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sunofpandora · 1 month

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Virago: Chapter 3

Neteyam x fem na’vi!omaticaya!reader

Characters:

Ka’lik- (like you would pronounce “Malik”) Y/n’s father, deceased, a warrior and hunter of the

omaticaya clan. A teacher to young warriors undergoing iknimaya.

Zensira-deceased, Y/n’s mother, spider's adoptive mother, a strong hunter and the best singer in the omaticaya clan, and a teacher to young hunters.

Kailo-(Y/n’s ikran. Your ikran is a male)

Popiti-(tuk’s best friend according to the visual dictionary)

(Also idk how many of you know this but Jake’s ikran’s name is canonically ‘Bob’.)

(WARNINGS!

Sharing a sleeping hammock with the opposite gender (non-romantically)-

Neytiri hating on spider/ mentions of insecurities, heartbreak, war,/ fluff/ angst/ mentions of hunting, killing animals, mentions of therapy, military, ptsd, romance, pining, use of military terms/codewords/ fluff ending!

Let me know if I missed anything.

Chapter desc:

Kiri convinced y/n to unload some of her lingering feelings for Neteyam. Y/n reveals that the incident all those years ago that took her parents scarred her deeper than she could have ever anticipated. Is this a battle the mighty archer can’t win? Neteyam has a confrontation with a pathetically simpering Kyuna.

Authors note:

Here we go! Chapter 3!! It feels insane to be posting the actual third chapter of this. But holy moly, building up romance is much harder than I thought. This chapter is a long one so grab your favorite snack, find a comfy spot and buckle up.

I have a small request for my lovely virago readers, please comment on your favorite line, moment, quote, or dynamic from this chapter. This is so I can know what kind of stuff you guys incline towards so I can throw more of it in as the story continues.

IMPORTANT:

hi guys. So I’ve decided to change spiders age from 20 to 19 for plot purposes. Jake and Neytiri are the same age. Tuk is still 7. Kiri is 19, neteyam is 19, Lo’ak and Y/n are 18.

This chapter is split into 3 parts due to tumblers dumbass word limit. This is part 1.

V I R A G O

Chapter 3;

Cupid Wears A Blindfold.

Y/n’s pov-

Word count: 28k (split)

Lo’ak snores. He snores a lot.

This was no epiphany to you, of course. Lo’ak had always been a snorer, much like Jake.

Ever since the sully’s welcomed you into their home when moving to high camp, sleeping arrangements were always abit of a puzzle.

Tuk often slept in all sorts of weird positions. Often rustling and twitching in her sleep. Some nights she nestles her way in between Jake and Neytiri, the poor couple waking up to an elbow jabbing into their skin.

Kiri was your second best option. She didn’t toss or turn, she didn’t kick or jab or roll. Your only deterrent? Kiri mumbled. Oftentimes talking in her sleep to some soft sung spirit she felt within her own solace, her own safety, her own world.

This never found itself to be a disturbance for you. You didn’t mind the mumbling. Kiri however, claimed ‘she loved you too much to keep you up at night’, and wouldn’t hear a word of it when you tried to convince her that it didn’t bother you.

But it wasn't completely in favor of your sleep schedule. Kiri liked her privacy. And you knew that. Better than most, actually. But that’s what was special about your bond with Kiri. You didn’t need words to understand her. And she loved you for it.

I don’t think I need to explain why sharing a hammock with Jake and Neytiri seemed out of the question.

And though most nights it seemed tempting, sleeping with Neteyam was a no-go.

And here you laid. Staring at the ceiling of the Sully family’s tented Marui home, while everyone slept, you damned yourself restless.

Lo’ak kept snoring in your ear, his breath hitting your neck.

His arm lazily thrown above both your heads, his leg sprawled across your shins. You huffed, attempting to turn the opposite way. The uneven weight caused the tent to dip unanticipatedly, causing you to gasp. Your hand reaches towards the wall to steady the motion, and to prevent you and lo’ak from falling.

You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a breath before shifting yourself evenly again, and Lo’ak continued to snore, his tail now poking your hip.

Your ears perked up at the sound of a soft rustling, and a gentle yawn.

“Y/n?”

You turn your head, seeing a sleepy Kiri blink at you slowly, her bright golden eyes adjusting to the light.

“What’re you doing up?”

She rested on her elbows, elevating herself a bit to see you more clearly.

You sighed, glancing back at Lo’ak.

“Oh. You know. Just doing a little late night praying. Praying that eywa will take me before his snoring does.”

Your blank tone made Kiri giggle, stifling her laughs with her palm.

“Oh trust me. I've shared a tent with him longer than you have.”

Silence draws between you both as your quiet chuckles slowly start to simmer away under the dark tent top.

Kiri sits up slightly, gesturing with one hand for you to come closer.

You shake your head, hesitantly treading her offer. You knew how kiri liked her distance.

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You? A bother? Y/n, you’re probably the person in this entire tent that bothers me the least.”

You crack a smile, huffing out a small sigh of defeat.

You slip out of your hammock, slithering your way over small objects that became obstacles on the floor with stealthy yet lethargic motions. of the family’s home before successfully snuggling under the blanket of kiri’s larger hammock. Now comfortable without the cramped positioning.

She chuckled, rubbing your back.

“Comfy?”

You nod, smiling at her.

“You're a lifesaver, Kiri. My hero.”

She ruffles your braids, winking.

“Nah. If anything, you are my hero.”

Kiri and you have always been close, ever since you were children. Your mother and Neytiri were practically attached at the hip, and since you, spider, and lo’ak were always a package deal, you and kiri had grown up playing together.

Kiri was softer spoken as a child, and you were loud and energetic. Your mother always said you were an ocean, and kiri was a lake. You, a soul syncing with the vigorous symphonies of azur-string reprised tidelines and honey-hidden siren songs. The ocean forgives, but it never forgets. Its strength is unmeasured. It waits for nothing.

Kiri was a lake. Lush green ripened grass sits along yellowed-tinted sun hazed stems of oddly-shaped wildflowers and imperfect patterns imprinted on petals. She was calm in the still moving water. You were the strength of the sea.

You always felt protective over Kiri.

A part of you couldn't help it. The day you and Kiri grew closer was the same day Jake had to meet with the Olo’eyktan of the Tawkami clan. The day the Chief’s children were teasing Kiri about her fingers. You and Kiri were about 8 at the time, and she really only saw you play around the village or carrying spider on your back as you trailed behind your mother and her daily chores. Or when your mom walked Lo’ak back to his family’s hut the morning after a sleepover with you and spider.

The day the Tawkami Chief’s children that accompanied him were picking and poking at Kiri’s fingers.

And where were you? Right there beside her. Threatening to feed the children to your mother’s ikran and telling them that your human brother would come and give them his demon blood “diseases” if they didn’t leave her alone.

They stopped picking on her, and she stuck by you from then on. Cause no one knew how to better handle bitchy 9 year olds than you did.

Kiri yawns, gently rolling on her side.

“Get some sleep, Y/n.”

You mumbled an ‘mhm’ before letting your eyes drift shut.

Its been about 15 minutes and sleep still evades you. The comforting vibrations of kiri’s warmth doesn’t seem to lull you like you assumed it would.

“Are you awake?”

Kiri whispered, and it startled you a bit. You assumed she was asleep.

You turned to face her and nodded. Her yellow eyes glowing evergreen tints in the darkness.

“Yes. But don’t let me keep you from sleeping, Kiri.”

She shrugs.

“I can’t sleep either.”

You both stay quiet for a moment, letting the silence settle.

“So, Makeyo spoke with you today?”

The same uneasy feeling returns once again, you blink at Kiri.

You shook your head, your voice quiet as if not to disturb the air around you two.

“We were just talking.”

“About?”

Her whisper courses against the flicker of change in the wind.

You stay quiet once again. Not because its awkward, or uncomfortable.

Sometimes, you felt like there was a shackle chained to your wrist.

The memory of your parents still haunts you.

It shaded you in its prison of night, torturing you to watch the sunlight, but never touch it.

You didn’t love anyone.

And yet, whenever someone offered you their hand, it felt like a trap.

A mockery of betrayal climbs your conscience. It's a hue of warm yellow, drenched in crimson and an agonizing black.

Jake told you that back on earth, he fought with other humans in a war that seemed like it would never end.

Sometimes people come out of bloody experiences constantly trying to wash their body because the smell of blood never leaves their nose.

Jake said it haunts you. Like a ghost. Some of the men he met would wake up screaming in the middle of the night. They wouldn’t laugh as much. Smile as much. What once was a comfort was now a cold, daunting piece of lost memories.

It's everywhere. And it hurts. What hurts most is that you can't protect yourself from it. Your arrows cannot pierce it. your hands cannot fight it away.

It’s real in some uncanny sense of a nauseating nostalgia. The type of memory that makes you thin your eyes because it's too bright.

An invisible devotion, it holds you above its disposal.

It keeps you away from falling in love. From holding someone's hand. From laughing at another’s jokes.

Sometimes you hate what you are. What you’re made out of. Because your soul constantly fights to build yourself out of ripped pieces of the past.

Because all you ever hear is whispers about where that happy little girl went. The girl who chased sun-dripped river banks with the symphony of children’s laughter.

This pain follows you.

When you wake from your nightmare’s it’ll sit in the corner. Watching you.

When someone flirts with you, touches your shoulder, brushes a strand of hair out of your face, it’ll be there.

What was the use of falling in love? As a child, you fantasized about having a love like your parents. So pure, so deep, so unexplainably perfect.

Only for them to die because of something you couldn't protect them from.

It’s not that you feared death. You feared the instantaneousness of it.

The unforeseen figment of a shape only for it to reveal itself to be a scythe.

They didn’t know it would happen, and neither did you.

And you weren’t fucking there. And now they are gone.

Never getting to watch you or spider grow to be full adults.

Leaving their children without so much as a goodbye.

Your only true goal was to die honorably on the battlefield. If you couldn’t find peace, maybe your ghost could.

Love was a weakness.

And when you fall in love, the shell of that pain will disguise itself under their soul.

You shrugged, your eyes averting away from Kiri. There's disconnected fatigue in your tone.

“He was nice.”

“Just nice?”

Kiri raises her eyebrow, scooting a bit closer to you.

You sighed, unsure of how to carry on this conversation. So you’re grateful when she does it for you.

“He’s a good guy. I've seen him help you teach the younger kids. They love him, always trying to climb on his back and asking him to carry them around.”

You nod.

“He’s a good teacher..”

you trail off, fidgeting with one of

Your bracelets. The one tuk made you, the one with mismatched bead sizes and colors. Juvenile plotted patterns in the small vibrant hues.

Kiri snickers.

“He might have to get in line with all your other eager suitors.”

you roll your eyes, poking her with your tail.

It wasn't unusual that Kiri teased you about getting attention.

Lo’ak’s friends sometimes whisper, quietly laughing and shoving each other as you walk by. It becomes hard not to notice as it becomes a frequent pattern.

Sometimes the guys in the hunting party Neteyam was often in, gently tapped each other on the shoulder, more subtly gesturing as you walked around camp or left for a ride, or even just helped with daily chores.

Their attempts usually deem themself futureless when Spider and Lo’ak glare at them, shoo them away the same way you would a pestering flock of birds.

Its a normality. Though spider was only a year older than you, he policed your love life just the same as any older sibling would. He didn't care that you were taller, stronger, bigger than him.

You scoffed.

“They’ll have to get through dumb and dumber first.”

Kiri huffed, annoyed with the two idiots in question.

“Don’t trust their judgment. They share one singular brain cell and it malfunctions half the time.”

The both of you laugh, trying to keep quiet. You bury your face in Kiris shoulder as the hammock shakes with your giggles.

You both sigh after a moment, still smiling.

“I can’t blame them. You’re perfect.”

She whispered.

There's a withering sense of somber behind her voice. It lacked bitterness, but it simmered on a ember, an ephemeral flicker of blue. The sounds of sloshed ash-blue sunsets and burnt-orange auras.

“I am not.”

You mumbled.

Kiri looked up at the top of the tented-hut. The small sparks of comforting vibrations from your bodies nuzzled under the woven blanket that allows only the softest of shivers to seize past the fabric.

“You remind me of my mother. The stories of her in her youth. The perfect woman. Strong, admired, sought out by many, envied by most..”

She trailed off.

If only kiri knew you didn’t feel like that at all.

“You’re my idea of perfection, Kiri.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

Kiri was pretty. You had to remind her of that sometimes. The way her golden eyes shined under a sheet of jaded-glowing evergreen, that of a hued green in a canvassed jungle canopy. Her uneven, choppy, imperfectly, perfectly shaped bangs that fell over her forehead, gentle wisps of dark feathered thick strands.

Kiri’s hair was slightly lighter than most na’vi women. You loved that about her, the almost dark auburn shades of brown that hollowed in chalked streaks of a honeyed glow, proving herself her biological mother’s daughter.

But the one thing you adored most about Kiri?

Her love for Eywa.

You could only envy it.

After the death of your mother, your once undying devotion for the great mother started to rot. You felt like she had failed you. Taken away the most precious piece of your soul and damned her name for tearing you apart and leaving you to pick up the pieces.

You were angry those first few months, and you think differently now. But your breath still shallows at the thought.

Your smiles fade, and the air around you feels hollow for a moment.

“I wish i could see through your eyes, kiri.”

Kiri squeezed your hand, gently holding it to her chest.

“I know you’ve been hurt, Y/n. I know this pain is great..But the great mother has a plan for you. I believe it above all else.You are strong. Stronger than any spirit she has seen…You bring the wailing ash and fire of the demon ships to pity with just your arrowhead. We will heal together, y/n. I will teach you to find your faith again.”

You let your eyes flutter closed.

Your beautiful, sweet Kiri. This wasn’t romance. This was sisterly love in its purest form.

“..Do you ever think about him?”

The question stills you, you looked up at her and blink.

“Who?”

“My brother.”

The comforting warmth suddenly becomes a sweltering heave of heat. You swallow thickly, looking down.

“No.”

Kiri shakes her head.

“Please. Don’t lie to me, Y/n.”

There it is again, the hole in your heart.

“Yes. I think of him sometimes.”

Silence settles again.

“Is it wrong?”

You whisper.

Kiri shakes her head.

“No. its just that he doesn't deserve to live in your mind.”

Kiri loves her older brother. She truly does. But she was right beside you when he drifted away. Even ignoring him because she was angry with how he had treated you.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, cupping her hand in yours.

“I hate it.”

“Hate what?”

“How i feel like a piece of me is missing.”

Kiri’s eyes soften.

“Oh y/n…”

“No.”

Your voice breaks only slightly.

“No. because im better now.

I hated him. I hated his hands. I hated his voice. I hated his back. I hated his arms. I hated his neck. I hated his nose. I hated his ears. I hated when he promised to protect me, I hated when he left me crying in the rain. I hated that I waited for him. I hated that he promised all the stars in the sky were mine. I hated him.

I don’t hate him anymore. I hate the delusions of himself he put inside my head.

I hate how he weakened me.”

Kiri gently brushed some of your braids behind your shoulder

“Heartbreak doesn’t make you weak. If anything, it shows we had something inside of us so beautiful and rare it was worth mourning.”

You blinked back the fresh sting in your eyes. Taking a shaky breath.

“Oh my dear.”

Kiri whispered, hugging you close.

“Get some rest. You don’t need to think about anything right now, I promise.”

You nodded.

“Yeah. yeah okay.”

“You know what? In the morning let’s go bother norm for a bit. Would that make you feel better?”

You chuckled, hugging her back before you both settled in respective places in her hammock.

“It always does,”

Sleep soon found you, taking you in its arms and soothing the sweet darkness.

Across the tent, Neteyam laid awake, his hands clutching a blanket of his own, his body still tensed after what he had just heard.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

The next day.

You liked hunting with Jake.

It was high on your list of some of the chores you enjoyed contributing with your new found life in high camp living with the sullies.

Spending time with jake was a bonus. Jake and your family went way back. Your mother was one of the only navi that welcomed him upon his unexpected arrival. She was the one who lended him an older loincloth for him to wear that first night he was captured and the omaticaya took away his RDA uniform, and while he had his first ever meal with the clan at high camp.

Your mother also played a huge role in his journey to become a man of the omaticaya people.

Teaching him things like weaving, beading, and some of the language along with Neytiri.

Your mother was the one who constantly pestered neytiri about her growing feelings for the dreamwalker, helping her unbraid her hair for the nights he spent with jake, letting her cry, laugh, scream, like any good sister would.

Your mother and Neytiri mourned sylwanin together. And your mother grew closer with Mo’at and eytukan as mentors as well, despite neytiri and your mother not being sisters by blood, they loved each other just the same.

Jake and you had a good relationship. Jake often helped train the younger warriors, neteyam, you and lo’ak included.

You were always the fastest, the strongest out of the group, since you were 15.

Jake remembers when you were small. Carrying spider around and chasing lo’ak, bringing gifts to baby tuk, playing in the flower patches with neteyam and making him wear the bracelets and crowns you would braid out the stemmed petals.

Jake was there with you when your parents died, and he ws there when you moved into highcamp with the sully family.

He was there when you had nightmares and woke up in the middle of the night screaming,

You remember those nights, when the images of your mothers body would rip you from your sleep and you’d almost shake poor lo’ak out of the shared hammock with your sobbing and pleading.

You remember jake rushing to you, gently holding you by your shoulders, gently utting your head to his chest.

‘Sweetheart hey- hey i’m here. Mawey, Mawey..easy- easy…there we go. Deep breaths..’

The hoarse tiredness in his voice as oddly comforting.

You remember shaking your head, settling yur breathing as the tears began to flow.

“I-i’m sorry..it was just another bad dream.”

“Hey. never apologize for having a nightmare. You’re okay. You’re safe here. Okay? C’mon. Let's take a walk-that’ll calm you down.”

You trusted jake. You always have. Even today, in the present. So of course you liked hunting with him.

But most of all? You loved flying.

Your ikran was your spirit brother, sometimes even following your commands without tsaheylu.

The bond you had was strong, stronger than most ikran’s are capable of.

And the best part? He had a temper just like you did. The first time you almost met death was your iknimiya.

Your ikran threw you off the cliff, and then flew down to attack you further.

Jake and Neytiri had to hold Neteyam back from swooping into save you.

But you did it. You completed your rite and claimed Kailo as your own.

And you soared with him now, above the clouds, barely containing the smile etched on your face as the wind whips through your braids.

You loved heights. You loved how infinitely endless the sky seemed, burning with blasts of azure or an early morning blaze of fire-hued sunrises, or the cold warmth of the rain that refused to fall within the stars.

Revered by the scattered songs of synodic vespers and requiems of rainstorms. The sky cannot be caged. It cannot be concealed or hidden, it is your sanctuary, enraptured by effortless divinity and strength.

Your ikran let out a shrill and you pet its neck.

“Easy, Kailo..”

You hummed, looking over to jake, who sat atop his own companion, Bob. His dreads caught in the wind behind him as he waved for your attention.

“y/n!”

The wind carried his volume.

