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mochatsin · 8 months

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WHEN THEY FEEL THEIR SINS ON MC

You’re a human, a vessel of various emotions and feelings. You’re far different from the brother’s who’s more affected by their own respective sins that dominate their emotions and personality. But being the avatars of their own sins, that means they can sense it on other demons and humans. You're no exception.

this is just a silly little thing stuck in my head. so just imagine if gluttony demons can feel other people's hunger or if a wrath demon can feel other's anger. enjoy !!

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Lucifer

As much as you try to hide it, Lucifer knows very well when he can feel the pride from you. At first it irritated him, especially when pride is imminent whenever you successfully forge a pact with his brothers. He saw that sense of pride as a threat to his loved ones when he had no clue why you needed to forge pacts.

But when he gets to know you and your intentions better, he knows that this kind of pride comes from a good place like trying to fix his family. Afterall he can’t blame you for feeling that way when you’re able to bring the seven rulers to their knees. He’s thankful you never abused this power though or he would regret his decision of making a pact with you.

Whenever you get a good grade in class, cast a powerful spell all on your own, or do a simple task any demon would see as small and easy, he feels how proud and happy you are when you accomplish anything that he could do with a single snap.

He has to remember that you’re a human, and doing what demons can normally do is something you’re allowed to take pride in.

Feeling pride means he can also tell if it gets damaged. There was a time you were excited to show one of the brothers this spell you worked hard in practicing, but when Mammon said “Eh? That’s such a basic level though.” He didn’t mean to sound insensitive, but words slipped and Lucifer could tell you were hurt deeply.

Lucifer immediately intervenes and scolds his brothers who undermine your efforts. “They’re a human who had little to no knowledge about magic until coming here to Devildom. Don’t speak to them that way or else.”

He would then turn to you with a gentle look in his eyes “MC, trust me when I say I was very impressed. I know you will become a powerful sorcerer. My brothers could use you as a role model to work harder themselves.” And you do become great with magic… really fast that it’s kind of scary.

When you show him a test you did well in, you were nervous at first since you know that Lucifer probably had perfect marks in it. Though he looks at you with a smile before congratulating you. He even offered to take you out for a treat as a reward.

He adores feeling the pride grow whenever he, the most powerful of the seven rulers, would compliment you and your hard work. He makes an effort to acknowledge you afterwards. Whether it’s pitching a good idea or doing well in a subject you struggled in.

Absolutely loves knowing that you take pride when you see the brothers are getting along well. Lucifer knows that things have been less chaotic now that he has you by his side as war-level arguments are not as frequent these days. He knows things wouldn’t be like this without you around and he likes the influence you have on his brothers. You deserve to be proud of that.

Mammon

He is the embodiment of Greed and no one can ever compare to him, not when his sin has completely taken over him and his actions as everything he wants to do involves around the concept of getting rich regardless of the method.

He was willing to bribe, hag, and steal if it meant he got his hands on what he wanted. It’s how his Greed works and he can’t control it.

The surprise he feels whenever there’s a sudden strong aura of sin coming from you, he’s never prepared for it at all. It happened the first time when he and Asmo took you to the mall, and he felt the greed from you.

You didn’t seem like the kind of person who would want material things, but maybe it’s fair when you’re surrounded by all these new and foreign products you can’t find in the human realm.

You were staring at this well-crafted piece of jewelry, it was unlike anything you’ve seen in the human world and it was enchanting the way it glistens. Its glitters would dance inside like a galaxy of stars encapsulated in such a beautiful glass of your favorite color. You’re drawn to it. You want it.

Though when Mammon asks you “something caught yer eye over there?” You turn to him with a small smile before shaking your head. You know you can’t afford it yet and you try to move on to forget about it.

It astonishes him that you don’t succumb to this greed despite how strong he can feel it from you. The self-control is admirable but he knows how sometimes it can eat him up inside, he can hardly imagine how you can walk away from it.

Mammon tries to drag you and Asmo in the store where he feels your greed is strongest. He basically uses this sixth sense of his like a detector, where he keeps an eye on you whenever that sudden desire rises up and he inspects which one it is.

You wondered where he’s been off to whenever classes end until Beel tells you that he spotted him working in Hell’s kitchen once. Maybe he was trying to pay off some debt, since you saw Levi chasing him around the house the other day.

Much to your surprise, you find Mammon by your door with the jewelry you were admiring the other day at hand as a gift. To Mammon, the big smile on your face was worth the blackhole in his pockets.

You asked him why he would buy you something so expensive, but most importantly how would he have known you wanted this. You never told anyone after all. Mammon starts turning red, because there’s no way he can admit that he felt your Greed. So he’ll keep that secret for himself.

He starts taking note whenever you start feeling Greed. They don’t happen as often but when it does, he’d want to see what caught your attention. It’s through these that he learns what were the things you like. It’s an upper hand he has against his brothers to know what's the perfect gift to you, but of course most of the time he can’t afford it anyways.

Levi

Levi’s envy is the most evident when it involves his interests. If his brothers do better in school? Sports? Style? He wouldn’t really care about such things because it’s just not his thing. But whenever there’s a new wave of Ruri-chan merchandise and he doesn’t get it first, you can expect him to be sulking and throwing a fit on the group chat.

He’s caught off guard when you were out in the mall one day and while you were trying to buy the latest album of your favorite band, you saw that some other demon already got the last copy.

The aura of envy was gradual and faint, but when that demon who got the copy gave you a nasty look, the spike of emotions was overwhelming for the otaku.

He knows how envy is something he can feel from other demons, he always felt that when Asmo can’t get his hands on a new beauty product, or even with Beel when any of the brothers have the last extra cookie. But this is the first time in ages that he felt it’s been that strong coming from you.

You were the last person he expected to feel this way, especially when you turned back to him with a smile. You tell him that you’ll just get a copy when the new batch releases but he definitely knows it's not okay. You waited for this for so long after all.

Perhaps he could get you what you wanted on Akuzon? With the help of Satan’s connections of course. Levi never wants you to sit with such an uncomfortable feeling, he knows well how it’s hard to hold envy in. You indulge in his interests, he might as well do the same for you.

When that envy is directed towards another person, whether it's a demon or anyone else, he’d try to be comforting since none of his brothers can feel what you do. Unlike demons, humans are better at suppressing these sorts of emotions.

Some demon is taller and has a better build than you? The other has better grades or better hair? It irritates you often and Levi can feel it. But when that envy starts turning into a form of insecurity then you best bet that he’s the first one to notice and try to do something about it.

“M-MC um… I know I don't say this a lot but, I'm glad you’re my player two. T-the… best one I could ask for and— AGH DON'T LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!!!”

Giving you compliments is hard for him, and trying to not stutter with every word proved to be more difficult. But feeling the envy slowly disappear and seeing that smile on your face was worth it. He reminds himself that it’s for the sake of your self-esteem, he won’t allow you to look down on yourself!!

Satan

It took him many years and human lifespans to be able to master this kind of calm. For a demon that only knew rage, it was difficult for him to be able to control it. The amount of work it took for him to be the calm and respectable person that he is today, you can’t even imagine.

Though most of the time, that well built persona of his slips out and that monster gets unleashed. When that does happen, it’s very hard for him to control himself. Up to the point you or the brothers would have to intervene to stop him from ripping someone apart.

He’s calm, but inside he could feel the burning rage all the time. The wrath cannot compare to other demons, but there was one time that it did and it shocked him to feel such intensity radiating from someone else.

You were in the middle of doing a project that involves drawing a summoning circle for class. Satan was your partner and you were in charge of drawing the outlines for now while he studied the symbols needed for the summoning.

It was going great until one of your classmates bumped onto your table, making your steady hand accidentally draw against the whole circle. You’re gonna have to redraw the outlines again just when you are about to finish. The demon saw the irritated look on your face and scoffed.

“Not my fault you were in the way.” the demon would reply and leave. Satan was irritated of course, but he felt the sudden surge of rage from you. Like a match tossed onto gasoline, it burns through your soul. Though you were still calm on the outside because the last thing you need is to pick a fight.

He would pat your shoulder “MC, are you feeling… alright?” you would turn to him with such a gentle smile and say that everything is fine, but the rage was still there that your smile and words was kind of unsettling to him.

Your wrath does not compare to him of course, but you were the last person he’d expect to feel this kind of burning fire since you’re so sweet and patient all the time. He wonders if this is why you were able to empathize with him whenever he struggles controlling his rage. Maybe you two are more alike than he realizes. So he helps you calm down and redo everything.

A few minutes after what happened, you could see that the demon from earlier accidentally summoned a colony of fire ants instead of what was actually assigned, and he was punished by getting rid of every ant with his bare hands. No magic.

Satan just smiles, maybe a certain someone must’ve written their symbols all wrong. He doesn’t play dirty tricks like this in class often, but he wouldn’t mind if it would help quench your wrath down. Though he reminds you to be more honest to him if you’re feeling upset about anything.

He becomes more observant on your wrath levels, taking note of what ticks you off and when he should take you away from the situation or if he should intervene. Insensitive jokes? Bad day? Mammon stealing your things again? Satan is there to make sure you don’t tear something apart (as tempting as that image may be).

Asmo

What frustrated Asmo at first was that his charms never seemed to work on you. Regardless of his magic or dashing looks, you remain unfazed and he wonders why. Demons or humans, all would be dancing at the palm of his fingers by now!

That doesn’t mean he isn’t going to keep trying though, it just fuels his excitement when he thinks about what he can do just to see that flustered look on your face.

Sometimes he’s in a slump when one of his advances fails again. None of his brothers offered useful advice and he’s the Avatar of Lust! He should know every play in the book because one of them is bound to work.

One day while you and the brothers were watching a movie in the living room, he was able to sense a waft of lust in the room and his eyes frantically searched for the source. Oh to his surprise to see that it was coming from you.

The Lust comes from attraction, and a certain scene from this movie stirred up some feelings. You’re quiet about it and focused on the film, unaware that Asmo now has his eyes on you.

He started becoming more observant to the times he feels that faint aura. When this character in the film said some sweet romantic words, or maybe even something bold and daring, Asmo would pick up on those cues.

From then on he would mimic the moves that would make you swoon and there is a devious smirk on his face whenever they work. He knows what are the right buttons to push and he’s loving every single reaction he gets from you.

As fun as this is, he does love how he learns more about the new things you like. He finds out what pet names you like just and which love language you prefer, all by observing how strong your aura gets. Sometimes when he just does something sweet for you, he would feel the butterflies.

Given the kind demons he’s surrounded himself with, he only found out his senses aren’t just limited to sexual desire. It counts for attraction and he feels that more often when he’s around you. It’s a new and strange sensation, but it was welcomed.

“You look absolutely stunning today sweetheart” he would always tell you every morning to feel those butterflies again. It’s a good mood booster for the both of you.

If you’re at that point where you’re comfortable being intimate with him, Asmo would definitely use this sense like a meter to know when’s the best time to ask for kisses and… maybe something more.

Beel

It’s an understatement to say that Beel is just “hungry all the time.” He’s famished, with a never ending appetite and constant demand for food.

When he goes too long without it, you can say that for a moment, he becomes Wrath. Though it doesn’t compare to Satan’s rampages, it still does quite a lot of property damage accompanied with a large bill and a 3 hour lecture from Lucifer.

He never really pays attention when he feels the hunger from other demons whenever he would eat a meal meant for 5 people. Though he wondered why he never felt that from you when you first came down here in Devildom.

It was only when you both visited purgatory hall did he feel the hunger from you when you saw all the baked goods Luke made for a taste testing session. It was the kind of hunger where he could say that your mouth would've been watering if you let it.

He practices some restraint and lets you take the first few cupcakes and sugar cookies. As hungry as he was, he wanted you to enjoy it first because he knows that the moment he picks up a tray of sweets, it’s gone in a matter of seconds.

Despite your hunger, you noticed how he’s staring at you (or the food) so intently and decided to offer him a cupcake. That made him look at you confusingly, why would you offer him the food you seem to be craving for so much?

“MC… do you not like the food in Devildom?” He asks since your Gluttony has never been this strong before “I guess it’s just that I haven't seen you enjoy food like this when we eat our dinners at the house.”

After you explained, it’s only then that he realized that because a lot of the food and ingredients were so foreign (and unsafe), it never triggered your appetite.

He can’t really blame you when the menu consists of bat wings, bufo toads, and more creatures that would sound unappealing for a human. He never noticed the loss of appetite since he was too busy stuffing his own mouth with food.

Beel took note whenever your hunger is satiated so he’d know what kind of food you’d want to eat. He also finds out which ones aren’t your fancy. Sweets treats? Savory things? Spicy ones? Beel will know which one you’re a glutton for. Would probably inform Lucifer to make sure some of your meals accommodate your tastes while staying here.

Whenever he notices that you’re hungry, Beel would take you to certain restaurants (which is safe for humans) that he thinks you might like once he knows what your tastes are. He likes seeing the happy smile on your face when you eat something delicious.

Beel tries to avoid eating the things that you like since he can really just eat anything else. You deserve to eat your comfort foods after all! But in the event that he does, accident or not, he’ll apologize to you nonstop.

Belphie

You would say that he could sense any sort of laziness radiating from demons, but he’s always asleep in the attic to even notice it. He’s aware of it regardless but it’s never really useful.

Belphie felt it the most in this house whenever he would pass by Lucifer’s office. Always radiating with fatigue it’s almost infectious, though Belphie doesn’t really care much. It’s what he gets for working with Diavolo.

However, there was one time he went down the kitchen to get some water and found you by the living room staying up to study. The coffee that Satan made for you wasn’t really working anymore and you’re the only one left in the living room trying to study.

He felt how sluggish and heavy your aura was as you desperately tried to stay awake. There was a test upcoming and you wanted to learn all that you could, but it’s not working anymore and Belphie knew that when he walked up to you.

“You know you’re not gonna get anything done at this point… it’s late, come on let's go to bed” normally you would decline his offer to sleep, but since you were so tired you agreed. You both slept peacefully in your room and he could tell that you were more energized than last night.

Belphie started taking note of the times you’re feeling a little sleepy or lazy. Most of which happens in one of the classes you’re not really interested in. If not that, then it’s the amount of work you have to do as a human exchange representative or as someone babysitting seven demons. You need a break.

He would be the one to remind you to rest if the sluggish aura around you was getting stronger. Belphie would always be the first to know that you’re tired before you could even realize it yourself, and in the end he’s always right.

Whenever you have chores to do but are too tired, Belphie would ask (or nag) one of the brothers to do it for you. They have a hard time saying no if Belphie says it's for your sake. Most of the time it’s true, though he would sometimes use it as an excuse to get out of his own chores too.

He noticed that you don’t really decline when you’re tired every time he asks you to nap with him. It’s a window of opportunity and he’s going to exploit it if that means you both get to cuddle up together in the attic or in your room. It’s a win for the both of you.

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me scenarios

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mists-reading-nook · 4 months

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The Fool.

Part 3 of "guilt of the masses"!!

Ft: Furina

[Hey I'm back and better than ever!! Took a break from SAGAU,but I'm back to writing for it,and expect longer fics too!!

I'll also probably be posting more Twisted wonderland nowadays,including a couple fics I've been working on!

I hope yall like this addition to the series!]

tw: execution

To fool the heavenly principles was to fool yourself.

This was something Furina took to heart as she played God for 500 years.

So when the Creator descended, when everyone began to ridicule and hunt them down as an "imposter",Furina did nothing. After all, she was an imposter as well, so who was she to judge this "Fake creator"?

Fontaine oversaw your trial once you were caught, and Furina had a front row seat to the show. It had taken so long to catch you, so long that her performance had recently finally ended. She watched from the top of the courts, high above everyone and everything. Recent events had her nervous to be there, but she had to at least see the outcome. At the very least she had to witness how her nation treated other imposters.

There were some fontainians who still respected her,after all. But still many held contempt in their hearts for her performance. And this "fake" was not fontainian. They were not even from Tevyat!

So she felt that she must watch. That she had to see it all go down.

You were found guilty,and Furina felt her heart drop to her shoes. It was hardly a fair,true trial. It seemed as if the "trial" was nothing but a courtesy. And when the sentence was pronounced,Furina was taken back to that fateful last dance.

The death sentence.

They were going to kill you,just as they had tried to do to her.

Looking back,Furina wished she'd done more. She wished she had stopped the trial,done something,anything to spare your fate. But she did nothing but watch.

It was nothing like her execution. It was done with a golden polearm,in the hands of one of the original 7 archons.

A title she long abandoned.

And as the blade came to your neck,Furina couldn't help but close her eyes. But then there was a clatter,and a gasp.

Furina peeked open her eyes then, only to see the blade covered in shimmering golden blood, the same liquid flowing from the cut on your neck. It should've been impossible for her to see all that from her position. But she opened her eyes and it was as if that was all she could see.

Furina realized that that was the true creator of the world. The creator of her creator.

And they were beautiful.

Furina did not live with her fellow acolytes, nor did she interact with them. She preferred her life alone, finally away from the spotlight. There was still a bubbling guilt at the bottom of her gut. The same feeling of helplessness she felt for 500 years. The knowledge that she could have done something to help someone, to help the creator; who was in a situation just like her, made her sick to her stomach.

Her worship ramps up after that. Before, she never worshiped you at all, believing that she had to fool you as she was fooling herself, and even a sliver of worship would give her away. But after that, she prays to you whenever she can, in hopes that maybe, you will hear her apologies.

That maybe, you'll forgive her inaction.

And maybe you'd forgive her lies as well.

But will you? Will you choose to forgive her? Or will you ignore her pleas?

The choice is yours "Creator".

#the guilt of the masses #yooo guess whos back #sagau #genshin impact sagau #genshin sagau #sagau genshin #genshin impact #furina #furina genshin

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moronkombat · 6 months

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okay so I’ve never done this before 😭

but can I request a nsfw work on Tomas being frustrated over how Bi-Han treats him that he sleeps with Bi-Han’s wife who also loves Tomas 👀 like Tomas is so frustrated and Bi-Han’s wife offers him leverage even if it’s cheating on Bi-Han?

decided to take some creative liberties with this prompt and made it into tomas is frustrated with bi-han and decides he's going to take his frustrations out on bi-han's sweet little wife

tw: afab pronouns and anatomy, dub/noncon, breeding kink/pregnancy mention unprotected sex

Tomas had known her since he first came to join the Lin Kuei family. She had been the daughter of a close family friend and someone Tomas had become rather fond of her. She sweet, kind and always very understanding. The very opposite of Bi-Han and yet his eldest brother had been the one to capture her heart. When he saw the two of them embrace each other, Tomas felt as if nothing in the world would ever go right for him.

No matter how hard he tried to win her favor, she always had eyes for the cryomancer. Yes, she and Tomas spent time together but it was never anything more than a cordial and friendly chat between friends. Tomas wanted so much more than just friends. Yet she remained with Bi-Han and when he heard word of their proposal Tomas truly felt lost.

For years he has kept these envies to himself, watching from just the corner of his eye when Bi-Han and her were together. She smiles so sweetly with him. Never did she smile like that around Tomas. Though, this beautiful flower always kind, no matter the occasion. He treats Tomas with grace, respect and care. Did her husband share this trait? No.

Whatever Tomas seemed to do, Bi-Han was critical and disapproving. They do not share blood. They are not brothers. Tomas could never change that, he never could hope to. This day no exception as Tomas had been reminded of his commoner status yet again by his eldest brother. His only option to stand there and listen to this verbal lashing, waiting to be dismissed.

Upon his dismissal, Tomas had sought refuge in one of the dojos. There he stands, hand covering his brow, as he ponders all the failures Bi-Han saw him as. It isn't fair. It isn't right. Why is Tomas always met with such contempt when all he tries to do is receive acceptance?

"Tomas?" her voice an instant calming flow, "Thought I would find you here?"

A hand slides down the length of his face and he turns to look at the one who has always accepted him. Eyes softened, lips curved and offering a smile...she always so divine, so perfect. Tomas finds himself sighing and relaxing into the wall. Footsteps approach and her warmth radiates close. There's something tingling up his spine while she stands with him. So close, so close.

"'My husband giving you trouble, again?" Comes her inquisition and Tomas need not even answer her. Her posture and overall demeanor softens. "I'm sorry. It isn't right for him to become so upset with you."

His heart hangs heavy. It always her apologizing for Bi-Han behavior for his mistreatment of others. It is enraging to know that someone so sweet takes on the burdens of a brother most vile. Tomas can hear her voice, the words she says always so lovely, but he is unable to listen. No, his grey eyes merely watch her plush and tender lips move. Are they soft? They must be...they be so soft and comforting. Eyes continue their path...such a slender neck, smooth and warm skin.

Tomas can't stop himself not when eyes fall upon her chest. How unfair seeing the fabric stretch like that. Large breasts hide beneath it, just begging to be revealed. Fingers twitch as he imagines what it's like to hold them against his palms. What else could his hands do? That waist of hers...so tight and begging to be grabbed and pulled. Push and pull against his body again and again.

Shit...why does she have to do this? How can she be so cruel to taunt him with her body that so forbidden to him. It's not fair. It's not right. Nothing ever has gone right for Tomas, why does she have to rub it in by standing there looking so...tempting?!

Desire, so much of it, how is expected not to drown? Hands that flinch and wince now spring to life. They grab, they shove and he hears her shriek. Bodies pressed together, she trapped and ensnared and Tomas holds the key to escape. Large hands encompass her wrists, holding her against a wall. She struggles, squirming and writhing against him. Feels good...it feels so good!

Tomas pressed himself as close as he can to her, hot breath dancing against a slim neck. A stiff erection begins to burn and Tomas is so desperate for relief while she continues to move against his body. A tongue so damp licks at her skin and shaking hands begin to roam uncharted territory. The fabric of her dress so pretty against begging palms. He hears her pleading with him, asking him what he's doing and why but Tomas can only hear how delicious her voice sounds like this.

