#withers x reader

[ghaik]

in the hands of fate

no one asked for withers smut except for me but i wanted it really really bad

withers/dark urge, afab, 18+, ~3k also on ao3 tags: fingering, restraints, pov 2nd person, durge being durge

By all accounts, it should be a good night. The tieflings, now safe from the goblin threat, have joined your camp for the evening. Spirits high and gratitude running deep, they insisted upon throwing a celebration in your honor. It was you and your companions, after all, who had come to their aid and ensured their safe passage from the grove. They fill every inch of your small campsite, passing around bottles of cheap liquor and plates upon plates of food. The party is meant as a reprieve; tomorrow, you set out for Moonrise Towers. It should be a good night.

But it isn’t.

You sit far from the festivities, having drug your bedroll and bag across the river, sequestering yourself from the rest of camp. You want to indulge, to enjoy this break—Gods, how you need a break—but you don’t. You can’t.

So many warm bodies—

You squeeze your hands where they rest on your knees, nails digging into your skin. Who knew you’d have a fear of crowds? It wasn’t this bad in the grove—but then again, they had so much more space, and it was far less likely you’d bump into someone, feel that intoxicating touch of skin against skin and think, yes, this one, yes—

Something foul and sickening rests within you. The thought that your wicked hands might brutalize another body is enough to send you in voluntary solitude.

Sure, you tried. You made the effort in the beginning of the evening to participate—to sit around the fire with the others, to pick at the meal, to speak with Zelvor—but all too soon someone brought up Kanon, insisting upon paying respects, and then Lakrissa brought up Alfira’s sudden and suspicious disappearance and—well. Guilt made you so nauseous that you had to excuse yourself, afraid it all might come spilling out.

The tieflings have endured enough horror even without your help. This self-imposed isolation is your last effort against acting on your vile impulses. If you do sleep-kill again, you hope that you’ll make enough noise splashing over to the other side that someone will awaken and stop you before you cause too much carnage.

The sounds of the camp ricochet in your ears and interrupt your meditations, your futile attempts to calm your racing heart. Laughter and drunken singing. The sound of a flute, poorly played. Noises of passion, of crinkling leaves and bushes. Bodies.

Bodies, you think. Soft, warm, fleshy. So many bodies. It’d be absurdly easy to slip something into the alcohol, to sneak in while everyone is full and buzzed, and sate your longing for blood. A gory vision pops into your head, unbidden: you, standing over a pile of dead tieflings, their skin torn and sliced to pieces; their blood, pooled so deep around you that you could bottle it. Their organs fresh and ripe, ready for the fire—

You jump up abruptly and rub your eyes, as if that alone can make the images unreal. You will not give in. You can’t.

Nervous energy just shy of adrenaline bubbles within you, emanating deep from your marrow. The sensation has lingered since you found that mangled fisherman on the shore and has only abated once—the morning after you buried Alfira. Nothing you’ve done on your own has been enough to silence it. No amount of meditation or exercise or sleepless nights has helped, not even a little. It’s why you tremble at the mere hint of combat, why the sight of fresh wounds makes your heart skip a beat. You’ve abstained from anything that can make your precarious grasp on your control slip, be it alcohol or tobacco or the mere act of touching another person.

Gods, it’s so unfair. You’re tired of being in control, tired of letting this urge steer your every move. Give in or restrain yourself, you’re punished either way. You’re exhausted. A frustrated yell simmers low in your throat but you swallow it down, shove it away. It won’t do to wake half the camp trying to let off some steam.

In the distance, someone else screams. Your ears perk up as it devolves into a pleasured shriek, and, your woes momentarily forgotten, you shut your eyes. If you concentrate, you can almost make out the rest of their sounds before they’re lost to the wind: high-pitched peals of laughter, faint grunts and moans that border on bestial. Your mind quickly fills in the visuals: some lucky couple nude on the forest floor, drunkenly grinding against each other. Or, perhaps using a tree as leverage, legs spread, caught up in the euphoria of relief and the promise of safety.

You have no memory of when your last lay was, or if you had ever been with someone at all, but your body is no stranger to these thoughts. Sex and violence excite you in equal measure, and your core pools with a familiar heat.

The itch under your skin seems to guide your hand between your legs. Head back against the rock wall that serves to hide you, your thoughts roam to the couple as you rub yourself through the thin linen of your pants.

Your mind conjures mere glimpses into their intimacy. Sweaty, heaving flesh; hungry tongues and saliva dribbling down chins; gnashing teeth, the sweet crescent of a new bite. Blood, your corrupted soul whispers, and the scene shifts.

Those screams of pleasure warp into yelps of pain and fear. No longer do you play the role of silent observer, but of perpetrator. Your hands wrap around a vulnerable neck, pulse thrumming against your palm, and you squeeze. The body beneath you thrashes. Phantom fingernails claw their way down your arms and your body reacts as if it were real. Pleasure shoots down your spine, all lightning and—

“Thou art alone?”

You jerk. Your thighs snap shut, trapping your hand between them. “Withers!” you hiss-shout, too surprised to fully control your voice. “Don’t scare me like that!”

“Thy companions celebrate a mere breadth away, and yet thou art alone. Why?”

Embarrassment floods your cheeks, and you try to inconspicuously move your hand from your crotch. It isn’t like you’re naked, or were being vocal about it, but the images behind your eyelids bring guilt as well as shame. “Nevermind that, Withers. Why are you here? Is something wrong?”

“I believe I asked thee first.”

Embarrassment gives way to irritation, but it quickly fades. Your shoulders droop. “I’m sure you can guess.”

Out of everyone in the camp, he’s the only one that knows about your Urge. It isn’t like you wanted to tell him (or anybody, for that measure), but he was the first one you came to after…after you’d lost control. You’d begged on your knees, teary-eyed, for him to undo your mistake even before her body had started to cool. He, more than anyone else, would understand your precautions, your unwillingness to mingle.

“Thou art afraid.”

“Afraid? I’m…worried, is all. Not afraid. It’s just some tieflings.”

“Is fear not the root of worry? Thou canst not trust thyself even to attend a party in fear of what thou might wrought. It is not the tieflings that thee must worry about.”

“The point, please?”

“And thus we return to thy question. I am here because I wish to offer thee a service.”

“A service? Withers, you already know what I want”— Alfira’s mangled corpse flashes in your mind —“and last time I asked, the answer was a pretty clear no.”

“Thou speak of the bard, nay? Indeed, her name is writ, the matter resolved to fate. I speak of something else that thou hast need of.”

“Unless someone died from too much drink, I don’t need—“

He holds up a hand. “Thou walk in the day as if thou wert asleep, and thou spend thine evenings on vigilant watch. Thy compatriots look to thee for guidance, and yet thou spurn their attentions. It is not thine Urges that consume thee. It is thine own fear that strangles thee so.” He shakes his head. “Thou wilt not succeed against the Absolute in this way.”

“I don’t get it,” you say. “Are you…are you warning me? Telling me I’m about to burst?” Your head falls back against the rock wall, the sharp edges digging into the base of your skull. “I thought you weren’t allowed to meddle in that.”

“If thou wilt listen, thou wilt understand.”

“Then speak plainly, Withers!”

His lips fold into a frown. “As thou wish. Thou need release, but art too fearful of losing control. I offer thee the chance to clear thy mind, so that thou might succeed.”

“I don’t—“

“And thou do need release, nay? Did mine eyes not see thine own hand betwixt thy legs?”

Your mouth runs dry, a hot flush returning to your cheeks. “I don’t—I mean, how would this even…”

“Merely provide an affirmation, and I shall take care of the rest.”

His weathered face betrays nothing. As far as you can tell, his offer is genuine. Your heart quickens.

“This doesn’t like, violate anything? You’re allowed to do this?”

“It is a service, nothing more. I offer it this once and only this once. I ask thee again: what say thee?”

Withers is the closest thing you have to a friend in this damned world, and the only one who you trust completely. Skeletal weirdo or no, he knows more about you than you seem to know of yourself. He’s right, too—you aren’t sure just how many days of being wound-tight you have left before you lose control completely.

“Please,”you say, the desperation clear in your voice. “Yes, please.”

He nods once, as if pleased. “Thou should’st remove thy clothing.”

It hits you that you’re really going to do this. Something stirs within you, something not unlike the first itch of the Urge. You stand and look past the river, toward the camp, where the fire has started to burn low. Only silhouettes move in the darkness, unaware of anything beyond the rock wall.

“Thou has picked well,” he says, his words just shy of comforting. “Thou wilt not be seen.”

His confirmation only spurs you along, and you shuck off your top and bottoms, fingers fumbling with the laces in your nervous haste. Or is it excitement? You can’t tell, the sensations blurring together. It isn’t like you’re new to being undressed in front of others—your campmates have seen you nude multiple times, after all—but Withers is another story entirely. Did he watch when you changed in the morning? Did he see when you wandered out ashore to bathe?

To his credit, his face remains entirely impassive as you peel off your undergarments. If he’s impressed or disgusted by what he sees, he doesn’t show it.

“Kneel.”

Your lips part in shock at the dominant edge to his tone. His gaze burns through you.

“Art thou having second thoughts?”

“No, no. I’m okay.”

“Then kneel.”

At his orders, you sink to your knees. The earth is pleasantly soft beneath you, the bed of grass acting as a cushion. Your bedroll is mere inches away, resting against the rock wall to your side.

Like this, Withers towers over you. It’s strange, but it suddenly seems as if he’s always been taller, as if he’s always stood straight. Power radiates off of him, lurking within his otherwise frail frame. He raises his hand, palm facing you, and your breath catches in your throat as it begins to glow.

“Thou fear thyself a beast, and thus a beast thou shalt be.”

Magic surges from his palm and around your wrists. For one brief moment, your arms are not their own as they lock behind your back, your wrists bound together. This magic is unlike anything you’ve ever seen, and, as you strain against it, incredibly strong. Some unknowable thing deep inside you tightens, then relaxes. Yes, you think, flexing uselessly. There’s freedom in being bound.

“Thou hast one last chance to speak thy mind. Art thou ready?”

The idea of asking to stop now is absurd. You’ve made it this far, and it's both curiosity and need that drives you to seek it to the end.

“Yes. Please.”

“Very well. Open thy mouth.”

You obey, even though his request strikes you as odd. A mere moment later, Withers stuffs a strip of white cloth in your mouth and ties it behind your head, effectively gagging you. It isn’t too thick—a bandage, you think—but it in conjunction with the magic restraints, it renders you harmless. Helpless.

If it were anyone else—if it were Gale, or Lae’zel, or even Wyll—you’d feel caged. Vulnerable. You’d never allow this.

But it isn’t. It’s Withers, and so you submit.

Bound and gagged, you look up at him, a silent question brimming in your eyes. The ache from earlier hasn’t subsided, but he’s taken away your capability to handle it yourself, and he’s made no move to step any closer.

What now?

“I believe I mentioned that I would prevent thee from losing control. The rest is in thy hands.”

You let out a frustrated noise from behind the cloth. Of course he’d say something like that.

As if taking pity on you, he inclines his head to your side. “Thou hast all thou need.”

You follow his eyes. The only thing nearby is your bedroll.

Oh.

Oh.

With difficulty, you nudge your pillow free and maneuver it into the open space. Not having use of your arms and hands makes it a graceless effort. It’s humbling. You’re sure you look a fool, but Withers’ expression remains impassive.

As you straddle it, thighs on either side, you expect to feel nervousness, to acknowledge the inherent awkwardness of getting yourself off in front of another person.

Instead, your veins thrum with anticipation. With need. His magic bonds tighten around you just shy of painful, as if a reminder. He holds the reins. You cannot break free.

The first jerk of your hips is tentative, unpracticed. You aren’t even sure this will be enough to get you off—until your clit catches on the rolled edge of the pillow, and you gasp. You repeat the motion, dragging your hips back against the pillow, then forward, chasing that initial jolt.

This will work, you think, and you roll your hips in earnest.

You chance a look at Withers. His expression remains as unreadable as ever as he merely watches. His unwavering gaze should make you shy. Hells, Withers or no, having anyone watch you should make you curl inward and try to hide your debased movements. Instead, though—

Instead—

Your head falls back, nose tipped to the stars. It’s exhilarating. You didn’t think yourself an exhibitionist, but there’s no denying the surge of arousal that stems from having an audience, from knowing that he sees you. All of you.

Something like a growl forms low in your throat. Your wrists flex against your bindings, the magic tightening in response, and the growl becomes a needful whine.

You’re losing yourself to the pleasure, and quickly. Whatever measured movements you had before are gone, replaced as you rut—for there’s no better word to describe your animalistic motions—against your pillow. The only thing that stops your tongue from hanging out in your lust-filled haze is the gag, but saliva still pools in your mouth and dribbles down your chin.

It feels so good to finally have an outlet after weeks upon weeks of built-up frustration, but there’s something missing, an itch you can’t satisfy. You want to feel flesh, to marry this act of hedonism with something gruesome, but it’s impossible. You garble out something unintelligible even to you, something halfway between a plea and a scream.

Your thighs ache, unused to the motion, but you can’t give yourself a break. You’re so close, just on the precipice of tumbling over, but you can’t quite make it. You position your cunt right over the seam and roll your hips, trying to focus that specific sensation, but even still it isn’t quite enough.

You pitch forward, body unbalanced, and the only thing that saves you from face-planting into the soil is Withers’ not-quite-warm palm on your shoulder.

“Wouldst thou like assistance?”

You look up at him through hazy, half-lidded eyes, your body stilling. His touch is like lightning, sending goosebumps rising all over your skin. If only I weren’t bound, you think. You want to push him into the ground, to sink your teeth into what little flesh remains—

His magic surges, tightening around your wrists with such force you think you might bruise. “Art thou listening?”

A pitiful whine escapes you, and you nod. If you weren’t gagged, you’d start begging.

“Again: wouldst thou like assistance?”

Another nod, this time twice as frantic, twice as fierce. You hope it communicates even half of your desperation.

“Very well.”

He kneels. One hand remains on your shoulder to stabilize you, and his other travels between your (embarrassingly slick) thighs. He runs two fingers along your slit, coating them in your arousal, and presses them into your entrance. You gasp at the sudden intrusion, but any discomfort quickly fades to pleasure. You’re so wet it hardly matters; part of you thinks it still won’t be enough.

He’s infuriatingly efficient. He spends no time teasing you or drawing out this already-agonizing moment. Instead, he merely crooks those bony fingers of his into a spot that makes you see stars.

You babble behind your gag, nonsense words and noises that serve no purpose than to be an outlet. Close, you want to say, please, please—but you can only moan. You have no basis to judge whether or not he’s skilled, but it doesn’t matter. It feels so good that you think you might pass out, chest heaving as he brings you to your peak.

It’s with a strangled cry that you finally come, forehead bowed into the sharp and jutting bone of his shoulder. Your thighs snap closed around his hand as you ride out your orgasm, and then you really do pass out.

“Thou mayst not yet sleep. Come.”

The world flickers back for just a moment, but it’s long enough for your magic bindings to disappear. Your head still rests on his shoulder; he smells like dust and old parchment. It’s strangely comforting.

Sluggishly, you lift your head and blink. His careful hands pull the spit-soaked gag from your mouth, saliva spilling down your lips and chin, and you swallow.

“Thou art satisfied?”

Yes, you try to say, thank you, but you can’t make the words come. The satisfaction, the relief, runs bone-deep, the kind you haven’t felt in days. It isn’t quite the same as when you awoke the morning after murdering Alfira, but it settles the roar in your ears, softens the desire in your blood.

You manage some sort of affirmation, nodding sleepily. Whatever energy that kept you up has dissipated, replaced with a pleasant tiredness.

“Very well,” Withers says, and stands. “I shall leave thee to thy rest.”

You sink to your knees and rub at your wrists. Despite the pressure you felt, there are no visible bruises from your bindings, and your fingers are neither numb or stiff. You look at your discarded clothes, at your dirtied pillow. You need to dress in case you wake to an emergency, but the pull of sleep is undeniable. Maybe, if you asked nicely, he’d magic your clothes onto you…

“Hey—” you start, looking up, then fall silent immediately. Withers has disappeared. He made no sound, left no tracks beside you. It looks as if he had never been here at all.

#.txt #bg3 #reader #withers bg3 #withers x tav #withers x the dark urge #withers x reader #bg3 spoilers #like miiiinor act 1 spoilers and also act 1 durge spoilers #also mild gore warning but in durge fantasies. so like the game #cant even tag this as crack treated seriously bc it isnt crack. to me. #this has been sitting in my drafts since AUGUST #but the epilogue restored my love and also this idea

[joonsytip]

Withering for You || Seungcheol - Epilogue

Pairings: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, CEO! Seungcheol au, Husband! Seungcheol au, Wife! Reader au, Music Teacher! Reader au, Arranged Marriage au, College Sweetheart au, Exes to Lovers au

Synopsis: When you are arranged married to the man, whose heart you had broken years ago, even dreaming about mending things seems next to impossible when he has been holding grudge for all these only to return it to you tenfold.

Warnings (specific to this part): tears, profanities, everyone is hurt and sad, mention of alcohol consumption, lovesickness, healing, friendly threats, suggestive

Word Count: 5.7k

Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao <3

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

You're enjoying the peace and calmness that moving to a different country has brought within. It has been half a year since your divorce with Seungcheol had been settled, been four months of you making a decision seemingly best for you by moving out.

Both you and Seungkwan had wanted to open several branches of your academy all around the world because you both believed that music transcends barriers and connects souls.

Though your motive while shifting was a break from everything but it also resoluted to build another branch rooted to Melodease.

You are busy nowadays, given you've to overlook the purchase and legal matters, start taking care of the design, contract and staffing. Seungkwan has offered to come over and share the workload but you're always the one to brush it off. Because keeping yourself busy is the only way to not overthink about that one person whom you wanted to spend the rest of life but apparently it was too much of an ask.

The divorce, you had tried everything to withdraw it but you should have known, it was Seungcheol who wanted for it to happen at any cost. So eventually you succumbed to his stubbornness. He wasn't even willing to face you, making it impossible for you to reach out to him so you couldn't quite recollect when was the last time you saw him. All you could remember is he never again made an eye contact with you, since he left your house that fateful night.

A rift has been created between you and your friends. You were so mad at all of them for making Seungcheol aware of the bitter past that you've been hiding. They got earfuls from you whenever they breathed in your direction. You had stopped humouring them, even going as far as to inform them about your departure just two days before. A huge fuss was caused by Mingyu and Eunsoo while Seungkwan and Wonwoo blamed themselves quietly.

When Wonwoo had arrived at your doorstep the night before your departure to apologise and ask you to reconsider your decision, you in turn had assigned him a task which you couldn't do yourself.

Your parents visit you from time to time and it's your brother who crashes at your place the most because though everyone hesitates, he's the only one who doesn't lend an ear to your protests.

"It's been half a year, don't you think you should let loose and forgive those four.", Chan voices out distressed as he once again sees the string of texts and voice messages he received in the group chat he was suddenly added to one day just so your friends could get updates of you.

"You don't understand Chan. It was not their decision to make. You don't think I could have told Seungcheol if I wanted to?", you sit down frowning, "We did end up getting divorced after all. And even though I'd have dealt with my career, I don't know how he is doing on his own because now he would neither even confide in his family and nor he has many friends. It has become a fight against his family, against the people he cherished the most."

Chan understands your friends but most importantly he understands you, he nods and sighs, "There's something I haven't told you."

"Did Seungcheol come and apologize to you, mom and dad after I left?", you say giving a small smile.

Chan is flabbergasted, "How did you know?"

"I just guessed. I knew he'd come someday, it's only after I left. Wish I could have just gotten a glimpse of him before coming here. Why do I miss him?", you say suddenly fanning your face and look up trying to blink away the tears. Chan observes you silently.

Your heart still beats for Seungcheol.

Seungcheol rubs the wedding band which sits on his finger, lost in thoughts he then proceeds to caress the other wedding band the one he wears in a chain, which is also yours.

In the last few months, he solely focused on destroying Jiah. He went on to dig her past and accumulate every malicious deed, hurtful comments or poor gestures done by her throughout her life including all her flings. If it would have been earlier he would have had a hard time believing it all but not anymore. After gathering every possible bit, he made his PR team to work overtime to destroy her image. Each day new articles would resurface by random journalists on several platforms.

"I'm sorry, Cheol", Jiah cries at his feet, hands clasped, begging, "Please please just stop, I'm ruined."

Seungcheol laughs completely apathetic, "This has just begun. I'll bring you on the streets. I make you cry tears of blood."

Jiah looks him at horrified, "I'm begging you, we are best friends Cheol--"

Seungcheol burns at her words, "Since you showed me how best of a friend you are, it's my turn to show how great I can be. I won't stop until you dread hearing my name, until you regret what you've done. Hell, you've just heard of it, I'll make you live in it."

"I'll do anything you want, I'll apologise to Y/N please spare me.", Jiah continues to beg.

"Don't you dare utter her name with your filthy mouth. For the tears you made her cry, I'll make you cry tenfold. If you think there's gonna be an end to it, no, you'd suffer till your consciousness stays with you."

Then he makes the security drag her out of the building, onto the road.

Using her now completely ruined image, he pulled all cards to ruin off her father's company. Though he felt bad for her parents but they should have raised their daughter well and since they didn't it fell on their plate as well. That's what he had said to her father when he had the business go bankrupt.

Seungcheol doesn't stop here, he's still finding ways to put Jiah behind the bars, and if concrete proof doesn't knock on his door, he has his mind set on creating a whole new room of miseries for his said best friend.

But nothing he does gives him a sense of fulfillment. He's empty, heartbroken and a looser in love. Every time he remembers the way he had treated you, the schemes he had plotted against you, the venomous words he had said to you and the hatred he harboured towards you, they make him wanna disappear from the face of earth.

His parents don't get to see him, there's no monthly family dinner at the Choi's anymore.

Seungcheol who wanted to have you as his in all of the lifetimes, doesn't dare to make such a wish anymore. He has failed you, so he accepts the fact that you deserve the best. Someone who's not him. Someone who gives you all the smiles and none of the tears.

The wedding gown which you left untouched in his closet when you had moved out, Seungcheol walks in every night just to hold the garment. He imagines you in it and hugs it to his chest pouring his heart out. Each night  the empty house echoes his cries. The composition you had gifted him on his birthday, he plays it everyday while reminiscing the times he has got to spend with you.

His heart only beats for you.

"You are in love with your ex husband who's in love with you as well? I still don't get why you both are divorced."

You roll your eyes and walk past Jihoon who doesn't bother to follow behind because you'd be able to hear him anyways.

"Make it make sense, from what I heard...", his brows quirk up and nods at himself, "The bigshot Choi Seungcheol is being unnecessarily dramatic when you both can now live happily ever after."

You throw him a glare, "Don't you dare call him dramatic. He's in a rough spot and going through hell. But since he's stubborn and won't listen to anyone, we'll both keep wallowing in pity."

Jihoon gives you a look, "At least you're sensible. Anyways, you'd always see a DND board on my cabin's door. So please don't hesitate to get lost and not show your face to me."

You're neither surprised nor disappointed.

Lee Jihoon is a prodigal producer who's renowned around the world for his compositions. He can play every instrument in and out (claimed by people) specialising in Violin. You and Seungkwan had been eyeing him since long for managing your academy and it took you a lot of effort and determination to be able to rope him in. The man is always snappy and unfiltered. He knows he ain't people pleaser thus, he likes his space and doesn't allow interference. You just have to trust and leave the rest up to him and it'll be all taken care of.

Surprisingly, he knew you as well and though he would never admit, you're guessing the only reason he agreed to manage the new branch because as an artist he felt violated with your supposed plagiarism case. That he empathizes with you.

You don't usually go around sharing your personal life with everyone but with Jihoon it came in candid. Gradually, he came to know about you and you about him. The man is a feline who can differentiate good from bad. So after pulling many late nights and over many drinks, you both have become comfortable with each other. So comfortable that he treats you as his errand woman and every time you dare to protest he threatens to breach the contract because as he brags he has money. That annoying mf--

Jihoon knows he shouldn't be nosy but also he couldn't turn a blind eye to how you cry every time you get wasted. How whenever you bring up your husband there's an abyss of longing in your eyes. Though you're diligent and pushing yourself hard, your mind always reels back to him.

"It's your birthday next week, what do you want?", Jihoon asks and tuts instantly, "Except for Seungcheol, I can't give you him."

"Nothing.", you state blatantly, "Just stay with the academy."

"Nevermind, trying to give you Seungcheol sounds easier.", Jihoon jokes and the cushion he receives on his face isn't uncalled for.

Nobody is as distressed as Mingyu. He hasn't seen you in months, you don't talk to him like before. He feels guilty. He shouldn't have involved himself in your matters when he knew why you tried so hard to cover the truth. He regrets urging Eunsoo to confess to Wonwoo because even though she presses that she's fine and masters at hiding her feelings whenever in the same room as Wonwoo, he knows she isn't exactly doing well. It's been quite a time and neither you nor Eunsoo are doing well. Not like Wonwoo or Seungcheol are doing any better.

So he thinks it's only the doable, he needs to take the matters into his hands, if not alone atleast with Chan and Seungkwan. It might try to fix things one last time, with no expectations, no agendas of his own.

When Chan asked Mingyu to accompany him somewhere, he found it odd but agreed nonetheless.

His face changes when he finds himself infront of Seungcheol's house.

"If you see any tendencies of violence in my speech or body language just hold me back. I don't wanna beat Seungcheol but actually I do wanna beat him.", Chan says as they enter the house.

Mingyu is already breaking in cold sweat and the only accountable relief is Wonwoo's presence. When they see Seungcheol, both Chan and Mingyu are shocked at his state. He looks sick and tired.

"Are you okay?", Mingyu asks and Seungcheol nods. That's when his eyes falls behind and he sees the large wedding picture frame hung on the wall. His eyes linger further and he sees how on every wall there are pictures of you, or you and him.

Chan witnesses that Seungcheol's doing as bad as you, maybe worse. Seungcheol has not been able to meet his eyes since he knew about the past like now, his eyes are down in shame.

"Look at me", Chan says calmly, "You don't have to be ashamed of something you have never taken part in."

"But my father did.", Seungcheol whispers, "I can't forgive myself about how I treated you all and her when all you did was protect me."

"You are not doing fine neither she is.", Mingyu adds, "What's the point of seperation when you both love each other?"

"She cries everyday because of you. Regrets wanting to be selfish and marry you because you're suffering. She blames herself for everything to the point that she isolated herself from her family, friends and her academy. She's alone off to a faraway place where if an emergency occurs the fastest we can get to her would be after a 10 hour journey.", Chan doesn't usually breaks but his voice cracks, "It's so hard to see her being hard on herself. The breakup in the past must have been hard on you, but for her it was worst. I shouldn't be disclosing this but it took her a lot of therapy sessions to get out of depression. It was arduous for all of us because as you know she's the life of our family, the academy and her friends circle."

Seungcheol listens to your brother wide, teary eyed. He feels as if he's in a whirlwind.

"When I don't have any grudge against you, Y/N wants to be with you the why are you making all of our lives miserable?", Chan speaks with frustration, "You still have chamce to make things right. Don't choose to be a victim to the circumstances once again and let the love of your life go. You both have defied the odds and been together so why complicate things when there could be happily ever after waiting for you both."

"Do I deserve--"

Seungcheol haults in track, scared when he sees Mingyu seething and fisting his hands.

"Stop being a crybaby and own up. You caused a lot of damage to Y/N and you should make it up to her.", Mingyu says through his gritted teeth, "Stop trying to run away. That woman has been suffering for years just because of your family and you. She's a saint for being so understanding and patient, always putting everyone above herself. Though she'd never admit, we all know that she went away just not to be a bother for anyone, specially you. I'll beat you to a pulp if you suck up one more time. Fucking coward!"

Tables turned, now it's Chan and Wonwoo who are holding Mingyu back because Mingyu himself has the patience of Saint so when he gets worked up, things get out of control.

In the midst of all this, Mingyu throws a glare at Wonwoo as well and that's when the later unhands him and steps back.

"Do you lack common sense? What's the point of hanging her pictures and playing her compositions when after all this, she's waiting with her hands open but you won't go.", Mingyu keeps on scolding, "Why do we have to come and speak sense into your mind when you're an adult with much developed brain, developed enough to plot things to ruin someone's career?"

Six pairs of wide eyes falls on Mingyu. Seungcheol thinks hell has come in form of the buff guy infront of him. Chan thinks it's so cool of the same buff guy. Wonwoo thinks in near future he'll be facing the same fate as Seungcheol's facing today.

When Chan and Mingyu leave, Wonwoo stays behind. He quietly places a box on the table.

Before Seungcheol could enquire, he answers, "Y/N had requested me to give you this box on her birthday. Though I don't know what it contains but I do have a feeling that there won't be any more appropriate time to hand this over. I should have given it to you earlier."

After Wonwoo leaves, Seungcheol exhales sharply as his hands gently caress the box and carefully opens it.

There's a letter that sits atop. He opens the thread tied around it and starts reading.

Hey Cherry,

I couldn't help but call you that, sorry if it made you uncomfortable. If you're reading this, then it's probably my birthday today. I'll make my birthday wishes later but here's a return gift for you. This box is an ode to you, to commemorate your love because enough we didn't get our happy ending, I could live the rest of my life reminiscing the moments we spent, the love we shared together.

Now let me show you what our love meant through my eyes. There should be a sweater inside the box, take that out.

Seungcheol immediately takes out the red crochet sweater and traces over the garment and the wordings on it. He then goes back reading the letter.

Remember when we were dating, I had grown an interest on crocheting and took classes. I had woven this sweater for you. It says "Mon Amour", which means my love in French another outcome of the music lessons I was taking from the French teacher. Never got a chance to give you this and now that you've grown big muscles, it won't fit you. You can give it or throw it.

Now you'd see a pile of vinyls. Since you've always encouraged me to pursue my passion, you became the source of my inspiration. There are 26 vinyls and each of those compositions were inspired by you. Some were composed when we were dating, some after our breakup, throughout the span of seven years and some while we were still married. I thought of returning these to their owner in true sense. These came straight out of my vault. You can keep them or burn all of them.

Seungcheol takes out the vinyls and rearranges all of them in the order of the dates written on them. He notices each Vinyl cover had a colour of it's own and each one was addressed to his name in your handwriting.

You've always loved Tulips. Remember each time I bought you those, how you'd end up getting sad because they'd wilt? So I gathered every colour I could and preserved it for you. There's a flap in which I've kept the Tulips. Don't get sad anymore, they'll stay with you now.

The rest are random things I had brought on whim either because I thought you'd like them or it reminded me of you and they may not make any sense to you.

Seungcheol notices the spilled ink in many places, blurring the words, as the letter reaches it's end because of the tears those fell down while you wrote the letter.

Nostalgic isn't it? So now that we're closing in, I'd like to say a few things to you. I don't blame you for happened in the past, nor does my family. As things turned out, we didn't end up together. But I don't want you to become a stranger whose laugh I could recognize anywhere. Let's not be that (only if you're comfortable enough to acknowledge me if we ever cross paths again).

As I said, even though it's my birthday I'll make a wish for you, make sure to fulfil it. Not request but it's a demand from your ex-wife. I wish you would move on from all the sufferings and pain. You should move on from me, from us. I wish for you to fall in love again with someone who'd keep you happy and bring back the liveliness in you. I admit it would hurt me, a lot but it'd mean nothing if you'd be well.

Never hesitate to come and find me, even if it's just for a brief moment. I'm always available for you. Also, just to remind you, don't you feel lonely, remember my friends are yours as well. Do disturb them at your will, most they'll do is throw tantrums but they're nice I promise. I love you, will always do. But you, move on okay? So that's all I guess. Sorry took too much of your time. Take care of yourself.

From,

Your Cherry (for one last time, promise)

Seungcheol is bawling his eyes out, screaming in pain as he reads your letter again and again, occasionally holding it close to his chest.

