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wri0thesley · 6 months ago

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cw: cunnilingus, not sfw, arranged marriage reader wearing a gown (no pronouns). based on this post from a few days ago. 3.1k

There's a pout on your pretty mouth that Wriothesley is utterly itching to kiss off.

It’s an expression he’s grown rather used to on the face of his spouse; somebody as properly born and bred to society as you finds themselves a touch adrift when faced with Wriothesley’s own gruff manner, his inability to kowtow to the strictures that Fontainian society attempts to place on those who have ascended to its lofty heights.

Unfortunately, when his availability had become common knowledge and eager parents had flocked to him in order to hawk their beloved children like so many lovely wares, he had found himself exceedingly drawn to you. To the stiff little way you held yourself and inclined your head, the way your voice had shook - the way that you hadn’t immediately tried to flutter your lashes and laugh at things that were not jokes.

It had not hurt that your family, though fine of name and lineage, had fallen somewhat into financial difficulty. Some parents had withdrawn their offspring from the game of courtship when it had become clear that though Wriothesley now had the title of ‘Duke’, he was still at heart a former criminal, and not the genteel fawning aristocrat they had expected to find.

(A title is not enough to take back over half a life spent in the fortress of Meropide, after all; not enough to scrub the memory of noses crunching beneath his fists, of what it feels like to end someone’s life even if it is for the greater good).

Your family, though, had needed the boost; the Mora and the prestige. And so you had remained achingly polite and maddeningly prim and proper and so very obviously inexperienced that the sweetness of it all made the back of Wriothesley’s teeth ache.

“Where are you taking me?” You ask him, in a soft whisper, as his hand fastens firmly but not bruisingly about your upper arm; as your husband maneuvers you away from the chatter of the ballroom. “You’ve barely greeted anyone--”

He knows you are scandalised; that your parents have taught you to be the gracious party guest, to bow and chatter idly and wax poetic about crystal champagne glasses. But Wriothesley has spoken to Chief Justice Neuvillette (just as out of place and adrift here as Wriothesley himself), and he considers that his duty properly done. He has no desire to do the things that are expected of him.

Not when that pout on your face - the way the light hits the glimmering petals of your lower lip - is begging to be kissed within an inch of its life, and the moonlight streaming through the windows is illuminating the curves of you in your pretty gown, and he knows that you will squirm and squeak and call him a dirty old man in that way he loves, your voice pitching with desire you’re still not sure about, the moment he has you alone at his mercy in one of the shadowed hallways of tonight’s party.

“Just to get some air,” he says, giving a smile that’s all wolf-bared teeth to the closest gentleman who dares to give you both a briefly disapproving look. “Isn’t it just so horribly stuffy in there?”

Your nose wrinkles, between your brows creasing. Wriothesley thinks about kissing every place the flesh furrows on your face, covering you in them until you’re helpless to do anything but laugh. He always feels like a hero when he has managed a laugh out of you; you seem to give them so rarely, and it’s such a darling little bell of a noise.

“It’s barely been ten minutes,” you settle on, the faintest hint of reproach in your voice. “It’s really not polite . . .”

What is not polite, he thinks, is the way that the run of his thoughts have turned to your dress, cut low enough to make people think indecent thoughts about you. There are no manners, either, to the fact he is thinking about the perfume he had watched you dab on this evening, and wondering how long he’d have to rut into you until the only thing that people could smell on you would be the musk of his ownership.

“They’ll live,” Wriothesley says firmly, steering you out into the hallway. “You ought to know nobody here really wants my esteemed company.”

There’s no bitterness in his voice. Wriothesley does not want to be beloved of this particular roiling mass of humanity; the aristocracy, in his experience, is all artifice. He may spend his time with criminals, but at least the criminal underclasses are usually honest about what they want. They’ve been taught that ‘you do not get if you do not ask, do not try, do not work for it’ - these people, this gathering of society schmoozers . . . they get simply by being born.

Of course, since he married you, there have been more invitations than before.

Part of it is curiosity - what kind of spouse will the Duke of the Fortress take? One like him, who does not conform? Some of them want nothing more than to ogle at you and find out your secrets, poke you in your softest parts so they know if you will be a weakness that they can later exploit. Wriothesley finds these people distasteful - at least some of the invitations come from those who have already met you, who have been charmed by your pretty manners and sweet way of speaking, who are hoping that perhaps you will be some calming influence on your uncivilised brute of a husband. He still doesn’t like these invitations, of course (any event in which he is forced to put on a stiffly starched shirt and button it to his throat, to fuss with cravats and tailcoats when he’d rather stick to his own clothes, are not generally met with much pleasure for him), but at least you always seem thrilled to get them.

It’s because of you he had accepted this one. When you had brought the invitation to him all bright-eyed and chirping, like a pretty magpie with a shiny coin, he had not been able to think of an excuse faced with you looking so utterly thrilled . . . and so he’d helped you choose a dress (he does so love you in black and red, and if he had chosen something cut low in the chest for reasons of his own, who is going to blame him when they see you?), and had travelled out of the Fortress in order to please you.

He’d only lasted ten minutes, but perhaps after he’s pleased himself the two of you can go back out into the throes and he will have the memory of what you’ve just done to dwell on as he pretends to care about the difference between the fish fork and the dessert fork.

“That’s just because you don’t let them see the real you,” you begin, but Wriothesley has seen what looks like a likely little hallway - secluded and dark, only one or two doorways leading off of it. He tugs at you, and though you offer a token resistance, you allow yourself after a moment to be pulled into the little alcove, and for your husband to cage you against a wall. Your breath catches, your lashes fluttering as your eyes flit to take in the breadth of him, the muscles, the way you are inescapably caught by him - and Wriothesley does not miss the desire that dances over your gaze. “Your Grace--”

“Mmm?” He asks, raising an eyebrow, lowering his face closer to yours so that he can see himself reflected in your eyes. His cock twitches at the way you bite your lip unconsciously, and he knows from the little gasp that you do not miss the sensation of it against you. “Am I doing something untoward again, sweetheart?”

He lets his voice roughen a touch on the word; the patois of the criminal flavouring it in a way that reminds you he is dangerous, and you pout so sweetly and let out the quietest little whine that he doesn’t know how he stops himself from having his way with you right then and there. There are many untoward things he would like to do to you; many untoward things he is planning on doing to you, right here, in public.

“It’s indecent . . .” You gasp - but you still wrap your arms around his neck, and still pull him in to let him kiss you hot and hungry and fierce as a wolf. He cannot get enough of the way you taste beneath him; there is sugar that lingers on your lips even when he hasn’t seen you imbibe anything but a single glass of champagne when offered. He wants to devour you; to taste every part of you, until his mouth only remembers the lingering remnants of your own.

You gasp, pressing your body - soft and impossibly pliable - against his wherever you can reach him, hard planes of muscle meeting the softer give of your flesh beneath your gown.

“You seem to like it well enough,” he murmurs, pulling back just enough to whisper it into the delicate shell of your ear, delighting in the way the words make you shiver. You try to school your face to sternness, but your own desire betrays you even as you try and pull your dignity around you like a cloak.

“B-But, Your Grace, in public--”

“Mm . . . doesn’t the thrill of being caught make it seem all the sweeter?” He gives you a grin that shines like the sharks that sometimes float past the Fortress, serenely serrated. You squeak in a cross between dismay and longing as he sinks to the floor, and his big, scarred hands find the hem of your gown to begin pushing it up your ankles.

The frills and fripperies of lace and ribbons look almost wicked, in those hands; fine, delicate concoctions of fabric and satin that were not made to be man-handled. You shiver at the thought of his grip ripping through them; of fine fabrics being rent asunder in his hands as you know he is capable of.

“We shouldn’t--” You whisper, in that pitching whine of ‘don’t’ that is only a step away from ‘please don’t stop’.

His palms - he will not even grudgingly wear full gloves - feel cool, even through your stockings, as he slides them up your calf. His chuckle is a rough-spurred thing, and before you can say anything further he has disappeared beneath your skirts entirely, and you find yourself clinging to the moulding on the wall behind you to try and get some semblance of purchase.

He tugs at one of the ribbons that keeps your stockings held up, and from the hot puff of air against your bare thigh, you know he has done so with his teeth. Your pulse flutters in your throat, your vision fair spotting with the mixture of feelings that Wriothesley’s actions are drawing forth from you - desire and shame and wanting and need and unsurety, all mixing together inside of you in a cocktail of arousal so potent you barely know how you stand it.

A wet, open-mouthed kiss is pressed to the spot above your stocking, on your bare thigh. You feel the graze of his teeth against the soft skin, unseen by anyone aside from him. Unmarked by anyone aside from him (you have learnt that the Duke is very fond of using his teeth, during his bed-chamber escapades; you have learnt more at his mouth and his fingers and his mercy than you had ever thought that you would have cause to know).

Wriothesley’s cock is so hard in his too-tight formal trousers that he can barely think of anything but the pulse between his thighs, but the moment he has his head beneath your skirts and he can scent your arousal on the air, all thoughts of tending to his own almost-painful erection instead turn to tasting you, smelling you, burying himself inside of you until you are a helpless mess.

He knows that logically you taste, probably, of the oils and the powders and the lotions you use, on your skin and in your bath. Perhaps a touch of your own sweat - but to Wriothesley, the taste that lingers on the tip of his tongue as he takes his time kissing up your thigh, working towards the apex between them, is nothing short of ambrosial. He can hear his own breaths, hard and panting, but he has never been the kind of man who lets himself feel shamed for doing what he wants.

“You’re dripping,” he grunts, and the muscles in your thighs jump, tensing, as if you’re cringing at what he has said - and though he cannot see you from his place beneath the skirts of your gown, he can gladly imagine the expression on your face. You’re darling. He wants to kiss you until you can’t breathe and fuck you until you can’t walk; but for now . . .

He settles by kissing over the softness of your mound, letting his hot breath once more fan out over that most intimate part of you. He hears you whine again from somewhere above him;

“Wriothesley, you’re being obscene . . .”

He lets his mouth fully envelope your cunt; lets his tongue lathe out across your folds, flickering against your clit in a way that makes you violently jerk. The moan that you let out is muffled - one of your own (gloved, as is right and proper in society) hands has flown up to your mouth. Though he will miss the sound of your enjoyment unencumbered, he supposes it is better for privacy if you at least make an attempt.

“So you want me to stop?” He growls, the taste of your slick lingering on his tongue, honey-thick and just as sweet. To drive in the point of what you would be missing, he lets himself give your clit - the swollen nub standing to attention, as if begging him for more - a kitten lick.

“Don’t even think about it, you scoundrel,” you say, whisper-soft and gasping, and Wriothesley knows you cannot possibly fail to sense the curve of his lips against your cunt.

“As you wish,” he says. “Never let it be said that I don’t take my duties as a Duke and a gentleman seriously.”

And he returns to his task with voracious excitement.

He has done this to you before, but never in public - never with you standing, never with the threat of discovery looming over his head . . . he finds he does indeed quite enjoy the thrill, so he takes his sweet time exploring your folds with his tongue, letting himself be even wetter and messier than he’d normally be.

The sound is indeed obscene, as he delves the tip of his tongue between your folds - as he finds your pulsing entrance and toys with it, slipping just a little of the flexible muscle inside of the channel until he feels you try and clamp down on it, before he returns to the wet circling of your fluttering hole.

His nose presses directly into the softness of your mound, grinding against your clit with every slight adjustment of his head. Normally, you’d at least be able to tug on his hair as he did this (and he’s rather fond of that too - the way you do even that so neatly, so apologetically), but now you are entirely at his mercy and it is obvious from the tremble in your thigh, as if you are going to swoon to the floor at any moment.

You shift to rest more against the wall and Wriothesley takes that as an excuse to manhandle you - he takes one of your thighs and slings it over his shoulder, unbalancing you but for a moment - but giving him far better access to the spot between your legs.

Far easier, like this, for him to use thumb and forefinger to tease the lips of your labia apart and to settle his mouth around the pearl of your clit.

You jerk in surprise again, more soft muffled whimpering coming from above. He can make out a few of the words - ‘scoundrel, rake, you filthy pervert, Wriothesley Your Grace please don’t stop--’

He is not a cruel husband, so he does not.

Your clit, pulsing with need, is drawn into his mouth - and Wriothesley takes great pleasure in suckling upon it the way that one might a particularly delicious candy, his tongue lathing over and over and over. You squirm in his grip, and he imagines your face as it always is when you are close to the edge. You tremble and sweat and shake for him and Wriothesley needs you to fall apart like he needs air.

He redoubles his efforts; his other hand clenches on your inner thigh, his forefinger finding the pulsing, clenching hole of your sex. As he sucks, he gently inserts just the tip of it inside of you, and oh, you are greedy for more than his mouth--

You come with a strangled cry that is not quite caught by your glove - a clamping of your thighs around Wriothesley’s ears, and a gush of wetness that Wriothesley is more than happy to let flow into his open mouth and down his chin, to stain the collar of his starched white shirt.

When your aftershocks are over - when you are trembling not so violently, and he trusts you to stand on your own two feet, he presses a kiss to your cunt before he returns your leg to the ground.

He disentangles himself from your skirts, his knees only aching a little - nothing, really, compared to the inescapable pulse of his cock where it’s longing to be pressed hot and deep inside of you. He does not bother wiping his mouth of your release - and when you see him, his face shiny and wet with the proof of your enjoyment, you huff in embarrassment and avoid his gaze.

You’re the sweetest little thing, he thinks again fondly. Even though you had moments ago been rutting against his mouth like the most brazen and desperate creature in Teyvat . . . now, faced with the proof of what you’ve done, you’ve gone over all proper again.

Deftly and firmly, he takes your chin in his hand and presses a kiss against your mouth, making sure your own taste lingers on the soft petals of your lips. He makes sure he takes full control of it; that it is a press of his ownership of you like his seal pressing into wax on the missives he writes down in the depths of the Fortress. If only you knew just how much of him you owned in turn.

“I think,” he says, his voice thick, “I feel much improved. And you were right, sweetheart, about it being rude to leave a party so quickly. Should we return back to the ballroom?”

#writing #genshin impact posting #not sfw text #wriothesley x reader #drabble #genshin impact x reader #wriothesley smut #genshin impact smut

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randxmthxughts · 2 years ago

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

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

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

wc: >12k

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

masterlist

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Neteyam, please,” Tsireya pleads.

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

“Sure.”

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t mind.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I did.”

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

“That is not true,” you disagree.

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

“Well…no,” you shake your head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No gifts?” he quirks his eyebrow.

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

“Seashells? Do you like those?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Lied?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Is that why you lied?”

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

“Secret dates?”

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

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

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

“A month?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What did you say?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And afterwards?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Neteyam snorts, like it’s an unlikely possibility.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You alright?” you whisper.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Very funny,” Neteyam rolls his eyes.

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

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

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

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

“Hey, what’s wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right,” he nods.

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

“Stop that, skxawng.”

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

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

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

“Let it go, Lo’ak,” Neteyam grunts.

“Who’s Naye?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

You stiffen, feeling their gazes intensifying on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Neteyam,” you greet him.

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

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

“Actually… no,” he follows you in.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

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

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

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

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

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

“I take you on a date?”

“A date?” you smile, “Alright.”

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

“What should I wear?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I do,” he breathes out.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh,” that’s all she says.

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

“Just say it,” you urge her to speak.

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

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

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

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

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

“Who?” your voice hitches.

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

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I wanted to," he responds shyly.

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

"Let me show you something," he smiles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

“Is something wrong?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was it because of me?” he pushes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

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

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

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

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urinarythreatinfection · 3 months ago

Text

Dude I keep trying to do my book report but the book is so boring bro. I feel bad saying that since it's based on a true story but I'm trying my best. I might be cooked though it's due today. Have this that I wrote instead.

Charm You to Jealousy

Shanks x top male reader. Smut. Reader gets jealous because Shanks is handsome. Spoilers for Ep 1112. This isn't dubcon Shanks just likes being whiny. 3,180~ words.

“Haha..” Shanks laughs awkwardly as he catches the woman that lunged onto him. Everyone around him fawns over him, worrying over if he’s going to be okay or that he doesn’t need to be the one to defeat Kid. He’s flattered, he really is, but he needs to get going! He doesn’t mean to underestimate Kid, but he doesn’t overestimate him either. He holds the woman to his body for a moment before pulling back and walking to the dock. He turns back to look at them “Don’t worry, our enemies are famously weak.” The redhead says cheekily. It’s only when his expression lands on you that it falters ever so slightly. There’s a smile on your face as you look at how beloved he is, the way women he’s most likely been with before you swoon over him, but it doesn’t reach your eyes. It’s when he’s about to say bye to you, to try and show he hasn’t forgotten about you, when his eyes widen and his observation haki gives him a vision of an unfortunate future. Panic fills his mind and he takes one quick glance at you then quickly jumps off to save everyone. You watch him go, it’s to be expected. How admirable he is, you love him for that; plus, your comfort in the moment is much less than the lives of countless. You look down at the women that were with him, resting your chin on your hand. They’re pretty, the type of women Shanks was into before you two started to date. You don’t have their large breasts or their soft features, nor the body meant to connect with someone the opposite gender. You aren’t one to feel too insecure about that, of course. It’s been proven enough that Shanks is more than into you. You look out into the ocean, watching as your love saves the day once again. An ugly emotion blooms in your heart, unwelcome and dark.

…………..

After everything is done, he finally gets a moment to rest his mind. Looking at the sinking ship of the Kid pirates, he sighs. “Kids these days get too strong too fast.” He says as he walks further onto the Red Force. Shanks expected Kid to have gotten stronger, but enough to destroy multiple ships at once was unexpected. It’s then that your expression comes to mind, the smile that didn’t reach your eyes. He looks around a few times after he remembers but doesn’t see you “Shit.” He mumbles to himself. His crew overhears this and start to snicker despite Shanks’s small panic.