“I think we should take a break. In an hour or two the yerik herds will come to the river bank. Let’s law low in the woods.”

“Yes sir.”

You gently kicked Kailos' side, tilting the reins to descend after Jake into the forest, weaving around trees and foliage.

You laugh as a gust of wind trails you and Kailo, almost throwing Jake off his line of flight. Kailo was one of the fastest ikran your clan had ever seen. At least, that’s what the elders of the clan had told you.

Lo’ak was often jealous of spider because spider always got free rides on Kailo. You land before Jake, hopping off Kailo’s back and petting his neck.

“Mawey, tsmukan”

(calm, brother.)

Jake landed after you, the sound of ikran wings announcing his arrival. He climbed down right after you, patting the neck of his own Ikran, bob.

Jake spotted some Yovo fruit trees up ahead, cutting you both down a few as you both sat down on some rocks for snack break.

Jake leaned back, handing you a half of his own fruit as you muttered a small thank you.

His eyes wandered, as he glanced up at the trees, as if his gaze had become conscious of every shape and sound that surrounded him.

“I remember this place.”

Jake uttered in a soft hum in the air, his line of sight tracing around the figment of nostalgic fixation in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, munching on your fruit.

“Here? At this spot?”

Jake nods, nudging your shoulder with his knuckles. Pointing to the source of the sound of trickling water.

“The pond. Back when I was training for iknimaya. Way before your time.”

He smirked, as if it was something to brag about.

You rolled your eyes,

“Oh goody. Another one of grandpa's war stories.”

Jake chucked a Yovo fruit at your head but you caught it effortlessly, not even glancing.

“I’m not that old.” he huffs, clearly impressed at your heightened reflexes.

You chuckled, flipping your knife in your hand to withdraw it from its place in the sheath on your hip to cut open the fruit.

“Can’t move it like you used to, huh pops?”

“You know, I could have you banished.”

“Than who would save Lo’ak next time he wants to play tag with a thanator?”

Jake ruffled your braids in response to your surmise, clearly holding back a smile.

“Where would I be without ya, kid?”

You shrugged, handing him another half of the freshly cut fruit.

“Probably in one of those healing homes back on earth.”

“You mean nursing homes.”

“Same thing.”

Jake shook his head, letting out a sigh, knowing it was probably spider who taught you such a term.

He glanced around again, brushing in the scenery.

A silence commences between you both, the soft shrills and distant flap of wings within the deep jungle is the only sound that demands attention.

Jake speaks softly, breaking the silence with fragile, yet scrambled steps.

“She never fails to take my breath away.”

You look up at him, watching as he leaned back against the tree, letting his eyes flutter closed.

“Who?” you whisper.

“Pandora.”

He hums in response.

you often forgot Jake wasn’t from this planet. That his true home could only be seen as the sirius among scattered stars. What was it like? Seeing your home from below? The only thing worth touching is the implacable incarnation of your memories.

To hide what was left of yourself, a mere ghost that lingered in the wrinkled corners of your mind.

“What was it like..your home?”

You whispered.

Jake’s ears perk up, his eyes landing on you as he sat up slightly.

He stayed quiet for a moment. Staring up at the sky, his finger gently tracing one of the stripes on his leg as his gaze remained absent.

“It’s like living on a skeleton.”

When he finally speaks, it's quite literally the last thing you would have guessed he would say.

You raised your eyebrow.

“A skeleton..?”

He nodded.

“Earth is just a shell. Like the carcass of an animal. A corpse, almost.”

“I don’t understand.”

He nodded, scooting a bit closer to you, starting to speak again.

“Earth used to be beautiful. So many colors you couldn’t count them all.”

You nodded, trying to imagine the formless figment of a world in which you’ve never seen.

He closed his eyes, as if trying to remember.

“There was light, lots of it. The air, the sun, the stars…”

You blinked at him.

“What happened to it?”

Jake paused, something creeping behind the orbs of his irises. It's a sickening dark shade of a color he can’t remember, but its bitter aching bones are enough to weaken the courage of a once strong rhythmic heartbeat.

It’s a shadow of an echo. Gutted inside something hollow and carved out of shivering pulses running to a soured stillness.

“Humans will take until nothing is left. They will gawk at the lights of a stupid billboard instead of noticing the dying grass under their feet.”

What's a billboard?

You thought, but decided not to ask.

You stayed quiet, staring at the ground.

“That’s why they want this planet. Because they killed their old one.”

Jake nods, sighing almost regretfully.

“They think the na’vi is their greatest enemy, when really, the ones who have killed the most humans are…well, more humans.”

You can’t imagine it. Taking a life without regarding the soul you have soiled. Does the red on their hands not sting their eyes?

And that's when you realized it.

Death hummed shallowly in its own pulsating methods. But even the devil has an advocate.

You killed. You have killed many. And it doesn’t seem to register until that very moment. You never thought to count the number of raids you had accompanied your clan on, Jake appointed you as his main archer when you were only 15.

When rage and grief overshadowed the shallowness of sunlight all you wanted to do was avenge.

An untamed anger was born in you when your parents died. And you swore every arrow you ever shot was in their names.

Zensira.

Kai’lik.

Zensira.

Kai’lik.

How would they look at you now?

Their little girl. The little girl they loved. Their beautiful, beautiful precious girl who loved to hear her mother sing. Their little girl who loved to carry your big brother spider around, (because your big brother wasn’t so big compared to you.)

Who loved to visit the pond and play with lo’ak. Who liked to make bracelets with kiri and get thrown into the lake by your dad, tossing around your small body when you were 7 as you squealed through the freshwater air.

A killer.

“Y/n? Y/n. Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Jake placed a hand on your shoulder, but his touch felt cold.

Jake’s voice sounded like your head was under water. Blurred, distant sounds.

Your breath becomes shallow, but you weren’t hyperventilating. You were just…still.

What if you had failed them? What if they were watching you right now?

Knowing you had killed. Not hunted.

Hunting was for survival. To feed your family, your friends, your clan.

This was killing. This wasn’t a need. It was a want. A want for vengeance.

Were you even a na’vi at all? Killing without respect for life even if they were a human.

Your mother forgave. Your father forgot.

And what were you? A disgrace of everything they stood for.

Your voice came out like a whisper. Every thought and feeling swirling around in your head. Despite your silent panic, the air felt eerily calm, and almost mocking ambience.

“Did I disappoint them?”

Jake stilled for a moment, rubbing your back.

“Who?”

“All of them.”

“All of them?”

You swallowed thickly.

“Y/n..you know you can talk to me, right?”

You nodded, staying quiet for a moment as you stared down at your shaking hands.

“Am I a bad person?”

Jake’s eyes widen a bit for a moment, his hand slowly withdrawals from its place on your shoulder.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because sometimes I like the way pain feels.”

Something clicked for Jake at that moment.

Where you saw your hand bloodied by a manic anger and bones with regretful splintered scars, Jake saw a shadow. A shadow of a distressed consciousness that he once acquainted himself with.

Jake was no stranger to products of war. Even when those products were souls losing their vibrancy. The colors fading into hardened flesh.

Jake had seen war turn people into hollow shells. Unheard prayer scattered and dissipated under a blood-stained sky.

Jake finally spoke, but his words, slow and somber, treaded a steeper meaning.

“You aren’t a bad person, Y/n. You’ve been hurt. Hurt by people even eywa cannot forgive.”

You shook your head, the threat canvassed along perpetual doubts.

“I don’t know why I’m like this.”

You admitted.

Jake places his hand back on your shoulder again.

“Sometimes people like us, soldiers, we start to like the pain because we think it’s the only thing we'll ever deserve. But we don’t like it at all. Not really.”

You can almost see it. The stars are falling again. The tapestry thread being pulled mercilessly. The colors are falling. The sun is turning cold.

You had to catch them. You had to chase the colors or else they would abandon you again.

Your reflection seems distorted. Liquid glass in the taunting shape of a little girl.

A little girl who knew no bloodshed. No war. No pain. No anger.

You would never be that little girl again. And its all your fault. You wanted to kill someone after your parents died. You wanted to kill every single human that worked for the RDA or even set foot on their base.

It’s sick.

It’s wrong.

It’s vile.

But its you. This wreckage of scars and bruises, tattered tapestries and broken bird songs, its all you.

That all too familiar sting hit the back of your throat, you could feel your gaze numbing.

“I’m beyond fixing.”

You whispered.

“No one is beyond fixing.”

He promised.

“Can you take some deep breaths with me? Just a few, Y/n.”

You followed his instructions, and the red started to simmer away. The air felt forgiving once again, and your throat started to feel normal once again.

You spoke again finally, after a few moments of silence.

“Maybe I should have my na’vi card revoked.”

You chuckled dryly.

Jake patted your back. “You and me both, kiddo.”

“What you feel is normal.”

He added.

“That anger. That vengeance.”

You glanced up at him. “Na’vi are supposed to solve conflict peacefully first. War is just a last resort.”

Jake scoffed.

“I think we’ve reached the last resort awhile ago, Sweetheart.”

You went to speak, but were quickly cut off.

“y/n you are not some kind of psychopath. You don’t kill for no reason. You kill to protect. You fight because something dear to you is threatened, that's what makes a warrior true to their heart, their clan.”

His words eased your anxiety a bit. But the shadow behind the sun still creeped disguised under the warmth of forgiveness.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I want them to feel pain.”

You whispered.

Sometimes you wondered if pretending to be made out of stone means you’d still break like glass.

War was the type of calm that tranquilized. Drugged you into delusions of comfort.

Somewhere inside you was that little girl. She hates you. She hates you with all her heart.

Somewhere inside you is that 15 year old that’s waiting for neteyam in the rain you swear is just falling stars. She hates you. She hates you with all her heart.

Somewhere inside you is your mothers daughter. Wondering who did this to you.

You didn’t like violence But you were prone to it.

You didn’t like war. But you're afraid of the day it no longer has a use for you.

War ruined you. Because war made you angry. And anger tortured you.

You weren’t deserving of sunlight, maybe that's why you familiarize yourself with the bleakness of dusk.

Maybe that’s why you loved Neteyam.

Maybe that’s why you hated yourself.

Maybe that’s why you’ve trained yourself with blood stains and tear tracks.

Your mother was forgiving. She adopted a human child after watching her family die, and hometree fall.

She devoted herself to eywa, a woman true to the kindness of her heart and the flame of forgiveness.

She had seen fire and escaped it.

You had seen fire and burned with it.

The shackles on your wrist. The burning in your throat.

You were a child forced into a warrior.

And maybe it was time to heal, but why didn’t it allow you?

This shadow oppressed you. And maybe this prolonged insanity was a good sanctuary to be understood, not severed. Your bones were made of seared iron, the fissure of a once porcelain excellence.

War had ruined you. And ruined things didn’t deserve to be loved.

Jake pulled you close to him, wrapping an arm around you, you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“You’re one of the fucking strongest people i know. You know that?”

He whispered, and the simplicity of his touch settled an almost agonizing comfort.

“Can you fix me?”

You whisper.

Jake shook his head.

“Y/n. You are not something to be fixed. You need to be healed. And I know you can do it. And we’ll be right beside you the whole damn time.”

You let yourself close your eyes.

“You're a soldier, kid. Just like me. A fighter. It’s all we think we know, all we think we’ll ever deserve. We swear to live and die on that battlefield.”

You nod.

“Sometimes it feels like the battlefield is the closest to home.”

Jake speaks once more,

“Until you find someone who feels a little closer.”

By the way he smiled softly, you knew he was talking about Neytiri.

You leaned further into his shoulder, and he patted your back.

“You know, back on earth, we have a special way of dealing with cases like these. Soidlers who need trauma relief.”

You blinked at him, immediately intrigued.

“You do? How?”

“Therapy.”

You tried the strange human word out on your tongue.

“Ther…ah…pey-

There-a-pay-”

“Therapy.”

Jake corrected gently.

“What’s that?” You asked, as Jake stood up, putting his knife back in his sheath.

“Its where you go to someone who can help you talk things out. Iv’e seen a few back in my days. Military psychologists are what we call em’.”

You raised your eyebrow.

From spending time with max, norm, and spider, you knew that humans had a different way of dealing with their feelings than na’vi did. But this new information peaked your interest.

“How can i find one?”

Jake paused.

That’s a damn good question.

He thought to himself.

He hummed for a moment, petting bobs neck and you put your bow back in its place on your saddle.

“How about this, every few days, you and I can meet.”

Jake proposed.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Where?”

He shrugged. “Anywhere you want. We can go to one of the mountains, or the stream, or the caves, whatever. It can be private. And we can talk like you would to a therapist.”

You considered it for a moment, but after all, maybe this would fix you.

You shook on it and agreed.

“Deal.”

Jake ruffled your braids and smiled.

“Attagirl. Lets get moving. Those yerik are probably at the lake by now. I’ll race you.”

You mounted Kailo, rolling your eyes.

“I don’t abuse the elderly.”

“Oh fuck off i’m not that old.”

You faked a wince as jake mounted Bob.

“Oo, careful grandpa. You shouldn't be moving too much like that.”

Jake flipped you off.

“Kiss the darkest side of my blue as-”

Before he could finish, You and Kailo took to the skies.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

Back at high camp..

Neteyam’s pov:

Lo’ak groaned as he laid in his hammock.

Today felt like small pieces had been torn out of it. The absence of my father, my mother, Kiri and Y/n all contributed to this unease.

It fascinating how easily little pieces of things leave something so unstructured when certain routines in your life undergoes a sudden cessation. Only fragments of familiarity keep me company today.

Oh, yeah. That and Lo’ak’s bitching.

I’m never one to complain. Not really. But Lo’ak…He was my personal acception.

I’ve been stuck with him since this morning. My father took Y/n out to hunt early before I awoke, and my mother and Kiri have gone to assist my grandmother in the Tsahik tent. Lo’ak lost his flight privileges after that little stunt he pulled during the raid, and I don’t feel like going anywhere alone. I offered to join my father last night on his hunt this morning, but my father insisted he and Y/n go hunting alone.

I offered to help my grandmother, but Kiri beat me to it. My mother asked me to stay home and start preparing for tonights meal. So here i was hunched over chopping up root vegetables while I was stuck in this void we called home. I felt detached today. Like the world just floated around me while I remained rooted like a weathering tree.

My accidental overhearing over my sister and Y/n talking last night is still fresh on my mind.

“Dude..I think you’re done with that one.”

Lo’ak’s voice finally reaches my ears.

I lift my head, and he points down to where i had clearly been so distracted, i had diced the poor vegetable into tiny pieces, too small to be cooked over a fire. They would shrivel away in the smoke.

I threw them to the side, trying to refocus.

“What is up with you today?” Lo’ak interrogates instead of asking. I keep my eyes down, shrugging.

“Nothing. Why?”

He shrugs, mocking my movements, leaning back in his hammock, leaving his leg to dangle, his toes brushing the ground.

“Dunno. You just seem kinda…off?”

I sigh, scraping the new batch of chopped vegetables off the carved board i was cutting them on and into the wooden bowl with my knife.

“Just a bit tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night”

Technically, that wasn’t a lie. Which seems in my favor, if you remember from earlier, I’m a shit liar.

Memory was a funny thing. It claws at your mind until you grant it consciousness, and then it romances itself with such scandalous notions. Unforgiving us for ever dreaming of forgetting.

It wants to awake something in us that we can only pray stays dead.

I knew I shouldn't have been listening to Y/n’s words. I knew I should have been asleep.

But know that it’s found me, it captures me.

I want to exist in her mind not only as a figment, because there’s one particular part that is beating the shit out of me.

‘I don’t hate him anymore. I hate the delusions of himself he put inside my head.’

I used to think she only hated me. Hated me for my ignorance, my hesitance, my fear.

I hated it too.

But no. She hated me because she thought i lied to her, gave her something so precious, so inexplicably binding only to shatter it infront of her eyes.

My love for her was never a lie. It was never a joke, or a ruse, or a figment in this phantom of longing that looms over me.

I couldn’t allow this to go on any longer. That I knew for sure.

Unfortunately, getting to Y/n was a wall i couldn’t seem to climb.

When she wasn’t out hunting or strategizing air strikes with my father, she was with spider, and Spider didn’t let me go within 5 feet of Y/n.

I had to admire him for it, despite him becoming a vicissitude in the middle of my current mission, I had to give him some slack as a fellow oldest sibling.

If anyone had hurt kiri, or tuk (when she came of age to engage in such ‘romantic affairs’) , if anyone hurt them the way I hurt y/n, I’d probably have to put my mother’s years of archery lessons to use. Granted, My father would probably skin the poor bastard and wear him as a coat before I even got a chance.

I can’t blame him for protecting Y/n.

I try to think further as i continue chopping, my tail flicking behind me.

I decide Kiri is my best option. I’ll find her when she returns from Tsahik’s tent. Eywa please, just give me one chance. I swear i’ll-

“Where’s Tuk?”

Lo’ak suddenly pipes up, he probably got bored with his own laziness.

I glance up at him as i scarped off my knife.

“Kyuna picked her up this morning to take her to play with popiti for the day.”

Lo’ak raised an eyebrow.

“Kyuna?”

I nodded, not looking up.

“Your new mate?”

I don’t like the way he said ‘new mate’. As if i had one in the first place.

I shake my head, slightly annoyed.

“She’s not my mate. I’m not interested in kyuna.”

“Tuk said-”

“Tuk doesnt know what shes talking about.”

Lo’ak shrugs, leaning back to sit up a bit, looking at me with skeptical eyes.

“What’s really going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you speak of.”

He scoffs. “I’m not stupid, Neteyam. You’re acting off. You have all morning, all day, and even now. Whats the deal?”

I place my knife down, glaring at my brother.

“I don’t owe you an explanation. Okay?”

The tent falls silent, and I continue on with my chores, I hear Lo’ak mutter a small apology under his breath. I cave.

“No, I’m just tired..I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

Lo’ak nods, fidgeting with his songchord.

“If you don’t want kyuna…You aren’t thinking about Y/n. right?”

Lo’ak was more than displeased when I started courting y/n. And he didn’t try to hide it either.

Lo’ak loves y/n. Not romantically. But he loves her.

It’s the kind of closeness that isn’t sex or intimately deep.

Lo’ak always felt like the distant star in our family. The one who strays from the perfect rotation of each patterned path.

His hands were stained with hunger. Imperfect painted sun blood stained skies.

Lo’ak’s trust in us was ghostly and transluscent. He didn’t always feel like he fit the shape carved for him.

Lo’ak’s imperfect edges, sharpened and rough, scarred and edged to a point.

He found his place between Spider and Y/n. His bestest friends. Two people he would die for.

Found his own sky.

Dark blue and purple hues and the warmth of pale moonlight, he found his place.

When Lo’ak found something that accepted him, he protected it with his life.

And I can’t blame him. Being in love your brother's best friend is awkward.

Lo’ak was afraid of me stealing that away from him.

Of me invading his circle.

The reality of a sacrifice is an odd, unevenly constructed abstraction.

People don’t think I was born from my mother, rather I was carved from stone and polished to a pristine hue of gold.

My parents expected me to build myself wings and fly further than anyone had ever tried.