Hips begin to buck, rutting up against her to establish some sort of friction for his growing arousal. None of Tomas can remain still when he has her captured like this. He gropes and caresses all the curves he can. Pulling at her dress to better reveal secrets he could have never dreamed of revealing. Yet here she is, supple breasts exposed that Tomas quickly latches himself onto.

There's a new noise at his ears then, something very dangerous and it shoots right down to Tomas' desperate cock. She's whining, it feels good? He's making her feel good. Invigorated, Tomas begins to luck and suck at perked and blushing nipples. So easily his lips encompass such a beautiful little bud and how perfectly his tongue swirls around it. There's more of those pretty sounds from her and Tomas uses an unoccupied hand to bring her hand to his hard erection.

He can feel her wrist attempting to pull away. How dare she. Doesn't she know he's like this because of her? Because she is always walking around flaunting that lewd body of hers. This is her fault. There is only her to blame for what's happening. Tomas' grip on her wrist steels and he begins manipulating her hand so that she caresses him through his trousers.

"T-Tomas...!" Words are finally coherent again. "Please, you don't mean to do this!"

It is her attempt to reason with him, to still he the very good in him that Bi-Han could never see. Tomas groans and moves his lips from her breast torrid and wild. "Tom-!"

He can't hear her again, lips are pressed onto hers so rough and desperate. Even as she tries to resist, his tongue and hers still collide so gracefully.

"So pretty, you're so pretty." Tomas whines against her in that moment of breath. "I gotta taste you. You're making me go crazy. Fuck, you're always teasing me."

Panicked, afraid, she looks to him. "Tomas, I don't know what you're talking about! Ple-!" She screams, her world spinning as eyes come to witness the wall.

There's a gasp, hands are pulling her hips and soon she feels herself being bent over. She has no choice but to place her palms flat against the wall if she did not want to tumble. Her legs are moved apart and a dress is hiked up around her waist. Over her shoulder she is met with the wild and drunk gaze of her dear friend Tomas.

Bending down, he can feel himself shaking and trembling as he looks at her soaked panties. She's wet, so wet, practically dripping and she knows it too. There is a great shame within her, knowing she's been turned on by someone other than her husband but her body cannot deny pleasure no matter who gives it.

"You're so wet here." Tomas muses, pressing finger against the warmth of her panties. "So sticky...fuck, I gotta taste your pussy."

Her mouth parts to protest but there is only a moan as the flat of his tongue lays against her clothed pussy. Such a betraying moan, she bites her lip to keep herself quiet but Tomas does not stop. His tongue tangos against her nectar stained panties, pushing and sucking. Nails claw at the wall and thighs shake that he teases her like this. Why does it feel so amazing? She loves her husband so much but...this just feels so good!

Teeth slip and her moans are freed into the empty air. Such pretty music she makes for him and Tomas is only fueled to keep going. "You like this, baby? You like me teasing you pussy like this?"

No, this is so filthy. Bi-Han has never talked to her like this. No, Bi-Han always so sweet with his words but Tomas...so cruel and yet why does something within her twist and turn so tightly?

"Ah, you're getting even more wet. You must be really perverted, huh? So fucking hot..." Tomas breathes before continuing. He not even touching her core directly and still he has her moaning like this. "S-Shit, you just can't keep quiet. I'm gonna end up cumming just from listening to you."

That would be her salvation, wouldn't it? If he came now, then nothing could progress further. Please, please just finish! But there is no salvation awaiting her. No, instead her panties are pulled away and cool air greets her. No, no! Tomas could cum from just the sight of her pretty little pussy. Such a lovely color...Tomas quivers, fuck he needs to take her now

Sounds of clothing shifting and Tomas holds the base of his hard and thick length. The tip slides against her pussy, coating it so sticky in beautiful glistening wetness. She gasps and begins to beg. "No...! No Tomas don't! Please!"

Her pleas fall so silent, Tomas will not be denied that which should have always been his. His hands grab onto her hips, pushing into soft skin. "I'm gonna fuck you now, okay? I just gotta fuck you. I've always wanted to so...you'll let me, right?"

Words are spoken yet Tomas seems not to be interested in a response. Eyes captured by madness, there is no shred of hesitation left within him now.

"No, wait! Stop!" She tries again but she should have learned that there is no happy ending for her. Tomas' length rubs against her wet pussy, coating it in all her slick and warmth. She can hear him panting just from this, she knows he is excited to fuck her. He's so eager, desperately rutting himself against her in an attempt to enter her.

"S-Shit, it won't go in..." Tomas breaths as he rushes to penetrate that which does not belong to him. He moves a hand to stabilize himself and finally the bulbous and engorged tip spreads her apart. Eyes fly open and a back in bending. No...No! Walls are pried apart as his cock makes its shaky way inside her. Further and further those spongy walls are pulled apart but oh do they cling and wrap around him.

Tomas is moaning, watching as her greedy pussy swallows up his cock from tip to base. Hips slam together and now he is fully nestled inside. The warmth, the comfort, there no better bliss than to be engulfed by her. Tomas lightly swivels his hips, this length moving so snugly against her insides and she cries out.

"You're so tight...sucking me in like that. Such a great pussy. Damn, babe, I can hardly move you're clinging to me so much." She hates that he is right. She hates how her pussy so quickly wrapped around his cock as if he were her dear husband. Tomas can only move his hips shallowly, allowing her pussy to adjust to the foreign intrusion. Her mind knows this is wrong, that she only wants to ever do something like this with her husband but the body wants what it craves. Right now it craves the maelstrom that is Tomas.

Brows pinch together and fingers bruise tender flesh, Tomas can't tolerate this pace any longer. He needs more, he will have more. Skin against skin, the slap of it such a beautiful symphony that fills the room as he begins to fuck her tight little cunt raw. Each thrust brings forth a moan from both of them.

"So good, you feel so good." words slip between breaths as Tomas continues to ravage her. "Your cunt is so fucking tight. It feels like you're suffocating me, babe. Shit, your pussy is the best."

The words have her sick yet his body has her reaching divinity more and more. His cock stretches and fills up all of her, she can feel him so deep inside.

"T-Tomas...please..-" words cannot continue, the moans and mewls leave no room for them.

The sound of his names coming from her lewd and plush lips has Tomas throbbing and straining inside her. "Y-Yeah! Say my name again! Fuck, say my name again, babe!"

She resists, biting her bottom lip and sucking it in. No, she can't. She mustn't moan the name of another man. Her silence is infuriating and Tomas grits his teeth. A hand raises only to come down upon the flesh of her round and shapely ass. The skin there like rippling waves and her entire body tensing and Tomas feels every little bit of it.

"S-Shit! You're squeezing my dick so much! Fuck, you like that? Fucking dirty bitch...!" So horrible, so wonderful. No, this can't be.

Once again his hand punishes her and she can only whimper and shake under him. Her body responds the same, with lust and treachery. She thinks of Bi-Han and her eyes close. Apologies ring in her head over and over again. They compete with the corruption that is pleasure and all of its temptations.

"Such a good slut. God, I love you so much. You feel amazing!" Words from him begin to strain as colors so unspeakable begin to rise into view. "I just can't stop fucking you."

Her body never wants him to stop. The sex he gives so brutal, so feral. They like animals mating with the way they move and moan. Her head is dizzy, her pussy is wet and dripping, it's so good, it's too good.

"T-Tomas..!" A bond is broken, a name is said. "Tomas! I-I can't...!"

She can and she will. Tomas slams himself into her abused cunt again and again, the sounds of their sex so mind numbing. "That's it! Say my name again! S-Shit...I'm not gonna last...!"

Horror, terror, the realization. He's going to cum, he's going to finish soon. No! No! Please not that! "N-Not...inside! You can't!" Those the only words she can manage but they are not the words Tomas wanted.

"Inside? Yeah, Imma cum inside you. I'm gonna cum inside your slutty pussy." Tomas steels himself, he will have no other option. It is his right to do so. She always belonged to him. "Fuck that...idiot Bi-Han. Stealing you from me like that. You should be my wife."

The heat, it is rising it is coiling. Her walls tremble to match his throbbing length. Together they dance, together they reach the sky. Such beautiful rhythms around his cock she provides as her orgasm overtakes her into the pits of calamity.

Her undoing only fuels Tomas and the twisted thoughts within his head. "Yeah, yeah that's right. Cum on my cock! You fucking love it. You love when I fuck you!"

It should have been him. It should have always been him. What would Bi-Han think now? What would he think if he saw his wife having sex with his inferior brother? The thought drives Tomas to manic raptor.

"I'm gonna cum in you. Gonna fill you up real nice. Hey..." wicked thoughts become villainous. "How about I cum inside of you and get you knocked up? Yeah, I think I'll fuck a baby into you. That'll show Bi-Han."

Bi-Han, her husband, the love of her life. The man who she promised herself to but now here she is being fucked by another and cumming around his cock. Her thoughts are ripped away as Tomas sharply pulls on her arm, forcing her back to curve and bend.

A craned neck, moans cannot hide themself and go birthed into the warm air. Tomas groans, Tomas grunts, driven now by a sinister purpose. He'll fuck her so full. He'll paint her insides until there will be no choice but to remember him forever. He loves her. He loves her so much.

Strings of white pearls erupt within a warm and welcoming home. So painted, so tarnished. His cock so buried inside her, he's cumming so much. It's never ending, there's too much! Tomas pulls from her cum stained pussy, spurts still releasing and sticking to her now reddening ass. So sticky and sweet he has made her, watching over her body as she falls to the floor, spent and used.

Tomas pants, enjoying the masterpiece he has created. She lays so cold, eyes filled with tears and pussy so filled with seed that didn't belong to her husband. She cannot move, she cannot bring herself to do much of anything.

Behind her there is movement and the youngest Lin Kuei brother is fixing his clothes, getting himself ready to depart.

"That was really great!" so casual, as if nothing had happened. "We'll have to have fun like that again. Fuck you were just as good as I always thought."

Now he would never have to only imagine it. Now he has the experience to relish in and return to. Turning to leave, Tomas pauses before opening the door.

"Oh and you won't tell Bi-Han, right? Hah, what am I saying, of course you won't tell him!"

Why is he right?

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat fanworks #mk1 2023 #mortal kombat headcanons #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #tomas vrbada #tomas x reader #tomas x you #tw: dubcon #tw: noncon

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

So Me and my boyfriend have been dating since highschool Jr year. It's been a while since then, I'm in trade school and he works at McDonald's. Lately, he's been working very late, for two weeks straight and I understand he's been busy but it feels like he was ignoring me Because the times he was "working" were more than 8-hour long shifts. This cycle kept repeating for 2 weeks and during these 2 weeks, I would express to him that I felt ignored and neglected since he barely had been speaking to me. I was lucky if I got 10 texts a day at most. Which compared to before was very little. I would tell him how I felt and he would apologize saying "sorry babe didn't mean to make you feel that way" and then he would turn around and ignore me again in the same day or the day after. This started to wear on me and it felt like I was being brushed off each time. And this Thursday it all came to a head. For context I suffer from bpd, and being ignored triggers me, I am working on the issue and trying to be better but these past 2 weeks it feels like he was just doing the one thing I asked him not to do, over and over again. And he didn't communicate very well to me, if he was stressed with work or having issues at home I would have understood if he briefly explained. But he didn't I would ask him over and over again if he was okay and he'd just brush me off and say he's fine.

This last thrusday though he did the same thing, from Thursday 9 am to 7. He was "working" and only sent me 4 texts that day. I asked him what was up and why he won't communicate with me and he ignored me MORE. And I had enough and just blew up, I told him that how he was treating me isn't fair, and it's making me unhappy and I feel negelcted and not loved, I told him I felt like he was pushing me away and for what reason I'm not sure. I was fed up and told him if he wanted to break up we could but if he didn't he should call me to work things out. He didn't call me and ignored me more. I took a few hours to myself and then I texted him to explain more, and kind of apologize. I told him that I didn't mean to be so explosive with my anger but I still feel like my dwellings were valid and I explained to him that he just went cold on me for two weeks and didn't explain anything to me. And it feels like I cannot reach him anymore, and that I don't want to break up and work on things if I made him unhappy. But it wasn't fair for him to go cold on me like that. I told him I loved him but there's only so much I can take and I needed space, He once again ignored me. This time going silent for 3 days completely.

I texted him like a day later asking if we could speak the following day. Nothing. I asked him the next day if we could meet to the same day, ignored again. I was worried about him so I texted him again the next day asking if he was at least okay and he ignored me for a couple of hours, before saying he was fine and he's not ready to talk. I respected that and told him I understand and to text when he was ready. I also apologized to him and told him that i was truly sorry for how i acted and that he didnt deserve that. He lied again and said he had work that day (it was Sunday, before the fight happened he told me he ONLY had Sunday off, I'm pretty sure it's illegal to have someone working for 7 days straight) I didn't call him out on this because I was scared I'd upset him more so I just told him I loved him and to have a good day at work.

He ignored me, again.

Please be so honest, am I the asshole? I feel like the asshole for blowing up on him and I know it was wrong for me to do that to him but I just felt stuck and emotionally stuck after being hurt by him almost daily and telling him so only to get ignored. On my end this feels shitty, and I do wish I could take back what happened but I can't. I also feel this is unfair, everytime My feelings get hurt and I express them he doesn't go to the same lengths to Apologize or make it up to me or even make a long term change, but when I hurt his feelings he acts like this and acts like I just committed some war crime against him. Maybe im being unfair but I feel unheard. I'm afraid this may be the end of our relationship and i dont want that.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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thewalkingwillowtree · 15 days

Text

Safe Haven

Series Part Listing Found Here

Neteyam x Original Na'vi Female Character

Summery: Seeking refuge, Xilä and her father venture to the lands of the Omatikaya clan, in the hopes that the Toruk Makto would be generous in allowing them to stay. This is her story about not only finding her strength, but finding love.

Warning: This story contains smut, violence & abuse (please don't read if these topics will affect you)

Some characters have been aged up. Neteyam in particular is 25.

Xilä is my own creation.

WAIT! Please note this part contains time skips.

Part 21 - Epilogue

‘Xilä’s in labor.’

‘My wife is about to have my kid.’

‘Holy shit, my kid. Mine…’

‘I’m going to be a father.’

‘Fuck, I don’t know if I can do this.’

To say Neteyam was freaking out was putting it mildly and- Oh fuck. His damn father-in-law was walking towards him. The last thing he wanted was for the man to see him like this.

The first time Neteyam had a full conversation with Jxo, he was ten years old.

To him, Jxo had always been a man of very few words. He never smiled, hated small talk and was extremely intimidating. But he was also incredibly respected throughout the entire clan, and well, Salveen liked him a lot, and so did bossy D’avi, so those were good enough reasons for the ten year old to think him alright.

Being the chief’s son brought its fair share of challenges. There was a time when a group of boys tried to bully him over his “golden boy” status. Neteyam had fought back- and lost.

He was ten, and a mess after. And instead of returning home, he ran to Sal’s but she’d already gone to the kitchens that evening.

Jxo, seeing his cuts and bruises beckoned him in and silently cleaned his injuries- a split lip, swollen cheek, scraped knees and bloody knuckles.

And when the man finally asked, “What happened?”

Neteyam broke down and sobbed. He was hysterical and mad at himself for not being strong, mad that he was even crying. He was a man for Eywa sake! A soldier! A warrior! Just like his dad.

But that day he was grateful that Jxo didn’t treat him like a silly kid- like everyone else did. Jxo calmed him. He was his usual gruff self and spoke to him straight. Treated him like an equal and imparted words of advice Neteyam needed to hear.

Flash forward to fifteen years later, on the night that he would become a father for the first time, Neteyam was hysterical just like that very day.

Xilä’s water had only broken half an hour ago and Neteyam was spiralling- or freaking out as his visiting brother had been teasing. Irritated and short tempered, he snapped at anyone who got too close to his mate who had been slowly pacing up and down the interior of the Tsahìk’s tent while her birthing room was being prepared.

And just like he did fifteen years ago, Jxo and his no nonsense- never one to beat around the bush, pulled him outside and called him an idiot- a skxawng, telling him he needed to to get his shit together and stop snarling and hissing at everyone like a “fucking palulukan”.

When he’d finished telling him off, he blew out a breath then continued- far gentler or as gentle the man could be, parting fatherly words of wisdom and advice with a comforting hand clasped on his shoulder.

Neteyam humbled himself and took it all in, and by the end he felt lighter, calmer and far more level headed.

With a final, “Don’t fuck it up. She needs you. So get in there, skxawng,” the soon to be father chuckled with a brisk nod, thanked the elder and headed towards his wife.

“Swear I’ve gone back twenty-five years,” Jake murmured in disbelief at his grandson in his arms. “He looks just like you did, son.”

Neytiri hastily wiped a tear that escaped her as she too stared transfixed.

“He’s got Xi’s eyes,” Neteyam announced proudly as he lingered closely.

“And her ears,” his mother noted with another sniffle. “He’s beautiful.” Neytiri gently stroked Sprout’s little fist. “Jake, you've had him long enough. It is my turn again,” she bossed her husband.

Passed over to his grandmother, their baby made a soft sound. He whined and twisted slightly before settling back into sleep.

Jxo pressed another kiss to the top of his daughter’s head as she rested against his shoulder. “I’m so proud of you, darling,” her father told her for the third time since their parents were let in. “You did good.”

Sal nodded in agreement, her own eyes swimming in happy tears as she tucked a few of Xi’s braids behind her ear and continued to fuss over her- pouring her another cup of tea to help with the pain.

Xilä was exhausted but yet a soft smile still graced her face as she watched their parents meet their son for the first time. Jxo was the first to hold him after he’d greeted her with quiet words of praise. And just like Mo’at did, when she eased her son into her father’s arms, she didn’t miss the way his eyes glistened.

The entire moment was heartwarming, yet slightly comical to a degree. She grinned as she watched her husband hover protectively, scrutinizing every move any of them made as they held their child.

Even when Jake huffed amused, stating, “You know I had four of you right? I think I know how to hold a baby,” even then Neteyam didn’t care, he still fretted and lectured and adjusted their holds.

“Oh Eywa, you’re going to be a father just like my Jxo, aren’t you?” Sal chuckled and gently adjusted her grandson with the unnecessary aid of her son-in-law who had told her for the third time to, “Watch his head.”

“Huh?” Neteyam asked, baffled, the same time Jxo released a noise of offence.

“Yes, yes. He never liked anyone holding our D’avi. So protective he was.” She hummed wistfully at the memory, eyes never leaving the little one who had taken hold of her finger. “You are so sweet, yes you are. Hi. Hi,” she whispered softly as he blinked up at her, waking from his doze.

“This does not surprise me,” Neytiri chimed in. “Neteyam was never very good at sharing the things he loves. Xilä, and now our grandson will be included as well I’m afra- Oh Sal, look at his eyes.”

“Mom!”

But she ignored him since her and Sal’s attention laid solely on baby Sprout who was yawning, tiny body stretching in Sal’s hold.

“We’d be lucky if we ever get to see the kid,” Jake said, joining in on the teasing. “Knowing our son, he’d keep them locked away.”

Neytiri frowned at this. “My sweet Xi, you won’t let him hide the two of you away all the time, yes? I would like to see my grandson whenever I so pl-”

“Mom. Of course you’d get to see him.” Then after a long pause Neteyam continued with, “But there will be boundaries, and Xilä and I would expect that you all would… respect them.”

Jake covered his grin of amusement behind his fist and Jxo hid his in Xi’s hair- both men’s eyes automatically cutting to their wives who both had identical looks of indignation. In their heads Neteyam might as well just said they weren’t allowed to see their grandson… ever.

The women looked about ready to protest, but in the end they gave their agreement without so much as a peep. Neytiri however did reach out and pull her son- who was twice her size- into a hug with a, “Eywa, my baby is all grown up now.”

“Can I have him, mother?” Xi was itching to have her son back in her arms. It hadn’t been long but she missed him already.

Neteyam was the one to pass him over. His palm found Xi’s nape, thumb stroking her cheek as he stole a kiss from her, uncaring of their audience.

Sprout stretched with another yawn, fingers opening then curling back up before he nosed at her chest instinctively, cooing a tiny fuss as his legs kicked out.

Xi tossed a thin cloth over shoulder, covering herself and the babe. She bared one breast and guided him to her nipple. Her baby latched eagerly, little mouth suckling with gusto.

She knew it was probably a bit silly to want privacy since it was a natural thing to nurse one’s baby in the open. But she wasn’t there quite yet.

Eyes closed, she listened to the quiet conversation around her and leaned heavily on her husband who curled around her.

“What have you decided to name him?” Jxo asked his son-in-law. “Have you chosen yet?

Xilä felt smiling lips against her forehead.

“Zyden. Our son’s name is Zyden.”

Neteyam made his way towards the lively activity at the southern border of the clan- eyes roaming quickly to take in every inch of the scene.

The mission fleet that had just returned were being aided- travel packs and goods were unloaded while ikran wranglers steadied the restless mountain beasts.

After being months apart, riders were greeted with open arms by their waiting families and judging by the ease of their smiling faces, Neteyam breathed a small sigh of relief that there seemed to be no pressing worries.

Tasam who’d led said mission was already talking to the chief. Jake nodded at whatever it was he’d said then clapped him on the shoulder before making his way towards another warrior.

Neteyam had missed Tasam, he realized. Seeing him after so long filled him with nostalgia, and the memory of them meeting for the first time on their very first day of Iknimaya training played in his mind.

“‘Teyam! You look good, brother,” Tasam called out. He met him halfway, crooked smile wide at the sight of his comrade and friend. “Fatherhood suits you.”

