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all-mirth-no-matter · 1 year

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Time After Time | Chapter Twelve

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x Reader, Tommy Shelby x Original Female Character

Summary: You suffer through the repercussions of Christmas morning, a new year begins, and Polly provides some interesting insight.

Warning: language, smoking, ethnic slur, yelling

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Chapter 12: Nobody Knows

So help me find my way, the way I came from. ‘Cause I’m feeling lost and afraid, you better not be too far gone. Oh, have I been so wrong? Missed the song? Still I don’t know where I belong. No I don’t know. Because no one really knows me, at all. — Nobody Knows, Autograft, WYNNE

You ran through the garden toward the temple, sure the sacred grounds would bring you some solace. “You betrayed me!” You shouted behind you, tears pouring down your face.

Closing your eyes, you once again saw the shower of arrows fall from the sky, then a plague of sickness run through your lands. You saw death on the sands of your beaches, fires raging through the cities. You felt the whips and thrashes of pain across your body, the screams surrounding you until you fell to the floor with your hands over your ears.

“Cassandra.” The beautiful voice of your love boomed from behind you. On your knees, you opened your eyes and you were back in your palace, the peaceful night continuing as it had before. You turned, peering up at the figure, the moonlight illuminating his features.

Weak, your voice came out in a whisper. “What did you do to me?”

He smiled. “I blessed you with a gift of my own rarity.”

You shook your head, the tears still falling down your cheeks until you could taste the salt. “I’ve seen your arrows — how could you?”

“Cassandra—“

“Back!” You voice stronger now as your fear fueled your adrenaline. “I didn’t want this! How could you do this to me?”

He reached out to you, “Our future is together—“

A sob left your lungs as the images wouldn’t stop from behind your eyes. “All I see is destruction. Demise. Death. How could I love someone who allows such things to happen?”

Patience turned into anger. Your god stood to his full height as the rage froze his eyes. “If you don’t want our future together, then you’ll have no future at all. I curse you, Cassandra!”

——

“You in there love?”

You gasped awake, eyes searching around you as you tried to determine where exactly you were. Slowly, your brain began to recognize your surroundings.

Tommy’s room felt different than it had before. You looked down at the bed, evidence in the tussled sheets of where you’d finally fallen asleep — but the bed and room was otherwise empty.

A soft tapping brought you back, the door opening slowly as Polly poked her head in.

“They’ve just gotten back,” she said, taking in your obviously confused expression as you finally sat up on the bed fully.

You looked to see the open bottle on the nightstand accompanied by two empty glasses and the cigarette case you’d given him. That’s when you began to recall the events of the night.

“I need you,” Tommy had whispered with his forehead pressed against yours, your legs in his lap as he held you against him.

For a moment your brain tried to determine how exactly he meant that — was it business, pleasure, or something more. The way his lips pushed against yours swept the thought away, and an involuntary “I’m yours” came out as a breathy reply.

His grip tightened in response, soft touches turned needy as your fingers worked on the buttons of his vest, his on your dress. You were in just your slip, him in his trousers, when you fell to your back against the mattress, pulling his body with you.

“Tommy!” A shout from the other side of the door accompanied by an urgent knock caused you both to gasp away from each other. “We got trouble!”

Tommy jumped off the bed as your head fell back against the pillow, a huff leaving your lungs. “This has to be a cosmic joke at this point, I swear—“

He hushed you as he grabbed his gun from the holster on the hook before cracking open the door.

“It’s Russel. We’ve been fuckin’ had,” you could hear Arthur from the other side of the door, Tommy standing in the way of the crack to keep you hidden, though you were sure his disheveled state was evident. “Put ‘our cock away and get dressed.”

Tommy shut the door, running his hand through his hair as he turned back toward you, already offering him his discarded shirt. “Fuck,” he swore, pulling you into him for another searing kiss before he finally pushed away and took the shirt. You smirked as you watched the material cover the red smear from your lipstick on his neck and collarbone, internally groaning that he had to leave now, just when things were finally getting somewhere.

You shook your head, trying to get it out of your vagina and back into the realities that something bad must be happening.

“I was worried this would happen,” Tommy muttered as he pulled his shoes on. “Fuckin’ coppers.”

Standing up, you reached for your dress that’d pooled on the floor next to your shoes.

“What are you doing?”

Your brow creased, “Getting dressed, I should go home—”

“No,” he cut you off, grabbing the dress from your hands and throwing it over the arm of the chair. “I’ll walk you home when I get back, but you’re safer here.”

“You think I’m in danger?” This copper wouldn’t know your involvement in the situation, you couldn’t reason why tonight would be any less safe than any other night you’d walked home from the Garrison.

“Don’t know, but I’ll think straighter knowin’ you’re here with Pol and the family than out there,” he answered, securing his shoulder holster and checking the round of his revolver. “Sleep,” he added as he threw on his jacket. “I’ll wake you up when I get back.”

And with that, he left. You’d tried to stay awake as long as you could, your neediness for him slowly turning into worry the later it got. Eventually, you’d fallen asleep.

Finally catching up to what Polly had said, you looked out the window to fully recognize the beginnings of sunlight. “They just got back?”

“Aye, they’re in the kitchen. They’re alright, just beat a bit.”

Your eyes widened at her words, prompting you to scramble out from the covers and hustle toward the door.

“Oi, get dressed first!” she snapped, stopping you as she gestured toward your discarded dress still on the chair. “You go down there in this slip of a thing and you’ll give ‘em all heart attacks. There,” she added, helping you finish the buttons and manage your hair.

She turned back toward the door and reached for the handle. You took a step, ready to follow her, but stopped when she paused before turning the knob. Your brow furrowed as she turned back toward you, her eyes doing a quick scan of your face.

Suddenly worried that the situation was more dire than she’d let on, your heart began to race faster. “What are you—“

“You care for him, truly?” she asked you, this time her eyes not leaving yours as she waited for your reply.

You opened your mouth to answer, but closed it when your throat felt suddenly thick, and you swallowed instead.

“I pity you then,” she said when you didn’t answer, then turned back toward the door. “Come on, now. Let’s go figure out what the bloody hell happened.”

Polly lead down the stairs, your brain ping ponging between what state Tommy and his brothers might be in after being out the whole night, and why the older woman would pity you.

Your over analysis came to a halt when you both finally breached the kitchen doorway, your eyes immediately finding Tommy.

The first thing you noticed was the bright red splattering against his white collar and shirt. You followed the trail from his neck to his collarbone, bright red blood replacing where your dark red lipstick had been just a few hours before. Swallowing, you examined the rest of him — his knuckles were beaten, the sleeves of his shirt a mixture of smeared blood and dirt stains. But other than a deep cut on the hood of his cheek bone and the early signs of bruising along the jaw, he seemed to be okay.

You let out a relieved breath as your eyes finally met with his, knowing he’d been watching you as you took him in. The white of his eyes were red, causing his usual brilliant blues to appear icier than ever. They were wild, feral even, like nothing you’d yet seen.

“Fuckin’ hell, Ada!” Arthur shouted, causing you to finally break your stare and address the room fully.

“Shut up, you’ll make it bleed again!” Ada shouted back, shoving a soaked cloth to the piece of Arthur’s lip that was split pretty badly.

Next to them, John held another cloth to his nose to stop the bleeding, a similar sign of a bruise against the edge of his eye that’d birth a nasty shinner by the end of the day.

“What the bloody hell happened?” Polly asked, throwing Tommy a wet cloth as he began to clean off his knuckles.

“Russel was sellin’ information to the sloggers in Digbeth,” Tommy replied, throwing the cloth aside and reaching for the box of cigarettes in the middle of the table.

“Fuckin’ double dealin’ on the both of us,” Arthur added, hissing when his lip began to bleed again. Ada smacked his arm and pushed the cloth against him.

Tommy took a long drag, “They found out first, tried to use him to lure us into a trap. When our men went after him last night, they were waitin’.”

“Any dead?” Polly asked, starting the kettle — acting as if she’d asked a perfectly normal question.

“Not any of ours,” John answered proudly. “They held ‘em off ‘til we got there.”

“Got a few ‘fore the rest went runnin’ with their cocks ‘tween their legs—“

“Shut up, Arthur!” Ada shouted when his lip began to bleed again.

Polly handed you a cup and you realized you hadn’t moved, still standing just on the perimeter of the kitchen. Tommy was still watching you as the family talked.

“And Russel?” Polly asked, pulling out one of the family books.

“Dead,” John answered, “Charlie already took care of him and the others. Left some of the boys to man the territory ‘til we can clean ‘em out for good.”

“We’ll need lodgings for our men in the area to establish a stronghold. And you’ll need to get to the other coppers on our payroll,” Polly added, scribbling in the book.

The conversation faded into the background as you met Tommy’s eyes again. Expecting the wildness of when you first walked in, you were surprised to see his expression softer now. You’d always been so good at reading people, but Tommy had been an enigma to you since the moment you laid eyes on him.

He stood, and the motion snapped your brain back to the company of the room. “Come on,” he said, walking toward you and reaching for your back, only to clasp his hand and pull it back to himself. His jaw clenched as he instead moved toward the door, “I’ll walk you home.”

You looked around, everyone sort of half watching as you and Tommy left the room. You hadn’t said a word since you left Tommy’s bedroom, and truthfully you’d have no clue what to say anyway.

Your mind was still trying to come up with something when you and your escort made it to your apartment, faster than you expected. Because it was still so early, the streets were as quiet and bare as they’d ever be. You were about to invite Tommy up to your apartment, not ready for your time together to end, when he finally spoke up, cigarette still between his teeth.

“Best to stay away from the shop for a while. Polly or Ada can bring you the books to audit here.”

Your brow furrowed as you crossed your arms. “Why?”

He took a puff before pulling the stick from his lips, his eyes looking everywhere but to you. “Because I say.”

“Tommy—“

“Because I fuckin’ say, alright?” Tommy’s eyes snapped to yours, the harsh tone in his voice forcing your back to straighten. “I pay you for a job and you’re gonna fuckin’ do it the way I tell ya, eh?”

The verbal assault had you stunned, but you quickly recognized his words for what they truly were. He was speaking to you the same as he had in the wagon knowing it’d upset you, but this time there was no sign of an apology, or something vaguely adjacent. He was purposely pushing you away, and the thought turned your confusion into anger.

Where had the vulnerable man who’d held you not more than five hours ago gone?

Throwing his cigarette butt to the ground, Tommy turned to leave.

“What the hell happened to you last night?” you asked softly, mostly to yourself.

He rounded back on you, his eyes wild once again as he raised his voice. “This is me, Y/N! This is who I fuckin’ am. Now you’ve seen me, and you’ll stay away when I tell ya to.”

Your mouth snapped shut as you held eye contact for a moment longer, despite the burn you felt behind your own. His turned from wild, to remorseful, to cold once more before he turned to leave again, this time not looking back.

Now you’ve seen me, you repeated his words in your head as you watched him walk down the lane. He thought you disapproved, or you were disgusted, with the surlier side of the Shelby business.

Was he wrong?

It wasn’t like you were sensitive or anything to violence. With the way it was woven into most forms of entertainment in your day, it was hard to avoid — whether it was in video games, tv shows, movies, or even sports, you were no stranger to both real and fake injuries. But there was something different about seeing the Shelby brothers in person all cut, bruised, and bloody, knowing how they’d gotten that way that made you realize how different this was from anything you’d been exposed to before.

And honestly, you weren’t sure how you felt about it. Of course part of you was scared, for both yourself and the people you’d come to care for here. Meanwhile, the other part of you tried to rationalize that this was the way of the world, or at least the Shelby’s world. You’d learned a long time ago that the world wasn’t black and white — that there were shades of grey that were circumstantial and layered in intent and values and point of views.

While you didn’t know yet the full backstory of how the Shelbys came to be where they were now, the little information you did know painted an understanding that part of the circumstances with Tommy was grounded in some way with survival against poverty, racism, classism. There was a road the Shelbys had traveled to get where they were now, and you knew that part of it was paved in violence.

You watched as Tommy finally disappeared from sight, swallowing thickly as you retreated with a shaky hand into the building.

——

The next week went by quietly. You’d followed Tommy’s instructions of not coming by the shop, throwing yourself instead into the pub. You found yourself reverting back to the habits you’d made prior to meeting Tommy — though this time you had one more thing to obsessively overthink about during the quieter parts of the day.

Luckily, the pub was busier than ever. Factory worker strikes were growing more rampant, and a common group seemed to find base in the Garrison booths right after the whistles blew. After a few days, you overheard one of the men call another “Freddie” and turned in time to see the greeting and identity of Ada’s mystery man and Tommy’s former best friend.

You didn’t let yourself linger, not yet sure what information Ada had told him about you, so you continued on with your business as usual. But you still allowed yourself a few stolen glances and discrete eavesdropping out of pure curiosity.