When the line wasn’t perfectly straight, it was erased and made a new slate. Blank. Perfect. Spotless.

And sometimes, I’m not neteyam to my parents.

I’m my mother, just a younger version.

I am my father, worn thin from a war and plagued by my past promises.

I’m just a shell of something that was no more. Something to refill with their own pieces of the past.

My skin and soul is only stitched out of parts of them. But only the unscathed parts.

Anything that dared to be less than that was indescent. Unworthy of the light.

My mother’s anger, my fathers guilt, was a far too discolored shade to be seen in the sky.

My existence was like a kaleidoscope of muted colors. A prism turned prison.

I think I’ve forgotten how to slouch. How to sit with an unwelcome posture. How to fidget and how to fantasize.

My entire life is full of sacrifices.

Sacrificing y/n for my future.

Sacrificing my brothers best friend. My future mate.

But I’ll be damned if I loose her again.

So, I lie for the second time.

“No. I wasn’t thinking about y/n, idiot.”

Lo’ak nods,

Leaning back, closing his eyes. I mentally high five eywa because he doesn’t interrogate me further.

“You know, instead of taking a nap, you could be helping me.”

I huff, and fight the urge to roll my eyes, and he sighs dramatically.

“Neteyam, I’m too pretty for slave labor.”

I throw a vegetable at his head and he hisses in pain.

“Fuck you. That’s sibling abuse.”

He whines.

“I’m about to abuse my responsibilities with this knife if you don’t get up off your lazy ass and do something useful with your existence.”

I point my knife at him and he groans, standing up and leaving the hammock.

“Easy there, big bro. Spider will be here soon.”

I raise my brow, an uneasy feeling settling in my chest.

“Spider? Here?”

He nods.

“Yeah. We have chores to do too, ya know.”

I shake my head, slicing the new vegetable horizontally, watching the colored juices trickle down the roots and stain the cutting board.

“No. Not here. You know how mother feels about spider.”

Spider was my mother’s foil. An old term our father taught us.

My mother owed Zensira her life. And she swore to her a long time ago, that if anything happened to her or ka’lik, she would step up to be a mother to y/n, the same went for my father.

But Zensira didn’t have one child. She had two. Spider was not biologically her child, but he was treated like her son all the same. Living in Y/n’s family’s tent, being cared for, the same way any mother would nurture a child.

My mother made promises for y/n. But she never made any for spider.

I don’t think she ever will.

To her, she was a demon. And alien. The type of animal with no hope of survival, but refuses to die. Remains unyielding even under the unwelcoming atmosphere of pandora.

He was an actor. A pathetic excuse of a performance. A pale child painted blue.

My mother loves y/n the same way she loves tuk and Kiri. Would go the same lengths for her as she would for any of her children, and the same thing applies to my father.

Spider was allowed everywhere in high camp except our family’s hut.

My grandmothers hut was an exception, because it was a communal place in our clan.

But my mother refused to have any sky demon’s presence scathe the memories of her home. Her only safe place. Where she raised her children and started her new life.

That’s probably why Lo’ak spent so much time at Y/n’s hut when he was little. It was one of the only places he could be comfortably with both Y/n and Spider at the same time.

“You know how mom feels about spider in the hut.”

Lo’ak’s expression is blanked with disinhibited concern and a genuine lack of guilt.

“Mom isn’t here. She’ll be gone all day. Plus, we’re making y/n some new arrows. She’s on that group hunt tonight.”

I crossed my arms.

“And who allowed you to mess with her supplies?”

Lo’ak scoffed. Placing his hands on his hips with a cocky grin.

“The mighty archer herself. I’ve been appointed by Y/n and tasked with a very important job. Who am I to decline her?”

“Just make sure he isn’t here for long. She can smell him if he’s been in here. You know mom’s senses.”

Lo’ak waves me off, standing to his feet, grabbing the small baskets of purple and red feathers y/n used for the fletching of her arrows, and starts to tie them to the shaft of the arrow.

Spider joined him not long after, the two if them sat in the middle of the tent, crafting arrows and talking.

Spider glanced at me after finishing another arrow.

“So where is everyone today?”

“Father took Y/n hunting. My mother and Kiri are assisting grandmother- and Tuk is with popiti.”

Spider raised an eyebrow at me, his mask fogging up momentarily with each breath.

“Who? Popiti?”

Lo’ak rolled his eyes.

“Kyuna’s little sister.”

Spider nodded in realization, then his expression soured.

Lo’ak snorted. “Neteyam’s new mate.”

“For the 5th time, she’s not my mate.”

Spider chuckles along with him and I swear i’m losing neurons from just breathing the same air as Lo’ak and Spider.

Or really, just Lo’ak.

I stood to my feet as i heard footsteps outside. Tuk must’ve finished up her activities with Popiti for the day.

Usually, It was An’kora. Popiti’s mother, who walked Tuk home in the afternoons.

But when I opened the flap. I’m faced with a face that isn’t my little sister, her braids slightly disheveled from a day of wild fantasies and games of tag.

A na’vi girl, with mid length braids and a beaded top smiles at me so sweetly it’s sickening.

You know those kinds of people that you've known since your childhood, and you always knew in one way or another, they would grow up to be assholes?

Yeah. That's Kyuna.

Kyuna was the girl that never let Spider or Kiri, Or Lo’ak play any of her games because of their ‘sky people germs'.

Kyuna was the girl that told everyone not to sit next to Y/n in the communal lessons we attend as children, telling everyone that she lived with a human boy who gave her diseases.

She does this thing where she laughs into her hand, and leans on the person closest to her, expecting them to allow her access nto their personal space as if the world had her name written on it.

She bows slightly, her movements unnecessarily exaggerated as she raises her two fingers to her forehead and dips them down.

“Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam.”

I return the gesture, nodding at her.

“Kyuna. It’s good to see you.”

No it’s not.

She bats her eyes at me, and my annoyance only simmers away when a familiar smaller na’vi body slams herself into my leg, pressing her head into my hip.

I chuckle softly, ruffling Tuk’s braids.

“Hey Tuk-Tuk. Did you have a fun time?”

I pat her shoulder as she opens her mouth to speak, her big eyes sparkling before she’s cut off by a shriek-like voice.

“Oh she had tons of fun! Her and Popiti just ran around for hours playing their silly little games.”

When you're an older sibling, you start to catch onto things. You start to memorize your younger siblings' habits, mannerisms, movements, even the slightest twitch of their tail.

Tuk was a creature of habit. And I could tell by the way she gently tugged on my loincloth, and the way she tucked herself behind my arm, she was uncomfortable.

I reach my hand out, and she takes it within a split second, gently borrowing herself in the space behind me.

I lean down a bit, keeping my hand in it’s place on her shoulder.

“Are you hungry? Why don’t you go on inside, yes? Spider and Lo’ak are already sitting. I’m sure Lo’ak would love to make you some seed-leaf wraps.”

Her tail flicks at the mention of her favorite snack, and she finally cracks a smile, before jogging inside.

“She’s adorable. Isn’t she??”

Kyuna sighs in an almost dreamily manner, I stand up straight again to face her.

“My mother was informed An’kora was taking Tuk home today. Did something come up?”

She waves me off, ridding my concern from the air.

“Mother got tied up on foraging duty. I figured I'd watch the girls and walk Tuk home.”

I nod, slowly. “Ah. Well, thank you for taking her home.”

She smiles, tilting her head like a viperwolf begging for scraps.

“Oh. No need to thank me. She’s precious, that little Tuktirey.”

I never liked the way she talked about my sister. Her tone was almost mocking, as if she was describing a doll or some kind of inanimate object.

“Well. I should get going. I don’t trust lo’ak alone with the firepit and Tuk is probably hungry-”

“My father wanted me to invite you on his next hunt. Are you free midday tomorrow?”

I wasn’t surprised when she offered. It’s all she talked about the last 4 times I had saw her.

The one time I did agree, all the man would talk about was what kinds of flowers Kyuna liked, and how no one had courted her yet.

My eywa, I wonder why.

There’s an unsteady rhythm that inhabits itself in my chest. The kind that sets off warning signals in your brain.

I scratch the back of my head awkwardly, my knuckle brushing my tswin.

“It’s a kind offer, really. But I’m already expected to join the night hunt tonight. The one led by y/n and my father.”

She stared at me with some notion of unrequited enamour, and I almost feel bad for her.

“I’m sorry. Maybe another time?”

She nods, her tail swishing behind her.”

“Of course. I’d expect nothing less from the future olo’eyktan of our clan.”

The emphasis on my title seems almost slurred, and my body instinctively takes a step back the moment she takes a step forward.

“Yes, well, my training has only been increasing.”

“Such a strong warrior. A man of the people. I’m surprised you don’t have the women of our clan falling at your feet. Oh, wait You do!”

Why was she yelling? I’m literally two feet in front of her.

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.

“I should get back inside, kyuna.”

“One more thing, Neteyam?”

I don’t turn my body fully towards her, but my eyes focus on her figure nonetheless.

“There’s been rumors.”

Something twists in my stomach the moment she says that. Like a static running blank. Or soundwaves straightening into lines.

“What?”

“People talk. And there’s been word that the future olo’eyktan of our people will never find his tsahik.”

I groan, dragging my palm down my face.

“Don’t bother me with such matters, Kyuna. All this talk of the future that is too far away to be treading towards. My father is too stubborn to give up his place that fast. He will remain olo’eyktan for a long time before I take his place.”

She shrugs, crossing her arms.

“All i’m saying is..”

She takes another step, her chest nearly touching mine.

“You are wanted for more than you think. The women of this clan practically swoon over the thought of being by your side, and you haven’t even blinked at them.”

I click my tongue, averting my eyes.

“My future mate is none of your business. Nor is it the clans. Not now, at least.”

She goes to speak; but before she can utter her next words, Lo’ak came stumbling out of the tent with a less than pleased expression on his face.

“Bro.”

He tugs on my arm, gagging exaggeratingly.

“Tuk threw up- it’s a mess in there. Whatever Kyuna fed her is NOT sitting well.”

I blink at my brother, but it quickly registers that something wasn’t right.

“Are you sure? She seemed fine when she came home-“

“Dude. I know barf when I see it.

She must have ate something bad at Popiti’s.”

Kyuna was stunned, crossing her arms in an offended manner.

“I beg your pardon? Tuk didn’t eat anything at my place today.”

Lo’ak scoffed.

“Uh huh. Sure. You’re probably just trying to poison my sister. Aren’t you? Our father will be hearing about this!”

My main concern at the moment is Tuk.

“Excuse me-“

I muttered to Kyuna as an excuse for a goodbye, shoving past Lo’ak to my family’s tent, expecting to see a poor Tuktirey doubled over, regurgitating what was either late breakfast or early lunch, when instead all that comes into view is Tuk sitting cross-legged next to spider, as he starts methodically picking out some of the different seeds from the assorted bowls we used to prepare our meals. As he sat making leaf wraps for a suspiciously fine looking Tuk.

I crouched down next to her, feeling her forehead and keeping a hand gently on her back.

“Are you okay, Tuk?”

She nodded, blinking up at me.

My eyes flicker up when Lo’ak enters the tent, whistling as if nothing just happened.

“Lo’ak, Tuk seems fine..”

I trail off.

He winks at me.

“Your welcome. Kyuna left us in peace.”

Pain in the ass or not, I have to admit, Lo’ak was smarter than we give him credit for.

when I finally finished peeling the vegetables, I left them in their basket and enjoyed a break with Tuk, Lo’ak, and Spider.

We all sat eating Spider’s very poor excuse of a seed-leaf wrap. But they worked, for some odd reason no one could place.

Spider didn’t eat, because of his mask, so i guess he settled for conversation.

“So, Tuk. How was your playdate?”

Tuk nods eagerly, talking through a mouth full of seed-wrap.

I reach for the extra cloth in my loincloth pocket, letting her wipe her mouth before speaking normally again.

“It was fun. But I don't think I like Kyuna anymore.”

Lo’ak scoffed, high fiving tuk.

“Put er’ there sis. Neither do I. She’s a bitch.”

“Lo’ak. Language.” I scold, smacking his head lightly.

He rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Shes a B-I-T-C-H. Better?” Spider laughs. Leaning back.

Lo’ak shoves him.

“Oh and what’s so funny? Mr, ‘i’m afraid of women’?”

Spider shakes his head, raising his pointer finger to poke lo’aks chest.

“Correction. I’m afraid of your mother and Y/n.”

“Everyones afraid of Y/n.”

I ignore Lo’ak and Spider’s bickering, turning my attention to Tuk.

“Was Kyuna bothering you?”

She shook her head, taking another bite. Speaking through a mouth full of food

“Nuh-uh. But she kept asking me if you were home, and if you had received any courting gifts yet, or if you wanted to go hunting with her.”

I bit my tongue, smoothing down some of tuk’s stray braids.

“How about this, Next time, I’ll walk you home from Popiti’s.”

She nodded and took another bite of her food.

“I don’t think she should be your mate anymore”

Tuk shakes her head disapprovingly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Spider raises an eyebrow.

“Kyuna and you are a mated pair? Since when?”

Lo’ak snickers and I groan.

“For the last time, she is not my mate.”

Tuk blinks at me before speaking again.

“Can you mate with y/n instead? She’s nicer.”

I shove another leaf wrap into her hands.

“How about we play the quiet game for a bit?”

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

Hello my lovely virago readers! So because tumblr didn’t like my original 28k words version of this chapter, iv’e split this into 3 parts. This is part 1 of chapter 3. Part 2 and 3 will be posted straight after.

Thank you for your patience!

Please don’t forget to comment your favorite quote, dynamic, or moment!

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@bay7let

@fairuzwhat

@jackiehollanderr

@6423btw

@satesatesate2009

@0stargirl0

@heavenlysstuff

@dayyzlol

@iheartamajiki

#avatar the way of water #jake avatar #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neytiri #kiri sully #lo’ak x reader #neteyam x you #avatar fanfiction

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lightlycareless · 2 months

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Hey again!! What do you think is Naoya height?? Because i can't seem to find his official height. So i headcanon that his height is 187cm. That's pretty tall right? But idc bc i love tall men in general 🤭

And i want to know your hc because you're one of my fav naoya writer!

Hello!!!

Omg I feel like I took forever to respond, idk why I get that feel from time to time, then I look on the dates and maybe it hadn't been so long?!??! Idk

Either way, thank you for your patience 🥺❤️ This is actually something I've wondered about in the past... as well as this little drabble I wrote :> I hope you like it!

I haven’t set an official height to Naoya, but I always assumed he was pretty tall too; he’s described as so in the wikia and looks like it too hehe.

So yep, around the 180s+ is just about right! Maybe not 190’s ‘cause he’d be getting to the same level of Gojo, but up there. (If it’s worth anything, I always thought he’d be amongst the tallest of his siblings, but shorter than Naoaki lmao)

Now, onto the good stuff.

warnings: none. fluff. naoya being a tease. (who would've known?)

It’s safe to assume that due to his height, either Naoya has to lean down to kiss you, or you have to step on the tip of your toes to do so. An arrangement that smoothly fell into place, not that much of a hassle to comply with, and honestly? I think both like doing it very much.

Until he realizes this is something he could also take advantage of; and boy, does he abuse this opening when the opportunity flashes across his mind.

He just… can’t help it! With the way you adorably purse your lips to kiss him, gently grasping his arms to pull him down just to make your job easier, he needed to, you know?

It’s in his nature.

And so, he leans into that, opting to not close the gap between his lips and yours, leaving you there, anxiously waiting for the moment your skin touches his, while doing his best to hold back from gawking at your cuteness.

It’s only when seconds pass and you have yet to be kissed, that you naturally grow worried, assuming something was wrong and opening your eyes to find out what it was… upset when realizing it was intentional. And obviously, since this isn’t as funny to you as it is to him, you eventually become frustrated.

“Hey, don’t be angry!” Naoya laughs, following you across the state as you storm away, flustered and ashamed that he’d make fun of you with something like that! “Come on, Y/N, I was only playing!”

Naoya eventually (like always) catches up to you, pulling by the arm and encasing you in his embrace, a wide smirk on his lips as he finally attempts to kiss you properly; but you simply deny him by looking away, forcing him to kiss your cheeks instead, the top of your head, or just about anything else but your lips, much to his dismay.

“You’re not actually angry… are you?” Naoya murmurs, feeling that maybe he had miscalculated how annoying he’d been.

“…no.” But you eventually disclose otherwise, because as frustrating as he was, he was still the husband you loved very, very much, with all of his playful, teasing, and sometimes cruel actions. You truly wouldn’t want him any other way.

Truth to be told, your embarrassment came more from the fact that you managed to catch a nearby servant, just by the corner of your eye, laughing at the two, making you feel as if he’d caught the two in a highly inappropriate disposition.

And never one to willingly share your intimate moments with anyone else outside of Naoya, their reaction quickly filled you with shame, jolting you out of the scene.

But even then… Naoya’s careless demeanor, whether because he hadn’t noticed them, or perhaps didn’t bother to care, reminds you it wasn’t as serious as you were making it to be.

Besides, the two were married, surely, they got an idea of what transpired between the two behind closed doors.

Naoya was very… passionate about it, after all.

“I don’t like it when you do that.” You still admit, for it didn’t mean you strived to be deprived of his kisses.

“I was just joking, princess.” Naoya coos. “I’d rather die than not feel your lips anymore.”

You blush.

… yeah, he was very passionate when it came to it.

“Does that mean I can kiss you again, my love?”

“No. Not until you make it up to me.” You smirk, Naoya’s eyes glisten.

“Hmm, is that so? And what do you have in mind?”

A lot of things, in fact, amongst them a direct continuation of that kiss he cruelly isolated you from…

But only until you get away from the prying eye of the surrounding servants, already hearing them snicker about how funny you looked trying to reach for Naoya, all pouty because he wouldn’t kiss you, more so when comparing how small you looked next to him…

Once that’s set, then you can make Naoya work for it.

I'm short myself, 5' to be precise (154) so everyone is naturally taller than me lmao but damn.... tall men... my weakness.......................... and Naoya? oof.... dreamy 😏❤️

Anyways, thank you so much for sending in this ask!!! I'll do my best to get to the other adorable one you sent me 🥺❤️ I love them all so so much agjkhasjkgasjkga I'm so honored you like my work 😭😭😭😭❤️❤️❤️❤️ thank you!!! keep them coming 🤭🤭

Take care, and hope to see you soon!!

#ask #naoya zenin #naoya zen'in #naoya x reader #naoya zenin x reader #naoya zenin x you #jjk naoya #naoya zen'in x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk x you #prompt series: jujutsu kaisen

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gigigle · 1 month

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I really hate how ursa is done in the comics idk

Like I'm done with the arranged marriage and her and ikem but I hate the other stuff.

1. Her and azula

I kinda wish they made her and azulas relationship more complex and nuanced instead of it being that ursa loved her all along and never favored zuko

Because I just think that's a little lazy. I feel like if ursa had favored zuko it would've made sense like if we keep the ikem part of all of it then I think it would be interesting that ursa favored zuko because he reminded her of her past and ikem. Also that with zuko she could at least pretend he wasn't ozais.