Neteyam couldn’t hide his pride as they clasped arms in greeting. “Tasam, welcome home. My son… Zyden,” he introduced, titling so that Tasam had a better view of the three month old strapped to his chest.

A soft swear word escaped Tasam when he saw the baby. He reached out and ran a knuckle along the back of Sprout’s hand in amazement. “He favors your looks.”

Zyden’s wide silver eyes tracked Tasam’s hand. He cooed loudly then promptly shoved his little fist against his mouth, making sucking sounds as he drooled all over his knuckles.

“I can’t believe I missed so much. How’s Xi? The birth went well?”

“It did, thank Eywa and she’s great. Tired but great.”

Tasam grinned at his friend’s expression. Neteyam was a hardass and as serious as they came. He always seemed to wear a mask of impassiveness that was near impossible to discern most days. Today however, the mask was nowhere to be seen.

“It’s good to see you this happy.”

“Eywa has bountifully blessed me, how could I not be?” He jerked his head, gesturing for them to walk onwards, a large protective palm resting beneath Zyden. “Tell me, how was the trip? I’m sorry we missed you before you left. I didn’t know you’d be gone so long.”

“I share the same sentiments. As for the trip, it was… interesting. The Sarentu clan… they’re in a bad way. The couple months we stayed we managed to make some good changes, but they still need all the help they can get. I’m hoping another fleet can ride out before the end of the week.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Their clan is but a fraction of ours and they’re unable to help themselves properly. They have maybe five- six, capable hunters?” he said exasperated. “The clan is exposed. Not enough warriors to provide protection. Not enough hunters to provide food. It is a wonder they have survived this long.”

Neteyam considered his words. “It is things like this that make me glad my father reached out and started this entire initiative. Their chief said as much back at Awa’atlu. He came mainly in the hope that would help.”

With the nearest cluster of communities in sight, Tasam slowed his stroll causing Neteyam to do the same.

During their walk the father had kept periodically checking in on his son who seemed settled and content against him. Looking down, he saw that Zyden’s eyelids were slowly drooping, little mouth quivering in his sleep as though he were feeding.

“Do you think Kiri would like bellsprigs? As a gift I mean… It's kind of rare here but bountiful near this clearing I found back at Sarentu.”

The sudden topic change had Neteyam blinking in confusion.

“Um, sure? I think she’d like them. Wait, aren't those extremely dangerous to harvest?”

“They are- were,” Tasan held up his palm showing off a deep gash that was still healing, “but it’s Kiri. I’d do anything for her.”

“Huh… You really like her, don’t you?” He got no response and halted, noting his friend was no longer walking beside him. “What is it?”

“I-” Tasam looked uncomfortable now and was no longer meeting his gaze. “I-” He hesitated again and rubbed at his brow, frowning deeply, almost as if he’d forgotten what he was supposed to say.

“Tas-”

“I wish for your permission to court Kiri,” he rushed out.

A long uncomfortable silence proceeded before Neteyam found his voice again. “You- uh, well why are you asking me? Shouldn’t you be asking my parents?”

“I’m planning on it. I asked the chief if I could meet with him and your mother after I give my full report tomorrow,” he scratched his neck, “I suppose he knows what I’m going to ask. Your father gave me this weird, blank look then sort of reluctantly agreed… But I- you see…”

It was jarring and almost amusing to Neteyam to see his friend so scatterbrained and fidgety. Was he… nervous? Shit, he was.

“What I’m trying and evidently failing to say here, is- I care for your sister. She has my whole heart and… and although you are my commanding officer and my future chief and I have the highest of respect for you… You’re also my closest friend, and as Kiri’s brother, I’d very much like to have your permission in addition to your parents’.”

Eywa. Neteyam really wished his mate was here. He was not good with these kinds of situations. Not when it came to his sisters. No wonder Jxo always looked like he was about ready to punch his face most times.

Kiri and Tasam…? His sister and his- well who was Neteyam kidding, Tasam was as good as his best friend. Why did this all seem like a surprise to him though? He somehow knew it would be coming… didn’t he?

He thought back to every interaction between the two. The man was smitten with Kiri, and Kiri… well, Kiri was near unrecognizable around Tasam.

He made her happy.

That was all that mattered, no?

“You have my permission.”

Tasam’s jaw fell a little, then he straightened up when Neteyam’s face turned mildly murderous.

“But you should know, my sister is precious. I don’t care if you hurt her unintentionally or not… you know what I’m capable of.”

It should’ve been difficult to take the mighty Neteyam’s threats to heart when he had an adorable infant strapped to his chest. But Tasam still felt the sting of his words.

“Are you nervous to ask my parents?” Neteyam asked when they’d made it to the heart of Home Camp.

“Am I nervous to ask the clan’s Olo'eyktan and Olo'eykte if I could court their eldest daughter? That’s a joke right?” Tasam huffed. “Course I’m nervous. But I’ve been wanting this for Kiri and I for so long now. That and I already told Kiri I was going to ask her when you all got back.”

Neteyam laughed, accidentally waking his son who woke with a startled cry. He was quick to comfort the baby with soothing strokes and pats on the back. He also gave him his index finger to hold which of course Zyden instantly put in his mouth.

“You told Kiri you were going to ask her before you asked for my parents permission?”

Tasam back slapped his arm, careful not to jostle the baby. “If I remember correctly, you did about the same thing with your Xilä.”

“Shit, that’s right.”

“And worse… It was all the clan could talk about for months, some still to this very day. No meeting of the parents, no announcements, no ceremonies, no-”

“Alright alright, you made your poi-”

“You’re back!” a distant voice called excitedly.

Kiri’s smile was almost giddy as she made her way closer and from the look of Tasam’s he was probably- nope, definitely worse.

Ugh. Neteyam was suddenly nauseous. While the duo reunited- lovestruck gazes locked on each other, he focused on his son who was still biting away on his finger, drool leaking down his chin and along Neteyam’s palm.

“Your aunty Kiri and her new boyfriend are going to make your poor daddy sick, aren't they,” he whisper-sang to his son. “Yes they are.”

Zyden smiled up at this father as if he understood, gurgling while flashing his gums.

“Oh here, let me help you with that.” Tasam swooped in with ease and hefted the heavy basket Kiri had been straining with.

“Thank you.” Her cheeks were flushed and she bit her lip to tame her smile while she and the warrior continued to fail at being non obvious lovesick fools.

Zyden’s coo broke their spell.

“‘Teyam!” Kiri exclaimed as if shocked to see him standing there.

“Kiri.”

“And Zyden!” His sister snagged the baby right out of his carrier and held him close, squishing his cheek against hers as she rocked him.

Zyden looked slightly alarmed, eyes wide at the sudden movement but he did not cry.

Neteyam simply sighed at the pair all the while and of course, the mighty Tasam was just about melting at the sight.

“What are you up to, my love?”

The baby turned and gave his mother a cheeky grin that showed off all four of his baby teeth and it just about melted her heart.

But Xi wasn’t fooled by his cuteness, she saw the glint of mischief shining through his expression.

The determined thing waited until she was busy folding another large sheet before he went off again, crawling towards his most recent fasciation.

“Zyden.” Xilä’s tone was soft but firm. “Uh-uh. No playing over there.”

Zyden released an unhappy whine at the reprimand. And despite his mother’s warning, he still reached and held onto the bottom of the wooden shelf to pull himself up on wobbly legs.

Even though the shelf that housed her husband’s weapons was sturdy and Xi knew the baby couldn’t reach anything, she still corrected her son- letting him know it was dangerous.

His little leg tried to lift, dangling with nowhere to perch. Not getting anywhere, he stomped his foot in frustration, though it didn’t stop him from trying again.

“Zyden Sully!” Xi clicked her tongue and shook her head. “Uh-uh, mama said no. Come down from there.”

At that, his tiny face scrunched up in anger, bottom lip pouting as tears rapidly pooled along his lash line. He pointed at the shelf and babbled his displeasure.

“I know. I know. But you’re too young for those. When you’re older I’m sure daddy will love teaching you to use them.”

Zyden drew a long, silent breath then promptly wailed louder with his head thrown back. One would swear she’d just ruined his entire life.

“Aw, come here, my love.”

She could sense a full blown tantrum brewing and since Sal had told her earlier Zyden missed his afternoon nap, Xi expected her son would turn tired and cranky right around this time.

Laundry forgotten and scattered around her, she gave him her full attention, beckoning him over.

“Zyden, my heart, come here.”

Listening, he carefully fell to his butt and crawled towards her. “Mma-ma,” he cried, tiny tail flicking back and forth as he moved.

How was he so perfect?

Xi gathered him into her arms the second he was within reach and smothered him with kisses- forehead, cheeks, nose, angry twitching ears.

“See? This is why we shouldn’t miss nap time, my love. So cranky,” she cooed in a singsong tone.

He rubbed his eyes and yawned tiredly- proving her point, then impatiently pawed at the cloth that covered her chest.

“Hang on, hang on.”

Settling him against her breast, he nursed more for comfort than hunger and while he fed, Xi stared down at him in adoration. She hummed a song and wiped away his lingering tears, thumb sliding across baby soft skin.

She marvelled over his wild curls while brushing them off his forehead and laughed quietly when he offered her his little foot for her to kiss, tiny toes wiggling cutely.

Nipple still in mouth, he smiled and reached up to pat her cheek, fingers gentle and stroking much like she’d done to him.

The action caused a tiny pang of sadness to hit her. He was growing up so fast- too fast.

Every one of his milestones filled her with pride- his first smile, first laugh, first word. She may have shed a tear or two over his first tooth… and maybe over the second, third and fourth ones too. And although she was eager for all the other firsts- especially his first steps, each new milestone always reminded her that he wouldn’t remain a baby forever, so she made sure to relish every moment.

The clanking sounds of their tent’s chimes alerted her that someone was here, and then the beaming face of her husband entering their home came into view.

“I’m home!”

Meal forgotten, Zyden grappled and used her top to help pull himself seated, legs and arms kicking and flailing excitedly at the sight of his daddy, gums and four little teeth proudly on display.

“Look who’s here, Sprout. Who’s that?”

He glanced back at her and pointed at Neteyam who was hurriedly putting away his things.

Zyden prattled a garble of baby talk, tail slashing so fast, Xi thought it’d flick right off.

Unable to contain himself any longer and with a loud gleeful shriek, their son crawled right out of her lap and charged full speed across the tapestry-covered ground, towards his father- all traces of his mini tantrum gone.

Neteyam laughed while scooping him up and tossed him in the air before settling him high on his chest. “Why are you naked, huh little man?” He smacked noisy kisses to Zyden’s chubby cheeks making the baby squeal happily.

“Your son figured out how to remove his tewng this evening.” Xi adjusted her top and picked up a towel to resume her folding. “Every time I put it back on, he took it off and the game seemed never ending, so I let him win for today.”

“Oh yeah?” Neteyam grinned proudly, as if she’d told him his son had accomplished some massive achievement. “You’re so clever, Zyden. Daddy’s so proud of you.”

Xilä paused and simply stared at her two favourite people in the universe. Eywa, did she love them with her entire being.

“Mmba-Da-da.” Zyden babbled, tiny palms smacking Neteyam’s cheek and nose and mouth until he spotted and made a grab for the lone string of beads in his daddy’s hair.

“That’s right, Sprout, that’s me! I’m daddy.”

Only recently and after a lot of coaxing, Zyden had started saying dada. Xilä didn’t think she’d ever seen her husband cry that much when he’d said it, but then again she herself was a sobbing sap when his first word was mama.

Neteyam made his way over and crouched down to greet his wife. She kissed him back and they both broke out into laughter when Sprout leaned over to do the same- drooly lips open against her cheek in his version of a kiss.

As soon as he was set down, Zyden crawled off towards a forgotten toy. He tossed it away then charged after it, finding fun in doing it over and again.

“I spoke to Lo’ak and Tsireya this morning,” Neteyam said conversationally as he started helping her fold the laundry.

“‘Teyam,” she interrupted, using her “mom voice” as her husband so liked to call it. Xi had gotten distracted by the article he’d chosen to fold.

“What?” he asked in faux innocence. Neteyam snatched up another one after folding it to his best and shot her a naughty wink.

Her mate always went for her undercloths first, forever eager to handle the intimate, flimsy things. She shook her head and snickered while he continued on, telling her about Awa’atlu updates.

The pair chatted about their day- him informing of the new shipment of goods they were preparing to send to the Sarentu and Ta'unui clans, and her prattling on about her early morning lesson with Mo’at and then filling him in on their son’s fascination with his shelf of weapons.

At some point Zyden had grown bored of his toy and fussily demanded his daddy’s attention. Neteyam dramatically tossed him amidst a pile of clean furs, keeping him entertained as they fought playfully.

Later on, it was a battle to get Zyden to put his tewng back on, much less keep it on, but soon after, the little family of three made their way to the communal dinner, with their baby babbling the entire way there.

As if he belonged to her, Neytiri plucked their son out of his father’s arms the second they entered the clearing. Zyden was passed around from grandparent to grandparent before he finally settled contentedly next to his aunty Tuk who fussed over him as if she were a grown up.

It was honestly quite cute seeing her break off tiny pieces of soft root vegetables and feed them to him. She offered him sips of her water which just splashed right down his chest and scolded him lightly when he ate too fast.

Neytiri, who was nearer, kept careful watch and intercepted fast grabby hands whenever Zyden went after something he wasn’t supposed to. Neteyam chuckled from his spot when his son made a dive for poor Tasam’s teylu.

The baby was most unhappy when his grandmother lifted him away with a chiding. He even gave Tuk what looked like a glare of betrayal after she giggled saying, “Zyyyyden. You don’t even have enough teeth to eat that, silly.”

Midway through their meal, D’av and her family showed up. L’eya- toddler on a mission, plopped herself into Xi’s lap to excitedly show her a bug she’d found on the way. “It- it prewdy huh, aunty Xi? An it-it glows and eberyting too. See?”

Xi oohed and awed over the bug in her niece’s palm and Neteyam did the same- pausing his conversation with Jake when she crawled into his lap as well, before eventually running off to do the same with her grandparents.

“You’re late. You hate being late,” Xi teased her sister who settled beside her. She frowned when she really looked at her sister. “Are you unwell? You’re pale. Here let me see your-”

D’avi brushed her fussing off. “Stop that. If mother catches you she’s going to come over here and I don’t need that right now. You’re forgetting Yalnïk and I have two toddlers to wrangle, can you blame me for being la- why are you looking at me like that?”

The older woman dropped all pretense when she saw her sister’s shocked expression turn into a knowing grin.

Sighing in defeat, D’avi glanced around their family huddle to make sure they weren’t being overheard by their parents.

Their mother and father thankfully, both had their hands full. Jxo was eating while balancing Zyden on his knee- the baby focused as he chewed away on a massive piece of fruit and Sal had both L’eo and L’eya who she was fawning over and feeding out of her own meal.

“You can’t tell our parents yet,” D’avi barely whispered.

“D’av.” Xi’s tail couldn’t keep its cool, it sprung high in excitement. “So you’re actually-”

“Yep… pregnant. I’m pretty sure it happened the night when Bwiin went and snitched on us.” She scoffed. “Our party was not that loud.”

Xilä remembered that night. She breastfed so she didn’t indulge in the sweetened wines that were being passed around… D’avi however had just stopped with her little ones, so she went all out, and was pretty much the life of the party. They’d gotten so rowdy, Bwiin, their mother’s nosy and grouchy friend had gone and reported them for disturbing the peace.

Xi bit her lip. “The night you got drunk at Leati’s bacholet party? And Yalnïk had to come get you?” She butchered that word for sure- every time too.

It was a surprise that Leati even wanted to take part in the odd human custom, but Xilä realized that Ze’lu brought out a side to the woman that outshined her cold and somewhat mean disposition.

“Yeah. I jumped my mate the moment he tossed my ass in bed... Ugh, and I’ve been so, so cautious, Xi and the one time, the one time I forget to have the damn tea. Bam. Pregnant.” She sighed. “Oh Eywa, truly I pray it’s not twins again.”

“Are you happy about this though? I can’t tell.”

D’avi’s eyes turned watery. “Of course I’m happy. To be honest I don’t think it’s completely registered yet, but yes. I’m so happy, Xi. And Yalnïk, ugh. The man is so damn excited. He’s already hovering and-”

“D’av! Do you want ovumshrooms?”

“Yes, please,” she answered her mate who was currently putting out their food. “He’s the best isn’t he? I mean look at his face, and his body. I’m the luckiest woman in this entire clan, aren’t I?”

Xi smiled, she felt the exact same way about her own husband.

She turned towards her son when she heard his cry of frustration. Tuk had just taken something out of his hand when he tried shoving it in his mouth. Zyden seemed to be telling her off in his baby speech, and kept reaching for it, whines turning fussier despite Tuk calmly telling him it wasn’t food.

“Zyden,” Neteyam called from beside her.

Their baby pointed at Tuk, as if begging his daddy to make her give it back to him.

Xilä knew he wouldn’t last much longer. He was tired and cranky and fighting sleep ever since he missed his afternoon nap. She watched him struggle to decide whether to cry or not. Luckily, Zyden was distracted by L’eo’s giggle, so he crawled off towards cousins.

L’eya was all smiles for the baby. She poked his nose in greeting, mouth full as she chewed her food. L’eo offered him some of the buoyfish he’d been feasting on but Sal was quick to give her youngest grandchild a piece of a mashed bean pod instead.

D’avi’s low groan pulled Xi’s attention away from their children. Her nose was wrinkled at the meat in her husband’s leaf plate.

“Sorry, sorry.” Yalnik moved his plate around so it wasn’t too close to her and struck up a conversation with Tasam and Kiri who were on his other side.

“How are you feeling this time around?” Xi asked. She handed her sister a piece of cider root to chew on.

“My morning sickness feels more like all day sickness and I’ve got this lingering headache that refuses to go away. I’ve drank every tea possible to help ebb my symptoms and they all refuse to work. Can I come by the healer tents tomorrow? So you can check me over, make sure everything’s okay? I’ve been putting off doing that.”

“Of course, D’av.”

“Eywa. Mother will be mighty pleased. Just look at her now.”

Sal was in her element. The grandmother had all three little ones surrounding her. It was impossible to miss the happiness radiating off of her.

At home, Zyden was usually clingy with Xilä and she relished in the feeling of him being attached to her, whether it was to be carried or simply wanting her attention at all times. But she wouldn’t be lying when she said she also loved seeing Sprout socialize and bond with their family- especially with his grandparents. It was something she certainly never had growing up.

Another fifteen minutes passed before it finally happened.

“Xiiii!” Tuk groaned dramatically as she hefted and carried a wiggly crying Zyden from under his arms. The baby was already reaching out and calling for her. “Sprout wants you. Oof! He’s getting so heavy,” she half laughed, half huffed when handing him over.

“Hello, my love, are you being a naughty Na'vi for your aunty Tuk?”

Zyden didn’t waste any time, he stuck his little fist right down her top and gave a frustrated grizzle.

“Thanks for taking care of him for us, Tuk.”

The little girl beamed at Xi’s praise, and giggled when Neteyam attacked her with his own brotherly affection before she dashed off.

Xilä quickly tugged down the front of her top and Zyden eagerly found and latched onto her nipple to nurse. She smiled when his small sticky hand rested on her breast as his eyes instantly began to droop.

“I’m surprised he lasted this long,” Neteyam joked. He leaned over to kiss and nuzzle Zyden’s chubby cheek as he suckled, soft feeding sounds and breathy baby gulps making him and Xi smile at each other.

L’eo appeared not too long after, food grease shining all over his face and chest. “I all done wid my food,” he told his mother proudly.

D’avi chuckled. “Good job, baby.” She pulled him closer and wiped his face and hands despite his squirming.

When he made his escape, he approached his aunty. “I play with Zyhen, pwease, addy Xi.”

“Aw, I’m sorry, sweetie, but he’s falling asleep.” Xi caressed his cheek in apology. “You’ll get to see him tomorrow, okay?”

Poor L’eo looked so disappointed. His pout deepened when he turned to find his sister amongst their family, only to find she was already dozing in her grandfather’s lap.

“C’mere bud,” Yalnïk reached out and scooped him up and D’avi turned to give them both her attention.

Xi covered herself back up when she felt her nipple slip from Zyden’s lips.

“Oh he’s out,” Neteyam laughed. He gathered their milk drunk baby in his arms and wiped away the trail of liquid that ran down his chubby cheek and into his little neck folds.

“He’s growing up too fast,” Xi sighed, leaning against her husband to peer at their son. Their baby was sprawled without a care in the world, sticky coated skin, pudgy little tummy on display, tail curled up contentedly. “I feel like I blinked and now look at him. Gosh I’m going to miss this age.”

Neteyam nodded in agreement. He kissed her forehead then whispered, “I know the feeling all too well... But you know there’s a solution for that, right?”

“What do you mean?” she murmured, perching her chin on his bicep.

“You could always let me put another baby in you. Then another when they grow out of that age, and another when-”

Xilä pressed her fingers to his lips and snickered at his response. “May I remind you we are surrounded by our family. Don’t start with that if you’re not able to do anything about it right now,” she teased back.

A dangerous glint shined in his eyes, nostrils flaring at her words.

“I’m not teasing, Xilä. I'm completely serious.”

“Oh I know. If it were up to you you’d keep me round and pregnant for an eternity, right?” She tucked a braid behind his ear, not so accidentally brushing the tip of his pointed ear with her thumb and smiled when he gave a subtle shudder.

“You’re playing with fire, baby,” he warned but she simply gave him an innocent look and pretended she didn’t know what he was talking about.

“But on a serious note,” she whispered, “is it terrible that I just want to enjoy it being the three of us for now? I’m not saying no indefinitely, after Zyden I know for sure I want more, but he’s not even a year old yet, he hasn’t even taken his first steps. I want to give him as much attention and love as I can until we decide for sure to grow our family.”