Aside from that, the holidays also played a role in the Garrison’s popularity as you geared up for New Years Eve, a night Harry anticipated would be three-times busier than it had the year previously.

The work was good though — not only did it keep your mind busy, but it kept your body tired, which made sleep come easier. That, and the fact that your dreams seemed to stop — something you didn’t necessarily notice right away.

And yet, even with all your work and distractions, you still found yourself every night expecting to see Tommy walk through the pub doors.

New Years Eve night was the first instance where you caught a glimpse of any Shelby family member since Christmas morning. The crowd was so thick both you and Harry found yourselves working behind the bar. You heard rather than saw Arthur barrel through the door, shouting something about needing a drink to wash away the shit show of a year. You tried to listen closely to the voices to see who was with him, but the crowd volume was too overwhelming to zero in on. Harry had jumped at serving the snug himself, none the wiser to your inner turmoil.

You were trying really hard not to act as pathetic as you felt when a body pushed through the wall of people against the bar. For a moment your heart leapt, thinking it was Tommy, but deflated when they fully turned to face you.

“Hey beautiful,” Benji greeted, wide smile on his face as he leaned against the counter.

“Harry’s already over there to serve you boys,” you answered, giving him the server-smile you’d been dawning all night and gestured toward the snug in between pouring glasses and trying to retain shouts of orders from the others at the bar competing for your attention.

He shook his head, “I just wanted to come say hi. Busy night, huh?”

The poor boy was trying to small talk while you were running back and forth behind the bar. You swallowed your annoyance with a mirthless laugh and shrugged your shoulders, “Whatever gave you that idea?”

He laughed, and you were sure he was saying something else, but the sound of John’s laugh through the snug window caused your attention to shift. You glanced in time for Harry to move out of the way of the window, eyes landing on Tommy, who was sitting between his brothers with a set of cards in his hands. When his eyes shifted, possibly to look through the window himself, you turned back toward the crowd of people. You didn’t want him to catch you staring at him, your pride still wounded from your last encounter.

Benji’s voice calling your name brought your attention back, nearly forgetting he’d been there. “Did you hear me?”

“Um, no, sorry Benji,” you apologized while waving an acknowledgment to the man who shouted for rum on the other end of the bar top.

He chuckled, “I’ll try again when the crowd lessens.”

Doubt that, you said to yourself as Harry fell back behind the bar with you. You chanced a glance toward the window, but the door was properly closed now, causing you to both sigh in relief and disappointment.

The night ended with the crowd shouting with the sound of the church bells signaling midnight and the beginnings of the new year. Last call came an hour after that. Without you realizing, the Shelby and Peaky Boys had slipped out of the pub some time before closing, and you felt your heart break pathetically at the realization.

Not that you had any expectations, but you’d come to enjoy the feeling of being a part of something recently. And to not even get a hello from any of them made you feel even lonelier than ever.

Well, not counting Benji. Who also hadn’t come back like he said he would.

And now you were officially living in the year 1919. For a brief moment when the realization hit you while cleaning up for the night, you nearly expected something monumental to happen space-time-continuum-wise.

But the rest of the week went by just the same as it had before New Years. You were five days into the new year when you got to talk to your first Shelby since Christmas.

Ada arrived at your front door Sunday morning with two company books concealed discreetly in a bag. You didn’t bother asking how she knew it was your day off and instead embraced her warmly.

“Tommy said to not let you and the book out of my sight, but d’ya mind if I sneak out here to see Freddie while you work?”

Your brow creased at her question, slightly surprised at the vote of no confidence from Tommy — as if you needed a chaperone to do the job you’d been doing for months now. “Oh, uh, no, that’s fine. I finally saw him at the pub last week, been meaning to tell you.”

Ada’s eyes widened as she grinned, pulling you to sit with her on your bed. “What’d you think? You didn’t say anything, did you?”

“Of course not, I didn’t even talk to him. Just overheard him in a booth with some other guys. He seemed nice though.”

“He is,” she sighed, almost dreamily, and you shook your head at your friend despite the smile on your own face. “I just wish he and Tommy weren’t still at odds. He still won’t even tell me what they fell off about.”

You hummed in consideration, “Would them being close again make it easier for Tommy to accept you being together?”

Ada shrugged, “Dunno. Possibly.”

“Well, don’t waste any more valuable time with me,” you gave her a friendly shove off the bed, causing her to smile again.

“Thanks, I’ll be back in a few hours!”

After she left, you settled at your small dining table and dove in.

The books were telling. The holidays seemed to be a very good time for the betting shop, which made sense you supposed with people trying their luck to make as much money as they could before the year end.

The family books, however, were even more telling. New contacts had made an appearance, both as payers and payees, most of which seemed to be located in Digbeth. By the books, it seemed the Peaky Blinders had officially expanded into the new territory and there was no sign of slowing down.

You finished the audit just as Ada returned, leaving again promptly and promising to see you later.

——

Another week went by, the pub crowd slightly smaller but still lively enough to keep you busy. Benji showed up again about half way through the week.

“I was hopin’ to take you to dinner sometime,” he finally said once you served him his drink.

You blinked, “Like, a date?”

Immediately you panicked — did people use the word date nowadays? It was the boyfriend conundrum all over again and you were kicking yourself for not having learned more about historical slang or word use.

Benji didn’t seem bothered by your use of phrase, instead shrugging. “Or we can go see a new picture.”

“Oh—”

“Or both,” he said with a chuckle and friendly smile. “What’ya say?”

“Um, I’m— I’m not sure,” you found yourself answering, surprising yourself.

Since your first meeting with Benji, you thought you’d be in this position at some point, and at the time knew firmly that you’d have to kindly turn him down or express your disinterest in anything romantic with this guy.

But now, you found yourself reconsidering. Benji hadn’t been anything but nice and friendly to you since meeting. Sure, the conversations had been flat, but that wasn’t necessarily his fault — you hadn’t really given him much to work with due to your own reservations.

And maybe you’d been too quick to judge with the whole stealing from the company thing. The optimistic (and pathetically lonely) part of you could convince yourself that his math really had just improved over the months, and he didn’t actually have any nefarious intent.

It didn’t hurt that he was quite handsome. You were surprised he didn’t have someone already.

And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to actually agree to go out with him nor turn him down completely. “It’s just I’ve — I’ve got a lot going on right now.”

Benji nodded, still offering you a smile as he set down a coin for his drink. “Maybe another time?”

“Yeah,” you said noncommittally, finally giving him a genuine smile of appreciation.

He smiled back before leaving, giving you a wave as he walked out the door.

At his absence, you found yourself feeling guilty, thinking of what Tommy would think if he found out you were going on a date.

You shook your head — to hell with what Tommy thought. You couldn’t keep up with what may or may not have been going on between the two of you.

It was astonishing when you realized exactly how little time you and Tommy had actually spent together. The time span between that first night at the Garrison and Christmas morning accounted for less than five days. And yet within that time, you’d made out with the man four times and nearly slept with him twice. You felt more connected with him than you’d ever felt with anyone before. And not to mention you’d been tempted to tell him your big secret — hell, Christmas Eve night you’d basically shared the majority of it, just without the time travel aspect.

All that to say that the total time you’d spent with the man had been tiny in relation to the bigger picture, and yet you could not get him out of your mind. The longer you went without seeing him, the heavier your heart grew and the antsier you became.

What the hell was the matter with you anyway? The last time you’d been this strung out over a guy had been in high school when your hormones were running rampant and you had absolutely no self-awareness or all the finely honed self-respect you’d built up over the last decade. You weren’t a teenager — you were too old for these flighty and fruitless games. If the man didn’t want to be with you, (or if all he’d wanted was to sleep with you) he should just tell you.

And now he’d all but banned you from his presence it felt, and your feelings of hurt had officially transitioned into anger.

Why the hell shouldn’t you go on a date? If you were going to be stuck here, why not have a little fun?

“Benji?” You called, just as the door was starting to close. It opened, and he popped his head back into the pub, his brow up in question. “Dinner might be nice. How’s next week?”

——

That Sunday, you were surprised to see it was Polly at your doorstep with the books.

“Morning, love.” She greeted you, shoving the two books into your chest as she walked past you into your apartment. She took a seat at your dining table and began to take off her gloves with a huff, “Ada’s run off again, leaving the book transport to me. Not sure why I’ve got to stay here with you the whole bloody time, but when Thomas insists—“

“Did I do something, Polly?” You asked finally, unable to hold it in any longer as you sat down across from her and set the books on the table top. “It’s like Tommy doesn’t trust me anymore.”

Polly shook her head. “It’s just been chaos with the Digbeth move, that’s all. Half our men are split, leaving the betting shop more vulnerable than we’d all like. It’s nothing you did. Got any tea?”

Her words were encouraging, but the way she dodged her eyes and reached for her paper half way through still gave you that unsettled feeling. She lifted the paper to begin reading, a silent end to your conversation. Taking the hint, you silently poured you both some tea and began your work.

But the back of your mind still churned as you went through the monotonous steps of math and pattern checking. Despite Polly’s reasoning, you still felt like you were being punished for something. You felt a level of guilt beneath your mountain of other emotions because despite all the secrets you had shared with Tommy, there was a pretty big one that you still hadn’t shared. Perhaps he’d finally grown tired of waiting, or had officially decided against trusting you after all.

You physically shook your head as you moved on to the second book, shaking the thought away before you tailspun into a hole that you weren’t prepared to dig yourself out of while company was here.

The thought made you look up at Polly for a moment, who was still reading through her newspaper meticulously.

“Polly, can I ask you something?”

She didn’t look up from her newspaper, “If it’s about Thomas, I can’t help you. That boy’s as unpredictable as ever nowadays.”

“It’s not that. It’s—“ you hesitated, unsure exactly how to approach the situation. Polly lowered her paper and rose an eyebrow. “You told Tommy you thought I was born gypsy.”

She folded up her paper and set it on the table. “I did.”

“Why didn’t you just ask me yourself?”

“It wasn’t my place.”

Your brow creased, “But you told Tommy.”

“I made a calculated decision at the time.”

You hummed, nodding as you looked down, then back up. “I’m not related to the Delphi,” you said tentatively, watching her face as you went on. “At least I don’t think so. To be honest, I’m not even positive if I have any Romani blood in me. I don’t really know anything, still.”

Polly didn’t respond, instead sat there in silence as she waited for you to continue.

“You told Tommy that I had a gift. All because of my tattoo and because I guessed the date of the end of the war—“

“That’s not the only reasons,” Polly added, your eyes shooting up to meet hers. “I read your leaves.”

Your brow creased, “My, what?”

She nodded to the cup in front of you. “Your tea leaves. It’s always been one of my gifts to read tea leaves.”

“Perhaps you should talk to Pol,” Tommy’s voice from the other night triggered your memory. “She’s always been more in tune with that side of things, she could offer you some guidance.”

Your eyes drifted to the nightstand, where you knew the small box Madam Despoina had given you was buried beneath your clothes in the drawer. You hadn’t touched it since you put it there, but the square lump was the first things your eyes snapped to whenever you opened the drawer.

“Wait, isn’t there like an official process to reading leaves?” You countered. Teas and tarot cards were some of the maneuvers your mother had tried to learn herself — but of course when she couldn’t come up with the outcomes she’d wanted, she’d go out and pay ‘experts’ to do her readings for her. Still, she never found what she was looking for.

The years of built up distrust for anything divination relation was causing you to tense at the conversation, but you forced yourself to really listen to Polly.

“You always swirl your tea before you finish it, haven’t you noticed?”

You hadn’t — but now that you thought about it, you realized that you did. You hated the taste of the grains of leaves at the end of your cups, so you always absentmindedly swirled to try and get them to stick to the edges.

“What did you see?”

Polly began to explain a few of her early readings, how every sign pointed to heavy seer powers and a deep concentration to the far future, though something was always just off about every reading. “They began to change after the war ended, once you’d met Thomas. His changed too.”

You swallowed. “Tommy didn’t mention that.”

“I didn’t tell him.”

You asked why.

She chuckled, “It wouldn’t have meant anything to him. He doesn’t believe anymore. Deep down he might, but not enough to have convinced him to let you continue working for the company. That your time with us, with him, weren’t over yet.”

Despite yourself, you scoffed, “You sound like Madam Despoina.”

Polly smirked. “Did you find what you were looking for with the Delphi?”

“Sort of,” your eyes moved down to your hands. “Madam Despoina believes that speaking to my mother will help.”

“I thought your family—“

“Dead,” you answered. “Yeah. She gave me something she said can help me talk to her one last time. I haven’t — I can’t bring myself to do it.”

Polly hummed as she sat back in her seat. “We do believe that those who have left us can visit. Some have the gift to see them, even speak to them. But it can be dangerous. Once you let the spirits in, any spirits, it can be difficult to get rid of them.”

