to know you then drop Aemond's name around the conversation.

⚔︎ "An interest in books? Eh. Not for me personally, my lady, but I can assure you that my brother cannot pull his head out of one."

⚔︎ If it's Helaena that found out, it's because Aemond told her in the hopes for advice and explicitly told her to keep it a secret. Cue her telling you the moment she next saw you casually.

⚔︎ "Aemond? Oh! He told me of how he dreams of you through the night, you know!”

⚔︎ ^ Sweet girl thought this wasn’t a big deal because she dreams vividly about people all the time.

⚔︎ Once the secret's out, he has no choice but to approach you. He keeps his head high and looks to you with the same intent stare. His voice is low as he confirms what has been said about him.

⚔︎ At the beginning, he is hesitant to initiate any affection. Due to his previous experiences with women at the hands of Aegon, he finds it difficult and becomes reclusive.

⚔︎ He'll mainly take you for walks and read beside you but keep quiet. He more so waits for you to initiate conversation and watches you.

⚔︎ He may seem annoyed or irritated but that's just his resting face. Everything you say is ingrained into his mind and whatever you express interest or like of is immediately logged for future reference.

⚔︎ Once physical contact is more accepted, he tries it more in a gentleman-like manner. Kissing the back of your hand each time you meet, offering his arm when you two walk together and more.

⚔︎ His favorite is admiring your face while his hand holds your cheek. It's almost as though he's trying to memorize each part like it was artwork.

⚔︎ He tries his best to impress you when possible. Aemond wants to prove himself to you and prove he's worthy of your affections.

⚔︎ Whether this be with his knowledge of history and philosophy, sparring, or some other skill of his, he wants to prove he is worth any of your attention.

⚔︎ Absolutely caters to you especially in public settings or events. Too overwhelmed? He’s guiding you out of the room to calm down. Someone is getting too pushy? He’s ready to defend you in a moment’s notice. Feeling ignored? His attention fully turns to you to entertain your conversations.

⚔︎ Aemond is also one to fully understand your boundaries to keep you comfortable. He would never want to push too far considering his own past regarding being pushed like that. Any requests you make of him will be fully honored by him.

⚔︎ Aemond does have quite the soft spot for you and strictly for you. Once comfortable with you, he can’t help but melt when you’re excited about something. He’d be studying his book for the day and once you come in with a newly-designed outfit, twirling around happily to show it off to him, he slowly breaks out into a warm smile and sets his book aside to give you his full loving gaze.

⚔︎ Aemond’s Main Love Languages to give are: Quality Time and Words of Affirmation.

⚔︎ Aemond enjoys having your presence around him, finding it to be calming. At dinners, he sits right beside you and defaults to looking over at you to feel comfortable. Knowing you’re by his side soothes him.

⚔︎ He’ll also try and teach you any little thing about his personal interests just because he likes to share with you. This is even better if you also know about the subject matter! He gets very excited at the prospect of someone as knowledgeable as he is!

⚔︎ Aemond likes to give you daily reminders of how much he simply adores you. In fact, each time you two are getting ready in the morning, Aemond walks up behind you, wrapping his arms around you and telling you how stunning you look.

⚔︎ Aemond will make it his internal mission to ensure you never feel unloved or unappreciative. And if you have any insecurities? He’s spending every moment reminding you that you’re precious in every sense of the word.

⚔︎ “Darling, surely you are not here sulking when you are the perfect definition of beauty itself? I feel as though *I* am the one unworthy of being in your presence with such perfection.”

⚔︎ Aemond’s Favorite Love Languages to receive are: Physical Touch and Words of Affirmation.

⚔︎ Both of these play a part in soothing his insecurities imo.

⚔︎ Obviously, while he feels losing his eye was worth the prize he claimed, it nevertheless makes him feel odd because he knows people are staring at him for it.

⚔︎ He wouldn’t wish to scare you with what his eye looks like which is why he covers it. But showing his scarred eye love and appreciation with gentle touches and kisses as well as endless praise, he’s looking up at you with sparkling puppy dog eyes.

⚔︎ “You truly believe… I am worthy of such affections? …Are you sure?”

⚔︎ While Aemond can maintain his stoicism in public settings, in private, he can’t help but want your gentle touch and complimentary words. It becomes a craving of whenever you’re in his presence.

⚔︎ This craving can cause him to unintentionally grow possessive and overprotective. He sees himself as your personal protector and he would rather die than fail to protect you in any manner.

⚔︎ Aemond may shoot threatening glares or bluntly insult other people if he feels they grow too “familiar” with you. Aegon would tease him for looming over you all the time which Aemond will insist is for your protection. (You were just walking to the privy.)

⤷ divider credits: @cafekitsune

#asoiaf #asoiaf headcanons #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #hotd x reader #aemond the kinslayer #prince aemond #aemond targaryen #asoiaf x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x you #aemond headcanons #aemond targaryen headcanons #hotd headcanons

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sol-lar-bink · 4 months

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Queen Veronica the Fifth (V)! The Late Queen of Venostar, and Toxecia's mother. Vivi for short because 'Veronica V'.

I've been meaning to put her ref together for a while. Have a bonus Riki Fuhrmann style of her too (: Plus child Toxecia.

vvv Some info under the cut! vvv

A rather strict Queen, but she cared for her people and her family, and was overall cherished in the kingdom. She's the Fifth Veronica in a massive family tree of royal spiders. She's a mix of bossy and nice, a caring person hidden behind a status to uphold. She has a rather deep, sultry voice.

She took her role very seriously as Queen, the result of generations of Queens passing their hopes and dreams onto their children. Why is that, you might ask? It's because their species have very short lifespans... barely able to live longer than 40 years. A bad gene or something, that kinda just... kills them after a certain amount of time. Venostar scientists have been studying how to rid this gene for almost 100 years to allow a Queen to live a fully prosperous life.

Her husband (To be named + designed) was the perfect balance she needed in her life. Fun, full of energy, silly and hopelessly romantic. He's basically like Asgore without the murdering kids part lmao. With him, Veronica almost seems like a different person.

Together they have Toxecia, their darling little daughter. Sadly Veronica and Tox don't get along very well for the majority of their life, and Tox finds more comfort with her father. He taught her how to use a sword during their time together.

As a child, Tox develops an over-productive poison gland. It first occurs during a speech Veronica is giving to the kingdom. That day would send the family into a depressive spiral.

Most of the kingdom views Toxecia as a freak, a cursed child. She can't leave the castle without leaving a trail of paralyzing poison around the town. Eventually Veronica prevents her from leaving the castle unattended. Tox would only go into town with her father from there on out... until the day that he passes away, when Tox was a young teen.