“Nothing’s wrong with that, sweetheart. I like that plan.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm.” He sensed a lingering sadness from her, so to lighten the mood, he teased, “And anyway I’ll get to focus on getting my practice in while fucking you senseless.”

“Neteyam!” Her face bloomed in mortification and she glanced around to make sure he wasn’t overheard.

There’s that smile he so loved to see.

True to her word, L’eo got to see Zyden the next day.

The boys played loudly with the many block pieces their grandfather had crafted for them. L’eya seemed to find them too rowdy for her, so she sat in her own little world with her toys until Tuk had come by and joined in with her.

Xilä loved the sound of her son’s laugh and she loved the sounds of her home filled with children playing.

Zyden squealed and clapped excitedly when L’eo knocked down their pile of wooden blocks and then the two went back to building it all over again- it was mostly L’eo, but Zyden sure helped by handing him each piece.

They were so stinking cute.

A little later on when he seemed to have grown bored, her son sought her out. He crawled after her and patted her calf, tiny palms opening and closing- asking for up.

The second she lifted him, he cuddled her, little face snuggled into her neck and Xi soaked it all up. It was her favourite feeling in the universe.

Neteyam looked up from his whittling and was quick to join the two. He tried burying his face on the other side of her neck, but Zyden wasn’t having it.

Their son pushed his daddy’s face away along with a mess of protesting gibberish that had sounds like mama and dada scattered in between.

“I want cuddles too, you can’t have her to yourself,” Neteyam quarrelled with the biggest grin on his face.

“Ma-ma!” Zyden argued back fiercely. He leaned his head against hers- their cheeks squished together while he kept batting away his father’s affections for her.

“Ah,” Neteyam dodged another fist. “I’ll have you know she was mine first.”

“Ma-ma!” Zyden’s both arms locked around her neck. He gave her a wet sloppy kiss on the cheek and grinned wide, and those four little teeth just about killed her.

“Alright, alright. I’m jealous now. Come here, little man, I’ve got a bone to pick with you.” Neteyam stole him away and dramatically rolled them around on the floor. The baby shrieked and burst into breathy giggles as they play-fought.

Feeling like he was missing out on the fun, L’eo ran and jumped in with a roar. “I rescue you Zyhen!” To which Neteyam pulled him in too.

Xilä watched on and called out “oh no’s!” from the sidelines. Through her laughs she couldn’t help feel a bit emotional. Neteyam was an incredible mate, but he was an even better father.

When he cried out asking for her to come save him, she eagerly and happily joined in until they were all a pile of giggling limbs.

Pillow muffling her screams, Xilä arched as her mate licked her into another mind shattering orgasm.

It was the middle of the night and she’d already woken on the cusp of one, finding her legs thrown over his broad shoulders with his head bobbing eagerly between her thighs, licking and sucking like a starved man… and he hadn’t moved since.

“‘Teyam.” Shuddering as she came down from another high, she feebly tried to push his head away, hips failing to escape his clutches. She was too sensitive and he didn’t seem like he wanted to stop any time soon.

Yet he only tightened his grips and spread her legs wider, holding her firm with a bossy growl. “One more.”

One more. One more. That’s what he’d said the last two times.

Her voice hitched when he nipped then sucked her clit hard, silencing her protests. He stretched her with his fingers, adding one after the other until she was stuffed with all three- digits curling and fucking her just right.

White noise clouded her ears and her eyes rolled into her head. Body seizing up as it quickly prepared to shatter again, she struggled to keep her moans at bay. Her poor knuckles were painfully white from their tight grips- one fisted in her mate’s hair, holding on for dear life while the other squeezed the pillow she was biting into.

She could just about cry when Neteyam slowed his pace. The wicked man wanted to draw out her pleasure and no matter how much she tried to ride his fingers faster, she failed.

He pushed her hand away when she dared to reach for her throbbing clit. Eywa. She was near delusional at this point.

“Mine,” he’d snapped when she tried to touch again, and then as if teaching her a lesson, he simply reduced his actions even further, fingers curling deep and dragging torturously slow while he lazily lavished her clit with his tongue.

Turned into a mewling weepy mess, she was completely at his mercy. It seemed almost never ending.

Embarrassingly loud slick sounds emitted with every motion of his fingers making her arousal drench everything- his hand, face, her thighs, their sheets- shit, she’d just changed these sheets.

Xilä’s orgasm blindsided her, making her cry out and damn near suffocate her husband with her thighs as her entire body seized up.

She was almost sure she’d momentarily blacked out too, because when she finally came to her senses, her deep, heavy panting had calmed and the strong ripples of pleasure and orgasmic aftershocks had ebbed away, leaving her with lingering tingles.

Neteyam, as if he had all the time in the world, was sucking his fingers dry. It shouldn’t have been a sexy sight, but damn if it was.

Damn him.

Then the asshole dived back down to lick her clean.

WACK.

“Baby!” His jaw dropped and he was staring at her in surprise.

Xi had actually smacked him with her pillow when he had the audacity to run his tongue across her oversensitive clit. He got the message this time. He snickered and just moved along to lick away the slick that coated her inner thighs instead.

Through their bond, tsaheylu still intact from when they went to sleep, she felt him. Like a rolling storm, he was all consuming. He was so pent up and clouded her with his intensity, she wouldn’t be surprised if he combusted just then and there. It felt good to be the cause of it, honestly.

“You didn’t come?” Shit. She’d tried to move but her legs felt like flopping fish.

He shook his head and got up on his knees. She was greeted by an angry leaking dick, throbbing and needy in front her face.

Xilä licked her lips, and between her thighs pulsed at the sight of him. Sitting up, she watched him wrap a hand around himself and give a firm stroke, thumb swiping across his tip before dragging back down again.

Although she was still a bit light headed, just like he’d done earlier, she batted his hand away to grip him herself.

At this he let out a pleased little groan and threaded his fingers through her hair. His hips gave a sudden snap and his dick twitched when she pressed a teasing kiss to the head of it- barely even making contact.

Xilä smirked when she felt his fingers tighten in her hair, pulling slightly at her roots. “Xilä,” he growled, sending a rippling shiver down her spine.

“What?” she asked cunningly, “No teasing?”

Through their bond she felt his building frustration, his impatience, his need. Tail circling her wrist, he got her moving.

So bossy.

She stroked his length and found her pace, setting a rhythm that had her mate quickly blowing out puffs of air as he seemed to be trying to keep his composure.

Cute, she thought. With her free hand she stroked his tail- its tip still wrapped around her wrist, both hands moving in tandem.

“Xi-”

Reading his mind, her eyes found his own, locked and dangerous and just what he needed to get closer to his peak.

He was practically fucking her fist by now, and damn near exploded when her other hand left his tail to squeeze the base of his dick.

Xi licked him again, tongue running up the underside of him, along a vein, then circling its head. That was it, he couldn’t control himself any longer, he came with a blinding force- a strangled endearment, falling from his lips.

Hot seed spluttered from him, painting his stomach, Xi’s hand and her pouty lips, a drop even landed on her nose.

A feeling of victory flooded Xilä. She loved seeing her mate come undone, loved seeing him lose control. A side of him she was the only one to ever see.

She stroked him all the way through, till his shudders ceased and his body grew lax and so pliant she was able to pull him down, his massive frame covering her entirely.

Their lips met in the middle for a searing, all consuming kiss. Xi could taste herself on his lips, she was sure it was the same for him.

Breaking apart for a much needed breath of air, Neteyam nipped her bottom lip. “Sorry I woke you up.”

Xilä laughed. “No you’re not.”

He grinned too. “No I'm not.”

After they basked in the afterglow for another couple minutes, they cleaned themselves up, using water and washcloths to bathe each other, mouths unable to stop stealing kisses and hands unable to stop caressing.

Returning from checking on their son, he helped her strip their hammock and fasten a clean pelt before they both climbed in- him pulling her on top of his chest immediately.

“Sprout was still asleep?” she asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Mhmm, out like a light.” He kissed her forehead and she snuggled closer.

Somewhere between sleep and wake, Xi heard a hushed whisper.

“Mama?”

She felt a familiar weight sat on top of her and the gentle pat, pat of a little palm on her cheek.

“Mama. Mama! Mommy wake up, I have to tell you something really portent.”

“Mmm, I’m up, I’m up.” Xilä blinked awake to the view of her son’s sweet face. Exhaustion momentarily forgotten, she pulled him into her arms and across her chest, peppering kisses all over his cheeks. “Good morning, my love.”

Zyden struggled a bit under his mother’s smothering, trying to wiggle out. “Mama stop,” he giggled. “Guess what?” His voice was dramatically hushed despite it only being the two of them in the room.

“What?” she asked just as quietly to match his energy.

“Daddy say I can go fishing today!” Zyden shared, tail flicking in uncontrollable excitement behind him. As if reminding himself, he made a shhhh sound and pressed a finger to his lips before continuing softer. “And- and I get to use my new bow too. You know the one mama? The big boy one granpather Jxo make me? An- an L’eo and L’eya go too but no Js’avi, cause he-he too small still and then daddy show me how to catch the fish!”

Xilä gasped dramatically as if she didn’t already know all of this. “Oh my Eywa! That’s all so exciting, my love!”

“Yah! I- I catch you a really big fish, mama. Den you cook it.”

“I like that idea. What kind of fish should I make?” She smiled tiredly and smoothed her hand over his hair. He looked so much like his daddy.

“Zyden!” Neteyam walked into their room, hands on his hips with a disappointed expression. “I thought I told you we’d tell your mama later. She just fell asleep, son.”

Zyden jumped at being caught, his sweet excited face turning into one of guilt. Brow puckered into a tiny frown, he pointed at his mother, then said as if it made all the sense in the world, “But mama awake now daddy. So I tell her now. Later is too far.”

Both parents couldn’t hold their amusement.

This kid.

“Alright little man, come on.” Neteyam grabbed him up and hung him upside down. Tickling his tummy, he made their son break out in a fit of uncontrollable giggles.

“Da-ha-ddyy!”

When he set him on his feet, his father said seriously, “Go on and have your breakfast. All fishermen need to have a good meal before they set off for the day.”

“Ohhhkaaay! Bye mama!”

Neteyam blew out a breath and made his way over to Xi. “Sorry. I swear I only turned my back away for a second and then he disappeared.”

“It’s fine,” she assured, stretching her neck and puckering her lips, begging for a kiss as if he hadn’t kissed her only three hours ago when she’d gotten home.

Her husband obliged and when he pulled back he said, “We missed you last night.”

“Me too. I'll try not to make it a habit, but I was really needed for the night shift. I’m sorry it was so last minute too.”

“Stop,” he ordered, nipping her lip in rebuke.

“But it was date night… We made a promise to never miss a date night. I feel terrible. I promise I’ll make it up to you and-” She was about to apologize again so he silenced her with another kiss.

“Xilä. It’s your job, baby. You were needed. It's okay. And anyway, Sprout and I had an awesome guys night.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” His voice drew to a deep whisper, “Although if you keep insisting on making it up to me, I’d really really like to fuck you later. It’s been ages.”

Xi’s snicker was interrupted by a yawn. “You’re being dramatic. Oh that does remind me though, I need to get more Qla’ira root. I’m running out.”

Neteyam got quiet. He perched his head on her chest, golden eyes almost pleading. “Or you could… not?”

“Behave.” She batted him playfully and ran her fingers through his braids.

“I’m being serious. You know Zyden’s been asking for a sibling lately.”

“I know, but we agreed when he turned five, to start trying again, remember?”

“Technically, it’d be the same thing… If we get a head start from now, he’ll probably be five by the time-”

“Zyden will be four in a couple months,” she laughed, cupping his face.

They heard a crash, followed by a, “Daaaddy! I had a naccident!”

“Duty calls.” Neteyam lifted and hovered over her. “Get some sleep, alright? We’ll see you later. And we’re definitely not done talking about this.”

“Daaadeeeee!”

“Coming!”

Xi frowned, when he left. She didn’t know why she was even fighting this decision. She herself was ready for another child- and not just because of her mate’s pleas or their son’s little saddened face when he asked them how come he, “didn’t have a baby like L’eo and L’eya had Js’avi.”

Eywa had told her as much that she was ready as well. Her bond with the Great Mother had been growing stronger and stronger everyday.

So what was stopping her?

Later that night, during a family dinner, the kids excitedly ranted about everything that happened that day- all talking over each other and fighting over the attention of the adults.

It was a full family night. Neteyam and Xi’s home was not only filled with Jake and his family or Jxo and Sal. There was D’av, Yalnik and their three little ones. Also Yalnik’s twin and his mate along with their brood of five kids- who had also gone fishing.

Xilä saluted the men for having to take on so many of them. She wished she got to see them at it, since apparently they’d roped along Tasam and Ze’lu to get in some practice.

Speaking of, Tasam and Kiri had even joined their rowdy bunch tonight- newly mated after their courtship. Their story was incredibly sweet. They’d gone the traditional route and followed through the steps of the Omatikaya’s customs.

Their love was blinding and Xi was so happy for them. Although it had been years now, she still noticed the one or two times poor Spider would shoot them concealed glances. She was rooting for her friend to find his happiness too.

“An den I shot my bow like,” Sprout made a dramatic reenactment, “an VOOSH! My arrow went so far into the water, and- and-”

“And the same time I shot mine too!” L’eo chimed in. “And it hit a fish!”

“Oh my! You caught one, L’eo?” Sal asked, intrigued by their story.

“No,” the boy said sadly. “The fish swam away. L’eya got one though.”

The little girl blushed when the room broke out into cheers for her.

Xilä loved nights like these. Their family dinners were always a boisterous affair. She felt entirely whole- as if she belonged. A feeling she fought to find for years.

She watched her son seated in the cradle of his dad’s legs. They were both talking animatedly with Mo’at whose aged face was nothing but smiles.

Something within Xi suddenly clicked. That uncertain emotion that had been plaguing her now had an answer and a flare of guilt followed the revelation.

Stephan had taught her an expression once, “Waiting for the other shoe to drop.”

It made sense now why she herself kept putting off having another baby, because that’s what she’d been doing, wasn’t she?

Waiting for the other shoe to drop?

Waiting for things to go wrong, waiting to be told she no longer belonged. Waiting to see if she and her son would be casted out.

A weight lifted off her shoulders now that she knew what was holding her back. Stupid thoughts that would bear no fruits.

She had her whole life ahead of her. One filled with the joy and love of her and her mate, and of their children. Xi stared at her son, her son. Of course she’d wanted more of him, she Neteyam truly made ridiculously cute babies.

Before she shook off her thoughts and returned to the present, she gave herself a mini metal pep talk- the reassurance that always seemed to help the times her mind clouded in darkness.

She was here.

She was safe.

She was loved.

And she had found, her Safe Haven.

Once again, my deepest thanks goes out to all of you who have taken this journey with me, to all of you who have read, and liked and commented.

Special thanks to all who gave suggestions and ideas. I love interacting and hearing your thoughts!

I poured my heart and soul into this story and the unbelievable feedback I've gotten- there's no greater gift.

Although there is one more part I'd like to put out- "a slice of life" to specify, I am officially marking this story as Complete!

Here's to more stories in the future ahead. 💛

Tags:@jakesullyfatjuicypeen@granddearduck@riatesullironalite@strawberri-blonde@earthling55 @innercreationflower @duckworthbean @gyuventure @btsiguess-kpop@blkmystery@neteswife@luvteyams@isnt-itstrange@erenjaegerwifee@faatxma@ivysully@bakugouswaif@pinkpantheris @mntx666@ironcaptainnataliabarnes

#neteyam #neteyam x oc #neteyam avatar #neteyam fic #neteyam x reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam sully

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dwobbitfromtheshire · 6 months

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When Steve awakened the beast inside of Eddie, he felt it all over. He couldn't help but do the things he's done with women in this past and to the cheerleaders who passed him by. Yeah, okay, he has a thing for cheerleaders. They're passionate. He can respect that. Hmm, maybe that's why he hated jocks so much. . .he had been denying a part of himself that he didn't want to admit. Before Jason hunted him down like he was in season, Eddie could admit freely that there had been a little bit of an attraction there but that was before. It was long gone now, though.

In its place was Steve Harrington, who was not only insanely handsome but was also brave, kind, and just. He was a freaking prince with a side of bitchyness, and Eddie could just drown in him. He really couldn't help it when he started doing those things with Steve. He started bowing as he passed, smiling fondly after him with his hands behind his back, and he even opened doors for him. Of course, Steve thought it was because of his King Steve days.

"You know, I'm no longer like that, Eddie, so why are you still treating me like I am?" Steve snapped.

They were in the drama room preparing to set up for DnD, and Steve had volunteered to help. In reality, he just wanted to see Eddie. Meanwhile, Jeff had arrived early before anyone else to find Eddie bowing at Steve and opening the door for him.

"Relax, Steve," Jeff said as he stepped into the room completely. "He only does that shit to women he's attracted to."

Eddie's face said it all in that moment. Jeff looked at him with wide eyes.

"I was going to tell you," Eddie said quickly.

"You're -," Jeff said, and his eyes flickered to Steve’s.

"What?" Steve asked.

"Bisexual," Eddie said.

"Oh. Oh!" Steve exclaimed in realization. "So, all the stuff you've been doing is because - "

"I'm attracted to you. I like you, Steve," Eddie said softly.

"So, all of the things. . . The bowing, the opening doors, the giving me rocks. . .they were all because you like me?" Steve asked.

"I've also been the one leaving flowers on your car. I've been courting you," Eddie said, his hands behind his back as he stepped closer to him.

"I've never been courted before," Steve said bashfully as he bit his lip, and Steve stepped closer to Eddie. "You can keep doing it if you want."

"Even if it makes you feel like a king?" Eddie asked.

"Well, I think I prefer the term fallen king, and you're kind of like a king yourself. . . You're a very handsome one, too. We are both two kings coming together to make one glorious kingdom," Steve said.

"Fuck," Eddie muttered.

"Okay, I think you guys forgot that I'm still here," Jeff said and watched as their lips crashed together. "Yeah, I'm going to go now before you guys start making out against me."

Jeff left and slammed the door behind him. He smiled, happy for his friend. Of course, that's when everyone else decided to show up. It suddenly sounded like someone was being pushed up against the door, and Jeff quickly blocked it before it could open.

"Are Eddie and Steve in there?" Dustin said and frowned. "What are those sounds? Oh, my God! . . . Are they fighting? I thought they were friends!"

"Uh, yeah, they're fighting, but they're working it out. In the meantime, Hellfire is canceled tonight," Jeff said.

"But - " Dustin began to protest.

"Canceled!" Jeff yelled. "Now, go!"

Everyone gave him weird looks but started to shuffle away. Just then, Steve let out a breathy moan that couldn't be mistaken for anything else.

"What the hell was that?" Dustin asked.

"Uh . . . I think Eddie just pulled Steve’s hair," Jeff replied quickly.

"Oh. Yeah, Steve hates that. Eddie!" Dustin called out. "You're not fighting very fair!"

It worked on some of them, but not on Gareth and Frank. Lucas and Will also looked a little suspicious.

"Would you fucking go already?!" Jeff snapped.

Jeff finally breathed a sigh of relief when they all left and he could push himself off of the door. He told them to lock the door and finally made the escape for himself. He hoped he never got caught in that situation again.

#stranger things #stranger things s4 #eddie munson #joseph quinn #eddie stranger things #steve harrington #eddie munson lives #steddie #steve x eddie #steve harrington x eddie munson #steddie fanfiction #steddie ficlet #bisexual eddie munson #bisexual steve harrington #stranger things jeff #poor jeff

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the-flowerwolf · 1 year

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Hogwarts legacy headcanons

While normal people go and socialize I wake up and think about ✨them✨

So there's some headcanons about my favourite Legacy Team (as I call them) for ya folks while I'm writing a really big fic about them. Careful, some of them are sad. And don't mind my poor grammar thanks.

Btw, collages are mine, feel free to use them💙

🐍Sebastian Sallow🐍

First off all, if you turn him in, I don't trust you

Literally a typical Slytherin

A nerd. Just a nerd.

Quidditch? Babe, the only sport for him is dueling

Felt absolutely helpless when his parents died. And that's why he's so protective. He just can't let anyone else die on his watch

Really is a small version of his father and proud of it

Believes that the end justifies the means

Hopeless flirt BUT a gentleman. Wouldn't do anything you don't like

And also most probably believes in true love

A proud bisexual

Everyone think that "he fucks everything that moves" but he's a virgin who "saves himself for the one and only"

As some fan said, he was probably born on 18th September. And it's a canon now.

A great friend but a terrible secret keeper, so for Merlin's sake, don't tell him ANYTHING

Knows how to braid hair into the most complex ways

Pro feminist! Treats women right and knows all important stuff thanks to his sis

🔥Natty Onai🔥

I'm sorry but she's so underrated and for what??

I believe she really respect traditions she were tought as a child

Her favourite holiday must be her birthday. All because it was the only day of the year when her parents forgot about all the dangers and sorrows and they just got together, spending the best time

Most probably will return to the homeland after Hogwarts

Is the only member of the team who play quidditch

(as a keeper ofc)

She's a lesbian idk dudes

A very honest girl who were raised to be a good person

So she just expects the same from others

A very competitive. But not like Imelda. Natty respects fair competition and knows how to honorably recognize a match

Although this does not mean that she will not destroy you to win

Is always cold poor thing

Religious bc I feel like it

Has mommy issues and don't tell me I'm wrong

Will definitely become the best auror one day

🌼Poppy Sweeting🌼

Her favourite holiday is Christmas lemme tell you that

Trust issues

She's trying her best to be gentle with every living being because she saw too much violence already

And that's why she thinks animals are better than people (agree)

She's definitely an INFP and I won't change my mind

Looks like a cinnamon roll but will kill you

A cliché but I feel like she's an excellent cook

Although she would LOVE to find someone to understand her (like us) she's totally okay with being on her own

Is into mind games like chess

But will go to see a quidditch game just to support Natty (and mc if they play)

Is always up to an adventure

Bullies? Girl grew up among killers, you really think she would care about some bullies?