But with azula she couldn't pretend at all. And then coupled that with the fact that azula had a spark in her eyes that zuko didn't and she saw how ozai reacted to that and how he treated zuko that she would feel like she would need to protect him even more. I think it would be an interesting thing if zuko reminded her of her old life while azula reminded her of her present life.

And that would cause a rift between them. And then we would have azula acting out for her mothers attention and acting more and more similar to ozai which would just further increase the rift. Because ursa would struggle to separate her daughter from her abuser like she can with zuko. Especially since azula would also spend most of her time learning from ozai and listening to him.

Im also not saying she would a horrible mother either. Because I think even with this scenario that she is still nuanced because she got forced into a situation she would have never chosen and is just trying to get through it day by day. I think it would be that like ursa, azula was just a casualty of azulon and especially of ozai. Because had ozai not been there I think she would have been a much better mother.

Like idk I just feel like with how the comics wrote ursa and ozais relationship this would make even more sense than her being just a slightly flawed mother but she was trying her best. Idk I'm not very articulate.

2. The forgetting thing

It sucks. I hate it so much actually. It's just so bad, like I feel like the writer couldn't think of anyway to make it make sense that ursa would never go back to her kids but tbh I can think of some ways.

Like ursa is definitely terrified of ozai and he knows where she went and she would still go back to her hometown.

So maybe ozai knows this and every now and then he sends soldiers around there to just do a bit of patrol maybe even have them raid her parents house as a way of telling ursa that if she does something her parents and ikem are gonna be the price. Which I think would work.

Also I think with azula and zuko that she just kept telling herself that zuko had Iroh and that azula was ozais favorite. She probably just repeated those constantly like how zuko does with azula always lies. And soon after like a year she believed it.

Also I think she wouldn't get any information on them because ozai would make it harder and like we see in canon not that many know of or recognize azula and zuko. Like in the beach episode kids who seem to have noble parents don't even know about them so I think it would make a lot of sense that the royal family is way way way more private esp during ozais reign. Because yk ozai killed his father,stole his brothers birthright, and In ozais opinion had a failure of a first born. And maybe ursa was also too terrified of what shed find out or just to leave hir'a/her hometown.

Also part of me thinks it was lazy writing so that they wouldn't have to have ursa have difficult conversations about why she never went looking for them or just a conversation with azula because we never actually get a real ursa and azula convo.

3. Kiyi

I hate her. Like she just feels like such a a replacement and lazy writing. Like they wanted zuko to have a healthy brother sister dynamic with someone and they didn't know how,didn't think of, or just didn't want to write that with pre established characters, they decided to make a character that was everything azula wasn't and was the perfect little sister and daughter.

Like I think she could be fun but I also think she was just so that zuko could have that dynamic without having to put in the work of writing azula a semi redemption arc or smth.

But also I think maybe they could've given zuko that brother sister dynamic with katara or toph. Like we see zuko jealous of sokka and katara and maybe we get stuff we're zuko and katara will act like sibling or like the relationship he always wanted with azula but then gets reminded that he can't have that.

Also It feels like a way to also give ursa the perfect daughter but I do think rewritten she could work. I think she's a fun concept.

End

Tbh I just wanted to rant because I feel like so much was done that was just kinda boring and lazy.

#avatar the last airbender #atla #azula #azula in the spirit temple #uncle iroh #zuko #the search #smoke and shadow #fire lord ozai #ikem #not ursa slander #ursa #avatar comics

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soleilnomoon · 1 year

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geto suguru x fem reader | issa toxic affair, y'all.

6.2k words (i know, i know), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; angst city, angst angst city biiitch (yk the vibes) & smut (obvy); feat. cute stuff like a lil' degradation, toxic ass relationship, a lil infidelity, obsessive love & jealousy, lovers 2 exes 2 enemies 2 lovers, public indecency, hand job, oral (f receiving), knife play, a lil bit of blood kink, alcohol, geto is a certified asshole & but reader gets him back, yandere reader bc i love being toxic, gojo makes an appearance! also idk other stuff probably idr ok; also reader is black bc i said she is. this is for @510hz's how to be a heartbreaker collab event (ty so much for letting me participate, i had fun truly). this was inspired by mariana's "power & control"; there's also a lil inspo from "the glory" in there, you'll see. it took me forever but i survived, i hope y'all survive reading this 🤭 (if u see typos/grammatical errors no u didn't)

“you horrify me. but at the same time, / i horrify myself. we are horrible.” – hélène cixous

there’s a name for the disease you have; it’s called foolishness, or, in layman’s terms: love.

your mother warned you long ago, to guard your heart — to ensure that no man could penetrate the thick walls encasing it — yet there you are, a silly, pathetic thing scurrying behind a man who would readily cast you aside if it suited him. you truly did resist him at first; you rebuffed his advances with polite smiles and curt responses, yet he persisted daily and, in hindsight, obsessively.

it’s in his nature, after all.

a man like geto suguru simply does not concede if his pride is on the line — and your initial rejection did, in fact, bruise his ego; although, he’ll never openly admit that.

when he does manage to wiggle his way into your heart, with his charming smiles, small gestures that you somehow misinterpret as kindness, you steadily fall for him. it’s not your fault, not really. geto is just that damn good at figuring people out; and with you, it wasn’t difficult. he found it remarkably easy to sway you, he almost felt bad.

almost.

the first few months are pure bliss; he picks you up promptly for dates, takes you to nice restaurants in the city, pays for spa days and shopping sprees — buys you things you never really allowed yourself to buy on your own, surprises you with lavish floral arrangements that make you cry needlessly over how tragically romantic he’s being. and, suddenly, your heart, which was so strongly protected, becomes vulnerable and falls under his control. it flutters around helplessly in the gilded cage he’s crafted for it — a too-tight fit, where every time you exhale you feel the thick bars pressing tightly and you suffocate — but still, love makes you think that all of this is worth it in the end.

as long as geto calls you his, that’s all that matters.

when he calls your phone, you pick up on the first ring, eager and desperate —to hear the dulcet tones embedded in his voice, the words saccharine and carefully picked; things you’ve always wanted to be told, he whispers them all to you before you fall asleep.

but the thing about geto is, boredom is never too far away from him.

it wraps itself around his arms one morning, slithers along and drenches his skin, completely warping his sense of morality — making him much more severe and uncaring than he normally is. all your cute, quirky traits become bothersome to him; he tires of your laugh, doesn’t care to see that sparkle in your eyes whenever he shows up at your front door, and listening to you drone on and on about things that you like bores him to tears.

when he fucks you, it’s impassively, as if it’s something he needs to tick off his list of weekly duties, rather than something he chooses to do because he genuinely wants to be intimate. you don’t question it at first, but it becomes painfully obvious — and awkward — when he leaves every time, not bothering to kiss you goodnight or even look your way. your mind is cruel one morning, when you reflect on how sex with geto is mostly about him getting off and not you; it never bothered you before, but as the months go on, it starts one of many tiny cracks in his veneer.

the rejection is unbearable — tangible in the way it makes you sluggish and depressed — but you deal with it; you must, after all, he’s the love of your life. you simply can’t imagine being with anyone else now.

geto becomes the very man your mother warned you about, but you ignore it without question.

love is work, you remind yourself for the umpteenth time as you sit in the back of your favorite restaurant, checking the time repeatedly and seeing that he still hasn’t shown. you’re in a modest dress with a slit down the side and you’ve already downed two glasses of wine without him. it’s been forty minutes, the server keeps checking on you, giving you pitying looks despite your smiles and insistence that your boyfriend is definitely on his way.

but the longer you sit there, the less sure of that you are.

eventually you leave; they don’t charge you for a thing and you thank them for their kindness — pity, really — and head home. you try calling geto and get his voicemail again; so you leave yet another teary message, this one more incoherent than the last two, and toss your phone onto your vanity before crying yourself the sleep. you don’t know what to do with this feeling — the hopelessness is eating you alive; or maybe it’s just the wine making you overly sensitive.

geto knows he’s an asshole and relishes in it.

he has his notifications silenced while he’s downtown with a few close friends, partying in an exclusive lounge, drinking until his head grows heavy. he doesn’t remember how he gets back to his place, and barely remembers who he fucked that night, but he does have the common decency to kick them out come morning. he’s hospitable like that. his head throbs as he scrolls through his phone, promptly ignoring the twelve texts from you and the fifteen missed calls. gojo called him heartless last night, which he thought was ridiculous — he has a heart, it just doesn’t always work properly; geto now assumes gojo was referring to his mistreatment of you.

something about that nags at him a little, so he decides to play nice and call you back. the phone continues to ring as he lounges on the plush couch in his living room, causing him to frown; very strange. you normally pick up for him right away, but you’re not answering. he should be concerned, but he chalks it up to you sleeping and decides to try again in an hour.

after his third time calling, annoyance turns into anger which fuels his petty jealousy.

what could you possibly be doing that would require you to ignore him — him — of all people?

“y/n,” he says as calmly as he can while his hand grips his phone tightly, it’s his fourth voicemail, but he doesn’t really care. “i don’t know what game you’re playing at, but i assure you… you won’t win.” he doesn’t elaborate past that, and instead throws his phone at the nearest wall — not bothering to pick it up once it clatters onto the hardwood floor. his anger surprises him; subduing certain emotions is an art for him, so all of this feels very new and uncomfortable.

he tells himself this weakness is only temporary, and that you’ll come to your senses too. except, you don’t. you don’t call him back; you don’t bother texting, and you don’t listen to his voicemails until three days later. when geto finds you, you’re in the middle of rewatching your favorite show for the tenth time, eating leftover pizza in your pajamas.

with his nose wrinkled, geto shuffles through your apartment, taking note of the pile of dishes in your kitchen and the way you’ve completely let go of yourself. he’s appalled that a woman like you has succumbed to the frivolities that accompanies hurt feelings. he even says as much to you when you fail to greet him or acknowledge his presence.

it's when he turns off the tv, that you blink several times, sluggish and confused before realizing that the beautiful man before you is not a figment of your imagination.

“suguru,” you sound his name out like it’s unfamiliar, your tongue thick from keeping quiet these past few days; your mind’s a mess, you’re still reeling from the betrayal of him clearly abandoning you, discarding you like you’re just a toy that he’s long forgotten on the street. he snaps his fingers impatiently in front of your face to get your attention again.

“wh-what is it?”

he frowns again. “what do you mean ‘wh-what is it’?” his mockery of your voice and his accompanying sneer is unbecoming of him, you think, but you don’t say that out loud; instead you put down the pizza you were nibbling and yawn languidly.

“you don’t have to be an ass,” you remark carefully, finally glancing up at him as though you’re seeing him for the first time. love muddled your vision, but now you can see geto suguru for all that he is. a liar, a conman, a shitty human being; but most importantly, he’s still the love of your life. you take that last bit seriously; maybe a little too seriously.

but love has a way of making you foolish in ways that are incomprehensible to others.

geto narrows his eyes at you before his lips twitch and he laughs at your insolence. “okay, that’s fair. i did stand you up, after all.”

you turn back to the tv and shrug, flicking a few crumbs off your shirt. “doesn’t matter. what’s done is done.”

for some reason, your apathy agitates him greatly. your tone is off — detached, devoid of the usual joviality that you have whenever he’s around; he figures that he deserves that, but he knows you won’t be mad at him for long. you never are.

“don’t get ahead of yourself, y/n,” his words drift through the air, venomous and well-practiced — he’s mastered the art of tearing down others without even trying — his annoyance reaches its peak when you ignore him and he exhales loudly, as if the entire situation has bored him to death. “since you obviously don’t give a damn about my presence,” he starts, not bothering to hide his malice or irritation, “i’ll give you what you want.”

which is space. permanently — at least, that’s what he thinks you want anyway. he slams the copy of your apartment key onto the coffee table — something that would’ve made you flinch days ago, but you’re so numb you barely notice.

it’s unbelievable that after a year, this is how you treat him; maybe it’s for the best that he’s breaking up with you. after all, he’d never be able to tolerate you having the upper hand in the breakup. still, it does concern him a bit that you’re not reacting in the way you usually would; did he honestly break your heart that badly that you’ve taken to retreating to the far recesses of your mind? not that it matters to him; you served your purpose and wore out your welcome eight months ago.

he just needed a reason to end it.

once he leaves, you feel like you can breathe again. and after a few minutes, you realize what just happened. you scramble off the couch, heart beating rapidly, palm slick with perspiration as you yank open the door and call out to him.

but he’s long gone; already driven off, ready to take on the world without you.

you wear your rejection like a bruise that won’t ever heal; each word said, each call and text ignored, is like a punch in the same spot over and over.

will you ever be able to move on properly?

it’s not really his problem if you can or can’t get over him, as he’s already moved on within the hour. the thing about geto is, he always assumes he’s the one in control — that he holds all the cards in his hands; but he isn’t. he forgets that you’re entirely too observant for your own good, curious, resourceful, and lethal when provoked long enough. you foolishly grab your car keys and drive to his place in the middle of the night; you ignore traffic lights, drive faster than necessary, swerve in and out of traffic as a fit of madness course through your veins.

love continues to delude you into thinking that there’s a way to fix it all; there has to be, it’s the only thing you can believe in right now.

you think about ringing his doorbell, think about calling and texting, think about just banging on his window and demanding he let you in. but you don’t. instead, you lean against your car, dark, heavy clouds looming over that part of the city as rain comes down hard and practically oppressively.

but you don’t move.

you stand there, shivering; soaked from head to toe, hands balled into fists — his last words playing over and over in your mind, like a song you can’t seem to forget. and every time you hear his voice, your heart shatters a little more; you imagine he’s having fun inside, laughing with gojo and whatever new flavor he’s decided to whet his appetite with. you want to give him the benefit of the doubt; maybe he’s having a bad week? maybe he didn’t mean to break up with you; but the longer you try to convince yourself, the sharper his betrayal becomes.

the truth is bitter, inedible, and harsh; it clamps around your mind as the remnants of your heart morphs into ash.

you bite your tongue hard enough to draw blood, but you don’t feel it; how can you, after all that’s happened?

eventually, you hop into your car and drive to your best friend’s house — she’s the only one you can go to, now that you’ve realized that geto is serious about leaving you. after pouring your heart out and downing a few more glasses of wine, your best friend takes you by the shoulders and shakes you repeatedly.

“y/n,” she says calmly, eyes soft and warm, “honestly, babe, you need to move on from him. is he worth all of this trouble?” you consider her question, roll your bottom lip in between your teeth before answering properly.

“of course, he is,” you say quietly, and then a little louder, “my love for him is so strong that i actually think i hate him.” you’ve never seen your best friend so speechless in your life, but there she is, unable to formulate an appropriate enough response to talk you out of this.

but the thing is, as soon as those words leave your mouth, it finally clicks; all the pieces to the jigsaw puzzle set perfectly in place. how could you have been so foolish?

you love him so much that you hate him, and your hatred is so strong that it can only be perceived as love. it’s irrational, maddening, incredibly toxic; but you revel in it. you know what you need to do, you just need time to do it.

days blend into weeks, and weeks to months; you sell your soul to get back your dignity, that determination that geto stupidly overlooked continuously fuels your quest for revenge. you disappear from the city, change your phone number, leave your apartment, and become a nonthreatening ghost from geto’s past. he forgets about you every time he sleeps with someone else, forgets about you whenever he goes on vacation, forgets about you as he whispers the same sweet things to another over and over and over again.

his ego is something to be marveled, and he feels a little unstoppable these days.

six months later, geto finds himself at a stuffy gala — one that his company’s holding to legally siphon money from the upper 1% under the guise of philanthropy — and spends most of the night dodging gojo’s questions over another failed relationship.

“you really don’t think you’re the problem?” gojo says in between sips of champagne, eyeing his best friend through his dark shades, and smiling as if he already knows the answer to that particular question.

geto lets out a frustrated groan and rolls his eyes. “i’m not doing this with you.” because the last thing he needs, is gojo killing his buzz. he glances at the people in attendance, dark eyes flicking over each guest, seemingly uninterested in any of them until you walk in.

he’s not sure it’s you at first, as your beauty captivates him in a way that doesn’t make sense to him. you’re in a pair of heels that look equal parts elegant and enticing, a shimmering, gold gown with a plunging neckline and incredibly high slit. the color offsets the warm undertones of your rich, brown skin that seems silky and otherworldly under all the lights in the room. geto blinks several times, almost as if he can’t believe that it’s you. and, if it wasn’t for gojo making comments about how he didn’t realize you had curves like that, geto might’ve believed you were a figment of his imagination.

how the tables turn.

your date escorts you to a table towards the back, one that’s close enough that geto can watch you properly. something about you is different. he’s not sure if it’s the confidence you exude as you smile coyly at some of the other guests, plump lips curving upward whenever another man asks to make your acquaintance. you keep your head held high, graceful, as if you belong with that crowd — even though geto knows you don’t. you’d never be able to come to an event like this on your own, but he isn’t upset about that.

what he’s upset at, is your date’s hand lingering on your thigh, thumb caressing your knee as he leans over to whisper something in your ear; that’s your cue to smile demurely and swat at his hand. the laugh is well timed — you even throw your head back, offering geto a full view of your elongated neck and round breasts that cling to the fabric of your gown. you excuse yourself under the guise of going to the restroom, and walk past geto without glancing at him — it’s difficult, you so badly want to turn and watch his reaction, but you keep strong, hips swaying as you take the first hallway on your left.

he’s not sure if it’s curiosity, jealousy, or insanity that drives him to get out of his seat and stalk after you. geto was done with you, he knew that — you knew that — but there he is, chasing you like some lovesick teen that can’t seem to get their unrequited crush out of their head. thankfully, the hallway is empty, so when he rounds the corner, he finds you standing there, checking out your reflection in your compact mirror. you feign surprise when you realize someone’s there, one that morphs into temporary confusion before you smile sweetly at your ex-boyfriend.

“well, isn’t this a fun surprise,” you say airily, a sly smile tumbling onto your lips as you make your way over to him. he’s somehow forgotten how to breathe while simultaneously forgetting that you always looked like this — overwhelmingly beautiful and alluring — he just insisted you dress plain on purpose. you like that he’s speechless; you like that his eyes haven’t left you since you walked into the gala. when you get close enough that he can see just how long and thick your lashes are, he finally snaps out of his stupor — somewhat.

“y/n,” he says belatedly, a bit of awe and amusement coloring his voice, “i’m surprised to see you.” what he really wanted to say, was that he’s trying to remember why he broke up with you in the first place — because nothing comes to mind. not when you reach your hand to delicately tuck a strand of his hair behind his ear, not when you intentionally place your hand on his chest, and call out his name softly, almost like a whisper before you take a step back.