Veronica and Tox both suffer from this loss. Veronica missing that positive, lighthearted personality that helped her for so long, and Tox losing a lot of confidence. Tox inherits her dads Sword (The one Veronica is holding in the 2nd pic)

Veronica would try to find a new love, but struggled to do so. She became more flirty in this time, and also more depressed. She had gotten close to another female spider at least, but that was a secret kept to them alone 🤫

Sadly, as her time was coming, she prepared Toxecia to inherit the throne, and Veronica would pass away when Tox was barely 18.

She remains buried beside her husband. Tox visits their grave weekly, even if they didn't get along, she misses them both... the royal advisor takes her parents place now.

Alone and young, Toxecia goes on to rule a kingdom that rejects her.

#myart #queen veronica #vivi #veronica #kirby #toxecia #kirby oc #kirbyocs #floralian #venostar #spider

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whiskey-bumblebee · 10 months

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Hii<33 I'm the one who asked for requests lmao

So... I just had this thought and I can't shake it off </3

dbf!Hotch is having a bad time. Haley had been complaining about his schedule at work for a while, their love life wasn't going well, and Hotch starts to realize that he could feel something for his best friend's daughter. 👀

So when Haley tells him that she wants a divorce, (and to consider themselves divorced immediately, they just have to sign the paperwork) he doesn't have a place to live, and when his sweet, lovely, and caring best friend hears him, he suggests that he might move in with them for a while 👀 (Reader is happy that he's coming to live with them, even if she doesn't yet know why)

I really don't want to make this long (and I'm sorry ughh) but what about Hotch having a nightmare about losing Reader, but she somehow notices that he's not feeling well, and they sleep together?

You know, some flirt around the house and some fluffy and the end 🥹

Feel free to ignore this, I know it's a bit meh LMAO

would it be a sin?

Pairing: dbf!Aaron Hotchner/Reader

Accessibility/Diversity notes: Gender neutral reader (let me know if you want me to change the pronouns, nonnie!), reader's dad is a minor character.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: dbf!hotch (reader is an adult), brief mentions of Jack and Haley, allusions to masturbation.

A/N: Thanks for your request! If you like this, feel free to send another 💃Postscript designed by @saradika (thank you!!) Also I listened to 'Can't Help Falling in Love' while writing this (specifically Haley Reinhart's version), if anyone wants to listen to that while they read :)

Tagging: @ssamorganhotchner @hotchsdoormat

It's bad timing. All of it is bad timing.

Fine, it could have been worse. The case was much like all the others, not one of the ones that wrenched Hotch's heart out of his chest and tore it into little pieces. Although maybe it would have been better if it had been one of those, seeing as the outcome of the day was the same.

"Get out. Me and Jack can't take this anymore."

"Haley, please, let's just talk about this. I'm not going to try and change your mind, but we need to talk about the details-"

"No, Aaron, get out. Just get out. And don't come back."

That gets Aaron's attention. Haley had kicked him out before, but never with the stipulation not to return. His wide brown eyes settle on her, assessing her.

"Haley... This is my house."

"God, you love throwing that back at me, don't you? If it's your house, why are you hardly ever in it? It's your house, but it's Jack's home. He didn't even recognize you when you came home."

"He was watching TV and called me by one of the characters' names. It's developmentally appropriate-"

"I'm filing for divorce, Aaron."

"Daddy?"

Jack walks into the room, clutching his teddy to his chest. He's in his blue astronaut pajamas.

"Can you read me a story before you go again?"

"I'm not going anywhere, buddy."

Jack's face lights up. "You mean... even two stories?"

Aaron grins. "Yeah. Even two."

Haley glares at him. "Actually, Jackers, daddy is leaving. He's gotta go."

Jack looks between his parents, clearly confused by their conflicting words.

"But he said-" Jack starts.

"Go to bed, Jack." Haley rubs her forehead.

"Haley, it's not even seven yet, let me-" Aaron takes a step towards Haley. She takes a step back and looks over at Jack.

"Bed, Jack. Now."

"But daddy's home."

Aaron's heart twists in his chest. He's always felt like the luckiest man alive to be the person that this sweet kid calls that, and the disappointment on Jack's features is sharper than any knife.

Haley shoots Aaron a look that says 'this is all your fault', and Aaron's stomach drops. Maybe he should have slept on the couch in his office. How could he expect Jack to handle this? The constant coming and going, the late nights, the missed soccer games...

"Okay. Alright buddy, I'll see you soon."

Jack's face crumples. "No story?"

Haley scoops Jack into her arms and starts walking towards his bedroom. She glances back over her shoulder and mouths 'out'.

And that's how Aaron finds himself back in his car much earlier than he'd expected to be. He scrolls through his contacts three times before he finds someone he feels okay about calling at dinnertime on a weeknight.

"Hey, Aaron. What's up?"

"God, I don't know where to start. Uh, so it looks like I might need a place to stay tonight. I'd book a hotel but with the concert tonight-"

"Fuck, man. Haley again? It's no trouble. I'm actually out of town for a few days, there's a conference in Dallas, you can stay in my bedroom."

"I'll sleep on the couch-"

"No, my kid's visiting this week, I think they'd prefer if you stay in another room."

"Oh, of course."

You, Aaron thinks. Lovely, intelligent, kind. Of course you're visiting your dad. Of course your dad forgot to block out the time to see you.

"Alright, you know where the spare key is. Let yourself in. Stay as long as you need, I'll be back Friday morning though. Hopefully Haley's cooled off by then."

Three days alone with you. Aaron feels guilty for intruding into your space like this, but he's just about out of options. There's a feeling low in his belly, hard to ignore and harder still to admit, but he pushes it down as far as he can.

He drums his fingers on the steering wheel and watches the streets pass. Soon enough, there's your house. He rings the doorbell as a courtesy, but eyes the potted plant that he knows has a hollow base.

"Oh! Mr. Hotchner."

"Hi, uh, I just called your dad-"

"He called me too. Come in," Your smile is inviting, if the way you swung the door wide open wasn't enough.

You turn on the kettle and take out two mugs, then tap the instant coffee and the box full of teabags in turn. Aaron nods towards the tea. You gesture for him to take a seat. He calls out from the living room.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything. I know it's short notice."

"No, no. I only cancelled my birthday party."

Aaron winces. "Oh my god, please, I'll hide out in your dad's room."

You just smile and laugh easily. "I'm just kidding. I thought you knew my birthday wasn't for another few months."

Now that Aaron thinks about it, he did know that. Your birthday was closer to his than this time of year.

You bring out the two cups of tea, setting out a little plate of cookies.

"Have you eaten anything? You look like you're wasting away."

"Thanks," Aaron huffs a laugh. "A week of takeaways will do that to a person."

You look Aaron over. "Hmm. Strong Southern boy like you... How about some green bean casserole? It's just leftovers, but..."