“In trouble, Captain?” Yasopp asks teasingly and Shanks sighs as they sail back to the island’s dock.

“Hopefully not too much..” The redhead says, but before he can go look for you inside the ship, people call for him. ‘Dammit.’ What’s worse, he feels your gaze on him. It’s harsh, and he resists the urge to shiver. He needs to go find you, but he should calm his subordinates first. He hops off of the ship and, again, a woman hugs his waist. She clings to him happily and he puts his hand on her hip, trailing it up to pat her back. “See? I told you everything would be fine.” He tells everyone.

“You took care of him so easily! We have to have a celebration!” One of the men say and Shanks, for the first time in a long while, actually feels not that excited for a celebration. He’s always excited to drink, of course, but the longer he keeps you waiting the worse things are going to be.

“A celebration for beating such a weak pirate?” He asks, raising a brow. “You sure you aren’t just using me as an excuse to party?”

“Nonsense! Our chief saving our island and people is always a cause for celebration!” The man responds and everyone cheers.

‘This isn’t working out.’ Shanks thinks to himself. “That sounds great but I should get going.”

“Ehhh? Already?” They all yell. “We wanted to thank you for saving us though!”

“Yeah, sorry. No need to thank me either, it’s my fault a big shot came to this island.” The captain continues to try and escape from the people, picking up a few women to place them further back. Beckman watches this, amused. He almost considers letting the redhead deal with this himself, but alas, he is the first mate and he is supposed to help the captain.

“C'mon everyone, let the Captain rest.” Beckman tells them, patting one of them on the back while he motions for the other townspeople to leave as well.

“Yeah, don’t tire him out now, he’s gonna need his energy!” Lucky Roux says knowingly with a laugh, making Shanks cringe.

“Well, okay. See you later Chief!” The women and men say, a few giving him a kiss on the cheek. Once they’re gone Shanks sighs in relief, then slowly trails his vision over to you, sweating as he notices an even more insincere smile on your face. You narrow your eyes sinisterly and head inside the ship. He curses and quickly makes his way inside too.

“We’ll save you a seat, Captain!” Lucky yells to him.

“Yeah, and we’ll make sure it’s cushioned too!” Yasopp adds and they all start to laugh, voices fading as Shanks follows you. He trails through the halls and eventually finds you, grabbing your shoulder to turn you towards him.

“Heyyyy!” He says with a friendly voice, “You know they don’t mean anything to me, right, love? Well not ‘anything’ but not like you-” He’s interrupted as you grab his collar and pull him into a rough kiss. He takes a step back, and you pin him to the wall. He shivers slightly as your tongue slips into his mouth and his into yours, intertwining the two muscles. Shanks grips onto your arm and groans softly when you lick the roof of his mouth. With that, you pull away, a string of saliva connecting the two of you for a moment. His face flushed as he catches his breath, voice full of anxious hope. “...Is this a sign you’re not that mad at me…?” The redhead asks, panicking as one of your hands slips under his shirt and grips tightly onto his waist. Your eyes narrow and your smile widens.

“What do you think?”

_______________________

“Hah~ nnGH~!” Shanks groans into the pillow, clutching the sheets beside his head like a lifeline as you slam into his lifted hips mercilessly. He’s already cum twice, you once, sweat glistening on his back as the muscles tense under your hand with every thrust. Your other hand goes to his hair and pulls his head up, his mind swimming as you lean over him.

“Don’t hide now, thought you loved the attention?” Your voice rumbles into his ear and his dick twitches, his eyes rolling back for a second when an especially hard pump hits his prostate harshly.

“s..sorry soRRy- AHh~!” Shanks moans with a gasp as you spank him, the hand on his back moving to squeeze one of his pecs.

“No, there’s nothing to apologize for. How could I blame my lover for being himself? Even if he’s an attention whore.” You pinch his swollen nipple harshly, sending pain and pleasure through his body. “I’ll give you the attention you crave, enough to feel it when you show yourself off to everyone else.” Shanks thinks about being in front of his subordinates, trying to hide the pain in his lower half and cover any marks made by you. The feeling of him squeezing around you makes you chuckle. “You liked that, didn’t you? The thought of them finding out their strong chief got fucked like a slut then tried going to their celebration like it didn’t happen. Wonder what those girls would think, knowing that. They probably think or even remember you as some dominant man. Fantasizing about you when the truth is you’re addicted to getting used by your boyfriend.” You grab and lift his torso up, wrapping your arms around his waist so you can pound into him so hard he forgets how to think; only able to let out a weak groan as he cums for the 3rd time. All that comes out of his mouth are moans and whines now, unable to form words as tears form in his eyes from overstimulation. That doesn’t matter though, you know he can keep going. “Is my pretty slut tired? You can give me one more, right?” You ask and he shakes his head, gasping when you press a hand on his lower stomach. “You can, don’t underestimate yourself.” Shanks whines as you suck a hickey into his back, whispering dirty praises into his ear until he’s aroused enough to get hard again. “There you go~” He feels like he’s about to collapse as you kiss the back of his neck. “C’mon, be good for me, Captain.” You stop to grind into him, making him groan at the feeling of your dick massaging his prostate. Your cum is pushed further into him and his dick twitches in pleasure.

“(Y/n)..” His voice rumbles as his eyes close, mind clearing up just enough to say your name.

“Turn your head.” You tell him and press your lips against his, his eyes going half lidded with a mewl as you start to thrust again. He’s kissing back despite his foggy head, instinct from making out with you. It’s not done yet though, and once you feel like he’s had enough time to calm you start getting rough again. He’s struggling to keep himself up, your arm wrapping around his waist the only thing keeping his hips lifted.

‘I’m.. gonna pass out.’ Shanks manages to think. ‘Feels too good…!’ He curses that he didn’t take care of Kid sooner, instead choosing to calm the nerves of the people first. Out of character for the captain, but he can’t think rationally when he’s getting fucked to an inch of his life and his love is upset with him. His orgasm starts to form inside of him and he pulls away from the kiss to pant. He’s gonna die, he’s gonna die and it’s because he’s too handsome and charming to be unpopular. Your voice reaches his ears, but his brain can’t make it out very well, just knowing that it’s you behind him. At least you’re the one that’ll kill him, this might not be so bad. He lets out a gasp when you twitch inside him then grab his dick. "W-Wait wait!” He’s able to cum untouched, but he’ll need a bit of help this time. He grabs your wrist, weakly tugging to no avail as you start to jerk him off. Shanks looks back at you with teary eyes, pleading.

“Shh, it’s okay. Just this last time. After that you can go to that party and pretend you’re a perfect handsome man. For now,” It doesn't work. You tighten your grip and he sobs. “I just need you to cum again for me.” He looks forward, tears streaming from his eyes as he feels himself reaching that peak again. Finally, he lets out a loud broken cry as he shakes and spasms around you. “Fuck you’re so pretty like this.” You coo into his ear as it rips through him like lightning, pain and pleasure filling his body. You can’t hold back longer either, the urge to cum into him again filling your mind. Your grunts mix with his weak whimpers, so slutty and vocal for you. “I-I want you to remember this, everytime someone puts their hands or eyes on you with want, I want you to remember how easily you moan for my c-cock.” You grunt out, ending your sentence with your dick shooting cum into his warm walls. You don’t know if he heard you say that, but you know his body will remember for him. After a while of catching your breath you pull out of him, a lewd sticky noise accompanying before seeing your cum flow out of him. “Fuck, what a sight..." You mumble, burning the image into your head. Sweat glistens on his back and his head spins before he goes limp. “Ah.” You lay him down and turn him over onto his back, your breath catching in your throat. His hair sticks to his forehead, tears staining his face and his lips swollen with kissing and biting. There’s hand marks on his waist and hips, bite marks around his swollen nipples. He’s completely wrecked, his closed eyes opening just to look at you for a few seconds before he manages to give a weak smile; then he passes out. “Oops.” You exclaim, then look at the clock in the room. At this rate he’s gonna be late, but looking back at him you doubt he can go in this state; even if the thought is slightly nice to think about. Just a bit. Plus, your body is also a bit exhausted, to be honest. Love conquers all, though, and you get off of the bed and onto your feet; picking up your unconscious boyfriend to clean him up as best you can. It’s a bit difficult when he’s unconscious, but you make sure to use warm water and lots of care. He stays asleep the entire time, which isn't too surprising since he can sleep through most things; though he does make cute hums in his sleep when you rinse off his hair and snores when you’re drying him off. Once he’s all cleaned up you change the sheets quickly and place him onto the bed. It’s a good thing you’re strong, Shanks isn’t light by any means. You stand there, staring at him. ‘Is he.. gonna be able to go like this?’ You ask yourself, seeing his burnt out body. ‘I’ll go see Hongo just in case.’ As soon as you step into Hongo’s office he tosses icepacks and ointments to you.

“Here.” He’s too used to you and Shanks’s antics to be unprepared or surprised, especially when he could hear his captain’s moans while walking through the hallway to get to his office. “Seriously, I don’t know if I should be impressed with him or you that you guys manage to make that much noise. We even put soundproofed it too.” Hongo says with a sigh.

“I’m just that good.” You gloat jokingly, holding the items in your arms.

“Yeah, well, we don’t need to know to this extent.” The doctor replies and you laugh a little. “I don’t know how rough you were with him, but people are gonna be disappointed if the captain doesn’t go.” Your eyebrows furrow s the consequences of your actions settle in. “Don’t make that expression. He’s grown, he knew what he was doing.” You tilt your head in confusion but Hongo just waves you off to figure it out yourself. It’s when you get back to your shared room when you put the pieces together, could it have been on purpose? No way, right? Shanks is on the bed, snoring loudly. You walk over and put an icepack on his neck, causing him to jolt awake.

“Cold!” He yelps, coughing afterwards from the strain of his voice. You hand him a glass of water, he takes it and gulps it down. “Thanks, sweetiepie.” You stare at him and he’s confused. “What, do I have something on my face? Other than handsomeness, of course.” His voice is raspy, but you still catch the slight nervousness.

“Did you make me jealous on purpose?” You ask him and he quickly avoids eye contact. “So you did.” He scratches the back of his head.

“I didn’t think you would get that jealous.” The redhead mumbles and you resist the urge to shake him.

“I knew it was weird, you were leaning into those kisses and you didn’t need to put your hand near her ass either.” You pinch the bridge of your nose as Shanks laughs anxiously. He pats his lap.

“C’mon~ It’s not that big a deal. Plus, my hand was an appropriate distance away from her ass. I would kn-” You grab and squeeze his nose harshly. “Owowow sorry sorry, I couldn’t resist the joke!” If he wasn’t already a wreck you would’ve bonked his head by now.

“You’re going to the banquet.” You state, letting go of his nose.

“I want to, but I’m a little.. well..” He motions to his naked body covered in marks. “I’m getting old too, my hips hurt like hell. I wouldn’t be surprised if you aged them.”

“I said earlier that you would go, yeah? So you’re going. I’ll carry you over there like a pretty princess if I have to.” You tell him and he gets a serious look on his face as he actually considers the pros and cons of being carried like a pretty princess. The pros are he doesn’t have to walk over there and he can just use you instead of having to get up, the cons are that his crew would make fun of him and he isn’t sure how the rest would react. “You seemed pretty interested in people finding out earlier.” His cheeks tint slightly at that, he would allow it if it was just his immediate crew but there’s too many reasons to not do the same in front of everyone else.

“I’ll go, you can carry me some other time.” He stands up and almost falls over until you catch him. “Shit, you did a bigger number than me than I thought.” Shanks doesn’t want to leave everyone hanging though. Thankfully, you two are used to this. You put him down on the bed and put ointment on any bigger marks or bites, he shivers a little when you put it on his nipples. Once that’s done you dress him up and ice his eyes and lips. “Can’t see.” He says as the icepack covers his vision, voice muffled by the one on his lips.

“Hold it.” You tell him and he takes over icepack duty, you take the chance to put makeup over any visible marks. Would be easier to just button up his shirt but that would cause way more attention than a few faint marks. Once everything’s done he puts the icepacks down. To be honest, his face still looks like a mess.

“Maybe we can put some lipstick on me, only if you kiss it on tho-” You put the icepack back on his lips. Should be fine, Shanks looks a little rough all the time anyway. Maybe you guys can say it was the heat that did it.

………………

“Woohoo! Congratulations!” Yeah the excuse didn’t work. At least everyone was happy for you, even the women from before. They seemed really bummed at first but they changed their mind when they saw Shanks’s face and the faint marks. They started going to you instead or staring at Shanks in awe. Apparently it’s way more interesting to stare at a handsome man slightly wrecked than try and have him when he’s taken. Love conquers all, even if their curious stares are a little embarrassing.

Yeah I'm cooked lol its due in like 6 hours.

#one piece #anime only #shanks #one piece x reader #anime #shanks x reader #fanfiction #shanks x male reader #shanks x top male reader #top male reader #bottom character #one piece smut #smut #shanks smut #shanks gets railed nasty style

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drakoneve · 1 year ago

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Destined Meetings

request: Hey, do you think you could write something where the reader is related to tig somehow, and they're in charming for work or college and they start a relationship with juice? Cute and a little angsty at first?

pairing: Juice Ortiz x Trager!Reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: club crimes, reader's mom isn't the best + suggested childhood trauma, alcohol and drug (maryj) use

a/n: there will be another part for sure, but i might make this a bit of a mini-series, lmk what you think. happy reading!

Tig hardly ever talked about it, but he'd been married once. He would rather die than ever admit he loved anyone but Dawn and Fawn, but he loved her. And you, his sweet, sweet Y/n.

His heart clenched at the thought of you. You were only two years old at the time of the accident. The day your mother decided she had had enough of Tig and the life he came with and that she needed to run.

It was that day, when your mother pulled out of Charming and never looked back. She only made it two towns over before she took a reckless turn right off an overpass into oncoming traffic.

Tig could remember the look on Unser's face as he approached the older man in the TM parking lot like yesterday, and how he wished he could go back and convince your mom not to go. Or to leave you, at least.

Unser had just began working with the club back then, and this case in particular had always stuck with him. A woman trying to escape her outlaw husband with their baby daughter who ends up getting into a horrific accident that ends up killing them both? One of the saddest stories Unser had ever heard.

Except for the fact none of it was true.

Because there you stood, alive and well, right in front of the Chief's desk.

"I know it sounds crazy," you shake your head, hopeful look on your face. "I wouldn't believe it either, actually. And I don't really have any proof other than my memories, but I'm sure it's him."

The aging polaroid in you had provided him of a much younger Tig and a woman he recognizes to be your mother back when she was pregnant with you.

"No, no," he waves your worries away. "I believe you. In fact, I remember your mother, vaguely, and you look a lot like her."

You grimace. "Yeah, I've been told a few times. So do you know where I can find Alexander?"

Chief Unser pulls a pen from his shirt pocket and begins writing on a slip of paper on his desk. "This is the address of the Teller-Morrow, the automotive shop your dad works at. I would take you there myself, but I'm swamped here."

"Oh, it's no issue," you shrug and take the slip of paper. "I can get there myself. Thank you for everything, though."

You turn and begin to leave when Unser calls for you to stop.

"I forgot to mention, your dad goes by 'Tig.'"

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧ ✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

Juice stretched out his arms and popped his neck while he wiped his hands with a rag. Two weeks of waiting for one part was finally over, and he could get this damn Taurus out of the shop. He tossed the rag into his toolbox when a sleek black car comes rumbling into the lot.

He leaves the garage to get a closer look and notices the car is actually a classic, a well taken care of (or well restored) '69 Chevy. While he admires the car he notices you, too.

Your hair is partly clipped back, with enough loose enough to frame your face in a casual look. You're pretty, and admittedly he'd be more distracted by you but Juice can tell by the look on your face you're nervous. Juice would know, it's a look he's had to learn to hide.

By sight and sound nothing seemed to be wrong with your car, and Juice can't help but wonder why you're here.

You shut the engine off and exit your vehicle, all the while silently composing yourself. Heart thudding in your chest, you wonder if you're doing the right thing.

Juice takes the moment you shut the door to approach further.

"Hello," he greets politely, friendly smile on his face. "I'm Juice, and I'll be taking care of you today. What seems to be the problem?"

"Oh, no," you shake your head and laugh nervously. "Nothing's wrong with her. I'm actually-"

You pause, close your eyes for a second and bite the inside of your bottom lip. Juice can't help but watch you fondly, finding you oddly adorable.

Finally you open your eyes and flash a bright, genuine smile.

Damn, I'm made, he thinks.

"This is gonna sound completely insane," you explain, nervously clasping your hands together. "But, um, I'm looking for Alexa- well, no, Tig, Tig Trager."

Juice raises his brows. "Tig? Uh, I don't know if now's the best time."

It's true, he's currently in Oakland with Jax and Chibs on quick business.

"Look, I know it's inconvenient and you don't know me," you plead. You're closer now and Juice can smell your sweet perfume and practically feel your hopefulness. "But until a couple months ago I had no idea my dad was even alive. And then I found out I was here for weeks before realizing he's here, too."

Your dad? There has to be a story there. Juice raises his hands to either side of your arms, holding you still in hopes to assure you.

"It's okay," he says sternly, but in an endearing way. "Tig's not here right now but he should be soon, so let's head on inside and you can tell me a little bit about you. Just to be sure, no offense."

You smile, relieved to be believed to some extent rather than none. "Thank you, Juice. Thank you."

Juice leads you into the Teller-Morrow through the garage entrance into the larger building. From what you could see on the outside you wouldn't have imagined such a spacious clubhouse inside.