There's only one question that reels in his mind. How could you love him so selflessly?

You didn't expect much on your birthday but with all your friends and family travelling hours long, jamming up your place just to celebrate your day, it feels nice.

"Jihoon arranged the cake, but since Y/N wanted the party to be held in here he cancelled the venue.", Seungkwan states as a matter of fact, "Thank God, he's here otherwise my lifeline would have receded to half worrying about her."

All of your friends look at you happily chatting with your parents.

"Thanks Jihoon.", Eunsoo expresses her sincere gratitude, "I'm so relieved that she has you. She still hasn't forgiven us and knowing how private she tends to be, it's nice that she at least has you."

"We all feel the same.", Wonwoo assures and Eunsoo side eyes him as she shifts further away from him, changing seats.

Jihoon smiles genuinely, "Y/N is a great person to have around you so gradually you'd be willing to reciprocate the efforts."

"Good things, happen to good people but why is she suffering?", Mingyu sighs, chugging the can of bear, "She says she's mad at me, but she bought me my favourite limited edition watch when I was still recovering from the ligament injury."

"Yeah same, she checks on me throughout the day and night whenever I am going through a rough patch.", Eunsoo adds, "Even asked me to come and stay with her to take my mind off", she looks at Wonwoo, "things."

"Yeah, we may not always talk like we did before but she still cares the same.", Seungkwan says, "It's her nature, she can't do anything about it."

"Something good should happen to her soon.", Jihoon implies as he twirls the can in his hands.

The night goes on with you spending time with your dearest ones and catching up with everyone.

"Thanks for coming everyone.", you say making a toast, "I haven't felt this good lately. Y'all made my day really special."

At some point it's a mess, you're chasing Mingyu, who's screaming for his life because he smashed a big chunk of cake on your face. Eunsoo is eating off Jihoon's ears because she wants to hear him play Violin. Wonwoo doesn't like it a bit but there's nothing he can do apart from glaring at Jihoon. Seungkwan and Chan are debating over something useless, everyone is sure that next they're gonna fight each other to impose their point. Your parents look at all of you with a fond smile on their faces.

It's an hour till midnight when everyone decides to leave for the hotel they've been staying in. Though your friends and brother offer you help but you send them all away knowing they're still tired from such long journey.

You clean up the place and check the time before jogging down to throw the Dustin bags. All you could think of was if Seungcheol had read your letter. Doesn't matter if not today, as long as he reads it, any day is fine.

It's chilly outside as the full moon shines brightly. You stand outside not entering the gate and close your eyes to feel the breeze. It's calming, you think.

When you open your eyes after staying out for good amount of time, you think you had drunk a little too much.

"I shouldn't have drunk so much, now I'm seeing you.", you shake your head, slap your cheeks and look ahead again, "Why are you still here? Just vanish.', then you turn back to go inside the house.

"Y/N..."

You halt and say, "Now I'm hearing things also, great."

Suddenly you're being back hugged, "You're not hallucinating.", that's when you freeze, realisation gnawing on you.

Seungcheol has really come, he's physically present.

"W-What are you doing here?", you asked in your choked voice.

"I think we should have this conversation inside, only if you'll allow me to.", Seungcheol says and loosens his grip.

"Y-Yeah sure.", you don't look back, at him and walk straight into the house with him following you.

As Seungcheol takes a seat, you kick away the balloons, "Sorry, it's a mess right now.", and you flee to the kitchen to bring some slices of cake, "Have them, it's your favourite flavour."

"Happy Birthday, Y/N", he wishes you, taking the plate and you smile at him fondly.

"Have you eaten dinner?", you ask him and he shakes his head, "Came here straight from the airport."

While he eats the cake, you serve him all the dishes saying, "You should have told me that you'd come. I would have waited and we could have had the dinner together."

Seungcheol looks at you, wordless. So do you, observe him, the black hair that falls on his forehead, thick eyebrows, his brown orbs, dimpled cheeks, the small nose and stubbled chin, all of it. There's a soothing silence and you don't wanna break it.

"Y/N, there's a reason to why I came today."

You are calm, willing to listen to anything he has to offer because nothing worse can happen than what has already happened.

"I am not well without you.", he gives a small smile not meeting your gaze, "People are saying I look like a ghost nowadays, you can see it as well.", there's a pause before he looks at you and continues, "Your friends and brother have been trying hard to speak some senses into my mind. And I received the box you left for me, last week."

"But you were supposed to receive it today", you say calmly, "If my friends and family are pestering you, I'm sorry. I'd tell them to stop."

Seungcheol chuckles, shaking his head. He grabs both of your hands, "The problem isn't about me being unwell without you. The problem lies with you being more heartbroken and pained without me. You have suffered enough, you shouldn't be suffering anymore."

His hands trail gently upto your face, "And I'm here today to solve that."

You habitually lean into his touch, "Don't say something that would break my heart again, on my birthday."

"I know even without trying or repenting if I ask you to take me back, you'd do it in a heartbeat.", tears prick at his eyes as he speaks, "And now that there're no more secrets, though it's selfish of me but I want us to be together again, to live and to love forever. I want to love you right, treat you like you deserve to be treated."

You break down in tears, hiding your face in your palms, sobbing as you say, "This feels unreal. What if I'm dreaming and you'd be gone when I wake up?"

Seungcheol sniffles as he hugs you tightly, "I'm here, love. I won't go anywhere, I promise."

You snuggle closer to him, he embraces you tighter.

There are few taps on your back and you pull back only to Seungcheol making you stand up. You eyes questions him as he pecks your forehead quickly and kneels on his left knee.

Your eyes go wide as saucers as you watch him unfasten his chain and take out the ring, which you recognise is yours. He holds the ring saying, "I want to spend all of my tomorrows with you because you taught me the real meaning of love. Would you please with cherries on top, marry me?"

Not trusting your voice and with a frantic nod of head, you extend your hand towards him, onto which Seungcheol slides in the ring. You put the other ring on his finger and pull him into a fervent kiss.

Before he could take you to the bed and have you, you're pushing him away, "You haven't eaten, dinner first."

Seungcheol groans, his lips finding it's way back on your neck as he whispers, "I wanna eat you out. You're my meal, you're my dessert to devour."

You give up knowing, he's not going to listen because he's stripping you down to nothing, kissing and sucking everywhere.

"I love you, love you so much.", he keeps on murmuring, "You're mine, only mine."

Carrying you inside, he slams the bedroom door shut. All you could remember is his name and the way he worked on your whole body diligently through the night, till the morning.

"I wanna meet Lee Jihoon.", Seungcheol says during lunch, because that's when you both finally left the bed after long long sessions of love making.

But he makes you sit on his lap, "Because along with the plane ticket that I found on my office table, he had sent a card with the instructions to give it to you."

He takes out the card from his coat which was hung on the chair and gives it to you.

'Here's your birthday gift, Y/N. Told ya, giving you Seungcheol would be much easier.'

You are grinning ear to ear, "Definitely, he seems snappy but is actually quite a nice guy."

Seungcheol gulps when he remembers the other note which contained nothing but the pure threat of kidnapping, smuggling and dumping him to your house if he doesn't come here voluntarily, "Y-Yeah sure, he must be a nice guy..."

The nation is in uproar because it was such a sight to see Choi Seungcheol carrying his ex-wife in bridal style, smooching her throughout, in front of the media, till they're seen out of the airport.

Another shock comes from the musical prodigy, Lee Jihoon who returns to his roots posing as a bodyguard to the couple.

The media doesn't get to rest when a month later, both the Choi's and Lee's publish articles about your wedding to Seungcheol along with some glamourous shots from the private wedding that took place with limited guests consisting mostly closed friends and family.

Some are confused, some are shocked but more or less everyone is curious. No matter how hard the paparazzi are trying they're unable to pull tabs on what actually happened. You both are the trending topic and though all tabloids are based on pure speculations, it also shows the upper hand The Choi's have on protecting their matters.

"I have the sent the data as an anonymous to the police.", Wonwoo informs, "I'm sure it'll be concrete enough to put Jiah behind the bars."

"Great.", Seungcheol smiles, "Keep on digging, make sure once she's in, she never gets out of the prison."

Wonwoo gives a nod and leaves.

"Are you sure he like Eunsoo back?", Seungcheol turns to ask you.

"You should notice how stone cold poker faced Wonwoo starts to show emotions whenever he sees Eunsoo with Jihoon. I have caught him stealing glances at our Soo as well.", you sigh, "I know it must be hard for him, but I wish he could just be honest with his feelings."

"I'll talk to him", Seungcheol assures and as if a switch flips he pouts saying, "Why'd you have to go? We just got married."

"I'll have to look over the academy until it's fully functional.", you tell him, "Jihoon can take over after that but till then I'll have keep going back and forth. But hey, I'll be here for a month before I go, let's utilize it to the fullest."

"Of course, baby. Don't worry I'll manage my schedule so that I can be there with you for most of the time.", he pecks your lips, "I'm so proud of you. I love you."

"Love you too, Cherry.", you smile looking at him.

"Let's plan for our honeymoon--"

"Cheol, I was thinking that...", your lips purse into a line, "instead of touring, can we spend some time alone without work, just the two of us, somewhere cozy. Only if you're okay with it, I know you're busy and to take time completely off--"

You're cut off by his lips on yours. He kisses you for a good amount of time and says, "If you want it then I'll manage. Anything for you baby."

You smile pushing him away, "You're down bad.", ypj tease, "I'll have to drop by the academy, Seungkwan is waiting."

"I'll take you.", Seungcheol gets up grabbing the car keys, "I'm sure everyone is there specially Jihoon, I'm a fan."

You roll your eyes, "Yeah everyone is saying so but he's a plain pain in ass to me. Let's take Wonwoo with us.", grabbing your clutch, "I'm planning to visit Wonseok, let's go together this weekend. Also, I've informed Ms. Oh that we'd be eating out tonight."

As Seungcheol drives, your mind reels back to everything that happened over the month. Your husband proposing to you, you coming back and accepting things with his parents as they offer their earnest apologies. Though Seungcheol is still not on talking terms with them and you're yet to entirely let go of what they've done, you think time will mend the relationships.

Getting married again but this time just out of pure love. Discussions about having family, bearing his children in future comes often and you don't miss the gleam in your husband's eyes when you both talk over it casually nowadays, him always assuring that he's ready whenever you're ready. Your friends now becoming more of Seungcheol's group as they pick each other's habit and throw unfiltered banter, Jihoon included.

If years of suffering have led you to witness these days then you're content because it's all worth it.

Even though Seungcheol is engaged in a conversation with the group, he sweeps a quick glance at you, smiling fondly and mouthing a 'I Love you' before diving back just to sulk at something Mingyu claimed.

You say those words right back to him in your heart, a thousand times more as you make a wish you have him as yours in all lifetimes.

To be fully seen by somebody and be loved anyhow is a human offering that can border on miraculous. Having withered for each other and falling back in love, lucky you both to be spending the rest of your lives together.

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

#withering for you #scoups #choi seungcheol #seungcheol #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol x reader #seventeen #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt au #seventeen au #seventeen fanfic #scoups x reader #scoups x y/n #scoups fluff #scoups angst #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol smut #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol fanfic #scoups scenarios #scoups imagines #seventeen angst #svt angst #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #svt imagines #seventeen smut #svt smut

[cambion-companion]

Baldur's Gate 3 Characters with Virgin Reader

18+ only obviously. Dirty headcanons under the cut. (these are all the "good" endings btw

Halsin would honestly be a little in awed shock when you tell him. He'd treat you tenderly, go slowly and save the more rough lovemaking once you're accustomed to his...girth.

There is a lot of emotional connection that goes into the intimate act and knowing its his partner's first time would mean a great deal to him, he takes the perceived responsibility seriously.

Yall would have to go slow though, to accomodate the guy's size. Has strength as his dump stat yet is built like a brick house.

He's all for the game of seduction, especially if he is still unsure of where he stands with you and your party.

When discovering you're a virgin he acts the part, flirting and using honeyed words to manipulate your heart.

However as the two of you grow closer his feelings also change and he feels anxious about knowing he has your utter consent before taking things further.

He knows what it feels like to be used and wants to avoid causing you the same hurt and feelings of doubt, because against all odds he has begun to care for you.

So much foreplay...SO much foreplay. And you can be in whatever position you want, it's all about your comfort when the time comes to be intimate.

yeah she'd tease you at first, all in good fun, but still she has to get those sharp words in somewhere.

Soon enough the teasing gives way to concerned questions, not probing too deep into your feelings, but enough to give her hints as to how comfortable you feel with her.

We all know Shadowheart is a slow burn romance, so expect a long buildup while your relationship blossoms.

Lots of sweet kisses and witty flirtations, respecting each other's space until the time feels right to take it to the next level.

perhaps it's after one of your many swimming lessons where you Shadowheart takes the reins and becomes the teacher of a different kind of lesson.

She'd be asking questions throughout, listening to your responses and making sure everything is perfect and you're not feeling rushed.

Oh she would be so sweet. You know how Karlach is usually quite boisterous and tends toward the goofy side.

She'd sober up right quick when you discuss something so personal with her and she'd be quite pleased you decided to share this with her.

She promises to take it easy on you, at least at first wink wink, and she has the idea to allow you full control to explore her body as much as you wish.

Feel her heart, or at least where her heart used to be, it blazes hotter under your touch.

She might pop the occasional sweet joke, but her eyes and her care is on you the whole time.

She will ask if now is okay, and make sure to gain your express verbal permission before touching your body herself.

She is gentle at first, as promised, but it becomes hard for her to contain her enthusiasm as your coupling progresses. Remind her if you deem it necessary.

Gale, he'd be surprised but I think pleased.

He would want you to feel comfortable with him, and thus would info dump about his Tressym and the many books he's read about magic and the weave.

It's all about words of affirmation and quality time with Gale, he wants to show you and tell you how much you truly mean to him and reaffirm it is you, not Mystra, with whom is explosive heart now lies.

When the night comes, because he does prefer the romance of a star filled sky, he would ask you if you wish to become one with him.

Maybe astral sex is too soon for the first night, but you can certainly accept when he no doubt extends that offer.

I think it's pretty much canon that she beats the shit out of you when yall have intimate time...that wouldn't change on account of your virginity.

You'd tell her you're a virgin and she might not even know what that means, I wouldn't be surprised. Either that or she truly does not understand why you think it's important to mention.

She would encourage you to take initiative and assume a more dominant role, prodding you (probably with a stick) if you got too shy.

Later on, in her storyline when she becomes more of an individual unto herself, she will understand the softer aspects of lovemaking.

Then she will be more willing to empathize with the feelings that must come with a first-time coupling, and act a little slower accordingly.

Still prepare yourself for the occasional impatient "tchuk".

are you kidding, he'd be the ultimate gentleman.

He'd definitely get you a picnic and take you somewhere that smells better than the party camp and that stew Gale attempted to make for supper.

I feel like he'd be more forward than Gale or Karlach, wanting to feel some semblance of peace that your body and your affection could offer.

He'd for sure be drawn to your inexperience, feeling a sense of protectiveness overcome him. (yes yes I understand this post is full of innuendo)

Might wax poetic about his many adventures but pull him in for another kiss and he'll quickly forget his train of thought.

yes, I made him wait in line, little shit

This cambion knows how to fuck, sit down and block me if you vehemently disagree.

He finds out you're a virgin, and interested in him? Game over.

He plays the long game in all his dealings, and won't be bothered if you choose to play hard to get....in fact he prefers it. Cat and mouse etc.

He's not gentle, nope, but when you're finally in his claws you hardly want him to be.

Doesn't have the bonus of Incubus spittle acting as an aphrodisiac but has had many bedmates and centuries to study how best to use another's body to pleasure his own.

Oh and bring you pleasure of course.

no

Go play DOS2

#withers #bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #raphael #wyll #karlach #astarion #x reader #gale #shadowheart #laezel #lae'zel #drabble #headcanons #x tav #astarion x reader #raphael x reader #halsin #halsin x tav #shadowheart x tav #withers x tav

[jqnehr]

꒰ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 : 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐳𝐚𝐲𝐧𝐞'𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐲-𝐚𝐭-𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐟𝐞… ꒱

word count: 950 contains: domestic fluff, crack, my shitty writing strikes AGAIN zayne x female!reader note: guess who's brainrotting again!! 🥰 I haven't posted for l&dps in a hot minute so uh here y'all go (those requests are still sitting in my drafts bro im so sorry 😔) masterlist

⟡ …is fairly uneventful. but it’s the kind of unexciting lull that’s peaceful, not boring. you get up in the morning, turn the ac on, lay out his work clothes and shoes and towel for his morning shower, before heading to get the coffee machine going. you don’t mind having to get up so early in the morning for him; making his bento lunch boxes full of food that would be bound to get him through the day. zayne treats you like a queen, his hefty paycheck leaving more than enough for him to arrive home with a little bag from some expensive jewellery shop, presenting you with either a lovely gemmed pendant, a dazzling pair of earrings or stylish bracelets. 

⟡ …is relaxing. when he leaves for the day, you having helped him into his coat and him bidding you goodbye with a long, loving kiss, you get to blast your favourite songs and get on with what housework that needs to be done. once the chores are completed, you can chill for the rest of the day—sometimes, you just settle for being a couch potato and binge your favourite dramas with an entire tub of ice cream, maybe do some baking (i.e., chocolate brownies or cake that zayne adores), or you head out to do some grocery shopping, treating yourself along the way. 

⟡ …is amusing for those around to see. from time to time, zayne is rather in a rush and forgets to pack his lunch box that sits on the bench, ready for him to take. this provides you a perfect excuse to visit him at the hospital, tapping on his office door at a certain time when you know he’s free—which is, of course, lunchtime. the idiot usually works through his lunch break. the scolding he receives upon your arrival always has him quickly turning off his computer and obeying your orders.

“you forgot your lunch box again this morni—” looking up, zayne sees you standing frozen in the doorway, his blue bento lunch box in your hands, staring at him with this expression of pure disappointment that immediately tells him what’s coming. resigning himself to his fate, zayne steels himself for a lecture in 3, 2, 1…

“how many times do i have to tell you to actually take a break when it’s break time?” slamming the lunch box down on his desk, zayne watches his wife plant a hand on her hip and jut a finger at him, then the bento box. “do i have to come down here everyday to monitor you like a fussing mother hen? i’m going to start calling you at twelve pm, on the dot, if you don’t get your act together, zayne!”

slipping his glasses off, he reigns in his annoyance and reaches for his bento box. he can smell the still-warm food within it, and his stomach instantly rumbles in hunger. eating meals made by you is always a highlight of his day. “no need, my dear. i’ll set a reminder—”

“rubbish! you said that last week when i barged in here, catching you spending more time with your damn computer and documents than you do me.” 

“love, you need to understand that i have a lot of work that needs doing—”

“of course i understand that! but whenever you skip your lunch breaks, you come home grumpier than usual, you grumble at me when i don’t do something right, and complain of a headache! it also sends your evol off kilter, putting you in danger! i hate to be that one nagging wife, but sometimes it’s like i’m taking care of a seven-year-old who refuses to eat his brussel sprouts, and then wonder why he’s not getting any taller.”

so zayne did as he was told and ate every morsel in that bento box under your strict, watchful eye. dr greyson ushers the other interns away from the office when he heard you two ‘arguing’, the young kids snickering to themselves at the sight of the unapproachable, frigid chief cardiac surgeon zayne hastily obeying his wife’s every order.

⟡ …is sometimes stressful. zayne occasionally has these vigilante tendencies, roaming around the alleyways way past his due hour home and wiping out all these wanderers without sending you a single text about it. it leaves you absolutely worried sick, and the beratings he receives immediately upon his arrival home are ten times worse than the ones he’s subjected to when he forgets his lunch box. 

⟡ …means there are ‘terms and conditions’ established. he makes the money, but you run the shop. your shared apartment is spacious and very modern, yes, but there’s still quite a lot of vacuum cleaning and window-washing to do. zayne respects that you’re the woman of the house, and never misunderstand that your marriage is a mutual effort. you both love each other very much, and you hardly ever fight (apart from petty arguments over who’s doing the dishes tonight). just because zayne works all day does not mean he doesn’t have to pull his weight around. 

⟡ …means his days off are spent sleeping in, making love, and spending what time you have together preciously. you’ll go out to eat or go for a walk along the beach. he’ll tell you about his week, you’ll comfort him over the patients he couldn’t save. it never helps that he always beats himself up over it. no matter how much you try to tell him it wasn’t his fault, that sometimes there’s only so much he can do, he’ll always feel responsible. zayne may seem like a cold, unfeeling man, but he’s likely the most empathetic, humane person you’ve ever met.

it's the RATE at which feminism leaves my body whenever this man shows up 🙏

I apologise for this, it was written on a whim when I am supposed to be studying for my history assignment due next week!! 🥰 oh well <3

and I'd just like to say this - if this has already been done before, then I can tell you right now that I did not know. I don't want to have another anon enter my inbox saying "erm actually this is really similar to [this person]'s post 🤓☝️" and basically accuse me of being a plagiariser. because I wrote this, as I said, on a whim while eating my avocado on toast after doing my dailies on l&dps, not after reading some other author's fic and going "hey im gonna write that", because bro ☠️ that's crazy. so if it is similar to someone else's, I apologise! I genuinely did not know (I can't stress that enough) 💛

#zayne love and deepspace #love and deepspace #zayne love and deepspace x reader #lads zayne #zayne x reader #love and deepspace zayne #zayne fluff #zayne x you #lads #zayne #I have 54839753925943 things I should be working on but instead im posting this #pray for me guys im about to wither away completely 🙏 #I also have a very bad headache anyways LOVE YALL!! #zayne love and deepspace headcanons #love and deepspace headcanons

[wheneclipsefalls]

Withered

Beautiful Adult Neteyam photo by the wonderful @cinetrix

Pairing: Alpha Neteyam x Beta Fem Omatikaya Reader

Synopsis: You and Neteyam have opposite lives. He thrives in the daylight of possibilities while you are forced to the shadows. You are sure that the right course of action would be letting the future Olo'eyktan go. Neteyam is less convinced.

Based on a request from my 🥔 anon

Warnings: aged up characters, aged up neteyam, angst, health problems, explicit smut, dirty talk, crying, miscommunication, p in v, virgin reader, first time, omegaverse, alpha/beta relationship dynamic, heat, sickness, 18+ only MDNI

Tanhi: star/little star I Yawne: beloved I Sevin: pretty I Mawey: calm

A/N: I can't tell you all enough how grateful I am for the hype and many comments that have been around this story just from that small sneak peek I posted. This ended up being a lot longer than I ever anticipated but I had a blast writing it. Please let me know what you think. I love hearing from y'all!

For many the sun is a symbol of warmth, peace, and solace. The bright rays enwrap Na’vi of all ages in the glow of Eywa’s love. The rise of morning light represents a new day, another chance for adventure and possibilities. When the illuminating glow of yellow sunshine transforms into streaks of vibrant purples and pinks, it indicates a time for families to come together and tuck in for the night. 

However, for you, your day truly begins at the first glow of bioluminescence. Eclipse is your time to explore the world.

You were born with an almost unheard of disease. It only took a few days of your infant body breaking out into abnormal rashes for Tsahik to realize something was wrong. Exposure of more than a few minutes to sunshine causes detrimental effects to your body. For this reason, you are forced to avoid the vibrant glow of the sun. 

From that moment on you have lived your life almost nocturnally. On lucky days the clouds protect you from the harmful UV rays. Rain has come to be your favorite weather as it allows you an escape from your hut. 

Despite these difficulties you have always strived to remain positive. You thank your parents for their gracious attitudes that inspire you to look for the silver lining in all situations. Sure you can not sunbathe or prowl the forest during sunny days but no one knows the forest at Eclipse as well as you do. Your knowledge has come in handy more than a few times, being asked to guide night hunts with some of the most notorious warriors in the clan.

This is where you met Neteyam.

The firstborn of the infamous Toruk Makto and your future Olo’eyktan, you originally assumed he would have no interest in interacting with you. You knew him from afar, hearing the word spread of his kindness and diligence when it came to helping those around him. His alpha status only served to bring a larger gaggle of girls practically falling at his feet. As a beta and suffering from a rare condition, you naturally took yourself out of the run up. You were confident he would choose some sweet and knowledgeable omega that would be the perfect tsahik. 

However, your assumptions quickly crumbled as he progressively paid attention to you more and more throughout these night hunts. Instead of joining the rest of the alpha warriors gathering to share a strong drink after a successful kill, he would opt to check in with you. You were shy at first, unsure of how to act around such an influential member of the clan. However, there was something about those golden orbs and soft smile that quickly set you at ease. 

You still remember the first time you had sustained a small injury during these hunts. It was nothing more than a shallow slash to your forearm, but Neteyam had insisted on carefully wrapping it himself. You gushed over him like an idiot, reminding him that it was unnecessary but  he showed his stubborn side that day. 

At first you thought it was your own overactive imagination noticing the frequency of night hunts he signed up for increase, but eventually it had become every single night. No matter how boned-tired he was from a day of full Olo’eyktan training, he would beam at the sight of your small form. His scent was something that seemed to constantly enrapture your senses. The heavy essence of pine and hormonal swings was so much stronger than yours. It took some getting used to. The first few nights you were bashful to come home and find evidence of your arousal dampening your loincloth. 

Still, you told yourself it was just a simple crush that you had to live with. It took weeks for you to even consider the possibility of Neteyam showing interest in you. He had been consistent in bringing you out of your shell, getting you to talk about everything from your family to the fondest hope and dreams in your heart. Oftentimes he would stay back behind after the hunt to help you join him sitting on an overarching thick branch (you were grateful for the darkness of eclipse that hid your blush each time he effortlessly hoisted you up with large hands gently holding your waist) and chat away into the night. 

It was only when the gifts began that you gave these interactions a second thought. It had started small with simple flowers and fruits he had encountered throughout the day. However, they slowly became more intricate. The first time he brought you a small woven bracelet of sparkling gems, you had been gobsmacked. 

“Like the night sky. The only thing appropriate for my tanhi.” He had said, making you almost choke on your own spit. Tahni- little star: a nickname he had coined for you after the first week. A fitting term for someone that only knew the night sky. Still, it was the first time he had ever called you his. The terminology was not lost on you. 

When the sun arose once more and you had retired back to your protected hut, those words had kept you up, your small fingers twiddling with the bracelet. 

Taking your acceptance of the small gift, Neteyam had become even more bold with his courting. Before you knew it he was bringing a meal with him for you before every hunt. You had tried to decline the thoughtful gesture but he would not take no for an answer. 

“Someone has to make sure you eat, tanhi.” 

There was no fighting the alpha on this, so you graciously took the meals each night. He smiled proudly as you moaned in satisfaction of the carefully seasoned meat he had killed and prepared for you. Another testament to the mighty warrior and beneficial mate he is. 

You started to think that the eldest Sully was simply a flirt, or perhaps such a kind person that his actions came off as romantic. However, there was one instance that finally tipped you to accepting his affections. It was a particularly successful hunt, dragging home a thanator, when he had slowed down to your pace. Talking about anything and everything under the night sky, your breath was practically stolen from your lungs when he reached out to tuck a strand of your dark hair behind your ear. 

However innocent the gesture was, it was the lingering of his hand running down your neck that caused your heart to bash against your rib cage violently. A simple brush that had left his scent to coalesce with yours. An essence that would keep other suitors away. Out of habit, you mentally went to play it off as a simple accident, but the crooked smirk plastered across his face did not allow you. There was a primal satisfaction seated in those golden orbs, one that caused a pool of arousal to gather in your core. 

He knew what he had done. 

Neteyam was proud of it. 

His affection was untethered from that point forward. Accidental brushes of fingers had turned into blatant hand holding. The alpha never missed an opportunity to press a warm hand to the small of your back, guiding you through the terrain, or wrap an arm around your waist in order to steady you when walking over uneven forest floor. 

“What kind of alpha would I be if I let you get hurt?” 

He had spoken in response to your inquiry, a cheeky grin plastered across his face.

Falling for Neteyam was easy. Too easy. It was keeping yourself back from jumping into his arms or melting into his embraces that was difficult. No matter how strange and suggestive his behavior had been, you didn’t want to get your hopes up. After all, there was no saying what he got up to during the day. For all you knew he could be taking omegas out every day and weaving sweet gifts for them too. 

So you had decided to do what was best for everyone and take yourself out of the situation before something embarrassing could happen. You declined the request to accompany the hunting party and instead went to spend some more time with your family. If your parents noticed the difference in your appearance they did not show it. They were always good at giving you space, respecting your independence as an adult (although your mother did go out of her way to place a comforting hand on your shoulder, a silent way to express her understanding and love). Neither of them knew about Neteyam at the time, it was easier that way. 

This fact only heightened their surprise when they saw Toruk Makto’s eldest son approaching their small gathering. You can still remember the intent gaze that Neteyam pierced you with. Your heart hammered out of your chest, hands fidgeting with the moss beneath you nervously. Neteyam signaled the traditional greeting to your parents before respectfully asking your father if he could borrow you for a moment. 

They were caught off guard, your dad turning back to send you a curious look, but naturally neither wanted to decline the Omatikaya prince. 

Once the two of you were finally alone, Neteyam immediately sprang into action. He grabbed your biceps and used that hold to turn you from side to side as he scanned your form. His intense inspection had blood rushing to your cheeks. 

“Neteyam, what are you doing? I thou-”

“Where are you injured?” You twitched when he reached a hand out to inspect your flicking tail too. Confusion swarmed within you. You had sputtered and struggled to put together a full sentence.

“It has been three days, Tanhi. I blew one day off as exhaustion or a fluke and the second as pure coincidence but surely only an injury would keep you away from the hunt for three days.” His eyes finally met yours again when there was no wound to be found. His tall frame had towered over yours as he reached out to cup your cheek. 

That familiar warmth and adoration you had for him had returned within an instant. 

You stepped back, successfully out of his grasp.

“I’m fine.” You replied simply. 

His tail swatted in the humid air and those golden orbs had squinted into slits. The focused attention of that look full of suspicion was enough to hold you down to your spot. You swallowed the lump in your throat and as you tried desperately to keep the fidgeting at bay. It was one of the few times you were grateful to be beta because surely an omega would shrivel under the pressure of his looming presence. 

“I don’t like when you lie to me, Tahni. Now tell me why I’ve had to go without my little star for three whole days.” Neteyam placed his hands sternly upon his hips, ears twitching forward as if preparing to take in your explanation. An explanation that you felt could not be shared. Doing so was bound to undermine your plans, completely destroying the efforts that had been made. 

“The group seems to be more than sufficient without my guidance.” You don’t dare to meet his eyes, your own orbs trained at the ground instead. In a moment’s notice his sculpted body was once again inches away from yours. His warmth came off of him in waves, along with the heady aura of alpha pheromones. 

You couldn’t hold back the shiver that ran down your spine when he placed heavy hands on your shoulders and bent over your frame till you could feel his calm breath against your ear. Neteyam’s tail wrapped around your thigh. A part of your brain told you to run, understanding the alluring danger that awaited you, while the other yearned to curl up against his impressive physique. 

You couldn’t understand how any omega managed to be around this male without completely dropping to their knees.

Suddenly you had some sympathy for the girls that had always fawned over him. 

“Tell me the truth, sevin.” The heated words tickled at your ears and made your heart skip a beat. It was foolish to think that there was any chance of lying to Neteyam, the mighty warrior that walked with the confidence of the supernatural. 

So you did.

You had scrambled to messily explain how it would be best if the two of you spent less time together. Unfortunately this unrehearsed synopsis included an approach that painted yourself as the foolish beta with a crush on the Omatikaya prince and therefore unable to handle herself around him. It was not the perspective you had hoped for, but it was the only one that could have been presented in your state of jumbled thought. 

Neteyam shook his head, an almost fond smile upon his lips. 