The humility in your eyes, matched with your robust generosity, your effortless thoughtfulness, makes Aaron swoon.

"I can even sweeten the deal with some mashed potato."

He wonders how long it's been since you saw him last. Maybe a year? It's not often you're in town. And this is how you greet him.

"If it's not too much trouble."

You shrug.

"Be trouble. It sounds like you've had a rough day."

Aaron sighs. So your dad told you.

"Jack looked so sad. Haley is, well. I understand that I'm not enough for her, but my son... I should be there for him. He needs a father."

"You are there for him," You cock your head.

"Not enough."

"If Haley isn't capable of parenting him on her own, she shouldn't have settled down with you."

Your tone is cool, but you're not saying it to be cruel. Hotch knows you're right. Haley knew what she was getting into.

"Anyway. You probably don't want to talk about it."

Aaron nods. "Your life is probably much more interesting than mine."

You shrug. "Trying to find the right combination of work and play. Much the same as yours."

Your lives couldn't be more different, but Aaron sees what you mean. You understand.

You finish the last of your tea with one large gulp and head for the kitchen to heat up some dinner for Aaron.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Aaron can't hold back. His heart is full from your conversation, and the food you'd given him sits warmly in his belly. He knows this room shares a wall with the guest bedroom, where you're sleeping, so he bites the fist of his right hand while his left hand is... occupied.

A grunt slips from his lips, and he can't help it, it sounds like the first syllable of your name. He scrunches his eyes shut, ceasing his movements. He waits for you to bang on the wall, or to knock on his door, but nothing comes.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Three nights pass that way.

You used earplugs on the first night, but your curiosity and desire dissolve your ethics. He's breathy, a practiced quiet from nights in hotel rooms beside his colleagues. They could almost be the breaths of sleep, but they come slightly too quick, slightly too sharp.

[Aaron wonders why you haven't said anything. He's not exactly trying to be loud, but...]

The thought of your mouth on him makes you feel electric. You bite your lip, willing your mind to think of anything else. This is completely inappropriate. You'd hate to make him uncomfortable. It feels like a violation of privacy.

Later that night, Aaron bursts into your room, trembling. He's been sleeping in a pair of sweatpants, shirtless.

You blink slowly, willing the heavy sleep from your limbs.

"Aaron?"

He takes a seat on the side of your bed.

"I'm sorry, I know it's the middle of the night-"

You shake your head. "Is everything okay?"

He rests his hand over your own.

You lift the covers, the same way you've always done for friends, close family. You pat the bed beside you and he slips in. You sit hip to hip with your backs pressed against the wall behind you. To stay warm, you keep the covers pulled up to your chest.

"Haley's going to leave me."

"It's a hard situation-"

Aaron shakes his head, cutting you off.

"Haley's going to leave me, and instead of dreaming about her, I was dreaming about you."

He can't look you in the eyes, instead staring at the foot of the bed.

"What did you dream about?"

"Psychologically, it would be sensible to dream about losing her. But we were on this ship, and there was all of this swell, and a wave came, and I couldn't save you. You were just swept right off the deck and I couldn't save you."

"Hey," You coo. "You're okay. I'm okay." You wrap your arms around him. "I'm right here."

"You're important to me," He breathes. "I didn't realize it until now, but-"

He turns to face you, and you realize too late that your faces are very, very close together. He glances at your lips, then back up at your eyes.

"Aaron," You breathe.

"Kiss me?" His voice is soft from sleep, but there's a plea in his eyes.

You shake your head. "I don't want to take advantage of you."

He smiles. "Take advantage of me? When I came into your bedroom in the middle of the night?"

"Okay, okay. And you're older, and more experienced, and whatever. But you're tired. I can see it in you. And you just had a nightmare."

You run your index finger over the creases in his brow.

"What does it mean, that the dream was about you?"

A more conscious Aaron would have known the answer, but he's exhausted, sleep-deprived. Without his typical routine, his kitchen, his suits lined up by colour. He's missing his armour.

"Think about it in the morning."

"Can I stay?"

You run your fingers through his short hair. You'd daydreamed of this moment for years. All of your logic is telling you that it's not a good time, he's not in his right mind, he has a room he can easily go back to, and he's still married. The golden band is still on his finger. He sees you seeing it.

He slips it off, letting it clatter on your bedside table.

"Don't let her make the decision."

"So, stay."

Aaron gestures for you to lie down, and you do. He lies down on his back and you move to rest your head on his chest. You drape one of your legs over his own.

"I'm not going to be a rebound."

"I wouldn't let you. You wouldn't let yourself."

You nod.

"Try to get some sleep. God knows you need it."

Aaron nods.

You count the glow in the dark stars that glow on the ceiling. You count again, and again, waiting to wake up. The sun rises before you do.

When your father walks into his bedroom the next morning and finds it empty, the sheets rumpled, he's confused. Aaron isn't the type to leave a bed unmade.

He pushes the door to the guest bedroom open slowly, just enough to see inside. You're in bed, which he expected. What he didn't expect was seeing his best friend beside you. You're both still asleep, curled around each other like you've known each other all your lives. Your dad supposes you have known Aaron all your life, and he's known you all of yours.

He expects anger to well up inside him, or betrayal, or grief. But seeing your bodies entangled in the sheets, he only feels peace. You fit together like this is what you were made for. Your dad smiles and closes the door gently.

#aaron hotchner #my writing #hotch x reader #reader insert #hotch/reader #aaron hotchner x reader #criminal minds #hotch one shot #fanfiction #fanfic #hotch fluff

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lakesparkles · 3 months

Note

hii!!! would you be willing to do a little doodle of your nega ramona and gideon interacting? understandable if you don't take requests I'm just in LOVE with your design of her and your au in general!!! feel free to also use this ask to elaborate about the au more instead because id love to hear that too :D

Hi!! :D

Honestly, I wasn't going to draw this request today (I'm afraid I'm drawing Gideon too much lately lmao sorry, he just can't leave my mind). But I got some pretty weird comments on this AU of mine that made me kinda sad... so I kept rereading this ask to cheer me up and I'm very thankful you like her and this AU!! It really means a lot in this moment!

Now, the important part, yes, I take requests and I love this one:

Just a few things make Gideon feel uneasy. She's one of them. Not because he thinks she might be a ghost, but because she looks too similar to Ramona.

And more about the AU:

I would like to say I finally started writing a fanfiction about it and I'm close to finish the first chapter ^^

It'll be seven chapters long and it'll be hard to write ngl, I never wrote something like this before, usually my fics are cute ship things.