You nodded, taking her words to heart as you absorbed the information. “I— I’m not a fortune teller. But I do have some knowledge of the future. It’s— it’s complicated.”

Polly’s chin and brow rose. “Have you told Thomas?”

“Yes. Everything that I can tell.”

Polly nodded. “Then you’ve got nothing to worry about, love.”

You took a deep breath. “Then what’s with the freeze out?”

“It’s his way of protecting you, I assume.” Polly picked up her paper again. “You did react quite poorly Christmas morning — and the boys weren’t even that banged up. Still surprised none of them were shot. You’re going to need tougher skin if you choose to continue with this life. And I wasn’t lying before, the boys have been nonstop since the holidays. Poor Martha can hardly handle it.”

She lifted the paper between the two of you and you took the signal again to mean the conversation had ended.

You ended the final book audit having only run through what Polly had said twice. She rose to leave and collected her things. You were curious if she was going to grab your cup, but didn’t give it another glance as she walked toward the door.

She turned, “Part of tougher skin means defying Tommy’s orders every now and then. It’ll be just Martha and I tomorrow at the house with the kids. We miss you.”

With that, she gave you a pointed rise of her brow and left.

You smiled as the door closed, feeling rejuvenated. Fuck Tommy and his orders, you thought, lifting your chin up the same way Polly had. You had your pride, you had your own agency, and you could go visit your friends if you damn well wanted to. Two and a half weeks had been enough of a freeze out, you decided.

Tomorrow, you’d go back to the Shelby household. And if he showed up, you’d confront Tommy and tell him exactly how you felt.

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angel-of-the-moons · 11 months

Note

Could you do some possessive Baraka x reader? :)

BOY CAN I

Mine

Baraka x Fem!Reader

TW/CW: NSFW, SMUT, Jealous!Baraka, sex, voyeurism (?), exhibitionism (?) unprotected sex, feral/predator, primal sex, biting (c'mon we've all seen this man's teeth), blood play (sort of), breeding kink, slight Kanon fudging for plot reasons

MINORS DNI I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR CONTENT YOU CONSUME

🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩🥩

You were his prized possession, an Edenian who wanted to learn more about Tarkatan culture and customs. Who better to learn from than the leader of the clans, Baraka, who had the good graces of Kitana Kahn?

You studied them well. From your tiny village, you'd only ever heard stories of them, or encountered the occasional raiding tribe that tried (and failed) to pillage your homes.

You knew they were nomadic, that much was a given considering how rarely your own people interacted with them.

But you always wanted to know more. Now that Kitana Kahn brokered a peace with them, you pleaded, as an imperial scribe, to study them. (And oh, boy, learning about the Ritual of Blood was very interesting.)

She agreed, believing that the people learning about one another would bring everyone closer together.

Little did she know that it would bring you and Baraka together as well.

You found out about the so-called Time Merger, what Kotal Kahn had done to his people, and what the Titan Kronika promised him in return. In spending long hours listening, conversing... Until it morphed into him glancing at you longer and longer. Imagining how your soft flesh would be so pliant in his large, leathery hands. How sweet you would taste.

It made him salivate at the thought of tasting you.

It started out with the courting rituals, bringing you freshly hunted meat, weapons, muttering soft, raspy words in his native tongue.

You had a few relationships in your long life, but none ever lasted long.

Whereas many were hesitant, or reserved, Baraka pledged himself to you wholly, "proving" he was good enough to be your mate.

And... Yeah. You gave in to his passion, so intense that your mind could barely catch up. More than once that passion wound up with you having gravel and sand embedded in your knees, bits of desert scrub clinging to your hair as he pounded into you from behind, grooves and scratches in your skin where he'd grazed you with his claws and fangs.

Sex with a Tarkatan? Intense was the tamest word you could use to describe it. Feral was one of the others. It was rough, primal, full of pure animalistic need to not make love, but to mate; to claim you. And you'd be lying if you tried to deny it and say you didn't enjoy it.

At least a little...

The marks he would leave on you, he would go on to explain, were to ensure other Tarkatans would not dare make a move on you. However, those outside of their tribe didn't understand. Yeah, explaining to Kitana Kahn what the marks meant was... awkward to say the least.

Where Tarkatans knew to leave you be, other Outworlders and Earthrealmers did not. Males especially would gaze at you with lust-filled eyes and stand far too close for his liking.

It was after one such situation, where an envoy was sent to administer some supplies as a gesture of goodwill to the tribe that Baraka was particularly set off.

One of the men in the group decided to flirt with you, lean in and give cheap compliments in hopes of getting you out of your clothes, to sneak away for a moment of unsatisfying carnal want.

He knew you were loyal, but something about the way that you smiled and genuinely laughed at one of his jokes had Baraka seething with rage. He could feel the blades in his arms flex and shift, wanting to rend the flesh from that soft, weak little man's body.

But he waited until the man's feeble attempts at courtship ended, before he dragged you off the moment the sky blackened and stars twinkled high above.

"Baraka! What--?" You were interrupted by a deep snarl; and Baraka pinned you against a boulder, inhaling deeply your scent. A mixture of his musk and the scented oils you fancied. But now, it was tainted by that foul man's stench.

It was like silt and mud staining a perfectly glassy pool in a desert oasis. He would not tolerate it.

"I can smell him on you." His gravelly voice tumbles out against your skin, his hot breath and bits of saliva dripping onto your shoulder.

"I don't like it."

You barely had a moment to think before his hands gripped the front of your tunic, and with a hard tug, ripped it right down the front, exposing your breasts to the cooling night air.

"Baraka! Someone will see us!" You hiss at him, moving to cover yourself, looking around in a panic.

It was one thing for him to pin you down and fuck you somewhere secluded, hidden, or even in his own tent...

But you were far too close to the camp and the envoy for your liking.

"Let them see. They need to know you are mine." He snarled, pinning your hands on either side of your head as he leaned in once more, scraping his jagged fangs over the flesh of your throat.

He licked at your skin, briefly, before moving up to your lips and shoving his tongue inside mercilessly, threatening to choke you out of your oxygen. For added measure, he took your bottom lip in his teeth and bit hard enough to puncture and cause a small rivulet of blood to drip down your chin, making you whine as he licked it up, before shoving his tongue back inside your mouth to tangle with your own; the sweet, coppery flavor of your blood invading your taste buds.

He pulled away, leaving a sloppy trail of saliva to mix with your blood as his hands fell to your hips, gripping you tight, the spikes on his arms tearing into the soft fabric of your dress as he tugged slightly.

You could hear the seams ripping beneath his claws as he did this.

You let out a gasp when he parted your thighs with his knee, and he grabbed your hand, forcing you to palm his fattening cock that hung beneath his trousers.

"I will make sure they know you belong to me. That you're mine." He said to you.

You felt your mouth water and your cunt flutter at the promise of having him inside of you.

You could see spittle dribble down his chin as his nostrils flared, his red-gold eyes focusing on you with all their intensity.

"I can ssssssmell you." He said, his voice rumbling lowly and hotly against your throat.

He shoved his hand beneath your skirt, chuckling madly when he discovered nothing beneath, feeling how wet you were already.

"Hrrr." Baraka hissed. "Don't lie to me. You've been wanting this all day."

You tipped your head back, biting your lip hard to stifle your moans as Baraka teased your folds, wetting his hand before he forced two of his fingers inside of you, mindful of his claws as he curled and twisted them, stretching you out.

"Be a good girl for me." He hissed, abruptly pulling himself free and aggressively licking his fingers clean while staring directly into your eyes.

You whimpered, then, when he gripped your hips and spun you around with dizzying force, his hand between your shoulders, forcing you down until you were practically bent in half in front of him. Baraka hiked your skirt up over your hips and spread your legs wide, pussy glistening and wet. All for him.

Only him. He just needed to remind you of that, and he would, he made sure of the fact as he tugged his trousers down and freed himself.

He gripped the base of his cock with one hand, taking a moment to line himself up. You had to bite into your knuckle to swallow back the wail that tried to rip from your throat as he thrust inside of you, cramming his hard cock deep within you, the tip harshly slamming against your cervix in one animalistic thrust.

Some Tarkatans mated for life, and he definitely wanted to keep you. No other weaker male would have you. He wouldn't let them. He'd slaughter them first.

He pulled out, leaving only the tip of his cock, before snapping his hips back into you, a short yelp bubbling out at the force, feeling the air in your lungs leap with the ferocity of his pace.

You bit back your sounds, not wanting anyone to overhear the two of you as Baraka relentlessly pounded into you, fucking more and more of your slick down your legs, dripping into the cracked, sandy ground below.

Baraka had no such compunction. He was quite the opposite.

He wanted someone to hear you. For them to know how good he fucked you, how he took care of you. How he satisfied you.

And god, was he doing an amazing job.

Every thrust had your mind going blank, vision fuzzy at the edges.

He brought his hand around your front, viciously swiping at your clit as he pummeled your guts ruthlessly with his dick, knowing full well you were close to cumming, he was just trying to bring you to that delicious edge quicker.

Your walls fluttering around him, you finally choked out a sob as he fucked you through your orgasm, hot tears rolling down your cheeks as he bit down on your shoulder, lapping up the blood that welled up from the punctures.

He bullied his cock into you faster, and faster until he couldn't take your pussy squeezing him any longer, snarling and snapping his jaws at the air as he emptied every last drop of his seed into your greedy womb.

He hadn't heard of a Tarkatan breeding with an Edenian, but he was certainly not above trying with you. He brought his hand up from your aching and throbbing clit, to rub at your belly with a deep rumbling laugh coming out of his throat.

You panted, legs wobbly as he kept you pressed against the rocks; the only thing keeping you upright were his hips and hands pinning you there.

His hot breathing ghosted your sweaty skin, cold against the moisture that dripped down your body, soaking the remnants of your dress.

A deep rumbling emanated from Baraka as he lifted his head, turning to the side. You couldn't see him, but you knew he was smiling, a wild look in his eyes.

It wasn't until you lifted your gaze to look at what amused him so, that you realized.

The man from the envoy was standing there, a torch in his hand. He had apparently heard the noise and came to investigate.

You turned away, burying your face in your arm with shame.

You felt Baraka snap his hips to yours again, making you sob quietly into your arm at the fresh wave of pleasure.

Baraka laughed as he started fucking you again, his expression slightly unhinged as he rocked you with each jagged thrust.

"She's mine, little man. Go back to your little camp fire."

#mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat smut #mortal kombat 11 #mortal kombat #mk baraka #baraka #baraka mk11 #baraka x reader #baraka x you

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miamochi-writes · 1 year

Note

Hi! I’m the one who requested the Vash x reader and Wolfwood x reader scenarios of them having nightmares. Thank you so much! You wrote it so beautifully, my heart couldn’t handle how cute and sweet it was! 💖

I wanted to request if you could do the same thing but how would Vash and Wolfwood react separately to the reader getting hurt by someone? Bonus if you write for Knives too? The way you write him is so beautiful too 😭💖

I'm so glad you liked it! <3 And I can definitely take a shot at this :) Hope you like it :)

The Guys Being Protective

Vash

The minute this man finds out you're injured, your well-being is his first priority. He needs to know that you're okay before he decides his next move. If it is a minor injury, like a bruise or no bleeding, he'll probably let out a sigh of relief or give you a quick kiss. Vash is more likely going to caress your face or hold you very close to him without hurting you. He's thankful that you're still breathing and still by his side. Yet, he will remind you to be more careful next time. Vash has already lost many important people in his life, and he's not going to lose you too.

Although, if this injury is serious, Vash's fight-or-flight is going to kick in. He is going to make sure you're out of harm's way and that you get the necessary treatment possible. If anything, he'll try to patch you up with what he has available or rush to find someone to take care of you immediately. Vash is already restless that you're hurt, but would be devastated if your condition got worse.

If you even dare try to brush off your injuries as nothing, you're going to make him feel worse. He's only okay with him doing that to others, not when you do that. He's already beating himself up that you got hurt under his watch and that he didn't prevent it. So be sure to give him lots of cuddles and kisses to reassure him before he spirals. Make sure you tell him that he's not at fault and that you stay by him no matter what he says. He's been through so much, so you comforting him and showering him with kisses should do the trick.

Afterwards, he's going to ask you who did this to you. This man will find and go after whoever hurt you. Because if Vash finds the culprit, this person needs to run for their life. Vash may be Love and Peace, but that goes out the window if anyone hurts the people he loves and cares about, especially when it comes to you. He values you way too much. If he catches the culprit, Vash will make sure they don’t hurt you again. If this person gave you minor injuries, Vash will try to warn them not to do it again. But if that fails or if this person gave you serious wounds, Vash will use his fighting skills or his gun, (no killing obviously) I’m sure of it.