“i changed my number,” you say in order to drive the point home and pluck your new phone out of your clutch. “and i moved, but i’d love to catch up with you.” he doesn’t say anything when you type your contact information in his phone and when your lips brush against his cheek, he’s reminded of just how much he adored you initially. he wants to ask why you’ve suddenly come back, but the words stick to the roof of his mouth — thick and impossible to remove, slowly rotting through his common sense. it must be some absurd act of possession that has him pull you close enough to brush his lips against yours; you relish in the nostalgia of the moment, with memories of him kissing you spontaneously during your dates — after all, you’ve been in this position so many times before.

the difference? your claws are sharper, dipped in one of the most potent poisons in the world — hatred.

but you have a role to play now: the naïve ex-girlfriend, who knew nothing of the world before meeting him. geto’s ego knows no bounds when you part your lips for him effortlessly, back arching as he runs his hand down it; his fingers are cool against your exposed skin and you shiver from the contact. he smirks at that, liking that he can still get that sort of reaction out of you. time is essential now, so you kiss him suddenly — your lips soft, supple, and sweet as ever.

geto uses that opportunity to slip is tongue inside of your mouth and familiarizes himself with your taste. you whimper softly and he smirks, thinking that he’s somehow won you over all over again, especially when you drag your nails down the back of his neck, scratching his skin without a care. they’re much sharper than he’s known them to be, and while the sting is tolerable, it’s also annoying. yet he can’t seem to pry himself away; your body feels perfect against his, and you surprise him once again when you rub your hand against his cock. geto’s never known you to be that bold before — and in public too? your kiss transforms into something much demanding, and before he realizes it, you’ve unbuckled his belt and unzipped his pants.

a heat passes through both of you — and you almost forget yourself as you fall into a familiar dance, kissing him fervently as you wrap your hand around his cock. it stiffens almost immediately, a painful reminder that he’s still impossibly attracted to you, despite what he told himself months ago. you get drunk off of the power you hold over him — the man who mercilessly crushed your heart and left you alone to deal with the aftermath — and have to remind yourself that you’re only supposed to tease him a bit.

his breathing grows uneven, and it’s comical how he’s forgotten that anyone can easily walk in on you two — he just doesn’t care. he’d fuck you in front of everyone just to prove a damn point. your hand strokes faster, twisting as it moves up and down his thick length, his skin hot and smooth, keeping you in a daze. it’s always been like that with you — getting so hopelessly caught up in him that you forget anything else exists.

a voice in the back of your mind tells you to slow down, but you ignore it — the thrill of feeling each jerk of his hips has you moaning into his mouth, breathlessly kissing him like you have all the time in the world.

except you don’t.

the reality of that hits you faster than you’d like, so you bite his lip hard enough to draw blood. you pull away after, almost innocently and lick the blood off of him. the move practically pushes him over the edge, and he has to tell himself that he shouldn’t try fucking you in that hallway. you do your best to catch your breath and blink slowly as you both look at each other. to give yourself a bit of an edge, you swipe your thumb against the tip of his cock and admire the precum on your hand. you bring it up your lips, tongue gliding against your skin to savor the taste of him. it’s a polarizing and captivating experience; something about that makes him want to kiss you all over again, but he refrains from doing so, instead focusing on tucking himself in and fixing his clothes properly.

if you were cruel, you’d take a picture of this moment — of geto with a slightly heaving chest, flushed cheeks, confusion etched on his face as if he doesn’t understand why he let himself get carried away like that. your lipstick is smeared prettily against his lips — red, intoxicating, and ominous.

you smile at that; happy that you’ve successfully integrated yourself into his life again.

“let’s… pick this up again sometime,” your voice has a strange lilt to it — coy and musical, dangerously sultry. his heart skips a beat, and he thinks he’s gone mad; geto doesn’t swoon or obsess the way others do for him. but you’re different now, much more interesting, and mysterious. he knows there’s something wrong with this picture, but he can’t seem to connect the dots just yet.

he doesn’t get another chance to talk to you, as your date keeps you busy most of the night; you don’t bother looking at geto until the end of the event, where you wiggle your fingers at him before leaving.

as soon as you get into your date’s car, you get a text message from a number you’ve memorized by heart and smile as you mentally list all the things you need to do before your revenge can be complete.

little does he know, you haven’t moved at all; you still own your old apartment, but you don’t stay there. you temporarily moved into your childhood friend’s place — a ritzy, luxurious high-rise apartment by the beach — while they travel for work out of the country. it’s all for show, of course; you need geto (and gojo, by extension) to think you’ve somehow elevated yourself financially, that you’re successfully integrated into similar social circles, that you can casually score invites to lavish events that cater to the wealthy elite. after changing out of your gown and into something comfortable, you decide to pay a visit to your old place; it’s mostly empty, save for your old bedroom.

you poured your savings into surveillance equipment, have monitors set up around the room, have hundreds of candid pictures of geto and the people he frequently associates with over the past six months plastered all along the walls. you’ve scribbled out his face in most of the pics, and have drawn lines and arrows, written incoherent notes to yourself — making connections and scenarios so that your contingency plans are unshakeable.

geto texts you again and you smile to yourself, loving the way you’ve already slithered into his mind after one brief conversation with him. he doesn’t realize you’ve been watching him all this time, doesn’t realize that you placed cameras in his home, doesn’t realize that you have unfiltered access to his computer and phone — it pays to have friends who dabble in those things.

you make some tea before sitting on the cushy computer chair as you watch geto stress over you not texting him back; you chuckle and spin around in your chair, elation building up in your chest, rattling that gilded cage around your heart. he’s so stupid, it’s almost too easy; you open the text thread with him, start typing out a bogus response for a few minutes, then delete it and leave him on read.

it takes him half an hour to really lose his mind over you not texting him back, and all you can do is laugh until tears fall out of your eyes.

you want him to fall so hopelessly in love with you, that you become his very reason for living and breathing. then you want to carve out his heart and leave him behind. a perfect plan, really; there are some kinks you still need to iron out, but you know, in time, that everything will go as planned.

uneasiness settles into geto’s stomach over the next few weeks; you barely text him back, and when he calls, you’re always busy. it’s foolish the way he’s pining after you; he knows it’s just because he hasn’t seen you in a long time, but something about you is just so… different. the way you abruptly cut conversations short with him, how you keep rescheduling lunch and dinner with him; how you intentionally let yourself be seen on social media with various men and women. and even when he wants to delete your number and block you, he can’t seem to do it.

because there’s no logical reason why he should be upset. you two aren’t dating anymore, this is just his lust-ridden brain taking hold of his common sense. or, that’s what he keeps telling himself.

when you do manage to see him for dinner one night, you tease him mercilessly and without remorse. at first, geto thinks he has control over the flow of the conversation. you keep blushing whenever he strokes your palm, giggle appropriately when he bumps his knee against yours, and act demure when he gives you permission to order anything off the menu. and you do; the guilt you used to feel is nowhere to be found, instead you thrive in the high that accompanies spending his money frivolously.

in return, you slide your foot up along his leg — slow and tenuous, the first course in your act to capture his heart completely — flirt heavily without restriction and encourage him to keep ordering drinks. geto grows tired of dragging things out and insists you continue the evening back at his place.

“oh,” you say softly and, after a long drawn out moment, your lips curve into a knowing smile.

after you’re both full and pleasantly tipsy, he takes you to his place; in his mind it won’t be long before he has you begging him to fuck you — and then he can finally be rid of this ridiculous obsession. you barely make it through the door because his hands are all over you, tugging roughly on your dress to take it off of you. if you weren’t so determined to see this through, you’d laugh — at his eagerness, at his annoyance with the matter, at your uncanny ability to fool him into thinking that you really want him back.

you lay on his bed, legs spread wide, arousal dripping from your folds as he kisses along the inside of your thighs. normally, geto is an incredibly selfish lover — but tonight, he busies himself with devouring you entirely. almost like he’s trying to make up for lost time. your skin is littered with bite marks and hickeys, but you don’t mind; a few battle scars are necessary in the long run. an unprecedented hunger takes hold of his mind — drives him to eat your pussy with vigor and passion. you roll your hips forward, nipples hard as you moan his name loudly.

he likes how you’re falling apart for him — and only him; you tug on his hair roughly, nails raking against his scalp when he flicks his tongue against your throbbing clit. you forgot that when geto puts his mind to something, he really puts in work; his cock is stiff, but he chooses to ignore it for the sake of watching you writhe on his bed, hand pulling on his bed sheet as soon as he slips his lithe fingers inside of you. he pumps them in and out, fast and hard; you bite down on your bottom lip to keep from screaming, but you lose your composure quickly.

the orgasm leaves you panting and whimpering, softly moaning when geto continues to lap at your pussy, despite how sensitive you feel. you get on all fours without prompting and rub your ass against his cock. the sight is erotic and has him gliding the tip of his cock along your wet pussy, an act that wholly surprises him, even more so when he barely gives you warning before driving his cock inside of your tight hole.

again, he wonders what is different; he’s fucked you more times than he can count, and yet this feels completely new — as if you’re not you, but someone else. and he’s so close to the truth, yet so far away that you try your best not to laugh, even as he powers into you over and over, his cock thick and imposing as his pace picks up.

he knocks his hips against you, strokes lethal but pleasurable. you hiss when he grabs a fistful of your hair, but you let him do it anyway — you want to bide your time before the big finale, of course. geto’s mind melts the longer his cock is inside of you, your plush, warm walls tight around him, squeezing in a way that has him moaning your name out loud.

it surprises him, actually, but he doesn’t stop himself; if anything, he’s more invigorated as he continues to fuck you like you’re the only one he ever thinks about. and, while it probably is true, you also know geto more than he knows you. he pulls out of you suddenly, half in a daze and entirely hooked on your body, and slaps your ass before telling you to ride him instead.

it's almost too easy at this point because this is exactly what you want.

you take your time climbing on top and rub your pussy along his length, grinding and rolling your hips teasingly. his frustration gets the best of him when he grabs your hips to hold you steady.

“y/n,” he warns, voice low and husky. you like him like this — too consumed with lust to realize just how much danger he’s in.

“i’m sorry, baby,” you say almost a little too convincingly, lifting up before sinking down slowly, his cock filling you up in the best sort of way. he’s in heaven, clearly; the way your cunt keeps sucking him back in, your arousal dripping onto his skin — your pussy is the gift that keeps on giving, he tells you offhandedly. you laugh and laugh and laugh, determined to snatch his soul out of his body every time you impale yourself on his cock.

his nails sink into your skin when he holds onto your hips, lifting his upwards to thrust inside of you deeply.

“you know, suguru,” your voice is breathy and hypnotizing, his eyes are glazed over and unfocused; you place your hands on his headboard, under the guise of holding on so he can fuck you properly, but really you’re reaching behind to grab the knife you’ve taped to the back of it. “you’re a shitty person.” there’s confusion etched onto his pretty face, and you chuckle darkly as you buck your hips against his and brandish the knife in front of him.

he'd noticed that it went missing from his set days ago, but figured he’d misplaced it.

“where did you get that?” he grunts when you clench your pussy around him, still riding him as if this is a common occurrence for both of you.

you continue talking as if he didn’t ask a valid question and gently tap his cheek with the flat part of the blade. “you broke my heart, turned my love into ash,” you ride him harder, your ass bouncing on his hips, and he’s much more aroused than he should be. which is alarming because he isn’t stopping you at all. “and you went about your life like i never mattered.” that part still hurt, and you don’t think as you hold the knife to his throat, the blade sharp enough that it knicks his skin when you lean forward.

he knows he should tell you to stop, but for some reason, it’s as if he’s paralyzed by your confession. he deserves it, he knows that, but you refuse to have any sort of sympathy for him. a bit of blood drips down his neck and you stab the blade onto his pillow, nearly missing his face. he actually fucking flinches and it makes you laugh again.

“you’re so fucking stupid,” you almost pity him. almost.

geto’s life literally flashes before his eyes. he’s never seen you this ruthless; the soft, demure woman he knew before is gone — in her place, is someone cold and demanding, someone who won’t hesitate to maim him if he toes the line.

his skin blanches and he swallows hard, words lodged deep in his throat. he doesn’t know what to say to you. “i—”

you run your tongue along his jaw, and grin triumphantly when he shivers uneasily. “you don’t get it, do you? you’re mine forever.” he wants to ask what you mean by that, but you don’t give him the chance. “i hate you so much, that i want to watch the life drain from your eyes.”

it’s morbid and unreal, but it feels right. “that’s also a form of love, right?” you’re not making any sense, and you don’t care; you’ve deviated from your plan — you intended to drag things out, but once he started fucking you and acting like he was running the show all over again, you snapped. “you’re mine forever, understand?”

he had every opportunity to grab the knife, to shake you off of him, but you keep moving your hips, keep moaning for him, and keep kissing him like you want to breathe in his essence. he’s trapped and probably will never find his way out; he realizes now, that your return wasn’t a coincidence. it was planned. it’s fear that keeps him on that bad, that lets you keep fucking him until you’re satisfied, and when he finally cums, you smile wickedly and pick the knife up again.

“there’s no one who will love you the way i do, baby.”

#⋆˙⟡♡ htbahb collab #jjk x reader #jjk x y/n #jjk smut #geto suguru x reader #geto suguru x y/n #geto suguru smut #geto x reader #geto x y/n #geto smut #‘i can change him’ 🥴#no tf i can't he ain't shit!!!#i love him anyway it's complicated #yandere reader #fic request #geto x black reader #jjk x black reader

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 6 months

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AITA for having double standards in my relationship?

Title sounds bad but hear me out. I (F27) am in a relationship with O (M26). We’ve been dating for nearly 2 years now, and for maybe 1.5 years of that we’ve had what we call our “arrangement”. Basically, I had a couple of friends with benefits before I started dating O, and one of them (Y, M29) made some comments to O at a party while I wasn’t around. It wasn’t very nice stuff, implying what I was like in bed, and O and I ended up leaving the party early.

When we got to O’s house, O told me about the stuff Y was saying. I thought he was accusing me of cheating, which was not the case—I hadn’t seen Y or any of my other FWBs since O and I started dating. It turns out O wasn’t worried about that, and we actually ended up taking for a while. I won’t get into it too much, but basically O liked the idea of me being with other people (that’s a very simplified version of the conversation). So our arrangement started, after Y apologized, which he did the next time he saw us, where basically I would still sleep with my FWBs and then, by O’s request, tell him about it.

It sounds like an open relationship, but this next part is where I think I may be TA. O doesn’t sleep around, only I do. It’s not that I don’t LET him (though I know myself well enough that I would probably get jealous), it’s just another part of the arrangement we both agreed on. I check in with O pretty regularly, like once a month, to see that we’re still on the same page, and he’s never expressed that he wants to open up his side of the relationship so to speak.

Everyone involved gets tested regularly, that’s not a concern, and O and my FWBs get along pretty well (we’re all part of the same major friend group). I don’t only sleep with them because O wants me to, but I would also stop if he asked me to, if that makes sense. But when I was telling one of my close friends about our arrangement, she said I was being hypocritical for “not allowing” O to sleep with other people while I was allowed to. I thought she just didn’t understand at first, especially because every time I’ve talked to O about it he’s been totally fine with how our arrangement is (he was even the one to bring up the idea in the first place!).

But lately I’ve been thinking about how O isn’t the best at openly talking about what is working and what isn’t in our relationship - it’s almost always me bringing things up, or another part of our arrangement that lets him say what he needs without outright saying it (sorry if that’s confusing, I don’t want to get too into the details). I’ve also been thinking about my own jealousy at the thought of him being with other people and how that’s probably unfair considering he doesn’t feel that way about me being with other people.

IDK. Maybe I’m overthinking it, or maybe I’m being hypocritical. So, tumblr, AITA?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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an-au-blog · 4 months

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An au where sanji cheats on charlotte pudding with zoro. But like not really. Is it cheating if u r about to be married off against ur will. Which is messed up. Sorry. But this has so much feelings. If u cd write as a one last time thing. A closure. He is forcefully being married off to her and one last time with zoro is all he asks for .

My first thought was... he wouldn't do that to a woman... but then I thought... well she's pretty honest about not wanting him though... plus - corruption happens gradually.

Idk how agreeable with the timeline hut uh...

EDIT!!! I started doing this in canon but then I stopped because I thought "okay, but this would be better in royalty au", so I started doing that. Sorry for taking a while. I haven't been on my usual groove lately:/

(ok, uhhh here I go making stuff up now)

Sanji had a bit of an on and off relationship, if one could even call it that. It started off as a moment of weakness but then they started enjoying the comforting touches, the hugs, the lingering kisses. It was nice to feel needed, wanted. And not long after, they became... something. Neither of them knew what... but it was something...

Then the WCI thing happened and Sanji felt more alone than ever. He heard how she talked to him behind his back. She started talking like that in front of him too. He was unwanted, unneeded. There was no Luffy, no Nami... no Zoro.

... ok so uh sorry, wait, royalty au now

Sanji was sent off to marry a princess. He had no idea who she was, but what he did know was that he'd get away from his family. Away from his brothers and father at least. That was enough. After his mother's death, his sister was the only one who he felt alright around.

At first he was so happy to have a chance with a beautiful girl like her. But whenever Sanji tried to meet her before the wedding, she told the guards to refuse him. During the wedding she acted sweet, but it seemed more like she was happy at the guests, rather than him. But he was sure it was fine. After the wedding she acted like he wasn't there. When they got to their bed chambers, she finally turned to him and told him she was "Oh, so tired, would you mind leaving the room for me just for tonight, husband dear?" And of course Sanji would! Sure it might have been a political arrangement, but he'd do all he could to be the best husband for her.

One night kicked out of his own chambers turned into two, turned into a week, turned into several months. She hated him. She didn't want to even look at him. Whenever he was in the room, she'd walk out, not even trying to make up an excuse. He would hang around the kitchens a lot, and from time to time he'd hear the staff whisper about how the mistress would talk badly about the mister. He would listen to all the insults she had said about him and how she wished he'd never been born.

It was better than living in fear of being attacked by his brothers or father... but he felt even more lonely.

He grew tired of having to listen to the servants talking about how she talked behind his back. Tired of having their eyes filled with pity on him every time he tried to distract himself with cooking.

He took a trip into town, he paid one of the servants to give him his clothes. Oddly enough the servants seemed to like him quite a bit. So at least he had some of them to cover for him (not that anyway would look for him).

He looked for a bar or restaurant. He had never actually gone out of the castle gates. No one offered to take him out for a tour or even tell him about his people. All he knew about the things around him was because of books and what he's asked from servants.

He soon finds a bar/tavern. Upon walking in, he bumped into someone. He was going to apologize, but then the man scowled at him. He looked dumb, with three swords and green hair. What a pretentious bastard.

Comments were exchanged and before either of them realized it, they were fighting. The owner of the bar/tavern came out - an old man with a braided mustache. He stopped the fight. Turned out that the moss-headed guy was named Zoro and was a bounty hunter, who was in town not for long. "Such a shame though," the swordsman said "I would've lived to spar again, you're almost like an equal."

"Oh yeah?" Sanji gave in "Come any time, I'd love to kick your ass."

"What do you know about anything, castle-loving freak."

Sanji stepped back at Zoro'z words. They were a joke, he was sure but how did he know? "Wh- what do you mean?"

"Isn't that the uniform of the castle servants?"

Sanji could breathe again. "Oh, yeah, I forgot to change..."