“Tanhi, you really do not like to make things easy for me.” A bitter laugh escaped his throat. The sound put you slightly on edge but there was no trace of anger in his expression. Amusement was easily perceivable in the raise of his hairless eyebrows. He had taken your humiliating and pathetic explanation in stride, in fact, he had found humor in it. 

“I thought I’ve made myself clear.” You were swooped into the encirclement of his arms in one quick motion. You squeaked and braced yourself against the warm muscles of his abdomen. “You are the mate I seek.” 

His words had thrown you into a spiral, your heartstrings plucking into rhythms of heightened emotion. It was almost too much to take in. A part of you still found security in denying these bold claims but there had been too much evidence at that point. Neteyam Sully had in fact been courting you. 

His head lowered, nuzzling at your face until you finally looked up at him. Your lips were only a breath apart. 

“If you’ll have me.” Neteyam whispered. 

There was no fighting the longings of your heart at that rate. That night you had agreed to his courting and within a month the two of you had been madly in love and preparing to officially mate. 

The process was faster, seemingly faster than anything else in your life. Night had always slowed you down from progressing in the normal rhythm of Na’vi milestones, but Neteyam had broken that pattern for you. 

You can still remember the vivid sensation of his tendrils connecting with your own. Those sparks of electricity that had created a direct line to his innermost feelings and thoughts. There was great solace to be found in the surging feelings of love and adoration he had for you, something you had been able to tap into. Still, nothing could ever compare with the way you felt for Neteyam. 

He’s your world. Your light. Your sun. 

Being with him feels like finally having a taste of those golden rays. You can see it in his smile. In the shake of his shoulders when his laughter trickles from soft lips. In the unashamed sparkle that overtakes his eyes in a coating whenever they land on you after a long day of training. 

Neteyam has become your world in only a matter of a few months. It is hard to imagine how you went so many years without this unbreakable connection between the two of you. Each night you wake up to the warm embrace of your mate who has come home from a long day of training. Soft kisses are placed along your eyelids, cheeks, and nose until your thick lashes flutter and you regain consciousness. 

The searing envious looks of other females can be felt at your back when the two of you join the rest of the clan for dinner each night, but it is only white noise in the presence of your handsome mate guiding you with a hand to the small of your back. In fact it becomes less than a passing memory when Neteyam goes on to share the events of the day in great detail, usually pulling out a tucked away gift he has found for you along the trails of his adventures. 

There is so much hidden beneath that emanating exterior of perfection that Neteyam upholds. He strips away those layers only for you, usually among the flowering meadow the two of you lay in while stargazing. The stories often end with your mate trailing off into a groggy murmur until the air fills with the sounds of his sleeping breaths. You prefer to stay tucked against him for a while longer, letting the moment last before you must wake him and shoo the mighty warrior back home for some much needed rest. 

While he sleeps you venture from the hut to forage and hunt, although Neteyam prefers to accompany you during dangerous hunts. You decide that what he doesn’t know can’t hurt him. He is known to be an overprotective alpha anyway. Once food has been secured and your adventures have come to a close, you slip back into the darkened hut before the first break of dawn. Those specially made thick curtains are the difference between life and death for you. 

Although the tent has been sufficient for years, Neteyam continues to add to its layers. He is constantly worrying about the vulnerabilities of the hut, convinced that one slip could bring catastrophic consequences to his mate. So he works with his father to constantly rebuild and strengthen the exterior walls. There are times where you remind him of how unnecessary these actions are but Neteyam is undeterred by these conversations. So you let your mate continue his projects. If it brings him peace of mind to obsess over the structure then it must be doing some good. 

Things are great for the first month. Nothing sexual occurs during those first few weeks of being newly mated, out of respect to you. There is no denying that Neteyam has had experience in the ways of pleasuring females but you on the other hand have never been close to intimate with someone else. As a couple you decide to take things slow. However, you can not help but admire the restraint Neteyam shows when you catch the shift of his pheromones into that of lust or see the tightness of his loincloth after a particularly long make out session. 

Were it any other alpha you are sure that the time would have come for him to become impatient and work towards persuading you to go further with him. However, Neteyam knows that you are shy and nervous. He puts your needs before his own and constantly assures you that he is happy to wait so long as you feel comfortable when the time is right. 

Your apprehension has slowly been melting away. The soft caresses that travel along your form sends a burning thrill that is exotic to you. Moments where you are brave enough to straddle his lap while kissing, the friction of his groin against your core is electric. These new feelings have been quickly festering and building inside of you. The nerves have slowly morphed into alluring curiosity. It has been becoming harder to hold back.

For this reason, you’ve decided to tell Neteyam tonight that you are ready. Finally, the bond created through tsaheylu will be strengthened and confirmed by the intertwining of each other’s bodies. 

The last hints of sunshine have disappeared behind the moon. This time you wake before Neteyam has a chance to come wake you up himself. The nerves that bundle into a coil in your stomach have kept you from sleeping in so you decide to seek him out yourself. It shouldn’t be long till he is back from an exhibition with Jake. 

The village is lively with reuniting families after a prosperous day of duties. It's a familiar sight that has always brought a warmth to your heart, especially that of small children running to their mothers or fathers with grabby hands. There are times where you imagine sending your own child to wobble excitedly towards Neteyam, spun through the air by the mighty warrior that you are lucky enough to call your mate. 

High in the trees, hidden by the walls of a family hut you hear the familiar voice of Lo’ak. A smile tugs at your lips, confident that Neteyam is sure to be with his brother. However, that excitement is dampened slightly when the responding voice is not your mate’s but Unip’s. 

“I just don’t know how long he thinks this can go on.” Unip sighs.

“Well you know how Neteyam is. He will find a way to succeed and if not, he will die trying.” Lo’ak snorts, but there is a hint of concern in his nonchalant tone. It’s a timber that makes you halt in your tracks and ears twitch to hear the conversation. 

“It’s only going to get worse, you know. Once he is Olo’eyktan, half a night’s rest will not be enough anymore. He already looks half dead.” 

There is a silence that follows, only filled by the sound of your own heart thumping. 

“You’re never going to convince him otherwise, bro.” Lo’ak responds, amused tone faltering greatly. 

Stepping forward, you curve yourself around a thick tree trunk in effort to discreetly get a better look at the pair. Lo’ak’s back is facing towards you but even from this low vantage point, the lines of his tense muscle are easy to spot. Your golden eyes have become specialized for seeing in the dark after all these years, allowing a better image of his form and mannerisms. You are used to reading people’s expressions and body language with only the dim glow of eclipse. 

“Stubborn skxawng.” Unip shakes his head before leaning against the sturdy trunk. His scowl is illuminated by the soft red glow of a patch of sprouting flowers. The sight makes your stomach twist. 

Have things truly gotten this bad?

“Neteyam won’t leave her. You and I both know that. All that can be done is make peace with it.” Lo’ak shrugs his shoulders.

“And watch him turn into an old man in a few years. Those bags are sure to be bad for his pretty boy appearance.” Unip quips back, causing both the males to break out into laughter. 

The tension visibly eases between them but you are not laughing. In fact, you can feel the beginning of those twisting nerves pushing bile up your throat. All joyful anticipation has washed from your features, replaced with dread and horror. 

Your feet drum against the forest floor, stuck on autopilot and effectively taking you home. The beginning of streaming tears threaten to drop past your eyes. 

It’s true that Neteyam has been tired but it isn’t till now that you reply back your interactions and his recent appearance. Those dark circles aren’t as prevalent in the light of eclipse, perhaps they are more telling in daylight. Neteyam has a way of falling asleep in a matter of seconds once hitting the mat but you have always assumed that to be a part of his nature. Some people are naturally deep sleepers. 

However, now, all of these signs appear in a different light for you. Each conversation is played back in your head but of course Neteyam has never let his weaknesses show, especially ones that could be brought on by you. You know this and yet it is only now that you scold yourself for not being more perceptive, for not seeking advice and perspective from those around him.

His family and friends have an advantage that you can not achieve. Surely they would be the first to notice his changes in demeanor and health. They are the ones watching him work, train, and interact more closely with clan members. You have never been more envious of those walking in the sun in your entire life. This condition has always been a hassle for you but now it has turned into true heartache. 

This weakness that Eywa has given you is no longer just affecting you but now your perfect mate. This disease has spread to him in a way you scold yourself for not anticipating. 

How is he supposed to become Olo’eyktan, protecting and guiding the People all while being tethered to you? 

Eywa has destined your life to be forever restricted to the shadows, but that is not Neteyam’s path. 

You can spot the familiar dark canvases of your hut in the trees up ahead. No doubt Neteyam has already returned home at this point, if not then he will soon. Less than an hour earlier you were ecstatic to see him but now the thought of seeing those tired eyes makes you want to curl up into a ball. 

Needing more time to process, you opt to take a different route, one that leads to a secluded waterfall. Safe in the greenery and now sitting in the shallow area of the glowing water, you take a moment to breathe. Water trickles into a soothing pattern that has been associated with your memories in this found sanctuary. 

Truly, none of this should be a surprise. This ailment has been the driving course of your life thus far and you’ve grown used to it, letting go of certain aspects that are not meant for you. Neteyam is just another one of those. He is beyond your reach. Keeping him here would only hurt the clan. They need a leader that can be with them, present both physically and mentally. For the greater good it is time to let him become that Olo’eyktan. 

Perhaps you would have accepted this fact and stuck to it earlier on were it not for the great love you hold for him. Neteyam Sully holds your heart and soul effortlessly in his hands. There will never be another that lights up your life the same way he does and truth be told, you don’t want there to be. Forever your first and only love. 

Regardless, the time for being selfish is over.

Some Na’vi have the honor of dying a warrior’s death, going down in the name of protecting the People. Others sacrifice their time and energy serving the clan daily in the name of Eywa. You have been kept back from either of these duties so it makes sense that giving up the future Olo’eyktan would be your contribution. 

After all, how are you supposed to serve as Tsahik with your limitations?

This makes sense. Your brian tells you this is the logical solution. Life will go on. You will return back to a life that you have come to be content with over the years and Neteyam will find a proper mate that can serve The People by his side. 

Still, it is impossible to ignore the cracks that are slowly developing in your heart. It is difficult to imagine a life without your true love. The thought alone has a sob crawling up your throat. This sound however is morphed into a strange shriek when a pair of muscular arms suddenly grasp and pull you back against a hard chest.

The water splashes around the two of you and you can feel the rumble of Neteyam’s laughter as you are awkwardly shifted in his arms. 

“Baby girl, you are really off your game today.” He teases fondly before nuzzling his face into the curve of your neck. An efficient shuffle has you more familiarly settled between the corded muscle of his toned thighs. Instinctually you lean back against him. 

“What? Nothing to say in your defense?” 

“Oh yeah uh just tired.” You lamely respond. 

“Silly Tanhi, today has barely begun.”

For you. 

The day has barely begun for you and only you. Every other Na’vi enjoy the blissful alignment of the sun and their ‘days’. You are the outlier. 

Gathering up your courage you finally lift yourself onto your knees and turn to face him. Neteyam grins, but for once you aren’t focused on the gleams of those pearly teeth. Sure enough there are dark circles in a crescent shape beneath his eyes. You reach out to thumb at those dark contrasts. The alpha blissfully misreads this as cupping his cheek. He leans into the touch and his smile broadens. 

“My sweet sevin.” He mumbles. Your stomach tightens back into that knot. Finally, he seems to notice the shift in your demeanor. The smile falters and he places his hand over the one cupping his cheek. The large veined hand completely covers yours. 

“What’s wrong?” 

It seems an impossible task to go through with what you know must be done. A part of you considers holding off, letting it last a little longer before you lose him forever. However, that would only result in a more sleep deprived Omatikaya Prince and the suffering of future Olo’eyktan. 

The longer you take to respond the faster the amusement in those golden orbs declines. He calls your name softly and turns his head to gently peck your palm. 

“I just-” You steady yourself. The words feel like acid crawling up your throat and sitting pressed against him only makes it burn more. Cautiously you detach yourself completely and settle down on the colorful rocks lining the shallow river. 

Neteyam immediately stiffens. His tail curls up into high alert and his ears twitch back slightly, but still you can see the now fake smile plastered on his face. 

“You’re…tired.” It’s a weak start but they are the only words you can force out. 

There is a flicker of surprise in his features but it melts away into a mocking eye roll. The corners of his lips are back to being turned up in a more genuine manner. 

“Well of course I’m a little tired Tanhi. Every mighty warrior should be if he’s done his job right.” The alpha chuckles and you can almost taste the deviation of his pheromones. He confidently reaches out to take your hand in his. “But never too tired to spend time with my sweet little star.” 

The cool rush of water is a dramatic contrast to the warm grasp Neteyam has on your hand. It feels like fire that curls up your veins and pushes tears to the back of your eyes. It’s too painful to be close like this. To see him obliviously flirt and cuddle as if all is well when you know deep down that this will be the last time you feel his touch. 

“No, I mean exhausted. Ma Neteyam-” You shut your mouth tight. That phrase was so easily in your arsenal of vocabulary but it’s time to start training yourself to stop using it. You brush the circles under his eyes again. “You haven’t been getting enough sleep.”

Realization seems to dawn for him.

“Oh you mean my eyes. Lo’ak was teasing me earlier about it. Didn’t think it would bother you so much, sevin, but I’m sure my grandmother has some herbs to lighten the color.” He laughs lightly.

“No, Neteyam. This is bad for you. Staying up every night only to push yourself to the limit the next day. Living in that darkened hut. Spending every last fiber of energy you have spending time with me. Taking care of me-”

“That is what mates do, Tanhi. I don’t want it any other way-”

“I am bad for you!”

The words cut through the air and suddenly every remnant of the playful atmosphere has disappeared. 

“Don’t say stuff like that, Tanhi.” His voice is firm, stern enough to be considered reprimanding. Neteyam eyes darken onto a duller glow. The musky scent of your mate shifts into that of a stronger presence. It’s moments like that that you remember how distinct his second gender is. 

“Neteyam, you know I’m right. This condition is no longer just hurting me but you too. Playing this game of back and forth makes no sense.” 

He sits up straight, back stiff as a rod. It takes everything in you to hold that gaze without bursting into tears and backing down. The flicker of his tail has turned into frantic swatting as his lips curl downwards. 

“What are you trying to say, love?”

You gulp and prepare yourself to utter words that weigh heavy in your heart. 

“We have to end this.” 

Silence drags on. The rush of running water and purring wildlife is the only thing that fills the air. Your tail swishes nervously in the water, causing a slight splash. No matter which way you squint or tilt your head, Neteyam’s expression is unreadable. Even your enhanced night vision is not enough to fully understand or anticipate the brewing emotions beneath those golden eyes. 

“No.”

Your mind sputters to a halt at the snipped response. He’s giving you nothing to work with. 

“Neteya-”

“Where is all of this coming from, yawne?” He reaches forward to cup your cheek but you stand up before he can. This close proximity is becoming too much. Perhaps it’s cowardly, but you need a reprieve from his love-filled gaze and tender touches. Otherwise, there is no way you will be able to do what needs to be done. You wonder if he knows this as you are met with a toned chest at eye level blocking your path. 

“Did something happen?”

“No.”

“Then why are you so worried all of a sudden?” He pleads for an answer but you have finally managed to slip past him and wade out of the water. The drum of your feet rings in your ears, taking you to Eywa knows where. Neteyam is hot on your heels. 

“It’s not just worry, it’s logic, Neteyam. Can’t you see? You are going to be Olo’eyktan. The People need a leader that won’t be tied to some nocturnal Na’vi that drains the last bit of energy you have left.”

The alpha goes to interject but the words are flying out of your mouth at such a speed at this rate, he has no opportunity. 

“They will need a Tsahik that can do more than just work a night shift. Not to mention one that actually understand healing protocal-”

“My grandmother has already offered to teach you.” He counters, stomping feet practically nipping at your heels. It’s not that you mean to walk away from him, but the dam that holds your suffocating emotions at bay is starting to crack and crumble. One look at him could weaken your resolve. This has to be done fast, ripped off like an adhesive bandage. 

“You deserve to be with someone that can lead The People with you. A mate that can serve both you and the clan in a way I never can. An omega that is a proper mate.”

A strong hand clamps around your bicep and spins you around. Neteyam glowers down at you with an intensity that is borderline desperate. The tears are starting to leave a glaze over your eyes, even as you avoid his own at any cost.

“You are my mate. You are the woman that I choose to spend the rest of my days with.” He tries to gently tilt your face towards him by grabbing your chin, but you flick it off. “We are mated before Eywa.” The crack in his voice tears at your heart. 

“I shouldn’t have let it go on this long, I’m sorry. I foolishly let myself believe that you and I are meant to be but now it is clear that my head was simply in the clouds.” A sob thickens your voice until it is barely tangible. Words are failing you and you idly wonder how many more you will truly be able to manage in this state. 

You attempt to flee from his embrace once more, just a moment to escape that heartbreaking stare that follows your every move. Neteyam holds you gently by the biceps but there is enough force there to keep you in place. 

“We are, Tahni. All these other obstacles are just that, obstacles. Things we can overcome.” He slumps down, determined to finally have your eyes meet his. The curtain of your flowing hair is a weak shield against these efforts. You can feel the heat of his escalating breath tickle at your cheeks. He swoops in closer slowly, with the caution of closing in on a skittish prey. “It’s just you and me, little star.”

The flat of his nose finally rests against yours, lips only a sudden movement away.

There are promises of familiar comfort and happiness in this intimate position. Your nature keens towards his gentle touch. It prompts you to hide away every other concern, worried that it could break this moment of tranquility. 

However, that is exactly what you do.

“You have to break it.” 

There is a pause, a moment of shock that you take advantage of. Slipping out his hold, you watch realization slink across his features. It’s blood chilling, the look of horror that is clearly evident upon his handsome face. It’s a rare thing to render Neteyam speechless. He has grown up learning how to lead and command a room with confidence and grace. Seeing him now, mouth agape as his thoughts lag, it’s easier to see that there is simply a normal man behind the mighty warrior. 

A male that you have managed to strip away the light in his eyes, all evidence of excitement lost. 

It is now that you can truly see the aching restlessness and lost nights of sleep in his demeanor. He wilts before you. 

“You don’t mean that.” He insists, voice now hollow of its usual domineering confidence. 

“I do.” The timber of your voice shivers and shakes, doing nothing to strengthen your resolve. Still, the lost look that Neteyam sends you absolutely wrenches at your heart. “It’s what’s best for everyone.”

Words that are meant to reassure him at least slightly only make his tail halt movement, obvious that the phrase only digs the dagger deeper into his chest. 

“Everyone?” He whispers, hairless eyebrows drawing together. Hesitant steps lead you backwards, eager to begin your journey away from this tornado of darkened emotions. Away from the raincloud you have created between the two of you. “You…this is what you want?”

Want.

That small word is a palpable distinction. To change this argument from what needs to be done to the inner workings of your desires and dreams. To veer it towards the ever flowing river of devotion and love you know will always be in your heart for him. It’s the one move that leaves you completely defenseless.

This is the last thing that you want. 

He has to know that. He must know that. And perhaps that is why he faces you with this question head on, forcing you to say the words out loud. It’s a towering wall that you have no hopes of climbing. Lying is not your strong suit. Neteyam knows that. 

“Please Neteyam.” You send your final plea before turning on your heel and bolting. Vanishing into the trees before he has a second to form one syllable.

Lying isn’t your strength, but hiding is something you are familiar with. 

“She’ll probably cool down.” Lo’ak reassures him, handing a leaf with larvae to Neteyam. 

“What did I do wrong?” Neteyam wonders out loud. It’s difficult for Lo’ak to tell whether or not that question is rhetorical. The eldest Sully’s eyes are focused on the horizon, he’s lost. Off somewhere else. 

“Nothing, bro! Not everything is that simple.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, Neteyam sees the wooden cup of strong drink pushed toward him but he declines. Drinking is the last thing he needs right now, although it is tempting. These past two days have been pure torture and sorrow. Washing every clouding thought away with the swig of fermented fruit would surely keep his mind off of you for a while, but it would never stop the permanent ache in his chest. 

Although Neteyam knows he must look awful because even his father encourages him to drink, despite the duties he is set to carry out the next day. Most nights he is advised to keep his wits about him, but Jake has let up since the event. 

“There has to be something I could’ve said. Perhaps something I can say now.” 

“Bro, you’ve already said more than enough. If your constant notes and begging haven’t got her to let you into the hut, I don’t think words are the problem here.” A grimace is etched into Lo’ak’s features but Neteyam turns away from the sight. He can’t handle the look of pity that his family seems to constantly be shooting him. 

He looks miserable. He is miserable. Every Na’vi with eyes can see that much. However, he doesn’t want sympathy. He needs solutions. A plan that will set things right again. Anything to bring his littler start back into his arms. 

“Ma Teyam,” Neteyiri gently coos, haunching forward to tuck on the tangled braids behind his ear. “Perhaps it is time to give her some space.” 

Usually his mother’s presence has the power to soothe away the worst of his worries, but today all he can do is sigh at her words. Sitting in problems has never been his strong suit. Neteyam is used to problem solving. Coming up with a strategy and executing it until the issue is nothing but a distant memory. He prays to Eywa that this too will become just that. Something that can be laughed at down the road.

However, sitting here now surrounded by people and never feeling more lonely, it’s hard to imagine ever laughing at such a thing. 

Neteyam continues to pick at the grass next to the untouched meal. The sun has been down for over an hour now. Dinner is wrapping up and there is still no sight of you…again. Every crunch of a leaf or flitter of voices has him turning to search for your small frame in the darkness. It’s an effort that leaves him empty handed every time but, no matter the frequency of failure he can’t stop himself from whipping his head around anyway. 

“You know, there was a time that I was upset with your father. Livid, actually. And yet here we are today.” Neytiri almost purrs, trying to comfort her son.

“Yeah and did he wait around and give you space?” The words come out harsher than intended but Neytiri doesn’t tell him off like usual. Instead her ears pin back and she runs a thumb across his cheek. Jake and Neytiri lock eyes from across the fire, a silent communication that has Jake clearing his throat. 

“I’m not sure if I’m the prime example in this scenario, kid.” A deep chuckle accentuates Jake’s words. He goes to close his mouth and leave it at that but his mate sends him one fierce look that lets him know he is far from done comforting their eldest. “I mean uh truth be told, I was an absolute knucklehead before I met your mother.”

“Still are.” She corrects him. 

Jake doesn’t try to fight against the claim, but he does nervously clasp the back of his neck, searching for the right words to say. 

“Tanhi still hasn’t eaten. Must go.” Neteyam abruptly calls, on his feet within a heartbeat. He gently cradles his untouched meal in the palm of his hand as he navigates his way out of the circle of his family. Neytiri sighs and Jake sends her an apologetic look as they watch their son slither off into the night once again. 

Even Tuk sends sad eyes in the direction of her older brother as he walks away. 

Upon reaching the dark curtains of your hut, Neteyam is unsure whether or not you still reside inside. There is no sign of light emanating inwards. For a moment he is convinced that you have slipped out during his absence, but then there is a ruffle of covers that his ears manage to pick up. Stalking forward carefully, he leans in to pick up on every sound possible. 

Even with his alpha hearing, there is little to no noise coming from the hut. Or at least no sound that is useful to him in any way. He wonders what you are up to within those darkened walls. His hindbrain urges him to go inside and find out for himself, cradle you in his arms till there are promises of never leaving again. However, he knows better than that. 

Neteyam waits to be invited in. 

“Tanhi?” The sound echoes through the night air, but no response comes. With a sigh he kneels down by the entrance, cautiously pushing the leaf underneath the thick rim of fabric.

“You missed dinner again.” Neteyam knows he shouldn’t expect a response at this point, but his tail still naturally droops to the floor when one doesn’t come. “I brought some for you.” 

He waits once more, but silence hangs heavy in the air. Neteyam’s ears twitch to focus in on the minute sounds again. The shallow breathing is confirmation enough of your presence. A part of him almost wishes that he is talking to a blank piece of fabric. If you had left then he could have at least spent that anxious energy scouring the forest for your slim frame. If you had left it would give him hope that you’ve hunted, eaten, gone on a walk. Anything that isn’t sitting in your hut. 

“Do me a favor, baby. Please eat something. Maybe you have been when I’m not breathing down your neck,” He gives a humorless laugh. “But…I just want to make sure you’re healthy. I’m starting to get worried.”

When the silence continues he doesn’t leave immediately. The weight of the stress and heartache is tangible. He can feel it in his bones. He can sense it when in the lag of his maneuvers and movements during flight in his training. Truth be told, Neteyam is sure that it’s visible to others, shining through in his trudging walk to and fro. 

Sitting here in the grass, the same place he had spent that first night you started icing him out, he can feel the weight of sleep pulling him downwards. The muscles of his body scream in protest at every movement. Physically his body is ready to give way, but his hindbrain weaves together signs of distress all night long. 

His instincts yearn to be close to you again, close to his mate who he shares a special connection with that nothing can replace. At times it is painful, that bond between the two of you. Neteyam remembers many days where that connection has been physically fortified by your time together, binding tighter with every brush of his fingers along your skin. However, he did not anticipate the effects of the opposite reaction. 

Going to sleep alone and cold, leaves a heavy weight on his chest. At times it feels almost suffocating. Sleeping outside of your hut doesn’t erase these pains, but it does dull them slightly. He wonders if you’ve ever stepped over him during his slumber. Actively trying to or not, his senses remain on high alert throughout the night. He can wake at the drop of a leaf, false hope that it may be your small form finally stepping past those heavy curtains. 

“Neteyam.” His head whips around at the voice, but it isn’t your honey timber that flits through his ears. Instead it comes from behind him, where Kiri stands with her hands woven together in front of her. 

“What’s wrong?” 

Not bothering to answer, she instead motions for him to follow her. He glances back at the entrance of your hut, but one look at Kiri’s down turned lips has him groggily shifting back onto his feet. She doesn’t speak till the two of them are out of ear shot. 

“Mom and Dad sent you?” Neteyam guesses, tail already drooping between his legs. It bothers him that his parents are rushing to bandage things up, treating him like a child. Advice is appreciated at the best of times, but this is his life. He is an adult, and has been for years now. The rift that has been fortified between you two is his problem to solve and therefore his choice on how to fix it. 

“No, just thought I would save you from making a fool of yourself.”  She continues to effortlessly lead him away from the hut. 

“I’m just dropping some food off.”

“I know.” There is no hint of mocking or disbelief in her tone. She simply grabs his hand gently and guides him back along the path home. Neteyam braces himself for a spew of advice but it never comes. Kiri to his surprise is silent, no hint of tension lingering between them. Still, he knows what message is being conveyed. No matter how much it hurts, he can’t continue to barricade your front door. 

It’s moments like these that Neteyam comes to truly admire how much his younger sister has grown up. She prances through the forest with a humble confidence. Each step taken with the certainty of belonging. Kiri no longer needs others to tell her who she is. Similarly she feels no need to press her opinions on her older brother. She waits patiently. As if she knows that he will come to her when the time is right.

It is a quality he looks upon with great fondness and gratitude. 

Life has thrown you more obstacles than you care to count. This condition has been a stumbling block your entire life, but you refuse to let it keep you from the finishing line. You consider yourself a persevering person, one that is not easily taken down. When things get difficult you have always been taught to gather your bearings and get to work. Some sacrifices are painful but meant to be left behind if they are keeping you from fulfilling a happy and purposeful life. 

So for the first few days, you try to get back into your normal routine. The first night was spent weaving baskets together through the blurred vision of your tears. The basket came out looking like it had been mauled by a Palulukan. Regardless you continued to attempt getting back into your old routine, however those were usually filled with night hunts, an activity you were terrified of seeing Neteyam at. So you declined. 

However, truth be told, it only takes twenty four hours to realize that this heartbreak is intruding upon everything you do. You open your eyes as sunset turns to Eclipse and the first thing that surfaces is the dread at needing to go to communal dinner. So, you push dinner off. Neteyam is persistent in bringing you a plate each night, usually saying a few apologies and begging once again for you to come out. 

Your lips are raw and sore from biting into them in order to keep sobs at bay every time he comes to visit. Those first few nights he spent laying outside your hut was an awful mixture of longing and agony. His potent essence was easily carried through the night wind, constantly bringing it to your senses. You had twisted in the thin blankets on your hammock to stop yourself from going out there and cuddling next to him. 

On the third night, he doesn’t stay. 

You expect to feel relieved when he silently sets the serving of food down and leaves.

And yet, there is a part of you that longs for the draw of his smooth voice, no matter how distraught and rough it has become over the past few days. A part of you seems to also intrinsically sense his presence, even in the midst of slumber. Now that he spends his nights away from your hut, the emotional turmoil has become too much to handle.  

Simple tasks pose as daunting accomplishments, ones that already feel like impending defeat. So, you slowly start losing those habits too. Your eyes run out of tears to shed so instead you spend more than a reasonable amount of time pondering on your life. You consider what it is that brought you to these circumstances, questioning whether or not you were the one to blame for this heartbreak. Perhaps, you were the one easily swayed into promises of fairy tales. 

Before you know it a whole week has passed and you haven’t stepped foot outside. Recognizing this fact makes you feel pathetic and helpless, something that you don’t take a liking to. So, with red rimmed eyes and a congested nose, you take up a new purpose. Wielding together weapons from the materials in your hut. 

Although they’re nothing to gawk at, the finished results are enough to convince yourself that you are contributing to the welfare of the clan. The steps are repetitive and allow your thoughts to wander while doing so. By the second week you have donated a fair amount to the hunting parties without having to leave your home, thanks to the kindness of your mother. 

Your parents drop in frequently, but it’s obvious that they too find these visits painful. It’s an emotional ball and chain to see you wither away into something different. Visits that used to be full of vibrant laughter and storytelling now consist mostly of their own updates and pleas for you to come outside. Each time you assure them that you will…soon. 

It’s not a lie, at least not to you. 

Despite the physical ache of your heart every time you think of Neteyam’s smiling face and the bond that is now nothing but dust between you, there is still hope in your heart. A hope that someday you will recover from these lovesick feelings and finally be able to look upon the Omatikaya prince as any other clan member would. Purpose will return to your everyday tasks and Neteyam will only reside in your mind as Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya. 

Still, you would be naive to ignore the weighted awareness of his presence that consumes you every time he comes to drop meals off. You can sense him before his footsteps are even audible. Occasionally, he will say a few encouraging words or promises of solution but some nights he simply places the food there and stares at it sadly before disappearing once more. Both instances strangle your heart in their grasp. 

You thought that his scent would lessen once the bond was broken, but you figure it is alpha status to thank for always sending his essence of fresh pine through your hut at each visit. In some ways it feels like the only full breaths you took. The woven walls still allow air in, but only breezes warped with his scent remind you of being outside. 

It’s on the two week mark that there is a shift in the miserable routine. No meal is brought to the entryway. Hours go by and Neteyam never comes by. You’ve been living off of those nightly meals and while one meal is not hardly enough to maintain a status of full health, its loss is even worse. At first, it appears that Neteyam has given up. He is tired of chasing after you and rightfully so you suppose. This is meant to be a step in the right direction, but you cry yourself to sleep that night. Apparently, your body had an extra storage of tears after all. 

However, when it happens again, your theories start to change. A small slice of fruit is left outside on a leaf by the curtains in place of a meal. It’s delicious with juice squirting along your tongue in a dramatic symphony of taste. It’s the type of experience that leaves one wanting for more. Initially you are disappointed when the small piece is gone, but you remember where this food comes from. It would only take a five minute walk to approach the communal fire and snatch some away for yourself. 

Only moments away from dipping outside that entry way for the first time in two weeks, you have another thought. 

Neteyam only put one piece.

Would it not have been easier to leave a whole fruit rather than take the time to cut and separate one morsel of it onto a leaf as an offering.

It wasn’t an offering, it was an enticement. 

You stay behind, trying to forget the sweet tang of the dessert. 

Sure enough the suspicion is correct when the next night one piece of wrapped chocolate is left outside with a note.