I feel like she has the strongest personality in here. Doesn't matter what happens she will always stand straight while helping others

Is a cat person

Can't cry bc she was not allowed as a child

💚Ominis Gaunt💚

Just an innocent little boy let's be honest

He may look like he can kill you but he's just a cinnamon roll

Jokes about his blindness as a defence mechanism

Had a crush on both Sallow siblings at some point and I can't blame him

Saw a theory on tiktok that his patronus would be albino snake. CANON

Just wants to have a simple quiet life without any drama

Protective of his friends BUT is more protective of his boundaries

Don't mind his blindness he knows EXACTLY how to be a fashion icon

Another cliché: Omi can play piano

And it's the only thing his parents tought him that he loves. Playing helps him to calm down

Is very private, but as soon as he starts to trust you, he will immediately blurt out his life story, dreams, fears etc

Though he can't see an actual game, Omi likes to go on a quidditch game, because of the happy energy around him

Is sick most of the time for some reason. Cold, stomach ache or anything really

Also a nerd. But unlike Sebastian he's a fiction lover. Helps him to escape reality, especially in his family's house

Clingy with everyone he loves bc they make him feel safe

#hogwarts legacy #ominis gaunt #sebastian sallow #poppy sweeting #natty onai #headcanon

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hyperfixatedonthisnow · 10 months

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Siren's call

*not my GIF I know, I know, I suck at titles, but I’ve come to accept this about myself and therefore so must you! Summary: A Siren and a privateer fall in love, but how will he react when he finally learns what she is? Requested by: Anonymous - Sturmhond/Nikolai finds out his girlfriend is a siren. How will that go? - Dearest anon, I am *so* sorry that this took me so long to put out. I fell down a bit of a rabbit hole researching Sirens and found your request so interesting that I honestly could have written much more. I started out with Sturmhond, then switched to Nikolai after reader learns his real name, and I went with Sirens as shape-shifting mermaids, rather than the Greek version of bird like creatures, mostly because it was easier to write in but also because birds freak me out a bit tbh, I’m hoping you don’t mind. Also there’s smut at the end, but if you don’t like that then feel free to stop reading when the kissing starts 😉 I realized way too late that I probably should have asked you for more details 🤦‍♀️ So I can only hope that this is something close to what you wanted! Word count: 7.5K ish - because much like our favorite prince/privateer, I prefer to use several words when one will do 😅

Warnings: NSFW - 18+ only. Mild peril, mild angst, a touch of fluff, minor OC’s who exist only to further the (minimal) plot, a very brief mention of non-con (but not with Nikolai), smut, fem!reader, P in V sex, semi-rough sex, marking, unprotected sex (not recommended in real life!)

You had been following the ship closely for weeks, watching the crew, learning their habits, and charting their course to figure out the best time to take them. Amalia preferred to wait until they were close to land, though it was easier and safer to simply lure them into open water out at sea. She liked the challenge, but more than that, she liked to be the last thing the men saw before they died. It made her feel powerful- to know how much they wanted her and could never have her.

If it was up to you, you would wait until nightfall and sing from a distance, letting your enchanting lullaby guide the men from their beds straight into a watery grave. You didn’t take pleasure in their deaths, even if you knew it was necessary. Unnatural your sisters teased, for a Siren to have such a soft heart. Amalia never joined in with the teasing, though you knew she didn’t really understand you either. Still, she indulged you by allowing you to act as scout, and that meant you could mostly narrow down the targets to pirates and slavers, offering the fishermen and other sailors some small semblance of protection.

Whenever possible, you would scout several ships at a time, so that you could choose the one you wanted and hopefully sway Amalia towards it when you returned to discuss your findings. Unfortunately, only one ship had passed through your waters in almost a month, and although you felt it was worth saving, there was no second option.

When you met with Amalia, you thought carefully about what you had found before you spoke, deciding on the major details you should share with her and filtering out your own more personal observations.

At first glance, it had seemed like a Pirate ship, but further investigation proved that it was not. The crew was an eclectic mix of men, women, and Grisha, of various ages and races. The captain - who went by the name Sturmhond and insisted he was not a pirate, but a privateer - was young, barely out of boyhood, and yet it was clear that he commanded their respect.

He ran a tight ship, but he always treated his crew warmly and he worked alongside them often, doing his fair share of the hard work. He was rarely angry and never cruel, as far as you could tell. At night the crew would gather on the deck to drink and play cards, and he usually joined them. He didn’t seem to think himself above their company as some captains would. You watched him dance and laugh along with the others, and when he lost at cards, he always took it in good humour.

In the conversations you had overheard, the captain’s responses were measured and kind, free from judgment or scorn. Although they carried an impressive arsenal of weapons, you had witnessed no violence from him, nor any of his crew. No prisoners taken, no poor souls forced to walk the plank, no slaves bound in the hull of his ship.

He spent most of his hours working on some flying contraption and after several failed tests, you saw his joy when it actually worked. He was a good man, you had concluded. Intelligent and funny, and handsome, too. You tried to imagine Amalia’s face if you admitted that last bit out loud - she would probably think you had taken leave of your senses completely.

You bit your lip, wondering how you could persuade her to spare them, to spare him.

“Actually, I was thinking… maybe we should… let this one go,” you suggested tentatively. Might as well just be direct.

Amalia stared at you as though you had grown an extra head. “Let them go?” She said after a moment, her nose scrunching in disgust. “You think these men should live?”

“They aren’t just men,” you rushed, trying to justify yourself. “There are women on the crew, and Grisha too.”

“And?” Amalia prompted.

“And, they don’t deserve to be punished for the sins of men,” you argued, “they’re innocent.”

Amalia rolled her eyes, “They’ve chosen to take up with a pirate, have they not?”

“Privateer,” you corrected, but the moment the word was out you wished you could call it back.

Amalia narrowed her eyes suspiciously at you. “Privateer?” She echoed.

“Yes?” You squeaked, and it sounded more like a question than an answer. You cleared your throat. “Yes. He’s not a pirate, he’s a privateer, and he’s a good man, Amalia. I’ve seen it.”

Amalia laughed, “There is no such thing as a good man,” she muttered, “They are all the same. Weak-minded, arrogant, selfish creatures. They live only for violence and destruction.”

“Not him,” you said firmly. “He’s not like the others.”

“He’s exactly like the others,” she snapped, “If you gave him the chance, he would kill you without a second thought.”

“No,” you argued, “You’re wrong about him. He’s smart and kind, and good. I swear it.”

She studied you for a long moment and you tried not to fidget under her disapproving gaze. Your cheeks felt hot, and you knew you were probably blushing.

“Oh, don’t tell me you’ve gone and fallen in love with him!” She exclaimed finally.

You said nothing, but your silence was answer enough. You looked away, pressing your lips together. It was out there now, no point in trying to deny it.

“Foolish girl,” Amalia said, shaking her head. “There is no future for you with him, surely you must see that?”

“Of course I do,” you whispered, blinking away the tears that threatened to spill over. “But I won’t watch him die Amalia. Not this one. I can’t.”

Amalia sighed, and then she surprised you by pulling you in to a tight hug.

“Please,” you begged, voice breaking.

“There’s a storm coming,” she murmured into your hair, “I suppose we could wait it out.”

“We could?” You questioned hopefully.

“If they can survive it, on their own, then we will leave them be. That’s the best I can do.”

Relief flooded through you, and you hugged Amalia tighter. “Thank you!” You cried.

She pulled back to look at you, her expression troubled. “I know you don’t want to believe it, but men are dangerous. All men. Even your privateer,” she said seriously, hands gripping your shoulders, “So if I do this, if I let him live, it is on the condition that you agree to stay away from him. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” you answered without hesitation. You would do anything to protect him.

“You must never see him again. Not ever. Promise me,” she insisted.

“I promise,” you said, the words bitter on your tongue.

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The sea was rough, waves cresting 30ft high only to crash back down, as loud as thunder. You watched as the ship rose and fell along with them. You weren’t supposed to be here, had promised to stay away, but you couldn’t help yourself. You had to know that he would be ok. Amalia had agreed to wait until the storm had passed, but if the ship ran aground her small act of mercy wouldn’t matter.

You moved closer, letting the current sweep you towards the ship. It had to be taking on water, but so far, the crew seemed to be holding on. Once you were close enough, you watched them carefully. The Grisha who usually guided their sails spread his arms wide, fighting a losing battle against the ferocious winds. He was just a boy, and not nearly powerful enough to tame such a storm alone. A woman jumped from the lookout, rolling across the deck, and landing gracefully on her feet beside a tall man with similar features. They moved to secure the main sail, working in perfect tandem. A man in a teal coat ran from post to post, tightening the rigging and testing the knots before making his way to the helm to take the wheel. Sturmhond. His hair was plastered to his face, his clothes soaking wet. He took the wheel with both hands, pulling hard to the left, and though his expression was determined, you could sense his growing desperation.

The ship slowly began to turn, forcing the bow away from the storm. Trying to outrun it. For a moment it looked as though his plan might actually work, but then suddenly the ship listed dangerously starboard. Sturmhond struggled to right it, but it was too late. A wave crashed over the now tilted masts, snapping them clean away with a force that rolled the entire ship on to its side. It bobbed precariously for half a second, sailors clinging to the railings, before another wave hit, cracking the hull. If they weren’t taking on water before, they certainly were now. Finally, a voice called out, “ABANDON SHIP!” and the crew began leaping into the sea, frantically trying to escape the wreckage before it capsized completely.

Your eyes scanned the chaos, looking for Sturmhond. You found him clambering up one side of the railing, the ship already beginning to sink beneath his feet. He was looking around, searching for something. Checking all his crew had managed to get out. And then you saw it, at the same time he did - the Grisha crewman, hanging upside down, tangled in the remains of the rigging. The boy struggled, desperately trying to free himself, but he was stuck. Jump, you urged the privateer silently, leave him, but you already knew he wouldn’t. He turned away from the water and began climbing towards his crew mate instead. Stupid. He would never make it in time. The ship was sinking rapidly. In just a few precious seconds it would go under, and when it did, anyone still on it would be pulled under along with it.

You wanted to help him, but you knew you shouldn’t. You thought of your promise to Amalia. She would be furious if she found out you were here, even more so if you interfered. You hesitated, still watching from a safe distance as Sturmhond reached the Grisha with barely a moment to spare. He tugged a knife from his boot and cut the boy free, allowing him to drop safely into the water beneath them. The boy didn’t wait for his captain, he immediately began swimming away from the wreckage. But before Sturmhond could follow, another huge wave swept over the ship, dragging it - and him - underwater, just as you had predicted. He was going to drown.

You made a split-second decision, diving under the water to search for him. The weight of the sinking ship acted like a vacuum, sucking everything downward to the sea floor. You followed it down, but you couldn’t see him anywhere. Panic clawed at your chest. Had he made it to the surface by himself? You turned, ready to go back up, when a flash of teal and gold below you caught your eye. There. You dove back down, looping your arms under his and hauling him against you. He was limp, a heavy weight in your arms. You held him tight, swimming away from the wreckage and towards the surface as fast as you could.

When you reached the surface, you pulled him above the water line, working hard to keep you both afloat. His head lolled back on your shoulder and his eyes were closed. You weren’t sure if he was breathing, and you felt panic building again. You tried to ignore it as you headed for the shore, where you shifted quickly into human form. Once you had dragged him onto the wet sand, you laid him on his back and pressed your ear to his chest. There was no sound, no movement that suggested breathing. Maybe he swallowed too much water?

You turned his head to the side and then placed your hands over his stomach and pushed upwards, hard. Was that the right thing to do? You weren’t sure, but you thought you had seen it done before, once… maybe. Nothing happened. You tried again, and again… and again. Were you doing it wrong … or were you just too late? But then, suddenly, he was coughing up a lungful of water and gasping for breath as he came round. After a few moments he blinked his eyes open, finding you still leaning over him.

“Am I dead?” He mumbled.

“No,” you assured him. Thank the sea goddess! Overcome with emotion, you flung yourself at him, sobbing in relief. His arms closed around you hesitantly, though he surely thought you were insane - a perfect stranger, crying over him and hugging him without invitation.

The storm was over and the sea eerily still by the time the rest of his crew managed to make it to shore. You had calmed yourself, and Sturmhond was sitting up, chatting amiably with you, as if he hadn’t almost died mere minutes earlier. You learned that he had another ship, the Volkvolny, and he cheerfully informed you that really, the storm had done him a favour, because he hadn’t liked the other one all that much anyway. It was nothing short of a miracle that everyone had survived the wreckage with only minimal injuries, and that put them all in a remarkably good mood considering the circumstances. Sturmhond introduced you to the crew, and casually insisted you join them at the local tavern, to dry off and have a strong drink, or two.

As you got to your feet, you caught sight of Amalia at the far side of the shore. Too far away to really make out her features, but you could imagine the look of disappointment on her face. You had broken the promise you made her, and worse than that, here you were walking and talking with humans as though you were old friends. To top it all off, you had committed a cardinal sin amongst Sirens - you had saved a man’s life. You had chosen a man over your sisters, and no matter how much Amalia loved you, this was the one thing she could not forgive.

At the tavern, you quickly discovered that Sturmhond and his crew were a lively, friendly bunch. You were treated as the guest of honour since you had saved the captain’s life, and they welcomed you with open arms. So, when they planned to move to the Volkvolny, and asked if you wanted to come along, you agreed to go with them.

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

It was far easier than you would have expected for you to adjust to your new life aboard the Volkvolny. You found that you had watched enough Sailors over the years to pick up some of the basics and luckily you hit it off with Tamar, who quickly took you under her wing, teaching you the more advanced skills. You listened to endless hours of poetry readings from Tolya, and in exchange he offered to teach you how to fight. In fact, most of the crew accepted you readily. In truth, a lot of the men had just been so enthralled by your ethereal beauty that they were half in love with you at first sight, and the fact that you had saved their captain’s life had been enough to endear you to the rest.

All except for one woman, a young Grisha heartrender named Laila who seemed set on hating you no matter how hard you tried to befriend her. Tamar said it was jealousy - Laila wanted to be the captains favourite but he had never shown any interest in her, and now with you around, he likely never would. You tried not to let it bother you, but you were worried that she might sense something was different about you and early one morning she confirmed your fears when she cornered you in the galley, pushing you up against the wall.

“I’m on to you,” she hissed, “you’re hiding something and I’m going to figure out what it is.”

You played it cool, pretending you had no idea what she meant, and though you briefly considered throwing her overboard, you ultimately decided it was too risky. Instead, you did your best to avoid her at all times, at least as much as you could avoid someone living in such close proximity, and you became an expert at hiding in plain sight.

The bond you had formed with Sturmhond as a result of saving his life grew into a fully-fledged friendship, and then, into something sweeter. Over time, you found yourself sharing his bed as well as his company, and once he trusted you enough to reveal his true identity - Nikolai Lantsov, royal spare to the Ravkan throne - you were moved into the captain’s quarters permanently.

You missed Amalia and being on the sea everyday but never in it, was its own special kind of torture, but you had made your choice and you would do it all over again in a heartbeat. You would choose him, always, whatever the cost. So, you vowed never to use your power again, if it only meant you could keep this new life, if it meant you could keep him. But of course, nothing was ever that simple.

You had been on the Volkvolny for almost a year when it finally happened…

The crew were gathered in a loose circle on the lower deck, chatting and sharing several bottles of liquor, relaxing after a long day. You followed Nikolai down the steps to join them and when he took the only empty seat, you didn’t hesitate to drop yourself into his lap. A chorus of wolf whistles and hooting erupted from the crew around you.

“Perverts,” you muttered, giving them the middle finger and they all laughed.

Nikolai looped his arm around your waist, pulling you closer. You leaned against him, fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, content to just be close to him while the crew drank and talked around you. You joined the conversation only when spoken to directly and luckily no one noticed your contemplative mood, as they all got steadily drunker and rowdier as the night went on. At some point, someone started singing a sea shanty and one by one the rest of the crew joined in, happy and loud, and painfully off-key. You smiled and clapped along, but otherwise stayed quiet. Laila was watching you carefully from across the circle.

“You’re not singing,” she said suddenly, and you were sure you weren’t imagining the accusation in her tone.

“Oh, no one wants to hear my singing,” you laughed nervously, waving her off, “honestly I’m terrible.”

She narrowed her eyes at you. “You can’t be that bad. Come on, just sing a few lines,” she pushed.

You shifted uncomfortably on Nikolai’s lap. His hand tightened on your waist, and you knew he was listening. You struggled to think of another excuse. “I- umm…”

“Leave her alone,” Tamar interjected, and you flashed her a grateful smile for coming to your rescue. “She doesn’t have to sing if she doesn’t want to.”

“But she never wants to sing,” Laila muttered petulantly, “don’t you think that’s odd?”

“What’s odd is you insisting she does,” Nikolai said, an unmistakable edge to his voice. “Let it go Laila.”

Laila flushed at the reprimand. She reluctantly fell silent again, but she was glaring at the drink in her hands, her expression murderous. Silence stretched awkwardly for a few seconds, until Tolya thankfully broke it by producing a deck of cards and starting a game.

You declined to play, and as the cards were dealt you turned your attention away. Through the gaps in the railings, you could see the miles of deep blue sea that stretched all the way to the horizon, and you felt a familiar pull, calling you home. You closed your eyes as you inhaled deeply, letting the salty air fill your lungs. Home. You would never be truly at home here, on this ship, and that thought filled you with sadness. You thought of Amalia, and you wondered if she missed you, the way that you missed her.

You were pulled from your reverie by Nikolai shifting beneath you. He leaned over you to throw his cards down on the table, declaring he was bowing out of the game and then he sat back, pulling you further into his lap.

“Everything alright, my love?” He asked quietly, his lips brushing your ear. You pushed away your melancholy, turning your head so you could look at him.

“Yes,” you murmured, and you meant it. You wanted to be here, with him, no matter how much you might miss home.

“Thinking about how absurdly handsome I am?” He waggled his eyebrows at you, and you laughed.

“No, but I was thinking about you,” you admitted, “about how I ended up here.”

“Ah, so you’re thinking about the time you saved my life then. No wonder you looked so serious.”

“Which time?” You mused, teasing him, “There are so many, I think I’ve lost count.”

Nikolai gasped, all faux outrage. “Once.” He insisted, “It was one time.”

“If you say so,” you smiled indulgently as he leaned in to kiss you, slow and deep, his hand cupping your jaw. The whistling and jeering immediately started up again. You pulled away, rolling your eyes at the crew’s antics.

Nikolai sighed. “For Saints sake,” he grumbled, but he sounded more fond than angry.

When you looked up, Laila was glaring at you. She fixed a smile on her face as you met her gaze, but it didn’t reach her eyes.

“I’ve been thinking,” She said loudly, gaining everyone’s attention, “what exactly happened, the night you joined us? We’ve never heard your side of the story.”

Had she figured it out? You tried to keep your expression as neutral as possible, but you had stared at her for a beat too long, and now everyone was looking at you, waiting for your answer.

“There’s really not much to tell,” you said carefully.

“Don’t be so modest,” Laila said, her smile sharp, “you saved the Captain’s life after all, and I want to hear every detail.”

Your heart pounded. You should have pushed her overboard when you had the chance. As you tried to come up with a plausible story, the ship was suddenly engulfed in a thick fog.

After that, everything happened so quickly that you barely understood it. One moment you were sailing in open water, the night clear and still, and the next, you were dodging gunfire in near blindness, as men appeared from nowhere and swarmed the ship. The crew fought valiantly, but you were outnumbered and outmatched by a pair of the most powerful Grisha you had ever encountered. You had heard rumours about the drug jurda parem, and now it seemed you were seeing it’s effects first hand. All around you was chaos and you couldn’t keep track of anything. Before long, most of your crew were injured and eventually, all of them captured.

The fog dissipated as quickly as it had appeared, and then there was Nikolai - bleeding, gagged and bound - forced to his knees on the deck of his own ship.

A man grabbed you from behind, holding you against his body with an arm around your waist and a hand twisting painfully in your hair. Nikolai tried to call out as he caught sight of you and your captors laughed.

“Looks like we’ve found the captain’s whore,” one of the men chuckled.

The one holding you ran his hand up from your waist to roughly grab at your breast. You held perfectly still, you weren’t going to give these animals the satisfaction of a reaction, but Nikolai struggled against his bonds, and the man standing over him backhanded him hard across the face. He swayed on his knees, the force of the blow almost knocking him over, and blood trickled from the fresh wound at his temple. The men began talking amongst themselves, loudly detailing all the disgusting things they would enjoy doing to you later.

“Don’t worry,” Nikolai’s captor taunted him, “we’ll let you watch.”

Nikolai struggled again, cold rage clear in his eyes as the men laughed. For a brief moment, he managed to get to his feet, but that only gave his captor an excuse to hit him again, and again, until he slumped to the floor, and when you screamed in protest, the men laughed harder, enjoying your misery.

These men were going to die today, you decided, and you would not show them the mercy of a quick death.

You closed your eyes, took a deep breath, and started to sing. At first the men only looked at each other in confusion, but as your melody continued, they gradually fell under your spell, their eyes glazing over. You tried your best to focus only on them, but it wasn’t an exact science, so your crew also felt the effects. Conveniently, they were all bound and so had little chance of hurting themselves.

You concentrated on the Grisha first since they were the biggest threat, followed by the rest of the men. At your instruction, they turned as one, and forming an orderly line, walked to the side of the ship before binding their own hands and feet together. Then they clambered up onto the railing, and one by one, threw themselves into the water, like lemmings leaping off a cliff. You saved the man who had smacked Nikolai for last, and before he jumped, had him stab himself with his own blade several times, just for good measure.