Inside were several pool tables, a couch with mini pieces about, a bar with stools, and other tables each with their own set of chairs. Decorations littered the walls and floors and you laughed to yourself as you noted a nearly full ashtray on almost every surface and a wall completely dedicated to mugshots.

Juice leads you to the bar where he gestures for you to sit as he makes his way around. You slip onto a stool and watch patiently as Juice finds two glasses and turns to you.

"What's your preference?"

You shrug, "Whatever, I'm not partial. On the rocks, though."

He serves you and pours his own drink before setting the bottle down and leaning on the bar on his elbows in front of you.

"So tell me about you," Juice presses softly. He can tell by your fingers circling the rim of your glass that you're not excited for this conversation but he has no choice. "You said you've been here for a few weeks, where'd you live before?"

"Nevada, mostly," you tell him before sipping on your drink. "My mother moved us around a couple times and we lived in Colorado for a while before eventually settling in Sparks."

"Why'd you guys move around?"

You drain the rest of your drink quickly in hopes it'll support you through this conversation. Juice begins to refill your glass without being asked.

"I didn't know it then, but my mom was running from the Sons," you confess.

Juice's eyes widen slightly as he looked you over. What could you know about the club? They were notorious around Charming sure, but with their recent run ins with the ATF has the club struggling and making choices they wouldn't normally make.

You continue, "It wasn't until I graduated high school and I left that she told me my dad was actually alive. Then she told me about the Sons of Anarchy, and everything else I did on my own."

Juice nods, unsure of what to say. He nurses his drink for a moment before reaching for your hand.

"This life is complicated, but we're a family here."

The gesture, simple as it is, riles up all the pent up feelings you've mastered all your life comes rushing forward as tears brim your eyes.

"Family," you repeat and pull your hand from Juice to wipe your tears. "What a weird concept?"

The two of you talk well into the evening and you end up migrating to the couch with a bottle and a large bowl of buttery popcorn. Juice made good company. He's genuine, gunny, and from the way he talks you can tell the Sons are something special to him.

He tells you about himself in turn for the vulnerable information you've given him. You learn he was born and raised in New York before coming to Charming, and he has a little sister behind in the city. Juice tells you he works in the TM garage alongside what he does for the club.

"I'm not stupid," you tell him once you notice his hesitance. "It's not hard to find information on the club from the locals around here."

He chuckles softly, "Yeah, I'm sure. If you have any questions, you can ask me."

Before you can the rumbling of bikes coming into the TM parking lot distracts you. Instinctively you grabbed Juice's hand, but let go just as fast as you'd grabbed him. Luckily before he can say anything the door bursts open and income more Sons.

The first is a younger blond man with piercing blue eyes and you notice the President patch on his left. He greets Juice happily before his eyes look to you, and he looks confused but seemingly brushes it off and goes to the bar.

Your dad walks in near arm in arm with another handsome man with scarred cheeks, obviously older than he is in the polaroid you own, but otherwise he seems the same. Its as if he can feel your gaze as he turns to meet his blue eyes to your own.

You stand, trying to ignore the thumping of your heart in your chest. "Hi, Tig," you greet, silently cursing the waver in your voice. Immediately the polaroid is out of your back pocket and in your hand. "My name's Y/n, and my mom's Y/m/n."

He takes the polaroid from you without a word and holds it carefully in his hands. His friend has stepped away towards Juice, likely for questioning.

"I saw Unser earlier today," you continue on. "He told me that I have a grave here in Charming, so does mom. Funny, considering she always told me you were the dead one."

You take a shaky breath in, trying to keep from bursting into tears. "I just... I wanted you to know I'm not dead, very much alive. I don't, like, expect anything from you I just knew I had to say something."

Tig finally breaks away from the polaroid to meet your eyes again, and it makes you feel a bit better to see his blue eyes are as tear filled as your own.

He raises one hand to cup your cheek, thumb moving to wipe your tears. "Losing you was the worst pain of my life," he admits softly.

His words crumble your resolve, the walls you'd spent your adolescence building to protect yourself fell faster than they were constructed. You practically fall into his arms, and the two of you break down as you hold each other.

As you sob into Tig's chest he merely cradles you the way he wishes he'd been able to all these years. The way he deserved to have been there for you. He holds you tight against him like he's afraid you'll dissipate and it'll be decades before he sees you again.

"We're gonna be okay, baby," he tells you. "We're gonna be okay."

This time, he's not going to be letting you go so easy.

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someprettyname · 7 months ago

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Prince kaiser thoughts pt. 1

Find more of this AU here.

Imagine being assigned as the new servant to Prince Kaiser, and even at the first sight your unnatural beauty doesn't go unnoticed by him. Maids and servants aren't usually so eye catching?! Something about your smooth skin, high cheekbones and sharp jaws.....it's different. What's also different is the way you carry yourself.

So, him being the unhinged spoilt prince he is, he starts throwing himself at you. He doesn't care you are a maid, or someone of the "low birth". He is intrigued. And even more so when you politely resist him. He's more intrigued by the fact that his beauty doesn't appeal to you enough for you to fawn over him and immediately submit, all wooed (this bitch of an egoistic asshole) like any other women he'd met, than be angry at your audacity to turn down the crown prince.

Huh.

So he starts getting more and more assertive with you, until one day your blood boils to a temperature where you're fighting back and giving him a strong kick, sending him skidding away.

Little does he know you were sold off after the war. And your pride was too big. You'd rather die than get assaulted. Little does he know you used to be the daughter of the chief commander of army of the previous royal family, which means you're nothing short of a princess yourself.

#Grawwwwwwww clawing at the bar I love this idea so muchhhhhh yooooooo #blue lock #bllk #michael kaiser #michael kaiser x reader #michael kaiser x you #michael kaiser x y/n #kaiser x reader #kaiser x you #kaiser x y/n #kaiser michael #bllk x reader #blue lock x reader #masterlist #Shitpost #fic : Michael Kaiser #Prince kaiser

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ao3cassandraic · 1 year ago

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Saraqael, Heaven's Only Competent Angel

Season 2 got terrifically lucky with Liz Carr. Fantastic casting choice for a decidedly intriguing angel.

Saraqael strikes me as a Chief Operating Officer type. Judging from the colors of her lapels and Muriel's ascotty thing, Muriel is in her chain of command (near or at the bottom, naturally). Those colors also suggest that Saraqael, archangel or no, is a step down from Michael and Uriel. The big archangels don't wear plaids.

When Muriel goes to Saraqael with the matchbox, she makes a quick (and bureaucratically correct) decision to bring it to Michael and Uriel. She approaches them politely, with the correct form of address even, but fearlessly and without undue fawning. Good for her.

While Michael and Uriel are being completely and utterly useless, Saraqael heads over to the Realtime Big Globe and starts searching, zeroing in on the miracle plume quickly. So she's upper management, but she hasn't lost all ability to do hands-on OSINT. Intriguing.

Saraqael stops the standoff at Aziraphale's bookshop door with a firm but polite "Shall we discuss this inside?" She's also the one with the measurement of miracle strength, which fits a manager who still keeps her hand in. Otherwise, she observes -- and unlike Michael and Uriel, she doesn't give away anything. (Lord, Michael. "Did we [mention we were looking for Gabriel]?" It was the first thing Uriel said! Y'all get your good-cop-bad-cop story straight beforehand next time.)

And it's competent-ops Saraqael who decides on action: sending Muriel down for miracle verification and keeping a close eye on Aziraphale. Aziraphale calls this "very professional of you," and he's not wrong, considering Heaven's twisted, surveillance-laced notions of professionalism. Saraqael does her job.

Somebody definitely needed to coach Muriel better about fitting in on Earth, but I'm willing to forgive Saraqael that one; it's probably not her job to do that, but Muriel's line manager's job. Muriel's 37th-level -- I have to assume there's a line manager or two (or twelve) between them and Saraqael. Plus, of course, all the angels (except Aziraphale, possibly Sandalphon, and the Metatron) are ruinously terrible at Earthing -- s2 continues the s1 throughline of the archangels being seen on Earth only rarely and briefly.

Another moment of Michael's utter uselessness, incidentally -- in the Job minisode, when she archangelsplains the meaning of "Shuhite" our timorous Aziraphale actually rolls his eyes, and Gabriel quiets her with one hand. She's actually right to be suspicious (this happens often in s2), just terrible at actually communicating her suspicions such that anyone else will take action on them.

(I actually have considerable sympathy for Michael here. I have also 'splained a mighty 'splain professionally in my time, and had many eyes rolled at me. Michael's right. So was I. But so it goes. Knowledge without adroit communication isn't worth much.)

Saraqael recognizes Crowley in his bee!demon disguise immediately (unlike Michael and Uriel, again), but notice that she doesn't raise any alarms and she doesn't even bother punishing Muriel. (I am a bit sorry she doesn't get to take a crack at his horrific garb. Missed opportunity there.) With the Metatron's find-Gabriel mandate still in place, she lets the situation run to see if Crowley will get her closer to finding Gabriel -- which, in fact, he does! So she knows when not to act hastily, too.

In the meeting about the Second Coming, and at Gabriel's trial, Saraqael again observes but mostly holds her peace. Her opsness comes to the fore again when they decide to mindwipe Gabriel; she's the one to set it in motion via her glass phone, and she's the one to report that he can't be found. As ops, though, she doesn't unilaterally decide what to do -- she asks.

(And the Metatron, extremely punchable boss that he is, throws the worst and least accurate possible insult at her! Look, I'm not expert at British English or anything, but "wet" seems to mean "whingy halfhearted coward," and that is so not Saraqael! Ugh, if Gabriel learned management from the Metatron, no wonder he's such a horror in s1.)

So we're set up very well for the angels-and-demons bookshop scene. Does Saraqael act swiftly when told to? Yep -- if not for Crowley, Maggie and Nina would be table seasonings.

Does Saraqael observe, and draw correct conclusions? I think so. Because I'm on the side of things that thinks she rumbled the human-guise Metatron well before Crowley gave the game away to Aziraphale, yet said nothing. Very intriguing.

Here's where I'm going with all this. Two points, actually:

Point one: Maybe it wasn't the Metatron who mindwiped Crowley, since that's a thing that sure seems to have happened. (That would leave human-Enoch-becomes-the-Metatron theories intact.) Maybe it was Saraqael. Who worked with Crowley on the Horsehead Nebula, and might well have heard him asking dangerous questions. Whose job mindwiping apparently is. I'm not wedded to this theory, but gosh, it sure is interesting.

Point two: Organizations can shamble along like zombies with consistently crappy ops (a lot of us have probably worked for such; I sure have). An organization that had competent ops but suddenly loses it, however, is boned, humped, screwed, at least temporarily and quite possibly permanently.

If I were Aziraphale, wanting to ruin the Metatron and wreck Heaven's whole deal, the very first angel I'd want to subvert, recruit, or -- and I hope this doesn't happen but I'm not ruling it out, because if I'm right about what Saraqael did to Crowley, Aziraphale's gonna go postal when he finds out -- destroy, would be Saraqael.

#gos2spoilers #gos2 spoilers #good omens season 2 spoilers #good omens #good omens meta #saraqael #crowley #aziraphale #the fucking metatron #michael #uriel #the heaven non-brain trust

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stevesbipanic · 11 months ago

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@steddiemas Day 26: Fake Dating

Steve was ready for Hawkins to open up again and for the Upside Down to swallow him whole. Christmas was meant to be fun, well at least it was supposed to be fun now that he spent it with the Buckley's. Right now though he was glaring at his boyfriend and best friend across the table. Or wait not his boyfriend this evening, no tonight, Eddie was Robin's boyfriend.

Steve could only blame himself he supposed, one for loving the two idiots that were currently badly suppressing giggles and two because it was all because of what he'd said last week.

One week earlier...

"Robin, just tell your mom you're a lesbian or I'm not coming to Christmas lunch next week."

"Steve I can't do that do you want to ruin Christmas!?"

"She was already fine with me being bisexual she's not going to send you to hell, that's why we tested her with me in the first place!"

"No, I'm not ready!"

"Well I can't sit through another Christmas of your mom suggesting a Spring wedding!"

"You're my boy space friend can't we just let her live in a fantasy world where she marries into the Harrington's?"

"I don't even want to be one!"

"Could pop down to the courthouse and become a Munson, baby," Eddie supplied watching the back and forth while blatantly stealing from the candy display.

Steve gave him a deadpan look, "You need to propose to me better than that, Eds. No, Robin that's it I'm not going, I'm not being your boyfriend anymore!"

"What am I meant to do then, she'll be asking about you all day!"

"I'll do it!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Do what?" The other two asked giving him a questioning look.

"No, stop I hate when you do that twin thing it's creepy. And I'll be your boyfriend for Christmas, Birdie."

Which brought Steve to now. It had seemed like a brilliant idea, one Steve could enjoy his Christmas lunch peacefully being the golden boy of the table as Mrs Buckley dawned over him and two, no boyfriend questions. There was also the added bonus that lesbianism might seem like a better option than the town's drug dealer in the Buckley's minds. What Steve hadn't counted on, was the Buckley's loving Eddie.

"Oh, you're in a band that's so lovely, you know I played tamborine for a band back when I was your age, we thought we were going to be a big girl group."

"I hear you're working over at Thatcher's son, they're good men there you're certainly going to learn a lot."

Steve had been relegated to peeling the potatoes while Eddie was literally putting his feet up in the living room. He felt like the middle child of a family that just got a newborn baby, how dare Eddie steal his pseudo parents. What was worse was that Robin was finding this hilarious.

"Oh poor Stevie Wevie are you sad mom's not asking about how EMT school is going?"

"Yes! I had such a fun fake heart attack story she was gonna love." Steve pouted and for a moment he thought about stomping his foot in protest.

"Hey, it's ok, next year I promise I'll have told them, and Edward over there can come as your boyfriend, ok?" Robin reassured wrapping an arm around him.

Steve guessed that he could give up being the favourite this time, and it was nice seeing people be kind to Eddie, it hadn't been easy after Spring Break. It didn't stop him shooting daggers whenever Eddie and Robin decided to reassure Steve at lunch that he'd find someone nice eventually.

Steve and Eddie waved goodbye after lunch, promising to visit soon and hopped into the van.

"Have fun?"

"Oh yeah, I think Janice is already planning the Spring wedding."

"Well, I hope you enjoyed getting fawned over because we've got dinner with Wayne now, and guess who's his favourite?"

"Just because you know the difference between the Chiefs and the Packers, I'm his own blood and the minute you're there it's like I'm chopped liver!" Eddie exclaimed as they drove towards the trailer park.

Lunch had been interesting but he was very glad it was over as he laughed and slid his fingers between Eddie's between them, happy that he had his boyfriend back.

Ao3

#steddie fake dating was too easy hahahaha #Stobin #steddie #eddie and robin are soulmates in law #stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #steddiemas #ficlet #fake dating

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earthshine-moon · 2 months ago

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The Fëanorians’ names

I’ve been thinking about this a lot recently and I wanted all of their names and etymologies in one place so I thought I’d share it ❤️

Feel free to let me know in the notes if I’ve missed any or gotten anything wrong

Maedhros

The Tall (sobriquet)

Nelyafinwë (fn, Quenya) - ‘third Finwë’

Nelyo (s fn, Q) - ‘third’

Maitimo (mn, Q) - ‘well-shaped one’

Russandol (epessë, Q) - ‘copper-top’ (from russa - ‘red-haired’). Given by his brothers due to his red hair. He also wore a copper circlet

Maedhros (Sindarin) - from maed - ‘shapely’ and ross - ‘red-haired’. Derived from Maitimo and Russandol

Maedros (S) - proper spelling of Maedhros due to the etymology

Maidhros/Maedhros (Noldorin) - ‘pale-glitter’ (from maidh - ‘pale’ / ‘fallow’ / ‘fawn’ and rhoss - ‘flash’ / ‘glitter of metal’)

Maglor

The Minstrel (s)

Kanafinwë (fn, Q) - ‘strong-voiced Finwë’

Kano (s fn, Q) - ‘commander’ / ‘crier’ / ‘herald’

Macalaurë (mn, Q) - ‘forging gold’ / ‘gold-cleaver’. Prophetic reference to his harping skill with laurë being poetic and not referring to the metal

Maglor (S) - ‘forging gold’ (from Macalaurë)

Magalor (pure S rendition) - presumably ‘forging gold’ (from Macalaurë)

Maglor (N) - ‘gold-cleaver’ (from Macalaurë)

Celegorm

The Fair (s)

Turcafinwë (fn, Q) - ‘strong, powerful (in body) Finwë’

Turco (s fn, Q) - ‘strong, powerful (in body)’ / ‘chief’

Tyelcormo (mn, Q) - ‘hasty-riser’. Reference to his quick temper and habit of standing up when angry (from tyelka - ‘hasty’ and (I think) ormë - ‘haste’ / ‘violence’ / ‘rushing’)

Celegorm (S) - ‘hasty riser’ (from Tyelcormo). North Sindarin as it keeps the m

Celegorn (N) - presumably ‘swift-impetuous’

Celecormë (Q) - early form of Quenya version of Celegorm. Relating to Oromë

Caranthir

The Dark (s)

Morifinwë (fn, Q) - ‘dark Finwë’. Referring to his black hair inherited from Finwë

Moryo (s fn, Q) - from morë - ‘black’ / ‘dark’ / ‘darkness’

Carnistir (mn, Q) - ‘red-face’. Referring to his ruddy complexion inherited from Nerdanel

Caranthir (S) - ‘red-face’ (from Carnistir)

Cranthir / Cranthor (N) - ‘perfect’

Curufin

The Crafty (s)