I can share the first scene:

Ramona and Gideon - I . . . She decides to leave one last time Or

Ramona remembers the seven reasons that made her fall in love with Gideon

She had that same fantasy every day. As she walked down the halls, running her fingers along the wall, she imagined herself entering her own room. It was satisfying, somehow. She could perfectly see herself opening her wardrobe, taking out the few things that really interested her, putting everything in her bag and simply walking away. In that fantasy, of course, she always smiled. She even laughed. That kind of hysterical and cathartic laughter only present in films. She wanted to imagine how Gideon would react: how long would it be before he realized she wasn't there anymore? Two weeks? And when would he realize that this wasn't just another one of her "famous tantrums"? Two months? Two years? Part of her was almost excited at the prospect of making him furious with such an accomplishment. It would be his turn to take endless turns through the halls, finally using his brain to try to understand what had gone so wrong between them. Maybe he would find out years later. Or perhaps that doubt would eat away at him for decades to come, the bitterness of her image never leaving his mind. And part of her… thought that wasn't realistic. She knew Gideon well enough to know that he would never even consider any mistake on his part, with a mixture of confusion that never ended well when it came to him. Or worst. He wouldn't even care about her lack of presence in that house. Therefore, Ramona released her fingers from the wall, slowly slowing down her steps until she stopped altogether. Then the fantasy ended. Every single time.

#ask tag #// suggestive #gideon graves #ramona flowers #nega ramona #scott pilgrim #scott pilgrim vs the world #this answer is looong #my writing #ramona and gideon AU #<- temporary name

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mixelation · 10 months

Text

i wrote more reborn au. it is the situation described previously when tori has a non-team 4 mission go awry

i might change the timeline a little, but for now: tori is 16, and she has an official position in R&D so she takes fewer out of village missions. i might change it later but she gives her rank as tokubetsu jounin, because my interpretation of this rank is that you have some sort of high-value jounin-level skill (like fuinjutsu) but your OVERALL skills aren't really jounin level. so she got promoted hella fast after making chunin, but she gets stuck at this rank a while whereas itachi and deidara get to full jounin like immediately lmao. also she and itachi have been fake-dating a few months, but that's not relevant to the following

uuh also this has some stuff that i feel like doesn't punch as hard as it should without context to foreshadow it, so apologizes if some details seem to come out of nowhere???

The mission started off uncomfortable and it didn’t get much better.

The premise was this: a research team had tracked some rare scrolls all the way into the boonies of a tiny jungle territory between Fire Country and Water Country, which had historically been traded back and forth between both countries but was currently maintaining its status as an independent state after the fallout of the Third Shinobi War. It had no native ninja clans, but enough powers had occupied it that both Kiri and Konoha occasionally sent in probes to figure out if there were any leftover ninja-related valuables.

The idea was that a ninja village had the rights to ninja materials, even if they’d both technically agreed not to interfere with the tiny nation. Tori understood everyone in her life just accepted this as a morally neutral fact of the world and elected not to analyze it further for her own sanity. It wasn’t like she wasn’t ready and willing to forego her own ethical framework when it was convenient.

So the research team had followed some local leads to unearth an ancient and abandoned shinobi stronghold of unknown origin, but had been blocked from accessing it because the fuuinjutsu protecting it was so old no one on the team could figure out how to break it. This was how Tori was chosen for the back-up team Minato was sending in: if you wanted someone to disentangle an unknown and strange set of seals quickly and without damaging the surrounding structure, Tori was your girl. There simply wasn’t anyone else as good except Kushina herself, and Kushina had way more in-village responsibilities.

The risk of spending a long time at this location was that Kiri would inevitably notice and send their own team in, and then even if they avoided an outright conflict, Konoha risked Kiri running off with the scrolls or whatever other treasures happened to be in the stronghold, if any. This was how the rest of the Tori’s team was picked: combat ninja for back-up.

“Oh, this is the most fun part about being a fuinjutsu specialist, you know,” Kushina had told her, when she’d gone over to pick up fuinjutsu supplies from her office. “You get sent on all sorts of weird missions to all sorts of places, and work with all sorts of people!”

Kushina was… maybe more social and likable than Tori. Kushina could make friends with a rock. Tori, in contrast, somehow started a feud with half the people she met.

It started with some weird comments. Tori pulled a bottle of insect repellant out of a storage seal during one of their breaks on the first day, and her teammate made a snide remark about Tori living a life of luxury.

“...do you want some?” Tori offered.

She was literally just using a store-bought spray in a standard-design storage scroll. Kushina had told her off more than once for over-relying on storage scrolls which could be easily stolen or destroyed or lost, but she’d seen other shinobi do this. She’d seen their captain do this, earlier. This was normal behavior.

The weird comments continued from the same teammate, who was a rank-and-file jounin with no additional titles. Mostly they were jabs at her main designation being R&D: surprise she could clean fish, condescendingly assuring her she wouldn’t have to fight and risk chipping a nail. The comments got an occasional snicker from other ninja, but they weren’t overtly hostile and definitely not as mean as whatever the fuck Itachi might say just in friendly conversation. She gritted her teeth and beared it.

The guy was only like nineteen or twenty. Tori wasn’t sure what his problem with her was, since he was pretty young for a jounin and couldn’t be so untalented that it would make sense for him to have a chip on his shoulder, but also he was young enough that maybe he just hadn’t matured very much yet. Or maybe it was just that she was even younger and already a tokubetsu jounin and– gasp!– a woman. People generally highly praised Deidara and Itachi for making jounin so young, but their talents were generally more obvious, and also they were men. Shinobi were less sexist than the surrounding civilian attitudes toward women, but the misogyny still crept into their culture. Sometimes some men just got upset when women were smarter or stronger or higher ranked than them. Even Kushina occasionally got pushback.

(Not that no one ever acted jealous or insane to Itachi or Deidara– it was just that they got it less often, and people rarely acted like that twice, because both boys were nightmare people.)

So she ignored her teammate and didn’t think much of it. Sometimes people were just assholes. In Oto or in Akatsuki, this might have led to him doing something unspeakably horrible to her, but this was Konoha. Konoha ninja could be petty and mean and jaded, but they didn’t do that.

Tori hadn’t gotten to go into the jungles of this world often, and her mood did brighten even as the weather got hotter and more humid and they had to slow down as the foliage got denser. She liked seeing the shift in trees from Hashirama trees to broad-leafed jungle trees, seeing strangler figs and hearing tree frogs and finding the prints of a large cat. She even found delight in the presence of native giant leeches they also imported to their Forest of Death.

“The anticoagulants they excrete actually have a lot of medical applications,” she said cheerfully, poking one gently with a stick. They could also kill you if you let one attach for too long.

“Uh, okay,” said their captain. “Keep on task.”

“When you let a researcher out of the lab,” another teammate joked to the one who kept ragging on her. Tori rolled her eyes.