Let me just remind you, this is the same man who took out a good chunk of the Badlands Boys when the people in the Sand Steamer were under attack. Don't forget, this is also the same man who threatened E.G. Mine to disarm the bombs or else he'd make sure he wouldn't get away unscathed. Have you seen Vash angry? He may be babygirl, but he will punch, fight, chokehold, and bite whoever hurts you. Period. Vash will fight for you and your safety until the end of time.

Nicholas D. Wolfwood

If Wolfwood finds out you got injured there's a bunch of scenarios of what could happen. But they all to lead one thing, him beating the hell out of whoever laid a finger on you. It doesn't matter if you got a bruise, scratch, cut, wound, or mark, this man is going to be worried sick about you. Despite how cold, stoic, or teasing he is, Wolfwood has a big heart for you. He's cares way too much to brush off your injuries. Although after a minute or two, this man will be seething with rage. No one hurts you and walks away it.

Of course he's going to check up on you and see how bad the damage is. If Wolfwood finds out you're lying about the pain or hiding any other injuries, his anger is going to boil over. Not at you, but at the person who did this to you. But, he would rather you tell him honestly. Wolfwood has the biggest soft spot for you and would hate it if you lied about being fine. This man has already lost Livio, and he refuses to lose you too.

This man is invincible, but you're not. He knows you only have one life and he's going to make sure you live it to the fullest with him. Once Wolfwood is done looking you over, he's hunting down the person who did this to you. He's going to give you the: "I just want to talk to the person is all." Which means, "I'm going to beat the living shit out of this person."

No one messes with The Punisher and his loved ones. Just remember that this man carries the heaviest and deadliest cross weapon in No Man's Land. So imagine the beating this person gets once Wolfwood finds them. It doesn't matter how much they run, Wolfwood will find them and make sure they know what happens if they hurt you or anyone else again. Let's face it, Wolfwood is not going to let this person live unless you or Vash stop or convince him.

Once Wolfwood settles things with the person who hurt you, you're not leaving his sight. He's going to be taking care of you to the best of his abilities and making sure you get plenty of rest. This man will need lots of reassurance from you that you're doing okay so he'll be sticking by you a lot more. Probably going to cling onto you with hugs and kisses and giving you his lollipops. Call him Nicholas from time to time in private and this man will be putty in your hands.

Knives Million

Knives is someone who rarely wears his heart on his sleeve. But if it involves you, he'll only show his feelings in private with you. So imagine what is going on with Knives internally when he finds out someone hurt you. That stoic face? Gone. Composure? Shaken up. His blades? Ready to cut someone up with no hesitation.

If you're a human, Knives knows that humans are delicate and don't live long compared to him. If he sees a cut or a minor scratch, he'll tell you to be mindful of your actions. He knows those kinds of wounds will recover in no time. However, if he even sees a bruise, any deep cuts, or bleeding, Knives is not going to let that pass.

If you're a plant and Knives finds out someone hurt you as mentioned above, there's no stopping him from seeking revenge. Knives will send Con'rad to tend to your wounds. If Con'rad doesn't do a good job of patching you up, the plant will have a long and menacing talk with him alone. If you can bring joy, solace, or even fill the lonely void Knives has within him, of course he's going to hold you in high regard. You are beyond special to him and will make sure no one lays a finger on you. Or rather, make sure no one takes you away from him.

Knives will demand you tell him who did this to you. If it was someone from outside his humble abode or lower ranking men that hurt you, he's going to off them immediately. Plus he never liked most humans, so less people for him to worry about. However, if he finds out it was one of the more important men like Legato, Con'rad, or any other high ranking follower...good luck. He's probably going to make their punishment slow and painful. Knives will reiterate what happens if they dare even hurt you and that they should consider themselves lucky that he's keeping them alive. He’ll probably make an example of someone if he catches them hurting you again.

Once he's done taking care of things, Knives will go check up on you to see how you're doing. He will take time out of his schedule, more importantly his alone time, to see you. Knives needs to know that you're doing okay and healing from your injuries. If you visit him while he's playing piano, he'll beckon you to sit with him and play you a song. If you try to play along with him, you're going to brighten this man's day.

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snorky · 10 months

Note

Hi how are you?

I was hoping you could write something with Vince? Angst and fluffy ending? Please ❤️

Hold Me Close, And Never Let Go

Hey y’all, and hi to the lovely person who requested this Vince Dunn angst and fluff story. I'm doing well, and I hope you all are too. The pronouns for the reader in this story are they/them (so if you want it changed, let me know *directed at the lovely requester*). I’ve been busy recently, and so I apologize for this request coming out a little later than I wanted. I hope you also all enjoy this fic, and take care of yourself!

Pairing: Vince Dunn x GN!Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Angst, Stressed reader

—

Heavy storms raged outside their Seattle apartment, the rain pitter-pattering against the windows as they tried to focus on their work. Thunder snapped now and then, and the wind seemed to whistle in the air as a warning.

The paper in front of them was taunting them, a blank page with no answer. All the numbers, letters, formulas, instructions, whatever it was, just didn’t make sense. It was all an incoherent mess to their tired eyes.

Deadlines were chasing them, yelling, screaming at them as if the time ticking down like sand slipping away through their fingers.

The pen in their hands seemed to be ticking them off at every moment. Ink flowed inconsistently, slipping on the paper in the wrong direction, scribbles and scrawls seeming to be the only thing that marked up their page.

A knock came from their door as they were lost in thought.

“Baby? I miss you.” He called out from behind the door. “Can we cuddle together?”

It had been so long since they heard Vince’s voice, gentle compared to his figure. As badly as they wanted to cuddle with him, they had work to catch up on and do.

They just wished he could hold them, telling them that ‘it’s alright’ and ‘you’re doing lovely,’ to calm the storm of stress in their mind. The storm seemed to mirror the outside weather that was rampant, windy, and rainy.

Instead, they sighed, almost in irritation. “Can’t. I’m working.” Even though they mumbled, their voice still cracked, amplifying their exhaustion.

“Please.” The door creaked open as he came in, his steps careful as he walked towards them. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you,” he said quietly. “It’s been so long since I’ve even heard your voice.”

The storm continued outside, a flash of lightning followed by thunder disrupting the silence in the room.

Taking a deep breath in, it felt uneven, irritating them further. “Vince, I need to get this done,” they groaned. “Leave me alone for a bit.” Their voice came out much sharper than they had intended, and it was evident when a look of hurt appeared on his face.

He stood there in the middle of the room in silence, looking at them, arms crossed over his chest. They turned their head and looked at him for a brief moment, noticing how sad and disappointed he looked when they said that, and a pang of guilt struck them as they turned back to their work.

“Why.” He sounded hurt, his words came out so emotionally and yet empty and hollow all at once. “Why can’t you just rest with me for a moment?”

They thought about it in silence for a bit. The deadlines seemed so sudden, and the pressure to keep the expectations high was suffocating. Their body felt worn out, tense, and exhausted.

Turning to look at him, tears welled up in their eyes, blurring their vision. “I don’t know,” they croaked. “There’s just so much—”

Vince walked over to them, crouching down to be lower than eye level, and rested his hand on their shoulder. “You need a break.” He pleaded. “Okay?” His voice was always gentle with them, even when they both were upset or hurt. He never spoke louder than he had to, ever.

They finally let out a sob, exhaustion catching up to them, tears streaming down their face as they leaned into his arms. His hands braced them, holding them close as he carefully moved them off of the chair and onto the ground in his lap.

Their breaths were rough and ragged, uneven and unsteady. “I’m sorry,” they mumbled, sniffling slightly. “I’m sorry for getting upset at you.”

“It’s okay, you’re alright. I know you weren’t feeling the best and that you weren’t in the right state of mind.” His words were genuine, smile sweet as ever.

Vince being this kind to them, even when they were upset, made them cry more at how sweet he was. The tears continued to fall, running down their cheeks, their nose now stuffy and irritated as they cried.

“Shh, it’s going to be alright,” he soothed. His thumb rubbed small circles into their back, their face hidden in the crook of his neck. “Stay here with me, just for a bit.”

They both remained like this for a while, on the floor together in each other’s embrace, the storm calming down outside to a gentle rainfall. His deep breaths steadied them, a solid rock in the ocean that never seemed to move in the most hectic storms. Despite the tears continuing to run down their face, they remained silent for the most part, taking breaths in every now and then.

He hummed softly into their hair, pulling them closer to his body as he did so. “Let’s move to the bed, alright?” Pressing his lips to their forehead gently, he spoke, “We just need a quick nap, that’s all.”

Tears welling up in their eyes again, the kindness and patience he showed never failed to disappoint them. He never once upset them or made them feel bad about themselves. He was always caring and sweet, he was always perfect in their heart.

“What’s bothering you, sweetheart?” His hand went up to their face, cupping it gently in his palms as his thumb wiped a tear away.

They shook their head, choosing to remain in silence in fear that if they tried to speak, their tears would start to fall again, unending.

“It’s okay, we can always talk about it tomorrow, okay?” he spoke softly.

Keeping his arms wrapped tightly around them, he got up and walked to their shared bed. Setting them down gently on the bed, he then got in bed and lay down beside them. He then pulled the covers over both of them, encasing them in the soft, thick blanket.

“Cozy, baby?”

They nodded in response, scooting closer toward Vince under the blanket. He wrapped his arms around them, holding them warmly as one of his hands held the back of their head as they rested it on his chest, the stress slowly crumbling away.

It was just the both of them, just him in their world at the moment. The deadlines faltering away somewhere else, the stress melting away as he held them close.

“I love you,” they mumbled quietly.

He gave them a gentle peck on the top of their head and smiled sweetly at them. “I love you too,” he said. “And I’ll never stop loving you, baby.”

They smiled at his words, and before they could start tearing up again, he peppered soft kisses all over their face, making them let out a small laugh. “That’s what I like to hear,” he hummed.

#nhl #hockey #nhl hockey #nhl writing #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey imagine #vince dunn fluff #vince dunn x reader #vince dunn imagine #vince dunn #seattle kraken #seattle kraken imagine #vince dunn angst

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confused-pyramid · 1 year

Text

Damage is Done

pairing: rafe cameron x pogue!reader

summary: You and Rafe hooked up when you first moved to the OBX, and he hasn't been able to get you out of his system ever since.

word count: 8.6k

warnings: SMUT, slight dub-con, p in v, fingering, overstimulation, oral (f!receiving and m!receiving), hair pulling, choking, dark!rafe, toxic relationship, drinking, vague discussions of mental health

The air feels hot and humid even as the sun sets on the first day of summer. The annual start of summer bonfire is just getting underway, and you can already feel yourself starting to perspire. Not even your bikini top and denim shorts are small enough to keep the heat away tonight.

"Where the hell is JJ with my beer?" you grumble as Kiara takes a seat on a log next to you. "I'm melting over here."

Kie, who hasn't even started to glisten, just laughs. "That's what you get for being from out of state. All of us locals are used to the heat by now."

You feign a laugh and shove her shoulder. "You're hilarious. I've been living in the OBX for two years now, when are you guys gonna stop giving me shit for being from Boston?"

"When you're no longer from Boston."

You look up to see JJ and Pope, the first of whom hands you a full cup of metallic beer. The first time you tasted beer from a keg, you spat it out after a single sip. Since then, you've grown to love the taste of metal.

By the time you down your cup, the party raging around you finally starts to get exciting. You spot John B dancing with some girl who's clearly here on vacation, and watch as Pope stares longingly at Kie...who is staring at JJ.

Shaking your head, you stifle a smile and head over to the keg to fill your cup again. When you arrive, the line seems to go on forever, so you turn around, looking for something different, or a bit stronger.

"Looking for something?" a voice calls from next to you. You turn your head to see a shirtless Rafe Cameron holding up a bottle of whiskey. "Hey, Boston. I'll pour you a finger if you ask nicely."

Perfect. Just who I need to see today.

"Just give it to me, Rafe," you grumble, reaching out to grab the bottle. Humor dances in his eyes and you gulp, hating the fact that you are still affected by his bare skin.

He pulls it away at the last second, making you stumble forward slightly. He's much taller than you, and you have to tilt your head back to meet his eye, but that's how he likes it.

"I said nicely," he grins, holding the bottle out again.

Rafe can see the anger growing behind your eyes, and it builds the excitement in his own. He's only seen you mad on a few occasions, but that was when you were the most fun.

You roll your eyes, tossing your empty cup at his feet and shaking your head. "Whatever, Cameron. I'm not playing this game with you."

You turn and start walking across the sand to your friends, when a hand grabs your wrist and spins you back around. "Rafe, what the fu-"

"We need to talk," he mutters under his breath as he leans in close - too close.

You take a step back and put on what you hope is your most menacing look. "We are never talking about what happened, okay? Ever."