Time passed and each day Sanji would go to the tavern. The owner - Zeff, would let him cook in the kitchen sometimes. Zoro was there for a weeks woth of time and then left without a word. A shame, Sanji felt that they could have had a beautiful friendship... Life continued and not much changed. A year more locked out of his chambers, servants whispered about other people being more welcome in the young lady's room than her own husband. He didn't like that word anymore. It felt hollow when it came to her.

And then Zoro came along again. Sanji didn't know he could be that happy. They went back into a routine. Zoro left now and again for jobs, but the days of his absence started to get less and less. First it was several months, then five or four, until he decided to stay for almost a year in town. Sanji didn't want to hope too big, but he gathered up the courage to ask "why"? Why would he keep coming back to a town with no work for him.

Zoro didn't even try to lie that it was work. Sanji had seen him taking up small jobs and sleeping in the tavern for free. Sanji even tried giving him money, but he's as stubborn as a mule.

The swordsman looked at Sanji and told him why, it was "because you're here."

Sanji didn't believe it at first, he wasn't something anyone would want to stay or go anywhere. But then Zoro kept talking about how he wanted to take Sanji with him and travel. But how could Sanji say yes... how could he say no...

He said he needed time but Zoro took it as a no. He left and this time his voyage was almost as big as the first time. But when he came back, he wasn't alone.

Sanji didn't even notice that he was with other people. The moment he spotted him, he leaped into his arms and kissed him. He kissed him like he wished he did a year ago. He told him that he was an idiot and that he didn't mean it as a no, and then he heard the people behind him. Zoro introduced himself again, as the right-hand man of the future king of the pirates.

Luffy laughed and said "So you're the cook that my ship needs! That's so cool! Join my crew!"

#you gotta understand i am very tired and have been struggling with statistics for 3 days this is all i can do atm #zosan #zsz #sanji x zoro #zoro x sanji #royalty au #answers #op

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henkoukazue · 1 year

Text

Meeting you was a Blessing...

Summary: When polar opposites meet, everything becomes chaotic. Does coexisting will be just fine…. or rather much more difficulty?? We'll never know unless…

WC: 5.0k (not quite edited tho, and this will be quiet long so ready some snacks and tissues if needed ehe~)

Type: ONESHOT

Pairings: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader (*and slight Cynari<3)

Warnings: MDNI 18+, NSFW, suggestive/explicit content, possible mentions of SH (slightly??), Trauma (reader), Panic and Anxiety Attacks, Mild Depression, (...will add some after i complete this or y'all can give me suggestions huehuehue)

Tags: Alhaitham x Fem!Reader, Fluff, Smut, Angst kinda heavy??, miscommunication?, established relationship, slow burn (unsure), arranged pairing, mutual pinning, crack!fic, marriage (at fisrt you agreed to marry him bcs of your parents and... "of his high salary and stable job" but...), whipped!Alhaitham, slightly jealous!Alhaitham??, modern au (kinda.. idk), Kaveh and the other Sumeru boys and girls cameo, exploratory ff, might be ooc on the latter (yes.... I'm talking abt Haitham here BASHAHSHASHA idk tho, not sure)

a/n: This is my first time doing something like this and idk if this'll be successful, but I'm just doing this for fun and also like a stress-reliever (abt stuffs from school & at home😭😭 ....GOSHH i hate it here /jk) lmaoo and this is kinda like a self-indulgement ff sorry abt that I guess... I hope you all will also enjoy my writing. TYSMM!!🖤💚 ouhh and also, bfr I forgot, English isn't my first language sooo~ if there's any mistakes or errors lemme know my cinnamons <3

>> and also 'here' is a dabble of their domestic life awiee enjoy!!

There was a point in your life when you fantasized about having or being in a romantic relationship with someone, but... you learned through time that love isn't the only thing in the world. You relished the freedom and independence that came with discovering yourself. A soft sigh left your lips ‘It felt like ecstasy being out of the cage,’ you mumbled. Walking down the streets of Sumeru city, you spotted your closest pals since college. There were Candace, Nilou, Dehya, and Tighnari.

Candace noticed you and waved softly, saying, 'Looky here, our bachelorette is here!' Little chuckles escaped their lips. 'Heh, what are you guys talking about and giggling there?' you pouted and hugged them behind their back. You noticed your friend Tighnari blushing, looking at his phone and you inquired, "Eyy, are you and Cyno going out now?" eyes sparkled, and the others turned to look at him. He smiled nervously, then said 'Uhh yes, we are now officially going out now, but, please don't announce it to others yet. It's pretty embarrassing,' he says, straining his eyes shut. You were surprised that they were going out now, and the girls were as well, so you guys cheered 'Congratulations!!' ' to your best friend Tighnari, gaily.

—

You and your friends now bid farewell to each other. Now alone, a sudden call from your parents came. 'Uhm, hello? Mom, Dad? ' you answered. 'Why hello our dear sweetheart, have you found a man you'll mar----' your father interrupted what your mother was about to say 'Uhh hahahaha my, don't worry about that my child.' clears throat 'How are you doing now? ' He expressed concern. You let out a sigh. 'Oh, I'm doing well and.... You no longer need to be concerned. I'm an adult now, and I have a great job, even though I'm still living in that leased apartment'. 'Ohh, I see,' your father said, before the call fell silent. 'Darling—-' you cut off the phone before your mother begins to whinge about your love life once more (if you ever have...).

When you got closer to the apartment, you noticed your friend Tighnari's flower shop, where he and his lover Cyno were all lovey-dovey, and a faint smile slipped your lips. But after a minute, you felt a sharp pain in your chest, you came to a halt and sighed heavily. 'Man... I shouldn't be feeling this,' you said as you resumed your walk.

Now that you're inside the apartment, exhausted and sluggish, you just throw yourself in bed. 'I guess I'll go visit them and consider about that marriage they're talking about, and blah blah,' you muttered, closing your eyes shut. Dawn arrived, feeling the beams of sunshine on your face, you got up and started your just-so-normal daily routine and headed to work.

After an hour of dedicating yourself to your job, you rewarded yourself with some sweets and a cup of coffee at Puspa Café, which is also pretty close to your place. Knowing you as a regular, the owner immediately listed your orders and awaits you if you ever want to add something. 'Well then, mister, I'd like to take out some of your freshly made Padisarah pudding!' you said warmly. The owner then chuckled and said, 'All right, dear, your order is on its way!' Then motioning his hands a kind-of-salute gesture.

—

While you were leaving the café, you noticed that your phone was not in your purse, and as you looked around, you observed an ashen-haired man motioning something with his hand and muttering something. 'Miss! Miss! I believe this is your phone.' …..

'Miss umm, here, your phone,' he said slowly, motioning his palm over your face. You shook your head, 'Ohh! Ahh yes, thank you very much.' you nodded modestly and bid farewell to the man. 'Yes, you're welcome,' he mumbled under his breath, watching you with his bright teal eyes motioning out of the café.

It's that time of year again, summer. Because of that one phone conversation, you decided to pay a visit to your parents' house. 'Ughh, seriously, your mother? Why can't she leave you be? You're all good now and doing great, the fu---,' Dehya exclaimed, only to be cut off by a piece of bread Nilou shoved into her mouth. 'This woman! Aish,' Nilou sighed and glaring at Dehya with an expression saying 'What? What did I do wrong?'. Candace and you both laughed..... 'Well, then, what can I do? They're old and such, I assume they're simply worried about me.' Candace and Nilou gave you a pitying glance.

You were apprehensive about your journey to your parents' house because you knew your mother would nag you all day and all night about how you didn't have a relationship. As you arrived at the front door, you were debating whether to knock or go back when your father abruptly opened the door. '..... Oh. Ohh! Dear, goodness you're here. How's the trip?' He hugged you and you just plainly stated 'Well, it's summer and I'm on a break, so I decided to pay a visit since…. It's been a long time... I suppose?' an awkward silence filled the doorway.

The only thing that broke the silence was your mother clapping her hands. 'Hey, the two of you come on over here now, and how's the trip, my darling, how about a boyfriend?' You gave her a deadpan expression, indicating that 'Please, just shut up, I'm tired!' to only earn a small chuckle from the elderly man, your father.

Sitting at the dining table, memories of the past came rushing. You recall how this home and its people made you feel horrible as a youngster, how they used to control and mistreat you. You smiled bitterly at the memory. While you didn't notice it, your father, looking at you and clenched his fist under the table and kept saying, 'I'm so sorry, my dear,' who knows how many times. Breaking the awkwardness, your mother started. 'So, would you mind if we do an arrange pairing?' You shoot your heads up and look at your father and mother to only mutter, 'What?'

After some minutes have passed, your mother smiles, 'Well isn't it why you came here too?' …..your mother isn't wrong. You cleared your throat, 'Yes. I'm also here to discuss that arranged pairing and marriage thing you're so eagerly asking me for.'

A month later, a matchmaker was dispatched to your place, accompanied by your parents. Still can't process what is happening, although you agreed to it that you’ll do the arrange pairing, you let them in.

The session was then initiated by the matchmaker. She asked you quite numerous questions, and some of those were; 'What do you wish for in your life to be my dear?' gently staring at you... 'I want a tranquil life where I can exhibit my independence, value space from each other, and the partner who will be partnered with me is also committed,' you gulped, ending with a shaky voice. The old lady giggled softly and delicately wrote it down on her vintage paper. Then she again asked another one, 'What is the thing that interests you the most?....it might be from the past or currently.' She smiled again, assuring you to be true to yourself. 'I-- I like books and anything that I think is very valuable,' you looked down, turning pinkish-red. The old matchmaker then pursues you to say it. You inhale, regain your confidence, and continue, 'I also adore deep sea creatures...... if that makes sense.' you awkwardly smiled. She then resumed her writing.

—

You hurriedly go towards the elderly matchmaker and, of course, your parents, as usual. You grumble in a low tone upon seeing them. The matchmaker then motions with her hands for you to enter the room and address the matter, but this time your parents are not present, so you feel relieved.

You noticed the man standing near the furniture set reading something about literature after slightly opening the door. He then noticed your presence and politely nodded, as you do so too. The matchmaker then instructs the two of you and tells you what topics you will be discussing before leaving.

'Oh, um... Hello, pleasure to meet you,' you said as you extended your hand in a handshake. The man then accepted it and said, ‘Same here, I'll be in your care then, my partner?’ Your body became stiff by hearing his voice. He then felt your hands stiff, so he released your hands gently and said, 'Are you alright?’ looking straight at you with eyes which remained neutral. You, startled by his stare, so you shifted your sight to the window and murmured something. Him the observant he is, noticed you again but didn't do anything and let you be. He's not sure as to why he gave in to his deceased grandmother's will that at that age, he'll go to meet a matchmaker and be paired to the person he'll remain for the rest of his life, love, and cherish him.

A day turned into a week, a week turned into months, and then those months turned into a year. Now, him helping you move out to his house, you asked midway at the entrance door. 'Umm, about the wedding ceremony, when was it again?' looking at him neutrally, like you have no any interest in it whatsoever. 'Hm, I think it will be expected 8 weeks from now?' He looks up at the sky, then yours. '..... Alright, do you have any guests you'll have invited? Moreover our wedding will only take place in the government office.' He looked at you blankly for a few seconds before saying, 'No. I don't,' he says as he walks inside….

The time then has come, the two of you then recited your vows and filled out the papers prepared by the clerk for both of you and your parents. Of course, no honeymoon occurred; instead, you and him organized some of your belongings and the entire house now that it is occupied by two people.

After three years of marriage, you've gotten used to each other's habits and company. He occasionally notices you dancing while cooking and humming a song, noting mentally that you're having a nice day, just to elicit a small genuine smile, noticing it and contemplating at himself why he did that.

You also had the impression that someone was watching you from behind while you were cooking, so you stopped whenever you noticed your husband's presence in the kitchen or when he took a sip of his coffee nearby.

'.......' sips coffee, 'What are you cooking?' he said. Startled by the man you yelped and said in return, 'You! You almost gave me a heart attack there! Ohh, I'm cooking Sabz Meat Stew, the one you said is your favorite.... yes?' only to receive a blank expression from the man and one brow slightly raised. 'Hmm~ okey.' then leaves the room.

You pondered, 'Huh? The hell??'

Alhaitham grumbled after he woke from his peaceful slumber. He recalled that he had a job today. He then got up lazily and looked back at the bed to only see you snoring (not that loud), although from the looks of him, he thinks you are cute.

As usual, he didn't feel tired or anything in his office corner, but it was quickly shattered by his senior approaching him, and a former housemate, Kaveh, the star of the firm, renowned as the passionate designer with exquisite taste in arts and romance. Alhaitham scoffed, 'What?' glaring at the platinum-blonde haired man. 'Ugh, save that glare for later, will you!?' Kaveh exclaimed. Putting a bunch of papers at his desk. 'Here. This needs to be approved today so do it now, alright?' The man earned a minute of silence, then Alhaitham spoke up, 'Alright then. Now go.' Kaveh, being used to his antics responded, 'Bah! Alright, alright I'll go now~'

—

'Great. Now I can have peace,' Alhaitham whispered as he walked to the nearest café in the company. He then spotted Puspa Café and, shortly after, he noticed you with your friends. But he didn't approach you, he simply chose to observe you from afar.

After finishing your job at the library, Tighnari, your friend, messaged something at your group chat, saying that 'Guys, I'll have you all meet my boyfriend today, of course if you guys are free.' You smiled at your phone and waited for others to reply, then you saw Nilou's message, 'Yes we are all free today, where do you want us all to meet up? ^^ .' You then added, 'Me too, just concluded my work.'

You met Dehya first and welcomed her after all of you agreed to meet at Puspa Café. As is typical, Dehya has always tried on make-up with you and the girls since your college years, as she is doing just now, claiming boredom while waiting for the others. After a few minutes, you two noticed the other three and waved your hands where you were seated. 'Eyy, Tighnari, where has your boyfie gone? 'Dehya said. 'Hahah, Dehya, wait a minute, I'll go fetch him outside,' the man said as he ran out of the café.

After a minute of waiting, you and the girls see a tanned man joyfully conversing with Tighnari, all lovey-dovey. 'Yuck,' muttered Dehya in another hand. ‘I wish I was too sheesh, good for them I guess?' She shrugged, glancing at us, only to get a nudge at her side from Nilou. 'Oof-- the hell?'

Tighnari then waved and exclaimed, 'Guys! This is my boyfriend Cyno. Hope you all will be well acquainted with each other! ' smiled. Nilou approached Cyno first and enthusiastically handed him a handshake adding, 'I am very delighted for the two of you, that you are now officially going out!' Cyno then nodded and chuckled. ‘Thank you~’ said Cyno. Candace and you then bestow your blessings on the pair. Finally, there came Dehya, who looked at them with critical eyes. 'Hey, is there something wrong?' Tighnari said, tapping Dehya on the shoulder. Then Dehya looks at them both. 'No, nothing. I'm just happy for the two of you. But. BUT! If you Cyno--' pointing her index finger at his chest, 'I won't forgive you, okay? Don’t hurt my bestie.' Then Cyno chuckled and said, 'Heh, you can trust me lady,' and grinned silly at her.

—

Your husband was observing you guys from the other side of the café when he noticed a familiar figure. Slowly closing his eyes. Not sure whether he's seeing things correctly, but after repeating it a few times, he seemed astonished (although, actually kind of shocked lol). He then tried to go in your direction, only to be halted by his senior. 'Ugh...' Alhaitham exclaimed in his mind.

'Alhaitham!! I've been looking at you everywhere in the office. Remember how you agreed to have lunch with me today? You also said that someone's cooking delicious food for y----!!' Alhaitham then shoved his hands in his colleague’s mouth to show how annoying Kaveh is to him. He sought to hide somewhere when he noticed your presence approaching him. And silly Kaveh, left there standing, questioning what the hell is going on with his junior.

Alhaitham returned to your shared house and discovered that the lights were turned off and the room was chilly. Traversing the living room, he noticed a loud thud in your shared bedroom on the second floor. When he arrived, he noticed you weeping and.... you have a cut on your wrist that seems to be quite deep.

He embraced you ever so delicately as if you were about to crumble at any minute, trying to calm you down before asking any questions. Hearing your sobs go down, he then caresses your locks.... very soft locks. Didn't have the time to question what happened seeing you calming down and noticing you about to fall asleep in his embrace, he carefully lifts you up and places you on the bed. Looking at you, his heart breaking as he saw your state, he got up and cleaned and bandaged your wrist wounds.

—

Morning came, you noticed something on your hands. It was your husband, Haitham. You were taken aback by the sight, carefully releasing his calloused hands, which were securely entwined with yours. You were startled by your husband's unexpected motion and questioned, 'Uhh.... What- what happened?' face turning pale, smiling awkwardly.

'........., well aren't you the one who needs explaining here? My wife?' eyes widened by the sudden call of a familiar address. You gazed at his eyes, dazed, still taking in what he had just spoken. He softly bumped his forehead on yours, while you, bobbing your mouth open and closed. 'Take your time, anytime you are ready, my wife.' Again, your eyes widening, oblivious to a torrent of tears exiting your gorgeous eyes. You wept incessantly and were put back to sleep.

Alhaitham then began informing your coworkers at the library that you will be absent today due to you not feeling well… called Cyno to inform Tighnari and some of your friends.

You were back at work a few weeks after that event. Your coworkers begin to wonder who the man who contacted them that day was and what your relationship was with him. You ignored their queries and just stated, 'Enough of this chit-chat, remember we're at work, keep it for later,' before continuing to arrange the shelves. Quite embarrassed, you asked the Chief Librarian if it was okay to take your leave early today. The elderly then kindly nodded and waved you goodbye.

—

Alhaitham is waiting outside the library. He then glanced at Cyno and said, '.... What exactly do you want to know? ' while he was reading his book. Cyno, on the other hand, peered at him for a few minutes before saying something. 'I've been meaning to ask you this question, Alhaitham.... My lover claimed they didn't know you, and his friends wanted to know what your relationship is with her.' declared unequivocally.

'I-- we are married.... that is all I have to say.' Then continue reading where he last left. Cyno was taken aback, his mouth agape slightly, by what he heard from the man who is reputed to be distant, intellectual, dislikes small talk, and is difficult to engage with. '.... Cyno, please stop being so animated, you're not funny.' he said flatly, without glancing at the tanned man. 'I know you're joking. It was a great one, but—-' ,Cyno utter, only to be cut short by an impending disaster that Alhaitham despised oh so much (lmao sorry my bbg).

It was none other than Kaveh, his senior.

'Hey! What are you two talking about leaving me for? 'Kaveh remarked, not entirely aware of the very kind-of-awkward situation happening at the moment. ‘Huh? What?’

You, on the other hand, witnessed the scene. Ears turning flushed pink. 'What? WHAAAT!?? 'You exclaimed in the back of your mind as you walked straight to where your husband was, Haitham.

'My~ hello there Cyno.' you stated, smile feeling forced. '.... Oh. Ahh! Hello.' he nodded and glanced at you and Alhaitham, dazed. Kaveh, taking in what is going on. 'OHH!! Wait, wait, wait, wait!! ' shooting a surprised and uncharacteristic kind of glare at Alhaitham. Kaveh trying to connect the dots as to why you, a very beautiful— no, ethereal lady— would marry this man whose only interests are books and knowledge.