It took almost an entire week to get to the stronghold. During this time, the teammate that was ragging on her got both the other ninja with them to also start on the same sort of stupid jokes. Tori pulled a branch off a squat little tree and offered it to the teammate who’d started it all.

“Here, it’s an insect repellent,” she said, smiling as sweetly as she could. “Since you forgot to bring yours.”

For some reason, this just made the teammate meaner. By the time they researched the stronghold, she was getting accusations that she was only here due to favoritism from the fucking Hokage.

“On task,” the captain sighed, having also laughed at a couple of the jokes.

Whatever, Tori thought.

The lead of the research team, at least, didn’t even blink when he saw her. He was technically part of R&D. She had a reputation there.

The stronghold was a small, stone building overgrown with strangler figs. The research team had already removed the foliage from the entrance and revealed the seal protecting it, which probably saved at least half a day’s work. Still, the fuinjutsu on it was a mess, and it took Tori a couple hours to disentangle what was even going on.

The research leader bounced his knee in anticipation the entire time. Apparently they’d found evidence the night before of other shinobi in the area, and they were afraid Kiri could show up at any moment.

“Can’t you do that faster?” Tori’s captain asked as she made notes on her own scroll.

“Not unless you want me to risk blowing it up,” Tori replied.

“Well, try harder,” he said.

She wondered, vaguely, if he would have this attitude towards her if he hadn’t spent a whole week listening to someone make demeaning comments about her. Maybe she should have tried to nip that in the bud sooner? Usually she’d prefer an opponent underestimating her, but these were people she needed to trust her skills… she’d promised herself to stop thinking of everyone she met as an enemy until proven otherwise.

Well, whatever. The nice thing about her boss being a fuinjutsu master was that if this captain tried to report on her being too slow, Minato would put him straight immediately.

She got the seal off in record time. Instead of opening into the little building, the door led to a staircase that went straight down into the earth. Tori held back a comment about Oto also being arranged like this. She didn’t need to remind her asshole teammate that she was a foreigner on top of whatever he didn’t like about her.

“Great,” the research lead sighed.

The next several days were spent exploring the tunnels that turned out to be underneath the building. They were carved out by an underground river, which still flowed through the main passages. The remains of wooden walkways over it were still apparent, but the structure had largely rotted away and they were forced to walk on the walls or the river itself. There were more fuinjutsu-covered doors leading to narrow rooms and more fucking stairways down, in a confusing labyrinth of passages that mostly held nothing of value.

The combat team was roped into searching the tunnels in order to cover more area quickly, since there was the ongoing anxiety that Kiri could show up any minute. They all seemed bored by the slow progress of Tori opening up new passageways only for no one to find anything but rotting wood furniture and, once, some old and useless cookware. Tori was having fun, at least. Whoever had set up the security seals must have been high when they did it.

Then everything went to shit all at once.

Tori was taking her lunch break, squatting in the corner of an empty room and eating a protein bar, when her asshole teammate showed up to report he’d found another fuinjutsu-covered door. Many of the rooms had puddles from the river leaking through cracks, and the jounin rushed in so quickly he didn’t even bother water-walking over them.

The door he’d found was different from the rest, with an ornately carved stone door frame. It also wasn’t wood like the rest had been, held together against time by fuinjutsu. This door was a solid block of rock, a giant disc on the side of the door frame.

“I bet Hokage-sama will give us a bonus if we’re the ones who find the scrolls,” he said, his excitement obvious as Tori poked at the door. “They do that for object recovery, right?”

“I think that’s only if you find something that wasn’t a part of the mission parameters,” Tori replied, taking a step back to squint at the full seal. There wasn’t a universal pattern to them, but she was getting pretty quick about identifying and then dismantling the relevant parts.

“Pft, what do you know,” her teammate replied, kicking at a puddle.

“No offense,” Tori started, pulling out her brush and a jar of ink, “but what is your problem with me?”

Her teammate didn’t answer, watching her paint very carefully over the seal. The stone wheel that made up the door groaned and slowly rolled aside.

The room inside was definitely different from the rest. The back wall was nothing but running water, held in place by more fuinjutsu that formed a gently glowing web of chakra over it. There was also actual decoration on the exposed stone walls, carved and then painted in. In the center of the room was a stone pedestal with an obvious scroll box.

Tori’s teammate was obnoxious, but he was still a jounin and not an idiot. He waited for Tori to flick chakra-infused ink into the room and then perform a jutsu to check for traps.

The room itself was safe. The problem was that the pedestal was obviously boobytrapped.

“Can you undo it?” her teammate asked, peering at the box. It matched the description the research team had.

It was hard to reveal the seals on the pedestal and take a look. They were, in fact, more insane than what was on all the doors. Unlike the doors, these were meant to be somewhat permanent, not meant for anyone but the sealmaster who made them to take off.

“It’s… going to take some time,” Tori said cautiously. “But, shit, this array itself is probably valuable.”

She pointed to how it scattered down the pedestal to the river wall and then up and across the ceiling in a nonstandard shape. If it were disrupted, the seal holding the water back would break, immediately flooding the room. At the same time, the bit on the ceiling would collapse… something. Either the ceiling itself or wall with the exit.

There was a mechanism also holding the box in place and locked shut, so no random person would be able to move it or open it and then accidentally set off the trap. Breaking that part of the seal wouldn’t be any more difficult than the doors, but Tori would need some time to figure out how to disentangle this mechanism from the deathtrap so they didn’t set it off and could remove the scrolls safely.

“Alright,” the jounin said at length. “But you have to make it clear I’m the one who found it.”

Tori really, really didn’t think this mattered, but before they could decide what exactly to do, two strangers walked into the room. They were both wearing Kiri headbands.

“Are you kidding me?” the jounin said, stepping between Tori and the Kiri-nin and drawing a kunai.

She hadn’t noticed it over the rush of the river in front of them, but now that Tori was concentrating, she could hear the shouts of a fight outside.

“Oh nice, you found it for us,” one of the Kiri said. Both had swords drawn. Tori drew her own kunai and shifted into a fight-ready stance.

“Surely there’s a diplomatic solution to this,” she tried.

“Oops, too late,” the other Kiri-nin answered, flashing teeth at her.

Tori’s jounin teammate took a step back and whispered out of the corner of his mouth: “I’ll engage them. Get the box off.”

“But–” Tori started.

Behind his back, he signed that they’d flash step out. Tori nodded slowly. It was risky, and she wasn’t sure she could flash step quickly enough to not get caught in the trap, but a really good jounin could.

This was the best part of Konoha, she thought. Even assholes had your back.

One of the Kiri-nin chucked a handful of kunai at them, and Tori fully turned to back to face the seal on the pedestal. She heard the clink of her teammate batting the blades out of the air with his sword. Yes, even this guy had her back, no questions asked.