Once the last man entered the water, you stood at the railing, feeling a perverse sense of satisfaction as you watched them trying, and failing, to fight against their bonds in an effort to return to you. You watched each one slowly begin to sink beneath the water, and only once you were sure there would be no chance that any of them might survive, did you stop singing and move away. When it was done, you set about releasing your crew from their bindings and tending to their wounds as best you could. They were groggy from the after-effects of your song, and it took some hours for everyone to fully come around. No one could really remember what had happened, and you pretended not to know either. You could only cross your fingers and hope that no one realized the truth of what you had done.

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

Nikolai was quiet in the aftermath, and though he put up a good front for the rest of the crew, you could tell he was shaken by what had happened. Once everyone was attended to, he announced he was going to his office and he took your hand, pulling you along with him. You followed him to the captain’s quarters in silence.

He let you enter first and you heard the soft click of the lock as he closed the door behind him. You perched yourself on the edge of his desk as you waited for him, but when he turned, he leaned back against the door instead of coming closer. His face was set, his eyes hard, and you knew that he had finally figured out your secret. Honestly, you were surprised it had taken him this long, you had always known it was only a matter of time. You watched him carefully, but you said nothing, waiting for him to speak first.

“You’re a Siren,” he said finally.

You nodded your head in answer, even though he hadn’t phrased it as a question. He stared at you for a long moment, and you could almost hear the cogs turning in his mind, mulling over the many questions he must have. Eventually he seemed to settle on one.

“How many innocent men have you killed?” He asked.

“Innocent?” You huffed, “None.”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “But you have lured men to their deaths, haven’t you?”

“I have.” You conceded. He knew what you were now, there was no reason to lie.

“So? How many?” He pressed. “You must have some idea.” He crossed his arms over his chest, closing himself off to you.

“I didn’t exactly keep a tally,” you muttered.

“Tell me,” He demanded, “Dozens? Hundreds? Thousands?”

“I don’t know,” you admitted, suddenly unable to meet his gaze, “I can’t remember them all.”

“Those men had lives and families,” he said, outraged, “they were someone’s father, brother, son, and you don’t even remember them?!”

You felt your own temper beginning to rise and you struggled to keep your voice even. “They were Slavers. Murderers and Pirates. They were the worst kind of men.”

“You don’t know that!” He argued, “What right did you have to judge them?”

“I’m a Siren,” you reminded him, “It’s what I was born to do. I followed them first, watched them, saw what kind of men they were with my own eyes. I only ever took the bad ones.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “So now you expect me to believe Sirens follow some kind of moral code?”

“Not all Sirens, but I expect you to believe that I do.”

“How am I to believe anything you say” he scoffed, “You’ve been lying to me since the day we met.”

“I didn’t lie to you, not really. Everything I told you about myself was true. I just omitted one small detail.”

He laughed, but there was no humour in it. “I think we have a vastly different understanding of the word small,” he muttered, “and a lie by omission is still a lie.”

He wasn’t wrong, but … “You lied to me too, Sturmhond.”

He straightened, no longer leaning against the door, but still kept the distance between you. “That’s hardly the same!” He protested.

“Isn’t it?”

“Not at all,” he huffed, “besides, I told you the truth once I thought I could trust you. Although clearly, I was mistaken.”

“You can trust me,” you insisted. “In case you’ve forgotten, I saved your life - twice. You’re welcome, by the way!”

He didn’t look convinced. “That first night, when you rescued me, were you watching the ship? Just waiting for an opportunity to kill us all?”

“No! I mean, yes - I watched you for a while, but I was never going to lure you. I convinced my sister to let you go,” you rushed, desperately trying to explain, “I promised to stay away from you and in return Amalia agreed that they wouldn’t go after you, if you survived the storm on your own.”

“But we didn’t,” he said, brow furrowed in confusion. “The ship sank and I almost drowned.”

“I remember. I was there when the storm hit. I saw you save the boy who was trapped in the rigging, and when you went under, I came after you.”

“I don’t understand. If you promised to stay away from me then why were you there?” He asked, frown deepening.

“I just needed to be know you would be alright,” you admitted softly, “I wasn’t supposed to help you.”

“I don’t suppose many Sirens would go out of their way to save a man from drowning,” he said, mouth curving into a wry smile.

“No. It goes against their nature. But you decided to act the hero and almost got yourself killed in the process,” you muttered angrily, “so I had to choose, and I chose you, even though I knew my sisters would never forgive me.”

“So, you really did save my life? That was real?”

“Yes. Everything between us has been real for me, I swear it,” you said earnestly, “I gave up everything for you.”

He moved towards you then, coming to stand over you where you were still sitting on the edge of his desk, and you widened your thighs to allow him in between them. He was so close that you had to tilt your head back to look at him. You closed your hands in to fists, fighting the urge to reach for him.

“And tonight?” He asked, “Did you kill those men?”

You could have lied, or pretended not to remember what happened, but you didn’t want there to be anymore secrets between you. “I did,” you confessed, meeting his eyes. You weren’t ashamed of what you had done. “and I would do it again if I had to. They would have killed you.”

“You’re not sorry,” he said, and you wondered if he wanted you to be.You thought about it for a moment, but when you closed your eyes, you could still see him on his knees. No. You weren’t sorry at all.

“They got what they deserved,” you hissed, “and the world is a better place without them in it.”

He gave a short, sharp nod of his head in agreement, and you smiled. Whatever he thought of you, he understood this at least.

“Tell me why,” he said, lifting a hand to brush your hair back from your face. “Why did you save me?”

“Because I love you,” you answered honestly, leaning into his touch when his hand lingered. “I loved you then and I love you now, even if you don’t feel the same.”

He dropped his hand, taking a single step back and you had to stop yourself from swaying forward, chasing the physical connection.

“How do I know that my feelings for you are truly my own? That you’re not influencing me somehow?”

“In what way?”

“I don’t know,” he said, “by using your Siren powers to manipulate me? To seduce me? How do I know you’re not just making me think I’m in love with you.”

“Are you?” You asked hopefully, “In love with me?”

He looked away. “Maybe,” he hedged.

“Well, Siren power doesn’t work that way. My song inspires lust-addled obsession, blind desire, unwavering obedience - not love.”

He stared at you for what felt like an eternity, considering your answer. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth as he studied you, and suddenly all you could think about was how much you wanted to kiss him.

“Okay.” He said finally. He stepped closer, into your personal space again, but frustratingly kept his hands to himself.

“Okay?”

“Yes. I believe you,” he said, “but you still should have told me. I had the right to know that the woman I’m sleeping with, the woman I fell in love with is a-“

“A monster?” You finished for him. You knew what men thought of creatures like you.

He glared at you. “Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“That’s not what you were going to say?” You asked, feigning innocence.

“No.” He said firmly.

“Mmm,” you hummed skeptically. “So you’re not afraid of me?”

He blinked at you, as though the thought hadn’t even crossed his mind. “Should I be?”

“Well, a little bit couldn’t hurt,” you teased.

He shook his head exasperatedly, but he was smiling now, that perfect crooked smile that never failed to make your heart skip a beat. He put his hands around your waist, finally, pulling you into him and you fisted your hands in his shirt to keep him there. He lowered his head at the same time that you tilted yours up, and your lips ghosted over each other, close enough to share a breath but not quite touching.

“I have one last question,” he said, and you bit back a sigh. For saints sake, what else could he possibly want to know?

“Have you ever used your power to seduce me?”

You squinted at him, trying to decide if he was saying you might need to use your power to seduce him. You felt a flush of annoyance at the suggestion. “No,” you said carefully, “should I?”

He shook his head, no. “I already want you,” he admitted.

“Good,” you smiled, “because I want you too. All the time.”

The corner of his mouth tipped up into a pleased little smirk. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm,” you hummed, leaning into him, and this time he kissed you for real, his lips soft but insistent against your own, not pulling away until you were both breathless.

“I’m still angry with you,” he said, when he finally succumbed to the need for air, “for lying to me.”

“I’m sorry,” you murmured, and you meant it.

“I know,” he said and then he dipped his head to kiss you again.

He brought his hand up to cup your face, the other still gripping your waist as you opened your mouth to him. He took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, tangling his tongue with your own and every time you pulled back, he only allowed you to draw a single, ragged breath before he claimed your lips again.

One of his hands ran up your side from your waist, until his thumb grazed the swell of your breast over the thin cotton of your shirt, and you shivered, leaning into his touch. You could feel his growing arousal against your thigh, and you were suddenly overwhelmed by the need to feel his bare skin against your own. You tugged his shirt free from his breeches, pulling it up and off over his head before he could protest.

He immediately slanted his mouth over yours again, as if he couldn’t bear to be parted from you for more than a few seconds, and you let your hands roam over his broad shoulders and chest, before you worked on removing your own shirt. Your fingers slipped over the small buttons, and you growled in frustration, breaking away from his kiss so that you could see what you were doing. He made a sound of irritation, ducking his head to nip lightly at the curve of your neck and you gasped, your shirt momentarily forgotten as you grabbed a fistful of his hair instead. He groaned low in his throat when you pulled him closer rather than pushing him away, and he nipped at you again, teeth grazing your pulse point, this time hard enough to leave a mark. You moaned as his tongue flicked out to sooth the sting and you felt his lips turn up into a self-satisfied smirk against your skin.

When you finally succeeded in unbuttoning your shirt, you reached around your back to unhook your bra and removed that along with it, and then you dropped your hands to the laces of his breeches before he could distract you again. He finally realized your goal then, and began to help, rather than hinder you, pushing his breeches and underwear down to his ankles so that he could kick them away. You stood so that you could do the same and once you were both naked, he lifted you back up, so you were sitting on the edge of his desk again.

You leaned back on your hands, and he dipped his head, capturing one pebbled nipple with his tongue. You arched your back, pushing your breast further into his mouth as his fingers skated along your inner thigh towards your centre. He gave a small grunt of satisfaction when he found you slick and ready for him and you threaded your fingers through his hair, tugging him upwards until he released your nipple with a soft pop.

He slipped two fingers inside you easily, and when you clenched around him, he let out a distinctly strangled sound. You met his gaze as you sat up, so you could hook your legs around his thighs, locking your ankles behind his ass to keep him there, and you enjoyed the way his eyes fluttered closed and his breath hitched as his cock settled between your thighs, so close to where you wanted him. You tilted your hips up, and he took the hint, guiding himself into place and filling you completely with one quick, hard thrust that had you crying out.

You clutched at him desperately, barely able to do anything but hold on as he set a punishing pace, driving his hips forward fast and hard, only to retreat, again, and again, until you were both panting. His hands gripped your hips so hard that you knew there would be finger shaped bruises there tomorrow. The desk creaked loudly, almost drowning out your mutual sounds of pleasure, the sturdy wooden frame rocking beneath you with the force of his thrusts.

His face was buried in your neck, and you tugged impatiently on his hair as you felt the first tendrils of your impending orgasm began to creep up your spine, until he lifted his head so that you could capture his mouth with yours. He slipped his hand between your bodies as he felt you tightening around him, his clever fingers finding your clit and tipping you over the edge into climax with just a few precise movements. You cried out his name, convulsing around him as you came, your hand tightening in his hair so hard that it must have been painful, and you felt his rhythm falter. He thrust harder, pushing as deep as he could possibly go, once, twice, three times, then he stilled and shuddered, spilling himself inside you.

You all but collapsed against each other, both boneless and breathing heavily in the aftermath of your orgasms. He was the first to recover, and he pressed a sloppy kiss to your temple as he straightened, retreating from your body. He moved over to the basin near the bed, dipping a clean cloth into the water and wringing it out before returning. His hands were gentle, in stark contrast to how rough he had been minutes before and you tried not to wince as he carefully cleaned away the sticky remnants of your shared release, but his observant eyes caught it anyway. He pressed a finger under your chin to gently tilt your head up.

“Did I hurt you?” He asked, face creased in concern.

“No,” you answered, much too quickly.

He raised his eyebrows at you, his expression disbelieving.

“I’m a little bit sore,” you reluctantly admitted.

His face dropped into a scowl, and you knew he was angry at himself for being so rough with you.

“I’m ok,” you assured him, brushing your fingers across his forehead to smooth away his frown.

He searched your face, looking for any sign that you might not be telling the truth and you met his gaze, your expression loving and completely open. He rested his forehead against yours, peering down at you through his lashes.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said after a moment, and you knew he wasn’t just talking about right now.

“Never again,” you promised.

“Okay.” He said softly.

He leaned in to kiss you, sweet and chaste, just a slow glide of his lips over yours before pulling back to slide one arm underneath you and the other around your back. You squealed as he scooped you up, bridal style, so that he could carry you over to the bed. He pulled back the covers with one hand and then lowered you down and crawled in beside you, immediately curling his body around you.

You tried to relax into his embrace, but you couldn’t, not when there was still so much you needed to talk about. You were afraid to bring it up, too scared to hear him say that this was the last time you could be together, so you waited until his breathing began to even out and he was almost asleep before you forced yourself to speak.

“What happens now?” You asked quietly.

“Huh?” He mumbled sleepily.

“With us,” you elaborated, “do you want me to leave?”

“What? No.” He said, suddenly sounding much more alert, “Of course not.”

He rolled on to his back and you turned to face him, propping yourself up on your elbow so that you could look at him.

“What will you tell the crew?”

“Nothing,” he said simply, and though you should have been relieved, you only felt more anxious.

“But Laila is already suspicious,” you pointed out, “and Tolya and Tamar are too sharp not to figure it out eventually.”

“Then we’ll tell them the truth.”

“They won’t want me on this ship when they find out what I am, Nikolai.”

“Last time I checked, I was the captain,” he smirked, “I decide who I do, and don’t allow on my own ship.”

“Don’t be stupid, it doesn’t suit you,” you grumbled, “You’ll end up with a mutiny on your hands.”

“Then we’ll leave,” he said easily, as if it was the most obvious solution.

“Leave?” You repeated, not sure you had understood.

He shrugged, seemingly completely unbothered by the idea. “I was always going to have to go home eventually.”

“You can’t just leave. You love this ship!” You protested.

“I do,” he said, turning on his side so that you were face to face, “but I love you more. It’s my turn to give something up. If it comes down to it, I’ll choose you, always.”

Your heart stuttered in your chest. Hadn’t you just been thinking that very same thought earlier? He leaned in to kiss you, slow and achingly sweet, and all of your protests died on your tongue. He nudged you gently to turn over, pulling you back against him and wrapping his arm around you, so that you could be the little spoon as you finally went to sleep.

#nikolai lantsov #grishaverse #shadow and bone #nikolai lanstov x reader #smut #my writing #i wrote this #patrick gibson #i love him so much #zoya is my queen but not in this fic

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hacash · 1 year

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I know you’re a huge Nate supporter and love to talk about all the microagressions against him, and one I noticed when rewatching is that in 2x3, when ted tells Jamie he’s starting on the reserve, he’s immediately playful with Will (“Mr. Kitman! Hit me!”) and it got me thinking how badly Nate must have felt seeing the ringleader of his bullies come back and immediately be nice to his replacement. Sort of like, “oh so you were capable of being a decent human being to the kitman this whole time but you just chose not to”

I think there’s such nuance in the way the the team getting nicer grates on Nate, who put up with their bullshit for years, especially since no one ever offers him a real apology. I think he’s definitely crossed lines, but when you look at it from his perspective, it’s easy to see how he got there. Anyway I just appreciate your nuanced takes on Nate and I can’t wait to see nick mohammed pull off another stellar performance in season 3!

Absolutely!

To be fair, I think Nate's aggression from Will stems a lot from power going to his head and being a perfectionist in his work; I'm a big fan of Nate but my God, the man is flawed. However I also think Will is a walking, talking reminder of how the team used to treat Nate, simply by dint of how they don't treat Will. He comes to Richmond and immediately gets handfuls of cash from them at Christmas, he's included in their little bonding rituals, he's part of the gang...whereas we all know the treatment Nate got whenever he tried to help the team.

(And that only finished after a particularly brutal show of strength from Roy. Which, uh, certainly gives Nate an interesting impression of what tactics do and don't work with the footballers.)

So yeah, from Nate's incredibly damaged perspective, having poor Will around must be unbelievably frustrating. He's pissed, and though he handles it badly, it's obvious why he's pissed. It's the moment when Eleanor in The Good Place, seeing her emotionally abusive mum parenting a new daughter, tearfully says that if her mum was capable of parenting the little girl then she was capable of parenting Eleanor but just chose not too. It's the moment in How I Met Your Mother when Barney screams at his absent dad 'well, if you were going to be some lame suburban dad, why couldn't you be one for me?!' - because clearly the team were capable, they were willing to be nice, they just didn't want to be nice to Nate, it must be about him, how they see him, he needs to change to earn their respect, he needs to perform those shows of strength....

...Of course, an outside perspective would tell you that the team's change of attitude from Nate to Will has absolutely nothing to do with Nate, and everything to do with how Ted's philosophy has impacted the team. (If Will had joined Richmond at the beginning of S1 I've no doubt that pre-reformation Isaac, Colin and Jamie would have eaten the poor boy alive, and the rest of the team would have been egging them on or wouldn't have dared stop it.) But Nate's not in the right place to see that. And considering all the history between him and the team, I don't think he should have to just 'man up' and accept that; he deserves that acknowledgement and those apologies. Which I am very much hoping we get this season.

#ted lasso #nate shelley #will kitman #the little things #ted lasso speculation

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neurunique · 2 months

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reader x ram, overwatch sort of university, post-war, peace is somewhat achieved, overwatch and null sector have a peace treaty, not much detail will go into this though. ramattra is offered a job in a higher up role teaching at a "hero university" (no this isn't gen v don't worry) where reader attends/other heroes may be teachers too. class could be like omnic education/history etc

It had been quite some time since the end of Null Sector's invasion of Earth. While the world was not entirely in agreement, but then, would it ever be?, humans had accepted Omnics as equals to them, and provided equitable changes to their lives via parliament. Hate crimes occurred less, it was safer at night, and omnics were treated with more respect as a whole. Human and omnic friendships were more common, etc... (I'm terrible at writing this part).

Ramattra had been promised many things from both Overwatch and political leaders as a result of his efforts. Rewarded would not be the correct word, however he had certainly been mostly satisfied with the outcome for his people. Of course, he still had goals, he still had problems, and fury - but life was just a little bit more tolerable. Each day he saw something that would make him smile inside, and it wasn't of a violent nature. Infact, he had found more wholesome discoveries quite enchanting; simple things like people holding hands walking by, omnics and humans getting along, etc.

He was well looked after, living in a penthouse apartment (with what furniture who knows honestly), and regular income and access to technology/upgrades at no cost. He had many teams available to him, need he only ask. His status was that of a highly respected omnic, however unlike before he was not invoking terror on anyone he saw. Omnics and humans around the world eventually felt empathy for the Null sector leader, understanding where he came from, and even more so, expressing appreciation for the outcome.

About a year or so after peace had been achieved, a university had been started up in (fuck knows where? England? near Overwatch etc) London, with intent to educate more people in the defenses, in the areas of tech and fighting, omnics and humans, and hero abilities. Of course, any university starting up would need well established teachers - mentors, leaders - to get people to actually sign up. Ramattra had been surprised to receive a letter offering him a job as head of History at the university. He would be in the position of lecturing students - humans?! How fun, he thought - as well as omnics, should the university attract them.

Of course, this would mean he would no longer be as secluded in his daily life; the most of his socialisation was with his cats, Meowttra and Catnyatta, and an occasional caffeine run down the road. He had grown very comfortable to a lifestyle such as this. And now, if he were to accept... this very generous offer, he would be forced to speak with the likes of Overwatch agents, past present and future; regular humans; and scientists. Part of him felt genuine excitement, as his research and ideas could potentially be broadened; however, he felt an immense sensation of fear - him, fear? - of teaching others. His method was simple: order, discipline, or congratulate; the latter rarely occuring. But if his job was mostly lecturing and organising class topics, he couldn't see too much of a problem.

The thought of creating strong values, not hateful ones, but fair ones - in a whole fresh generation post-war, also made him feel a spark of hope. Perhaps this war could've been avoided, had there been more resources for the public before - but there was no use thinking like this now - he had a chance, a real chance, to embody himself as a leader and role model to others. To start them off right, and possibly prevent the reoccurence of discrimination; or at least, more realistically, educate enough people to take a stand, omnic or human.

You were never one to be naive, so you thought - you believed you had all the wisdom one could have at your age, all the awareness it could take to *have* what it takes, to be that one percent to rise above the rest. Even though you had your moments of doubt, you would often reassure yourself that, if you tried your best and stayed as consistent as possible, you could truly do anything you set your mind to.

And the day you saw an advertisement for (UnNamed) University, your determination that had been long gone for some time now since finishing High school had returned. You'd always looked up to Overwatch, always aspired to be a great leader, or be lead by one - always wanted to do more, see more, help more. You received above average grades in school, topped one class even - but once the stress of it all ended, you struggled to hit that motivation kickstart that each day brought when forced a certain schedule.

Sitting up from your slouch in your tiny apartment couch, you found your laptop and started searching the university.

UNIVERSITY OF OVERWATCH

ENROLMENTS OPEN NOW

SCHOLARSHIPS AVAILABLE

ACCOMMODATION INFO COMING SOON

After clicking around for what felt like forever, you finally find the apply button. Like navigating a digital maze you sat, trying not to be flustered at the complexity of this damned thing, a headache starting to form from stress - you could do this, this was only the beginning, and if you couldn't make it through this beginning step, you wouldn't make it through the first DAY - and soon enough, you had finalised your application.