Found this during the raid this week. There’s a whole bag left sitting in my hut. Let me know if you want some more.

-Neteyam 

The chocolate is a tiny ball wrapped in a red textured material that is unfamiliar to Pandora. Chocolate is something you never knew of before Neteyam. However, now it has become one of your all time favorite delicacies, especially with the rarity of its availability. Neteyam took a great liking to showing you around the outpost and the stocked treasures they were stealing from the old Hell’s Gate post and the new trains they were constantly raiding. He would explain the random customs and stories of Sky People that he hears from his father while carefully unwrapping the delicious pieces for you. 

Some days you would even have him read some of the English text, whether from the wrappers or other books that are kept around the outpost for the human scientists to enjoy at their leisure. You never understand a word of what he says, but the sounds are fascinating to hear in Neteyam’s familiar timber. Although the Mother Tongue of the Sky Demons, you’ve always been fascinated by Neteyam’s ability to speak it. Something very distinctly attractive about his extra abilities. 

You sigh and thumb at the round ball of chocolate. It melts on your tongue, creating an explosion of sweet smooth sensations. Leave it to Neteyam to try and lure you out through your love of chocolate. That night you flatten out the wrapper, running your thumb over the English text that appears as nothing more than scribbles to you. It serves as a painful reminder of the golden memories the two of you have shared. 

It remains clamped in your fist the entire day.

Heavy eyelids blinking open slowly, you can still feel the strange texture of that wrapper between your fingers. Contrary to your lack of activity, your body feels sore. Every muscle seems to be wound the wrong way and the air in your hut feels moist and stuffy. Stretching out, your foot hits the food supplies basket you keep and knocks it over. You stumble to put the object away, or rather you try to before you realize that it’s empty.

The last of your supplies is gone. 

Regardless of your feelings and fears, you need to go outside today. It’s time to face the music. 

Your toes curl and feet flex before carefully shifting to stand. Pushing aside clusters of baskets and tools you finally breach the front entryway of your hut. Expecting the air to have cooled down by now, your skin prickles strangely at the feeling of heat against your back. You rush to throw off whatever blanket or item of clothing that must have stuck to you but then your eyes are blinded. Sheer light invades your vision, drenching every sight in white. 

Stumbling across the forest floor, it truly takes you more than a moment to understand what is happening. The harsh light, the foreign heat. This is sunlight.

A pure beam of sunlight that has not disappeared behind the moon yet. 

Your delayed reaction finally allows you to search for the entryway and try to scramble towards safety but it’s impossible to see with the brightness of the world turned up to one hundred. Your eyes can’t manage to stay open for more than a second, each time feeling a burning sensation that is unbearable. Soon, though, it seems to be too late as your limbs grow heavy and your skin heats uncomfortably. Even when that last ray of sunshine disappears, your body continues to torment you with a rising heat.

The sensations become too much. The weight of your own head drags you down. The world spins around you in disorienting directions. Only a glimpse of blue skin is caught before you collapse into someone’s arms and the world turns blissfully black again. 

“Move before I kick you out.” Mo’at warns, but her tone holds a morsel of sympathy despite the strict instruction. 

You are laid out along the mat of her healer’s tent with half the Sully family gathered around. Neteyam can hardly keep his hands off of you, constantly checking to see if you have cooled down yet. Each time renders him disappointed, ears folding back against his head. Mo’at is quickly losing patience as she is constantly swatting the boy away in order to apply the series of healing balms. 

“She’s burning up.” He protests, but finally moves out of her way. His idle hands find a new place along his knees where the blunt nails dig into his skin. Kiri and Tuk surround their brother but are careful to not impede too much on his space. His panicked dread rolls off of him in waves, a palpable tension that can be felt by everyone in the tent. 

“How long was she exposed?” 

“I don’t know. Can’t be more than a few minutes maybe. She was hardly past the entrance when I found her…I….is she going to be ok?” His voice cracks as tears finally well up over his golden orbs. Tuk places her small hand on his shoulder. 

“Only the Great Mother knows that.” She pauses, looking up to see her grandson’s crumbling composure. “She is hot. Her temperature needs to drop significantly.” 

The message doesn’t seem to settle on Neteyam. His gaze continues to focus on your unconscious face.

“Neteyam.” His head finally snaps up at his grandmother’s stern voice. “Go fetch me cold water from the river.” A basin is handed to the alpha but she can already tell there is reluctance in his expression. 

“Now.” It’s harsher than Mo’at would like to be but she knows that getting the concerned alpha outside of the tent is essential for her to complete the healing rituals. His presence is a distraction that has her own emotions tugging her away from the work at hand. 

Neteyam purses his lips and sends one last glance towards you. He cradles your cheek and leans down to softly press a kiss to your forehead, whispering promises to return. Then finally, he rushes out of the tent, driven by the given task. 

The hours rush and drag simultaneously for Neteyam. It becomes difficult to believe that it has already been a full twenty four hours and yet every minute that your eyes are not open feels like a year to him. Jake recruits Norm and some of the other scientists to take a look at you in the outpost. Moat is naturally displeased by the change at first but even she can’t deny that the old metal portable is a safer place for you to hide from the sun. Thick blankets and rugs are hung over the windows to keep the rays of sunshine out. 

Between the expertise of the scientists with their modern technology and the healing powers of Tsahik, things begin to look grim when there is little to no change in your state. Neteyam becomes increasingly more tense with every passing hour that yields no result. At some point his family stops trying to convince him to take breaks. Tuk takes it upon herself to gather and deliver a good serving from the communal fire for her older brother at every meal. 

Kiri is constantly teetering between helping her grandmother wrap cooling salves of thick leaves on your skin and foraging through the forest for different materials that could be used to create various healing ointments. 

Lo’ak tries to provide his brother with some pleasant company. If not that, then at least an annoying younger brother that can keep his mind off the matter for a few minutes. He tells jokes and shares random stories, usually featuring young alphas and the things their idiotic pride leads them to do. He has a plethora of these events saved up, having been training the new batch of future warriors almost daily. Those stories shift to other couples’ drama and fights when Neteyam laments over the past few weeks, assuring his brother that rough patches are normal in relationships and that perhaps he is not the worst skxawng to be found in the forest. 

Jake and Neytiri watch the scene with sorrowful eyes, discussing in the privacy of their home what needs to be done for their son and you. 

At hour thirty six, you begin to squirm. Every muscle seems to creek with each movement, seemingly as rusty and worn as the door to the outpost that takes an extra shove to open. It’s the burning heat that you notice next. It seems to travel along your veins and cover you in a suffocating cloud. It brings on feelings of almost claustrophobic symptoms. 

Finally, the flutter of your lashes reveal your golden eyes to the synthetic lighting of the outpost makeshift hospital wing. Only one electric light is turned on down the hallway. The rest of the ambience comes from lit candles scattering the surfaces around you. Their flicker is soft and soothing, but it’s the familiar scent of timber and pine that has your muscles finally relaxing. 

The surface beneath your head is cool to the touch, you rub your cheek against it. 

“Tanhi.”

That soft makeshift pillow is his thigh. Your already burning cheeks seem to reach new levels of inflamed rose color as you drowsily look up at him.

“You’re awake.” His voice is thick with emotion, almost choking the sounds from his throat. On its own volition your hand shakily reaches up to swipe away the tear traveling down his cheek. His skin is cool to the touch, such a different contrast to the usual warmth that you remember radiating off of him in your nights together. Your thin arm shakes from the strain of holding it upwards, he grabs your wrist gently and reluctantly helps you lower it back to your side. 

“Yes.” The sound comes out more hoarse and gravelly than you anticipated. You clear your throat before continuing. “How long have I been out?” 

“Over a day.”

A few moments of sunlight and suddenly a day and a half has been taken from you. It’s a lot to process, especially with the hazy pounding assaulting your head with every moment. The usual strength and energy in your body seems to have greatly dissipated, leaving you feeling as nothing but a shell of your normal self. Your attempt at sitting up is not only hindered by the strain of your abs but also cut short by Neteyam’s large hands gently pushing you back down. 

“No no Tanhi, just rest. Don’t strain yourself.” It’s too easy to settle your head back onto his welcoming lap. A small voice at the back of your head warns you of reversing all the progress that has been made, but it seems insignificant when Neteyam begins to tenderly brush his fingers through your hair. Nothing can take away the ache of your body and heat of your blood boiling but his touch does finally stir your heartbeat into a steady rhythm. It’s as if a weight is lifted off of you as your senses become filled with his essence. Every point of contact between you is like fire and ice. He is the ice that you welcome greatly, the only thing that seems to relieve the burning along your skin. 

“I’m sorry.” You whisper, eyes almost closed once more. 

“Whatever for, love?”

“I don’t mean to trouble you. I should’ve been more diligent, tracking the sun’s cycle..” Your lungs seize into a painful invisible grip, forcing a coughing fit to begin. Neteyam is quick to shush your sentence away and help you get some cool water down. His large hand rests over the heat of your forehead. The eldest Sully frowns down at you, no doubt still feeling the evidence of your raging fever. 

“Hush, Tanhi. There’s no place I would rather be right now.” 

You watch the shadows dance across lines of his collarbones and sharp features as he prepares another cool wrap to lay across your forehead. The grip you have on conscious thought is weak, but even at your mental peak you are sure that there is nothing more beautiful than the man above you. His harsh and sharp features that frame those kind and insightful eyes. He has an ethereal beauty that has always captured you. 

 “You’re going to be ok.” It’s unclear whether or not the sentiment is meant for you or rather himself. His hairless brows pinch into those familiar clenched lines. You recognize them from days he would come home to, the evidence of his still racing thoughts clearly etched into his features. 

Through the constant ache of your body and heat that tries to lure you to sleep, it takes you a moment to recognize the pheromones drifting off of him. You’re surprised to find that you can still identify the shift of emotions through his essence. Supposedly your sense of smell is better than you thought for a beta. The curling sadness and anxiety that comes off of him in waves, however, is something you wish could not be so easily detected. It is foreign and strange when mixed with his calming perfume. Neteyam isn’t usually one easily frazzled. 

Neteyam settles a clear plastic over your mouth and it takes a moment before you recognize it as the Avatar oxygen masks. The air filtered through it is clearer and more readily accepted by your lungs. After a few breaths you nod at him and he pulls it away again. 

Silence ensues. You yearn to break it with some semblance of an apology or explanation, but the words never come. Your body has other ideas as it drifts in and out of consciousness. Several times you wake to see another member of the Sully family perched next to Neteyam. However, the oldest Sully child never leaves. The hold you have on time becomes almost nonexistent as you slip back and forth between reality and fever induced dreams.

 Eventually you begin to wake periodically in Neteyam’s arms, head laying on his chest or coddled in his lap. Each time you consider saying something, knowing that he is no longer your mate. You have no claim on him and therefore no right to use him in this way, but his skin is cool and calms the sizzling heat upon your own. The very idea of creating distance between you two causes a spike of anxiety to take hold. 

It would be all too easy to blame this on your fever and the aid he provides, even in your state of watered down thought you know the truth. There is a yearning to be close to him again. To feel the gentle caresses that line your lips and cheeks as you sleep. To fall into a fantasy where the two of you never split, convincing yourself that today is simply a small sick day where your mate pampers you. The natural instincts of your beta nature furthermore aches for the calming presence of an alpha. Even the simple actions of his rising and falling chest that contains a steady heartbeat lulles your nature into a submissive calm. 

It is such a dramatic contrast to the empty abyss that has replaced your heart over the past few weeks. Falling into Neteyam feels natural, as expected as the waves that crash against the shore. It’s an ironic feeling to have considering the most inconvenient and problematic characteristics of your relationship. He was never meant to be yours. 

You chant those words in your head, willing them to echo true. 

This time, your eyes flutter lazily open to the feeling of his slim tail wrapping itself around your upper thigh. With creaky drowsiness you look up to find him fast asleep, lips parted softly with shallow breaths escaping soundlessly. Sprawled across him, head on his chest, this position resembles that of your usual sleeping position together. Or at least, what it used to be. Before the first cracks of dawn you would slip back into the tent and gently fall into his dozing embrace. It was not uncommon to find his tail slink around one of your limbs possessively all while never stirring from his unconscious state. 

Looking around the dingy outpost, it’s just the two of you. The plastic material of the mask around your neck feels uncomfortable around your heated skin. You find a matching one around Neteyam’s own throat. Although showing no signs of struggling breathing, you gently place it against his lips. When the clear oxygen filtered through his lips, Neteyam stirs.

You contemplate faking sleep when his ears twitch and eyes slowly open, but they immediately land on you. 

“Yawne.” Neteyam groans, voice thick with sleep. The deep rumble of his morning voice always makes your stomach do somersaults. “How are you feeling, Tanhi?” 

His ears pin back when you veer away from his efforts to cup your cheek. 

“A bit better.” Your arms tremble as they push against Neteyam pectorals to try and sit up properly. Despite his gentle protests, you finally manage to remain upright for the first time in days. The room spins around you. It’s only by the grace of Neteyam’s hands supporting your back that you remain sitting. “What time is it?” 

It feels like night but then again the heavy blankets over the outpost windows would show no indication of broad daylight if present. 

“Middle of the night.” 

“Then I should go.” Your feet are barely planted on the ground before Neteyam is pulling you back into his arms. 

“You don’t really think I’m going to let you out there in this condition, do you?” His chest rumbles with a stern timber, but his hold is tender and gentle. You are tempted to roll your eyes at the protective behavior, but you’re worried that doing so would put the room back into orbit again. 

“You need rest.” 

“I can rest at home.” 

“Like hell you will.” Neteyam scoffs, using another phrase he so commonly picks up from his father. You can practically feel the protective growl that yearns to climb up his throat, but a sigh comes out in its place. “You’re shaking, Tanhi. Let me take care of you.” 

His knuckles graze your cheek delicately, sending a cool shiver along your shoulders. 

“I don’t think that is a good idea.” 

Neteyam’s hand stills before dropping heavily to his lap. The heated breath coming from his lips tickles at the back of your neck. Were it not for your already trembling form you are sure that his presence alone would erupt goosebumps and shivers along your body. The pressing weight of silence is dizzying, tempting you to lay back down. You can practically hear the cogs in his head turning at a rapid pace. 

“Please just hear me out for a moment.”

Turning around to face him takes more effort than you would like to admit. Seeing those sad golden eyes without melting takes even more. 

“Five minutes is all I ask.” You hesitate, biting your bottom lip. “And if by the end of it you are sick of hearing from me then I promise I will leave you alone. My grandmother will take over caring for you and I will…respect your wishes.” His words are strangled, that suffocating dread pulling his features into a deep frown. 

“Ok.” 

The shimmer of hope is barely visible in his shining eyes but it still wrenches your heart. 

“My entire life has been about being Olo’eyktan. I’ve watched my father lead the people since I could barely walk and since then I have always known that someday that would be me. I wake up every day and the first thought that comes to mind is what needs to be done in order to become the mighty leader that everyone expects me to be. For a long time I’ve thought that my path was already decided by Eywa. Find an omega suitable of being tsahik, settle down with her, and lead till my son can take over. I was ok with that, I’d accepted my fate.” Neteyam shifts to his knees, fingernails digging slightly into his own thighs. Apprehension spoils his scent, creating a new mixture you are unfamiliar with. It’s then that you realize you’ve never seen Neteyam nervous before. 

“Then I met you.” 

Your eyes dart to the laminate floor. 

“I…I’m usually a lot better with words.” He chuckles nervously while rubbing the back of his neck. “It occurred to me recently that I’ve been negligent in our relationship. I never truly explained why I chose you. Why you are the person I can’t live without. Perhaps if I had we wouldn’t be in this situation now.” 

“Neteyam it’s not-”

“Please let me finish, Tanhi.” 

You nod softly, careful to not increase the already blooming headache pounding at your skull. 

“I’ve never met anyone like you.” A weak snort transforms into a cough raking up your throat. “I don’t mean because of ailment, yawne.” He clarifies and you suddenly feel embarrassed for assuming so quickly. Neteyam pauses his little speech to reach behind and once again carefully bring a cup of water to your parched lips. Gratefully, you let the cool substance slink down your throat to soothe the scratchy ache. 

Once he seems to be sure that another fit is not about to come on, Neteyam continues. 

“You have this unyielding spirit, determined to forage through any storm. Eywa herself puts you in the shadows and you conquer the terrain. The air around you hums with a quiet confidence that is…” He searches for the right word. “Intoxicating.” 

A laugh escapes your lips and yet you feel nothing resembling humor. Your hairless eyebrows scrunch in disbelief. Neteyam shows no acknowledgment of your reaction as he instead puts the mask back against your mouth. 

“I’ve been drawn to you since that first night hunt. Surely, that isn’t a secret.” He laughs into his own mask that is raised to his lips. If only he knew how oblivious you were to his intentions those first few weeks. “You’re fiercely determined and independent yet hold a gentle empathy and kindness for those around you that I could only ever hope to imitate. And stubborn too.” Neteyam chuckles with a shake of his head. “Fucking stubborn enough to tell a dumb alpha like me off, consequences be damned.” 

Your lungs can only manage a simple huffed laugh, but the corners of your lips are already turning upwards subconsciously. 

“When I’m around you,” His eyes pierce through you. “I can finally bear that weighted pressure of expectations on my chest. You make it light.” Neteyam leans forward and tucks a stray strand of hair behind your upturned ear. “My little star.” 

Your cheeks are damp and it is only then that you realize tears drops have been escaping your eyes. Neteyam thumbs them away with tender care. 

“I’ve grown accustomed to sacrificing whatever it takes to become Olo’eyktan. I’ve written my life off as not my own. I’ve given everything I can and could in order to fulfill this role. You are the only thing that I can not sacrifice. And maybe that is selfish of me, but I also know that without you I’m simply a shell of the man I am with you.” 

“I could never be Olo’eyktan without you by my side.” 

“But how am I supposed to be beside you when I can’t even step a foot into the sun without falling apart at the seams?” 

“You truly think that I haven’t thought about that, yawne?” Neteyam’s lips quirk into an amused smile. “I guess now would be a good time to tell you that Lo’ak and I have been building a black out healers tent.” You gape at him. “I wanted it to be a surprise. I suppose I should’ve known better than to think I could pull one over on you.” 

It’s foolish, you tell yourself. Another darkened tent doesn’t solve all of the problems. It doesn’t erase the strain this relationship would have on Neteyam or allow you to operate during the daytime hours, unless you are content to remain in the tent for all of your days. And yet, there is a sliver of hope growing in your bosom. 

“Nete, I don’t know what to say.” His braids swing over the intense eyes that focus on your every move. He’s tense, ready to jump in at the notice of resistance. “But, I can’t live my life in a dark tent.” 

“Of course not. I’m talking about a compromise. Lo’ak, he takes over in the mornings while you and I start the day in the midafternoons. Tsahik duties in the tent for a few hours and then the rest of the night spent together. Leading together. Hunting together.” The dopey grin that spreads upon his lips is fiercely adamant in capturing your heart once more. It takes everything in you to not reach out and pinch the mighty warrior’s cheek. A notion Neteyam is known to reprimand with a playful glare. 

“You make it sound so simple.” It’s too much to meet his gaze. You prefer the view of the worn down tiles as you take another calming breath from the mask. The pace of your heart is evermore increasing and part of you wonders if this conversation has the ability to make you faint. 

A hand beneath your chin gently prods you to look back up again. He whispers your name, soft but clear in the quiet outpost.

“We have a choice.”

The words weigh heavy in the air, drawing your ears to perk forward in anticipation. 

“I know that may sound like a lie to you. However, if there is anyone that understands their life being determined from birth, it’s you. You and I have been pushed and kept into our respective boxes, taught to dream of only the realistic paths ahead of us.”

You wish to say it’s untrue, but any other reality has been stripped away from you from your first breath and morphed into only that of fairy tales. 

“We get to choose whether or not we believe that. I’ve accepted my destiny, Tanhi, but I can not bring myself to see my journey walking besides anyone that’s not you. I’ve already chosen. You are what I will not sacrifice.” Neteyam’s calloused fingers weave into your hair, hands on the sides of your head. 

“It’s your turn, Tanhi. What do you choose?”

“Is that your definition of fumbling words?” Your chuckle is choked with tears. Neteyam’s short laughter joins your own, his lips already starting to spread into that smile you adore so much. 

The past few weeks have been a constant building of that fortress around your heart. You’ve tried to convince yourself over and over again that the two of you parting ways is for the best. These mantras have ripped your heart out and left you in a state of empty sadness, but they also have created a sturdy wall, one that is hard to crumble. Naturally, it is Neteyam that ever stands a chance at breaking through. Sweet Neteyam that knows you so thoroughly that he doesn’t require brute force to get through, he finds a hold from the inside, reading you like a book until there is nothing left for you to hide. 

This experience has been a draining uphill battle, but one that you have embarked on because you’ve been convinced that the right thing to do is often the hard thing. However, now, the story shifts. You are left wondering if perhaps this whole time, running away is not the hard thing at all. It’s staying that proves to be the most difficult battle to fight. It’s staying that requires your heart to be opened and at the mercy of failure and disappointment. Leaving Neteyam isn’t the noble cause you once thought it to be. 

It’s hiding. 

“You really have some nerve calling me stubborn.” You try to joke, but tears are already cascading down your cheeks at an alarming rate and you can tell Neteyam is seconds away from scooping you back into his lap. 

“Well I admit being stubborn has its reward sometimes.” He quirks an eyebrow at you. “Perhaps it’s paid off for me this time?” 

“Perhaps.” You smile coyly at him. It takes bracing a stabilizing hand against the floor to stop yourself from falling over when you lean forward but it’s worth the exhilarating feeling of his lips against yours once more. 

Neteyam is cautious and gentle, moving his lips softly in sync with yours, but you can feel the restraint it takes for him not to swallow you whole. However, you are still healing so Neteyam treats you the way you expect any alpha to: like a delicate flower. Your own tears wet the canvas of both of your cheeks and it takes a moment to realize that small droplets are falling from Neteyam’s eyes too.

The kiss is warm and tender. Relief washes through your body in a wave that makes you realize how much pain you truly were in. How even the very bones in your body finally lose their ache when Neteyam slips an arm around your back to bring you closer. 

You’re forced to break the kiss earlier than desired as Neteyam can feel the way your body lags to get air into its lungs. The soft pants that leave your lips are soon encased by the mask that the alpha slips over your mouth once more. The warmth of his gaze beaming down on you spreads across your chest and lights another fire along your skin. 

“Come home, Neteyam.” You whisper softly. His forehead leans against your own, those golden orbs still shimmering with unshed tears. 

“Always, Tanhi.” 

The hours float by in a happily dazed dream afterwards. Neteyam’s touch starved state comes fully into the light as he is constantly keeping a point of contact between you two. It’s obvious that his alpha hindbrain has gone off the wall after being apart for so long and furthermore trying to care for you without going too far. Now that the green light has been given, Neteyam is constantly wrapping his body around your own smaller form till you are almost completely encapsulated by him. 

Truthfully, you have no objections. In fact, even your own instincts push you towards readily accepting and initiating any forms of affectionate touch. It further helps that Neteyam’s skin is cool to the touch in comparison to your own raging feverish skin. 

Within half a day your wellbeing has greatly increased after the constant nurturing of your overprotective alpha, who seems to be constantly slipping water, food, medicine, or mask given air past your lips. Mo’at is greatly pleased when your temperature begins to return back to its former state and there is a greater strength present in your body. Still, she instructs you to lay low for another day as a precaution. 

Neteyam is more than happy to keep you to himself for another day. Watching you come close to the brink of death has his primal urges dialed to eleven. You have to scold him every now and then when his younger brother comes to visit and Neteyam thanks him with an aggressive hiss and tucking you safely into his arms and away from the ‘threat’. 

It’s borderline shocking to see his strong reactions considering the severed bond between the two of you. That is, until you find the truth.

“I admit, it might’ve been selfish Tanhi but I couldn’t bring myself to cut our tie before knowing that I had tried everything possible to get you back.”

He had looked up at you with a guilty composure but after everything the two of you had been through you couldn’t hide your relief and joy in finding out that this bond had still survived the heartache. It also provides a greater explanation to your own body's willingness to melt into him with or without a resolution. Now, though, you are content to let him have his fun babying you for one day more and revill in the renewed connection the two of you share.  

This time when you awake in the newly hung hammock inside of the outpost (Neteyam had used every angle possible to convince the human scientists to let him temporarily take up the space) you’re surprised to find your mate’s skin hot against your own. His thumping heartbeat rickets in your eardrums but instead of rocking you to sleep, the sound sends shivers down your spine. 

Neteyam is blissfully unaware of your consciousness as your own heart starts to speed up. Shifting your leg, it’s a surprise to feel a sticky texture lining the inside of your loincloth. Blood rushes to your cheeks when you realize the source of this substance. Bashfully you’re relieved to see Neteyam is still asleep, allowing your arousal to remain a private humiliation. 

With the cautiousness of a sneaking Palulukan, you attempt rolling off of the hammock and out of his arms to take care of your little problem. It’s only halfway rolling over to your side when the Omatikaya prince shifts and spoons you from behind. All plans are immediately thwarted when his muscular thigh slips between your splayed legs innocently. However, the pressure it incidentally puts against your clit brings forth feelings that are anything but innocent. 

A veiny forearm easily clamps around your waist to pull you back against his chest. The act rubs his thighs against your clothed folds so suddenly, that it brings a whimpered moan from your lips. Breath hitched in your throat, you wait to see if Neteyam stirs. He shows no sign of waking so you try to scoot your heated core away from his thigh slyly. 

Not only are these efforts unrewarded but also bring a tinge of sadness coursing through you. It’s a strange wave of emotion that follows. Arousal quickly windles into full blown desperation within a few heartbeats. The sensations are overpowering, racing through every surface of your body until all that your mind can focus on is the need to be filled by a mate. 

Filled by Neteyam.

“Oh Great Mother.” You curse quietly. 

Your first heat.

A momentous milestone that your parents have talked to you in great lengths about yet still brings nothing to light on the reality of the experience. You’ve had smaller mini episodes of heat, normal in the beginning of adulthood for Na’vi betas, but it’s only a laughable comparison to the clawing desire taking over your body currently. As a beta you figured that your own heats would be miniscule compared to the laborious heats that plague omegas earlier in their years. 

Involuntarily rocking your clothed core against Neteyam’s thigh you now wonder how these Na’vi have ever survived such a demanding lust and lived to tell the tale. And that is what it feels like. Death if not satisfied. Pain if not satiated. 

Embarrassment is thrown out the window in favor of creating a pleasurable friction against your clit. Hardly ever having experienced touching yourself on the rare occasion, you have no idea what to do. The corded muscle of his relaxed thigh feels better than your usual small fingerings drumming against the bundle of nerves, so you continue to rock back in a desperate rhythm. 

The hammock starts to sway softly with your jutting hips. Some movements are rewarded with a spark of pleasure, only to then be absent on the next rock of your hips. Frustration is quick to brew as you can’t seem to find the right angle and pressure against your core. Shiny slick drenches through the thin fabric and onto the alpha’s thigh. It acts as a lubricant for your journey across his skin, allowing a faster pace to be adopted. 

Your pussy clenches around open air, beckoning for a worthy mate to finally fill and claim you properly. It’s an emptiness that you can only compare to the tingling you have experienced after especially long makeout sessions with Neteyam, but it’s worse. So much worse that it brings tears to your eyes. The only relief is found when a lucky thrust finally has the fabric pushed away from your core and lets your small clit peek out and press against his azure skin. 

Now without any barriers, pure ecstasy wracks through your body. It only amplifies when the muscles flex slightly beneath you, giving just the right amount of pressure against your clit. A knot forms and tightens in your stomach, quickly winding until it feels as if it’s about to snap. It feels almost dirty to realize that your slick has now coated the entirety of Neteyam’s thigh all while he is sleeping and yet it lures you further into a state of arousal than you have ever been before. 

Your own thighs clench harshly around Neteyam’s to trap it against your core. A release clear on the horizon, every effort is put into maintaining that delicious sensation of your clit being assaulted against the muscle. Legs shaking and small squeaks erupting from your throat you chase that feeling relentlessly. 

“Cum, Tanhi.” 

Neteyam’s raspy voice pushes you over the edge with a shocked gasp. His rumbling growl of satisfaction seems to pulse through you in sync with the overwhelming sensations of an orgasm. 

“Good girl.” He praises as your body trembles in the afterglow of release. Neteyam chuckles when a simple flex of his thighs has a whimper spilling your lips. Swirling patterns are drawn by the alpha’s fingers along your sides and arms. 

Mental clarity returns in a flash, allowing the reality of the situation to sink in. You hide your heated face against his arm underneath your head while groaning in humiliation. 

“Nete.” You whine.

“Hush, baby girl. It’s alright, no reason to get all shy on me now.” He coos while swiping your hair away from your cheek to finally have an unobscured view of your blushing face. “Especially not when you make such pretty noises.” 

The words crumble any wall of resistance against the impending heat. Your body yearns for another release, still screaming at you for not being filled with your alpha’s cock yet. A cock that you can feel hardening beneath Neteyam’s loincloth and poking at your lower back. 

“Neteyam, it really hurts.” 

“I know, Tahini, I know.” He soothes, softly kissing your temple while brushing the strands of hair away. “My poor little star. A bit stronger than you expected, hm?” 

When his thigh finally shifts away from your leaking pussy, despite the strength of your clamped legs, a noise of disappointment escapes you. 

“So much worse. Neteyam please!” It’s hard to say what you are begging for specifically, but the alpha is quick to calm your worries with sweet nothings. Your limbs kick out and try to wind around any of his, subconsciously finding ways  to trap his body closer to yours. 

“If you want help, all you have to do is say, yawne. I know how to take care of my girl.” He turns you by the chin to make direct eye contact with him, a silent second measure to make sure this is truly what you desire. Hesitating is far from your mind as you nod and whine out little pleas.

Satisfied with your consent Neteyam grins and begins to descend down your body. Confusion swirls in your eyes when he situates your legs over his shoulders. The sex talk from your parents may not have been that descriptive but you know enough to realize that his cock is nowhere near your drenched entrance. 

“How does that…” You trail off, head tilted to the side. 

“Just need to get your ready first, Tanhi. Want my baby girl to feel good.” Pointed teeth poke out beneath his lips in his open mouth grin. The pads of his fingers tenderly brush and tease along your outer thighs, slowly making their way to your inner. Tingles of anticipation and pleasure trickle up your body. It boggles you how such a light tracing heightens your lust to new levels. 

“How?” 

His face softens and Neteyam coos at you while tucking a strand behind your ear. 

“Just trust me, little star. I promise you’ll like it.” 

So you do, even when his face lowers to your partly clothed mound. Neteyam’s nose presses against your pussy and he sucks in air like a man on the brink of drowning. Your cheeks set aflame at having his face so close to your special place, something you had never considered before. The rumble of power in his hungry growl, however, washes away any insecurity that would plague your mind. 

“Smell so delicious, Tanhi.” He purrs.

Neteyam’s creates a path of wet kisses along your inner thighs. Careful grips on your knees allow him to maneuver your legs into whatever profane position he desires, easy access for his eager tongue and lips. His saliva and your slick become intermixed along the expanse of skin as he takes his time warming you up. Each time his lips come closer to your folds, you whimper needily. Heated lust entraps every thought you have, wondering how long it will be until the two of you finally become one. 

The first nips at your left inner thigh causes you to jump. His eyes look back up at you as the pointed tips of those canines teasingly scrape against your soft skin. 

“Just a little taste, yawne?” He asks, although the smirk along his lips suggests that it is less of a question and rather a warning. 

“A bite? T-there?” 

Neteyam chuckles at your clueless behavior. It’s been known among Na’vi to leave obvious hickeys and bites along one’s mate’s skin, but you’ve always assumed that to only be in places more visible and less…private. Your tail swishes anxiously as you think of those marks being so close to your heated entrance. 

“Yes, baby girl. A little mark to remember me by, hm?” 