Curufinwë (fn, Q) - ‘skilful Finwë’. Fëanor’s father-name. Given because Curufin was his father’s favourite and most like him in looks and mind

Curvo (s fn, Q) - ‘skill’ (from curu)

Atarincë (mn, Q) - ‘little father’. Referring to his resemblance to his father in both looks and mind

Curufin (S) - from curu - ‘skill’ and fin - Sindinarised Finwë

Cyrefinn Facensearo (Old English) - translation of his name in The Earliest Annals of Valinor. Defined as cyre - ‘choice’, facen - ‘deceit, guile, wickedness’, searu - ‘skill, cunning’, facensearu - ‘treachery’

For reference: Amrod is noted as the older twin for most of the legendarium. Inverted in a later story when Tolkien was working out the etymology of their names when he also changed Amrod’s fate

Amrod

huntan (s) - ‘the hunters’. Collectively known as in The Earliest Annals of Valinor

Pityafinwë (fn, Q) - ‘little Finwë’. Name of the older twin

Pityo (s fn, Q) - ‘little’ (from pitya)

Ambarto (mn, Q) - amba - ‘up’ / ‘upwards’ / ‘top’ and arata - ‘high’ / ‘noble’ / ‘exalted’ / ‘lofty’ / ‘excellent’

Minyarussa (Q) - ‘first-russa’. Called by others

Ambarussa (Q) - ‘top-russet’. Name they called each other

Umbarto (Q) - ‘fated’ (masculinised form of umbar - ‘fate’. In the 12th volume of The History of Middle-earth, it was given by Nerdanel after Fëanor begged for their names to be different. He changed it to Ambarto and gave it to the youngest twin. Used by no one

Damrod (Q) - Noldorin translation of the Qenya name Nambarauto (from namba - ‘to hammer’ and rauta - ‘metal’). Used in earlier Silmarillion material

Déormód (OE) - ‘brave-hearted’. Translation of Damrod

Amras

huntan (s) - ‘the hunters’. Collectively known as in The Earliest Annals of Valinor

Telufinwë (fn, Q) - ‘last Finwë’. Name of the younger twin

Telvo (s fn, Q) - ‘last’ / ‘final’ (from telda)

Ambarussa (mn, Q) - ‘top-russet’. Also the name they called each other

Atyarussa (Q) - ‘second-russa’. Called by others

Diriel (Exilic Noldorin) - derived from the Old Noldorin name Dirghel (from dîr - ‘adult male’ (of any race) and gel - ‘joy’ / ‘shout’ / ‘triumph’)

Maithog / Mailweg - possible initial names for Amras before written over with either Dinithel or Durithel

Tirgeld (OE) - from tîr - ‘glory’ and geld - ‘gild’ (in names meaning ‘of worth’)

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kasagia · 2 years ago

Text

I'll be back for you pt. 2 (end)

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/General Kirigan/The Darkling x reader, Kaz Brekker x reader Summary: The battle is still going on. Not only the one between Alina and the Darkling but also the one inside you. Which side will you choose to be on? Who will you support? The choice is only yours. Warning(s): Darkling, angst, quarrels, fighting, bl00d, the reader is having a hard time and doesn't know what to do and who to choose, but we all love these two guys Word count: It depends, but 13k+ in total Taglist: @woowwwee @aemondsb1tch @queenofspades6 @unofficial-jaytodd-wife @kentucky-criedfricken

"Moya soverennyia?" Fedyor's voice snapped you out of your thoughts. You turned to Heartrender, giving him a gentle smile and telling him to continue.

Over the course of this month, you've already gotten used to your new role, announced by the Darkling to his Oprichniks and Grishas.

His partner. His heart. His moon. The new Soverennyia.

So far, Aleksander has kept his promise to make you his equal. But you've been waiting patiently for the day when keeping you on an equal footing with himself will not be in line with his plans.

And you didn't know whether to be glad or disappointed that he was serious about keeping that promise.

"Y/N? Shall we go?" you looked up at the man, remembering what he had come for. Kirigan asked for you.

"Yes. Thank you, Fedyor." you nodded as you walked out with him by your side. You smiled as soon as the man started babbling about the latest gossip from the camp. You appreciated that he was trying to make your trip pleasant by at least trying to strike up a normal, casual conversation with you.

Another thing you had to get used to. If there wasn't an unsettling Darkling figure hovering by your side, it would be either Ivan or Fedyor. Kirigan insisted that their presence around you was necessary to keep you safe.

Like you weren't a powerful moon summoner.

The Darkling's "care" didn't blind you. He was afraid that you would run away again, that despite everything—all those tender words and promises whispered into his skin under the cover of the night—you were not fully devoted to him. That even though you were with him in body and mind, you left your heart with a group of your "crows".

And he was right.

But you weren't willing to give him any evidence.

"Sankta Y/N!" the guard at Aleksander's tent of council announced your arrival, interrupting all conversations between the general and his chief commanders.

"Come here, moonlight." the Darkling has summoned you without even lifting a glance from the papers. You took the only empty seat right next to him and glanced at the maps spread out in front of him. "Ivan and his men have been on the trail of the firebird for weeks and finally found something interesting… I thought you'd like to know more about your future amplifire." he whispered in your ear as the conversation around you resumed.

You nodded your head, turning your gaze to the man closest to him. You smiled as you saw Fedyor (trying to) fawn over him imperceptibly. Maybe you and Ivan didn't get along very well, and your relationship with Fedyor deteriorated after your "betrayal", but you'd have to be blind and insensitive not to notice and appreciate the bond between them. You couldn't help your stupid heart long for something they had.

"Something wrong, zyoma maya olya (moon of my life)?"

"Last week was a bit tiring, that's all. Your mother can be a pain in the ass." you mumbled, taking his hand. You unknowingly began to draw patterns on the skin of his hand with your finger, making him feel better. Something that didn't go unnoticed among the Grishas present in the tent.

It turned out you weren't the only one left behind. Aleksander caught Baghra.

From the old woman's story, it seemed as if all he cared about was keeping the two of you captive. Thanks to the saints, no other crow caught his special attention. Except Kaz...

"I'll repay you for taking care of her, milaya. In a month, no one and nothing will get on your nerves, moya tsaritsa."

"Hold on to the titles. Ravka is not at your feet yet."

"It will be. As soon as we enlarge the fold, the whole world will be at OUR feet. And then we'll make sure that no Grishas are afraid or ashamed of who they are ever again."

You wanted to believe him. Really. That he cares only for the good of people like you, but you already knew him too well to allow yourself to be that naive.

"I dream of nothing more, Aleksander." you whispered, making sure only he could hear his real name. He smiled, cupping your cheek with his hand and placing a tender kiss on your forehead.

"What will we do with the rebels, moi soverennyi?" one of his Grishas caught your attention. Your heart beat slightly faster at the mention of your friends. Another trick you had to pick up pretty quickly with so many heartrenders by your side. You silently thanked Nina every time you used her trick to calm your heartbeat. Only thanks to her, no one has yet received any clues or evidence that you can play the role of a double agent. "Or deserters? They should not have the honour of seeing Ravka get greater after years of oppression."

"The courts will judge them. We will not deal with such unimportant things; as soon as we secure our country from hostile neighbours, we will deal with internal changes. We'll make sure the Grisha are safe on their own land. There will be time for everything else later."

The courts... when Aleksander's plans come true, he will become a tsar. Establisher of new laws. Guardian of peace and justice. He will judge his enemies. You couldn't let any of your friends stand in front of him then. Or better, to prevent Aleksander IV/The Darkling from reigning at all.

"The sooner we get there, the better. What do you think, moonlight?"

"The people are tired, and our horses are too. I don't think a day's delay will do us any harm. Everyone will have enough time to gain strength and prepare for the firebird hunt or other tasks."

"With all due respect, moi soverenyi, Lady Y/N is right. The mood in the camp is not good; people could use a little respite."

"Then it will be as my moon said. Tell our people to get ready for tomorrow. You can get some rest yourselves. You all are free." Aleksander released them, shocking both his men and you with how easily he changed his mind.

He put his hand on your thigh, stopping you from leaving the tent with his soldiers. It wasn't until the last Grisha was out of your sight that he turned completely towards you.

"Are you sure everything's okay? You've been acting weird lately." he asked, examining your face carefully. You really wish Genya was here… she'd be better at concealing your dark circles than face powder.

"Weird? No I... I just trying to fit into a new role. I have to admit that it's very hard to be you." he chuckled, moving your chair closer to him so you could lean against his side. He ran one hand through your hair and wrapped the other around your waist to feel you against him.

"I don't know what you do or how you charm everyone around you, but you don't have to try very hard to earn their respect. They already value your decisions and adore you. They even call you a Sankta. It's so much more than I'll ever be."

"Should I call you Sankt Aleksander, then?" you asked, raising an eyebrow with a teasing smirk on your face, to which he just snorted in amusement. If you were a heartrender, you would know how his heart beat faster as soon as he saw that smile on your face.

"As long as I have my own star shining for me, I can stay known as The Saint With No Stars." he said, kissing your cheek and resting his forehead against the side of your head. You sat like that for a while, enjoying the hug and each other's presence.

It wasn't just your people who were tired. You two, too, have felt the burden of the past few weeks acutely. The search for amplifiers, the fights between Aleksander and Alina, your secret help to the crows, performing in front of an audience, recruiting new Grishas—Aleksander's entire war campaign took its toll on him as well as on you.

And while you wanted to curse yourself for seeking solace in the arms of the man who made you go through all of this, you just couldn't (and didn't want to) deprive yourself of his comforting presence. Ironic, right? To find peace and safety in the arms of someone you should hate with all your heart.

"You're not alone, my little saint. You can tell me everything that bothers you. You don't have to deal with your thoughts by yourself." he whispered into your hair, holding you tighter.

He wasn't Kaz. If he had heard even a speck of your doubts, he would have increased his guard around you and watched you more than before. He couldn't know what was in your head, what tormented you day and night, or the moral struggle within you. That you felt something for both of them at the same time. And that even if you tried so hard for the last few weeks, you couldn't sort out your feelings.

"It goes both ways, Aleksander." you mumbled, pulling away from him so you could cup his cheek with your hand.

You ran your finger across one of his black scars. He narrowed his eyes as soon as he felt your soft skin on his scar. You knew he hated them. That he despised any reminder of what had happened in the fold. About how his volcra played with him. For a moment, you thought he would drop the idea of extending the fold after this. However, in some strange way, his encounter with the volcras only strengthened that desire.

You planted a small, tender kiss on one of the particularly large scars—the one running down the centre of his face. Aleksander sighed tremblingly.

"Using merzost and summoning nichevo'ya only makes them worse. You do not have to do that. You don't have to destroy yourself from within to fight this war."

"I'm not weak. I know my limits, Y/N."

"I never doubted it, Aleksander." you ran your hand through his hair, calming his anger. You've probably both been surprised at how easily you can change his mood every time you do it. "You are hundreds of years old, more experienced in your power than any Grisha on this earth. That doesn't mean that you'll listen to your limits or that you won't push yourself beyond your safe border. You know what I'm worrying about all the time? You. Whenever you use this."

"Don't bother yourself with it. I'll always be back for you. No matter how many nichevo'ya I summon or how much merzost I use. Nothing can keep me away from you."

You didn't answer anything. Instead, you moved to his lap and caught his lips in a tender kiss.

It was your safe answer to each of his gentle declarations of love. He would never refuse your kiss; the feeling of your soft, warm lips on his was like nothing else he had known or felt in hundreds of years. Unfortunately for you, he wasn't the only one whose heart beat faster the moment your lips met.

And even though neither of you trusted each other, you enjoyed that little sweet moment between you two. After all, everyone needs someone close to them.

Even an enemy company was still better than none. But could you still call Aleksander your enemy?

~•♤♤♤•~

You had to admit that even though you were "on Darkling's team," not much had really changed in your life. For example, for balance, instead of dreaming about Aleksander, you dreamed about Kaz… and you didn't know which of those dreams were worse.

On nights like this, when you lay by Kirigan's side (which was rare considering how much of a workaholic he was), you weren't afraid that he'd accidentally hear you whisper Brekker's name. Even the shadow lord had to rest sometime, and when he did, he usually slept soundly.

That's why you fell asleep peacefully, wondering if your mind would give you at least a moment of peace and let you enjoy a blissful, unconscious sleep.

You groaned as an unimaginable amount of light hit your eyes. You rubbed your eyes and turned on your other side to hide your face on the shoulder of the man next to you. A very familiar and rare giggle made you open your eyes immediately.

"Kaz?"

"Finally. I thought I wouldn't wake you up until noon. And believe me, I've tried many things. Even the trumpets." he was surprisingly in good spirits, and the mere fact that he didn't flinch from embracing you while you were lying on the same bed under the same duvet told you it was just a dream again.

A real Kaz would never do something like that.

No matter how much you want it.

"You obviously didn't try hard enough." you finally choked out, glad to see that familiar amused-annoyed look on his face.

"Well, our little crow couldn't wake you up either."

"Little crow?" you asked, confused, but the man ignored your question. He ripped the covers off you, to your surprised squeal, and tossed them on one of the armchairs.

"I'll take care of her today. You and Jes are on a scouting mission at one of the mansions of those "rich snobs," as you like to call them. And for the saints' sake, Y/N, it's just a scouting mission. Our daughter doesn't have the best role models anyway; it doesn't help that her mother fights all over the place with literally everyone just because she's a powerful moon summoner and thinks she can do anything." he said as he was going through the closet. He threw some clothes at you, laughing when instead of you catching them, you let them hit your face.

You were so shocked that you couldn't make a move.

"Daughter?" your question remains unanswered again.

"Get dressed and go downstairs. Nina is making breakfast. I think you wouldn't want to miss it, Moonstone."

He left the room, leaving you dazed on the bed. What the fuck was going on here? You had a daughter. With Kaz. It really was a twisted dream.

You got dressed anyway and looked around the room. No extraordinary things. Just a bedroom with things that would probably belong to Kaz and you. You sighed as you opened the door. Your room was normal, practically identical to Kaz's, but the hallway looked... homely. Too homely, judging by the toys scattered around and the drawings of crows, Kaz, you, and some little kid. Your child.

Having no idea what might be waiting for you downstairs (apart from Nina making waffles and Kaz), you hesitantly descended the stairs as if they would take you to the heart of a great battle.

And you could partly say you were right.

You made your way to the living room, where everything else looked pretty normal. A few drawings, crayons, and pencils were strewn across the floor (some of the child's masterpieces were intertwined with Kaz's plans), but other than the usual mess, there was nothing out of the ordinary here.

The problem started behind the door leading to the dining room with an open kitchen, from where came children's shouts and laughter.

"Mom!" something small attacked you as you walked into the room, hugging your legs with all its strength so that you almost fell to the floor. "Aunt Inej helped me climb a huge tree! And Uncle Jes, Wylan, and Mat promised me and Lily that they would make us a playhouse on it. And you know what?! Dad taught me a new trick; can I show you?"

The pleading reflection in the eyes, so similar to yours and attached to a little face that was the perfect combination of you and Kaz, left you speechless. You were looking at your daughter. Child of the Moon Summoner and a Bastard from the Barrel.

"After breakfast, little spitfire. Let your mother wake up. Our moon girl doesn't take mornings very well." Jes answered for you as she dragged you to the table where the rest of the crows were sitting. Between him and Wylan sat their own princess, probably the same age as your daughter.

It might be unrealistic for the crows to be sitting in your kitchen eating breakfast before going on their missions, but you had to admit that as strange as it was, the dream was very... enjoyable. Especially when you saw your daughter climb into her father's lap and order him to cut the waffle into smaller pieces.

Even though you could barely make sense of the situation, everything seemed... normal.

As if Inej should always be showing the children tricks with her knives at the table, and Wylan and Jes should be bantering at your table with themselves and their adopted daughter like a good old couple.

As if Nina was always meant to be your cook, laughing at that "Mr. Amazing Hat" should have paid her double for feeding you all while she forced Matthias to help her.

As if Kaz was doomed to watch them all with a little smirk, occasionally giving you a fond look while he entertained your daughter on his lap.

And for a moment, you felt as if you belonged to this world of your invention, as if you had always belonged there.

The crows dispersed (too fast for you), leaving you alone with Kaz and your daughter, who ran upstairs to get ready to spend the day with Uncle Wylan, Lily, and Dad.

And when Kaz took your hand, pulled your chair closer to his, and caught your lips in a soft, sweet "good luck" kiss, you prayed to all the saints you knew to never wake up from this dream.

"Be even a minute late and I'll send half the Dregs after you." you shivered as his ungloved hand caressed your cheek gently.

"Kaz Brekker worried about someone? I can't believe I lived to see that day." he adjusted the ring on your finger—the exact same one he gave you to defend against the Darkling—and planted a kiss on your ring finger.

"I take care of what's mine." you knew from the mischievous twinkle in his eyes that the bastard had something planned… you never thought he'd want to leave you a hickey on the most sensitive spot on your neck. You held your breath, not thinking, as you threaded your hand through his hair, pulling him closer. "Y/N Brekker has not given any feisty answer? I can't believe I lived to see that day."

And just as his hands finally touched the skin of your hot waist, your treacherous mind decided to end this beautiful, unrealistic dream... making you long for this moment and life you'll never have.

~•♤♤♤•~

You hate waking up like this.

When you had to return to this role. To fight emotions that did not make it any easier for you to make an already difficult decision.

Despite your pure, selfish desire to live as a simple crow, partner in crime (and not only) to Kaz Brekker, you've had to face the fact that you ARE a Sankta. Grisha. The world has given you a role you never wanted. But now that Aleksander had acquainted you with all otkazat'sas crimes against your people, you could not stand aside.