Two men are astonished by what is happening right now. Alhaitham then smoothly held your hands and excused, 'Uhh, apologies but me and my wife have to go now.... Bye.' walking out their way, the two men stilled on that very spot, gaze following you both, mouth twain agape.

The next day, you were greeted by your friends at the front door.

Flabbergasted by Candace by abruptly holding your shoulders and shaking you, 'Waaaaah our- our baby is married! Since when? AAAAA!!' Dehya in the back restrains her snickers since it's uncharacteristic of Candace. Then you gaze at Nilou, tears welling up in her beautiful blue-ocean eyes.

'Uhmm, I--' stopped by Dehya, 'NO! Let us in first.' then eyeing every corner of the house, finding where your said husband is. '..... My husband isn't here. He's at work right now.' Suddenly Dehya turns around and runs in your direction, exclaiming, 'Whaaat!? You're not lying, are you?' gasped loudly and animatedly. Nilou and Candace both chuckled at her sudden reaction.

—

You and your friends were seated at the sofa. Calmly explaining what and how it happened, then there's Dehya asking. 'Sooo, did you guys do it?' The other two women were stunned by what Dehya said, and Nilou responded, 'Sorry about that,' she smiled at you and smacked Dehya on the head.

You gave a forced smile and responded, 'Heheh, however we did not. And we don't even have feelings for one other...' you gaze down, a familiar aching in your chest welling up. Nilou notices it and pats your back. 'Actually.... I- I think I have feelings for my husband, however..... I think if I say it to him and announce it, he'll be appalled by the concept.' Tears well up in your lovely eyes. The females listened to you and offered words of sympathy.

—

When night fell, you were alone, waiting for Alhaitham. Thoughts from a while ago flooded your head, and thinking about them just made you feel upset again. So you went to your shared bedroom, covering your mouth to prevent sobs from escaping your soft lips, duvet covering you.

Alhaitham was drained after working overtime, now on his way home. He sluggishly put his shoes on the rack. Afterwards starts waltzing to find you and notices the bedroom door is slightly ajar. Alhaitham heed the quilt trembling; he then patted it. You, startled, you stopped moving and tried to make your voice not too strained from crying. 'Ohh! Welcome home Haitham. I'm sorry I wasn't able to cook for you, I wasn't feeling well.' Then the next thing that happened is that silence fell upon the room.

'........ Umm, Haitham?' you said still under the quilts. You tried to peek since you weren't receiving any reaction.

Alhaitham, being the person he is, saw an opportunity as you attempted to peek, a small smile escaped his lips. 'What are you doing? Hiding there and all.' looking at you with an unreadable expression. You gasped by the sudden touch at your hands by his. Flailing from his iron grip, but can't unfortunately, you accept defeat.

'I have a question.... and I'd want to say something to you.' Upon hearing that, your thoughts are clouded with pessimism, and you begin to wonder what he is going to say. Him observing your figure under the quilts, shaking. Without any further ado he started, 'I know you didn't want this kind of life, and that…. your parents made you do it..' He sighs, then says faintly, 'but—' suddenly a sob escapes your trembling lips. Surprised by it, you swiftly cover your mouth.

Alhaitham reacted quickly, pulling the quilts down to see you weeping uncontrollably. When he saw you in that state. His heart were shattered into pieces seeing you in that condition.... He hates it, he hates seeing you cry.

He daintily wiped your tears away and kissed you on the temples and next your forehead, also cupping your cheeks. You, on the contrary, are at a loss for words, mustering the confidence to speak up, 'Hait—-!!!' a quick sweet kiss pressed against your plump lips.

'Ahh!' You gasped, both lips parted, and the expression on his face was lustrous, though he kept the neutrality in it. The abrupt realization of what is happening causes your cheeks to heat up. 'Ahhn, Haitham! AH!... Wait, no, please!' squirming out of his towering figure.

—

Hands began to trace your contours, as if in adoration. Alhaitham then pulls your skirt's waistband...... and then your undergarment. A moan left your now swollen lips from the kiss as you felt his cold fingers under your skin. The ashen-haired man grins, the hue of his eyes darkening by the second.

'Hah~ Ah! ahh.... Nghh.. Haitham.' you looking at him eyes half-lidded. The gaze you gave him drove him over the edge. He couldn't wait any longer, so he began to slip his digit into your aching folds. 'AHHH! ' left your quivering lips, body trembling from his penetrating satisfaction. The way you called him in your angelic voice has skewed his judgment.

The unexpected stretch made your honeypot tighten even harder as he inserted another two of his digits. 'Hah~ so good for me.' Alhaitham can't contain his smirk from making you feel good. He then began to pace his digits faster, motioning where you felt the most ecstasy. Mind becomes hazy, don't know what is right and wrong. 'Hahh, please....' you said ‘I- I want it inside.. AHH!.. nghh mn... of me now.' The thrill has caused your eyes to close.

Alhaitham drew away, as if taking mercy on your predicament, or perhaps his desperation had reached its limit. Tears welled up in your eyes as he positioned his length with your thirsting cunt. He slowly pushes it inside then outside of your sobbing cunt. 'Aghh! S- so tight and... hah~ warm.' You can hear him growl near your ears, feeling the closeness and warmth of each other's bodies.

Shaky hands grasped their lover's toned back. A growl broke from his chest as he dove into your arms, his length thrusting completely into you. 'OH!' you mewled out from the stretch of his length, nails digging at his back and his shoulder blades.

Alhaitham feeling your walls clenched violently at his length, merciless pistons and teases your cunt with slow and deep thrusts. Nothing interrupted the pistoning of his hips as he fucked you through your orgasm. Slapping of skins and the thick musky scent of your both filthy actions filling the room.

Feeling the knot in your stomach starting to form, you attempted to move your hips only to be halted by Alhaitham's unrelenting grasp on your thighs and hips. When he became aware of your foreboding knot, he drew his length out at your sobbing folds. Holding your thighs up, positioning unto his shoulders, he started to lick the honeypot that was presented to him.

‘Ah-hh ahh~’ Alhaitham kept slurping all those liquids out. You whined loudly at him, vocalizing your exhaustion, as you felt his warm breath on your folds and his tongue tease ruthlessly.

‘.... no.’ Left his mouth. 'Huh?' You exclaimed, your consciousness beginning to waver. '....... I'm not done yet.' hazy scarlet eyes, now noticeable.

—

His pace was suddenly much faster, harder, and deeper. You clung on to dear life by strengthening your grip on his shoulder blades and your thighs on his enticing hips. He bit at your delicate neck, feeling his locks in your neck, as he neared your release and his. Squelching noises and moans filled the entire room once more. Eyes now rolling back from the overwhelming pleasure, back arching, mind went blank, limbs were limp, and nerves fried.

Alhaitham panting steadily at your shoulders, length still buried inside. You felt him stir, straining against the bed to unpin you from his frame, after a few more coarse pants and feverish breaths. ‘Hnn~ ahh-h… Hahh~’ you utter.

Pulling out his length, you could feel a thick string of mixed slick connecting through his tip and to your hole.

Your consciousness started to drift for real amidst the exhaustion you two had experienced a while ago. Alhaitham then shifted gently your sleeping form to the side, covered you with quilts, and walked out of the room.

As you awoke, you felt a sharp ache in your chest. When you tried to move your numb body, tears began to stream from your eyes, and then it turned into loud choked sobs.

Alhaitham was sipping coffee in the living room when he heard you weeping. He dashed into your shared bedroom and held you with great care, assisting you to sit up at the edge of the bed. He holds your hands softly and gently strokes the back of your palms, you still crying.

He inquired as to whether you were in pain or experiencing breathing difficulties, only for you to look away from his concerned gaze. Alhaitham felt that pang in his chest again, and after overcoming his guilt, he asked you again what you wanted.... him suddenly remembering, that you like your personal space. You didn't even spare a glance at him, just straight up responded, 'I- I.....' you then started to cry uncontrollably again.

—

His warmth in your hands disappeared, and his blurry figure walked out of the room. It makes you feel hopeless, but then he returns a minute later. You asked about seeing the shining thing on his palm, '.....what- What is that?' with a lethargic tone of speaking.

Alhaitham then queried with a breathy sigh; despite the fact that you can't see his face well due to your tears, you can tell he's nervous. '.... This.... is a wedding ring.' Your eyes widened as you looked up at him. He grinned now that he had your attention, you looking at him. 'I want to be your husband, not just legally, but also until we grow old and witness our child have a blissful life.'

'........ Wahh!? 'Not knowing what to say in response, you tried to move and hug (??) him, only to stumble. Yet in a breath of the wind, he caught your numb naked body. You then began to cry again at his embrace, nodding enthusiastically. 'Yes, yes! I- I'll marry you and make you my lawfully married husband and life partner… I do!!' You exclaimed, tears streaming down your cheeks, the man earning a smile from you ear to ear.

Truth be told, the sight was very silly because your clothings were all over the floor and your mattress was a mess. Yet, love triumphs when two individuals declare their adoration for one other.

Fin.

©️henkoukazue DON’T PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY, REPOST, OR TRANSLATE ANY OF MY WORKS. exclusively only to read on Tumblr. thank you.

s/n: huaaah~!! now that it's finished i can now rest heheh :'D also hope you all enjoyed my fic,, and sorry again for the errors & everything. bahh! this was really hard to do (although it just took me 2 days😑lol), my brain was really jagged making this heuhusehu.. well that's all for now and the drabble for this will be updated who knows when (very soon) >v^)//✨✨

QUICK NOTE...!! QUICK NOTE! QUICK NOTE!!! yep this fic (some parts) were rushed, i'm very very sorry abt that fr and judgements or criticism even are accepted, feel free ;-) i take it as advice to further improve my writing skills, vocab and such tysmm!!

136 notes · View notes

duplicitywrites · 2 months

Note

Thank you so much for replying to my other ask! I completely understand not wanting to revisit a fic you had wrote when you weren't doing the best, and I hope you're feeling better now! 🩷 I adore 'evermore' so much even though it's quite depressing aha 🥲 The way you wrote Harry's mental health and escapism was so good and Id love to hear some spoilers if you were up to it 😅

One thing I love about fanfic is the freedom of it all, and like you said "What is fanfic if not an ode to writing that felt unfinished?". Your interpretation of Harry as an abused child at his core in works like "damaged" always get to me. It always felt weird in the HP book series that Harry had such an awful childhood and was as well adjusted and happy in the future.

Another one of your works I was really interested in is 'perfect boys with their perfect lives', the Harry/Cedric aka a certain dark lord one. It really had me thinking about what could have happened in the graveyard if Harry hadn't escaped 🫣

i am, thanks! it was around covid, which was an awful time for everyone i'm sure, with weird life stuff piled on top of it.

i was going to answer all of the ones you mentioned, but evermore is actually one of few stories i have planned out in detail. this is why it has a planned chapter count (though that hasn't stopped me from going overboard before lol).

i guess i'll just give you the whole thing in case i never finish it kljsdgkljdgs it's pretty long, so under a cut it goes! but first some context for everyone else:

🍃 Evermore

Tags: Alternate Universe, Unhealthy Relationships, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Manipulative Relationship, Infidelity, Past Child Abuse, Dream Sequences, Depression, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Plot Twists, Happy Ending, Surprise Ending, Healing

Summary:

Harry is a married man who is living a charmed life. He has no need for the fantasy potions gifted to him by the Weasley twins—or so he thinks. After falling asleep on the train ride home, Harry dreams of the perfect man, a man named Tom Riddle. As Harry explores his dream life with Tom, he realizes that his actual life is not as charmed as it seems. The pristine image of his faultless marriage shatters, revealing a darker reality, and Tom Riddle becomes an oasis, a sanctuary for Harry to escape to. However, no sanctuary is eternal and no oasis is truly perfect. Harry must eventually confront his demons, inner and outer, before he can find real happiness for himself.

Notes:

these notes are arranged in order from where the most recently posted chapter left off.

there are probably some divergent points that occurred during the actual writing process, but this plan below (i'll admit i'm not quite brave enough to reread it all) is what the general storyline will be.

reality four - right where you left me

maybe harry's been harbouring fears of his potions being found? :thots: or his husband's made note of his changes in behaviour, accuses him of not spending time/being devoted

they get into an argument where harry gets a looooot of shit for stuff he doesn't deserve to get shit for, stuff that's not even true

harry yells back but gets hit, idk if by magic or not :thots: and he backs down, distraught. then once he's alone, he goes straight for the dream world

dream four - no body no crime

it'll be a much shorter version obviously, and the character roster won't be the same

i hadn't nailed down the specifics of the background and so i'm not sure how it'll look, exactly

harry is NOT married in this dream, he knows dream-husband but they are only friends

dream-husband is ginny's role in this particular iteration

but the climax of this scene is where harry is snooping around in the house, where he happens upon the dream-husband's diary

he's been looking for evidence to prove the murder

harry reads through the diary

and in the diary are tragic entries describing depressive thoughts, details of emotional (maybe even physical) abuse, etc.

this is a pivotal moment for harry, who up until this moment has been in denial about the failings of his real life marriage

reading this in the framing of it happening to someone else is enough for him to realize that it's wrong

what happens to him is not okay

but of course it's not that easy to just, shrug off years of marriage all at once; harry once again exits the dream, thus ending that particular dream universe

he's partly in denial but it's not as bad as before

he's been using the dreams as a coping mechanism up until this point

i've made it sound kind of frustrating but the dream worlds that harry goes to are meant to be very lush, romanticized

while we realize that harry's dream worlds are not ideal, he doesn't realize it right away

he thinks he's still doing something wrong

reality five - coney island

uh so next is probably another real life scene which shows tension between harry and his husband, only harry is no longer acting the way he did before aka accepting things without question

after the dream, harry starts to... notice things. he picks up on the slights, on the manipulative behaviours. he doesn't argue back for most of it, because he's still figuring it out and he's in shock, but he does start acting differently, which is noted by his husband

it escalates things further, a landslide of 'harry is no longer listening to me, is no longer under my control' type of deal where it results in more attempts to manipulate, which harry now sees is bad

voldemort grew addicted to power, made deals with politicians, gained a following

he looks back on past events and picks out the red flags, realizes that his marriage is not a marriage of equals. but just because harry knows these things, doesn't mean he knows what to do. he goes back to the dream world for comfort/answers

dream five - cowboy like me

this one is 'cowboy like me'

harry is there with his husband staying at a hotel, they happen across dream-husband, who is a con artist attempting to swindle an older woman

either harry is also a con artist in a similar vein, or he is mistaken for one - i'll probably decide once it's written out and i get a sense of the vibe

but he and dream-husband have some interesting conversations, flirting, etc

the theme of this dream i think will be further strengthening the similarities between harry and the dream-husband he's made up in his head

this dream ends with a bittersweet farewell

something along the lines of, despite their attraction for each other, they must part ways? :thots: or some other thing

but there will be a bit of a cheeky 'see you soon'

aka referencing the fact that it's a dream/dream world, that the dream-husband is a recurring character in harry's mental space

reality six - happiness

harry's down to two vials now, the bittersweet farewell of dream five has him realizing that time is running out in the metaphorical sense; we understand that soon he will need to make a choice

i might loop back to infidelity at this point, maybe in an attempt to bring harry to heel, his husband starts flaunting an affair? :thots: cause in the past, flirting with other people probably worked to make harry upset and easily manipulated

but y'know now harry is armed with his brand new knowledge of Marriage Should Not Be Like This and also he's got some shiny self-worth stored up, courtesy of dream-husband

dream six - ivy

in this dream world, harry is married to his current husband, but he is having an affair with the dream-husband; not in the sexual sense, but in the emotional sense. drawing on the dream five, harry is seeking comfort and solace from his bad marriage

this dream is meant to remove more of harry's doubts and encourage him to see that his current situation is bad

and i imagine we start to break through the fourth wall; dream-husband speaks directly to harry, referencing real life events that have occurred

he encourages harry to leave

harry is doubtful, obviously. this is all he's known and he's been gaslighted, manipulated, mistreated

he's terrified he will be found out and punished for it

but the dream-husband reassures him, promises him that things will be okay, etc.

he makes harry promise to take care of himself

and i'm thinking in true romantic sense, maybe they spend the night together? :thots:

reality seven - closure

we solidify that harry deserves better, that what has happened is not his fault, etc all the important, healthy things

we have harry reaching out to the people that have been slowly pushed out of his life (mostly by his husband). he’s reconnecting with them, being healthier, i think this section would end with harry going to ron and hermione and telling them the truth, telling them everything

harry is down to his last vial, so he's been saving it

like, he could obviously go and get more, they would give it to him for free, even, but you know it's kind of like

he shouldn't have to rely on that as a coping mechanism any more

dream seven - evermore

i'm thinking harry goes for one last dream, they sit together outside(?) or somewhere else that has significance for harry

they hold hands, harry talks about how much the support has meant to him, what he's learned about himself, what these dreams have taught him

sometimes things don't work out

he knows he needs to walk out and move on

i'll probably cry writing all this so you know it'll be good

the end - it’s time to go

then like i mentioned before, there will be a scene of harry signing divorce papers. his friends are with him, telling them they support him, and he feels... relief. he feels hope.

the story ends with harry attending a party, this time by his own decision. he's here to genuinely mingle with people, with his friends, and have a good time

and then he sees someone

much like the previous dream, it's someone who he once knew

they talk, they catch up, but this time it doesn't feel odd or uncomfortable

harry feels secure with himself, and we end on the hopeful note that this could go somewhere good

#asks #anonymous #evermore au #this story still does mean a lot to me #i'd like to finish it

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nicoline1998enilocin · 7 months

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So my request would be for ransom.

Male reader (23) bratty soft dom top to a stuck up needy bottom Ransom (26)

Reader graduated art school for illustration but has been just living art life as a ceramics teacher when gets a call from his family about the arranged marriage between him and ransom that was signed over from both their parents when they were kids. For readers family is also another publishing house mainly for graphic novels etc.

Reader and Ransom meet up at thrombes after many years bickering about how they don’t wanna be married. They have rings they have to wear as fiancés before the wedding and cnat have outside relationships.(ransom pissed about that)

Reader goes back to work. Ransoms shows up one late evening as reader is cleaning up and gets on readers nerves and then turns spicy 🥵

They have to go to another dinner at thrombey and reader defends ransom against his drysdale and thrombeey family. Ransom likes that and is falling hard for the reader but ignores it for it’s an arrange marriage and such

But as per the contract have to live together feelings bubble up during a fight and ransom confesses to the reader and runs away cuz he doesn’t know how to deal but reader returns feelings and stuff! Idk I’m not good at writing!!