A simple nod of your head is all the permission required for Neteyam to continue. He takes one last breath from the hanging mask before picking a spot on your inner thigh where the flesh is supple and tender, licking and kissing and the area in preparation. When his lips close around the plush skin and begin to suck, it sends tendrils of electricity straight to your core. Without even thinking you moan and grab at his hair. You’re stuck between the urge to push his head away and encourage him to suck harder. 

Once released, the skin is left with a pronounced purple mark. One lick is deposited on the spot before his teeth nip and tug at the skin. You squeal and arch your back dramatically, Neteyam moans darkly he has let it fall from between his teeth and begin to soothe the skin with kisses and licks. The entire act scratches a part of your brain that is primal, satisfied by the apparent claim he leaves for all to see. 

“Much better.” His tone drips with pride. “Thank you, Tanhi.” He kisses your knee in gratitude, as if you have given him some sacred gift, and perhaps for him that is true. 

It’s only now that it occurs to you how many times Neteyam has held back from staking his claim on you the way most alphas do. You vaguely remember the indented mark of his own teeth against his bottom lip that would draw blood, especially after you have shared an intimate moment or he saw another male eyeing you for too long. What you had originally shrugged off as a habit now transforms in your mind as an act of self control. 

Neteyam is quick but deliberate with his handy work of undoing the ties around your tail and hips. He slides the fabric away from your pelvis with an attitude of reverence. Cool air against your slick folds feels like a tickling touch that has your lust spiking dramatically. Burning eyes on your most sensitive area is like gasoline to the flames. 

You attempt to clench your thighs together to protect your dignity, but Neteyam hoists them apart and back on his shoulders sternly. 

“None of that, baby girl. Let me see how pretty you are.” 

And there’s something in that phrase and his undivided attention that makes your toes curl. It becomes blatantly obvious that if he doesn’t hurry up and get on with sticking his cock inside your pussy, you will fall apart at the seams before there is even a chance. 

“Neteyam, I’m ready. Please please I’m so ready.” You ramble, willing your legs apart to prepare easier access. Once he is inside everything will be better, although the thought of your virgin walls stretching around him causes a slight tinge of panic to break loose.

“Mawey, my love. It’s about to get good.” 

However, frustration and confusion bubble to the surface again when you see his face lowering back down. 

“No no, Nete. Enough kisses.” You whine. “I need you inside.”  

His brows push up at that, the corners of his lips perking slightly as if hesitant to fully grin.

“Are you sure, my love? We can still wait if you wa-”

“NO! No more waiting! I’m ready now. I need you right now.” 

He calls your name softly, but with a hint of unyielding sternness that lets you know it is important you listen. Even a beta can sense when the time to obey is present.

“You’re heat is a very powerful thing but also fleeting, Tanhi. I don’t want you to make such a big decision purely because of your primal instincts.” It’s a respectful and considerate gesture but your head is shaking before he is even close to finishing. If this man does not take you now, you’re ready to flip him over and sit on his member, inexperience be damned. 

“It’s not. I’ve been ready for weeks. W-was just waiting to tell you. Take me now, stick it in now.” The ringing in your ears, you realize is actually the accelerated blood thumping along the eardrums from your racing heart. It feels as if the speed will be enough to burst your ribcage open. “I’m ready.”

Neteyam watches as your eyes clench shut and hands scrape against the woven material of the hammock. You’re braced and ready for the pain that will ensue upon penetration. 

“Tahni,” Your eyes slowly peek open to see that the alpha hasn’t moved a muscle. “You love me, don’t you?” 

The question throws you off guard, but the answer comes easily.

“Of course.” 

“And you know that I love you?” 

“Yes Neteyam.” Your hips scoot against the fabric, pussy fluttering as it continues to wait for the incoming sensation. 

“And you trust me?” 

“Always, Nete.” 

The alpha hums happily at your response, muttering out a deep ‘good girl’. 

“Then I need you to trust that I know what I’m doing, baby girl. Trust that your alpha will take care of you.” He tenderly brushes his fingers over your soft stomach. “And trust me enough to say if or when something doesn’t feel good.” 

You nod hazily, keenly aware of the tickling sensation of his touch along your hips. 

“That’s my good girl. Now let me get you ready.”

It’s still confusing when you see his head lower towards your navel once more, but you don’t protest this time. He’s right, you do trust him and he does have far more experience with sex than you by far. Your upturned legs are spread even wider by his broad shoulders as he leans closer and lets the tips of his tongue drag over you from belly button to navel. The saliva line goes down further and further until…oh.

It takes his grip on your hips to keep them pressed against the hammock when his tongue brushes over your clit for the first time. It’s a pleasure that is completely foreign to you. Comparable to the spark of dopamine that comes from your small finger teasing the area and yet completely different in intensity. He draws sensual figure eights along the bundle of nerves several times before swooping down to collect more of your arousal between your folds. 

Neteyam is calculated with his exploring, performing in the way of someone who has crafted their art. When his tongue just barely swipes across your entrance your hands fly down to grasp his braids again. This time, however, the only thought on your mind is keeping him down there. His flat nose nudges at your clit with every swipe of his tongue along your pussy. 

“Oh my Eywa!” You screech as that knot is quickly being tied again in your stomach. 

Neteyam on the other hand becomes focused on another knot, tugging at the twine holding your top in place while still working on your pussy with zealous excitement. With your aid, the dangling top is released and falls to the side. His assault on your pussy pauses for him to trail upwards and lick along your quickly hardening peaks. 

“So pretty, Tanhi.” He murmurs against your right nipple before taking it into his mouth and sucking. Meanwhile his fingers have taken the place of his tongue and expertly rub your clit. “My pretty little star.” 

Gleeful pride twinkles in his eyes as he looks up at you, a string of saliva connecting his lips to your chest. Your small hands grapple at any part of him you can reach, finding purchase on his flexed bicep that holds himself over you. 

The connecting lines of your thoughts are tangled into a ball of messy hunger and desperation. Never in your wildest dreams would you have imagined such strange things to be so exhilarating. A part of you wonders what else was not included in that sex talk. 

His head is found back between your legs again once your nipples are red and pointed proudly. Neteyam licks, nips and sucks at your pussy like a starved man. Every moan of pleasure releases vibrations that sky rockets through you. It becomes too much to handle. You’ve never felt more fragile in your entire life than when his eyes connect with yours, one eye winking at you, and you fall apart. 

Neteyam’s moan while licking up the white substance pouring from you goes completely unnoticed as the world around you spins and your ears ring. The gravity of this orgasm shakes you to the bones, floodgates of pleasure completely open in your brain. 

Although it feels as if Pandora has slipped out from beneath you, the recovery from this release is swift. Your skin prickles with goosebumps and your pussy hungrily clenches around open air once more. It seems that the monster of a heat inside you grows more insatiable with every second. So when Neteyam covers one finger in the remnants of your juices and starts to prod at your entrance, you’re relieved. 

“You’re doing so good, baby girl. This may feel strange at first, but let me know if it hurts too much.” It’s hard to focus on anything else besides the shiny slick that still coats his chin as he looks at you, but you manage a nod.

It does feel strange at first, your walls incredibly tight. Getting down to the first knuckle is easy but going towards the second proves to feel a little more strained. Regardless, you are happy to find that getting one finger inside is nothing near as painful as expected. Neteyam wiggles the digit and it makes you twitch. Such a strange sensation to be filled but, the longer he twists and curls his finger, the more you find yourself enjoying it. 

“How does that feel, yawne?”

“F-fine…a little strange.” 

Neteyam chuckles.

“I know. My girl’s pretty pussy is so tight.” It’s the pride and adoration in his voice that melts you from the inside out. The muscles of your cunt relax against him as he starts to slide another finger in. 

This stretch takes a little more time, effort, and praise from your alpha but otherwise it’s smooth sailing. He scissors and stretches your walls with due diligence, even as the dark pupils of his eyes overtake the gold color. By the third finger, you’re clawing at his braced forearm and begging for his cock. Neteyam doesn’t immediately give in, reminding you of the importance of being stretched out for him. Frustrated by his noble intentions, you aren’t beyond playing dirty. 

“Alpha please! Need your cock so bad, it hurts. Feel so empty.” The begging turns into sweet tones of whimpers. You can see the shift of his muscles as they tense. His pheromones take on a stronger hue, one that surrounds you like a cloud. Your small hand reaches down for him, fingers grasping in open air. Neteyam is quick to use the hand not half way up your pussy to hold your own, looking up at you. “You said you’d take care of me, alpha.” 

Perhaps in a situation not distorted by desperate lust and the sweet scent of your erotic perfume Neteyam would be tempted to put you over his knees for trying to manipulate him, but the clenching of your velvet walls around his fingers is enough to keep him focused on being balls deep inside of you instead. You can see the moment that his resolve crumbles to ashes, it’s accentuated by a deep growl and narrowed eyes. 

You watch with hungry eyes as Neteyam hastily claws at the strings of his loincloth. It’s a wonder that it doesn’t rip underneath his harsh fingers but it finally falls away and your pupils dilate at the sight. His length stands heavily against his stomach, curving slightly under its own weight. Saliva gathers in your mouth as you observe the freckled stars that glow under the dim light of the room and scatter over his shaft till reaching the tip. A bead of precum is settled there and for the first time, you understand the desire to put your mouth in such sinful places. 

Neteyam preens under your awed attention, his hindbrain purring in delight at seeing his little mate impressed with what he has to offer. His grin widens when he notices your hand hesitantly reaching towards it. You stop, however, before getting to touch. 

“It’s ok, Tanhi. You can touch.” The three fingers leave your entrance with a squelching sound. Neteyam confidently keeps eye contact while licking the digits clean with a soft purr, then that large hand is wrapping around your own and leading you towards his twitching member. 

Even with Neteyam’s guidance, you’re unable to wrap the entirety of his width in your grip, but he doesn’t appear to be bothered by it. In fact, a devious spark lights in his smile as he watches you struggle to hold it. Although, you will probably never admit it outside of heat, you too enjoy the dramatic size difference between the two of you. On more than one occasion you have let your arousal ruin your loincloth just from having his large body completely wrapped around your own, tucking you away so easily. 

A small gasp leaves your throat when his cock twitches in your hand. Neteyam can’t keep his cooing laughter in as he pets affectionately at your hair. He pauses to take a breath from the mask while still smirking. 

“You see what you do to me, baby girl?” 

The taste of iron erupts in your mouth and it is only then that you realize you’ve been crushing your bottom lips between sharp teeth. 

“Is it…uncomfortable?” It feels silly to be so bashful after having his lips along your pussy moments earlier, but you can’t help but keep your voice down to a whisper. You thank the Great Mother for the privacy that the scientists have allowed the two of you over the past few days. There would be no recovery for your dignity if they were to walk in on this scene. Heat or not, being whiny and oblivious is embarrassing. 

“Hm, sometimes my love. If relief is not given.” He guides your thumb to run over the head. “Mostly it gets my thoughts traveling to tempting places. Imagining all the different ways I can have you laid out for me.” The weight of your eyelids seem to increase with every word he speaks. His other hand running up and down your inner thigh only adds to the lust filled daze that has captured you. 

“Wondering what you would taste like.” Being the cheeky alpha that he is, Neteyam doesn’t let the opportunity pass by without reaching a few digits down to his soaked thigh and swirling the substance between his fingers. He simultaneously continues to help you jerk his thick member slowly while sticking the dripping fingers into his mouth profanely. 

“My imagination, however, doesn’t do it justice.” He hums with delight, his pink tongue swiping over his bottom lip to collect any escaping juices. “My thoughts are merely a facade in comparison to the real thing. They can’t do you justice.”

You subconsciously tighten your grip around him at the words, causing a low groan to rumble from his chest. Another trickle of slick coats your entrance. You’re in absolute awe at your body's ability to get close to cumming just from the dark noises and words that spill from your mate’s lips. Not to mention the twitching weight of his cock restrained in your hand. 

“Then stop imagining and come here.” You leap forward and capture his lips with your own. Neteyam’s hum of surprise morphs into a viscous growl as your tongues fight for dominance. The little gasps and groans that slip into the kiss as you pump his cock is electrifying. It’s borderline addicting to see that way the mighty Omatikaya Prince bucks his hips for you. A sense of power to know that you can get him melting like this. 

Never breaking the kiss, Neteyam shuffles your body forward and the two of you start to guide his cock towards your fluttering pussy. All forms of trepidation are gone. Your body screams from every pore that you can take it. You trust these instincts as the thick head of his member prods at your entrance. 

Your lips part against his mouth in a gasp when the head slips past your entrance. Slick walls stretch in ways that you couldn’t have imagined and it feels as if you are about to be split in half. Neteyam continues to kiss and nip at your lips gleefully while carefully continuing to guide himself in inch by inch. 

“You’re being such a good girl for me.” He coos as your eyes scrunch shut tightly. It feels as if the length will never stop, as if he is about to reach your chest from the inside, but Neteyam is patient. He takes his sweet time checking up on you with every inch and soaking his tone and words with constant praises. It does this trick, scratching at that primal desire to please your alpha. 

When his balls finally meet the curve of your ass, little whimpers rain from you consistently. 

“N-nete, so b-big.” You cry, forehead touching his own as you struggle to take in ragged breaths. He forces you to take a breath from the mask hanging from his neck. 

“I know, baby. So perfect and tight around me.” His own voice shakes slightly. “God damn!” The english phrase sounds like gibberish to your ears but you understand the sentiment nonetheless. 

Settled there to let you adjust, your head lolls to his shoulder.  When his cock twitches, you clamp your teeth down on his exposed shoulder to stabilize yourself. Neteyam encourages the oral fixation through  hissed words of praise. Tears spill from your eyes but it’s hard to say what the source of your crying is. The stretch is uncomfortable but you can’t deny the certain tinge of pleasure that courses through you when a slight shift reminds you of how full your pussy is. Eventually, your heat takes the edge off, rewarding your ability to secure a mate with a pulsing clit and dripping entrance. 

It takes a moment to realize that Neteyam is calling your name, you eventually snap out of it when his lips murmur it straight into your flicking ears. 

“Hand me your kuru, baby.” Your hands obey on their own accord. “Want you to understand how good you feel, Tanhi. How happy you make me.”

When those dancing tendrils wrap securely around one another, your eyes go from sleepy slits to dilated pupils of awe. It never becomes old being able to feel Neteyam so closely. To feel his breath and strength. To have his own emotions coalesce with yours. A vulnerable certainty of how he is feeling. In this state, neither of you can hide. There is no deceit. There are no polite formalities. You both have direct access to the other’s soul.

This time, a new current of sensation travels through the bond. It sparks into growing forms of ecstasy that makes you groan. It’s a strange thing to accept, but you can feel your own tights walls secured around him. Hugging him so tightly in the warmth of your cunt, velvety texture caressing him with every shift. Underneath that pleasure also grows an unyielding lust that pricks at his self control with every passing second. His hindbrain is screaming at him to move. To claim. To fill your womb with his seed until it drips out from you. 

It’s better than if the words had come from his own lips. It sets you into a feral need to complete these fantasies. 

“Can you feel me, baby girl?” His arms are securely wrapped around your middle to keep you tight against him. 

“Yes Nete, feel all of you. Need all of you. W-want you to move.” The ability to form coherent sentences starts to slip between your fingers. Neteyam, however, requires no further instruction. Your back hits the hammock once more as his strong grip clasps around the soft flesh of your hips. The mask is settled over your lips by the alpha before he continues. 

Slowly, but surely, he draws out with smooth and continuous thrusts. Your cunt clenches around him almost painfully, as if to keep him locked there. Once the tip is just barely past your entrance he starts to slide back in smoothly. The prolonged thrusts eventually angle in a way that hits a bundle of nerves inside you that has never been explored by you before. Neteyam moans in sync with you as he can feel your own pleasure every time the head of his cock rubs at the rosy spot. 

It spurs him forward. You don’t have to explicitly tell him to go faster because he can feel it straight through the bond. It allows you to focus the energy you have left on gripping his shoulders for dear life. A brutal rhythm begins to take place, your legs wrapped around his waist. 

“Oh Eywa!” You screech. The obscene noises of skin slapping fills the room along with Neteyam’s loosed growls and grunts. 

“That’s not my name, Tanhi.” The alpha teases, but you can feel the aching desire he has to hear his own name upon your lips. To have the auditory satisfaction of knowing he is pleasing his little mate.

“N-neteyam oh haa Nete!” 

His precision at hitting your g spot increases. Neteyam learns your body with an impressive speed. One hand comes up to palm and tease your breasts in his large hand. His eyes switching back and forth between watching his cock disappear inside of you and marveling at the nipple hardening between his pinched fingers. 

Everything starts to become a blur for you. The origins of sounds are unknown. Several times you are surprised to find that the high pitched screams are coming from your own throat. Your body shakes and trembles as if it is about to shatter into a million pieces. And that is what you come to truly believe as it overwhelms your senses. It is so consuming and new that you start to sputter little pleas of mercy to your mate, convinced that you truly will die from this overload of sensations. 

“It’s alright, Tanhi. You’re alright. Just let go for me. Let it all go.” 

Your hair tangles in the woven material of the hammock as you shake your head. Neteyam thrusts become ragged and less coordinated but he slips a hand down to fondle at your clit. You scream and arch, cumming harder than ever before. Neteyam is less than a second behind you, feeling the effects of your orgasm through the bond. Warm ropes of seeds paint your inner walls. 

The first normal sense that comes to you is the feeling of Neteyam’s heavy and warm body collapsed on top of yours. Heated breath tickles at your neck, intermittent with sweet kisses and nonsense murmurs. You let yourself bask in the afterglow. Your body is sore and motionless, but luckily Neteyam takes over. Only a tiny sound comes from you when he slips out.

“Come here, tanhi.” Your boneless body is pulled to lay on top of him. Soothing affection swims across the bond when you nuzzle your face against his chest. The swing of the hammock and rhythm of his heartbeat is quickly luring you to sleep. 

Neteyam grabs your hand and kisses it sweetly. You can vaguely make out the sound of his voice, but the words are like garbled noises which never compute in your brain. It’s hard to say whether or not it’s english or if you just can’t understand simple words now in your fucked out state. Still, you like the way it makes his chest rumble. 

“Neteyam.” The rumble stops, tail flickering as he waits patiently. 

“I see you.” Your words are barely more than a whisper in the stuffy room but they ring true. He gently places the breathing mask over your lips again before your eyes close. 

“You’re all I see, little star.” 

Taglist @yurmomsawh0r @nilahsstuff @name-saken @luvv4j4ybe11 @stylishtoast @karateperson @henhouse-horrors @easy2004 @whisperingwillow0854 @whenercolorfulrainbowlol @neteyamtesuli

#withered #neteyam x reader #alpha neteyam x beta reader #alpha neteyam #fem reader #neteyam fanfiction #neteyam smut #neteyam angst #neteyam fluff #neteyam sully #neteyam sully x reader #neteyam x na'vi reader #protective neteyam #possessive neteyam #omegaverse #avatar wow #avatar smut #avatar fanfiction #avatar #avatar wow neteyam #angst #fluff #smut #dad jake sully #mom neytiri #cute tuk #kiri sully #lo'ak sully

[memeadonna]

#I made a shitty meme #Now you all have to look at it #Astarion #baldur's gate 3 #Withers #Astarion x reader

[scuttlingcrab]

Fiendish Rewards

Summary: Raphael appears at Withers' party, hoping to finally collect the Crown of Karsus from Tav. However, an unexpected turn of events causes Raphael to re-think his plans.

Notes: Featuring growing tensions and light angst. I always wondered what would happen when Raphael wore the Crown for the first time. This might be a wee bit too long but I initially intended this to be another submission for @dmagedgoods Raphael romance collection.

Link to my other work in the Devil's Archive.

(Image via raphael-ancunin)

Raphael knew he was intruding. He had no business attending Withers' party, yet he arrived fashionably late all the same. He would never show his face, grace the companions with his presence, merely to exchange pleasantries. As tempting as their tadpole-free souls were, the simple minded mortals had no meaning to him now that the Elder Brain was defeated. That evening Raphael’s only desire was to collect the Crown of Karsus. And perhaps, converse with that little mouse, if time allowed. 

Thus, the Devil did what he knew best: lurked from the shadows of the wings and listened for his cue. 

Raphael had abided for over a millennium after he lost the Crown to Mephistopheles, lashing out with such violent anger in the first century that he nearly eradicated an entire plane. That initial taste of defeat never left his memory; the bitterness, that rotting feeling he felt deep within his core still haunted him. It was his first introduction to failure and the last. 

He eventually learned how to forge that frothing hatred for his father, his revulsion at the cursed cards he had been dealt with, into a far more superior weapon: knowledge, his greatest strength. Raphael researched, manipulated, and opened up the recesses of his mind to devour the ins-and-outs of the Hells. He painstakingly plotted, weaving his schemes into the very fabric of fate itself, planting the seeds of prosperity for what he hoped would eventually gain him a win.

Despite all Raphael had endured since the collapse of Netheril, the last 6 months had been the most excruciating. Waiting. Watching. Hoping. There was no longer an Archdevil in his path, but a mere mortal. His hunger for power grew rampant as he watched Tav continue to elude him, to harbour the final piece of his victory as she tried to reclaim what was left of her old life. That selfish creature. 

To Tav’s credit, she had been quite remarkable on the battlefield, showcasing her strength and resolve as she smited enemies and climbed through the carnage to her destiny. She left a sea of corpses in her wake, the mortal rubble alone was unlike anything Raphael had ever seen. Out of all the calamities he had been fortunate enough to craft and witness, being a spectator during the fight against the Netherbrain would forever be a highlight.

When the Crown fell into the River Chionthar, Raphael eagerly watched as Tav spent weeks fishing it out, taking her precious time as she retrieved each broken piece of his future. He restlessly stormed the halls of his domain, cursing the woman for attempting such an arduous task alone. He could have aided her, sent in Korrilla as a last resort, but he refused. He would not give Tav the satisfaction, she would have to work just a little more to complete her end of the bargain. Besides, there was something endearing about watching Tav work so diligently, the determination in those eyes reminded Raphael of himself.

The little mouse was Raphael’s greatest investment and he’d be damned if she failed him now, or if he let his sudden affinity for her overtake his true purpose. Raphael’s ambitions for the Crown had somehow intertwined with his infatuation for the woman, and he was just as much to blame.

He had let this farce go on for long enough. Raphael would not stoop so low in his final moments before he rose to glory. Once Tav crowned him, these foolish emotions would cease and he would continue with his grand plan. He was a Devil and he would not let these cursed mortal emotions falter his intentions any longer; he would never allow anything, anyone, to destroy his work. Raphael’s blood, sweat, and tears would not be in vain. 

Cheering suddenly came from the camp as Tav and her companions raised their chalices in celebration. Withers' speech had finally ended, much to Raphael’s delight. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could’ve listened to the monotonous dribble. The monologue was indeed rousing, but Raphael could’ve done better, if given the opportunity. 

One by one, the group of heroes slowly disbanded, until only Tav remained. She made her way around the camp, stopping by each empty tent. It was as if the little mouse was paying her respects, bidding farewell to the ghosts of her past.

When Tav was done she wandered to the lakefront and sat down on a mossy rock, staring into the sparkling evening sky. The light in her own eyes vanished, leaving a dark cloud looming above her. 

Raphael took that as his signal. He quietly removed himself from the cover of the treeline and began his entrance, approaching Tav with a swagger. 

“If it isn’t the hero of Baldur’s Gate. My, how far we’ve come! It feels like only yesterday you fell from the skies, tadpole and all, and began your little adventure; slowly scurrying your way to triumph.”

Tav smiled at the sound of Raphael’s voice, turning to greet him. They locked eyes, her expression brightening. That look pierced through Raphael’s defences with such ease, a slight chill crawling up from the base of his spine. He stopped in his tracks, quickly recovering by placing a hand on his hip. It had been too long since they were alone, when he had last gazed into those cursed eyes. Careful now. 

“Raphael, always the poet.”

“The little mouse is no longer, but now a ferocious lion. Congratulations are in order.”

Raphael gifted Tav with his most flourishing bow, hoping the gesture would distract from his earlier misstep.  

“Now do tell, how does it feel to be the victor? To have saved the world? Is it as the bards have sung?” Raphael rose, taking another step towards Tav. 

Tav merely shrugged, her lips quickly returning to a frown. 

“Dunno.”

“I would have thought a hero to be more eloquent.”

“I'm still waiting for that ‘ah-ha!’ moment, but if we’re being honest tonight, I’m not really sure what it means to be a hero.”

“You will come to understand eventually. It’s the very nature of your existence.”

Tav remained silent, pulling her eyes away from Raphael. She stared down at her hands, studying her scarred palms.

“May I?” Raphael inquired, gesturing towards the available space on the rock. 

Tav nodded and Raphael sat himself beside her, intentionally leaving a minimal amount of space between them.

“You have something that belongs to me.”

“There it is,” Tav said, through a faint laugh, “You know, I was expecting you to come sooner.”

“I’ve often found the best persuasions are the ones that aren't forced.”

Tav looked up at Raphael, her eyes moving over every inch of his guise, stopping briefly near his lips. He was close now, so close. To the Crown. To his objectives. And to that damned woman.  

“May I see the Crown, please?”

Tav smiled, moving towards Raphael. For a split second, Raphael expected a kiss. It was only natural for mortals to attempt such a distraction in times of distress. Infuriating as it was, he wouldn’t have been opposed to such a notion. Tav instead reached down for her backpack lying in the sand, placing it on her lap. 

She pulled open the straps and yanked out the Crown, handling it as if it was but a petty trinket. Raphael suppressed a sigh, he would not let the significance of this moment be soiled due to the mortal’s lack of formality. 

“I managed to reforge it, to the best of my abilities, thanks to the Annals of Karsus. Though I haven't tried it on yet to see if it worked.”

“A wise choice.” 

Tav held the Crown out towards Raphael, but he raised his hand. With a flick of his wrist, the Crown floated out of Tav’s grasp, slowly moving towards him. It was just as beautiful as he remembered, if not more so. It glistened under the moonlight, calling to him. Soon. Very soon. He let the Crown hover, spinning delicately, for a few more seconds.

“Do you need me to remind you of our terms? The deal was that you are to crown me. I would’ve come to you long ago if I could simply put it on myself.”

“Gods. Really, Raphael?” 

“Truly.” Raphael donned his notorious smirk in response.

“Fine, are we to do this here then?”

“I couldn't think of a more fitting location.” 

Raphael rose, walking towards the middle of the lakefront. He snapped his fingers, and a luscious red silk pillow appeared. He shifted it slightly in the sand and bent a knee, preparing himself for the crowning. 

“Come, it is time.” 

Tav stood intending to grab the Crown, but before she could reach it, Raphael beckoned it towards him. Tav quickly followed, positioning herself above Raphael. He raised his head to gaze at the magnificent sight in front of him. The moonlight framed Tav perfectly, she was silhouetted against the dark sky, glowing. The Crown and the little mouse, side-by-side, as it was always destined to be. 

Raphael took a deep breath, closing his eyes. He absorbed the scents and sounds around him; earthy tones, a hint of wetness, mixed with the fresh woodland air. Faint chirping from various insects called out to him, the leaves rustled slightly against the warm summer wind. His heartbeat intensified, growing more rapid, adding an extra drum beat to the night’s symphony. 

“Let’s get on with it then.” Tav spoke. 

Raphael opened his eyes and watched Tav grab the Crown, lowering it on top of his head. 

When the Crown touched his forehead, it reformed itself to accommodate his size, shrinking to provide a snugger fit. It hissed into place and then in an instant, everything changed. 

Pain, pleasure, fear, anger, confusion; every possible emotion tore through his very being. He was ripped in two, three, four… millions of tiny little pieces. His head throbbed with information, so many secrets, so much… he saw and felt everything, what could’ve been, what might come to pass… it was too much. Too much! Too fast! 

He fell forwards, his hands digging, ripping through sand. He was alone, always alone, darkness surrounded him. No. There was light, light flooded in from the top of his skull, projecting into every possible direction. He was the light. He was the dark. He was all-encompassing. 

Raphael screamed, his voice echoing into the abyss around him. He had never read about such a reaction, in all his years of researching, how could he have missed… could it be because… NO. He will tame this. He will persist. He will… 

The sand beneath Raphael turned to liquid as the newfound power continued to surge through his limbs, burning his veins. He tore at his own flesh and bones to rid himself of the agony, but it wouldn’t come to an end. 

“Raphael!” He heard a voice shout, such a familiar tune. But who? He couldn’t quite place it.

Raphael erupted, his devilish wings tearing through the skin in his back. There were flames all around him, growing hotter, thicker. His chest melted, his ears ached from the thunderous explosions. Whispers, whispers everywhere. He heard so many, and the cries, the screams. Would they never cease? 

Something tore at his head, pulling the Crown away from him. The Crown. NO! He cannot lose it again. Raphael raised his hands attempting to fight back, but he was grasping at nothing. It was over as fast as it had begun. There was now silence. 

Raphael’s vision cleared. He was on his back, looking up at the stars. Tav stood over him, holding the Crown in her hands. She eyed him with concern, tears flooding down her cheeks. He raised his own hands, his claws trembling. Raphael tried to think but his mind was vacant, every thought achingly bounced back. His skin burned, bones ached. There were deep lacerations all over his body, his own hands were covered in blood. He gasped, looking at Tav’s body but found no abrasions. He let out a disgruntled sigh. If he had harmed her in his rage, in those brief seconds of failure… would he ever forgive himself? 

Tav threw the Crown aside and helped Raphael to his feet. His eyes followed the artefact as it landed on top of the sand, taunting him still. How?

As if reading Raphael’s mind, Withers' voice cut through the silence as he appeared before them.

“Thou hast succeeded but are not yet ready. Take care that thou are not too hasty, thine pursuits will lead to plights.” There was a long pause as Withers continued staring at Raphael, looking straight through him. He met Withers’ expressionless gaze, waiting for him to continue. “The pattern has been woven and all circumstances interlaced are as fate decided.” 

Raphael never imagined the consequences of his premature investiture. He was always going to reforge the Crown himself, in his own image. How could he possibly trust a mortal to handle such a relic successfully? But in the heat of the moment, and in the fine print of the very deal he crafted, he had opened himself up to carelessness, becoming the very thing he despised.

His eyes darted to Tav, searching the woman for any excuse against his actions but he could only look at her with veneration. He would not blame her for everything. His vanity, eagerness… his obsession for the Crown and that cursed woman nearly brought him to his untimely demise. Let this be a lesson to Raphael to heed his own warnings. The Devil would need to cool his heels in preparation for the battles looming ahead.

Raphael turned to face Withers, but the curious being had vanished. Instead he hummed thoughtfully, looking at Tav. 

She stood next to him, her body trembling. Tav's eyes were fixed on Raphael, still full of worry but there was something else present, another emotion he thought he’d never see from a mortal again.

Tav’s expression sent a sudden stabbing pain through his chest as a wave of nostalgia washed over him. There was another mortal who had once looked at him with the same kindness and understanding. He had buried it deep within his subconscious, but it was rising back to the surface, like a blooming flower. He would NOT allow himself anymore turmoil this evening.

“I owe you my thanks.” Raphael whispered, his voice on the verge of cracking.

“Raphael, I don’t understand, you were nea…” 

“If you value your life, you will hold your tongue. There will be no talk of this moment again. Ever. Have I made myself clear?”

Tav’s eyes widened at his sudden change of tone, but she nodded nonetheless. 

“I must return to my House of Hope. For healing and reflection. There is work yet to be done, as you have borne witness to this evening.” Raphael snapped his fingers, a raging portal materialised behind him. “You may join me, if you so wish.”

Raphael extended his arm, welcoming her acceptance. 

“Would you consider our deal completed then?” Tav asked, apprehensively. 

“You have upheld your end of the agreement, exceptionally well, might I add, bar this evening's hiccup. Now please, let me show you my appreciation.” 