You had to finally take a side.

And you had to do it faster than you'd like.

You sighed as you looked around the empty bedroom. You saw a patch of light behind the curtain separating the Darkling's office from your bedroom. Without thinking, you pulled off the warm duvet and walked barefoot all the way to his office.

You stopped at the entrance to his office, watching as he busily worked on some sketches. His shadows hovered obediently around the distracted man, who hadn't even noticed your silent presence.

"You'll work yourself to death someday, making it too easy for your enemies." you accosted him, sending a streak of very bright light onto the papers he was holding.

You slowly walked towards him; the shadows parted on your way to the dark-haired man, who had been staring only at you since you turned his desk into a bedside lamp.

"Only if I'm not blinded by my moonlight first." with a flick of your wrist, your light disappeared, making the glow of the candle flames the only light in the general's "dark office".

"You're slowly turning into a mole, you know that, right?" he chuckled, extending his arm towards you. You walked over to him and leaned against him as he pulled you closer to him with one hand. "What is this?" you asked curiously, taking one of the sketches on his desk.

The man next to you tensed, trying to snatch the paper from your hands. You sat on top of him, reaching your arms high up to prevent him from doing so.

"Milaya..." he grunted a warning, placing his hands on your waist so you wouldn't accidentally fall off his lap.

Once you had a good look at the drawing, you turned in his arms and slid down so that your back was resting against his chest. You turned your head to look at his face. He stared at the drawing, avoiding your questioning gaze.

"Is it a house plan? Why are you drawing something like this?" he gave you a puzzled look, which made you snort in annoyance. "Don't look at me like that. I'll recognise your line anywhere. What is it for?"

He sighed, gently taking the paper from your hands and tossing it on the desk. He stared at her for a moment, unsure of what to say. But as soon as his gaze met yours, he opened up.

"After our conversation today, I thought that being Ravka's queen isn't something you needfully want… that's why I have this alternative."

"And what exactly are you thinking about?"

"Well… we'd have to take the reins of the new country for a while, but later, when things settle down? Someone else may be dealing with the weight of power."

"Wait… you… are you telling me you don't want to be a tsar?" you were shocked. You didn't know if he was playing with you or if he was being completely honest for the first time you'd met him. His words couldn't be trusted, but his eyes... when they looked at you so vulnerable... It was impossible to even think that there were evil intentions behind those eyes.

"As long as I have you? I don't want a throne, a crown, or having to go to those extravagant balls for highborn nobles who are too self-absorbed to take care of their people. And the last thing I want is to see you miserable because of the life you didn't want to."

"Hundreds of years on earth, and all your dreams are limited to living in a little hut with some moon summoner?"

"Lapushka, these are just preliminary plans. I'm not going to build you a little hut. It will be a palace."

And what could you say when a powerful Black Heretic volunteered to leave his established position just to fulfil some of your stupid dreams of a simple, normal life? What could you say when those captivating dark eyes, eyes that have seen more than one battle and cruel death, stared at you with such affection and devotion?

You did what you always did when you didn't know what to say to him.

You gently grabbed his neck and pulled him into a kiss. If he understood that you only did it when he left you speechless, he didn't show it at all. He enjoyed every ounce of your affection.

"Let's go back to bed, Sasha… tomorrow is also a day." you whispered into his mouth as you pulled away.

"Go. I'll be joining you soon."

You nodded, stepping slowly off his lap and forming a small ball of light in your hand, and headed back towards your bedroom.

"Thank you, Y/N." it completely froze you in place. You stood halfway to the "doorway" to your bedroom, completely unsure of what or why he was thanking you for. Someone who should rather curse you instead of being grateful for anything.

"Whatever for?" you asked, turning to face him, glad you managed to keep your voice from shaking.

"For believing in me. That you are one of the few who still stay by me. I wasn't completely honest, zyoma maya olya. Not with you. Not with anyone for many centuries. Despite my half-truths, you still chose to forgive me. To trust me. To be by my side. To help me." he said, walking over to you with his eyes fixed on yours in such a way that you realised those irises would be your undoing. In one way or another. "I just… I've been fighting this war alone for so long…" a red light went on in your head as soon as his hand cupped your cheek.

He was playing with you. He tried again to manipulate and deceive you. Your mind screamed for you to move away from his touch and do anything to break this spell between you. But your foolish heart was deaf to anything other than Aleksander's voice.

And those fucking puppy eyes he was giving you…

"You're not alone, Aleksander. Not anymore."

No matter how much you wanted to deceive yourself and your mind.

No matter how much you fought against his charm.

It was true. You will be with him till the end...

Either stabbing him in the back or being his queen. You weren't sure how it was going to end yet.

And your confused emotions and gullible heart only made it harder to hate the man who kissed you, like nothing in this world but you mattered to him.

~•♤♤♤•~

This time, you weren't plagued by any strange dreams about the future you might have had.

You woke up alone as usual to a tiny ray of sunlight that somehow made its way through the general's black tent. You involuntarily thought about Alina. Baghra told you she was supposed to take control of your little rebel group. You couldn't help but worry about the fate of the sun summoner. She didn't want to be a saint either. But she seemed to accept it better than you did.

"Moya soverennyia?" you sighed as someone's voice pierced through the tent. You really weren't up to it today.

"Yes?" you ask while still basking in the warmth of a bed.

"The general ordered me to tell you that we're leaving in two hours."

"Thank you."

Fortunately, the messenger merely set your breakfast tray down and did not disturb you any more. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, changed clothes, and began flipping through the new letters to both you and the general.

Nothing could have prepared you for a letter from Colonel Rietveld.

With trembling hands, you broke the seal and opened the letter, making sure the envelope was burned in the fireplace as soon as possible. You didn't know how much time you had before Ivan or Fedyor burst in. You had to be quick.

Moya soverenyia,

I hate that name for you so much that it hurts me just to write it down.

Don't worry, I'm not a fool who writes such things at the very beginning of the letter without making sure that only your hands can open it. Despite your firm belief that I have remained that stupid, rash boy, I must say that I am not.

(And you know how much I "hate" proving you wrong.)

I don't know how much time you have to yourself (although I hope HE leaves you much longer compared to the time he is with you. I also believe you realise he doesn't deserve an ounce of your light.) so instead of properly scolding you for saving us and playing hero (lecture you won't miss), I'll get to the point.

We are close. Closer than he realises. That's why you don't have to play martyr, spy, hero, or whatever you're pretending to be now.

We need you with us to end the fold and HIM once and for all.

I need you.

So if you can… come to us. You know where to find me us. Crows always find their way to their nest.

I We are waiting for you, moon girl.

K.B.R.

P.S. I dare you to come back and take what's yours.

I will have you, Kaz Brekker. But only when it's safe for both of us.

"The crows always find their way to the nest… stupidest hint you could have given me, Kazzle."

"Y/N?! Are you ready to go?"

Fedyor's voice snapped you out of your thoughts about Brekker. You threw the letter into the fire, making sure that there was nothing left of it but ashes. Then you took your black-silver kefta and went outside with the heartrender for your first meeting with colonels.

Alina and the crows needed you. Kaz needed you.

If you were to run away, you'd have to do it at night, when Aleksander's guard dogs weren't watching your every step and he himself was sound asleep beside you. You just didn't know if you should do it. Running away would be your ultimate betrayal to Aleksander... betrayal to the other Grisha. Were you ready to fight the people you've become close to over the last few weeks?

All the people inside and outside the tent believed in their Sankta Y/N. That you will widen the fold together with Aleksander. That you will give them peace after years of fear, humiliation, and ridicule. That they would get their own safe piece of land to call home. But is it possible to build a house on the blood, tears, and bones of others?

The meeting dragged on unmercifully, and the mere fact that Aleksander was missing made you suspicious. He did not miss such meetings. Never. Something very important must have happened.

You finished the meeting earlier than planned. Fortunately, no one complained and they obediently left the tent. Fedyor walked you back and left you alone after you lied that you needed to finish packing and that you'd rather do it yourself without anyone's help.

You managed to sneak out of the tent without anyone by your side and go to the tent where Baghra was being held. You had a feeling that Aleksander might have gone there secretly from you. And you were right.

You slipped inside unnoticed and hid behind the tent's multiple layers of curtains, making sure none of them saw you. The shadows circling around the tent only made your task easier.

"Where is your sobachka? She never leaves your side, not if it isn't necessary." you rolled your eyes at the woman's snarky comment. She was lucky you preferred to eavesdrop on them.

"It's nice to see that you're starting to warm up to your future daughter-in-law and are worried about her. Y/N is resting before we left. I guess you understood that this is your last chance to tell me everything you know about a firebird."

"You want to marry her? Does she know about your plans?" she asked, as shocked by his idea as you were.

"No, but thanks, Baghra. At least you're interested in my opinion." you shuddered at the thought of having a woman as your mother-in-law. One of you would definitely not survive this.

"She'll find out at the right time."

"Like about everything else, darling." you thought bitterly. Maybe they were all right. Maybe Aleksander really was a lost cause, not worthy of your time...

"You don't want to learn from your mistakes, do you, boy?" at least you weren't the only one who thought so too. As you could see, Aleksander, however, did not care much about her words, or at least he did not show it.

"What do you mean?" he asked and took a step towards her, getting dangerously close to your hiding place.

"I don't recall Miss Y/L/N appreciating your half-truths lately. Despite what happened, you still repeat your actions. What a pity. But it's good for her. Maybe this time she will be smart enough to see that all you care about is your power and nothing more."

Baghra was right. You three knew it. A pre-Ravka Y/N; a girl before becoming a moon summoner; a thief before being kidnapped from Ketterdam would have fled to the other continent before the Darkling long ago. But you've changed... not exactly for the better.

"Y/N is by my side. She is all that matters now to me. She is the future. She will stay with me till the end. She is the one…"

By my side. I've always seen you by my side.

"Yes, I know she is." she cut him off with her trademark mocking smile. "But WHERE does her loyalty lie, boy?"

It was a very good question. A question you and Aleksander didn't have a sure answer to. You could say that he doubted your loyalty too, judging by the way he tensed slightly under his mother's gaze. But you knew him too well for a moment to have the illusion that he would let Baghra win their duel of words.

"Be careful. You don't really matter anymore. I can find the answer to my question without you. Y/N will help me."

I can only do this with you by my side. As my equal. As a person who thinks like me and can keep up with my plans. As my partner. As the only one I can trust.

"You put so much hope in this girl. What a naive child you became. She doesn't love you and never will love again. Once broken, trust cannot be rebuilt, Aleksander. Whatever beautiful lies she feeds you, they are just empty words. She will leave you. She'll run back straight into her boyfriend's arms right after she stabs you in that black, cold heart."

The silence after her words was painful. For both you and the man. Yes. It could all end like this. It would probably even be best for you - to get away from it all, from him, even before all hell breaks loose with the fold, Grishas and Otkazat'syas in the lead roles.

You could live peacefully. No saints, Grishas, power-hungry people, or your possibly dying just because of what you've become. Only you, Kaz and the crows.

I dare you to come back and take what's yours.

But could you just abandon the Grishas? To leave it all behind, like an unpleasant memory, and cut off from Ravka and her problems forever? Get away from HIM?

I will be back for you, my Y/N. Wherever you are hiding from me.

No. If Baghra was right about anything, it was that Aleksander would not stop chasing you as long as you lived. You were stuck with him. The light of his darkness... unless you eclipse him so much that there will never be any more shadows accompanying the moonlight.

I may not believe in saints, but I believe in you, Y/N. I will always believe in you.

You could have done it. You knew you were capable of this and even greater things. You could kill them both right now if you wanted to. Thanks to the little amplifier Aleksander had already given you, you were much more powerful than any of the shadow summoners.

But could you live without YOUR darkness?

"Tell me where to find the firebird." Aleksander's demand snapped you out of your thoughts. Only now have you noticed that Baghra has somehow gotten out of her shackles, summoning her shadows against her own son.

"It's too late for the firebird, boy."

"Please don't threaten me. It will be the worst for you." he didn't want to fight her. You saw it very clearly in his eyes. And you'd be lying if you said you weren't pleasantly surprised.

"You know that I loved you, Aleksander. I swear I did. But I guess it wasn't enough."

You don't agree with her. She could love him more—enough to wisely outsmart him and set him on the right path. But if she couldn't do it—his own mother— then how big were your chances?

"No, please no! No! Please! No! No!" dread. Something you've never heard in a Darkling's voice or thought he could feel. The sheer fear he showed immediately sparked your action.

You came out of hiding, running inside just in time to get between nichevo'ya and Baghra. A bright white light shot from your hand, blinding everyone in the tent except you. The nichevo'ya moved away from the woman and Aleksander, fleeing from you into a corner.

You glanced at Baghra, making sure she was okay, and ran over to Aleksander, who was kneeling on the floor.

"Y/N?" his low, scared tone of voice made your heart clench with grief. You knelt next to him, wrapping your arms around him tightly and rocking him back and forth.

"It's okay, Sasha. Nothing happened, everyone is fine."

"I… I didn't mean it. I swear. I…" he stuttered through his tears as the effects of summoning nichevo'ya took their toll on him.

"Shh, I know. Everything's all right, just give me a second, Sasha." Aleksander hugged you tighter, to Baghra's snort, which you shot a stern look at. Surprisingly, the woman looked away from you, wincing slightly. You were shocked that she left this tender, almost defenceless gesture of her son without comment. You glanced at her reddened neck from the grip of the shadows. Nichevo'ya must have hurt her badly to show signs of pain. Someone had to take her away and heal her. But you couldn't just leave him like that. "It's okay. I'll stay with you, Aleksander. I am not going anywhere." you whispered, placing a soft, tender kiss on his temple, back to making him sure he's safe. "Ivan!"

You've never been so grateful for the presence of a man hovering over you all the time. From your one glance, Ivan knew what to do next without hesitating for a moment: enter the tent full of shadows and lead Baghra out.

Now all you had to do was deal with the trembling Darkling in your arms, who seemed to cling to you like a child to a teddy bear after a nightmare.

"It's okay. They can't hurt anyone. I made sure they did not come any closer. You're safe, Sasha." you continued to whisper, stroking his back.

After a few minutes of listening to your comforting voice and heartbeat, it calmed him down enough for him to stop clinging desperately to you. He had you on his lap, running his hands over your body - making sure his shadows didn't hurt you.

You knelt like that for a while, looking into each other's eyes in silence. And for a moment, very brief and fleeting, you felt blissful, utter peace, completely forgetting about the cares waiting for you behind the tent curtain.

About people waiting for further commands from their soverenyias.

About the fact that holding you man was a terrible liar.

Love is for madmen, Y/N.

"How much of that have you heard?"

"Enough to know that you can't control them. None of them."

"I can… but only for a while." he murmured, still looking into your eyes and cupping your cheek. It took you a moment to realise what his words meant.

Your light was gone. And the Nichevo'ya themselves returned to him. Which should be impossible, considering you attacked them moments earlier. They should want to kill you. Just like Baghra.

And then the truth hit you.

Aleksander wasn't lying when he told you that you were his anchor. Only with you near him could he fully control his new power.

You didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"Aleksander..." you chose to whisper his name tenderly and pull him into a kiss to calm both his maddening heart and your tangled thoughts.

You may have just saved Baghra, but will you be able to repeat your feat for someone else? Will Aleksander's shadows listen to him again and refrain from attacking you?

If Darkling had no control over them, why was he so desperate to enlarge the fold - to inflict even more pain on himself? Did he want to get rid of them this way - by exploiting most of his power? Or maybe he knew that his end was near anyway, and enlarging the fold was meant to be the culmination of his whole life? Maybe that's why he was so willing to give up a future for you. A future that he wouldn't have anyway?

You had so many questions, but the only person who knew the answers to them didn't seem willing enough to reveal their secrets. And yet... maybe it was enough just to talk to him? Before Kaz, the crows, Alina and Mal put their plan into action and got rid of him forever.

I dare you to come back and take what's yours.

Were you brave enough to confront the Black Heretic about the truth he was hiding? Did you even want to be privy to his plans?

I will have you, Kaz Brekker. But only when it's safe for both of us.

One thing was certain.

You had to choose a side.

Before it's too late to rescue your true love.

*Yes, there are two endings*

~•♤♤♤•~It's okay to love them both. I did - Katerina Petrova~•♤♤♤•~

You didn't know if you were doing the right thing.

You didn't know if removing the fold would actually solve the problem, or if it could have been solved peacefully by convincing the Otkazat'syas to create equal rights for the Grisha.

You didn't know if, after destroying the fold with Alina and giving Ravka's power to Nikolai, the situation would stabilise at all.

You didn't know if you could defeat the Darkling.

But you knew where and to whom to run as soon as the first stars appeared in the sky.

You weren't thinking at all. You just grabbed a few essentials and left everything behind as you ran straight ahead, exactly where your instincts told you to go. It's as if the moon and stars themselves led you to HIM.

Kaz was right. Crows know how to find their way to the nest.

You don't know who was more surprised. You or Inej patrolling their hideout. But you both agreed to throw yourselves into each other's arms as soon as your eyes met.

"It's good to see you." she murmured as the two of you parted. "Alina was worried that you'd changed your mind, that the Darkling had manipulated you again. Even Jes was panicking, and I have strong reason to believe Kaz is planning a way to get you out of HIS camp right now. Nina can't stand how his heart pounds every time the outside door opens."

"Then let's go inside before they storm against a hundred armed Grishas."

Inej put her arm around you and you both entered through a hidden passage to their "nest". You walked down the hall and were about to run inside when Inej grabbed your wrist and put her finger to her lips to silence you.