This time when you storm off, he lets you, and you make your way back to your friends, hoping they didn't see any of what just occurred. When you sit back down on the log next to Kiara, JJ's spirited recounting of a time when he stole a six-pack lets you know that you're in the clear.

***

You are waiting for JJ to finish his shift at the docks when you see Rafe again. He is grabbing something from his yacht when he catches your eye, and you look around for a moment before deciding that making a break for it would draw too much attention.

He takes his sweet time walking over, and you squint against the bright sun as he finally stands in front of you.

"Finally stopped avoiding me?" he taunts, his voice low over the heavy breeze.

You laugh humorlessly. "I'm not here for you, Rafe."

"You're on my side of the island."

Of course that's how he would see it. The separation between Kooks and Pogues is something you still have a hard time wrapping your head around, but each interaction has made it clear that you may be the only one.

"I'm not doing this with you," you sigh loudly, turning to see if JJ has appeared yet. "Just go back to your fucking yacht and let me live in peace."

Your words are laced with malice, but he can sense the tension hidden under your tone. He gives you a once-over, taking in your skimpy tank and shorts, and frustration flares behind his eyes as he realizes just how much you have started to look like all the other Pogues you hang out with.

"So it's about the money," he says, his voice slowly ramping up as he speaks. "If the only reason you can find to hate me is my money...then maybe try a little fucking harder."

"I don't fucking care about your money, Rafe," you gape, appalled by the fact that he could boil it down to something so small. "You're not a good person. All you do is bring out the worst in people."

Something that looks like hurt crosses his face for a split second before it turns into a frightening air of pride. "Like I did with you?"

You blanche, glaring at him even as your face flushes with embarrassment. "I didn't hear you complaining."

He wipes the corner of his lips with his thumb, glancing behind you for a moment, before leaning down to your level. "My mouth was a little preoccupied."

Heat sizzles through your veins and you feel a gush of wetness as his breath tickles the shell of your ear. There's a ghost of a smirk on his face, but there's also a flare of irritation in his eyes that sets off a nervous excitement inside of you. You don't know what it says about you that you like the fact that he looks like he wants to tear you apart just to put you back together again.

Your eyes fall shut for a moment, before you regain your senses and shove him away. "Fuck off, Rafe."

"Leave her alone, Cameron!" JJ's voice suddenly calls from behind you.

Fuck. Of course he saw JJ, he's just trying to get a rise out of you in front of the Pogues.

You close your eyes for a beat, and when you open them again, Rafe is wearing an amused expression.

"See you around, Boston," he salutes before spinning on his heels and walking away.

You paste a smile on your face when JJ comes up behind you, and when he asks if Rafe was bothering you, you don't know why you end up saying 'no'.

***

Before you know it, the Midsummers party is around the corner. Kiara's family makes her go all out for the celebration, and John B has been sneaking off to meet up with Sarah Cameron, still pretending that they all don't already know what's been going on between them.

When John B finds out that Pope and JJ are both working at the event, he approaches you with a plan to get in, but you decide that simply asking Kie to be her plus one may be a simpler solution, for you at least.

When the evening of the party finally arrives, you find yourself in Kiara's room, getting ready for an event you have never seen the likes of before.

"What's with all the flowers and stars and shit?" you ask as she hands you a flower crown that looks like hers, but slightly smaller.

She shrugs, placing her crown over her hair. "Don't ask me. I've just been dragged to this party every year since I was 13."

You would never admit it, and especially not to Kie, but you're actually pretty excited for Midsummers. Ever since your family packed up and moved out to Kildare, you've only really gotten to experience the Pogue life, and while your friends were everything you wanted and more, a taste of Kiara's upbringing wasn't entirely unwelcome.

She may complain about the Kook life, but there was something to be said about having everything you needed at your fingertips...and that something spoke to you.

The country club is decorated beautifully when you arrive with Kiara and her family, and you take a moment to soak in the warmth of the torches and the scent of flowers that waft around you.

It smells...expensive, for lack of a better word. And you don't hate it.

Rafe notices you the moment you walk in. He doesn't even bother trying to tell himself that his eyes were just wandering, because ever since he found out the Carreras had added a plus one, he hadn't stopped looking for you. He half-expects you to turn your nose up at this event, just like Kiara always had, so he's taken by surprise when he sees the wistful expression that crosses your face.

You like it here. The thought brings a small smirk to his face and he takes a sip of champagne to hide his glee. He doesn't have to hide for long, because his expression immediately falls the moment your waiter friend comes by and pulls you into a spinning hug.

Rafe turns away from the scene and tunes back in to the conversation he was having with Topper and Kelce.

"I feel like Sarah's been avoiding me," Topper continues miserably, and Rafe resists the urge to roll his eyes.

Of course she's avoiding you. She can't handle being committed to anyone, let alone a spineless prick like you.

He has had just about enough of Top's complaining for tonight, so he downs his glass in a hefty gulp and walks out onto the dance floor to get some air.

That's when you notice him. His pale blue suit makes him look soft under the waning sunlight, but you know better. Even if you sometimes wish you didn't.

You watch as he grabs a champagne flute from a waiter's tray and takes a long swig. Memories of his lips trained somewhere else send a shot of heat through your abdomen, and you press your legs together under your dress.

His throat bobs as he swallows the bubbly liquid, and you don't realize you've been staring until Rafe's eyes meet yours.

Your eyes widen and you turn away immediately, but it's too late. You don't have to look to know that he's coming up to talk to you, and before you can formulate an escape plan, he is standing beside you.

Rafe can feel the tension wafting off of you, and while he does love to agitate you, he definitely doesn't want to cause a scene and embarrass his family.

He leans over by a fraction of an inch and his bicep glances against your shoulder. He is fully ready for you to shove him aside or start another outburst, so when you don't move, he can't help but lose his breath.

"I thought you were too cool to party with the kooks."

You scoff, looking at something out on the horizon. "I'm only here to keep Kiara company."

"You just keep telling yourself that."

He always did know how to say just the right thing to get a rise of you.

"What do you want from me, Rafe?" you ask, finally looking at him. "Just tell me what you want, so we can stop this asinine charade we've been playing for a year."

He almost doesn't know what to say now that you have finally addressed the growing tensions, but when the words form, he can't hold them in. "I want you to admit that you haven't stopped thinking about what happened that night...because I damn well know that I haven't."

It takes you a few moments to fully understand his words, but once you do, your body involuntarily takes a step back.

You would be lying if you said that you hadn't thought about what happened between you two. If you said you hadn't pictured his mouth when you slid your fingers between your thighs late at night.

Everything about that night had been a surprise, but nothing more than how Rafe Cameron had made you feel when you finally slipped under his sheets.

You can't even say you were drunk, because the expensive liquor had been too much for you and you hadn't touched your cup since arriving at the Camerons' end of summer house party.

It was your first summer on Kildare, and the Pogues had just accepted you into their ranks. You weren't sure if you would be able to fit into their tight-knit group, so you took a chance and went to a Kook party.

The drinks had been too heavy and the music too loud, but everyone was having fun, so you tried your best. However, if you had been honest with yourself, you would've known that you had come to this party for one reason. One person.

Instead, you pretended this was a way to explore the island, and when you needed a break from the party, you had gone up the stairs and sat in the first empty room you could find.

When Rafe found you there, sitting on his bed, he almost didn't seem surprised.

"I've seen you around," he had said, setting his cup on his desk, "hanging with those Pogues."

"What is with the fucking names around here," you had mumbled under your breath, until you heard his quiet chuckle. "I just don't get why you guys have divided the island like it's fucking Battleship or something."

"What's your name?" Rafe asked then, his eyes trained on yours like a hawk. "Where are you from?"

You weren't sure what you wanted out of tonight, so you stuck with a simple answer. "Boston."

He laughed again, shutting the door behind him and taking a seat on the chair opposite you. "What are you doing in my bedroom, Boston?"

You jolt out of the memory as Rafe's head dips down to look at you.

So yes, it would be a lie to say that you hadn't thought about him since. But lying to him was easy, especially when the truth had the power to tear your life apart.

"I can't," you whisper, leaning in like you have a secret. "I can't admit it, because it's not true."

His lips part with shock, and you take this second of confusion to rush down the stairs and onto the dance floor, where Kiara is waving you over.

"Was Rafe giving you trouble?" she asks as you take her hand and follow her out onto the lawn. "I would say I'll tell the guys, but my parents would kill me if I created a scene."

You laugh lightly, shaking your head. "No trouble. He was just asking what I was doing here."

She still looks concerned, so you pat her hand and cock your head over to where Pope is working with his dad. "Let's go say hi."

"I hate to say it, but the kooks really know how to throw an event," Pope muses when you approach him. "Don't tell JJ I said that."

Kie starts to laugh but it quickly turns to a cough when she points to the veranda off to the side of the party. "I guess John B found his way in."

You follow her line of sight to find John B pulling Sarah Cameron into a tight hug. When you look past her, you notice that Topper and Kelce are getting dangerously close to spotting them.

"Guys," you whisper-yell, getting their attention, "we need to buy him some time."

Kiara frowns. "I got Topper."

"I guess I got Kelce," Pope sighs as they disperse.

You glace around the party for a few moments before deciding that your efforts may be better spent inside. Pushing past all of the couples swaying on the dance floor, you walk into the country club, catching onto the railing when you stumble over your heels.

Other than a few stragglers and couples making out in the corner, the club is basically empty, most people favoring the festive pavilion. You're about to head back outside when a familiar voice calls to you from across the hall.

"If you want me to leave you alone, you gotta stop following me around everywhere."

You suck a breath in, spinning around to see Rafe sauntering over to you. "I'm starting to think you might be stalking me, Boston."

You make an undignified noise, your eyes taking in his tall form. His hair is falling into his face and you begrudgingly admit that he looks good - really good - but this isn't the time. You're supposed to be helping John B.

"Give me a break," you scoff. "Why would I be stalking you?"

Rafe shrugs, striding forward so he's a step away from being face to face with you. "That's what I'm trying to figure out, seeing as how you don't think about me."

He takes another step, his breath fanning over your temple. Your face burns as you try to avoid looking at him, but with his lips so close to yours, it's nearly impossible.

When you finally look up, his eyes are piercing, and your mouth dries up like the room has been turned up a 100 degrees.

"Now," he whispers, his eyes never leaving yours, "I'm gonna go back to the other kooks."

He takes a step around you, and you almost let him, before you remember what you're doing here in the first place: distracting him.

Running on pure instinct, you grab his arm and pull him back toward you until his lips meet yours.

Rafe can hardly believe what is going on, but your mouth is hot and sweet and he would be remiss to let you get away when he's finally gotten you back. You smell like gardenia and he takes a deep breath in as his hands grip onto your waist, pulling you closer to him under the dim light of the club.

You can taste the champagne bubbles on his tongue when he kisses you back, and you gasp against his mouth when his hands tighten on your waist and push you against the side wall, away from the view of the party.

Your back hits the wall with a thud and you almost laugh at the fact that he wants to hide this as much as you do, but it feels so good and it's been so long, that you allow yourself a second to stay in the moment. With him.

When his hands come up to tug your hair back, the sharp sting sends a shot of heat through your core and you bite down on his bottom lip for good measure.

Rafe pulls back with a wince, but he doesn't look mad. The opposite, if anything.

He presses his thumb against his lip and the sight of his blood sends you flying back to reality. Reaching forward to wipe a bit of your lip gloss off the corner of his mouth, you flash him a grin and stalk back into the party.

When your conscience comes back to haunt you later that night, you tell yourself it was all just to distract him.

***

After the party, Rafe screws his eyes shut as the girl kneeling in front of him takes him in her mouth, her lips gliding up and down his length at a maddening pace.

His head falls back and he resists the urge to grip her hair and pound up into her, even though his body is begging for a release. He doesn't want to touch her or taste her or even open his eyes, because then he'll remember that she's not you, and that's exactly what he needs tonight.

You're what he needs every night, but when he saw your blond friend tuck his face into your hair as you left the party, he had seen red and needed an immediate reprieve.

His cock twitches in the girl's mouth and he allows himself a single moment to imagine it's you instead. To picture your soft lips and wide eyes and -

A groan tears through his throat and he spills into her willing mouth.

***

It doesn't take long for Sarah to insert herself into the Pogues, but once she and Kie figure out their shit, you find that you don't mind having another girl around.

She was fun to hang with at the Chateau, and she was a great surfing buddy, so when John B recruits the gang to break her out of her house late one night, you don't question it.

As usual, the plan is pretty much to go with the flow, but once you make it to the Cameron property, the risks of what you're about to do finally hit you all.

"Okay, fuck this," Kie sighs, holding her hands up. "We need an actual plan this time. I say John B and y/n sneak up to her room to get her, while JJ, Pope, and I create a distraction out back."