A dash of colour appeared on Tav’s cheeks as she wiped away the remaining tears. She grabbed her backpack, placing the Crown inside. She swiftly reached for Raphael’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Raphael nodded in acknowledgment and led Tav through the portal. 

Indeed, their deal was complete, but Raphael wasn’t done with Tav yet. She would continue to prove a valuable ally and more in the months to come.

#writing #bg3 raphael #raphael the cambion #baldurs gate 3 raphael #raphael baldur's gate 3 #raphael bg3 #bg3 #fanfic #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 fanfiction #MakeRaphaelRomanceable #raphael fanfic #raphael x reader #raphael bg3 x reader #raphael x tav #raphael #Crown of Karsus #bg3 fic #tav #raphael bg3 x tav #bg3 withers #bg3 tav

[pianocat939]

I WILL BE HEARING YOU OYT ON YANDERE BONNIE PLEASE RANT TO ME POST ALL YOUR IDEAS

Ok I’m gonna do withered Bonnie bcs it just makes sense for this-

Tw: Murder *new animatronic ahem ahem*, stalking basically

Imagine you, are a new guard.

Simple.

You successfully do your job, with no worries or even creeped out at all.

You basically say “fuck off” to every animatronic.

.

.

.

Meanwhile, Bonnie is intrigued. In his broken, unusable state, seeing you act so nonchalantly to his…“replacement”, brings him a weird inspiration.

Out of curiousity, he watched you. Not out of malicious intent. Just curiosity.

Let’s say you respond to him nicely, after realizing he isn’t an enemy. And his dead heart evokes up into flames.

He wants to be close to you. He wants to be wanted again. He wants to be someone’s favourite again. He wants to be loved again.

…

As the nights pass by. He tries to destroy all the other malicious animatronics. While also approaching closer to you.

At some point, if you fall asleep on accident, he’s putting an unused table cloth over you to keep you warmer. And maybe a few hugs and nuzzles stolen without you knowing.

You’re warm. He likes that. You’re not cold like he is.

…

Don’t question him when he stuffs you into an unused bunny animatronic. He just really, really wants you to stay, and be his warmth. Forever.

Until the place burns down, bringing the two of you along.

“Stay with me. I’m so lonely without you. You’re all I have.”

(This was so self-indulgent it’s not even funny-)

- Celina

#Bonnie #Bonnie fnaf #withered bonnie #fnaf #fnaf 2 #five nights at freddy's #five nights at Freddy’s 2 #Bonnie x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #fnaf x reader #five nights at Freddy’s x reader

[ransprang]

Can I request headcanons for bg3 (basically the whole party) for the holiday seasons? (Fem aligned pronouns) Where reader was isekai'd from our world and she asks the party about holidays and is kind of bummed out theres nothing really similar to Christmas since its one of her favorite holidays. So When it gets cold out reader buys everyone a gift and wraps it with birch bark to surprise everyone? If you dont want to do the holiday thing maybe just reader who gets Isekai'd and has zero idea what to do and is really scared of everything because she has no idea whats going on?

hii thank you for the request, and have a happy holiday season!

BG3 x Christmas HCs

Astarion

looks at his Christmas gift “what in the hells is that?” “Is it poisonous or does it explode?” He just can’t fathom you’re just giving him a present. No ones ever been kind to him let alone share festive gifts. Eventually he will show up at your door naked “Is this a ‘Christmas’ enough present for you?”

He can’t stop laughing when you convince the rest of the camp to wear Christmas hats, “Clowns.” He calls them. You have to nudge him hard for him to stop ruining the festive spirit.

⁠”Is this Santa of yours a vampire? I mean..if he only comes out at night and punishes the naughty ones,” he gives you a smirk

Withers

"Ah the annual rite of gift-giving on the solstice. I do not value such material possessions but the sentiment is not lost on me." He will accept your gift but you will never see him use it.

Will show up at camp wearing a small Santa hat on his bald head. Will not answer any questions about it.

Sometimes you think if you hear him humming jingle bells but you can never make out the words because it's in some archaic dead language.

Laezel

touched your present with a stick “What is that? Are you trying to kill me?” She has a disgusted expression. Why would you spend your time getting her a gift instead of finding a solution for the parasite?

After a while of convincing, she’s ready to open it. She has a soft smile and doesn’t let it show that it actually made her warm even for a second.

After you sit her down and tell her the Christmas lore she rolls her eyes “Your kind disappoints me.” You tell her about the magic of Christmas as she smirks condescendingly “Whatever go do your thing, I’ll watch.”

Once she learns the carols and traditions there is no stopping her. She’s a woman who believes in long-standing institutes and traditions and she will uphold yours with pride too when she gets used to it.

Halsin

the way this man would hug you after receiving a gift ugh. you cannot tell me gift giving isn't one of his love languages, so he'd really really appreciate it

he keeps a very open mind while listening to you talking about Christmas and the traditions you practice. Being a druid he has his own rituals and beliefs which others judge so he is open

whittles you a wooden figurine of your favorite animal or of your pet from your world if you can describe it in detail

he would love the gift exchanging part of the tradition. he’d get everyone a gift, not as intricate as the one for you though. Maybe more so around herbs, flowers and potions

Shadowheart

"oh my, a present.. for me?" she'd be surprised that you even thought of getting her a gift

when she unwraps the gift she'd have a small smile on her face, "thank you y/n. this is very thoughtful of you. i'll remember this."

she’d be tad jealous that your beliefs are so fun. she’d lowkey wish Shar/Selune had celebrations that got people together

Gale

"A present? for me?", being locked up in his tower for so long he is quite taken aback.

"Why, where are my manners, thank you y/n. I do wish you told me about this tradition of yours. I'd have gotten you something. No matter, once we get the guests in our brains out, I'll make sure to get you something."

he'd use his magic to try and conjure up snow no matter where the party is camping

Minsc

Minsc gets very excited by whatever you get him since it's the thought that counts. "Look at what y/n got us Boo"

he sees how your eyes light up as you talk about Christmas so he gets equally excited for you

Minsc would dress up Boo in a red hat and green jacket (don’t ask how he got them)

nooooooot the best gift giver. he isn’t crafty, so he may end up making you arrows and a bow. but his smile is so big and bright that you’ll have to pretend to really like it

Wyll

He surprises you with a thoughtful gift before you can even give him one. His noble upbringing covered the strange Christmas customs of your land.

"To have you in my life is gift enough, my love. You didn't have to get me anything, your smile alone would have sufficed." Nonetheless, he accepts your gift with an elegant bow.

You both do a slow waltz to every single Christmas song you hear, no matter what the tempo or the lyrics are. You are simply too lost in each others' eyes to care.

Karlach

"Presents! For me? You're kidding!" She would run around camp like an excited toddler with her gifts. You would have to remind her to calm down so she wouldn't burn down the place.

"Thank you, soldier. I love it so much," she would grin at you. She would ask a lot of questions about Christmas and fall in love with the holiday. Gifts, food and wine, all of it would sound amazing to her after spending so many years in Avernus.

She would get really into the celebrations and her joy would be infectious. Watching her bust out her hip-hop moves during Silent Night would be the highlight of your evening.

Jaheira

"Oh, you got me a gift? How nice. See you can be kind to your elders." She would make fun of you in the moment but appreciate the gift nonetheless.

"It's not a knitted blanket for grandma, is it? I'm not ready to retire just yet."

Being a druid, she's not interested in the religious elements or traditions but joins in heartily for the eggnog and anything else booze-related.

your gifts,

admins sar, san & sav

#bg3 #baldur's gate #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate astarion #bg3 astarion #astarion x reader #astarion #baldurs gate #shadowheart #lae'zel #karlach #wyll #jaheira #minsc #halsin #withers #gale #gale x reader #halsin x reader #karlach x reader #laezel x reader #wyll x reader #shadowheart x reader #minsc x reader #bg3 withers

[egooppidum]

My biggest mistake was romancing Astarion first. I can no longer turn away from this path and try other romances.

If I went back in time, I would make this mistake again. I had enough strength in early access but now when I know full story, the thought that without Tav he would be alone... is unbearable.

Maybe if Larian worked on friendships more, I could (no).

#He was always my first choice #In my first (true) playthrough I could not do otherwise #So it was inevitable #Withers would have said something funny about it #Something about ways of life #astarion #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion x tav #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate iii #astarion x reader

[kiritella]

Birds and Stones

Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!reader

Words: 3.1k~

Warnings: A monster fight (rather non-descriptive), a little blood, hypothermia, worried Geralt

Author's Notes: Sorry this one is a bit off my usual and if it is weird. I recently powered through The Witcher on Netflix and had a thought. Writer's block is still rough, but getting better!

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

“Geralt—”

It wasn’t his name that cut through him like a jagged blade when the kikimora’s talon hit his chest, it was the scream that came with it. It was the sound of her voice shifting from complete confidence in him to utter terror. The look in her eyes as she fell from the remains of the collapsing bridge, his hand wrenched from hers, the hope in them dying into realization. He couldn’t save her. This was his realization. Harrowing pain ripped through him when her body plunged into the river and her heartbeat, once a constant reminder of her presence, became indistinguishable from the rapids and ice carrying her body downstream. The kikimora took hold of him as her body vanished beneath the water, and a sound he hadn’t heard himself make in years tore from his throat: desperation.

Flung by the creature, his body collided on the other side of the fallen bridge, cushioned by the thick layer of snow. His head snapped back as the beast lunged for him, its blood staining the ground from its severed arm. Geralt’s hands tightened around the sword’s hilt as pain twisted out of his chest and sank into his limbs, turning his vision red and black. His mind didn’t register the fight, only a vague sense of movement as he swung his sword, a burn in his lungs, his muscles moving of their own habits and years of experience. His sense of time dulled as each second pulled out a year’s worth of life from him. He hadn’t heard her gasp for air. The red and black slipped out of his mind when his blade sheathed through the kikimora’s throat, retrieved only to cut off its head. Then he ran.

The rapids sent white mist up into the air when he found his way to the base of the cliffside, the sound of rushing water invading his ears to the point it was difficult to hear anything else. He scanned down the bank, but for as far as his eyes could reach, he saw nothing. No body, no footsteps, no indication she had pulled herself from the icy water. His breath came in short as he tried to focus, eyes becoming wild as he started downstream, his steps becoming quicker with each second passing that he couldn’t see a trace of her. 

Focus.

The body goes into shock when it hits the water, forcing you to gasp for breath. If she wasn’t careful, she could inhale water or fall into a spell of rapid breathing, losing control. She would need to control her breathing in under a minute.

After 10 minutes of immersion she would lose the ability to fully use her limbs. However, body heat would be lost faster the more she moved. She would need to flow with the current and glide herself to shore using as little movement as possible. How long had it taken him to kill the monster? How many minutes was that?

In under an hour, her body would become too weak and cold, forcing her unconscious and—

His jaw clenched. It wouldn’t take that long. Still, though he knew in his mind without a doubt, he would find her, he couldn’t settle the cold hands clenching around his lungs. The fear gripped at his chest like nothing else and drove his feet to move faster, his eyes to strain a little farther. It was a fear known only for those who were his.

She was his.

—

Her body struggled when her hand gripped onto the jagged rocks along the bank, her vision spotting as she heaved her chest out of the frozen water. Her lungs coughed up the remnants of the river behind her, limbs collapsing as they lost feeling. The pins and needles once sparking beneath her skin were gone, though her body shivered uncontrollably. It was a good sign, at least, the shivering, but the gust of deep winter air cut around her and she wondered how much longer her body would hold out against it. Rocks dug into the palms of her hands as she crawled further out of the water, her feet at last pulled onto the ground as the weight of her body grew. A cry broke against her teeth as pain erupted up her leg, curling even into her belly.

It had to be broken. Given the height she fell from, she wasn’t entirely surprised. It did, however, shatter her hopes of walking out of there, of finding Geralt. Gritting her teeth, she pulled herself up and looked around. Cliffs rose on either side of the river, leaving maybe a rod’s distance of graveled land between her and the nearest wall. Ice grew along the waterline, building up along the cliffs and its ledges as snow mounted upon them, and if she hadn’t been frightened of the cold allowing it to exist, it might have been beautiful. Perhaps if her mind wasn’t hazy and her vision growing dark, she would have admired them, but with growing numbness it was all a miserable shade of gray taunting her stubborn will to live. There were divots, though, small, but enough to shield her from the brunt of the wind if she could reach them. It was a bit of luck, she supposed. She smiled grimly, but it quickly dissolved when a shrill sound echoed through her memory.

Geralt. His hand gripping her wrist when the kikimora appeared, the bridge shaking under the creature’s weight, the sheathing ring of Geralt’s sword, the old ropes snapping—and weightlessness. So close to the ledge, to solid ground, and then nothing but a yank of her wrist as his hand was ripped from her by the swing of the kikimora’s arm. The sound that had ripped from his lungs—pain, desperation—she had never been cursed with the knowledge of it until now. Frustration, annoyance, gentleness, and care, those were the sounds she had a loving collection of, but this one—it sent violent tremors through her body. Fear. Fear for him. All at once, the pain in her leg, the weakness of her body and mind were insignificant. She dragged herself to her feet.

She huffed on a choked breath, her eyes squeezing closed against the wind as she hauled her body toward the cliffside. Her cries echoed along the stone when she stumbled against the wall, using its rugged face as a crutch to lean her weight on. Stubbornly, she walked, limping past the pain as she forced her numb legs to move, to find purchase, but all too soon she collapsed. Overtaken by the cold and the slippery, frozen ground, she fell to her knees near the mouth of a small cave, her head colliding with the wall to leave her more dizzy than she had already been. Just as quickly as the strength to stand had come to her, it left, leaving her hollow.

“—ralt…” she mumbled, his name sounding wrong coming from unfeeling lips and a heavy tongue. She huffed in frustration as pain swept over her skin with the wind, collecting the powdery white snow on her clothes.

Her clothes....

Clothes.

Shit.

Limply, her hands clawed at her soaked tunic, attempting to pull it over her head but failing miserably. Groaning weakly, she tried again, the garment slipping from her grasp as her fingers couldn’t hold onto the material, sliding over her body instead and falling to the ground. How long had she been out there? In the river? It was in this she noticed the stillness of her hand, and her heart sank. It wasn’t moving. She wasn’t moving.

When had she stopped shivering?

—

“Fuck—” Geralt cursed, his voice raw like the ground edges of a stone, his wide eyes latched on her collapsed body, snow beginning to pile upon her. His knees dug into the gravel as he dropped to her side. “Dove?” 

She was limp, her skin descending into a pale grey-blue as he rolled her onto her back, cradling her head. Clotted blood trailed down the side of her face as his hands flew to inspect the gash along her temple, his thumb sweeping over her cheek. The vines twisting around his chest tightened when her half-lidded eyes shifted, trailing up his body to meet his eyes, empty, lacking a sliver of recognition before they closed entirely. His lips pressed tight as he glanced to the mouth of the cave some distance away, and he hastened.

“Forgive me,” he spoke, laying her head back on the ground as he began to strip her body of her soaked clothes, his hands lingering along her skin to leave a trace of warmth in his wake. He paused at her legs when a purple swelling wrapped around one of her calves. Broken. He swallowed thickly and removed his cloak, wrapping her body within it and pulling her up against him.

He tried not to focus on how cold and limp she was, her nose like ice against his throat, or how still she was, not a shiver trembling within her, her chest hardly moving with each breath. Rather, he leaned his head over hers to hide her from the wind, tucked an arm beneath her knees and hauled her into his arms entirely. Lifting her with him, he rose to his feet and carried her the last bit of distance, into the mouth of the cave. He was quick, feet rushing as the snow storm grew, the afternoon sky darkened by the swells of ice in the atmosphere, spiraling down to the earth like a curse.

The wind howled as he pushed past the dead vines trailing over the cave’s entrance, taking her to the back where the air was still, settling himself on his knees a few feet from the furthest wall. Holding her, he reached out a hand in a sign, igni, and fire erupted violently over the stone. Lacking kindling, the flames soon died out, but their heat remained to act as a furnace. Carefully, he laid her cloaked body on them, an unsettling frustration building in his throat as her body limply settled.

He stormed off, returning after only a minute, her clothes tossed to some edge of the cave as he tore down the vines and bramble, the fallen branches at the foot of the cliff. He brought them beside her, using igni to get the wet wood to ignite, forcing them into a roaring flame. Shifting the sign once more to the rocks, he reheated the floor, sparks and flames blackening the stone. Quickly, his leather jerkin was removed, his tunic to follow before he brought her closer to the flames. Letting the cloak lie beneath her, he settled against her bare skin, his arms and legs wrapped around her with the flames at her back and the warm floor beneath them. 

“Come on now, dove,” he said, and it was now, as he was unable to do anything more than hold her and pray, that he was overwhelmed. His nose buried in the crook of her neck, his arms curling around her tighter, his fingers digging into her skin as his jaw set and released. His golden eyes squeezed shut as he listened to the only sound keeping him tethered: the gentle thump-thump dwelling in her chest—too slow to give him any true comfort.

He hadn’t realized he had shifted, his leg sliding over her hip to pull her closer, his arm tucked beneath her head and crossing over her back as he rocked them back and forth. The movement was hardly perceptible, his gentle sways as he tried to soothe the ache growing within him.

“It’s alright, you’re safe now.”

Thump—thump

“You’re too stubborn to give in to some cold water.”

Thump…..Thump

“Come on…”

Thump………..thump

Too slow—too slow, too fucking slow—

Geralt strained as pain ripped through his chest, tearing through his body and escaping him past grit teeth. He curled into her, hands gripped tight enough to leave bruises in their wake, pulling her into him as if he could sink into her, give her every last bit of himself. His warmth, his strength—everything. Again, the desperation took hold.

His voice was wretched and marred. “Come back. Damn you, come back to me.”

He waited. He waited and waited and waited, casting igni over and over until the floor radiated heat like a summer’s day. Sweat rolled down his back, both from the heat and physical strain of casting so many signs. His body ached, his mind warped, but as time collected minutes like gold, he heard it. Her heartbeat steadied, slowly increasing, her body warming. Relief flooded him, and his whole body went lax. Lifting his head from the crook of her neck, his eyes trailed over her. Her skin was shifting back to its normal hue, and her chest moved with every breath now passing her parted lips. Though her brow was furrowed, she shifted, and he didn’t care that the first sound she made was pained. She’d moved. The heavy breath caught in his lungs released, fanning over her cheek as her eyes cracked open.

—

Gold. It was the first thing she saw, two eyes so familiar and close she thought she was still dissolved in a dreamy haze—granted it had been a rather painful dream. The rest of him slowly formed in the blur, Geralt’s face framed by his dirty white hair, sweat beading along his hairline. One of his arms rested beneath her head, his other was wrapped snugly around her waist—her bare waist, she realized. Steadily, so very slowly, her memories trickled in and the fog lifted. A sigh escaped her as her eyes closed, fighting back the tears welling in them. 

She opened them again when Geralt’s hand cupped the side of her face, fingers reaching to the back of her neck. His jaw clenched, his body rigid as if the notion of her eyes being closed once more pained him. She could see it in the way his eyes flicked between hers, his breaths shallow.

“Hey there, handsome…” she said through heavy lips and tongue, and Geralt softened, huffing out a short laugh before his forehead leaned in, resting against hers.

“You’re delirious…”

“‘M not.”

“Confused, then.” He smiled, a narrow, crooked sort of thing just touching the edges of his lips with a slight tug. “Are you warm?”

She hummed, shivers running down her spine uncontrollably. “I’m getting there,” she whispered, lifting her heavy arm and resting it along his side, trailing her fingers along his skin. “Are you alright?”

He laughed again, but she couldn’t find the humor in the hollow sound this time. Rather, it sent an ache curling around her heart. A crease grew between her brows as she tried to sit up, stopping sharply as pain spiked up her leg. She grit her teeth, a stifled cry pushing up against them and Geralt was quick to press her back down.

“Don’t move. Your leg is broken.”

“Fuck…” she groaned, allowing herself to fall back against him. Still, her hands trailed over his torso, his chest, leading up his back and over his shoulders and arms. She hadn’t forgotten the bridge, the kikimora, the sound that had torn from him, and yet, she found few remnants of the fight. A light bruise, a cut, but no broken bones were to be found beneath her searching fingers, no true injury.

His eyes never left her even as hers wandered over his body, their intensity caressed her skin like she was about to slip out of sight, and he was desperate to remember every dip and curve. Haunted, like a nightmare on the verge of its precipice. Her breath caught when she found them, wide and gripping, almost as if—

“Geralt,” she whispered, sitting up onto her elbow. Her hand traced over his shoulder before her fingers passed over his temple, brushing back the tendrils of hair falling against his cheek, tucking them behind his ear. His lips tightened as his frightened eyes fell closed against his will, his brow furrowing with her touch—pained. “Are you alright?”

The fire crackled behind her, the licks of flames stirring with her shadow and sending waves of gold and yellow over his features. His hand swept up along her spine and over her neck to hold the side of her face, pulling her closer. The tip of his nose brushed along her cheek, his breath unsteady.

“I’m alright,” he said with a voice laced with something heavy and raw before his lips caught hers for a chaste moment. Like a grounding breath, a gust of fresh air, she was settled. “I’m relieved.”

Her hum was soft, sweet, and it washed over him, enveloped him, but not nearly as much as when she pressed her lips to his again, kissing him and solidifying him in the present. The touch of her hands, her scent, her heart—her heart—beating within her chest. She brought him back from the sharp edges of what could have been, what almost was, and gave him something soft to embrace.

Her thumb soothed the crease in his brow as she parted from him, pressing her forehead to his. And as he held her beside the fire, she grew warm. The shivering slowly subsided, the ache within her bones melted. With time, her lover, a man of too few of words to be able to tell her of his heart, was finally at ease. She could feel it as his calloused fingers ran along her skin, hear it as she laid on his chest, his heart falling back into its natural rhythm.

“No more precarious bridges for you,” Geralt said after some time, and she couldn’t help but laugh. His own was soon to follow, though she felt it more in the tremors of his chest more than she heard it.

She lifted her head, resting it on her hand as she peered up at him with a raised brow. “I would hope it is the last of precarious bridges for the both of us.”

He opened his mouth as if to argue, probably to spout some Witcher madness, but he thought the better of it. “I thought that was self evident,” he said, voice tilted in amusement.

She giggled, and this time, she was able to see the fullness of his smile as it reached out and softened every one of his features. Her fingers trailed up into his hair as she leaned in, kissing the cleft of his chin. His golden eyes held on to her as she tried to settle back against his chest. 

“You missed.”

Scoffing, she leaned over him, letting him watch as she rolled her eyes playfully. “Demanding,” she grumbled, and his smile only grew. Unable to refuse him, she brushed her lips against his. “I love you too, Geralt…” she whispered, and at last, she kissed him, knowing well the words he held in his throat, the ones he was trying to convey. She could feel them in his hands, taste them on his tongue. 

Even though the snow piled outside, the wind howling as the sun set, in that cave, in his arms, she was warm.

#birds and stones #geralt x reader #geralt of rivia #geralt x you #geralt x female!reader #geralt of rivia x reader #witcher geralt #the witcher #the witcher 3 #the witcher game #the witcher Netflix #the witcher x reader #witcher x reader #geralt x y/n #the wither fanfiction #henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry x reader #henry cavill x you #henry x you #henry cavill fanfiction #worried!geralt x reader #geralt x hurt!reader #geralt x injured!reader #geralt x reader angst #geralt x reader hurt #geralt x reader fluff #soft!geralt #soft!geralt x reader

[randomfanner]

Gale + Tara Headcanons

I love Gale so much. SFW Headcanons only, relationship and also just general life headcanons I have about the worlds saddest oxymoron.

Labeled TW: Gale got groomed. We are going to be discussing today Because even if he was an adult(which he probably wasn't) he still got groomed because Mystra had so much power over this man.

General TW: Gale has self hatred issues. I hate Mystra. We will be talking about Mystra in depth I promise. Also Gifted kid burn out and general tying all of your self worth to a talent.

So, body type head canon because Gale does not have abs. You cannot look me in the eyes and tell me Gale has abs. He is soft and a little squishy and very huggable.

Man is a cuddler. He always wants to cuddle. Whether it be you two be lounging on a sofa, each reading/doing your own tasks well you snuggle together, spooning in the morning, laying together after a night of passion, or whatever reason he can get to just hold you in his arms.

I think he is touch starved other than Tara. Which as great as Tara is it is not human touch. And gods don't... really physically touch. So I don't think he got very much physical affection from Mystra. So being touched, being held with your hands and feeling your flesh on his means so much to him.

He doesn't think he is good at it. But he still really likes to do it. If you ask him to cuddle with him, he will flip in his heart because it makes him the happiest man in the world to know you want to cuddle with him as much as he wants to cuddle with you.

Tara likes you. She likes you fast. She begins telling you all of Gale's stories from when he was younger, how sweet of a boy he was and how he would use his beginning magic to help people. If you give her attention she will purr so loud. Gale and Tara both really like chin scratches.

She begins calling you "Mrs/Mr/Mrx. Dekarios" pretty damn quickly. she has accepted you as his partner which she never did Mystra. it really throws Gale off when she does it. He admittedly thought Tara was so against Mystra because she was a lover period.

Tara also may begin to favor your lap. If this happens, Gale is... shocked and disappointed "You have stolen not only my heart, love, but my Treyssem as well." "Would you like to repeat that, Mr. Dekarios?"

And he wonders why she favors your lap.

She also favors you lap because she has to thank you for keeping her sweet boy alive for her. She may even allow you the honor to stroke her stomach a few times.

She also brings you gifts, magic items, trinkets, carcasses, whatever she can get her paws on and thinks you would like.

She takes you in fast and begins asking for grand babies. She wants grand babies and Gale's mother wants grand babies. The topic of course make your flustered each time and Gale denies the possibility of being a good father, but Tara is pretty insistent.

Morena also loves you as well and you best believe she is showing you pictures from Gale's childhood and telling you as much information as she can. Poor Gale just sits there and is extremely flustered well she recounts even his less flattering tales... but he does nothing to stop it.

He is really happy his mom and Tara both like you. It makes him the happiest man in the world.

Gale likes to cook for you. A lot. He cooks the fanciest, gourmet food and he is extremely good at it. He will set up fancy candle lit dinners with music in the background. This is basically every night but he tries to make sure it never truly loses its luster. (It never does).

He also makes you breakfast in bed. He has to crawl away from you in the morning to feed Tara and so he just makes you breakfast and comes back freshly deserved.

If you cook together man is smiling so much his jaw hurts. I cannot describe to you the joy he feels having you by his side, helping him cook.

Expect so much love poetry all of the time. Even when you are questing or not he will just slip a small piece of paper into your hand with all of his affections written down as poems.

He also quotes poetry verses that make him think of you, to you, at random times. He is hoping to make you smile with all of them.

Gale is so sweet to you all of the time. He treats you like you are divine, and to him you are. Complete gentleman all of the time. He does not carry anything. You could be a fighter with a 20 in strength with thighs and arms that could crush his fucking head like a grape, He will still insist on trying to carry anything heavy for you. He holds doors, pulls out chairs, makes sure your wine is refilled. He is so doting.

Man feels guilty that he is doing so little to help you at times. He wants to do more for you then he does. He tries to make sure you are pampered at all times. Kisses, gifts, fancy shows, lovely nights together.

But he tries to do more. he always makes sure to protect you in battle. He will take attacks, using shield and mage armor to make sure he can take as many hits as needed to protect you. He will be your knight in magic armor, a dashing smile well he does so.

This often leads to the ES(Emergency Shadowheart) because Gale is an over-confident wizard but if you are safe he doesn't care. If you are meant to be a tank, you may need to have a chat with him about the fact he is the squishy wizard man and you can protect him.

But it is Gale.

If you get sick or injured or anything Gale is fretting over you. He is holding you and yelling for Shadowheart like you are going to die at this moment. Even if it is a small thing he is very dramatic and very scared of losing you.

When you get sick or are on your period he makes sure to give you medicine to help with illness and pains, magic hiding the taste, and so much good food.

Tara also rests on your lap and acts like a heating pad. Purring and trying to help you feel better.

So like, after the ending I think Gale and you take a break from everything and just, go and look around. And Gale takes a break from magic. He can still love the art, and he will go back to it but I just think he needs to take a step back because magic and his talent for magic has kind of defined Gale his entire life.

I think him taking a break and just... being a person rather than a wizard for a little a while. He can be both, he knows he can. But he will need time and a deep breathe. He will go back, he loves to do magic. It means the world to him. But absences makes the heart grow fonder. And I think working on other skills he can be proud of and knowing Magic is one of the many things he is good at rather then the ONLY thing he is good at will do him wonders.

So I am going be talking about Gale's trauma a lot in the lower half of this. First, Gale's confidence issues and how fucked up the orb is. There will be comfort with Tara and you. After that we are going to get into the problem. The problem will come up in this section, however not the fact Gale got Groomed. That will be another different section.

Warning out of the way:

I think his self confidence and self image is being held together by the type of "I am good at magic". He was a prodigy and I think Gale only saw worth in his magic and his skill on it. He loves to do it too but at the same time he HAS to be good at it, or it feels like. He respects people who are better.

He did fuck up with the orb, but I also think he wasn't fully aware of what he was getting himself. Yes he should have known not listening to Mystra was a bad idea, but she didn't explain exactly what he did wrong until Gale talks with her in the game. This is years later.

Gale really needed Tara after he went from Mystra's Chosen and the Lover of Mystra to a fool who flew too close to the sun and came crashing down in a brilliant display of horrible glory. Man ruined his life, lost everything, and had a problem that Mystra gave him no ideas how to fix.

Mystra DID NOT EXPLAIN ANYTHING TO GALE UNTIL THAT CUTSCENE IN GAME YOU GET AFTER MYSTRA TELLS GALE TO BLOW HIMSELF UP. Gale was kept alive due to Tara. Tara was the one who flew off and found out how to help Gale.

I also think the only thing Mystra valued with Gale's magic knowledge and abilities. She is a goddess, she doesn't really eat human food, Tara and Mystra didn't each other, she is a goddess and I doubt physical touch was common.

So I think Gale being rude to you about magic, especially if you are a different class who can do magic and he insulted you, is because the is grasping with issues of trying to remind himself he is a good mage. This does not excuse his behavior. But I think when he realizes what he did he is going to apologize whole heartedly

One day he is just thinking about how you first met and he just realizes 'I was awful!"

He is going to hold your hand to his cheek, and apologize for doing that. Because you make him realize that he is more than his magic. He is more then what he has been called talented for and tied everything too for so long.

He isn't a failure if he fails with his magic.

Don't get me wrong, Gale can get ahead of himself and is pushy. I want to flick him in the head as soon as he begins thinking trying to become a god is a good idea in the first place. It is a horrible idea as much as I hate Mystra, don't want Gale to become a god. He deserves to be a good man with his wine, his library, his treyssem, and, should fates permit, you.

So, we are going to start talking about Mystra being a P*dophile and just the worst emotional manipulator. When we get to talking about it I am not censoring the word.

This is the end, I am not putting anything else below this. You are free to move along your day, you will not miss out on any of the good stuff. I promise.

This is the only notable part of this: I want Withers to be the god of Magic. He would be a great god of magic, he proves with Arabella.

So, Gale was like, 17 to 23 I believe the range is. And even if Gale is in the later half of that, he still got fucking groomed by Mystra because Mystra had and still has so much power over Gale.

She is the goddess of his greatest asset. His magic. And as we just discussed, the goddess of the thing he ties all of his self worth to. Mystra was literally someone he worshipped. She IS the goddess of magic. Gale had no power in the relationship and never did.

Mystra knows this. She is smart enough to know what is doing is fucking horrible, and get it, she is a god, but she is also a straight up pedophile. We all know about the fact people LITERALLY HIDE THEIR CHILDREN FROM HER.