She barely watched the fight as she concentrated on her own work. Her teammate was a good fighter, and he managed to counter both ninja while also keeping any attacks from hitting her. It only took a few minutes for him to kill one of the Kiri-nin, after which the second backed off and tried more mid-range attacks.

“Got it,” Tori finally announced. Her teammate pounced on the Kiri-nin, plunging the sword into her.

“Do it,” he told Tori, turning to her with the wild eyes of man high on his own bloodlust.

“As soon as I release it, the seal–” Tori started to warn.

The Kiri-nin he’d left crumpled in the corner groaned and rolled onto her feet unsteadily, still alive.

“It��s okay, I got you,” her teammate said, wrapping an arm around her waist. “The faster we move, the faster we can back-up our teammates.”

“Right,” Tori agreed, poising her paintbrush. “On the count of three.”

What happened next was such a slimy move that it completely blindsided Tori, even if it shouldn’t have. Training herself to no longer assume that people were just going to screw her over for no reason had been a bad idea, it turned out.

She called one as she made the last of her brush strokes. Her mouth started on the syllable, and the jounin adjusted his grip on her so his hand was around the supply pack at the small of her back. He leaned over and put his hand over the box, his grip adjusted wide enough to wrap the last joints of his fingers over the top. This would be a weird as fuck hold for a joint flash step, but Tori didn’t give it a second thought. He just moved to put his hand on the box. That was their mission.

And then he flash stepped through the rubble suddenly raining down on them, taking the box and Tori’s pack with him, leaving Tori behind to be knocked over by the sudden wave of water.

The first few moments of the room flooding were chaos. Part of the ceiling and the entire wall collapsed, and debris hit her shoulder and legs as the water battered her around.

It calmed eventually, with the water only waist deep. Tori spat out water and fumbled for one of the glow sticks in her weapons pack.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” the wounded Kiri-nin asked when Tori lit up the room. “Holy shit, did he leave you on purpose?”

Tori bit her lip. Yes, he totally had. What the fuck. Konoha ninja weren’t supposed to be like this.

When Tori didn’t respond, the Kiri-nin wrote her off and started yelling at the collapsed wall for help. There was no evidence anyone heard her at all.

The good news was that the river wasn’t rushing in. Its source must have also partially collapsed, leaving the river at a small trickle.

“The water had a way out,” Tori announced, wading toward the back wall. “Maybe we can…”

She tried diving. When she found nothing, the Kiri-nin also tried. The exit the water had been taking before was completely sealed off.

“Oooh, we’re fucked,” the Kiri-nin sighed. “What the fuck was your friend’s plan?”

“I don’t…” Tori started. He should have taken her with him. It was well within his abilities. He’d told her.

He’d also taken her travel pack with all her fuinjutsu supplies. She still had some kunai and shuriken and a flare and a couple glow sticks in her weapons pack, but those would hardly help. She had a few scrolls still on her, but none of those were going to get her out.

The water was getting higher. Tori found she was shaking. Konoha ninja weren’t supposed to do this.

Old Tori had been physically weaker, but she hadn’t been this gullible, this stupid. She hadn’t been able to afford it.

“I-I can stop the water,” Tori told the Kiri-nin, embarrassed that her voice sounded like she was on the brink of tears.

The Kiri-nin eyed her with something that was either pity or disgust or both.

“Is this your first life or death mission, little girl?” she asked.

Tori let out a hysterical laugh. No, actually, she should have anticipated this happening from the first weird comment. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m sixteen,” Tori said. “They’ve sent me into worse.”

She said this more to remind herself. She’d survived worse. She’d just been an idiot, thinking she’d finally been in a position to trust people.

The Kiri-nin snorted.

“Whatever, Konoha. Don’t stop the water yet. That might be the only way out.”

The Kiri-nin performed a series of water jutsu, meant to scope out the walls and floor and ceiling and find any gaps they could take advantage of, either to drain the water or send a message for help or get out. It would make sense if the person who set up the trap also left a way to get out, rather, let themselves back in to retrieve their scrolls.

Tori wondered if the Kiri-nin would actually help her if she identified a way out, or if she’d also spitefully leave her for dead. How sad would it be, if she was betrayed by her own comrade and saved by a random Kiri-nin?

Tori didn’t get to find out the answer to the question, because the Kiri-nin didn’t find anything. If there was a way back in, it wasn’t accessible from the inside. The Kiri-nin leaned back against a wall, panting with exertion and holding her side where Tori’s teammate had stabbed her.

“I’m a medic,” Tori offered. Her medical supplies were off with her treasonous teammate, but she could still do some chakra-based stuff.

“Shut up,” the Kiri-nin groaned. “Okay, I’m going to dive again and try to get out through the river’s entrance.”

“You sure you don’t want me to at least stop the bleeding–”

“Shut up.”

The Kiri-nin dived. When she didn’t come back for a very long time, Tori waded over to the river’s entrance and attempted diving herself.

There wasn’t an opening big enough to fit her body through. Instead, she found the Kiri-nin’s body with her arm wedged into a crevice that must have collapsed further when she stuck her arm in. Tori couldn’t dislodge it to try and drag the woman back to the surface. She was dead, anyway.

Tori pulled one of her remaining scrolls from her vest and set up a barrier to block the influx of water. It was now up to her chest.

Then she pulled herself up to sit on top of the water and very quietly freaked out.

It wasn’t being trapped in a sealed room with two dead Kiri-nin that freaked her out, exactly. It wasn’t even that she had no idea if any of her teammates outside were alive or aware she needed help. It wasn’t even necessarily that her teammate had seemingly turned on her for stupid reasons.

It was that she had gone out of her way to assume an asshole was just an asshole, that Konoha ninja were the exception to the rule she’d learned through both her shitty lives, like an idiot. It stung, worse than she would have thought it would.

Her barrier eventually ran out of chakra, and as she watched it flicker and die, a horrible thought struck Tori.

No one was going to come help her, because her teammate was not going to report her as alive but trapped. He was going to report her as definitively dead, because there was no way he’d let her be seen alive to tell her side of the story.

Maybe, once they got back to Konoha and formally reported her KIA, Minato would send someone for her body. They usually only did that for people with stealable bloodline limits, but Kushina would probably push for it. Or maybe, if the rest of the team was all killed by Kiri or otherwise too injured to go back themselves, Minato would eventually send someone to check up on them. Neither scenario was a timeline where Tori would still be alive if she stayed in here.

In the best case scenario, her team beat off the Kiri-nin, and then someone came looking for her. The asshole teammate would protest, would insist she was dead in a collapsed and inaccessible room, but maybe someone would insist on retrieving her body.