You nod, fist bumping John B and saluting the rest of the group. "Let's do this."

Once you find an open window at the back, the plan goes into motion, with Kiara and the guys lighting a pillow on fire while you and John B hide behind curtains on the first floor.

When Ward and Rose run out back, you both hightail it up the stairs before slowing to a tiptoe on the top floor.

"I'll get her from her room," John B whispers to you as he sneaks along the wall of the hallway, "you keep a look out."

He slinks off down the hall as you backtrack, being careful not to make any noise. You hear a few excited whispers from Sarah's room, but you don't notice anything else until a hand clamps over your mouth and pulls you back into a room off the hall.

You stop trying to scream when the door shuts and you realize you're in Rafe's bedroom. Peeling his hand away, you shove him off, glaring at him as he smirks back.

"Now I really think you're stalking me," he grins, pushing his hair back from his face. "What are you doing here, Boston?"

"That's none of your business," you spit, turning on your heels to leave.

You don't make it to the door before Rafe's hands spin you back around and push you against the wall. There's a small thud as your back makes contact, but no pain comes until he presses his hand to your throat, keeping you in place.

"Actually," he licks his teeth, "seeing as how it's my house, I think it is my business. Now spill it, Pogue."

"I can't say anything while you're choking me," you grit out, your voice just barely constricted by his hand.

He barks out a laugh, his hand tightening on your throat until it actually hurts. "You call that choking? When I'm really choking you, you'll know...because you'll be begging for more."

Against your every instinct, heat floods your core, and you know he's right. You know that whatever this is, whatever dark, animal urges he is running on, so are you.

He must notice the shift in your eyes, because his face dips down and your chin involuntarily tilts up to meet him halfway when a voice whisper-yells from the hall.

"Y/n!" Sarah calls out, "where are you?"

You use this moment of distraction to push him off and slip through the doorway before he can make himself seen.

You meet the group at the bottom of the stairs, where they are all waiting.

"Where the hell were you?" Pope asks, concern tinging his impatience.

You wave away his confusion, following them out of the house. "I thought I saw someone, so I hid in one of the spare rooms."

It's not the truth, but it's close enough that you allow yourself the omission. The part of you that wanted a person like Rafe; the part that was drawn to the darkness, instead of running from it...that part of you needed to stay hidden, even if it meant lying to the people you loved most.

***

Every Friday night, you guys would all have a 'Pogue party' at the chateau. This always consisted of drinking, smoking, and playing stupid games until everyone passed out for the night, and tonight was no different.

The air was sticky with heat and John B had left his door open to let whatever fresh air there may be in.

You're already a couple of shots in when JJ finishes his joint and starts to get paranoid, like he usually did.

"We need to figure out how we're gonna get back at the Kooks for what happened at Midsummers," he commands, his hands gesticulating wildly. "They can't get away with treating us like shit."

"I actually agree with him," Pope nods, taking a sip of his beer. "We need to retaliate so they know we won't take their shit lying down."

Kiara lets out a small laugh as she hops up to sit on the arm of the couch JJ is lying on. "What do you propose we do then? Set fire to their backyard? Already done."

You don't even register that it's you talking when you blurt out, "What if we just let it go."

You blink when the rest of them gape at you, only then realizing what you said. "That was a joke."

"Good," JJ squints, a small frown coloring the edges of his mouth. "So anyway..."

You stand up from your spot on the couch and head into John B's kitchen with some lame excuse about getting another drink. You have no idea where your comment came from, but if you had to guess, you think it may have something to do with the growing presence Rafe has had in your life recently.

You grab a bottle from the counter and take a long swig that burns your chest from the inside out. The flavor just reminds you of the whiskey on his tongue from the night you got together, and the bottle almost falls from your grasp.

It takes you almost an hour to get your bearings again, but when you head back into the living room, the rest of the gang is asleep.

Sighing, you lay down on one of the couches and close your eyes.

***

An hour later, you're no closer to falling asleep than you were when you first closed your eyes. Your mind keeps wandering to memories that you have kept locked away for a long time - too long.

The sound of a soft breeze hitting the wind chimes out front lulls you into a quiet trance and for once, you finally let yourself succumb to the memory.

"What are you doing in my bedroom, Boston?"

"I got lost," you said simply, shrugging. You both knew you were lying, but that's what made it more fun.

He had flashed you a sly smile and you had wanted so bad to just reach out and trace the seam of his lips with your fingertip. He looked so pretty under the soft moonlight, and you were the kind of girl who knew how to get what she wanted.

You knew that was probably why you had been so infatuated with Rafe since coming to the island. Because of the challenge. Because he's a Cameron, and you're practically a Pogue, and something about getting a taste of the darkness excited you more than you'd care to admit.

"Why don't I believe that?" he asked, his voice coming out like a breath. He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs, and you had to exercise all of your self control to keep from staring at the way his biceps strained in his button-down. "I know about you, Boston. I've seen you watching me."

"Oh yeah?" you had smirked, pressing your feet into the ground and inching your legs apart. "What are you gonna do about it?"

Your eyes fly open and you sit upright, your breaths coming out in short spurts. This was too much to bear, even without the other Pogues sleeping all around you.

Taking a deep breath, you carefully step over JJ's sleeping form, making sure to avoid the creaky floorboards on the way to the door. You slip through the open doorway and out into the trees, feeling more and more reckless, the farther you get from the chateau.

It's a long walk to the Cameron mansion, but the fresh air doesn't help clear your thoughts. You're a long way from the girl you were when you first moved to the OBX, but Rafe keeps finding a way to prove that you still have the desire for pain and discomfort. For danger.

When you get to their front porch, you allow yourself one moment to pretend that you're here to get Sarah, but when Rafe pulls the door open, you can't deny it any longer.

He must be able to see it on your face, because his mouth curves up into a slow grin that makes your eyes dance with relief.

"Is Sarah home?" you ask, maybe somehow still hoping for one last chance at a reprieve.

He shakes his head. "She just snuck out."

You nod once, glancing behind him. "Can I come in?"

He leads you out to the back balcony that has a small patio setup and a beautiful view of the ocean. "I'm assuming you don't want anyone to know you're here, so this is the farthest we can get from the bedrooms."

You press your lips together, taking a seat on one of the couches. The wind brings a slight chill, and you shiver, prompting him to hand you his hoodie.

The waves are crashing quietly against the shore, and they look like black ink under the night sky. When Rafe takes a seat next to you, you glance over at him, watching his jaw twitch as his hair rustles in the breeze.

He looks almost wistful under the dim lighting, and your brow scrunches as you try to fathom how this boy could have fallen so far.

"You hurt my friends," you whisper once the silence starts to become unbearable.

"I know."

You pause for a beat.

"You hurt me."

His eyes flicker down. "I know that too."

You run a hand through your hair, your breath coming out like a scoff. "I don't understand what you're doing, Rafe. Please, just help me understand it all, because I feel like I'm losing my mind trying to come up with excuses for you."

That gets his attention. "I never asked you to make excuses for me."

Your face contorts and he closes his eyes for a long moment. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, Boston."

"Don't you think I know that?" you cry, before bringing your voice down again. "I've just never had the best judgment when it comes to you."

"What are you gonna do about it?"

Rafe stood up from his chair, his eyes impossibly dark in the dim light of his room. "You sure you know what you're getting into?"

You nodded, your tongue darting out to wet your lips. "Do your worst."

His eyes flashed and he pushed your knees further apart, sending you falling back onto the bed. You were prepared for him to lift your dress and tear your panties off without a warning, so when all you felt were his fingers trailing up your thighs, you were almost upset.

But then he ran his cool finger down your glistening slit and you gasped loudly, turning your face into the sheets bunched up around you.

"So wet for me," he mused, sticking his finger into his mouth. "Sweet too."

Without another word, he pushed two fingers into you, sinking all the way in as you squirmed over the covers. It took a second for you to get acclimated to the feeling, but once his mouth came down to join in, waves of heat had already begun spreading through you.

You practically whined when he lifted your ankles over his shoulders, diving back in to run his tongue over your sensitive clit. Your hands came down to grip onto his hair as he continued his pleasurable assault to your dripping cunt. The sharp tug made him groan, which only sent more vibrations up your abdomen.

"Fuck, I'm close," you moaned as he pressed his hands into your stomach to keep you from rising off the bed. "Don't stop!"

Instead, he did exactly that.

"Asshole," you spat as he grinned back at you, his chin glistening with your slick.

"We're not done yet," he said simply, lifting your legs off of him and pushing you back further on the bed.

Rafe began undoing the buttons on his shirt, so you lifted your dress off, chucking it onto the floor beside his clothes. You couldn't help but watch as he slowly pulled his pants down, his thick cock springing out of his boxers.

Saliva flooded your mouth and you instinctively reached forward, hoping for a taste, but he batted your hand away. Climbing over you, he grabbed a condom from his drawer and slid it on, pumping his dick a few times for good measure.

"It's not gonna fit," you whispered as he lined himself up with your cunt.

"I thought you said you could handle it."

His smug expression sent a flare of anger through your brain and you wrapped your legs around his waist, pushing him down and inside of you.

The stretch was a perfect mix of pain and pleasure and you both moaned in tandem, his low groan blending with your sharp gasps. He pushed a bit further until he was all the way in, before starting to move.

His thrusts began slow and shallow, allowing you a few moments to get used to his size, but the moment you began to squeeze around him, he changed his pace.

"Rafe, fuck, yes," you gasped, your hands lifting up to press into his back.

His thrusts sped up, hitting the same perfect spot inside of you as the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter. It only took a few more seconds for the coil to snap, and you cried out, digging your nails into his shoulder blades as you spasmed around him.

Once your orgasm had finally begun to abate, he pounded into you a few more times, before spilling into the condom and pulling out.

You were lying next to him, your breaths finally starting to slow, when you saw him turn to you out of the corner of your eye. "Wanna go again?"

The sounds of the water pulsing below is all you can hear for a long time. You're so focused on the sound that you almost don't hear it when Rafe speaks again.

"I don't have an answer for you," he murmurs, his voice carrying just barely above the breeze whistling by your ears. "You said you wanted to understand me, but I don't even know what's going on inside my head half the time."

Your brow furrows and you place your hand on the couch between you two. His movements seem unconscious as he slides his fingers over so that they press against yours.

"Do you regret it?"

"Regret what?" you ask, turning to look at him.

"That night," he says, stumbling over his words. "Our night."

It would be so easy to lie, just like at Midsummers, but this time feels different. Lying now feels like a betrayal, and even after everything he's done, you can't bring yourself to cross that line.

"No," you sigh, pressing your hand on top of his. "I don't regret it."

***

When you get back to the chateau, Sarah is sitting on the porch.

"There you are," she pouts, standing up and giving you a hug. "Everyone's asleep inside, and JJ's sprawled out over the whole floor, so there's nowhere to step."

You laugh lightly, hoping the night's exploits aren't written all over your face. "I was just out looking for you, actually."

"Huh, weird," she frowns. "You'd think I would have ran into you on the way here then."

You shrug, hoping she'll drop it, and walk past her to get the door. You haven't even reached the knob when she grabs your arm and pulls you back, somewhat forcefully.

"Y/n," she whispers, her voice low and warning, "why are you wearing Rafe's sweatshirt?"

Your eyes widen and you yank it over your head. "Sarah-"

"What have you gotten yourself into?" she asks, her voice sounding genuinely concerned.

You look at the hoodie for another second, before tearing your eyes away from it and handing it to her. "It was nothing. It was stupid, and it won't happen again."

She takes it and ties it around her waist before shooting you a sidelong glance. "This is different. I've seen you around guys you hooked up with. This isn't like that."

You open your mouth to speak but she lifts her hand up, cutting you off. "I won't tell Kie or the guys, but you need to figure out what the hell is going on in your head."

Tears flood your vision. "I'm sorry, Sarah. I can't even imagine what you must think of me."

"Hey, don't apologize to me," she whispers, taking your hand. "I mean, I still love him after everything...what does that say about me?"

You blink the tears away and let Sarah Cameron loop her arm through yours. Maybe everything would be okay again.

***

You don't see him again until he and Barry ambush your friends at the airplane hangar. The altercation turns violent too fast and before you know it, Pope and JJ are on the ground, throwing around punches faster than you can keep up.

When Barry goes for JJ, you rush into the action, but Rafe manages to snag your arm, shoving you out of the way. You stumble back, bumping your hip painfully into the boxes beside you.

Anger and hurt fills your vision and before you can understand what you're doing, your hand flies up to slap him across the face.

He barely flinches, his teeth gritting against the pain. "That the best you got?"

Tears sting your throat, but you refuse to give him the satisfaction. "I don't even know you anymore."