But yeah!! Love how u write sub ransom!! -⚡️⚡️⚡️

A special bond

PAIRING | Sub!Ransom Drysdale x Soft Dom!Male!Reader

WORD COUNT | 4.2K

SUMMARY | You're forced into an arranged marriage with the one and only Ransom Drysdale, even though neither of you likes the other. After being forced to be close to one another, the tension keeps rising, and it all takes a steamy turn once one of you finally snaps and gives into their feelings.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Angst, arranged marriage to lovers, swearing, smut [ Sub!Ransom, Soft Dom!Reader, Oral (both receiving), daddy kink, praise kink, implied vanilla sex, unprotected anal sex (wrap it before you tap it!), implied aftercare ].

A/N | Thank you for this fantastic request, sweet Nonnie! This will be my first time writing for a male! reader, so I hope I can do it justice. I had lots of fun exploring more of our favorite Sub!Ransom, so I hope you will enjoy the route I chose for this fic 🖤

Likes, comments and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💚

Divider is made by @firefly-graphics | 18+ banner is made by yours truly,

Main Masterlist | Ransom Drysdale Masterlist

The last bell of the day just went off, and it's time to clean your classroom before going home for the weekend. You've planned to have a leisurely weekend at home, work on some of your digital art, or read a book or two.

Just when your mind wanders to one of the books waiting for you at home, your phone rings in your back pocket, so you put down some of the clay you were about to put away and fish it out, sighing as you see who's calling you.

''What?!'' you spit out at the phone, already annoyed about her calling you. She never calls with any good news, and you have a clue this time would be the same.

''Hello to you too,'' she starts, and you let out a sigh at her comment.

''Tell me what's going on, or I'll hang up,'' you say, but she cuts you off mid-sentence.

''You're coming to dinner at the Thrombey household tomorrow, and you can not say no. Be there at 8 PM, and don't be late,'' she says before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Your heart starts beating faster at the thought of going over there, and you don't like what's probably going on. You drop your phone on your desk and continue cleaning up, reviews of tomorrow taking over your mind.

Tomorrow evening has come way too soon for your liking, and now you're getting ready after your shower, your beard neatly trimmed before putting on your outfit for dinner at the Thrombeys.

As much as you hate your Mom, you would never go against her demanding you be somewhere, having learned that years ago, you do as she says, just to be gone soon after it starts.

When you're ready, you grab your keys and phone before heading out the door and towards your car. When you get in, you close your eyes tightly and hold onto your steering wheel a little too hard to keep yourself calm before driving; you don't want to end up in an accident.

On your drive to the Thrombey estate, you keep thinking about why you ever said no to that job on the other side of the world; that way, you would have to deal with any of these people, especially not your Mom.

When you arrive at the estate, you see a car you didn't want to see, Ransom's Beemer. After a sigh, you put your car in park and put on your jacket before stepping into the cold air outside, ready to walk into the lion's den.

You walk up to the front door and ring the bell, waiting to be walking into literal hell. It doesn't surprise you when the devil herself opens the door, either.

''Hello, Linda,'' you say with faux politeness.

She lets you in after a sigh, barely acknowledging your existence, and you prefer keeping it that way. After taking off your coat and walking into the dining room, you're greeted by Harlan Thrombey, Linda, Richard Drysdale, their son Ransom, and your parents.

After greeting everyone except Ransom, you sit at the table and avoid his gaze. The two of you were the best friends growing up, but after a huge fight, you were never the same and have never seen each other since.

While dinner is served, Linda decides to cut right to the chase, and when she does, you nearly spit out your food all over the table.

''You-'' Linda points at you, and then to Ransom, ''-are getting married later this year,'' she says, and that's all you hear before everything blacks out, and you've fainted.

In the meantime, Ransom has been arguing about not wanting to get married to you - or at all, for that matter - which only made you feel worse by the time you've gotten back into consciousness.

''I'm not fucking marrying him, you are out of your minds!'' Ransom yells at both your parents by the time you're back, and that comment does sting a little. It's not like you were planning on getting married, but that's beside the point.

''D-Do we have any say in this?'' you say, finally back on earth with a pounding headache.

''No, it's all been dealt with, and from now on, both of you are in an exclusive relationship, or I guess I should say you two are officially engaged. That means not fucking everything that moves, Ransom,'' Linda says with a pointed tone.

Ransom's not happy with that, though you have less of a problem. Regardless, it's not like you were in a relationship or getting laid regularly.

The rest of the evening goes by quickly, and most of it goes over your head. All you know is that you'll have to marry the man you've had a huge falling out with, which will happen in less than a few months.

''Thank you for coming, darling. I can't wait to see you on your wedding day,'' your Mom says with a fake smile, and you give one back that's just as fake, trying to keep up appearances.

Today's the day you're officially marrying Ransom, and even though you're very nervous, there's a small part inside of you that's also excited.

If it wasn't for the fact that this is arranged and you have zero say in anything, you would be looking forward to this day, but you don't.

So here you are, in front of the wedding aisle, guests seated, looking at the man you'll be married to in less than a few minutes. His eyes look both angry and... desperate. That can't be right, you think to yourself, and you almost miss the moment you have to say, 'I do.'

''Do you take Hugh Ransom Drysdale to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love, comfort, honor, and keep him for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and health and forsaking all others, be faithful only to him so long as you both shall live?''

''I do,'' you say almost breathless, the realization sinking in that you're about to seal your wedding to your husband with a kiss, one that you have thought many times but were sure would never happen.

Faith can be funny sometimes. And a little cruel, too. But it's mostly funny.

''I now pronounce you two married!'' the officiant says before stepping aside, ensuring he's not in the way of your and Ransom's first kiss. As you take a deep breath, you step closer, and your hand moves to Ransom's waist.

Before you can fully move to him and meet in the middle, Ransom crashes his lips onto yours, knocking the air out of your lungs before you kiss him back; this surprises you.

Despite the surprise, you kiss him back with just as much, if not more, vigor now that you have gotten a taste, and you're immediately addicted, already chasing his lips when he pulls away.

''Let's get out of here,'' you say, and Ransom nods as if a switch inside him was flipped, and you could see it in his eyes. You've seen that look before in some other men, but seeing it in your husband's eyes have you chubbing up in your pants. Ransom is a sub.

You two rush to the suite where you had gotten ready before the wedding, and you quickly close the door behind you as you push Ransom against it.

Your lips immediately find each other again, and you can feel yourself getting even harder now, your dick straining painfully against the zipper of your pants, but you ignore it for now. All you want now is to make Ransom feel good so he can make you feel even better.

Soft moans leave Ransom's lips as you kiss your way down his jaw and neck as you take off his jacket, untie his tie, and unbutton his shirt to expose his beautiful chest to you.

''You look so good, Baby. Are you going to let Daddy make you feel so good?'' you ask, and Ransom's eyes gloss over at the thought, and all he can do is nod slowly.

''Words,'' you demand, and Ransom feels himself getting harder at the demand, his submissive side feeling even better now. And it's not that he doesn't want to talk, but it feels like his whole body is on fire with pure lust, his brain has gone fuzzy from pleasure, and his throat feels filled with cotton balls.

Yet, he manages to squeak out a small yes at your demand, and you reward him with lots of praise and soft kisses on your way down, leaving a kiss between every praise, not leaving a single inch of his chest and stomach untouched.

''You're doing so well for me, listening to me. You're being such a good boy for me, Baby,'' you tell him until you have found your spot on the floor, and your hands are unzipping Ransom's pants and pulling them down to uncover his rigid member.

And when it does, your eyes almost pop out of your head from the surprise because Ransom's a lot bigger than you had anticipated, but you're determined to take every last inch of him in your mouth.

''Holy fuck...'' you whisper before wrapping your hand around his length and slowly moving up and down, earning yourself a bit of pre-cum that leaks from his tip, and you gladly lick it up.

Ransom's head falls back against the door you pushed him against with a loud thud and a groan at the feeling of your hand and mouth on him, and he almost can't take it. Almost. Because on your way down, you told him he's not allowed to cum without permission, and he wants to be your good boy so badly.

To surprise him, you take him into your mouth without warning, and the sound he makes ensures you're fully hard as well at this point, so you open your pants and take yourself out, giving your cock a few leisurely strokes.

The groans you let out at the feeling of him in your mouth are slowly creeping up Ransom's spine, his hands in fists on the side of his body to not make himself cum yet.

You slowly work more of him into your mouth until you take him altogether, thankful for your lack of gag reflex now. You stay like this for a few long seconds before pulling off him and giving Ransom his last order.

''Fuck my throat until you cum for me, Baby. And let Daddy hear how good he makes you feel,'' you say before wrapping your lips around him again, and Ransom does as you tell him, chasing his orgasm as you suck him.

The moans and groans from Ransom are almost pornographic, but it feels so fucking good. Before you know it, you're cumming with a loud cry, too, your cum spurting out in long spurts over the tiles in the room, followed closely by Ransom shooting his into your throat, letting you swallow it all.

''Good boy,'' is the last you say before cleaning him up and ensuring he's come down from his high enough to get back to the party because the two of you are supposed to cut the cake, but you were nowhere to be found.

Ever since the wedding, Ransom hasn't changed a single bit, and he's still stuck up as ever, but now you're living together with his ass too. And that's gained you more fights than you could have ever thought.

But this evening, something felt different. Usually, when Ransom would be late, he would always let you know, but this time he didn't. And even though you don't want to admit it to yourself, you're worried.

You grab your phone again and call Ransom, but to no avail; he needs to pick up. Not even 5 minutes later, you hear the front door open, and Ransom walks in, acting like nothing was happening like you didn't call him three times to see if he's okay. Like he didn't have you worried to death about him.

''Where the fuck have you been?'' you spit out as soon as he walks into the kitchen.

''Why the fuck do you care? It's not like we like each other, so fuck off,'' Ransom spat back at you, but he knows he crossed a line. Despite this, he keeps walking, your eyes burning a hole in the back of his head.

''I care because you're my husband, Ransom. You may not like it, but you're still my husband; we're still married. I thought something had happened to you!'' you say with a raise of your voice, which has Ransom stopping in his tracks.

Despite all your fights over the littlest things, tonight is the first time you've raised your voice at him. And it has the effect you had hoped it would have because he turns around and looks at you mournfully.

''Are you seriously pouting at me? You are fucking unbelievable, Ransom. You know what? I think I'm going to have to punish you for it. Maybe that way you'll learn some actual human decency,'' you say dryly, but Ransom shakes his head.

''Did you forget who's talking here? I believe I am in charge, and you are supposed to listen to me. Get your ass upstairs and get ready in the position. You're not allowed to touch yourself tonight, and you will have to wait until I get there even to move as much as a single muscle,'' you order, and off he goes.

You sigh as you finish the dishes and put the leftovers you saved for Ransom into the fridge. You may be angry at him, but you're not inhumane. He'll have to eat later.

Ransom's been sitting in the bedroom for half an hour, and his knees are starting to hurt, but it gives him an excellent chance to think about what he did. And he did just that, so when you walk into the bedroom with only your boxer briefs still on, he looks up at you with an expectant look.

''Don't look so happy, Ransom. This isn't your punishment yet,'' you tell him, and you can't help but smile at how you see his eyes roam over your chest and abdomen to the tent you've pitched in your underwear.

As much as Ransom gets on your nerves, you still get off on the dynamic the two of you have. Ransom is the needy and subby bottom, insatiable at the best times. You are the equally needy but very giving Dom. This makes every fight worth it because you know you two have nothing but respect for the other person in these moments.

Though Ransom has a funny way of showing it.

''Have you thought about what you did?'' you ask, your voice dropping a little deeper on purpose, which has the desired effect as you see the chill going down Ransom's spine. He's almost where you want him; he needs one last push.

''Y-Yes, Daddy,'' he croaks out, and you slowly walk over to where he's sitting on the bed on his knees, his arms behind his back and his dick soft between his legs. Perfect.

''And?''

''I was h-home late and didn't t-tell you I w-would be,'' he says, a tear escaping and softly trailing down his face. You climb onto the bed and crawl your way to Ransom, grabbing his face softly in your hands, and you bring his forehead to your lips to calm him down.

''I-I'm so s-sorry, Daddy,'' he hiccups through his tears, and you know he is sorry. Seeing this side of him always made you feel a little bad for him, and you don't want him to sink into it too deep, so you pull him into your chest, ignoring all your needs right now and just calming him down.

''Sshhh, I know you are, Baby. It's okay, you're being a good boy for me right now,'' you assure him, and you wrap his hands around your waist as well, pulling him as close as you possibly can while whispering sweet words to him, and he's feeling better.

You pull away and look at him before placing a small kiss on his forehead.

''Do you want to continue with your punishment right now? If not, we will do it when you're in a better headspace,'' you say, and Ransom shakes his head. He doesn't want to continue right now.

''It's okay, come on. Let's lay down and cuddle for a bit, and then we can get some dinner in you,'' you say, but Ransom doesn't budge.

''Want you...'' he says, and this time, he looks into your eyes with pure desire. His eyes are red from crying, and his cheeks are flushed, which gives him an almost innocent look, and you feel a fire deep inside you burning for him.

Feelings you're not ready to give into. It's an arranged marriage; you shouldn't have feelings for this man, but it's getting harder to deny that you do.

Instead of the punishment, you guided Ransom slowly onto his back while giving him lots of kisses, and your lips met in a passionate, love-filled kiss that seemed to go on forever, but it was precisely what the two of you needed now.

The rest of the evening is spent wrapped up in one another, having slow vanilla sex, and it is the first time the two of you are spending your time like this.

Both of you are entirely spent at the end of the evening, and you wouldn't want it any other way. When you two were done, you took a shower together and reheated dinner for Ransom before sitting on the couch and watching TV together.

You both went to bed at the same time and shared more soft kisses and lots of cuddles and suddenly, it felt like this marriage thing might not be so bad after all. If only you could stay in this bubble forever.

''Are you ready to go? We have dinner, remember?'' you tell Ransom, and he walks into the bedroom after getting dressed; you put on your outfit as well.

''How can I forget if you mention it every fucking second of every day?!'' Ransom says as he throws his hands up in the air. Usually, you would have reprimanded him, but he's under much stress due to this dinner, so you let it slide for now.

''Right, I'm ready to go,'' you say after fixing your hair and beard one last time, and you walk out the front door to your car, followed closely by Ransom.

''No, we're taking my car. I'm not getting in that beemer of yours,'' you sigh as you unlock your car, and Ransom sighs, so you send him a pointed look.

''Don't even think about it, Ransom. We don't have time,'' you say, and he gets into the passenger seat of your car without another word. It's quite a long drive, and after a while, you let your hand rest on Ransom's thigh without thinking about it, but Ransom tenses under your touch.

''Oh, fuck,'' you say, and you pull back, but Ransom grabs hold of your wrist and places it back on his thigh without saying a word, and he looks out the window. You can't help but let a small smile escape your lips.

Ransom runs out of your car and into the house when you arrive. He got painfully hard from your hand being so close to where he needed you the most, and he needs some relief.

''What do you think you're doing?'' you ask as you open the bathroom door, and Ransom immediately stops his actions and gets bright red at the fact that he got caught.

''C'mere, let me help you. Want to have Daddy make you feel so good?'' you ask, and Ransom nods shyly. You sink on your knees and take him into your mouth immediately, and it doesn't take long for Ransom to cum in your throat, making you swallow it all.

''Good boy,'' you say before stuffing him back into his pants and heading for dinner.

''W-What about-''

''Later. Now it's time for dinner,'' you say, and Ransom nods before following you into the dining room, where most of his family is already seated.

The conversation landed on the two of you quickly, and you answered every question without missing a beat, glancing over at Ransom repeatedly.

It isn't until Richard makes one more rude comment under his breath about the two of you that you completely snap, and a sea of emotions comes out in a steady stream.

''What is your fucking problem?! You can talk to us like normal humans if you have a problem with me and Ransom. And besides, it is because of you that ensured we're in this to begin with. We have never done anything wrong; we're just living the life that you forced upon us, so you should leave us the fuck alone. Asshole!''

With those words, you storm out of the dining room and hear Ransom say something to them as well, but you're too far away to what exactly.

You run outside and into your car, needing to escape everyone for a while. You can't look at them, and especially not your husband, so you decide to take a drive. Despite running after you as fast as he can, Ransom can only watch as you drive without him.

After about 30 minutes of driving, you stop on the side of the road, and your emotions all come out; you hit the steering wheel, crying and screaming, anything to make yourself feel better, but nothing works.

''What the fuck did I do to deserve this?! I'm fucking married to a guy who hates me, I have a shitty job, and I can't even talk to anyone without feeling like I'm out of place,'' you yell against nothing, and it feels good to finally get those feelings out, even though they're only followed by more tears.

You're ripped from your thoughts when you receive a call from Ransom, but you don't answer the first time. Immediately, he calls again, and this time, you do answer.

''The fuck do you want, Ransom? Can't you leave me alone?'' you sigh as you wipe your tears, but hearing his voice only worsens it. The small fire inside you has become a complete sea of flames, and you can't hide your feelings anymore. But neither can Ransom.

''No, I can't. And you know why? Because I fucking love you. I didn't want to admit it since we're forced into this, but I love you, okay? And I need you to come home because it's fucking unbearable without you here,'' Ransom sighs, and you can't help but laugh.

''The fuck are you laughing at?'' Ransom spits over the phone, but you can't help but laugh uncontrollably because you finally know you feel the same as he does.

''I fucking love you, Ransom. I have for years, even before the fucking fight that tore us apart. So yeah, that's why I agreed to this marriage with you. But it feels so fucking good to tell you I love you, Ransom. I always have, and I promise you every single day from now on just how much,'' you say before driving back to the Thrombey estate and picking him up.

When you finally arrived home, you two were all over each other immediately. They had the most passionate session of sex you've ever had together on the living room couch because neither of you could make it to the bedroom.

''F-fuck, still so tight for me, Baby,'' you whisper in Ransom's ear as you push in after working him open for the most significant part of an hour, drinking in every moan slipping past his lips.

''Such a perfect boy for Daddy, gonna let Daddy use your hole like the fucktoy you are, huh?'' you say with a mischievous grin on his face, and all Ransom can do is nod in agreement while you slowly push in further, groaning at the feeling of him clenching down on you as you stroke his cock.

When you're fully in, you slowly start moving in and out, making Ransom arch his back off the couch and into you, only wanting to be close to you right now.

''D-Daddy!'' he screams out as you continuously thrust against his prostate, and you stroke him through his orgasm, his cum spurting out onto his stomach and chest before you lick it up and work your tongue into his mouth so he can taste himself in your mouth.

''Gonna cum for you, Baby. Fuck, take my cum!'' you groan as you chase your high, and you shoot every last drop deep into Ransom before collapsing on top of him, whispering sweet words to him as you both come down.

Afterward, you take a relaxing bath together, exchanging sweet words and lots of 'I love you ' kisses. Finally, it feels perfect, like you live the life you've always dreamt of.

That night, you fall asleep in your husband's arms, feeling like it's meant to be. Tonight is the first night of the rest of your lives together.

#ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale fanfiction #ransom drysdale fanfic #ransom drysdale one shot #ransom drysdale imagine #ransom drysdale x male reader #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale fluff #ransom drysdale smut #sub!ransom drysdale #sub ransom drysdale #sub!ransom #sub ransom #d/s relationship

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