It seemed unlikely. She’d already been too charitable with her assessment of this team. None of them were coming for her.

She had two more scrolls with barriers to hold back the water slowly seeping in. Neither of them had enough chakra to last more than a couple hours, but she could recharge them a few times with her own chakra, although without food, chakra would become a finite resource. She had maybe a day before she drowned using just these tools.

She could make a seal, of course. Her teammate had taken her supplies, and the ink and brush she’d had out before we lost in the flood, but she still had a body full of blood and plenty of surfaces to draw on. It wouldn’t be easy or neat, since blood required different calculations and wet, uneven rocks would be hard to draw on, but she could do it.

Her first idea was to tap into one of her storage dimensions. She had some food squirreled away in one, and some fuinjutsu supplies in another. The one she’d stuck a bunch of spare camping supplies in probably even had a better light source.

Okay, Tori decided, standing on the water, here I go.

xXx

Two days passed, and no one came for her. With food and fuinjutsu supplies, she’d been able to wrap a double barrier around the main source of water, but it must have been slowly seeping in from somewhere else too because the water level was still slowly rising. She could no longer stand fully on the water surface, and she’d had no good way to sleep.

She tried a controlled explosion on the wall she knew led to an open passage, but instead she’d just collapsed more of the room. There must not have been anything above her but more earth.

The explosion had also shaken the Kiri-nin’s body loose, and Tori didn’t really have anywhere to put it, so she was just… floating.

Tori’s new plan was to get a message to Konoha. Maybe a regular team wouldn’t get to her in time, but Minato could. She wasn’t sure he would, but…

She struggled to cling to this hope, even though it turned out trust was a lie and Konoha-nin were the types to just fuck you over for no reason.

Tori didn’t really have a good way to send a message herself. Between Itachi’s crows and Deidara’s animated clay, they’d always taken care of it when she’d been on a regular team. She’d never had a need to invent her own way. She stuck some messages into storage dimensions she knew Kushina also had the key to, but she wasn’t sure why Kushina would check them unless she knew Tori was in danger.

Which she wouldn’t know, because Tori’s teammate was an asshole.

She did know a couple time-space jutsu, but those were notoriously difficult, and she didn’t know any that wouldn’t require another person. She wasn’t even sure any solo ones existed, besides the Hiraishin, because usually you at least needed a receiver.

Tori ran option after option through her brain. She didn’t know shit about summoning jutsu, which would be super useful in this situation if not just for the ability to reverse summon. Could she logic her way through how they must work and then reverse engineer it…?

No, she’d have better luck reverse engineering the Hiraishin. At least she knew some of the theory behind that one.

Sitting on the water, the top of her head brushed the ceiling. Or maybe she should focus on making a full-wall seal to keep the water out. That she was at least positive she could do. But that would take so much time…

Tori stuck her head between her knees and willed herself not to cry. She still felt so fucking stupid, and the lack of sleep and floating corpse weren’t helping. Of course she shouldn't have trusted the guy who was making fun of her the whole time. Of course, of course, stupid, stupid, stupid.

She mentally flipped through everything she knew about time-space jutsu, feeling hysterical. She’d tried the Hiraishin before, and nothing had even happened because only two people in the world had ever managed it. Even with entire villages trying to beat it during the war, no one had even come close. It would be deeply stupid and arrogant of her to push forward assuming she could accomplish what entire teams of more experienced shinobi had failed to do.

She was developing a crick in her neck from being bent forward as she approached the ceiling, so she laid down on her back. All her clothes were already wet regardless.

Except, she had spent a lot of time thinking deep thoughts about the Hiraishin, because, well, it didn’t make sense no one had been able to copy it. Minato had left seals all over the place. No one had even been able to figure out how to undo them without removing the entire object the seal was on; it was why Iwa had been so terrified of them sneaking even one in.

The markers are only a guide for the actual jutsu, Minato had said when she’d asked, and then when she’d asked again and again, Only I can use them, because only I have my chakra.

But why couldn’t someone else use his chakra? She just couldn’t shove this explanation into her understanding of how space-time jutsu worked. Most of them worked using another user as a receiver on the other end, or else by using multiple people to throw something to a receiving array, and none of them worried about chakra incompatibilities. Tori had been considering using a fucking tree as a receiver, if she’d had the foresight to set up a tree-powered seal to be her receiver. And why the fuck hadn’t she done that, if she’d thought about it so much? How had she never anticipated being trapped with no hope of back-up? Old Tori would have never. Stupid, stupid, stupid–

Actually, Tori thought, sitting up on her elbows. Hiraishin wasn’t receiver-less, was it? Minato just did both jutsu on one end but somehow the marker anchored the receiving jutsu, somehow slingshotting him through space. Or at least that was the only way Tori could conceptualize it possibly working. You could, in theory, use an already active seal as an unmanned receiver; it was just that you needed to be really, insanely good to make a seal that complex that could stay active for long periods of time. That was why Tori’s idea had used a tree’s chakra to power the receiving end. But if you just had, like, some sort of tiny, self-sustaining guide for your receiver jutsu….? That was probably why it had to be Minato’s own chakra.

Tori had no idea how to simultaneously do two jutsu and also do them so lightning fast it was basically instantaneous from having the thought to teleporting, the way Minato did. But why couldn’t she include both in a seal, with one of his markers as the anchor? At the end of the day, Tori had taught herself to use fuinjutsu almost entirely with other people’s chakra. Her original concept she’d been working on (but never tested, like an idiot) had been based around a goddamn tree. She’d done extensive testing on how chakra from different sources varied and how to optimize jutsu to it. She could totally hijack one of Minato’s seals.

She was worryingly close to the ceiling now, even flat on her back. She drew a copy of a Hiraishin marker and then got to work painting a combination send-and-receive transport seal around it.

xXx

Tori found herself on a dark forest floor, gasping for breath. She had no idea where she was, but at least she was no longer under fucking water. Pine needles poked into her back as she collapsed, staring up into the canopy. The trees had spindly arms and the full moon peeked through.

The forest was still and quiet. Tori was working very hard on not hyperventilating.

I’m alive, she promised herself. I’m breathing.

Her body was shaking from adrenaline. She’d gotten a working seal painted in time, even if she’d had a hell of a time activating it. She was fine. She was alive.

She got about three seconds of time to lay there and breathe before Minato was suddenly on top of her, a rasengan waving in her face. Tori shrieked.

“It’s me, it’s me!” she screeched. The rasengan, being made mostly of chakra, gave off its own weak light, and Minato’s face was dead-serious as he commanded that she give various identifying codes to confirm her identity. Tori’s brain was already scattered and panicked from barely escaping drowning, and her answers came out garbled. Finally she yammered, “Who else would be hijacking your seals?”