I do not doubt that being Mystra's chosen meant doing everything she asked. I don't think Mystra took no for an answer in any matters. I also think mistakes were punished with emotional manipulation. Not violence like we see with Shar or Vaalikith (She sorta counts) but gods did he make Gale feel worthless if he failed.

I think Gale feels guilty for a lot of things a lot he shouldn't feel guilt for. I think one of the biggest things Mystra would make Gale feel guilty for was talking to basically any one else if it was not a work relationship.

I would not doubt if Mystra cut Gale off from his mother and would have from Tara if Tara was anyone else. Mystra is noted as a jealous goddess if you are dating Gale. I do not doubt that jealousy was a pretty frequent thing.

Tara hates Mystra with every bone in his fluffy body and tried so hard to talk to Gale but Gale would not listen to her because, well- she is his boss, his teacher, his lover and also the person who controls the thing he ties his self worth too of course he is going to listen to everything Mystra said.

Also Mystra 100% cut Gale off from any source of help he could actually get. Again, Tara was the one to find out about the orb. And I think more than just shame, embarrassment and being a laughing stock from one of the greats, I think Mystra made sure no one was going to be talking to Gale.

I want DLC where we beat the fuck out of Mystra. I really want to kill her. I know I cannot but she is terrible and she deserves death. I know I am captain obvious right now but I cannot stress this enough.

I want Withers to be the god of Magic. He would be a great god of magic, he proves with Arabella.

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #baldurs gate gale #gale x tav #bg3 gale #gale fluff #Gale needs a hug #fuck mystra #I hate Mystra so much #Tara is my favorite momma cat #gale x reader #Gale is baby #Withers should be the god of magic #tw: mystra

[joonsytip]

Withering for You || Seungcheol - Part 1

Pairings: Seungcheol x Fem!Reader

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut, CEO! Seungcheol au, Husband! Seungcheol au, Wife! Reader au, Music Teacher! Reader au, Arranged Marriage au, College Sweetheart au, Exes to Lovers au

Synopsis: When you are arranged married to the man, whose heart you had broken years ago, even dreaming about mending things seems next to impossible when he has been holding grudge for all these only to return it to you tenfold.

Warnings (specific to this part): Seungcheol is the biggest meany, crying, profanities, everyone is hurt and sad, everything is on rocks, mentions of infidelity (doesn't happen to though)

Word Count: 6.5k

Banner credits to my baby @hoeforhao (idk how I'd survive without you) <3

A/N: I'm back after a break, thanks for being patient.

[ SVT Masterlist ] [ SVT Flick - Fic Masterlist ]

Teaser | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Epilogue

You see his face everywhere. He's on every billboard accross the city, on every magazine's cover page or the advertisements shown on giant LEDs.

Since the CEO of Choi Enterprise, unarguably the continent's best interior designing company, stepped down, the position was acquired by his son, Choi Seungcheol.

The enigmatic, quintessential, charismatic Choi Seungcheol. Who also happens to be your ex. Who's also the man you're on your way to meet. Make it make sense, you both have given a nod to your families to meet up for the prelim talks of marriage.

Your parents had been nagging you constantly to settle down and for every match they brought in, you wouldn't even blink an eye to reject the person. When asked the reason to their surprise, you always had some valid points to add in the books of rejection.

So when one afternoon you received a call from your father, surprisingly, requesting you to get home from earlier, you had never expected to see both of your parents distressed about a match that came in. When they slid the photo to you across the table you froze.

It was a picture of Seungcheol, his face wearing an expression everyone would take for being a lookup but somehow you felt his eyes were strained mockingly at you, as if he took that shot only for you.

"W-What does this mean?", the first question, when you are finally able to tear your eyes from the photo.

"Your matchmaking profile somehow got to the Choi's and they agreed to meet for talks--"

You're cutting off your mother, "No way Seungcheol would be agreeing to do this."

"It was Seungcheol.", your father's statement stuns you, "For what I've heard is it's only Seungcheol, who had agreed on this."

It took you a whole week to decide on it. A whole lot of contemplation and hesitation before you made up your mind to go for it. Roles reversed, your parents were hell bent on not letting you meet the Choi's because frankly they were no stranger to your past with Seungcheol's.

So now here you are, along with your parents standing in front of the 'Ritz Esplaza', one of the subsidiary hotels owned by the Choi's, the most exquisite one in the country as well.

When you had made up your mind, you had also mentally prepared yourself for all the attacks you knew you are going to face because no way Seungcheol is doing this with the motive of actually settling down with you happily. But since fate has given you another chance, you'd definitely try your best to hold in that man who holds onto your heart.

"Are you sure?", asks your father, concern evident in his voice. You give him a firm nod and walk into the building. Your anxious eyes watch you pass the floors one by one inside the elevator until it's your stop. When the door opens, you take a deep breath and walk out.

When was the last time you saw Seungcheol? Was it the day of graduation? Maybe it was at a party hosted by a common friend? Or was it the day you tore him apart? You couldn't remember clearly.

Seungcheol is people magnet. He's pleasant on eyes and he is the most sought after bachelor of the country.

As soon as you enter the lounge, you are lead into the executive room. And as soon as you step in, everything fades away except for the pair eyes on which your gaze locks.

Time has definitely done good to Seungcheol. The pictures don't do justice to how beautiful he actually is. You let your eyes linger on him. You notice the puffiness of his cheeks is now gone, his nose and jawline being sharper, his build strauter, physique drool worthy but what about him hasn't changed are his eyes. He has still those beautiful deep eyes those carry the entire universe in them.

But those eyes which had love filled in them for you once, are now looking at you condescendingly.

Awkward smiles and glances are exchanged before everyone takes their seat. As easy as to decipher it is, none of the parents are okay with this predicament. They can't comprehend why their children would put themselves into such a thing, a marriage without love but despise, hatred and pettiness.

No one makes an effort to initiate the conversation and as you sit anxious under Seungcheol's unwavering gaze which starts to creep onto your skin. When enough, you stand up, a loud screech of your chair erupting the air and look into his eyes as you say, "I want to have a talk with you in private."

Seungcheol smirks, eyes making a sumptuous roll as he gets up without a word and walks towards another room, having you follow him.

You enter, closing the door behind you. Seungcheol sits on the couch, unspeaking. As silence looms over again, you understand that Seungcheol doesn't have an ounce of interest in striking any kind of conversation with you.

Before unsettling thoughts could engulf you once more--

"Why did you agree to marry me, Seungcheol?"

The said man's lips curl up in a smirk as his snark respond comes to bite you, "I didn't agree. I chose to marry you, Y/N."

You shudder under his presence yet once more tonight.

"Why?", comes out your strained voice with a heavy question that you both know loomed since the beginning.

"Why are you here?", he questions back, "You could have said no. I believe no one has forced you to be here", he snides, "No one could ever force a manipulative woman like you."

There's an answer that's at the tip of your tongue which you don't want to let out because you know it would hold no value to Seungcheol.

"Let me guess?", he rubs his chin as if thinking, "For status or for money, maybe both? Habits die hard afterall."

Your ability to speak is snatched from you and it's a given that Seungcheol certainly won't stop degrading you anytime soon. But that's what, you know, you're mentally prepared but also you're not.

The same Seungcheol who'd have once fought the whole world for you, has become the person who'd slice you down with the thinnest thread mercilessly.

You agreed to marry Seungcheol because you think life has given you another chance to set things right.

Seungcheol agreed to marry you just to make your life miserable.

"Are you on IUD?", he asks off track and you gape at him shocked.

When you don't answer he continues, "I can book you an appointment whenever you're free this week to get it done."

Your whisper of a meek 'why' is met by another snarky response, "You surely know why. The major one accounts as your devotion to me as a wife."

Honestly, when his secretary who's also a close friend to him showed Seungcheol your profile on a matchmaking app, his mind squared on making a sick joke just to test your audacity. Never did he thought that you actually be willing to even meet him. Again, you are shameless and greedy, he knew that, so was he really surprised?

Seungcheol with every nerve in his body is trying to test your temper and patience. He wants you to admit defeat, wants you to scratch that ridiculous idea of marrying him because he knows how pathetic of a living being you are. He knows you for the real you.

You with every nerve in your body are, will try to make this work. To mends things, to love once again. You too know Seungcheol for the real him, so you're adamant to make this marriage work.

"Book me an appointment on Wednesday.", you say confidently, "And we're going to have the wedding, Seungcheol."

"Oh well, I'm aware of your determination", Seungcheol says with a tinge of annoyance, "But, take it as an warning, I'm not gonna let you have it smooth. I would be your husband only on the papers and in front of the cameras.", the smirk finds it's way back on his lips, "You'd just be a trophy wife for showcase, you'd only be someone to warm my bed. You get the status, fame and money but...", he stops all at once.

You finish it for him, "Love. I'll gain your trust. Consider it as my redemption, my repentance to the wrong I did you. I'll make it right, I hope you'll find it in yourself to love me again."

Seungcheol's face contorts as if he has heard the most ridiculous joke ever. As the memories of past continuous to become vivid in the back of his mind, he decides to leave the room, leave you behind.

He promises himself to never let you breathe peacefully, he promises he'd make you beg him for divorce within months of wedding. As the corner of his eyes gets wetter, he promises, he'd pay you back all the heartbreaks you had given him.

As soon as the wedding is finalized, a dedicated PR team of the Choi's releases the statement, rather an announcement of what everyone is calling as the 'wedding of the year'.

Your father too runs a company which was build solely by him, but on scale, your and Seungcheol's families nowhere collided in the terms of riches. Maybe the social circle would allow both the families to gather under a hall sometimes but that was rare and the Choi's had been entitled to the top tier.

So people are curious. Curious about who's the  country's most eligible bachelor getting married to. Who are you? How are you getting hitched to Seungcheol when there are the richest of heiresses lining up to getting linked to the Choi's? The whole nation is curious and everyone is trying to dig up information on you two.

However, the PR team is always a step ahead, so before the announcement was made, any source of information that could have caused any sense of discomfort or a scratch on either of you and anyone linked to you both was suppressed, rather buried.

"I can't believe she agreed to do this."

"She's basically digging her own grave."

You eyes move back and forth as the two of your best friends converse about you in your presence, also ignoring your presence.

"And to think Seungcheol wouldn't even allow us in the wedding... He'd kill us as soon as his eyes would land on us..."

"Imagine not being able to attend your best friend's wedding..."

"Mingyu, Eunsoo, stop.", you say calmly, "I'm already stressed enough, so please stop."

Mingyu gets up to take a seat beside you. He doesn't speak, just strokes your hair. You lean onto his shoulder closing your eyes.

"Does Chan knows about it yet?"

You jolt up and sit straight at Eunsoo's question.

"No. He's overseas for sealing a deal.", you tell them, "Also, mom & dad already raised their hands up, so I'll have to inform him myself."

"Well goodluck honey, knowing his temper... it's just worries me.", Eunsoo adds solemnly.

You three sit on silence for some moments before Eunsoo speaks up again, "I'm still skeptical about this whole thing. I mean you both met and made things clear with Mr. Choi but I don't trust that man, knowing what he's capable of doing."

"He is no threat, Eunsoo.", you affirm, "And that is why I agreed to this marriage."

Mingyu who has been listening to the conversation quietly, speaks up taking your hands into his, "Y/N, I can understand why you are doing this. But we know that he's gonna make it so hard for you, not his fault though, he's been scarred.", his hands now lifts up to caress your cheeks, "What I'm trying to say is, if you're going into it then go for it wholly. Don't be defeated, conquer it. Don't give up easily, like last time. Don't let the love of your life go when you got another chance."

You nod wordlessly hugging Mingyu and Eunsoo takes the chance to wrap herself around you both.

Seungcheol laughs in disbelief as he looks at his reflection in the mirror. He thinks that it's a dream, him being about to marry you, the woman he loathes the most. He's sure that it's a nightmare.

He's only doing this wedding with revenge on his mind. With the only motive to make you suffer, to humiliate you.

He's uninterested about the whole wedding thing, which shows. When you had the audacity to ask him to accompany you to the clinic for getting IUD on, he had blurted out a no before hanging up the call. When you had the audacity one more time to ask him to accompany you to meet the patisserie for finalizing on the wedding cake he had declined you then as well. Everytime you asked him to meet to decide on something, he would produce some snarky remarks while rejecting your proposal.

When you see Wonwoo waiting outside your house once again, you roll your eyes.

"I can do it all by myself.", you said unimpressed, crossing over your arms, standing infront of the man, "Just go. I'm tired of explaining people that you aren't the groom."

"Cheol doesn't trust you or your choices at all, neither do I.", Wonwoo says with all menace in his tone, "Plus being his secretary, I'm bound to follow his orders."

Wonwoo as said by the man himself, is Seungcheol's secretary as well as one of his closest friend since university. He was close to you as well once but now he, like his friend, loathes you equally.

You sigh when Wonwoo opens the car door. Another long day you think because Wonwoo has a habit of nitpicking and you're sure the two of friends scheme a strategy everyday to test your patience and defy you as much before stepping out for the day.

Another long day, you think.

The only time you manage to get Seungcheol rather it's Seungcheol informing that you both have a photoshoot together for a magazine. He meets you for an hour to go through over the script that you are supposed to lie through when asked about.

How did you both meet? Same University then lost contact at some point. Is it love marriage or an arranged marriage? Arranged turned love marriage. How did you both fell in love? You both met at a Gala and sparks reignited, then a whole lot of dates. Who proposed? You did, because during one cozy movie night when Seungcheol promptly danced with you on 'Somewhere we belong', you realised where exactly you belonged.

During the shoot, the proximity is what chokes you both. The lovely dovey act, flirty looks and touchy poses had you both, mostly Seungcheol feels suffocated.

Because you want it to be real but Seungcheol wants none of it.

You already know, so during the breaks and slot gaps for costume changes, you try not to be in the periphery of his vision. Which really doesn't work because the whole team is gushing how beautiful of a pair you are and keep on trying to push you two into proximity as much as they could. The shoot goes well, so does the interview because you believe everyone bought the lies you two fed.

When the magazine is released, you two instantly become the trending topic of the nation. You both are literally anywhere and everywhere. People are stanning, people are jealous, people are feeling the love.

It's new for you because your family have always tried to avoid the spotlight and for the Choi's, spotlight is almost an eternal part.

Your phone within your hand rings and you freeze. Taking a deep breath, you recieve the call. There's an ominous silence, no one speaks.

"Hello, Chan?", you speak, deciding to terminate the wait. You hear a shaky breathe then a sigh.

"I'm sorry you had to know this way.", you whisper into the phone sadly, "I didn't know how to tell you."

A beat of silence again before Chan speaks, "There's no way stopping this, ain't it?"

You shake your head knowing he won't be able to see it but Chan gets it nonetheless.

"I'm returning.", he informs, "Get me at the airport on Thursday? That's the earliest flight I could avail."

Concern washes over you, "You don't need to Channie. I know how much work is important--"

"Not more than you.", Chan cuts you off, "Nothing is more important than you. See you soon."

"See you.", you echo before hanging up.

Your chest becomes heavy, suddenly everything feels uncertain. There's a turmoil within that makes you wanna run. Runaway from everything.

But you can't. And you won't.

You call Seungcheol assuming he won't pick up as what he usually does. So after five rings when you're about to hang up, his voice reaches you from the other side.

"What?", he says and you could figure that he's tired.

"Are you free tomorrow?", you ask him hopefully, "Just to remind you, tomorrow's afternoon slot is booked for picking our wedding attires."

"I don't see why we need to go together. You go pick your dress, I'll go pick mine when I feel like.", Seungcheol reasons.

You expected exactly that, so you sort to pleading, "Please, it's my request. I haven't requested you the other times but please please just this once. I beg you.", you end up blurting out in a breath.

"No.", he flatly denies.

"Please, just for tomorrow. Promise I won't pester you again. Please Seungcheol."

He seems to contemplate for some moments before making up his mind.

"Fine.", he says and hangs up.

A wide smile splits on your lips, as you do little fists in air in pure joy. It's so important for you because you want Seungcheol to be the one choosing your wedding gown because once he wanted to do it.

"When we get married, please let me choose the wedding gown.", Seungcheol says with a fond smile, "You'd look so gorgeous in all of them, making it difficult for me."

You wrap your hands around his arm as you ask amused, "Why do you need to do it if it's so difficult?"

He looks at you with all the love in his eyes. He tucks the stray lock of hair behind your ear as he answers, "Because it'll be a privilege to fall for you again and again."

You bite your lips to stop the tears that pool in your eyes when he kisses you the next moment.

Next morning you wake up to Mingyu and Eunsoo both blowing up your phone, just to convince you to let them join you to the boutique and you angrily huffing out a 'that's a given! ofcourse you both would come!'

But the catch is they'd both come after Seungcheol leaves because they both have a fear of their dear lives.

It's afternoon and you're calling Seungcheol because you're in the botique waiting for him and he's late. Seungcheol is punctual, it's weird not having him present here already the moment you reached. He isn't picking up the calls or responding to your texts.

It's been half an hour already, you're anxious as you try to not let the ominous thoughts consume you. Suddenly you hear some commotion outside of the fitting room and expect that it's Seungcheol who'd walk in.

You're disappointed when you see Wonwoo. Your eyes search behind him though in anticipation but no one comes in.

"Where's Seungcheol?"

Wonwoo senses the distress in your voice and it should give him the satisfaction but this time it doesn't.

"He can't make it.", Wonwoo says as he avoids eyes contact.

"Why?"

"Something important came up."

"What exactly, Wonwoo?", you ask gritting your teeth, "What can be more important than this?"

Wonwoo clears his throat, looking everywhere but you, "Jiah is returning from Australia today and she wanted Cheol to pick her up."

Your heart drops. Ofcourse out of all days Jiah would return today and at this time. That trust fund woman would do anything in her will to stop this wedding. Jiah is Seungcheol's best friend who's in love with him and everyone knew except Seungcheol and it was tad obvious. You both never got along for obvious reasons.

And though you're aware but it still hurts to see Seungcheol choosing Jiah over you.

Wonwoo never got along with Jiah as well because she's plain irritating and judgemental and all other bad adjectives one could think of.

"You can go Wonwoo. I'll do it by myself.", you fail to say it firmly, your voice cracks.

He really feels bad as he sees you trying to compose yourself. He wants to console you, wants to say he won't be a pain in ass today but you beat him.

"Please go.", you sound so defeated that Wonwoo doesn't find it in himself to defy it and walks out quietly.

You sit on the couch for some moments. Too early to be heartbroken you think, it's only the beginning and you're prepared to go hell and back to win over Seungcheol again.

Not spoiling your mood further, you quickly call Mingyu & Eunsoo who are sad to hear about Seungcheol not making it but also more than happy to come over to choose your wedding gown.

You certainly aren't the one who needs comforting, not when both of your best friends are almost bawling their eyes out in happiness each time you try a gown and show them.

The wedding date closes in and you wonder if Seungcheol even remembers it because he's absent and his absense is loud.

Your parents are actively participating in the preps but with unwillingness because they want you to be happy and they aren't sure if Seungcheol is the key to that.

So is Chan. He's stressed, worried and in rage for you, because of you.

"Why him?", Chan asks, "How can you even think of linking yourself to that family?"

You sigh, a long discussion ahead you're sure of that, "First of all, Seungcheol had nothing to do with all that. Second, I love him Chan, do I really need another reason?"

Chan scoffs, "But he hates you. And knowing how petty he always has been, I'm scared for you."

His voices quietens when he says, "You won't deserve any of it. I don't wanna see you hurt."

Your eyes get teary and you're hugging Chan. When his arms wrap around tighter you whisper, "I need to try Chan. Let me be selfish this one time. When things get rough you'll be the one to know. I know I always got you, my baby brother.", you smile pulling away.

"Whom are you calling a baby?", Chan huffs, his nostrils flaring dramatically but he returns the smile, "You always have me. I'm just a call away."

You nod, "So what are you getting me as wedding gift?"

"What made you think I'm gonna get you a gift?", Chan retorts, "No gifts since you're marrying that jerk."

You slap arm and he groans, "That's not how you  address your brother in law!"

Chan gags at the mention and next he's getting his head locked between your arms.

"I go out of the country for two months and come back to you committing blunders.", Jiah scowls at Seungcheol.

The man in question doesn't seem to pay much attention as his eyes trace over the words in the document.

"Cheol, are you even listening?", Jiah hits the table surface with both her hands, demanding attention.

Seungcheol sighs and lifts his gaze to look at her. He then leans back and looks up at the ceiling as he speaks, "This is what is supposed to happen after all, isn't it?"

"Are you crazy?", Jiah howls in disbelief, "This was never supposed to happen, she was never the one for you as you claimed, which turned true and goodness it was such a great riddance unless you decided to bring that pathetic excuse of a human back into your life, nonetheless you're marrying her! You should--"

Seungcheol's glare practically shuts her up.

"I have work to do", he states plainly, "It's late, go home."

Jiah gets up and walks upto him. She places her on the handle of the chair and leans to run her hand over his chest.

"I could be such a good wife to you.", she whispers leaning in further, "Our statuses match, we've known each other since childhood. We compliment each other so well Cheol--"

Seungcheol holds her hands to remove them off his chest and turns his face to the other side.

"You're my best friend Jiah. I do love you but it has been always platonic."

Seungcheol was unaware of Jiah's feelings till late, until one night at the product launching party she had too many drinks which made her surprisingly courageous to confess her actually feelings for him. Seungcheol was shocked but being a gentleman he was, he had fully sobered up Jiah before rejecting her. Since then she has been open about her advances, never missing any chances.

Jiah fumes, her gaze is fiery, "So could marry a woman who cheated on you but you wouldn't marry your best friend?"

Seungcheol is ticked off at the mention of past, there's an instant burning in his chest as those painful memories flash at the back of his mind.

"We're done with the same discussion.", Seungcheol gets up and grabs his coat. He walks off and turns back when reaches the door, "I'm going to marry Y/N because I have some scores to settle with her and no one can stop the wedding from happening."

"I have been working on this piece for the last three months and almost got it done", Seungkwan pauses and looks at you with somewhat dull eyes, "But it's not giving me that satisfaction."

You could feel the hesitancy from your comrade and that worries you as well. Seungkwan is your friend from academy days. You had joined a music academy because of having a knack for musical instruments. That's when the realisation had gnawed on you that you'd rather do music and that's where you met Seungkwan who comes from a well established family as well. You had decided not to pursue the family business but rather pursue music. Though your parents were disappointed but they'd never compromise with your wishes so gradually they embraced it. Thanks to Seungkwan who had played a major role in convincing your parents as he had gone through that phase before you did.

Now you both are co-founders of the 'Melodease' music academy. You have always believed Seungkwan to be an prodigy, there are very less instruments that he doesn't knows of or can't play. But he masters in playing piano and your instrument, coin it as coincidence, is cello which goes best with Piano. You both complement each other well, the trophy cabinet in your academy says it all.

The academy is curated by the both of you with passion and care. The faculties, the students as well as the other staffs, all see you both with utter respect.

"You know you could directly ask me to dive in instead of saying these same lines everyday.", you roll eyes and hear a dramatic gasp.

"Stop over reacting, diva.", you speak out as soon as you see him open his mouth.

The diva in question just pulls a neutral expression like a switch flipped and gets straight to the point, "I need you to incorporate your part and well I'd suggest you to work towards the bridge. Just an opinion though, take your time and come up with something."

You nod and ask him, "Do you have to take anymore class today?"

"Nope but I do have to be somewhere today.", Seungkwan quickly adds, "So I'll be on my way now."

Your face falls and it doesn't go unnoticed by him. He steps closer and pays your head fondly, "Sorry Y/N, I'd have skipped it if I could but it's really important."

You squint eyes, "I didn't even say anything."

Seungkwan laughs and turns to collect his belongings, "And since when did you have to speak it out loud for me to get you?"

After Seungkwan bids you goodbye for the day, you pull out your phone and call Seungcheol knowing he won't pick up, unless you call him a minimum of five times. Still that isn't going to stop you so you're calling him and much to your surprise he picks up after a ring.

"I want to meet you.", that's the first thing you say.

"Why?", he asks monotonously.

"You'll know once we meet."

"Fine, meet me at my house in an hour.", he says and hangs up.

"So what did you want to talk about?", Seungcheol asks twirling the glass of wine between his fingers.

Your hands are laid flat on the door to ceiling windows, your eyes trace the busyness of the city that settles at the pit.

A long sigh escapes your lips before you speak, "We're getting married in two weeks."

Seungcheol doesn't respond.

Eyes still trained on the view infront, you say, "Do you really want this marriage, want it as much as I do?"

"I do want it and you very well know why.", Seungcheol scoffs, "And I very well know you want to marry me for my fame and status. You can feed people with all that you love me nonsense, I'll buy none of it."

You let out a bitter chuckle, "Marriages are not meant for revenge, Seungcheol. If we're gonna do it, let's do it right or not do it at all."

"Backing out was never an option, Y/N.", Seungcheol sets down the glass and walks up to you. Standing beside you now, his gaze strains on you. His octave drops as he speaks through gritted teeth, "I'll make you go through the hell that I have been through for all these years because of you. This marriage...", he snickers, "will never mean anything to me. I'll...", he closes you off between the window and himself, "I'll make you divorce me. You'll beg me to free yourself from this so called marriage."

You shudder under his presence as tears keep pooling at your eyes.

"Hope you'll have a change of heart.", you say through tears, "I hope you'd give us a chance."

Seungcheol infuriates upon hearing you, he punches the window glass but you don't flinch.

"Too bad, what you're hoping for would never be true because I know you too well.", and suddenly he backs up.

An ominous silence follows.

Too early to get heartbroken, you repeat again in your head as you grab your clutch and walk out his study, walk out of his house.

It's the big day and you know that nothing is alright but one thing that keeps you at bay is knowing how much Seungcheol wants this marriage to happen, the reason maybe completely different to yours, you can bet on not being left alone at the altar. Seungcheol won't bail out at least.

With all sorts of anything but pleasing thoughts, you are sitting in front of the vanity. Unarguably the wedding of the year, all the influential people of the country as well as from overseas would be gracing their presence. And that's where you are loosing it.

You have never liked the spotlight, always avoiding it. Still you were known well in the society not because of your family business, not as your parents daughter, rather as a musical genius and you are proud of it.

The thought of all those curious, envious and judging eyes that would target you as soon as you walk down the aisle is enough to make you sick.

There's a knock on the door and through the mirror you could see the source that would actually make you sick, Jiah walking in.

Before she could even speak, you cut her off saying, "Lend me a hand.", as you grab your beautiful wedding gown.

Jiah, though agitated, does as asked and when you're stood on your feet, you smirk at her.

"Oh you poor little thing, couldn't stop the wedding after all.", you tut, feigning sadness.

"Do you think your marriage would be relevant?", she fumes, "Seungcheol would never love you."

"Just because you got away with what you did years ago, don't assume you'd get away this time.", you threaten her, "Years ago your plan of breaking us up worked but for what?"

"You will--"

"Even after breathing on his neck for years, you couldn't do shit honey. Seungcheol is marrying me.", the smirk on your lips returns, "Oh and I have been wanting to do this for long since no one's here, I'll spare you some of your non existent prestige and do it now."

And before Jiah could comprehend you slap her hard across her face, strong enough that she stumbles to the side.

"How dare you!", Jiah screams holding her cheek.

"What are you gonna do?", you snicker, "complain to Seungcheol? Sure, go ahead and see if this could stop the wedding from happening."

You take your phone and walk to her, holding it up for a selfie which comes out nice, meaning you look beautiful.

"Get lost now.", you say going back on your seat, "I've wasted enough time on you my special day."

"You'll regret it, Y/N! Seungcheol would never be yours.", she snaps and utters some more nonsense but when you don't lend an ear to any of it and she stomps out.

Mingyu, Seungkwan and Eunsoo walk in some moments after Jiah walks out and you could see their comical expressions through the mirror.

"I have recorded all of it.", Seungkwan says proudly.

"Send it to us", Mingyu says and who is Seungkwan to deny it.

"I recorded what you did as well", Seungkwan says to Eunsoo.

"And what did you do?", you ask turning to look at her.

"Oh nothing she just tripped and fell down because I extended my leg when she was walking past me.", Eunsoo relays casually but you could see how proud she is.

You just smile and sit quietly. Your friends catch on to the mood shift and immediately aid you the comfort. Only after ensuring you're feeling better they leave to check on some arrangements.

It's almost time you think, the uneasiness that has settled at the pit of stomach never goes away.

"Aren't you marrying the love of your life? So what's with that long face?"

Your lips curl up instantly on hearing your brother's voice.

"You got Mom and Dad worried", Chan says lightly, "They sent me saying that it's looking like you're a moment away from breaking down."

"And what if I am?", you say looking down.

"Then cancel the wedding.", he says in a beat with utmost seriousness.

"But you won't do that. I know how strong willed you are.", he continues, "You'll get through all of it.", he caresses your back, "And you know if things get hard, you have us, always."

"Always.", you acknowledge and hug him.

"Let's get going lovely bride, it's time.", Chan says helping you get up and you hook your arm within his. He walks to the gigantic door where your father is standing.

When Chan tries to hand you over to your father for the walk, you don't unhook your arm and your father gets you so he's beside you, with your another arm hooked within his.

The door opens and the three of you walk in. People who know you, know that you are beautiful are taking in how breathtaking you appear to be. People who are seeing you for the first time are starry eyed. People who were unsure, envious are starting to accept that you do complement the nation's heartthrob, Seungcheol.

Your gaze grazes as you walk by. You shake your head at your mother softly when you see the tears falling from her eyes. Smile wide when Mingyu behaves like a puppy wagging his tail as he's beaming with Eunsoo trying her best to keep him at bay. You urge to roll eyes get stronger when Seungkwan mouths you something scandalous and in the next moment goes back to wiping his imaginary tears.

You had saved him for the last gaze because you knew once he's in your sight it, a gaze off from him would be impossible for you. And finally you look at him, your groom, the man who you'd call your husband, Seungcheol.

Not letting the disappointment get to you when you don't find him looking at you already, you reach the altar smiling.

There's an impeccable tension between Seungcheol and Chan and before any one of them could snap your father hands you over to Seungcheol and ushers off quickly with your brother.

It's nothing embarrassing you think, as you gape at Seungcheol. You never thought you'd get to see him this close, get to touch him again. He's close, so close that your heart is thumping. Your fingertips graze lightly as they are wrapped around his arm. You breathe in his scent that you have known so well.

Seungcheol is smiling as if he's so happy. That's enough to fool people but not you. You notice how all those smiles are not quite reaching his eyes, how he's tapping his foot, a habit of his when he's unmindful.

There's a strange vision in his eyes when he looks at you. He even suppresses the urge to roll his eyes when you take the vows. It irritates you but you have to have patience of a saint if you wanna conquer. It's not like you were not warned.

Once all the rituals are done and you are announced as husband and wife, the crowd chants for you both to kiss. You are so sure Seungcheol would find a way out and never kiss you--

Suddenly you're grabbed by your hips and before you can react, you are being kissed, kissed hard by Seungcheol.

You as in whole short circuit but the screaming crowd alerts you back to your senses and as you start to kiss him back he pulls away with smirk.

You cock your brow as you pull him forward by his bow tie and steal a quick kiss leaving him flabbergasted.

Seungcheol smiles leaning in and through gritted teeth he says,

"Welcome to hell, my wife."

→ Do not copy, re-post, translate, or share any of my works on other platforms! All stories are copyrighted, joonsytip. ©️

#withering for you #seungcheol x reader #seungcheol x y/n #seungcheol x you #seungcheol scenarios #seungcheol #seventeen #svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt au #seventeen au #seventeen scenarios #svt angst #scoups x y/n #scoups x reader #scoups x you #scoups scenarios #scoups #scoups angst #seungcheol smut #seungcheol fluff #seungcheol ff #scoups fanfic #svt fic #seventeen fic #seventeen fanfic #svt smut #svt imagines #scoups smut #choi seuncheol

[vcgardenia]

under the moon’s veil (Luke Castellan x Apollo!daughter)

summary: Cora is kinda losing her cookies but in an interesting poetic way! And Luke is totally there for her like Drusilla and Spike or Catherine and Heathcliff.

wc: 2483

cw: angst, lit + greek mythology references, kissing, suggestive content, depictions of insanity, gore and blood

Insanity is doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results - Albert Einstein

It was the dark of night, and Nyx had tucked all the world in his shining blanket of stars. A glistening sky sighed as another day had passed them by- all was sound, and all were quiet… Well, all but one.