Interested in:

x Nanotechnology and Science

x Medicine and Healing

x History and Strategy

x Engineering and Machinery

Sitting down more comfortably with the stress off your shoulders, you look back to the tv and snack on some cheap popcorn, knowing that this boring life may change soon, and that you may finally achieve what you always wanted.

Look I'm just going to skip some fucking time here because I Don't want to ruin my creativity, here's a gap jump.

Day 0one of university, reader has received a JUST enough scholarship to study and live near the university (accommodation still being built but reader has been offered a suite as they are very valuable). Reader, and no students, are aware of who the teachers are, this is the first day...

Sitting in an assembly hall, Tracer etc announcement welcomes everyone...

Lots of people humans AND omnics fill the room...

Introduces the teachers...

Some familiar names...

"And, our head of history, lecturing all history classes offered and occasional electives, Ramattra," Tracer says into the microphone, and Ramattra, standing at the back of the stage near his other coworkers, gives a small wave to the audience. (*Tries not to imagine using the annihilation ultimate in the assembly hall*)

You sit in your seat, and freeze. You hadn't even noticed him there, in the shadows of others, even though he is so *damn tall*. His posture was surprisingly relaxed, considering his original "purpose" in life; you guess that the war outcome had truly changed things, for him and the world he wanted to create. A feeling of joy and warmth swims around in your chest, reaching its way up to your throat and you quietly clear your throat. You try not to beam - even though you've obviously never met Ramattra, or anyone here, only some local omnics and friends who were passionate about the cause, you just can't help but feel pure joy, empathy and pride for the positive outcome achieved. You simply couldn't wait to experience this university, and learn from a variety of people. Learning was always your favourite part of life, and making change within yourself and watching others change and flourish always gave you a feeling inside, like a beautiful spring garden blooming, filling your chest with a fresh perspective of life.

Inspirational people always made you feel great faith.

You snap out of your daze and realise you have been staring in Ramattra's direction for an *awfully* long time, and you pray he has not noticed, but then you wouldn't know, would you? You weren't even thinking of HIM - just life itself, the future... You hope that if you have him as a teacher, he will not remember you for staring at him for a solid 3 minutes. That would not be a great start...

The assembly concludes, and people start to shuffle out, some looking at their timetables, others checking their phones. On the stage, you notice some staff talking amongst themselves, walking around a little and introducing eachother; you smile. and while you cannot see Ramattra anywhere, you hope that he's there too, getting along with humans...

"I cannot *imagine* Ramattra as a teacher," a voice says as you walk out of the auditorium door. It wasn't staff, just a random student - and as you look at them closer, you are surprised to see its an omnic?! "Just... don't you think he's a bit too abrasive?"

"You talk as if you've met him," another student said in response.

"Well, I know enough about him to take a decent guess. I mean he despises humans -"

"He did," you interrupt quietly, but much to your surprise, you were actually heard - "erm... I mean, he did hate humans. He hated their actions. And now that's changed, right? So I don't see any reason for him to be... aggressive... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said anything."

"You're fine," The omnic smiled and held out their hand. "And you're right. I still don't see him as being very warm. I mean, he is male after all, I don't think I've ever had a *warm* male teacher..."

The door shuts behind you giving you a startle.

"Alright ladies," a bright british voice says, belonging to none other than Tracer; "And gents, and whomever - how about we make a move, yeah? I'm sure you all have classes to get to."

You wonder if she heard what you had been talking about, but you say nothing and smile at everyone there. "Catch you later everyone, nice to meet you all."

You swear as you walk away you see something move in the curtains of the corner window, and it reminds you of how Ramattra had been on the stage, hidden but visible; a shiver runs down your body and a slight cooling of the temperature affects you. You shrug it off, and walk to the nearest cafe (luckily, there were many), assessing your map at the same time.

(Maybe end of chapter? Coffee make brain go fast, coffee make brain go nervous if too much. Nomnom coffee tasty.)

PART 2

HI GUYS THERE IS SO MUCH MORE THAT IVE WRITTEN this is just the first part I hope you enjoy! I would love some feedback! 💜❤️

#ramattra #overwatch #NullSector #my writing #OverwatchU #ramattra x reader

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mbti-notes · 8 months

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Anon wrote: Helloo, I'm a 24 year old INTP woman. I've been reading your blog for 6 years now. Back then I knew about type but not typology and cognitive functions. Your blog made everything very clear, as well as fascinating, so thank you very much for that.

I was interested in psychology, because I felt inadequate then and had a hard time relating to people. I wanted to achieve a lot so I knew I had to work on my weaknesses first, to balance everything. MBTI theory showed me exactly what those were. The stress was big too at the time, I was alone, abroad for my studies and I'm from a third world country, the adaptation was hard and I struggled a lot with that as well as other hardships due to material conditions.

Anyway, for years I've read some of your recommendations and digged deeper into the human's psyche. Into psychology and social sciences as a whole, even though I'm in a STEM field. I tried my best to work on my emotional intelligence and really choose a career path taking into consideration my type and aspirations, even going against my parents will to do so.

Since I've been working on this for so long and with awareness, I'd like to test my maturity, what can I do to know if I'm well-developed ? If I have a good grasp of my functions ? If I worked through my traumas ? Them, being beaten for the slightest thing as a kid. I'd love to tell myself that I do, but I don't think I have enough perspective to test it objectively, so what do you think?

Thanks a lot in advance, you're really doing an amazing work, stumbling upon your blog felt like finding a hidden treasure in some lost island in the vast ocean. One must be lucky and aware of its value to recognise the remarkable craftsmanship you put into it. You have my admiration for that. Wishing you the best in life 🙌

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I appreciate your kind compliments. Funnily enough, I also treat my blog as a hidden treasure chest of sorts. It's a place I stash gems and pearls (of wisdom) that I've picked up. I make them rediscoverable rather than just leaving them in the junk drawer of my mind, lol.

The way you frame the question is rather narrow given that "maturity" is quite a big and complex concept. If your question was sparked by reading the ego development section, there are reliable ways to assess it, but doing so isn't likely to provide you with useful information. There are a wide variety of factors that influence maturity, so it's not something that can be changed through sheer force of will. The process of maturation must be respected and allowed to progress at its own pace, rather than forced toward some imagined result.

Because maturity is such a huge topic, I'll limit the discussion to what I believe is relevant to INTPs. One thing I've noticed is that INTPs tend to confuse "development" and "growth". To be fair, these two words are often used interchangeably and their definitions can be quite vague in psychology. I'll explain how I distinguish them:

Development is about improvement of your ability to make good use of the inner resources you already possess. These resources include things like your talents, skills, and constructive traits that help you reach important goals or milestones in life.

Growth is about transformation, which usually involves a dramatic change to your attitude, perspective, worldview, or self-concept. When you "grow as a person", there is a significant shift in how you conduct yourself or live your life.

If you're science oriented, you can think of development as doing things to increase mechanical efficiency and quantifying the progress, whereas growth is like an unpredictable chemical reaction that creates a qualitatively new state of being. To distinguish development and growth in this way is not to say that they are separate. Purposeful self-development is one important factor that contributes to growth, but it is not enough in itself to cause growth. When INTPs believe that development is the same as growth, they hit an invisible wall as soon as they possess enough self-confidence to handle most of life's problems. What are they missing? Making good use of intellectual abilities, materializing talents, and improving skills will certainly help you be a more capable or competent person, but it doesn't necessarily help you grow into a more mature person.

Maturity (as defined by the stages of ego development) isn't a skill you can work on systematically like math or violin, and it isn't even an end goal in itself. Maturity is a side-effect of sustained psychological growth. If you want to know how to become more mature, then a focus on self-development isn't enough, it is also necessary to understand what spurs psychological growth.

If growth is like a chemical reaction that creates a qualitatively new state of being, then an important aspect of growth is actively exposing yourself to new experiences that have the potential to alter your psychology. Such experiences could be as simple as changing up a stale daily routine or as complex as moving to a completely foreign country. The key point is you are continuously learning new and important life lessons. This is why greater maturity also implies greater wisdom. Wisdom isn't just about what you know or how much you know; it's about being able to apply what you know with enough nuance, sophistication, and adaptability to create objectively good or beneficial results in everything you do.

Another difference between development and growth is there could be one method of development that works for many people for self-improvement, but there is no simple formula for growth. A new experience that significantly alters your psychology might have no effect whatsoever on mine. Why? Each person has their own unique lessons to learn based on what's happening deep in their unique psychology.

If you must learn from life experience in order to become mature and wise, then is it worthwhile to control what kinds of life experiences you have? Yes and no. Oftentimes, the experiences that provide the most opportunities for learning are the ones you find most challenging. Challenges usually bring some pain, so people tend to avoid them rather than use them as opportunities for growth. You shouldn't just randomly take on each and every challenge you see, but you also shouldn't exert such extreme control over your life that you miss out on unexpected or fortuitous challenges that would spur growth. The challenges you get to control are things like: pursuing higher education; stepping out of your comfort zones; confronting painful memories; talking to people you disagree with; etc. The challenges you don't get to control are things like being born into a dysfunctional family or suffering a tragic loss. Unexpected challenges are just as, if not more, important because they strongly compel you to build strength and resilience.

The advantage of knowing type theory is you get to know yourself better, especially when it comes to being aware of the challenges that you inflict upon yourself because of flawed perception and judgment. Being able to spot the weaknesses of your personality opens up many opportunities for learning and growth.

Are you able to identify all your patterns of function misuse? What do those patterns tell you about your challenges?

Are you successfully minimizing/mitigating instances of function misuse in your everyday life, i.e., meeting your challenges?

Are you able to use your functions optimally, i.e., to apply them appropriately and wisely to form a healthy relationship between yourself and the world?

Have you built up a healthy sense of self and practice proper self-care through introverted function development?

Have you learned how to adapt well to your environment(s) through extraverted function development?

Are you striking a good balance between the introverted and extraverted sides of your personality (i.e. neither is extreme)?

If you are on the right track in type development, life doesn't necessarily get easier, but you become much more adaptable to life's challenges. The results you get should speak for themselves.

If you are a mentally healthy individual, the desire for progress and growth never really ends, so it's natural to wonder about what more there is for you, especially in times when life is going relatively well. However, asking how to "test" yourself is kind of a suspicious question to me because it makes me wonder what the underlying motivation is. Sometimes, it's an indication that there's something wrong with the approach. A "test" implies there's a formula, but maturity doesn't work that way. You say you don't have the perspective to test yourself objectively? That is precisely how you know you have more maturing to do. When your perspective seems too small, then there's something you need to learn in order to broaden it. But I can't tell you exactly what that something is. You'll know it the next time you experience true growth. To paraphrase Kierkegaard: Life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards. This is the difficulty of being human.

What I can say is, at 24, you haven't lived much. You've still got much more ahead of you than behind you. You have a lot of lessons yet to learn. Personality type only tells you that some of those lessons have to do with your functions. But the rest is unpredictable. Some lessons come with the mistakes you'll inevitably make throughout life. Yet more lessons will come with the ups and downs of fate. And even more lessons will come as you get much older and gradually lose all the things you hold most dear.

If you want, I can give you some questions to reflect on for building self-awareness. Maybe some of them can lead you toward growth.

What sorts of thoughts frequently run through your head?

What feelings do you frequently experience?

What is your overall mood most of the time?

Are you aware of your needs and do you attend to them well? Are you aware that you have physical, emotional, cognitive, social, esteem, aesthetic, spiritual, and transcendent needs?

Are you aware of your passions and joys and give yourself enough space to experience them regularly?

Are you aware of your wants and desires? Are you able to explain where they come from or what motivates them?

Are you aware of your identity? Are you able to describe the things that define you as an individual? Are you able to explain how those things came to define you?

Are you aware of your worth? Are you able to describe your method of appraising/evaluating yourself, explain why you use that method (and not some other method), and justify that it is a good method?

Are you aware of how you are perceived by others? Are you able to express yourself authentically? Are you able to recognize and respect the authentic expressions of others?

Are you aware of the roles/positions you occupy in society? Are you aware of how those roles/positions affect your relationships with the people around you? Are you aware of all the duties, obligations, and responsibilities you have to yourself and others?

Are you aware of your moral values and how well you abide by them? Are you able to explain how you came to adopt them?

Are you aware of your core beliefs about how the world works? Are you able to explain how they came into being and how they influence your behavior?

Are you aware of the criteria/standards you use to define "success"? Are you able to explain their origin and justify them as being the most appropriate criteria/standards to use?

Are you aware of your aspirations? Are you able to explain why you've set the life goals you have previously pursued, are pursuing now, or will pursue in the future?

Are you aware of your potential? Do you have an ideal self that you wish to become? If so, are you able to explain how you came to construct that image of yourself? Are you able to envision more than one possibility for expressing who you are (other than what you are at present)?

Are you aware of your guiding principle/philosophy of life? Are you able to explain where it came from or why you chose it?

Mature people understand themselves more deeply than the average person. Depth of self-knowledge is necessary for making wise decisions in life. When you have meta-awareness of yourself, such as your needs, desires, preferences, strengths, weaknesses, motivations, biases, etc, you'll eventually be able to transcend your subjectivity as needed in order to operate more objectively. When your perspective seems too small (i.e. subjective) as an INTP, then you ought to use Ne to actively expose yourself to new knowledge/experiences that expand your horizons. By doing this, you should eventually encounter challenges that spark growth reactions.

#intp #auxiliary ne #development #maturity #wisdom #growth #self awareness #ask

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howaboutcastiel · 2 years

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The Teddy Bear (Jake Lockley x GN!Reader)

Request (paraphrased): The reader has a stuffed animal that they can’t sleep without. Embarrassed, they hide it away whenever their boyfriend, Jake, comes over. One day, despite the reader’s best efforts, Jake finds the plush toy. Fluff ensues.

Genre: tooth-rotting fluff. A bit of angst. PG-13 I’d say. Vague description of sex.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author’s note: I took the liberty of making the reader gender-neutral. I hope that’s okay but I can’t really ask because it was an anonymous request. Also:

THANKS A BUNCH FOR 300 FOLLOWERS!! VALIDATION FEEDS THE TINY GREMLIN IN MY SOUL.

It had only been a month since you’d started dating Jake Lockley. Already, you felt like he was the best thing to ever happen to you. He showered you with affection every chance he got, acting as if the two of you had been together for your entire lives. Jake brought out the best in you. He treated you with love and respect and he drew out all the weirdness and vulnerability that you normally hid away behind thick protective walls.

That being said, there was one secret you couldn’t bring yourself to reveal to him. One pesky thing you felt the need to keep hidden away. It was a part of yourself that you would perhaps never let go. Hell, it was ingrained into your very being. But you were ashamed. And shame was one thing you couldn’t face from him. Not from your Jake.

Tucked in between the boring, adult-looking pillows that sat atop your full-sized bed was the source of all that turmoil. His name was Jefferson. A small, old, worn, patchy teddy bear that you had slept with nearly every night since adolescence. From the day you received little Jefferson, Christmas morning the year after you turned four years old, he occupied a permanent spot front and center on your bed. He was light brown, save for the plum-colored thread that made up his nose, with a checkered green bowtie and half-shank buttons for eyes.

Jefferson shared the bed with you every single night. He came with a baby blanket that matched the pattern of his tie, which you kept folded underneath him during the day and tucked beneath your pillow at night for good luck. It was more than just a ritual for you. You couldn’t sleep without those little shaggy arms tucked into your chest. Any night in your teens that you’d had to go without him, when you’d sleep away at a friend’s house or even in a hotel, you tossed and turned endlessly until the sun came up. Even now, well into your adult life, Jefferson never left your bed.

That is, except for when Jake Lockley came over. He’d only been to your apartment twice. Three times, if you would count only standing in the doorway to give you a cheeky kiss goodnight. You had never spent the night with Jake before; after all, a month wasn’t that long and you weren’t going to completely disregard the social norms of pacing a romantic relationship. That being said, you were getting to the point where it didn’t make sense for you to leave after a late night with Jake. It didn’t make sense for you to force him out, either.

When a make-out session on your couch had gotten particularly heated, you’d been struck in the chest by the realization that Jake would be making his way to your bedroom soon. Not that the thought of him shot any pain through your heart; it was that you knew Jefferson would be right there, staring at him as soon as he opened the door to your room.

It was silly. An adult who still slept with a stuffed animal with a blanket to match. A fully-grown person who still made the bed with their teddy bear propped up against the headboard each day. You had certainly heard the teasing before; your siblings had given you more than your fair share of grief. Even your mom had threatened to throw Jefferson out during the summer before you started high school. She insisted you were too old for toys—certainly too old to have names for them. Your childhood best friend was also averse to the idea, laughing right in your face when you brought the little bear to a sleepover sophomore year.

So when Jake was forced to pause for breath after abusing your mouth until his face turned blue, you took the opportunity to excuse yourself into your bedroom. He furrowed his brow at you, not used to seeing you flustered by him. He was a hard man to fool. A hard man to hide things from.

“I’ll just be a second, I promise.” You sang in his ear, tossing in a wink to hopefully disorient him as you swiftly dove into your room. There was no perfect hiding place; your apartment wasn’t exactly high-end. There was no ideal spot to tuck Jefferson away for the evening to come. Not wanting to take long enough to make your lovely boyfriend concerned, you settled for shoving the teddy and his little quilt to the farthest point underneath your bed. The duvet didn’t quite reach the floor, but it would have to be enough to conceal your little bedmate for as long as Jake decided to stay. Not quite satisfied, but distracted by the other cuddly man in your life, you positioned Jefferson as far from view as you could before creeping back out of your room and toward the sitting room where your boyfriend remained.

“Mi Amor,” Jake breathed a sigh as you returned to his line of sight. He drank you in like a man stranded in the desert, desperate for your touch and ravenous at the mere image of you in front of him. Still, he was a gentleman. “I’m not making you uncomfortable, am I? We don’t have to do anything that you don’t want, Mi Tesoro.”

My love. My treasure.

“No. It’s nothing like that, baby.” You cooed as you sat down on his lap, raking your fingers through his thick black curls. A ginger kiss found its way to his forehead, followed by a more lingering peck on his nose. “We can go as far as you want. I’m more than comfortable right now.”

And so you did go exactly as far as Jake Lockley wanted. You ended up exactly where you thought the two of you would be—atop your bed with nothing left but a few rogue articles of clothing strewn about the room. Both of you were drunken in love, feeling complete as your partner held you close and moaned and whimpered praises and sweet nothings. When you finally settled down, out of breath and more than satisfied with how the evening had unfolded, you figured that Jake Lockley would be as good a replacement as any to hold in your arms while your little teddy spent the night under your bed.

After about an hour, you stirred underneath Jake’s grip. Though he was the little spoon, he held you firmly in his grasp, hands wrapped around your forearms and legs folded neatly between yours. You tried to disturb him as little as possible as you wriggled yourself free from his hold. As much as you would have loved to just stay where you were, your bladder, unfortunately, had other plans. A lazy, disgruntled whine came from beside you as you sat up on the end of the bed, finding the balance to stand up.

“¿a dónde vas, cariño?” Jake rasped as you stood up from the bed. There was hardly any light in the room; you’d have to fumble your way to the bathroom door. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m just going to the bathroom.” A soft laugh broke apart your whisper. He could be so caring, it manifested itself in silly ways, including sleepy worrying. “I’ll be right back, baby. It’s okay. Just go back to sleep.”

You finally stumbled your way over to the entrance to your small en-suite bathroom. It only took you a minute or two to relieve yourself, though the lingering pull of sleep did make you move slower than normal. You blushed as you caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, half-dressed and disheveled from head to toe at the hands of your darling Jake. You smiled at the thought, the imagery still fresh and vivid in your mind.

That smile quickly disappeared as you opened the bathroom door. Your bedside lamp was on, revealing that Jake was sitting up, legs on the floor as he faced the wall opposite you. In his hands was an unmistakable piece of green checkered fabric, twisted delicately around his fingers. Your heart sank as he turned to the noise of the door opening.

He was holding Jefferson in his arms.

“Who’s this little guy, cariño?” His mouth was upturned into a dazed half-smile. You were sure that your face was bright red. You swallowed thickly as you approached the bed where he sat.

“He’s, umm—it’s nothing! Just a toy.” You grabbed him out of Jake’s hands, nervously tucking him underneath your arm as Jake scrunched his nose at you. Even in the dim light, there was no hiding the pink of your cheeks and the shame in your eyes.

“I think he’s cute.” He unwrapped the blanket from his fingers, re-folding it the way he had found it underneath your bed. “Why was he hidden under there? Did he fall off your bed?”

“What? No…” You couldn’t find your thoughts in your half-asleep brain. Jake seemed like he wouldn’t judge you for telling the truth; he’d just assumed that the teddy belonged on your bed anyway. You searched his face for any trace of ridicule, but all you saw were worried, soft brown eyes.

“I didn’t mean for you to find him. I was embarrassed for you to see him on my bed.”

“But why, Mi Vida?” He pulled you down into his embrace, tucking your knees around his torso as he braced your back with his open, calloused hand. “You think I would… what? Make fun of you? Think less of you?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” You avoided his gaze, staring down at his chest as it rose and fell with his tempered breathing. “Most people think it’s kinda weird for someone my age to sleep with a teddy bear.”

Jake sighed as he dropped the blanket onto the duvet beside him. He used his now-free hand to cup your face, tipping your chin so you were looking into his eyes.

“I think it’s wonderful. It’s adorable.” He smiled sweetly, eyes crinkled in a surprisingly unpatronizing grin. “We all have things that help us get through the droll pain of adult life. I don’t think a teddy is all that weird, Mi Carazón.”

He planted a lazy kiss on your nose, snaking his hand to the side of your head. Your embarrassment was melting away by the second.

“And you act like being weird is enough to push me away.” A playful scoff left his lips. “Really? As if a stuffed bear could scare away this mess of a man.”