"For God's sake, Kaz, it's just Inej! Can you calm down before you have a heart attack because you get excited every time someone opens that damn door?!" Nina's annoyance amused you. You giggled, feeling genuine and carefree for the first time in months.

A sudden silence filled the living room. Inej dragged you with her to the entrance, confirming the crows' suspicions. You were home.

"What? No welcome hug for your moongirl? Ouch."

Jes was the first to lunge at you, nearly knocking you to the floor, and if it weren't for Alina, who was on your other side, hugging you with all her strength, you would have probably landed on the floor.

"About the damn time, Y/L/N."

You laughed a second time, hugging the rest of the crows who had joined you. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Nikolai and Mal watching the scene with a smile. However, the group was effectively blocking your view of the one person you desperately wanted to see.

The tap of the staff made the crows and Alina move away from you. You were standing in front of Kaz, composed as usual, whose face showed no emotions. But the eyes… you were probably one of the few who could read those eyes.

"Missed me, Kazzle?" you asked, grinning mischievously as his nickname left your lips.

However, he didn't respond to your provocation. He stared at you for a moment, then took one slow step towards you. Then the second. Third. Fourth. His cane tapped on the old wooden floor until he stood in front of you. You were centimetres apart.

And just as you were about to make some funny, sarcastic comment, something astonishing happened. Kaz Brekker, Bastard of the Barrel, Dirtyhands HUGGED you.

You already hugged him. You were so happy and blessed by the saints that you knew the feeling of those arms around you. But he'd never done it so... calmly. As if his waters would never rise. As if Jordie couldn't appear in front of his eyes at any moment. And the soft sigh that only you could hear as he buried his face in your hair hinted at relief. Not fear. Not anxiety. Not disgusted by the touch. Just relief. And comfort.

"Welcome home, moonlight."

You didn't know how long your hug lasted or when the others left the room, leaving you alone. All you knew was that at that moment, your world was limited to the man in front of you. Your friend. A partner in crime. Your one true love.

Suddenly (much to your silent protest), he pulled away from you. You watched in surprise as he began to take off his glove. The ring stone gleamed in the candlelight, as did your white light, which unconsciously began to emanate from you the moment he hugged you.

"It belongs to you." he caught your eye, and without taking his eyes off yours, he took your left hand gently and put the ring on your finger. You shivered as his warm fingers touched your icy skin. You watched mesmerised as he leaned over your hand and placed a quick kiss on your ring finger.

"Who are you and what have you done with Kaz Brekker?" you whispered in a trembling voice, unable to believe what was happening.

"No snide remark about how unromantic I am proposing to you? Who are you and what have you done with Y/N Y/L/N?"

"You know damn well you need a bigger ring to propose to me."

"Duly noted." you giggled, which made him smile softly. You stared at each other, taking in the sight of each other and watching the changes in your appearance. You were both tired. You could tell by the dark circles under your eyes, but nothing could take away the sparkle of happiness. "I thought you'd stay. WITH HIM."

"I guess I just can't stay away from you for long. Even if there is someone who needs my help more than you."

"We need you. I… I need you." with his still-gloved hand, he cupped your cheek, never relaxing his grip on your hand as he moved closer to you. "I want you, Y/N Y/L/N. And I'm not gonna wait ages for you, just because it's never going to be safe for us. That's how we both live. Still in danger, fighting our enemies as well as we can. We can bear and deal with as many problems as no one else. If you hadn't come back for me, I would have come for you. And if I couldn't walk, I'd crawl to you, and no matter how broken we were, we'd fight our way out together—knives drawn, pistols blazing. Because that's what we do. We never stop fighting. I… I will never stop fighting to be back with you. And those months without you… I told Pekka that the trick is not to love anything. Never, in all the years that you were gone and that I had you by my side in my worst and my best moments, have I ever realised that I was fooling myself. I loved this whole time, I still love and I'll always love."

"Kruge?" you saw him fight both his irritation and a smirk that threatened to break his bitter façade.

"I'm trying to be romantic for you here."

"And I'm trying not to cry and look even more like a mess. So forgive me for intruding on your speech with my comments you didn't anticipate, Brekker." he smiled, which made you mentally congratulate yourself on this small victory.

"I want you, Y/N Y/L/N. All of you." he suddenly let go of your hand and cupped your other cheek, moving so close that your noses were almost touching. The feel of his skin on yours was unearthly. It felt like a dream. And you'd curse any saint if it all turned out to be just another one of your dreams. "No matter what I have to do."

He was fighting with his haphephobia. For you. Because of you. And the sudden, impossible thought at that moment that you could live like in your dream crossed your mind.

You would take anything he could give you. It doesn't matter how much it would be, if it were just quick kisses on the forehead, hand, cheek, or a hug once a month. You don't care, as long as you have him.

"You've never had a problem getting what you wanted. What's stopping you now?"

And if Nina was annoyed by Brekker's rapid heart rate before, now she was furious when your heart had a fucking fit when Kaz kissed you.

You gasped in shock, freezing in place as you felt his soft lips on yours. Only after a moment, when Kaz wanted to move away from you in embarrassment, you grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to you, returning the kiss with all your longing and burning heart for him.

He must have breathed in relief as you took control and guided his inexperienced lips (although you had to be honest, he made the heat spread over you - which the sudden flash of white light illuminating the room only proved). You had to work on this sudden release of your light in his presence. Something that Brekker won't fail to joke about at the earliest opportunity.

You moved away from each other. You watched him closely, making sure he was okay. Kaz pushed your hair behind your ear and leaned in for another kiss. You were about to stop him, fearing it would be too much for him all at once, but luckily someone else interrupted you.

"Finally! The tension between you could be cut with a knife. Zenik! Give me my money! I was right—he'd pounce on her as soon as he saw her. That's my boy! Look, Wylan, how fast they grow. Only yesterday, he was our little boy who hadn't had his first kiss yet."

"Jesper." Kaz growled, glaring at him sternly. You were amazed at how quickly he went from sweet Rietveld to menacing Brekker.

"Yes, brother?"

"Run."

Jesper didn't need to be told twice. He grabbed Wylan's hand and dragged him deeper into the hideout, laughing. From the loud slam of the door, you guessed he had locked himself in their room with him.

"Saints, Kaz, you can actually look happy!" Nina decided to take over the role of the absent Jes.

"Don't be ridiculous." he snarled, taking your hand and pushing his way through the people in the hallway, probably following in Jes' footsteps and locking the two of you into his own room.

But Nina was right. There was no mistaking it for anything else. Kaz Brekker was smiling like an idiot in love. And you probably had a similar smirk on your flushed face.

~•♤♤♤•~

You made it. You and Alina destroyed the fold. With fascination, all of you watched as it slowly disappeared from the world.

But it wasn't over yet. You glanced briefly at Kaz and the crows and nodded to Alina. The final stage of your plan. Defeating the Darkling.

You and Alina separated, walking through the remnants of the fold with your own lights at the ready.

You knew you'd be the one to find him. He wouldn't mind adding even more drama to the situation.

After you left him, he tried to contact you by infiltrating your dreams, but with the two amplifires in your body, you were now too powerful for that trick to work any longer.

You walked among the worst of the remaining shadows, knowing full well that he must be among them. You could feel it through your bond.

"Aleksander." you said without turning to face him. You knew that he was there, watching you, as always.

"Y/N. Are you going to kill me?" the mockery in his question fueled your anger. You turned around, drawing your sword in front of you. You were right. He stood surrounded by the remnants of the fold that defended itself against the destructive power of you and Alina.

"You left me no other choice." you snapped back, tensing as he took a step towards you, not caring at all about the weapon in your hands.

"Your hands are shaking. It doesn't make you look like a formidable opponent, my Y/N."

"I don't want to kill you, Aleksander. I never wanted to." you decided to change your tactics. You lowered your sword and walked over to him, facing the man as you both stared at each other.

"We could have changed the world. You and me. Together."

"Yes. We could." his gaze flicked to your lips for a moment, then he looked at your eyes again, searching for any feelings in them. This time, you'll lure him into your trap. You will be his end, just like you promised him. Even though you really didn't want to. "But I was never yours, Aleksander. I was meant to be a crow. Not a saint. Not a moon summoner. Not your equal. Maybe we could have had it all, but not in this life."

"We shall meet again, Y/N. This is not the end of our story."

"Possibly…" you took a step closer, resting your forehead against his. "But it will continue only in hell." before he could summon the shadows, you blinded him with your light, and in one swift movement, you plunged your sword through his heart.

"Without me… now they will come for you." he tried to scare you by reminding you of his shadows.

"Then let them come." you took the sword out of him, flinching as black liquid began to drip from the blade to the ground. Aleksander fell to his knees. You dropped your weapon and grabbed him as you helped him lay on the ground as he took his last breaths.

"And yet I die in your arms." he paused, coughing up black blood. Your guilt increased as grief overcame you. He didn't deserve such an ending, but you knew there was no other way but his death. "Make sure there is nothing left from me. Please, Y/N. Please."

"You have my word... I'm sorry, Aleksander." he cupped your cheek with his hand, staring intently at you as death slowly took him away.

"Don't be… my sweet, little saint." his hand dropped, and his head tilted back towards the moon shining next to the sun. Aleksandr Morozova died.

You screamed, suddenly feeling the light in your chest trying to split you apart. You don't know how long you screamed air from your lungs until the pain went away. With tears still streaming from your eyes, you stood up on shaky legs.

"Y/N?!" Alina ran over to you, immediately helping you stay on your feet. "What happened? We only saw your light and heard your scream."

"I… I don't know… I… I don't feel my power, Alina." the sun summoner had no time to reply. Kaz was on the other side immediately, carefully examining your face and body for any wounds. "I'm fine, Kazzle. Will you help me? I… I promised him something."

Brekker glanced at the Darkling's lifeless body. He nodded to you, handing you his cane.

"Take it. And tell us what to do." you took it from him with trembling hands and stood leaning against it. It actually helped. It was easier for you to stand on your own two feet.

"We have to… we have to burn him."

The funeral, if you could call it that, was modest. Alina and Kaz (and later you, when you convinced Brekker that you could pick twigs with his cane) made a funeral pyre, and Alina lit it with her light.

Your power has not returned. You had your suspicions.

You stood at the burning pyre. Alina and you stared blankly at Aleksander, both in their own ways "mourning" his passing. You felt Kaz's burning, worried gaze on you as you stood holding the metal crow's head tightly in your hands.

"Are you sure that…"

"Yes, Kaz. I am okay. You don't have to worry, I'll give your cane back in a minute." he opened his mouth, ready to argue with you, but luckily, you were interrupted.

"What happened there?"Jesper asked you when the crows finally got to the three of you. They stared at the burning pyre in shock.

"I killed him… the Darkling... Aleksander. And I think I accidentally lost my powers because of it. He was an amplifier. Apparently you can only have a few before it takes your powers."

"Should we be concerned that you don't care too much?"

"No. I never wanted to be a saint. I guess it was always my destiny to be a crow." Kaz gave you a worried look. You sighed, nodding your head slightly. He knew you better than anyone else. He knew how the Darkling's death affected you. Even if you led him to it. He walked over to you and grabbed your hand, drawing letters on your skin.

I am with you. Through everything.

I know. Thank you, Kazzle.

"So this is the end?" Jesper's question pulled you both out of your silent conversation.

"Of this journey. There will be another. And another one. And another. And so many others until we all hadn't had our own palaces and tonnes of kruge." you said with a smirk, taking the hat from Kaz and putting it on your head, to the crows laughing and your boyfriend snorting.

"Sounds good to me, moongirl. Wait… we'll have to come up with a new nickname for you. But that's later. So? What's next, boss?"

Kaz glanced at Alina. She nodded at him, giving you a small, tired smile.

"Follow us." Kaz grabbed your hand and led you arm-in-arm. You both held on to his cane.

You smirked, out of the corner of your eye noticing Inej disappearing into the shadows and the rest of the crows following you. You turned your gaze to Kaz. You looked at each other, exchanging knowing smiles.

Ketterdam, your bastards are coming home.

~•♤♤♤•~It's okay to love them both. I did - Katerina Petrova~•♤♤♤•~

"What are you doing, lapushka?"

Even though he came from behind you, you didn't stop packing. You're used to him sneaking up on you when you least expect it. This time, you even felt his presence before he spoke.

"I'm packing my things."

"I can see that. My question is: WHY are you packing into your backpack instead of OUR chest?"

Several hours had passed since "the Baghra incident". The whole camp was packing up. Including you. You weren't going to stay here any longer and pretend everything was fine. Since Aleksander was going to pursue you anyway, you might as well break his heart before you leave. Just like he did with yours...

"You're a very, very clever man. I guess you can figure it out on your own. Like everything else." you replied coolly, never pausing to fold your clothes to give him even the slightest glance.

"Milaya… it was a really crappy few days. If you want to punish me, then…"

"I'm not your mother, Aleksander." you interrupted him coldly, not taking your attention for a moment from the things you were packing. "My job is not to raise, punish, admonish, or pay attention to you. But I don't think that you actually care when Baghra tries to give you some sense, so that would be pointless action from my side anyway."

"Then what is this? Manifestation of your anger and irritation? Should I get on my knees before you and apologise?"

"Well it would be nice, but as honest as saying that Ivan is our army's sunshine, so you can keep this, I believe, very considered apology for yourself."

"Then what do you want from me?"

"Nothing." your indifferent attitude annoyed him enough that he walked across the half of the tent to you in two steps and dumped the entire contents of your backpack onto the bed. "By acting like that, you're just proving me right." you replied, this time not folding anymore but immediately packing the clothes into the bag. Your mood lifted as you saw the annoyed, angry crease on his forehead.

"Right about what?! Leaving me just because…"

"THIS IS THE PROBLEM, ALEKSANDER!" you finally graced him with your gaze, turning towards the speechless man. You rarely screamed. Especially in anger. And almost never on him. "It isn't just a slight, unimportant thing that couples are fighting for. You broke my trust again! You hid the whole truth from me again! You put me in a position where I have no other choice but to leave you, so don't act like a surprised fool! It was you who broke us apart. It's always you. You want to make me the villain in our love story? Fine. Do it. But the truth is that YOU are the one who can't trust me. And yet it is you from our two who can't be trusted." during your furious monologue, you didn't even notice that you were walking up to him the whole time, until you pinned him against the wall of the tent.

You stared at him with resentful eyes, and just as you were about to pull away from him, you felt his hands on your wrist and neck. He changed your positions, moving much closer to you so that your chests were touching with each heavy breath you took in tandem.

"Careful, moonlight. You may know me, maybe even better than I do, but don't forget that I have that power over you too. If you wanted to go away, you would be now on your way to your pathetic friends' group. But you're here, talking to me. You don't want to leave. Why?"

"You know why." you whispered, refusing to admit what you both feel. You won't say the "L" word to him. Aleksander gently rubbed his nose against yours. The moment he was about to catch your lips in a kiss, you broke free from his grip and stood a few feet away from him. "But it doesn't matter what I want. I changed, Aleksander. I'm not going to stay. Not when you clearly don't want me to be your equal partner."

"I DO! Everything I do is for US!" he shouted, closing the distance between you.

"Then let me in! Completely. Not only to what's convenient for you to say to me. Or you will have no one to celebrate your great victory with. Surely not me." you growled, heading towards the exit of the tent, intending to leave him and it all behind you.

"Wait." you were not an obedient dog. He couldn't order you. "Please." the vulnerability in his voice shocked you enough to stop. A few steps from the exit. From ending everything you had ever had in common. "I was going to tell you about… about them… I just wanted to give you a little break before I put you again into my problems." you snorted in amusement, shaking your head in disbelief, when you heard the same fairy tale again. They were all right. He will never change. Not for you. "I was also scared!"

"Scared? Scared of what?" you groaned, turning to face him with folded arms.

"That I'll lose you the moment you realise I'm not as powerful as all of you think." you sighed, rubbing your forehead tiredly. You loved him. You really loved him. Despite everything he's done. But you've had enough of all of it by now.

"It isn't all about power, Aleksander. It never was. What a pity that you haven't realised it yet, after hundreds of years on this earth."

"And what choice did I have? With all those people who have always only wanted me dead? Who wanted other Grishas' deaths? Without power, you cannot do anything. You can't protect anyone by being weaker than your enemies, Y/N." he walked over to you and grabbed your hands, trying desperately to convince you to stay.

"You know what the real power is, Sasha? Family, love, friendship, loyalty—that's power. You can gain their respect, even make them fear you, and have them follow your every order without blinking, but this kingdom you want to create will not last the first century. Not if you continue to think like that. No one will follow the commands of a cruel Tsar who is afraid of losing control over everything and everyone."

"Watch your words. You're forgetting who you're talking to." he returned to this malevolent form of the Darkling. But you weren't a teenage Y/N from Ketterdam anymore. You were Grisha. Saint. Nobody and nothing could stop you.

"No. No, I don't. I'm talking with Aleksander. The man who taught me how to summon my light so I didn't have to train each day with his crazy mother. My Sasha, who stole for me chocolate for the kitchen and read to me Ravkan's fairy tales when my nightmares caught me at night. Not Kirigan or the Black Heretic. And you? Do you know who I'm talking to?" you asked, joining your hands again and forcing him to look into your eyes.

The sudden silence that filled the room after your words overwhelmed you more than your screams.

"Send for me when you know. I'm going to Kribirsk with Fedyor. You can join us when you have finally decided who you are."

You let go of his hands and gave him a disappointed look as you left the tent. You exhaled, shuddering as the chill night air hit your face, which was heated with emotion. Tears of helplessness began to come to your eyes. You couldn't change him. And even though you loved the shadow summoner in a strange way, you knew that being with him was destructive to both you and him. He couldn't be yours, and you didn't want to be his if that meant always being second to his Machiavellian plans.