Cora tossed and turned in her bed, anxiously anticipating a rustle from the bushes. After an hour of waiting, tossing, and turning some more, she sat up from her bed and stared longingly at the door. Where was he?

The Apollo cabin was dead silent; not a usual occurrence, and Cora could not have been more relieved. She looked around at the drooling, passed out campers around her- trying to scope how asleep they all were before she made any first moves. Her half-sister Heidi had practically fallen off of her top bunk, and Cora knew she had to leave the cabin before that happened.

She stood up from her bed- almost stepping on the baby deer that her half-brother Liam had adopted after he found it stabbed in a clearing. Normally the counselor would’ve said no, but it was a baby deer with a limp… and the head counselor wasn’t a monster.

Cora tried not to look at it. She avoided its presence entirely before continuing on her self made quest. She cautiously slipped on her Crocs- trying to ensure that no rubbery friction from the shoes would give her away. 

Cora tried to steady her breathing, but it was becoming more erratic by the second. He was supposed to rustle the leaves at the bushes at 10, and then Cora would come out by 10:15. It was currently 11:07 and she had no idea where he was. Cora felt as if she was breaking into a cold sweat; she could feel her hands shaking as she thought of the worst. 

What if he got hurt by someone? Or his ship sunk? Backbiter may have stopped working, someone caught him on the way here- thousands of possibilities were circling through her mind.  Cora’s heart was now racing… what if he was dead? 

She shook her head, refusing to believe her own thoughts. Her entire body was shaking at this point, and she knew she had to run out of the cabin before she started bawling. So Cora ran. She sprinted out of the cabin, and off the well worn path, into the forest. As she ventured further into the woods, less and less moonlight came from the sky above; covered by the growing number of trees. Through the tears and flem in her throat, she began to yell, practically scream his name,

“LUKE. LUKE. LUKE WHERE ARE YOU!” She was breaking down into tears, collapsing over herself into a heap of despair. What had the world done to her love?

“Hey sunshine.” Luke appeared from behind one of the trees Cora had just run past. She kept her head down, sobbing into the ground beneath her; more out of relief now than sorrow. Luke quickly knelt down next to her- rubbing her icy cold back with his pleasantly warm hands. With each up and down motion he made, he would make patterns on her back with his delicate yet deliberate fingers. Slowly, Cora was able to collect herself. While her breathing was still erratic, she was no longer wailing so loud the gods could hear. 

“I didn’t mean to worry you baby.” Luke’s face was full of concern and worry for his love. He hid his face in her hair, muffling his next words,

“Can you forgive me?”

Cora looked up for the first time, turning her head around to see him. Immediately she gasped,

“What happened to your scar?” She instinctively held his face in her hands. Luke smirked, giddy from the attention,

“Percy reopened some old wounds both figuratively and literally.” He chuckled. Cora scowled.

“If you had let me go with you this wouldn’t have happened.” Luke took a large sigh,

“Let’s not talk about this right now. I just wanna see you happy.” Cora’s scowl quickly turned into a beaming smile,

“How could I not be happy when I’m with you, my winged Romeo?” She planted a kiss on his wound, longing to make it disappear with some magic touch.

She could tell even by how Luke held her, that he had longed for her touch. His body bent as easily to her will as a stick of puddy at her fingers. Cora wrapped her arms around Luke’s neck; melting into the warm embrace. She missed this. 

When they started meeting up in the woods, Luke would talk to her about his adventures, she would talk about hers. But, over time it just hurt too much for the both of them. Knowing that the love of their life was existing without them by their side. 

These days they would just touch. Making sure no area was undiscovered before the end of the night; it never felt the same way twice. New scars, new bruises, nothing could stop the passage of time. 

“How long can you stay tonight?” Cora looked up at Luke, searching for an answer in his eyes; begging him to stay just a little longer than last time. In response Luke inhaled, looking ahead of her- knowing he couldn’t bear to see the expression on her face.

“So not that long then?” Cora furrowed her brows. Luke dug his head into her shoulder, shaking his head. After sitting there for a little longer, Cora spoke, 

“Let me go with you.”

“No I- you know you can’t. It’s too dangerous.” She looked at him with bitterness in her eyes, shaking her head,

“If you don’t let me go with you Luke,” Cora searched for her words, tears filling her eyes,  “the last time you’ll see me is hanging from a tree.” Cora started getting up, ready to run away from his phony warm embrace.

“Cora don’t say that. Please don’t say that baby.” 

“Do you even love me Luke?” Luke stared at her with the most puzzled look,

“Why are you saying these things?”

In truth, Cora didn’t know. She just wanted everything to be normal again. She wanted them to swim in the lake together; finding the secret passageway that would take them to the stone cave, overgrown with green ivy. He would hold her in his arms, lifting her up to the ledge where they could just sit. She would put her head in his lap and he would caress her features. They would just talk. They could just talk back then. 

But now, Cora didn’t know what had become of them, of her. Luke was crying, holding his head in his hands as he tried to hold back his sniffles. His voice was breaking with the little whimpers that dared to escape. 

Cora thought back on the week before. She had been in the woods and she had taken a knife with her, trying to pick some raspberries for lunch that day. Cora finally found a bush full of them- not often found in these woods. As she began to pick them, her mind started to wander. Of course the first place it went was to Luke- what was he doing right now? Was he thinking about her? Was he safe? Lost in thought she cut open one of the raspberries she had picked. She gasped. The shade of pinkish red perfectly matched that of Luke’s lips. She grabbed more from her basket and continued to cut into more of them. It was incredible; the shade and pigment would’ve blended right into his if he was here. The juices of the previous raspberry escaped into the soil, merging into one as the cycle of reunion began again. Even the juice had consistency to find comfort in. 

She started cutting open the raspberries with more aggravation; almost jealous of their fate. In her fury she had accidentally cut her own hand, instead of another raspberry. The blood was a redder hue than Luke’s lips, but as she looked down, she could see that it too was able to become one with the earth. 

She smiled.

She hadn’t smiled for weeks. Luke hadn’t been visiting, and it had been filling her with more despair than she knew what to do with. But this spilling of blood was the sweet release she had been looking for. She was now part of the cycle; Cora giggled in glee at the thought. Leaning her head back and closing her eyes, she felt a new moisture on her hand. She opened her eyes to see a creature licking off the blood that had finally connected her to something; given her comfort. It had stolen her joy. It had taken the one pleasure she had away from her. Her face snapped into a look of blind rage, and she stabbed it. 

She quickly withdrew her knife, ready to inflict a second blow- then she looked into its eyes. It was a deer. From the looks of it, the harmless animal wasn’t even a year old. Cora quickly took the knife away from the baby’s untouched skin; it had now been drenched in its first bleeding… and it was all her fault.

After that Cora had made sure one of her siblings found it. The counselor let the deer stay in their cabin of course, he wasn’t a monster… but she was.

She had tried not to think about it since then, but every time she looked at Liam’s baby dear, every time she heard someone question what kind of villain would stab such a pure and beautiful creature…

She turned her attention back to the present.

She couldn’t stay and watch as another beautiful being was destroyed by her hands. Especially not Luke. Her Luke. So she ran. She ran as fast as her legs could take her. She could hear Luke yelling for her, but it all just felt like background noise to her. She had to distance herself from the world. 

Cora had learned to be strong in the face of adversity, and she had always been praised for her level headedness- always keeping perspective, being kind and gracious to all. No matter what happened she always kept her light. But Luke was the exception. He was the hamartia that would bleed her soul dry; without even having to try he could undo her.

Luke was searching breathlessly for Cora. He didn’t know what he said or did, but he had to fix it. As he wandered through the forest he pondered- what happened? He should have seen a breakdown like this happening, he had been gone for too long, he should have come back sooner. Should haves and what if’s raced through his mind as he looked desperately for Cora. She was the epitome of perfection to Luke. He felt as if he had ruined her.

He knew it was selfish to keep seeing her even after he chose his side, but Luke couldn’t help it. He had to see her. Luke couldn’t breathe without her. Some days it felt as if they inhabited the same body, he could tell how her day was going just by looking inwards; other days she was a complete mystery. She would blow up and scream at him, and he would still be just as willing to plunge a knife into his chest for her. 

He wanted to have a life with her, have Cora as a witness to everything he did… but he was a disgrace. He was an outcast of her world. He knew it could never be. She would find some man who is deserving of her- and Luke would have to watch just as Heathcliff watched his Catherine. But he searched nonetheless. Because at the end of the day, he knew that he would rather beat his head against a tree than be in a world without her.

After what felt like ages he heard sniffling coming from behind a bush. Luke let out a breath he didn’t even know he was holding as he cautiously walked over to the noise. 

“Sunshine, are you here?” 

“Go away!” Cora still refused to look at him. She was curled up in a ball on the floor and didn’t look up.

“Baby I-” Luke tried to find his words as he sat to meet her eyes. “I don’t have much time left.” Cora finally looked up, staring at his gorgeous curls instead of his agonizing face. “Can’t we spend it together?” It was a plea. 

Cora moved closer to Luke; leaning in more and more until their foreheads touched. She lightly chuckled as she took her hands and placed them on his torso. Luke smirked as he pried her by the wrists away from what she knew was a sensitive area of his body. With her wrists in his hands, Luke pulled them towards him, which left both Cora and Luke mere atoms away from each other. They stayed there for a good minute- allowing the moment to breathe. 

After a while Luke set Cora’s wrists on her lap. He took his thumb and opened her mouth, letting his tender touch linger on her plump lips. Luke couldn’t help but sigh at how beautiful she looked under the moonlight; despite her father being god of the sun. Cora gave a faint smile, still tired from the buckets of tears she had produced. She leaned in ever so slightly, and was easily able to find her way to his lips.  

They didn’t talk after that, they just touched. Cora and Luke didn’t have time to take off each other's clothing as they normally would do, so they had to suffice with lifting up a shirt or pulling down some pants. Cora was gripping at his clothes almost frantically- sensing that time was running out, that their time on earth together was expiring. Luke would often take her arms and put them to her sides; rubbing them in hopes of calming her down. Then, it was time for him to go. They hadn’t gotten enough time that night, they never got enough time. 

“You have to stay here. You’re safe here. Can you do that for me baby?” Luke begged with his eyes. Cora sighed, letting a tiny whimper escape as they were separated from each other’s touch.

“Yea… yea I can do that for you.” She avoided eye contact.

“Hey. Look at me.” She allowed her gaze to wander to his eyes, “I’ll see you soon, okay Sunshine?”

“The sooner the better my winged Romeo.” She smiled mournfully.

Luke walked away and Cora knew better than to call for him. He longed to turn around, just to see her one last time- but much like Orpheus with his Eurydice, he knew he couldn’t. If he turned around, he would lose the strength to leave. He would stay there forever.

#luke castellan #charlie bushnell #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson #smut #lukecastellanxoc #luke castellan x oc #angst #luke caste #luke castellan smut #luke castellan x reader #fem reader #female reader #x reader #orig #original character #luke castellan oneshot #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fanfic #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan pjo #luke pjo #lit #literature #greek #greek mythology #greek tumblr #withering #withering heights

[thelastsirenssong]

I'm thinking of Bakugou's hands. Calloused palms and slender fingers, digging into your shoulder blades as you groan, the act unexpected as he asks you a question with two hands, and two words: "Long day?"

The chair you were sitting forward in is wooden, and his thumb pads are diligent as they are gentle seeking out the knots in your muscle.

The night has dragged on seemingly longer than the day, but you find ridicule in his question- as though you had any right to answer what was posed when one of the hardest working people you know is standing at your bowing spine.

"Not really. Just tired, I guess." You push against his hands, and you turn, to face his offended glare. "What?"

"I was working." You laugh, and his scowl deepens as he grabs you by the shoulders. "Turn back around, I ain't finished." You shake your head, facing the back of the wooden chair- examining the grooves, the lines of what once had been rings of age.

"How about I do yours? You sit?" And Katsuki, for how much he has learned, has not learned patience for the self sacrifice of others. His lip curls up, in a familiar disgust- something you don't see in your peripheral- before he bows his own spine to face you, red eyes mere inches from your own.

"Turn the fuck around." His expression is half as cruel as his words are, maybe even half of that still, but you are determined to not meet his gaze, eyes still on the chair.

"I don't wanna." When his hands cup your face you don't expect it. To be pulled from facing a wooden chair by the soft tips of his fingers is all you need to look him in the eye as he strokes your cheeks with his thumbs.

"'S too bad I ain't askin'. Come on. Turn around." And so you do, with a slow spin, settling back into the chair rigidly with your face aflame as you feel his fingers find their way back around your shoulders, and he squeezes, forcing you to cave into him again.

"Swear to god everyone around here's always gotta act so fuckin' tough." He pushes harder, his fingets finding another particularly vicious knot, and you groan, but he makes no sound behind you. No snort of gleeful scorn, no scoff of impatience.

"I'm not. I'm not acting tough."

"Then you're lyin'." You laugh softly, and if he smiles behind you, you can't see it.

"Fair point." He grunts, and you hiss at his hands as they move lower, pushing closer to the center of your back.

"I'll let it go if you promise you won't try that shit again."

"Promise?" Your voice is strained with disbelief at being held to an impossible standard, and Katsuki rolls his eyes behind you, something else he knows you can't see.

"Fuck, I can't even get that? Fine. Give it your best shot then, at least. Fuckin' useless." Silence, for all that it is worth, fills the air between you for a moment as his hands find the pain in your back, and pull it apart. You open your mouth, and he hears the relief in your voice as he works another knot away.

"I can promise that." "Good." He wonders if you can hear the relief in his.

#night number five thousand of dreaming about bakugou haha what's new #everyone's tired I feel like lmao #have a soft Bakugou whydontcha #I think he's juet the kind of guy to come home tired as fuck and find his partner withering like a parched rose #and he thinks to himself oh no #no I am tired from work but I do not intend to neglect my own garden #king shit #bakugou x reader #here lemme give it tags LMAO

[withered-blossoms]

(Withered-Blossoms) SAGAU Scheming Creator! Reader Imposter AU Part 5

A/N: First and foremost, this AU is by @sena-shi

I do not own this series, nor the idea.

Secondly, I absolutely love this series, it is amazingly written and I would highly recommend checking it out to those who haven't. Third, after reading part 4, I suddenly had a tiny bit of inspiration and I wanted to try writing my version of part 5 of it (this will not affect the original author in writing part 5 of the series, worry not).

Edit: The original author has given me her consent to write my version of this series, admittedly I should have dm'ed her beforehand, and I will never make this mistake again.

Also this is not proofread, so apologies for some typos/spelling mistakes. The word count is 3878 words or so Google Docs says.

Anyways, enjoy :DDDD

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If every year of not being graced with your divine presence acts as a tiny blade that cuts a fibre of the impossibly thin thread known as Zhongli's sanity, then seeing you allowing these.....unworthy, mortal commoners to bask in the holy light you radiate would be the pair of scissors that snips the thread in half.

How dare they, when those foolish mortals are unable and consequently have not worshipped you for thousands of years, flit around you like the pesky flies they were? How dare they, not having devoted their entire being, their entire life, their existence's purpose to you, drink up your attention so hungrily? How dare they take the place that belonged, rightfully so, to him and only him when what they have done for you are nothing but specks of dust compared to the glorious acts he carried out in your name?

So why were you choosing to stay with them? When they have done nothing worthy of your grace? Why were you looking at him with a gaze that carried the heavy disappointment and disapproval that you never voiced? Zhongli does not understand, and neither do the adepti now standing beside him in a neat, uniform line, waiting for their archon's commands.

You find it amusing though. One would think that for someone who has lived for so long like Zhongli, he would be an expert at hiding his emotions and maintaining that mask of cool, indifferent politeness that he took pride in. And yet look at him now, losing that ability and reverting back to a child who knows not about keeping emotions from twisting their features into an ugly snarl.

Ganyu, on the other hand, looked pale and regretful. Under normal circumstances, should such a look appear on a face as pretty as Ganyu's, anyone else would have gone soft and thrown in the towel. But yet that sight filled your heart with this twisted sort of satisfaction. The desire for them to beg and grovel at your feet for forgiveness was thinly veiled behind a mask of betrayal and shock, and you were starting to find it hard not to let your eyes crinkle from the smirk threatening to curve your lips.

Not now, you reminded yourself, it's not the time for your facade to shatter.

And Xiao, your sweet, sweet child, who also happens to be the one responsible for the wound scabbed over on your leg. He, who was so persistent on making sure you were unable to escape, could not even look at your eyes now, amber orbs choosing to lock onto their targets instead. He couldn't bring himself to check your form, not when the chance of your bloody bandages catching his attention was so great.

After all, Rex Lapis needs his finely-honed weapon to carry out his commands now, and he couldn't break down in front of his divine creator. He's already shown such a horrifying part of him to you, one that slaughtered and knew nothing else, he would really go insane if you started fearing his more unsightly sides.

You would have applauded Morax and his little clique for the entertaining display of emotions had the boat not started to rock even more. It truly was a shame that they did not take up Sichuan Opera face-changing; they would have done so well even without the masks.

Meanwhile, Beidou was busy commanding the crew and making preparations for a possible tsunami, and Kazuha was ready to scoop you into his arms and bring you under deck. You, however, were not willing to miss this act, and thus stopped him by placing a hand over his. Temporarily ignoring how he froze up and blushed, you turned to the defenders of Liyue.

You could tell that the only reason why Zhongli kept up the intensity of the earthquake was because Xiao or the Cloud Retainer would immediately pluck you out of the ship before it was swallowed by the massive waves, but would you really just let yourself be taken to Liyue like this? Before even seeing the famed Inazuma? Of course not, after all you still had to see how Raiden Shogun, the one you personally raised alongside Zhongli, would react after seeing your face.

Choosing to let the winds carry your seemingly heartbroken words to their ears, you muttered, "Are you.....here to capture me? Is Liyue really unable to tolerate my existence?" And oh how much delight their flinches brought, especially the one coming from the ever-composed Geo Archon. Upon hearing your words, the group dropped to their knees, the seabed stilling as apologies and pleads spilled from their lips.

Beidou and her crew on the other hand though, you really got to give it to them. As if sensing your intentions to leave quickly, they took the chance to sail away as quickly as possible, with the winds guiding the ship. And of course, you were not going to let their efforts go to waste, choosing to keep the crazed adepti at bay with your sorrowful words.

"I've already given you my word to stay out of your sight, Morax. I apologise for breaking my promise to you, and if Liyue wishes so, I will disappear here and now. However, if you are still willing to listen to me, then I wish not for any harm to befall on these kind souls." You sighed, motioning to the Alcor's crew.

You weren't dumb; you could practically see the sparks forming from their clashing gazes. Beidou and Kazuha's were filled with hatred— disdain, even— and the adepti's a beautiful mix of hesitation and jealousy. What a wonderful sight it was, seeing the high and mighty adepti almost grovelling at your feet, and watching them struggle internally between their twisted desires and your commands.

The quirk of your lips was getting harder and harder to hide even behind your veil, and you had to turn your head before you burst out laughing at their foolish attempt at redemption.

But even the turn of your head was planned, not that they needed to know anyways. You know their rotten brains will just automatically decipher this action as a small try to hide your disappointment. Adding the facts that Zhongli had made you cry and Xiao had wounded you personally into the equation, the tides would no doubt turn to your favour.

Seeing how Zhongli's grip on his weapon tightened then loosened, you knew you had won the bet. He could only keep his head down low and motion for the adepti to retreat while stilling the earth, though his burning gaze stayed on your form until The Alcor all but disappeared into the horizon. He simply couldn't risk you leaving Teyvat for good, not when he finally had you in his grasp, and so he will wait patiently for the right time, just as he had for the past thousands of years.

"It is time for our divine grace to take back their throne." He muttered, the adepti bowing when they realised what his words entailed. He knew they would not run their mouth in front of the others; this was a matter only for the adepti to know. Not long after, Zhongli was left alone, the others returning to their posts and duties. He watched as the Alcor gradually disappeared from his sights, vowing that he would bring you back no matter what.

And with that grand finale, you finally left Liyue.

The journey to Inazuma was relatively pleasant, save for the terrifying thunderstorms at the lower-half of the trip. But eventually the ship docked, and you saw that familiar teleport waypoint where you once met the capable and friendly housekeeper named Thoma, except that he was nowhere to be seen this time. Oh well, it does not matter, he is probably at the Kamisato estate, waiting for his Lord's commands as usual. What was more important was playing your part as the kind and benevolent creator, and so you turned to the crew and smiled sweetly, thanking them for getting you to Inazuma safely with as much sincerity as you could muster to make it more convincing.

Travelling along the streets, without a friendly local guide this time, you could not help but subtly glance around. From the game, you always knew how the locals here treated foreigners, but experiencing it yourself turned that knowledge into the understatement of the year. It wasn't just overcharging you to a ridiculous degree; there were also the stares that never seemed to leave your figure and the whispers that revolved around you as if you were the eye of a tornado.

But it matters not. As long as they don't stop you from "vacationing" in this gorgeous nation, then you won't pay any mind to their actions.

However, this time the plot happened faster. You had no idea just how The Shogun managed to grasp the news of a fake creator being present when she was so....closed-off from the world, but clearly she had some amazing news sources. The streets were filled with even more patrolling officers than you recalled, and even the people on the streets had taken to scattering when the Doushin came around.

Well, this was clearly not a good time to be a foreigner huh? Because a Doushin was already heading your way, and in a condescending tone had asked for your identity, or any documents related to it. You did not have any, though this time even Kazuha could not save you with his smooth-talking, which in fact seemed to annoy the officer more.

Instead, the officer reached out to remove your veil, but Kazuha wasn't going to let him. Half because he knew you were going to get taken away, and the other half was due to the slight possessivenes swirling in his chest. Why should he have to let other people be graced by your beauty and light?

Although shielding you from the guard did seem to wear his patience thinner than the thread that made up Zhongli's sanity.

Sensing Kazuha's worry when the officer roughly grabbed your arm to take you away, you slyly patted the back of his hand and shook your head, putting on a comforting smile and whispering for him to go back to the Crux.

Despite his initial hesitation, you knew he'd listen to you anyways. After all, he couldn't fight the Doushin here and risk getting his kind, caring and benevolent creator injured or even exposed here could he?

Hence he retreated, hungrily drinking up your sweet smile as you were dragged away. He feared that this might be the last time he'll ever see of you and so he did his best to engrave the soft and beautiful curve of your lips into his memory as he went back to find Beidou.

You, on the other hand, weren't too worried. After making sure you had fooled Kazuha with a convincing smile, you opted to follow the guard instead. He was essentially your one-way ticket to the Raiden, so why not? Even though you would have to be thrown into a prison cell, you supposed that it wouldn't be the worst thing on Earth.

In the end, you will be the one seeing their arrogance and triumph morph into an amusing combination of regret and desperation anyways, and you certainly weren't in a rush to speed up the process.

".....Is this the order of The Shogun?" You asked, knowing that he most likely weren't going to give you an answer, but you still have to keep up the role, which was as fake as they had deemed your identity to be. So, you let out a seemingly self-mocking chuckle.

"First Mondstadt, then Liyue, and now Inazuma. It would seem that I am truly not wanted by my children. But at least they look happy and content. After all, even baby birds leave their nests one day...."

Muttering to yourself, you didn't miss the slight flinch from the officer, though it only earned you his panic, hidden behind a harsh shove into your cell once he's done reporting to his higher-ups.

"Do not act like you're the real creator, Their Grace may be forgiving and benevolent, but we certainly will not be merciful."

He snorted and walked off. Good lord, you have never seen anyone as arrogant as that. And of course you weren't complaining, it just makes their begging afterwards more.....satisfying, wouldn't you agree?

That doesn't make your time in the cell any more pleasant though, seeing how they saved the worst one for you.

You didn't have to wait long though, since it only took an hour or two before Kujou Sara was standing before you, peering down at your curled up form as if you were the most repulsive being she's ever laid her eyes on.

Instead, she settled for ordering the guards to free you from confinement and had them escort you while she lead the way to the Shogun's residence. Sara spoke not a word to you as usual, and you busied yourself with looking around subtly while keeping your head low to mask your lack of fear. The scenery was more beautiful than what you had seen in game; the colours were more vivid, and even the lavender melon that hadn't looked appetising were practically tempting you to take a bite out of their orchid bodies. Unfortunately, you didn't get to take in the beautiful view a little longer, for they had already brought you into the Tenshukaku.

It would seem that Raiden is eager to meet you, seeing how swiftly her subordinates dragged you to the Tenshukaku. Upon entering the room, your eyes landed on the puppet sitting serenly on her throne, eyes closed and meditating. Hah, what a nice facade to disguise the anger practically radiating off of her.

You weren't scared though. After all, even dogs don't bite the hand that feeds them, and you could easily take back everything you've ever graced them with.

Thus, 'long time no see, my strongest battery.' was your first thought, though you could not let that spill past your lips. Hence, you let out a small but sweet smile and mumbled in the sweetest voice you could let flow from your vocal chords.

"How have you been, Ei?"

The archon in question slowly opened her eyes, elegant and refined as always. Although, from the fury burning in her purple irises alone, you could already tell that she wanted your existence to cease, and that if it weren't for the fact that the creator had asked to bring you back alive, you feared she may have slashed you with her elemental burst right here and now.

You could sense how the Doushin and Sara froze upon hearing you address their archon by her real name. However, before Sara could reprimand you, a look from Raiden sent them bowing and leaving the room. And now, it was just you and her.

You were just wondering why she demanded to meet you alone when a thought popped up in your brain — could it be that because she couldn't execute you personally without the other archons present, she wishes to hurt you in a non-lethal way instead? Seeing the confirmation in the lilac eyes you once found beautiful, you almost let out a snort. My my, who knew that the almighty Raiden Ei was actually such a sadist?

You refused to let her hurt you though. How dare they hurt the actual divine being who had given them life and created this beautiful world for them to live in for a mere phony? How dare they give you scars just because they were too ignorant to see who's the real deal?

With that in mind, you raised your eyes to meet hers, yours ever so subtly showing the galaxies they hold, and hers slowly filling with slight confusion when she noticed the depth of your orbs. It did not hinder her from holding her precious sword to your neck though, so you cut her off before she could speak.

"You mentioned that when we meet, you wished for us to enjoy some tricolour dango together along with the finest tea you have. It is such a shame that we had to meet like this." You smiled, keeping your gaze and voice level as you took in every change in her expression from suspect, to shock, to disbelief and finally distrust.

"....I do not know how you dug up that information. It matters not, for that only applies to their Grace. You are but an imposter who is undeserving and yet seeks to take over the throne, and I shall not be deceived so easily. Since their Grace is too kind to the likes of you, I will take it upon myself as their loyal devotee to punish you for your atrocious attempt."

Before she could lift her blade, you grabbed it with a hand. You thanked the high heavens that it was as sharp as you hoped it to be, since you did not have to dig the blade too deeply into your skin for your blood to show. You weren't willing to leave scars because of their foolishness after all, and God knows that those maniacs would be more delighted knowing that they had marked you in some way, albeit under less ideal circumstances.

The two of you watched as the ichor slid down your arm before one, two, three drops of it splattered onto the pristine white clothing you had. It shimmered an ethereal gold before being absorbed, and Raiden had finally gone still for once. You could almost hear the non-existent gears turning in the puppet's head, where a brain was supposed to be, and before you could react, she had gently removed your injured hand from her blade and tossed the sword aside.

Kneeling before you, she fretted over your injury while keeping her head low as Zhongli and the adepti had, desperately trying to heal you. Frantic apologies flowed from her lips like a river, and she panicked slightly more when she noticed that you were still bleeding. She was selfish, not wanting others to know about your existence, but your well-being and health eventually won the mental debate taking place in the puppet's head.

"Your grace, I did not realise it was you. My sincerest apologies for being ignorant, and I am aware of how unworthy I am to touch you but I beg of you, do let me heal your injuries before you decide to take your anger out on me." Having said that, she called for Sara to bring a medical kit, and the lady swiftly came in worth one in her hand. She showed neither shock nor regret as she helped the Shogun patch up your hand, though you supposed that it was only normal considering the number of years she's had in learning how to keep her emotions from showing on her face.

Huh, even a short-lived mortal is more capable than long-lived archons in this aspect.

You were tempted to stay and see how Ei and Inazuma would react and repent for their sins, yet the beginnings of an earthquake warned you to leave quickly. Your time in the Tenshukaku was almost up, so you quickly grabbed a brush and paper and left a note for a certain angy dragon. Or maybe it was an angy Teyvat, you didn't know. Just in case it was the former though, you could only hope that a note would prevent the people of this gorgeous nation from being decimated.

'Morax, I wish not for the citizens of Inazuma to face your wrath. With that, I hope you spare them from death and suffering alike.'

The note was short and sweet, as you had liked. There was nothing else to say to him anyways, so you rolled up the paper and turned to Ei, placing it into her hands.

"If you wish for your people and nation to live on, pass this to Morax if he arrives. Do not fight, your people should take priority. I'm terribly sorry for ruining your eternity, but it seems that you are favoured by luck itself, for my time is up." You lifted the corners of your lips into a gentle curve as you patted her hand.

You really were too kind, so benevolent and so bright that Ei could not believe her eyes nor ears. Her people watched and talked about you behind your back, dragged and tossed you into the filthiest cell they had, and she herself had injured you personally. She wanted to make it up to you, to proceed and lavish you in the best luxuries Inazuma, no, Teyvat could provide. She did not want you to be absent from her side, so why was it that even though you were in her hold now, it seemed like you would disappear any second?

What did she have to do to make you stay? Did you want her heart? Her head? Or should she injure her hand the way she had injured you? Tell her, what did you want from the Raiden Shogun? She would give you everything and anything, from her eternity to the stars in the sky. So why? Why did you still want to leave? Why not stay with her for eternity?

Seeing the crazed looks in those purple orbs, you removed yourself from her tightening grasp and avoided her attempts to hold onto you to ensure your stay. You still had to visit either Sumeru or Watatsumi Island anyways, and being held in captivity was not a price you were willing to pay. You knew that she could and would easily pull you into her consciousness, and you sincerely did not want to live your life there.

Reminding yourself that, your eyelids fluttered shut and you let the wisps of power engulfing you take you away, finding yourself in front of the Alcor again. Technically speaking, you also did owe the crew an explanation for your sudden disappearance and some reassurance, the sudden hug from Kazuha only proving you right. Even though you weren't close to him or Beidou, you still felt a little guilty when you realised that he was shaking.

To make it up to him, you patted his back and offered Beidou to join in on the hug, which she appeared to accept begrudgingly but you knew better, especially from the way her shoulders sagged in relief. Once they had both calmed their nerves, you ushered them back to work. Despite them questioning your next destination, you knew it would be impractical for them to sail to the other nations with you, and teleport waypoints were a godsend. You told the two that, and as disappointed as they were to not be able to accompany you, they still respected your wishes unlike a certain duo, possibly trio, which you greatly appreciated.

Hence,for the first time since arriving in Teyvat, you gave your first genuine smile, making Kazuha swoon internally and Beidou turn away in order to hide her burning cheeks. You were very well aware that the archons could possibly see this, though you weren't worried. In spite of the lightning flashing in the background and the rumble of the earth, you knew that they wish not to end up in your bad books just for a few mortals. Having confirmed the safety of the people who had helped you, you could finally retreat to your room on the ship and decide your next destination.

Now, where should you grace with your presence next?

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