Minato was quiet for a few moments, and then he released the rasengan. Rather than reabsorb the chakra, he let it spiral out in a gust of wind that made Tori shiver.

Minato stood. He was in his pajamas, and one knee was damp from where he’d been kneeling on her stomach. He offered her a hand. In the moonlight, his face looked weary.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he asked, sounding exhausted. “Report.”

The phrasing of the command meant that even if he was in his pajamas, he was talking to her as Hokage right now. Tori did her best to straighten up and explain herself like she would for a mission or a lab experiment gone wrong, but her story quickly turned into an upset ramble.

She didn’t know if her team was alive. She wasn’t even sure how much time had passed. Her teammate had been an asshole to her and she’d ignored it but she shouldn’t have because that was her clue she shouldn’t have trusted him with shit–

“How did you get here?” MInato cut her off. His voice was barely restrained emotion, stress and anger. Tori felt almost taken aback. She’d thought he’d care more than she nearly died.

She felt stupid that she was this upset over a bunch of nobodies leaving her for dead, about being this incoherent over almost dying. Wasn’t she tougher than this? Why did Minato being mad at her make her want to cry?

She walked him through the logic of her escape efforts. If Minato had any personal thoughts on her initial attempts or her aside that the Kiri-nin’s body had just been hanging out, he didn’t show them. His eyebrows did raise higher and higher as she described her eventual solution to her predicament.

“You just came up with that?” he asked. She couldn’t tell if he was dumbfounded or furious.

Maybe this will be when they decide I’m too dangerous and kill me, Tori thought. She’d thought she’d been safe from this inevitability, but maybe not.

“Well,” Tori replied slowly. The fact that no one could hijack his seals had been bugging her for years. He knew this, because his and Kushina’s own dismissive attitudes were why she’d been stuck on it. He knew this about her. She shouldn’t have to lie and back off. “I’ve been mulling it over, and I thrive under stress.”

Minato sighed loudly. He still seemed tense, but he wasn’t exactly angry, she didn’t think.

“We need to destroy it, even if you think the passage is inaccessible,” Minato told her. “Tori, I cannot stress how dangerous it is to leave evidence–” He cut himself off, frowning. “Shit, I can access it.”

And then he was gone. Tori shifted awkwardly, peering around her. She definitely wasn’t anywhere near Konoha. The amount of pine meant she’d probably ended up way further north, although she didn’t have enough light to be identifying exact species to narrow it down much further than that. How the hell did Minato aim this thing?

Tori was soaked, and the forest was colder than a Fire Country night. She shivered and peeled off her outer layer, wringing it out. A few minutes later, Minato returned, now also wet.

“Good news is, I destroyed it for you,” he told her. He still sounded stressed, but there was a hint of relief in there. “So that problem, at the very least, has been resolved.”

Minato was not mad at her for breaking his jutsu, per se, but everything about his body language was deeply tense. He banned her from ever drawing it up again without his direct supervision, or even mentioning the idea of it to anyone. Now that Tori wasn’t afraid of dying alone in a cave, it occurred to her that Minato had hundreds of his seals in Konoha. Tens of them were in his house alone. One was in the Kyuubi’s seal. If an enemy could do what Tori just did, they were all fucked.

Tori was very certain no one else on the planet could do what she did in this very specific regard, including Minato himself. But perhaps a motivated person could copy her, or an informed person could follow her line of research to figure it out themselves.

“Okay,” Minato finished his very long list of commands on things she was never even to think about doing again. He took a deep breath. “Now we can move on to the other problem. Your teammate did what?”

She walked him through the story again, and was relieved that she seemed too tired to cry. That asshole wasn’t worth her tears, although she still felt deeply stupid and almost embarrassed as she described what happened to Minato. She felt like a whiny kid recalling the passive aggressive comments, and then like a moron when she described trusting his plan.

When she was done, Minato said very slowly, “I want you to understand that I believe you, Tori. However, as Hokage, I will have to do an investigation before making any decisions.”

Tori frowned. “So no one sent a message?”

Minato raised an eyebrow. “Tori, you beat any message they could get to me.”

That seemed wrong, as Tori had also had this whole upsetting detour where she’d nearly drowned in an underground room.

“Okay,” Tori replied dully. “What do you want me to do?”

If he made her go back to her mission, she was going to throw a fit. Instead, he put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“You successfully completed your assigned part of the mission,” he said. “And, as much as you scared me, I’m really glad you didn’t die. I think you should get some rest.”

He brought her to his home. Tori had not seen full light in days, and even the kitchen overhead light made her squint and blink rapidly when he switched it on.

“I want to hear what they report before they know you made it back alive,” he told her in a hushed tone. “So lay low and hang out here a few days.”

Tori squinted at him. “That’s pretty mean,” she assessed. “I like it.”

She wasn’t sure how he would treat this situation if it happened to another shinobi. Certainly he wouldn’t let most people stay in his home; they didn’t exactly have a revolving door of house guests. It made her feel better, she thought as she showered off in the guest bathroom, to be reminded someone did value her as more than a tool or an obstacle.

Even if he commented about the mission first, her brain reminded her traitorously.

When she stepped out of the bathroom, a set of women’s pajamas had appeared neatly-folded on the guest bed. They were almost definitely Kushina’s, and given Kushina was significantly taller than her, fit comfortably loose. Tori stepped out of the guest bedroom to find Kushina angrily chopping vegetables in the kitchen.

“It’s 2 AM,” Tori told her. “What are you doing?”

Kushina paused, sticking her bottom lip out at Tori. She was wearing a baggy shirt that came down to mid-thigh and her hair was braided back and wrapped for sleep. Tori barely had time to react before she was in a hug.

“I’m working out my feelings in a productive way,” Kushina said, releasing her. “Besides, you need to eat.”

Tori did not want to admit she wanted a longer hug. Instead, she persuaded Kushina to let her eat cup ramen instead of the full course meal Kushina appeared to be preparing to make. Kushina did insist she felt better chopping things up and she was only saving herself time doing it later for dinner, so Tori sat at the table and listened to the rhythmic sound of Kushina taking out her anger on some carrots.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Kushina insisted more than once. Minato might have told her the basics to explain Tori’s presence, but surely Kushina didn’t know all the details of Tori’s mission. She was in no place to know if Tori had actually done anything wrong or not. Still, sometimes Kushina’s blind faith was reassuring.

“Thanks for the PJs,” Tori told her before escaping to bed.

She’d never stayed overnight in the Uzumaki-Namikaze house. She’d only ever seen the guest bedroom to dump her coat off before a party. But the bed was comfortable and had a thick comforter, and she found herself bone-tired. She fell asleep immediately.

#reborn au #my writing #this is almost 7k making it TWICE as long as i wanted it to be. why

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