Even though you and Aleksander had a fight about hiding the truth, you did it too. You weren't going anywhere with Fedyor. You went back to the crows. With a heavy heart, crying and dying inside because of the man you still loved. Feeling guilty that you left him alone and that this conversation will probably be your last until you all meet in the fold. Once he finds out you betrayed him, there's no going back. You will lose him forever.

You just hoped this whole war wouldn't end up as gruesome as in your nightmares.

And that he will be back for you.

~•♤♤♤•~

"You look like death."

Alina said as you made your way through the fold. You snorted, making room for her next to you, not taking your eyes off the shadows circling around you. If all goes your way, in two hours there won't be a trace of the fold... and neither will HE be.

"Thank you, Ali, you look as terrible in this war as I do."

"You know that's not what I mean. You miss him." you stood frozen, causing her to stop as well.

"No, I don't."

"Yes, you do. I don't blame you for that. It's only logical that you feel that way about him. You have history and chemistry. I remembered how all the Little Palace was too scared to get on your nerves or train with you too hard in case Aleksander would get angry at them for "hurting his Y/N".

"This is the past, Alina. We're no longer in the Little Palace." you growled at her, trying to maintain your mask of indifference. You must not care about him.

"I just want to say… that I understand if..."

"There will be no ifs, Alina. It ends here." you cut her off before she could add anything else. You had one job as a moon summoner: to destroy the fold. You had to do it. Even at the cost of burying your own heart in the process.

Alina opened her mouth, probably wanting to continue arguing with you, when suddenly even more shadows surrounded you. Alexander must have been close. Which means that nichevo'ya and volcra too.

"Let's split up. One of us will distract him."

"Why do I feel like it's supposed to be me?! Alina!" you failed to stop the sun summoner. You cursed, summoning your light and scaring away the shadows circling around you.

The more you kept them away from you, the more they attacked you. You knew you had to leave the fold as soon as possible before you lost the last of your strength. You could have had two amplifiers, but you still couldn't match the power of the fold.

You started running in the direction you came from, hoping to run out of here and find Alina.

You didn't get far before one of the volcra grabbed your cloak, knocking you to the ground. You lost your concentration for a moment, and all the light around you went out. Panicked, you only managed to summon a small orb of light, which momentarily blinded the shadow creature.

You tried to get up, but the pain in your left leg wouldn't let you. You cursed as you saw a pool of blood gathering under your leg. You impaled yourself on some roots. A glorious death awaited you.

You closed your eyes, trying to summon as much light as possible to keep the volcras away from you.

Suddenly, instead of the warmth of your power, you felt more and more cold around you. One single tear spilled from your eye as you slowly began to accept your death and imprisonment by the shadows of the fold.

However, for a long time, nothing happened. You opened your eyes uncertainly and watched in a daze as the nichevo'ya chased the volcras away from you, attacking the more aggressive ones.

"It's okay. I've got you, milaya." his soft whisper against your ear gave you more comfort than any shadow or light. And you were ashamed of how much power he had over you.

You felt him gently take you in his arms, cutting off the roots you had impaled yourself with earlier. He secured your wound and wrapped his cloak around your legs. The Nichevo'ya continued to fight the volcra around you, scaring them away from you.

"Why? Why you did it?" you asked with a trembling voice. He had no interest in saving you. Your death would only help carry out his plans. And yet he entered the fold FOR YOU. And saved you from his volcras.

"You know why, zyoma maya olya (moon of my life)."

You didn't ask him anything else. You let yourself sink into his embrace and bury your head in the crook of his neck, inhaling that comforting scent. You almost fell asleep as you rocked gently in his arms with every step he took.

Suddenly, he stopped. You looked around. You were close to the exit. You turned your gaze to him, finding his eyes already staring at you.

"Alina is waiting for you on the other side. I believe some of the crows are there too." he was about to pull you to your feet, but you stopped him by gripping his arm tightly.

"Wait." your mouth said before your brain could process what you wanted to say. He stared at you expectantly, waiting for your next move. "Please, Aleksander. Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Please don't make me choose I... I love you. I've loved you since you taught me about the constellation, since the first night you helped me with my Ketterdam's nightmares, since the first time I saw you, using the cut to save me and Alina I... I don't know how, but... I... I can't lose you. Please, Aleksander." you fell apart. Entirely. You released all your suppressed emotions, crying into his kefta, little knowing that he was fighting back his own tears.

"And what do you want me to do, milaya? I've spent ages getting to this point."

"And will you be truly happy? Is it all really worth it, Aleksander? Will you be jubilant when you enlarge the fold?" he sighed, resting his forehead against yours. You closed your eyes, listening to your rapid breathing.

"You can't just come to me, make a puppy-kicked face, say for the first time you love me, and expect me to change my hundred-year-old plans." you nudged his nose with yours, making him open his eyes to face your tearful ones, red from crying.

"Aleksander... please." you saw it. The battle that was going on inside him and the same willingness to give in to his desires and your desires to be together. And you prayed to all the saints to change his mind.

"If I do it, I'm never going to hear the end of it from my mother. You know that?"

"If it's any consolation, I promise I'll be there for you when she mocks us."

"You better do it, my little saint." he murmured, kissing your forehead as he resumed his march towards the exit of the fold.

You couldn't believe your luck. Aleksander chose you. Over his plans. You became the first and most important thing in his life.

If it was just a dream, you never wanted to wake up from it.

Despite the gravity of the situation—getting out of the fold in Aleksander's arms—you couldn't help but snort quietly into his kefta when you saw the shocked and terrified faces of your friends. The Darkling carried the moon summoner out of the fold. The most unlikely thing to see on a Monday morning.

Aleksander approached them slowly. He took his cloak off your legs and spread it on the ground, laying you on the black material. He stood next to you, making sure you were comfortable beforehand, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

You had to see the positives in this situation. At least no one had gone after him with a gun yet.

"Miss Zenik, could you look at her leg, please?" his question snapped the woman out of her stupor. She walked uncertainly over to the two of you and began to heal your wound, giving you an incredulous look.

Aleksander stood next to you, not caring more than usual about the surprised and terrified looks the others were throwing at him. Of course, Baghra spoke first.

"You're more stupid than I thought."

"Which one?" you asked for Aleksander, whom she looked at confusedly. You don't think either of them expected him to just stand by your side like that.

"You for falling so easily for him and him for letting himself be wrapped around your finger."

"Well, it's a very beautiful and powerful finger, mother." the crows' jaws dropped in surprise at this new revelation, and you rolled your eyes at the obvious malice from the now very amused Aleksander.

"I'm guessing you're not going to fight us? Will you help us or are you going to betray us, and is this another of your plans?" Alina stood in front of the group, eyeing him warily.

"I'm here for some reason. Definitely not betraying, Alina."

"Which is?" Kaz stood beside Alina, shooting the shadow summoner a hostile, distrustful look.

"My moonlight, Mr. Brekker." Aleksander reciprocated, giving him one of his darker looks. Yes, you forgot that these two can fight each other. Something will have to be done about this in the future...

"Okay, I'm done! We can move on to our plan before some jealous Western or something like this starts here." luckily, you had Nina to help you stop "the cockfight" for now.

Aleksander and Kaz rushed over to help you up. You grabbed each of them by the hand, and thanks to these two, you got to your feet. The men gave themselves furtive, hostile glances.

"Then let's go. It looks like the three of us are going to change the world together after all, Aleksander." Alina tried to defuse the tension and led you all towards the fold.

Aleksander didn't shy away from kissing you in front of Kaz before grabbing your hand and catching up with Alina, questioning her about the details of your plan.

Yes, you will definitely have to deal with these two later. But for now, the three of you were going to change the world...

"I love you too, my precious moonlight. More than you could ever know." he whispered in your ear moments before you destroyed the fold.

You didn't know what the future held for you, but you were sure of one thing.

Aleksander was supposed to keep you close to him through it all. And he will always be back for you.

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divasire · 5 months ago

Text

❦ ꗃ⋆࣪. Introduction.

hey diva dolls! It’s larra darling, your fav diva & your girlfriend’s fav diva!

here are some divalicious things about me!

❦ I’m a 18 year old, girly! my birthday is July 5th & I’m a cancer. ♋︎ #moonchild ☾ ⋆ ˚｡⋆

❦ I’m african american + nigerian 🇳🇬 & congolese! 🇨🇩

❦ pink, black, & gold are my favs! + I love shimmer & glitter!

❦ I loveee vanilla & fruity smells, smelling like a treat is my specialty!

❦ I’m also extremely introverted, my alone time is sacred to me.

❦ my favorite eras are the 50s-2016 for fashion, music, films, I’m obsessed!

❦ my spirit animals are definitely a fawn & then a leopard! I find myself having so much similarities to them personality wise & also look wise!

❦ hibiscus 🌺 & cherry blossoms are my fav flowers! 🌸

❦ I love peace signs ☮︎ music notes ♫ & swirls ꩜ they’re my ultimate fav!

❦ I’m a sucker for mythical creatures but my #1 would have to be vampires! #teamdamon #teamklaus & #teamedward

❦ I love physiological horror, mystery, romance, drama, & comedy films!!

❦ my music taste is so diverse, I love music to the core, some artists I’ve been listening to recently would have to be sade, kali uchis, a$ap rocky, rihanna, ciara, chief keef, sexy red, deftones, cocteau twins, childish gambino, whew chile… the list goes on.

now that we’ve handle the basics, let’s get to the juicy stuff!

❦ ꗃ⋆࣪. what inspired me to start this blog?

I love creating it’s been a passion since I was little & honestly, having so much free time, I feel like I have a purpose, to spread my word, & to inspire people! after reflecting I notice how im usually the therapist friend (which we know has it’s cons & pros) but it really made me want to help others, & also showcase my mindset! I’ve been like this since a kid, & as I get older, it embraces.

❦ ꗃ⋆࣪. what to expect?

I have so many ideas for this blog, you guys are going to be fed! I have so many different series I want to do, I want to keep it girly, & positive! so stay in tuned, diva dolls!

❦ ily! & I’m always so grateful for the support, you cuties have shown me!

that’s all for now!

- kisses from, diva.💋

#girlblogging #hyper feminine #dark femininity #early 2000s #light femininity #mcbling #trashy 2000s #diva #introduction #blog intro #girly aesthetic

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miss-oranje-disco-dancer · 6 months ago

Text

take your fast car and keep on driving

pairing: fem! leon kennedy (aka leah) x reader

cw: wlw, use of homophobic slurs, obscure resident evil characters (no, i did not just make all of those names up), angst, light smut, forbidden love, secret relationship.

summary: you are a rookie in the rpd, and so is leah (re2r leon but as a woman). you like her but you know you shouldn't pursue a relationship because this is 1998 and you're the cops.

a/n: this is a commission for @porcelainseashore! also, the title is a line from fast car by tracy chapman bc i like to cry to that song (and she's a (presumed to be) queer woman so it seemed to fit).

wc: 5.3k

taglist:

@rigorwhoring

@dilfprayers

@porcelainseashore

@dollita-fawn

@xoxoloveless

@admirxation

@pawrincss

Leah. You've never met anyone quite like her before.

Like you, she's new to the force, fresh out of the police academy. It's the first thing you bond over.

In the break room, she gives you a soft smile while she lingers by the kitchen counter, waiting for her instant coffee to finish brewing. The gurgling of the machine fills the brief silence between you.

"It's your first day too, right?" she says after you attempt a "hey" that comes out as nothing but a heavy exhale.

"Yep." It's all you can come up with.

"You seem nervous."

"A little. You know, don't wanna fuck anything up on my first day." Like this conversation. You keep the last part to yourself.

"Don't worry. It took me like three tries to get the buttons straight on this shirt. Jill- Officer Valentine had to help me fix it."

And somehow you're jealous. Leah seems to have no trouble making friends since she's already getting chummy with a STARS member. You'll be relegated to the losers club while she gets to sit at the cool girls table - if there is such a thing.

Most of your colleagues are men. Lieutenant Marvin Branaugh, your direct superior seems nice enough, Chief Brian Irons is a bit off-putting, though. And the STARS members: Officers Jill Valentine, Chris Redfield, Brad Vickers, Richard Aiken, Rebecca Chambers - and of course, Captain Wesker, who reminds you of a cartoon villain in the way he carries himself. Most of them are relatively nice to you. Jill has a hardened exterior but a soft heart; Chris is a typical jock and a natural leader; Brad is a bit of a knucklehead; Richard is his slightly smarter counterpart; and Rebecca, who's even younger than you, is an absolute sweetheart. Not to mention, Forest Speyer, Joseph Frost, Enrico Marini, and Barry Burton. You consider putting pictures of them on flashcards with their names on the back so you can learn them all.

Then, there's Leah who has a certain je ne sais quoi that makes her name stick firmly in your mind.

She walks gracefully, steadily in combat boots identical to yours and her blonde hair sways in time with her steps. Her pants fit perfectly, especially around the ass. But you try not to stare - you feel gross doing so when you catch the guys ogling her when she turns her back to them.

You wonder if they stare at you too when you're training in the gym. Lieutenant Branaugh puts an emphasis on staying fit in case the day comes where you need to chase down criminals or dodge gunshots during a shootout. A significant amount of your day is spent doing paperwork.

But for an hour a day, you do push ups and curl ups and pull ups (in that order) to 98.6 FM or a CD if Chris remembers to bring one down with him.

"Chris," you hear Wesker snap at him, "This music is atrocious. Go get a CD, a good one."

And with an exaggerated huff and the sound of metal weights hitting the hard floor, he does as he's told.

"He's kinda hot," Leah says from next to you while she stretches her calves.

"Who? Chris?"

"Yeah," she says, decidedly.

"You can have him. I'm not into meatheads."

"I'd like to see the head of his meat."

"That's disgusting!"

"Are you going to sit there chatting all day?" Marvin asks. "Or are you going to get in the ring?"

You both shut up and stand up.

There's nothing to fight over, but you can be competitive when you want to be. Leah seems intent on impressing Chris who's half-assing his workout both to stick it to Wesker, who is satisfied by his choosing Made In Heaven, and to watch you and Leah duke it out.

Nobody can resist a little girl-on-girl action. Leah has many things over you - her charm, her beauty, her laugh, and her body when she pins you to the mat. It's one, two, three slaps of her palm against the mat to crown you the loser, but she gets distracted, and only you can see the mask slip because you're staring into her eyes when it happens. You want to drown in her ocean blue eyes. Her pupils widen and then her eyes themselves in response, like she's shocked by her own feelings. And then she shakes herself out of it.

You blink and she's standing again, holding out her hand to help you up. And then, like she was never even there, she's gone, rushing in and out of the locker room so quickly that you don't cross paths despite your lockers being two apart. You, on the other hand, take extra time to consider the possibility that you've hallucinated her existence entirely.

But, does it even matter?

Leah starts showing up in your dreams. She's the intermission between being completely flunking your math exam and missing your flight to Paris (the recurring stress dreams). One night, you're eating lunch in a cafeteria and she sits across from you. The next, you're at a Halloween party and she wears a sexy cop costume, which is not that far off from her real uniform. It's the third time she shows up that you kiss. It doesn't go any further than that because you wake up to your 7:45 alarm.

What the fuck was that?

You have a book called The Secret Meanings Behind Your Dreams which was a gag gift from a friend. You flip through the pages and find explanations for dreams about falling, teeth falling out, pregnancy, but none about kissing your coworker. You decide it's better not to dwell on it.

You file the thoughts of her under the category of things that you don’t have the qualifications or the time to psychoanalyze. There’s probably some sort of bullshit Freudian explanation but you have crime to fight (aka paperwork to do).

You’re grateful for the distraction when it approaches you in the Main Hall of the RPD. It's almost the end of your shift when Richard approaches you. Out of all the RPD members, you feel like he's the closest thing to a friend you've got here.

"Do you have any plans this Friday?"

"Work, per usual."

"Well, yeah," he half-laughs, "I do too. But, uh, what about after work?"

"After work, nothing."

"Cool. Brad and I were thinking about seeing a movie and maybe getting drinks, and he also invited Leah, so I think she's coming too."

The mention of Leah makes you perk up. You could give or take the whole going out on the town after a long week of work.

Leah, speaking of Leah, you spot her across the hall, chatting and laughing with Brad and Chris.

"Cool," you say, staring right past Richard.

"So, uh, do you wanna come with?"

"Yeah, sure. Sounds good." It's less an acceptance to his invitation and more giving minimal responses.

Richard says some combination of "cool", "okay", and "see you tomorrow". Or something like that. You wouldn't know because you're barely paying attention to him.

You realize it's a double date when Richard puts his arm around you. You're enthralled with Saving Private Ryan. "It should win Best Picture," you remark later. But it doesn’t. But right now, you try to play off the fact that he startled you with an awkward laugh. The theater is too dark for you to tell if he's blushing or not, but his embarrassed "sorry" says he is. But before he moves away from you, you lean into him, and you swear you can hear him sigh in relief. He's nice. This is nice.

But more importantly, you watched Leah do the same with Brad and she's your leader just as Brad is Richard's.

No, for you, she's your muse. She's the goddess that you pray to.

When they kiss, you follow suit. He tastes like the buttery popcorn you've both devoured, but it's not bad. It could be worse.

It’s forgettable, washed away by the beer you drink at the dive bar two doors down from the theater.

"Do you wanna take this back to my place?" Richard asks.

"I would but I have to get up early for church" is the first excuse you can come up with.

Richard seems to believe you, which is most likely because he wants to believe this isn't rejection. "Oh! I didn't know you were religious."

"I am, yeah," you say, and hope the rubber chicken test prepared you for the difficult task of keeping a straight face in a moment like this. You think you notice Leah stifling a laugh across the table because she knows.