Your whispered words are harsh, but Rafe is having a hard time focusing on anything other than the fact that the stinging in his cheek means you're here. But your hair is disheveled, and you have a nearly feral look in your eyes, so when Barry comes flying out of nowhere, he rushes forward to grab you.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he lifts you up easily, even as you claw at his back, before walking out of the hangar and throwing you onto the ground.

Your palms hit the grass hard, and you smack the ground with an angry yell as Rafe rushes back inside. He knows you're going to hate him, and he knows he didn't have to be so harsh with you, but lately he hasn't been able to stop himself.

"Stay down!" he orders as you clamber to your feet. "If you come back inside, I won't be so gentle."

He thought it was bad when he wasn't able to see you, but now that he has, it's somehow worse than ever. Every time you're within reach, he has to fight between the urges to rip you apart and crush you into himself, so you never leave.

Later, when he talks to his father about what he's been feeling inside of him, the response isn't what he wants or needs. When he finally admits that he may not be okay, that he doesn't think he can control the thoughts in his head anymore, Ward's instructions to "man up" go straight to his head, where nothing is truly safe anymore.

He thought he was obsessed with getting the gold, but when it was actually in reach, something still felt missing. The more he thinks about it, the more he finds himself fixating on one person.

***

"What happened earlier?" JJ asks you when the whole group returns to the chateau that night. "When Rafe carried you out?"

The question catches you off guard and you feel Sarah's apologetic gaze on you as you open your mouth to respond. "I have no idea."

JJ doesn't look convinced, and when Sarah tries to change the subject, he bulldozes over her. "I just don't get what's going on between you two. First, he's talking to you at the boardwalk, and then he's pulling you out of fights?"

It's not a question really, but the implication is startlingly clear.

"What are you asking, JJ?" Pope warns, his eyes glancing between you two. "I don't think you're thinking this through. It's fucking Rafe we're talking about here. He's a monster, why would she have anything to do with him?"

His words ring through your ears like alarm bells and you can barely hear their argument over the noise. The sound gets louder and louder until you have to resist the urge to cover your ears.

"He's right."

It takes you a moment to realize those words came from you, but now that it's out, there's no going back.

Sarah says your name cautiously, but you shake your head, silencing her words.

"The guy I hooked up with my first summer on the island was Rafe," you say, your voice slowly growing in strength. "He's the guy I was talking about. And it wasn't just then."

Everyone except Sarah is looking at you like they've never seen you before. The shock and disgust on their faces mirrors what you felt the first time Rafe tried to hurt your friends, but with it being thrown back, you can't handle the pressure.

Tears blur your vision and you stalk out of the house, your feet taking you anywhere but here. The sound of voices yelling gets louder behind you, but you keep walking, your destination slowly becoming clearer the farther away you get.

Rafe is pulling into his driveway when you step onto the Cameron's property, and he throws his door open as soon as he notices you walking up.

"What's going on?" he asks as he slams the door shut and ushers you into the house. "Are you okay?"

You can't help but laugh, even as a few tears slip down your cheeks. "They know."

He knows what you're referring to without you having to explain, and he hesitantly steps forward, pulling you into a hug when you don't flinch. Your face presses into his hard chest and you glide your hands up his back, clutching the fabric of his tee shirt as you let out a small sob.

"They think I'm a monster," you whisper with a sniffle when you finally let go of him.

He shakes his head, running a hand through his hair. "They're wrong. You have to know they're wrong."

"What if they aren't?"

He looks at you then, and that spark in your eyes starts to flicker again. "What are you trying to say, Boston?"

"I'm saying..." you start, dragging your words out, "that if they think I'm a monster, I might as well prove them right."

He frowns, following you into the living room. A large part of him is ready and willing for whatever piece of yourself you will give him, but a new, even larger part wants something else for you. Something better.

"Y/n," Rafe warns, his voice dangerously low, "I don't know if that's such a good idea."

Something akin to betrayal flashes across your eyes and your mouth presses into a line. "I thought you liked- I mean, I thought you-"

"I do," he states simply. "But you're so much better than me. You know that."

"I'm not," you shake your head, stepping forward. Your hands come up to rest on his chest and his breath hitches. "So shut up and fuck me."

He considers it for a moment but his mind makes the decision for him. His hands tangle into your hair and pull you forward, his lips attacking yours harshly.

He glides his tongue across the seam of your lips, but you pull back before he can go any further.

"Upstairs," you order, before pushing past him and heading up to his room.

You get to his bedroom right before he does, but when the door shuts behind you, he shoves you onto the bed, a snarl curling his lips. "You think you can order me around in my own house?"

You shrug as he climbs over you, his hands pressing into the bed beside your face. "Watch me."

Before he can lean down and kiss you again, you latch your legs around his waist and flip him over, so you're straddling him. He lets out a breathy chuckle that dies in his throat as soon as you begin grinding onto his lap. His cock has already started to harden, even with layers and layers of clothing between you two, and you use this momentary lapse in concentration to push him back onto the bed.

Before he can stop you, you undo the button on his pants and yank them down to his ankles. Reaching onto his bedside table, you grab one of the embroidered bracelets sitting on top and use it to pull your hair back into a ponytail.

His eyes darken with lust as you sink to your knees and take his cock in your hand, your fingers unconsciously gliding up and down the shaft.

You can't help but smile as you watch him lean back, his eyes already falling closed. "My turn."

His cock is sturdy in your hand, and you run your tongue up the shaft, taking your time now that you finally get to taste him. You loosen your fingers around him, swirling your tongue over the head, before slowly taking him into your mouth.

You can feel his eagerness as Rafe's hand runs over your hair, gathering it in his fist.

When he starts to push your head down, you lift your lips off his cock and shake your head. "Look who's impatient this time."

He snarls, tightening his grip on your hair. "Just fucking take me like a good girl."

"I thought you wanted me to be bad."

You slowly run your tongue up the thick vein on the underside of his cock, fluttering your eyelashes up at him, and he almost passes out from the sight. You look so innocent beneath him, and he wants to commit this image into his memory forever, but then you hollow your cheeks around him and every thought leaves his brain.

Your mouth is so warm and wet and he only opens his eyes again when he feels you moaning around him. Glancing down, he sees your hand disappear into your shorts, and he curses, his cock twitching between your lips.

He knows he won't last another minute like this, so he pulls back up, his hand letting go of your hair. He lifts you onto the bed, taking his time to take off your tank top and unbutton your shorts.

"You're beautiful," he states when you're finally bare in front of him, as though it's simply a fact.

His eyes meet yours in the darkness and you are suddenly struck with the desire to make this night last. You know this is the last time you will get to do this, and it doesn't escape you that he's been trying to savor each moment as well.

You take your time as you undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing it off his shoulders once you've reached the bottom and laying it gently on the floor.

Rafe leans you back down and grins as he presses a kiss to your jaw. "Aren't you sweet."

"Shut up," you snipe, running your teeth over his lip as he comes back up to steal a kiss.

"So that's how you want to play this," he smirks, sucking a bruise into your neck.

His fingers still feel soft and gentle against your skin, and you wish you could get it into his head that even though this is probably the last time you will get to have him like this, you don't want it to be sweet. You want it to hurt.

"I thought I told you to fuck me."

He chuckles into your skin, before sliding his hand under your knee and lifting your leg off the bed. Without any warning, he thrusts into you, forcing you to grit your teeth to avoid making a sound.

"You're so ready for me," Rafe smirks, his calloused hands gripping your waist, "and I've barely even touched you."

You gasp, your head falling back as the pressure becomes almost too much. "It's been a while."

"No, that's not it," he taunts, his body leaning down as his lips find yours. "You just haven't been fucked right since last time."

You hate that he's right. You had tried to get your fix by hooking up with the tourists during the summers, but it had done nothing to assuage the growing frustration in your gut. Because the only person on this island who can make you feel good is the one who brings out the worst in you.

He continues thrusting into you with a pace much faster than you're used to, bottoming out each time. He reaches down to sling an arm under your waist, lifting you up off the bed to change the angle, and a sharp cry escapes your throat against your volition.

"You gotta be quiet," he grunts, lifting you further to press his forehead to yours, "or you don't stop finishing until I say so."

Your brow furrows in confusion, but then he uses his other hand to grab the headboard and starts thrusting into you even faster than before. You tilt your head up, pressing a harsh kiss to his mouth in an effort to quiet the noises trying to escape, but when your release slams into you, you can't help the gasp that flies out.

Your legs clamp around him and he uses his strength to hold you up as your body melts from the pleasure overcoming you.

Your aftershocks haven't even slowed before he spins you around, so you're straddling him, and starts pounding up into you again. Your sensitive cunt spasms helplessly around him, but he doesn't stop, even as you hiss between your teeth.

"Rafe, please, it's too much," you gasp as he holds you up so you don't back onto the bed. "I can't-"

"I told you to stay quiet," he teases, his voice growing darker as he ups his pace again. "You knew the consequences."

Even as the bed shakes from the force of his motions, the pain eventually turns to pleasure again, and you can feel your next release sneaking up on you.

He wraps your hair around his fist, giving it a quick tug for good measure, but the way your pussy squeezes around him makes him pause. "You like that, don't you?"

His grip tightens and you nod slowly, bringing your eyes back to his. His pupils darken and you feel another gush of wetness start to drip down your thighs. Your scalp stings, but you relish the pain, letting it mix in with the pleasure between your legs.

Rafe can already feel you tightening around him again, and he lifts his head to watch as your eyes screw shut, overcome by the feeling of his cock driving into you.

You look heavenly as you near the edge of the abyss, and he slides his hand down between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit. It only takes a few tweaks before you fly off the edge again, your mouth falling open with a silent scream.

Your body shakes from the force of the second orgasm and he can't hold off any longer. Pressing his face into the crook of your neck, he lets out a gasp as he finds his own seemingly never-ending release. All of the energy leaves his body as he watches you fall apart under him, and he finds that he can no longer lie to himself about how he feels.

Reality quickly comes crashing in, and you realize that you don't have any idea how to move forward. Whatever you feel for him will never be enough, no matter how hard you may try to convince yourself otherwise.

Rafe watches you get dressed, his eyes trailing over the bare expanses of your skin, as if committing it to memory. He wasn't raised like his siblings, and the voice in the back of his mind that tells him to never let you leave reminds him of a childhood he never quite managed to unlearn.

He never did learn how to do what was right, but if he is going to do right by one thing, that might as well be you.

#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x fem!reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #outer banks smut #outer banks #rafe cameron #sarah cameron #jj maybank #kiara carrera #john b routledge #pope heyward #dub con

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aaizawashouta · 1 year

Text

Take It Off

pairing: kankuro x fem!reader

word count: 4.3k

summary: it's been six months since you've last seen each other. you can't help but wonder if he's still yours like you are his. (modern!au)

warnings: smut (18+, minors dni) oral (female receiving), fingering, p in v, cream pie

a/n: this is my first fic ever for this show. I am on my second re-watch of Naruto, so lord, be gracious if anything is out of character.

It’s humid outside, the air clinging to your skin much like the dress you have on. Your heels click against the pavement as they carry you two blocks over. You aren’t close enough to hear the music, but gods, could you feel the bass. It’s the first party to kick off the summer. The sand siblings held a party every year and this one was no different. Well, maybe a little different. The weight of the necklace around your neck is a reminder of just how different everything really was.

The crowd is thick, the air intoxicating. Hungry eyes devour your being as you walk into the familiar home. The sound of your name catches your attention. A sly smile making its way on your face. All your favorite people are here. Your chest tightens a little. Sakura and Ino wrap you in a hug, compliments on your appearance pouring out of them. A bone crushing hug comes from behind you, venom on your tongue ready to bite when you turn to see Naruto. It dies, and all you can do is accept the affection he’s so graciously giving you.

Voices talk over each other, some getting lost in the music. But you know what’s being said. Talks of adventures, and completed missions. The relief of finally being home. The smile never leaves you as you partake in the conversation, you’ve been tucked up into Kiba’s side, his arm thrown lazily over your shoulder. Your best friend since damn near birth, it comes to no surprise that he’s missed you. Sighing, you turn your head, there is no ignoring the knowing gaze of Gaara. He’s been watching you since you got here, Temari too, just a lot more discreet.

“You’re going to leave a scar from your stare burning into my face.”

“You need a drink.”

The both of you stare at each other for a moment. The bass of the music vibrates through you.

“Naruto,” you call, breaking Gaara’s gaze. The blonde perks up at your attention. “Come.”

Normally Kiba would be at your side when it comes to this kind of thing, but that’d be a little too obvious this time. You hear Kiba laugh as Naruto makes his way to your side. If sunshine could be bottled into a person, he’d be it. He’s literally buzzing with energy. Eyes bright and slightly glassy, his signature grin taking up his face.

“Let’s get a drink,” you say, grabbing his hand and pulling him closer to you.