He pulled you forward as he let himself fall to the bed. You were careful not to put all your weight on him, turning over so that you could rest your head on his chest. He breathed a deep sigh of contentment and you could practically hear his smile. You pulled the bear out from under your arm, setting him adorably on top of Jake’s stomach.

“Now. You want to introduce me to this little guy?” He hummed into your ear as you balanced the stuffed animal on Jake’s warm, smooth skin.

“His name is Jefferson.” You pressed sheepishly into his chest. An unimaginable relief coursed through your body as Jake chuckled against you and took the bear in his hand, stroking your back soothingly with the other.

“Pleased to meet you, Jefferson. I hope you don’t mind sharing your bed with one more tonight.” He took his hand off your back for just a moment, reaching to turn the lamp off as you pulled the cover back over the both of you.

“I’d say he’s happy to share.”

#steven grant #moon knight #marc spector #oscar isaac #steven grant x reader #jake lockley #moon knight x you #moon knight x reader #steven grant x you #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley x you #moon night fanfiction #marc spector x reader #masterlist

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studentinpursuitofclouds · 1 year

Note

use this ask to talk about your random headcanons for any character you like :)

Whoa, boy! It's been a long time since I wrote random headcanons (like, a month ago? idk). A great reason to add another portion of my crappy headcanons about sdv and sve. I hope you like it!

Some random SDV and SVE headcanon:

Once at the Stardew Valley Fair, when many tourists with their children come to the festival, a couple of teenagers began to tease and offend Jas. Shane, of course, was not happy when he found out that some brats were teasing his dear niece. But instead of barking at those little assholes, Shane acted differently. He whistled with all his might, and all the chickens that were in the aviary at the festival came running to his call. Shane gave them the command to 'sic'em, girls', and all his feathered friends rushed at the offenders, clucking and pecking to drive them away. Jas is saved, Shane is laughing his stomach out, mayor Lewis is not too pleased that the chickens are terrorizing the tourists. How Shane managed to train chickens like that - no one knows, except maybe Marnie and Jas. Also, Jas gave her uncle the nickname "The Chicken Lord". Well deserved, some would say.

Every Sunday, when Andy goes to Pierre's shop to pray at the Yoba altar, he always stops for a couple of minutes near the fence at Marnie's ranch and pets the baby goats and lambs, which quickly rushed to the old farmer in search of affection. Only Marnie knows about this little "tradition" and Andy asks her not to spread it, because he doesn't want to be called a slobber. Marnie doesn't mind, especially since Andy almost always brings a couple of his crops to treat her favorite animals. She also sometimes gives him a gallon of milk or fresh goat cheese as a thank you. No, Andy is not shy, go away, shoo!

Sam, Sebastian and Abigail went out one autumn day at night into the woods to perform a 'summoning ritual' using crystals, bird feathers and other crap that they found on the Internet and thought it would be scary and fun. None of them knew that the ritual had actually worked, how the fuck- A portal opened in front of them, from which the head of an ugly horned monster crawled out, ready to destroy everything around. Fortunately for them, Rasmodius felt a strange magical aura and arrived in time, drove the monster back from where the creature got out and closed the portal. Later, he severely scolded the terrified trio and promised to whoop their asses if anyone thought of doing the summoning ritual again. If you are doing magic and occult things, turn to Magnus for help, it's better to do it with a mentor than to do it anyhow.

Lance has repeatedly expressed his desire to explore the deepest levels of the mines in order to study the growth of purple mushrooms, which are in abundance there. To his luck, Marlon just needs the help of a battle mage in clearing those very levels from monsters and finding rubies and diamonds for Magnus's experiments. The hunt went well and Lance was able to pick up a couple of great specimens to study. They will serve as excellent material for the continuation of his book on magical plants and mushrooms, as well as for the brewing of important life elixirs. But the shroom stew turned out disgusting. Well, he still have to eat it, you can’t just throw out food, right?

Olivia was the one who instilled in Harvey his love for truffle oil. When Victor caught a terrible cold that was accompanied by a high fever, a frightened Olivia called Harvey for help. The doctor took care of Victor all week until he fully recovered. Relieved, Olivia already wanted to pay extra for Harvey's services, to which he categorically said no, explaining that this was his job and that he was doing it to save people, not for money. Olivia sincerely understands and respects his position. And yet, the next day, she sent a couple of bottles of expensive truffle oil by parcel to the clinic as a thank you, noting in a letter that she insisted. Harvey has to give credit, with oil the dishes really got a lot tastier and richer. It's better than the Joja ready meals anyway.

#sve #stardew valley expanded #sdv #stardew valley #sve lance #sdv wizard #sdv rasmodius #sve magnus #sdv jas #sdv shane #sve andy #sdv sam #sdv abigail #sdv sebastian #sdv harvey #sve olivia #sdv headcanons #sve headcanons

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hereticpriest · 1 month

Text

Chew

Rating: Mature?

Relationship: Laszlo Kreizler x reader

This is a bit of a prequel to Bite, expanding upon the beginnings of their relationship. Soon to be followed by another prequel about their wedding night.

Warnings: Heavily implied odaxelagnia, letters of an intimate nature, flirting in the 1890s, period typical misogyny, period typical relationship culture.

Note: Szerelmem means 'my love' in Hungarian.

When you had first started your job as typist at the Kreizler Institute, you thought that you would have a small cubby tucked away somewhere in the bowels of the Institute. Somewhere where the good people who ran the Institute could forget that you existed until they had need of you, like any woman who dared have a job in these tumultuous times. Your interview with Dr. Kreizler had been perfunctory, but he had paid attention to you as you spoke, and he only interrupted you once, to stop a somewhat self-deprecating verbal spiral. He gave you a short test regarding your typing skills and ability to take dictation, reading over your results with a double-edged comment about your remarkable grasp of the spelling of complex medical terminology.

When you had arrived for your first day, you were surprised to find yourself led up to Dr. Kreizler's office, where a desk had been placed with a typewriter and appropriate supplies. The chair was comfortable, but you felt a little bit nervous under the heavy scrutiny of your boss. Thankfully, he was fair, and genuinely kind most of the time. He was wonderful with the children, and you truly admired the easy manner in which he spoke to them. He had a habit of prying, as if he needed to understand the way your mind worked, and you remember distinctly the moment you told him he couldn’t ever be capable of fully understanding your mind seeing as he was a man, and you were a woman. You had experiences he could never properly relate to.

That had certainly sparked one hell of a debate, but he hadn't been upset with you. Instead, he seemed to want to prove you wrong by way of dissecting your brain while you were meant to be working. He asked you questions endlessly, sometimes completely out of nowhere, and often those of a personal nature. However, you found yourself happy enough to speak to him, exposing your tenuous relationship with your parents, who were upset that you chose to have a job despite their intense desire for you to marry as soon as possible. He noticed your compulsion to chew the skin around your nails and asked you questions about it as if you were his patient rather than his typist. The following morning, you came into work to find a brand new pair of gorgeous gloves on your desk, and Dr. Kreizler suspiciously quiet.

Shortly after, you met the first of his friends, John Moore. He was very kind to you, with a certain sensitivity you weren’t used to seeing in high society men, though he always treated you as if you were very delicate. Next, came Sara Howard, a woman who impressed you very much as she was the first woman to ever work for the Police outside of cleaning staff. You both spent many a time together commiserating over the trials of working for men, though you felt a bit bad since you had much less to complain about than she did. Dr. Kreizler was very kind to you, if blunt and manipulative. He’d never made you feel uncomfortable in the way that men often made women feel uncomfortable, and he was respectful of your personal space. You often stayed at the Institute as late as he did, and he would always offer you his arm to walk you to his carriage, giving you a ride home safely, and walking you to the door despite you insisting it wasn’t necessary.

He was, however, prone to staring. It wasn’t like you thought he was staring at you - you were sure he was just lost in thought and not really seeing what he was looking at - but you could feel his eyes burning into you regardless and it had taken some time to get used to it. He was also prone to prying in ways that were considered socially inappropriate. He asked you about your fears, your dreams, your desires, and your relationship with your parents. He probed when you told him that your parents wanted you to marry instead of working for him. He asked about your prior suitors, or at least attempted suitors, and how you felt about them. Every time you helped with a case, be it criminal or simply a patient, he would demand your opinion and make you defend it.

The fact that he did it to everyone made it easier to handle - he didn’t think you were stupid and feel as if he needed to decipher your nonsensical thinking. On the contrary, he valued your opinion and thus wanted to hear it, and discuss it. He just wasn’t very good at the discussion part, and made it feel more like defending one’s scientific papers. Mr. Moore tended to get offended on your behalf when Dr. Kreizler did it in front of him, but you always took it in stride, and when you were done with the conversation or had run out of points, you simply had to admit it in order for the good doctor to leave you alone. He wasn’t trying to be a pest, he just liked a good argument to get his brain whirring. He liked dissecting every point to find the truth of a matter, and was very much open to considering the opinions of others, which was a rarity. He just made it seem like a fight when it was really his burning curiosity.

The brothers Isaacson entered Dr. Kreizler’s group last, and together they began to work on the case of the murders of young boy prostitutes. Mr. Moore protested your involvement like he did Sara’s, but you were a bit more gentle in telling him that you had a very strong stomach. You were, in fact, fascinated by the whole ordeal, which was a morbid fact you tried to keep to yourself lest you seem rather strange. You didn’t do any investigating yourself - you were simply there to take notes, and make copies of the files that Sara borrowed from the Police department. However, Dr. Kreizler brought you everywhere with him when he was investigating, offering you his arm and keeping himself between you and any other men to avoid you becoming uncomfortable. He was careful with you, and you appreciated that he took you into consideration when he brought you to less than appropriate places.

Note-taking for the investigators brought you to becoming somewhat comfortable in Dr. Kreizler’s home, as you all often met there, and Dr. Kreizler had a habit of thinking aloud when he was finished at a crime scene. He began asking you to come back with him to the house so that you could discuss the case, notes you had already taken, and what you were missing. Often, John Moore and Sara Howard would join you if they had the time, though you lied to your parents when you told them you were never actually alone with Dr. Kreizler. Countless times, you had curled up on the sofa across from him, talking until Cyrus or Stevie would have to remind you that you might want to leave before nightfall. The good doctor would come with you in the carriage even though he had no need to, and it always made you feel soft, even if he’d been rather annoying or mean that day.

It was only recently that things had begun to change.

Your parents were on a rampage - a backhanded reference to your wasted youth and beauty by one of their high society friends had sent them into a tizzy, and you found yourself the victim of near-constant badgering. They were insistent that you leave your job and let them find you a husband so you could raise your station and theirs. For a long portion of your employment, you’d been able to stave them off by promising that you did want to marry, you just wanted to experience the world a little bit first. Unsurprisingly, that had come to bite you in the ass. They had found a gentleman whose prospects were affected by his unfortunate stutter, and he was willing to overlook your want for employment. Your parents had given you a lecture the previous night, and made it very clear that you were going to marry this man when he asked. The ‘or else’ was implied, and had kept you up all night.

You stumble on the slight ridge where the door to Dr. Kreizler’s office closes, which he told you was used for privacy as it helped dampen sound. It’s the first time you’ve ever been careless enough to trip over it, and you find yourself caught in the stare of the good doctor, his honey-brown eyes scanning over you quickly as if looking for an explanation.

“Are you okay, Miss L/N?”

Something about the soft way he asks you causes a crack in your demeanour, and you nod, swiftly making your way to your desk.

“Of course, Doctor.”

A disbelieving hum answers you and you settle yourself at your desk, opening Dr. Kreizler’s journal to the marked page where you left off so you could resume your work. You lose yourself in it, the soft clicks of the typewriter lulling your mind enough that you don’t hear the doctor’s approach until his hand gently closes around your wrist, pulling your palm away from your mouth. He hisses air through his teeth as you stare, ashamed, at the mottled purple of your thenar eminence. You didn’t even realise you were doing it. You knew you had been biting last night after your lecture from your parents, however, you never thought you would unconsciously do it in the presence of Dr. Kreizler.

“Your biting habit worries me.” He states as he leans his hip against your desk so that he can look at you properly, “What troubles you?”

Another crack.

“Let me help you, Miss L/N.”

Spiderweb cracks spread across the glass separating you from your emotions. You have so little control of yourself left, so close to breaking. You close your eyes briefly, steadying yourself, then look up at your boss as calmly as you possibly can, “It is a childish matter, Doctor, I couldn’t possibly trouble you with it. Please excuse my behaviour.”

Dr. Kreizler sighs.

“Miss L/N, please tell me.” he asks a little more sincerely, and you shatter. Your bottom lip wobbles, and his fingers slip up from your wrist to wrap around your hand instead, an intimacy that makes both of your faces’ hot. His fingers slip through yours, and you stare at your hands instead of looking at him, nerves sparking at the intimacy.

“My parents want me to marry.”

“So you’ve said.”

“Yes, well, they’ve found a man willing to take me on despite my questionable desire for employment.” You inform him, looking from your linked fingers to his face and noticing a tightening in his jaw.

“Ah.” He acknowledges, taking a breath, and for the first time you notice the flowers sitting on his desk, and the letter attached to them. You don’t forget your troubles so much as grab the distraction with both hands.

“Oh, those are lovely. I apologise for overstepping my bounds, however, may I ask who they’re for?” You ask, “You even wrote a letter. That’s so lovely, Dr. Kreizler.”

The doctor’s cheeks go pink, and he glances at the flowers before looking back at you, “Have you accepted his courtship?”

Your face falls, and you frown as he outright ignores your query, which seems almost worse than if he were to tell you off for it. But, you shake your head, looking away from him as you pull your hand free of his. He holds on for a moment longer before letting you go.

“He has yet to formally ask me, and thus I haven’t yet been forced to decline as I intend to.”

The tension in Dr. Kreizler’s shoulders ease, and you wet your lower lip as he leaves you, walking over to his desk and picking up the flowers. His nervousness rubs off on you, and you stand, following behind him.

“The flowers are for you. I know it is wholly unprofessional for me to propose courtship at your place of employment, however I believe we’ve surpassed the simple bonds of employer and employee to something more akin to friendship, so I hope you will forgive me. I-I know that I may not be what you want in a man… I have… deficiencies that may make you hesitant, and I know that I am difficult.” he says as he touches his right arm, which you knew about only because he had needed assistance one evening while you were at his home without anyone who knew about it, ”But I would take care of you in all ways. You would want for little, and of course, you would be able to continue your employment and pursuits of knowledge. I would never deny you anything simply for the fact of your gender.”

You’ve never thought of Dr. Kreizler that way. In the interest of keeping a professional relationship on both sides, and treating him with the same careful respect as he treated you, you had put his being a man firmly in the back of your mind. He was a doctor. He was a brilliant mind. He was your boss. He was something of a friend. Last, and very much least, he was a man. As you stare at him in shock, you begin to put latent thoughts together that you’ve often pushed to the back of your mind. He is a handsome man, with sweet honey-brown eyes and lovely brown hair. His body is appealing, with broad shoulders and a strong chest. His intelligence is attractive - you’ve always known it in the back of your mind, but you’ve ignored how that might’ve made you feel, instead focusing on the outcomes of his intelligence. He is well-groomed, from his pristine facial hair to his fantastic outfits, which you know cost a pretty penny. He has always cared for you, and shown you some of the best sides of himself to balance the times when he is more difficult. His weaker hand ghosting across your back when he helps you from the carriage while his strong hand holds yours to steady you comes to mind when you think of how he cares for you. Your father has never shown that much care for your mother - your coachman helps your mother from the carriage while your father marches on ahead.

You realise with a start that Dr. Kreizler is everything you’ve ever said you wanted when you considered marriage. And as you examine the softness and the twinge of hope in his eyes, you realise that you do actually want this. You want him. Your cheeks grow hot as you realise that you truly, honestly, deeply do want him. And he just asked if you would let him court you.

A surprised ‘oh!’ escapes your lips in a rush of air, and you take the flowers from him, staring at them in shock.

“I… I would accept, should you propose courtship, Dr. Kreizler. I thank you for asking me rather than my parents, however, my family is old fashioned and you… well, you would need to ask my father as well.” You admit, and he seems surprised that you agreed, which hurts your heart.

“I had intended on pursuing this properly, once I knew your desires on the matter.”

“And now you do. Perhaps you should call on my father.”

“I will.” He assures you, and you stare into his eyes for a moment, holding your flowers to your chest like he might try to take them back.

“Good. I will await the good news.” You reply with a firm nod, and a smile creeps across your face like you’re trying to restrain it, mirrored on his own. You head over to your desk, and he moves quickly to pull your chair out for you, drawing a shy smile to your lips. You spend the rest of your day at work listening to the soft rumble of Dr. Kreizler’s voice and trying quite hard not to laugh when three separate patients, two of the other workers at the Institute, and John Moore remark on the man being in a particularly good mood today.

That evening, a knock comes at your door, and you wait with baited breath, hiding at the top of the stairs as Dr. Laszlo Kreizler asks your father for permission to court you. His proposal is professionally detached, running off of what you’ve told him about your parents, and emphasising that he would like to pursue marriage swiftly. Your father knows exactly who the good doctor is - he had done his research when you began working for him - and he is aware of exactly how wealthy the man is. His social status has suffered from his career choice and his strange views, but he’s still above the man they’d intended for you, and they knew you would be well-looked upon for getting the man to finally settle down. It would look good on him to marry a high class woman with good standing as well.

You stand up quickly as you hear your mother approaching the stairs, and she breathes a sigh of relief when she sees you, looking happy about you for the first time in a long while. She encourages you to come down, and as you approach her, she teases you gently about having a gentleman suitor and that perhaps she should have seen the wisdom of you working with a well-to-do man as if this had all been your plan. You’re happy enough to let her believe what she likes so long as she isn’t angry with you. You had changed after returning home from work, and now wore a dinner gown that was much prettier than much of the clothing Dr. Kreizler - Laszlo, as he’d asked you to start calling him - had ever seen you wear. He brightens at the sight of you, and you smile demurely, taking your father’s arm delicately.

“Dr. Kreizler has come to ask to court you, darling.” He says as he pats your hand on his arm fondly, as if he hadn’t been arguing with you a short few hours ago. You smile with a bit of faux surprise on your face, and you give your father’s arm an encouraging squeeze.

“Well, with your approval, Father, I will most heartily accept.” You reply, and you smile as Laszlo holds out a sealed letter to you, taking it from him and tucking it into one of your pockets. He kisses the back of your hand and bids you all farewell, promising to return in the next week or two to get to know your family better, and asking your parents if it would be acceptable to take you for a chaperoned walk this coming Saturday. You bite the inside of your cheek to hide your excitement, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you try to keep your cool in front of your parents.

You tear into your letter and drown yourself in his words, his proclamations of adoration and desire. He begins with a softer tone - how surprised he was when you came in for your interview, the way you provoked his mind, how impressed he was to find that you’d read not only his own work but the work of other alienists. How you coaxed him to open up piece by piece, in ways he hadn’t expected. How you’d encouraged him to see some of the little joys in life when you’d brought him to the rooftop gardens and told him what each of the flowers was. The way he loved to hear your opinions on cases, be they criminal or patients of the Institute, for you always surprised him with a new perspective.

Next, he professes little intimacies. You were wrong when you’d assumed he wasn’t staring at you and was simply lost in thought. He admits to getting lost in the soft curve of your smile, the delicate click of your fingers on the keys of the typewriter, and the way you sometimes hum while you’re working. He loves the way you grip his bicep in your hand when you walk together, and the gentle flex of your fingers when you get excited by something you see, or the clench of your hand when you get annoyed by something. That you trust him so deeply as he helps you from the carriage, barely looking where you’re going as he guides you, trusting him to keep you safe. How his heart races when your knees bump together in the carriage, or when you let him place his hand on your lower back to guide you through a crowd at Delmonico’s. How he dreams of the soft curve of your back, and what it might look like unbound.

By the end of the letter, your heart is racing just as he’d professed his own had raced, and you lay back on your bed after you’ve unburdened yourself of your day’s clothing with the help of your maid. Alone, you hide yourself under layers of blankets, your hand between your thighs as you read your doctor’s private words for you. You stroke your pleasure from sparks to a fire, eyelashes brushing against your cheekbones as you toss your head back into the pillows, a silent cry caught in your throat. Guilt burdens you afterwards in the cold dark of your bedroom, and you slip from your bed to sit at your desk in your nightdress, writing in a flurry to your doctor. Now, with the last remnants of your act of devotion cooling on your inner thighs, your writing is sinful. But your doctor does not believe in a God, nor the binds that society places on a man and a woman, and he will not shame you for your weakness. Perhaps he will even take himself in hand like you did, and devote himself to you in love and sin.

The idea of it burns you, and you bite your trembling lip as you write about what you’d done with his name upon your lips, hidden under metaphors that he will doubtless understand. By the time you’re done, you know this letter should be burnt. If you were a good, pious, proper woman you would walk down the stairs to the fire in the fireplace and burn the letter to avoid anyone seeing your shameful words. You seal it, then slip it into the pocket of your coat, crawling into bed and getting comfortable for the night. The following morning, your face is burning as you place the letter into Laszlo’s hand, and he gives you a discreet smile that only worsens the feeling until you settle at your desk to pretend you aren’t an unprofessional ball of embarrassment.

You hear a soft gasp, and your eyes meet Laszlo’s as he reads your letter, his cheeks burning. He coughs, adjusting in his seat, and folds the letter, presumably to read later. A wise choice. You giggle, and he smiles despite himself, turning his gaze back to his papers. You admire him for a moment longer to make up for all the time you’ve wasted not gazing at him, then turn back to your work, excited for the future. Hopefully, he won’t make you wait too long to be wed. It seems almost a waste to delay any longer.

You find yourself engaged no more than two months later.

#laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler

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