But her eyes only flit to yours for a second before Brad asks her the same question.

"I actually have a date to church tomorrow morning," she says, smiling at you.

Brad believes her because he's not the brightest bulb in the bunch. Before the awkwardness permeates too far, they leave together.

"So, church on a Saturday, huh?" Leah asks with a knowing smirk.

Finally, you both exhale the giggles you've been holding in together.

"God," you say, putting your head in your hands, though still laughing, "How long do you think it'll take for them to realize?"

"I dunno." She shrugs and sips her beer. "But hopefully sooner rather than later so I don't have to make up an excuse not to go on a second date."

"No second date for you guys? You seemed to be having a good time back in the movie theater."

She shakes her head. "I was until he started kissing me."

"Bad kisser?"

"Awful. Tongue down my throat and all."

"Ew."

"How about you and Richard?"

You shrug. "He's nice. And his tongue was not down my throat."

"That's good." She leans a little closer, like she's going to reveal a secret to you. "But you don't seem like you like him that much."

"I mean, I like him as a friend."

But nothing more. "Well, I should be going," you say, picking up your purse. "It's getting late, and, as you know, I have church."

"No, you don't." She rolls her eyes. "But you do have brunch."

"I do?"

"Yeah, I'll pick you up around 10:15-10:30? Depending on my hangover."

"Sounds perfect."

You and Leah each devour a plate of waffles in a diner voted Raccoon City's #1 Breakfast Destination '97 according to a poster outside.

"Mm," she ponders the taste of her coffee. "Way better than what the RPD has."

"I'm beginning to think they might just be giving us packets of dirt instead of coffee grounds."

"Where else are they going to put all the dirt they dig up outside?"

"It's so goddamn weird that they have a cemetery. It's like they're expecting us to die."

"I feel like I'm already dead. My head is killing me."

"Mine too. I don't even think I had that much to drink."

"Me neither, and thank god - I wouldn't want to end up in bed with Brad."

"You think you would've gone home with him if you were drunker?"

"Maybe. I tend to make stupid decisions when I'm drunk."

But, so do you - one of which includes playing spin the bottle with the RPD's finest.

"We used to play Kings mostly 'cause no one had a table that we could play beer pong on," Brad says when Chris asks him about high school parties back in his hometown.

"We can play Kings if I can find a deck of cards."

"No, we can't, dumbass, unless you have cans hiding in the back of your fridge," says Forest.

"What do you wanna play, Forest? Spin the bottle?" Chris asks sarcastically.

"I thought spin the bottle was a game made up for movies. I didn't know anyone actually played it," Rebecca chimes in from the corner, holding a soda rather than a beer because she 'felt bad drinking underage' even though Chris offered her one.

"You bet your ass people actually play it," Chris says. "How else would you kiss your crush when you're an awkward 15 year old?"

"Truth or dare," she says with a roll of her eyes to say it should be obvious.

"We could play truth or dare," Brad suggests.

"No, we should play spin the bottle," says Forest.

"If you wanna kiss me that bad you can just ask," Chris says.

"Why don't we play both? Then, if the bottle doesn't decide in Forest's favor, he can dare Chris to kiss him," Jill says.

"I'll remember to pick truth in that case."

You play spin the bottle first, which results in Forest giving Richard a peck on the lips, Richard passing it on to Brad, who goes for more than a peck with Jill, and Jill, pulling swiftly away from him, kisses Leah.

And it comes to Leah who lands on you. Of course she does. The first kiss is chaste, but when you take your turn and the bottle lands on her, it barely falls short of passionate.

The bottle is Leah's again and if it were possible to rig this game you might've believed someone had because it points in your direction.

A collective - and juvenile - "ooh" comes from the group. It's the same one you hear from a classroom of 7th graders when a teacher tells a student they need to "speak to them".

Rebecca, clueless, asks, "What?"

"They have to play 7 minutes in heaven."

"What's 7 minutes in heaven?"

"The two people have to go into a separate room for 7 minutes and they can do whatever they want."

Leah looks at you, you look at her. Hesitant, nervous, and curious.

"My bedroom's down the hall," Chris says, pointing towards it. "No snooping, no stealing, and if you break it, you replace it. Got it?"

"Yes, Officer Redfield," you say sarcastically.

Leah stands up, giving Chris an exaggerated eye roll, and you follow her down the hall. You can hear them whispering their predictions and fantasies about what you'll get up to behind closed doors.

But eventually, the games go on in your absence. You remain unaware as you sit on the edge of Chris' unmade bed next to Leah.

It’s just you and Leah Kennedy in Chris Redfield’s bedroom, the world is still and the lights are low, but you watch a decade fly before your eyes in a single moment. It’s fancy dinners and home-cooked meals, an apartment in the city and a house in the suburbs, the balcony, the backyard, the wedding, the honeymoon, the family portrait.

"So…" you begin, expecting her to set some sort of ground rules, expecting you'll end up conversing for the duration, maybe giving each other a friendly peck on the cheek. But, she looks at you, her eyes flicker as they quickly run up and down your body, and she takes the leap.

Her lips are soft and sweet with cherry-flavored chapstick, and like Katy Perry, you liked kissing a girl. But, there are no boyfriends to mind, and despite being tipsy and technically still playing by the rules of a game, there is something real about the way she kisses you. It's heated and hungry, urgent due to time constraints. You can't stay in this room all night - not because it's Chris', but because no one can know about this. You can't tell them that when her tongue meets yours it's the first time you enjoy the taste of beer. You can't tell them about how she tucks her bangs behind her ear so they don’t obstruct her view of you when she pushes you onto your back and her hands travel from your waist to your bra and stop when Chris opens the door. Leah is quick to sit back up, to pretend, but not quick enough. He knows, but for whatever reason, he keeps his lips sealed.

When you return with your head down to hide your reddened cheeks, Brad says, "You two must've been having a lot of fun in there since you missed the timer on the microwave going off."

"We just talked," Leah says.

"Uh-huh," he says, "Talked."

"You guys were totally getting it on in there," Forest says.

"I would've paid to see that," Brad says.

"You can admit it," Richard says. "We won't judge."

"There's nothing to admit," you say.

Jill throws you a sympathetic save by announcing, "You missed Rebecca having her first kiss."

"It's not that big of a deal," Rebecca says, timidly.

"Are you saying I'm a bad kisser?" Chris asks.

"I didn't say that."

The group decides to transition to truth or dare, and you're relieved to have the attention taken off of you and Leah. The boys become distracted by the sight of Jill's tits when Brad dares her to flash everyone. You decide to leave before you end up naked.

While you wait for a cab outside, Leah turns to you. "Can you keep what happened between us a secret?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Thanks," she says. "You're a great friend."

A friend. You longed to be accepted for so long, but now the word sounds like rejection. The word taunts you while you struggle to fall asleep.

Just friends. The way you told Leah you felt about Richard after you made up an excuse to not go home with him.

Leah avoids you at work the next week. No one seems to care except Chris, who asks you privately, "What is up with the two of you? You were going at it in my bed last weekend and now you won't get within 20 feet of each other."

"Nothing. We were just drunk on Saturday, so that whole thing happened, and we've just been busy with separate work this week."

"Uh-huh. You were just drunk? Nothing else going on between you two?"

"That's like asking if you and Rebecca have something going on. We just kissed because we were playing a kissing game."

He doesn't press further, though when he turns to walk away, you call after him, "Wait, Chris…"

"Yeah?"

"Don't tell anyone, though. I don't want them making a big deal out of it."

"I won't."

He keeps his word.

Leah used to eat her lunches with you, you'd both meet in the break room at 12:30 sharp, but now, you sit by yourself. Until Friday, 12:20, you find her sitting across from Jill, talking and laughing.

"Alright, I've gotta get back to work," you hear Jill say before she leaves the room. There's only one exit, so she inevitably crosses paths with you. She's the first person to give you a warm, genuine smile that week. It makes you feel human and real, and it gives you the confidence to talk to Leah.

When she spots you, she hurries to pack her things up and leave.

"Leah," you say. "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, of course not."

And you didn't. That's not why she avoids you.

"Then why are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you." Her shifty eyes and wavering tone give her away - not that it wasn't already obvious.

"Yes, you are."

She looks around the empty room before lowering her voice, "Fine. If I admit it, will you let it go?"

"How can I 'let it go'? We went from making out on Saturday to-"

"I told you not to talk about it."

"You told me not to tell anyone else."

"Same thing. You're just making it worse."

"How?"

"You're reminding me of it, and I don't want to think about it."

"Why? I thought you liked it."

"I did. I like you."

"I like you too."

Her face softens for a second, going from forced agitation to poorly-hidden bashfulness, but ultimately, she looks disheartened. Because you both know this can't happen.

"I wish it were different."

"You wish I didn't like you back?"

"No, I wish this world was different. I wish Raccoon City was different."

"Me too, but why should we let it stop us?"

She sighs, purses her lips, and turns her head. Finally, after a moment of contemplation, she says, "Okay, but we have to keep it quiet. When we're at work, we're just friends." She pauses and her lips curve into a smile. "And tonight, after work, when I take you out to dinner, we can be something more than friends."

"Deal."

She glances towards the door to make sure you're alone and gives you a grin that's almost conspiratorial before kissing you on the cheek.

"That's against the rules!"

"Oops," she says with a shrug.

You sneak a kiss on her cheek to 'get even' and she walks out of the room with an extra pep in her step. You notice her trip on the laces of her combat boots, too far away to hear you stifle a laugh, but you see her shake her head, feeling embarrassed by her stupid mistake despite being alone in the hall. She's not used to being lost in thought like this, not used to liking someone in this way.

That night, you play a mixtape you and a friend made together back in high school when your only problems were silly crushes on boys. You remember her gushing over a guy you thought was mediocre at best while the sound of Kiss Me amplified her giddiness, and you remember how you comforted her when he broke her heart while Linger covered up the sounds of her crying.

You wish you could call and gush over your date and have her calm your nerves over the phone, but you know you shouldn’t. You could say you were seeing a boy but a lie like that would violate the rules of girl talk. You decide to keep yourself company.

You drive separately and meet at the restaurant. It's relatively crowded with the typical hustle and bustle of Friday evening downtown.

You split two dishes and Leah pays. Like you, the waiter seems allured by her.

"Before you leave," he says to Leah in a hushed voice as if you can't hear what he's saying from across the table. "I just wanted to let you know that you're very beautiful."

"Thanks," she mumbles with a half-smile. Polite, but nothing else lies behind it. No desire.

"And," he continues. "I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime."

"No thanks, I'm unavailable."

"Oh? Where's your boyfriend on this fine Friday night?"

"No boyfriend."

He doesn't quite get it. Not until she reaches for your hand, giving it a squeeze when she takes it in hers. She smiles at you, warm, and then at him, proud.

"Oh, so that's how it is," he says, and you can almost hear the roll of his eyes. "Well, I left my number on the check, so you can call me once you're done 'experimenting'."

Her face turns sour while her eyes remain on him, softening when she meets yours. You walk out hand-in-hand now that you're beyond the point of hiding. Most people pay no mind, thoroughly absorbed in themselves and their dinners.

You take the bottle of wine to go, since you each had only a glass at dinner as neither of you planned to drive home drunk on anything but each other. You're grateful that Leah invites you to share the rest at her apartment since you didn't bother tidying yours. It's better she comes over when the floor of your bedroom is visible, and not covered in a layer of dirty clothes.

Her house is neat and minimalist to a degree that makes you think it's always this way. Her wardrobe, which mainly consists of multi-purpose basics - white t-shirts, blue jeans, and an array of leather jackets - lives on a single-rod stand-alone clothing rack. With her level of organization, she doesn't need to hide all of her things behind a closet door.

You are the only thing she hides.

But when you enter her bedroom together, she keeps the lights on. She wants to see all of you, to know you. She wants to put your picture in a locket and let you dangle around her neck, swinging like the pendulum of a clock in time with her heartbeat.

You unravel under her touch slowly and then all at once. She kisses you from your lips to your core with meticulous reverence and savors your taste. When you struggle to catch your breath, she holds you like you're bleeding out and your dying words are sacred to her.

Leah teaches you how to return the favor by letting you practice. It is a hands-on lesson. By the time you fall asleep, your lips are wine-dark and barely tired. She holds you close to her heart like a rosary while you sleep soundly.

You roll out of bed stealthily and search her kitchen for breakfast. There isn't much. She seems regimented in most areas of her life and health-conscious. There is a disappointing lack of Lucky Charms cereal in her cupboards. There is a carton of eggs, so you scramble a few for you both. You brew coffee too.

"Something smells good." You hear Leah's voice from the hallway before she appears in the kitchen. She wraps her arms around you, hugging you from behind.

"I took the liberty of making us both breakfast. I hope you don't mind."

"No, of course not. In fact, I could get used to this."

You take a sip of your coffee before you decide, "It's better than the kind they keep in the RPD break room."

"I think anything is."

You try to kiss her and she turns her head. You fear she'll claim the night before was a drunken mistake - it would be the same lie you told to Chris. Obvious in a way that makes it more infuriating than saddening. But she doesn't.

"Mm-mm," she says, shaking her head. "When I said anything is better than the RPD coffee, I didn't mean my morning breath."

"I don't care," you say with a smile and lean in again to kiss her.

She laughs when she playfully pushes you away. "At least let me brush my teeth before you kiss me."

"Fine," you concede and settle for kissing her on the cheek the way you do when no one is looking at work. Even in locker rooms you have to be vigilant. You doubt Jill or Rebecca would say anything unless you were doing something truly salacious. But it isn't unheard of for one of the guys to take a trip through the women's locker room under the guise of "hearing something suspicious" or "accidentally walking in there", sometimes without any excuse at all if it's Irons who has done this on multiple occasions.

Your secret relationship makes you feel like teenagers sneaking around behind their parents' backs. And like teenagers, you both can't wait to grow up and break free of the rules that hold you back from being together. But, you live under the tyranny of societal norms that you can't outgrow on your own.

Not when you have Brad and Richard who find you in the previously-unoccupied hallway.

"It's only a kiss. It's not a big deal."

"Not here."

"No one's going to see us."

But they do.

"I should've known you two were a couple," Brad says.

"Yeah, a couple of dykes," Richard says.

They laugh like bullies on a playground. You thought they would have learned by now. Aren't you supposed to get wiser with age? You're too stunned to say anything for a moment, but you make a conscious effort not to look at Leah. Not yet.

"What's going on over here?" Forest says, peeking around the corner.

"We just discovered there have been two queers hiding among us," Richard says as if he's speaking about foreign spies or ghosts.

"Yeah, they were totally getting it on out here," Brad says.

"Aw, I can't believe I missed the action. Could you give us a little replay?" Forest points at you two like he's the director of a porno.

"Go take your sorry ass to the video rental across the street if you want something to watch," Leah says with unwavering confidence.

Yours wavers. You never got the thick skin they promised you. You put all your strength into holding back tears. Something else burns behind Leah's eyes, though, you can see it. Her icy blue eyes somehow hold fire.

"Wow, a feisty bitch," Forest says, "or should I say butch?"

All her training led to this moment, but you step out of the ring in fear.

"Sorry I get more pussy than you, Forest," Leah says. She wouldn't normally engage them like this. It's personal. It's you.

"Shit. Pretty good one," says Brad.

"Ugly bitches usually have some brains, so it makes sense," says Forest.

It feels like middle school until it becomes physical. Richard pushes Leah, so she hits him in the nose hard enough to make him bleed. Forest lays his hands on her and likely knowing that she can't take all of them at once, especially when you're standing by in shock rather than fighting beside her like you should be (a thought you only have later), she pulls her gun on him.

Chris, who has won every sharpshooting contest STARS has held since he joined, hears the commotion and runs in with his own gun trained on Leah.

"Put the gun down now," he says.

And terrified, she points it at him.

They both stare each other down for long enough for you to draw yours and fire it because you know if he shoots her, he won't miss.

You would kill for Leah.

The bullet hits no one but the picture of Brad on a poster that hangs on various walls of the RPD. Which would be kind of funny if that's what you meant to hit.

Leah turns to you in shock which allows Chris to easily disarm her, knocking her gun out of her hand and kicking it out of her reach. His gun is aimed at you now. He can shoot you and get away with it, and he knows it. His finger hovers over the trigger but something in him holds him back.

"Put the gun on the ground or I will shoot you," he warns you instead.

You put it down and hold your arms above your head. All five of you are placed in separate rooms. There are not enough interrogation rooms to hold you all, nor are there enough cops that are not involved in the situation. Each of you is placed in handcuffs, but you are first. You never thought your handcuffs would end up around your own wrists.

You should be arrested. For once, you are grateful for the way Chris pities you.

"I wasn't going to shoot," is the first thing he says when he walks in. The second is, "you're lucky your aim sucks".

"I really thought you were going to kill her, and I was just scared. I swear, I'm not like that, usually."

"I know. And that's why you're not going to jail." He pauses before adding, "But you're handing in your gun and badge."

Everyone else gets a slap on the wrist. You wonder if it's a literal slap when you see Brad walk out of the interrogation room looking like he's on the verge of tears, but you find out from Leah that the combined interrogation of Chris and Jill will scare you straight.

"Pun intended?" you ask.

"No," she says, but a hint of a smile peeks through.

She tells you that she hates goodbyes before she hugs you. You open your driver's side door and she stops you.

"Wait," she says, and you turn to face her one last time. "Before you go, I wanted to tell you that I… I lo-"

"I know," you say, cutting her off. "Don't say it."

You climb into your car, but before closing the door, you say, "but just so you know, I would've said it back."

The sunset doesn't look as beautiful when you drive off into it alone.

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