He nods, leading the way. His giant body parts the crowd a lot easier than you would’ve. His mouth is moving, but you can’t make out the words he says. His free hand flies as he talks, his whole body animated, eager to get his words out. It makes your lips quirk as you watch him. He really is a nice guy, a little clueless and impulsive, but nice nonetheless. If your heart wasn’t already taken by someone else, you could see yourself being completely owned by someone like him.

It’s in the kitchen when he lets go of your hand, lips brushing against your ear to ask what you’d like to drink. You barely hear him over your raging heartbeat. He’s here. Kankuro. He’s right there leaning against the counter, bottle in hand, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. It isn’t him that’s getting you worked up though. No, it's the girl that’s hanging on him, doing her best to appear meek whilst shoving her tits in his face. Your nails dig crescent shapes into your palms, teeth biting into your cheek. Huh, maybe things are different now. Naruto, your saving grace, calls your name. You're thankful you were able to look away before you got caught staring. As if you aren’t embarrassed enough.

“What do you want to drink?”

“Whatever is sweet and in a capped bottle, Naru.”

Your smile is sugary sweet when he winks at you. You fiddle with the chain around your neck, almost tempted to take it off. It went from being your hail mary to something that’s condemning you right back to hell. Maybe you made yourself a little too much of a target tonight. Your mind is attacking you and nothing has even happened. You pull slightly at the hem of your dress. It’s tight and it’s not moving—you knew what you were doing.

A snicker has you looking up. Instead of looking at the girl whose nose is the air with the audacity to judge you, your eyes meet his. A gasp gets lodged in your throat, making you choke on your breath. Fingers clinging onto the heavy metal that rests against your chest.

“Don’t think he’ll find what you’re wanting.” Her nasally voice mocks. “It’s rough or nothing around here.”

Your lips push in thought. This girl has no idea who you are. You aren’t here by word of mouth like most people. She has no idea a key to this house sits next to your own on the keychain in your purse. This castle welcomes you in, no matter what.

“Here, sweetheart.” Naruto says as he saunters up to you. “Easy to find when there’s four cases with your name written on it. Gaara really went all out for you tonight.”

Gaara. You need a drink. That’s why he’s in charge around here, you suppose. The guy just always knows. A light laugh escapes you. Naruto smiles at you quizzically, not completely understanding, but happy to see you happy. He really is contagious. Kankuro stiffens, you’re not sure if it’s from your laughter or the fact that Naruto is pressed tightly against you. Either way, you can see how he straightens, shaking the girl off him, his stare never leaving your face.

Ignoring him the best you can, you push on your tiptoes and lightly place a kiss upon Naruto’s cheek. You grin when heat blossoms instantly across his cheeks. “Thank you. Now come on, before Kiba hunts me down for a game of beer pong.”

One of the reasons you hate when Kiba hunts you down for beer pong is the fact that you guys never fucking lose. You’re a dynamic duo, carrying each other like a proper team should. Lee and Naruto are on the side of the table, frustration pouring out of both of them. Sweat beads along your hairline. Your hairdo long since forgotten due to the humidity; it’s now pulled up held loosely in a clip at the back of your head. There’s three cups left on the table, two for you and one for Lee and Naruto. It’s your turn to get the winning shot. You step into position, flicking the access water off the ball when you feel it. The heat of his stare. It’s taking in every inch of you never pausing for more than a moment. There’s nothing you can do other than freeze under such scrutiny.

Kiba calls your name, but you can barely hear him. Your gaze locks onto Kankuro’s. His eyes are blazing. Emotions swirling like a typhoon, desperate to drown you. He’s moving through the sea of bodies, shoulders knocking into others without even a backwards glance. He’s heading towards you and there isn’t much you can do.

Tearing your gaze from his, you squeeze your eyes shut. One, two, three. One, two, three. You can do this. Taking a deep breath, your eyes open, almost stumbling back because Kiba’s right in your face staring at you with a deadpan look.

“What?” You snap.

“What do you mean, ‘what?’ Throw the goddamn ball and win the game. You can fuck him later.”

Your lips part as your eyes narrow. “Listen here, mutt—”

“Don’t act like you guys weren’t just eye fucking each other.” Kiba rolls his eyes. “Plus, if you don’t, I’ll lose fifty bucks to Shikamaru. So help me out, huh?”

You don’t even know what to say. What can you say? He not only called you out on your bullshit, but Kankuro’s too. Kiba smirks, patting the top of your head before moving out of your way. All water, no cup. Lee and Naruto moan at their loss, again, as they down their drinks. Kiba howls, kissing your cheek causing you to squirm away from him. He knows you’re annoyed with him and is trying to be cute.

“I need some air.”

“Two more games,”

“Kiba! Shika is right there, use him. I need to breathe.”

You don’t miss his knowing smirk as you turn and head for the backyard. It’s drastically more quiet and you welcome it. There’s a few people out here, most taking a smoke. Your hand twitches, you should have snagged one from Shikamaru when you were inside. You walk around the yard, pulled deeper into the backyard where the edge of the yard meets the sparse trees. A light laugh escapes you when the sight of an old, roughly put together fort comes into view. Instantly you know it was Gaara’s, a place he could hide when he was younger.

A shriek comes from behind you, a hand flies to your chest as you jump. Gods, you’re wound so tight, the fresh air you were so desperate to get isn’t helping you now. If anything, you’re desperate to go home and wash the night off of you. The more you linger, the more you feel like it’s been a mistake. Even if Gaara and Temari think otherwise. You finger your necklace, the thought of taking it off and leaving it behind dances in your mind once again.

How mad would he be? Would he honestly be surprised? Does it fucking matter? Yes. It does. Because you love him. You’re a goddamn idiot in love with a bigger idiot.

Groaning, your head falls back, clip loosening, hair falling to frame your face. Yeah, it’s time to go home. Four cases of your favorite drink and you only made it through one. You’re only a little bitter about it. Tonight was supposed to be fun. He’s standing behind you when you finally make yourself turn to head inside. His presence makes you pause, eyes widening as your stare meets his. It’s quiet as you both watch each other, neither of you sure of the next move to make. It breaks your heart a little.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” you reply, voice light.

“Had a feeling I’d find you out here.”

He leans forward, handing you a bottle. Your lips twitch. You know it in your heart of hearts that it wasn’t fucking Gaara who made sure that your favorite drink was on hand. Rough or nothing around here. You snort, not when it comes to you.

“You been busy?” you ask, taking a pull as a distraction. Whatever will keep you busy. He’s got you on edge, you don’t need to show him just how exposed your nerves are. There’s double meaning to your words, let’s see if he answers honestly.

“Seemed that way, huh?” He laughs as he shakes his head. “No. Gaara’s been keeping us all busy.” You believe him. Kankuro has no reason to lie, especially about that. “So, you and Naruto, huh?”

He takes a step closer, eyes watching you closely. He’s close enough now that you can feel his body heat. His right hand brushes yours, pinky linking with yours before letting go. Your disappointment only lasts a second, soon his fingers are wrapping around your wrist, feeling how your heart beats for him.

“So, still falling for the bait, huh?” You laugh.

His eyebrow quirks at your grin. “Normally it’s Kiba.”

“I got smart.”

Kankuro nods, a small smirk tugging on his lips. It’s turning into a game, making you go from anxious to excited. You step into him this time, your chest brushing against his. It still amazes you just how much bigger he is than you.

“Always such a tease, puppet.” You gulp down a mixture of fear and desire as he applies more pressure to your wrist, your pulse racing madly in between his fingers.

He looks down at you, eyes dancing with mirth before they trail down the rest of you. It’s only a second or two when he pulls you in closer as his hand raises to your chest. You can’t help the strangled gasp that leaves you in a rush when his fingers pull at the necklace around your neck. Lightly, they trace over your skin, making you breakout in goosebumps despite the heat.

“That’s my name.”

“It is.”

“Around your fucking neck.”

“Yes.”

He looks so baffled. It’s almost cute. “Kuro, I haven’t ever belonged to anyone else.”

The door shuts behind you, your back slams into the knob causing you to hiss. You feel Kankuro huff against your neck as he holds back a laugh. Sliding a hand up his neck, your fingers tangle in his hair. There’s no hiding your smile when he groans.

“Baby,” the word is muffled against your skin. “You’re killin’ me.”

“Can always make it worse,”

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” Your mouth at his neck before placing your lips at his ear. “I’m not wearing anything underneath all this.”

“What the fuck,”

You lean backwards, resting your head on the door. “You know what else?”

“Hmm?”

“I wore this dress just so you could take it off.”

“It’ll end up on the floor, baby. Might just rip the fucking thing off.”

In a smooth, quick movement, Kankuro goes to the floor. heat licks up your spine.You see his small smirk, large hands trailing up and down your bare thighs. You’d done a lot of things before, but never this.

“I haven’t even touched you yet, baby.”

He runs his nose over your center, taking in a deep breath. His hands tighten on your thighs, as if he’s stopping himself from diving right in. You shudder, squeezing your thighs together only for him to pry them apart.

Your teeth dig into your bottom lip, breathing shallow, watching him as his hand lifts one of your legs to rest on his shoulder. You can’t stop the moan when he kisses your ankle. You can’t help but wonder if he knew he could mold you into anything he wanted. You’ve been his since for as long as you've known him. He could straight out ruin you and you’d thank him.

His hand trails up your leg, rough calluses catching on your skin. There is no buildup, his finger running through your folds, a hum as he collects it before sticking the digit in his mouth.

“You're fucking soaked, babe. Fuck, bet you taste real sweet, huh?”

“Sweet as honey.” It comes out in a sigh.

“That’s fucking right.”

You clench around nothing. Kankuro’s voice was raw, deeper than you’d ever heard it. He gave nothing else before diving in. You moan, your head falling back against the door again. Only to lift it when he smacks your thigh.

“Baby,”

You huff, but nod, biting back your whimper. His tongue is flat as it makes its way through your folds. It’s like he’s done this before. Or at least thought about it. That thought does something to you. Thinking about Kankuro having thoughts about devouring you whole. You have to tell him, god, you have to tell him.

“Kuro,” you murmur, hips lifting to roll against his face.

“Baby.” He says voice thick with arousal. You squirm at the feel of his breath against you. His thumb rolls your clit in circles as his tongue parts your folds. He slips a digit in before replacing it with his tongue.

You grind yourself on his face, barely catching the feel of his teeth and it is exquisite. You whisper his name again, wanting him to look at you, to see you. Want him to know that you’ve only been a mess like this because of him. He holds you open and licks up the seam of your sex, your hips buck, rubbing yourself across his lips and chin.

“Hey, I got you.”

He strokes and teases your pussy. Switching off between his thick fingers and his tongue. He has you quivering. The sounds of you clenching around his fingers, his tongue are obscene and he fucking loves it.

You feel like you’re drowning. Every crashing wave grows higher and higher building a tsunami that can’t be stopped. You move with every flick of his tongue. Heel digging into his shoulder when he sucks your clit into his warm mouth. It almost sends you over.

“You taste so good, baby. So fucking perfect for me.”

You can’t help but laugh. “That’s because I’m made for you.”

Kankuro groans at your words. Fingers digging into your exposed thigh. You’re right on the edge. Just a little bit more. A simple push and—you cry out when his thumb brushes against your clit in a perfect circle. The perfect pressure and you're flying.

“Oh my god,”

He groans against you, feeling your release. You clench tightly on his tongue as he fucks it into you, taking everything you’ve got to give. He keeps up his pace, helping you ride it out. As your hips slow down he replaces his tongue with his fingers, his mouth going back to your sensitive nub.

“Kuro—Kankuro, no. Please.”

“Come on, be a good girl. Be a nice puppet for me, please. One more, just one more.”

It shoots straight to your core. You’re desperate, small whimpers falling from your lips. Good girl. Of course you’d be his good girl. Whatever kept him here with you is what you’d be.

You're dripping down your thighs. You know it’s all over his face, dripping down his chin. He catches your eye when he pulls away, a grin tilting his lips. He’s shining with your release. Leaning forward he catches you by surprise and kisses you. You hum into it, opening up to let him explore your mouth. Licking into him, you taste yourself. Odd, different, but not unpleasant. You're distracted when his fingers pump into you, curling into that spongy part of you that you can’t even reach. It hits fast and hard.

Kankuro’s chuckling to himself when he stands to his feet.

Your eyes narrow as your breath evens out. “Got something to say, Kuro?”

He grabs your hand and presses it against his groin. Even through the fabric of his jeans you can tell that he’s hard as steel and burning hot. “I think I’ve done enough with my mouth, hmm?”

“You going take me to bed, or fuck me against the door?”

His eyes darken at your words. “Baby I don’t know if I want to fuck you so hard the neighbors know my name, or fuck you to where you’re stupid for my cock and my cock only.”

You don’t say much as you get dragged over to his bed. Clothes are tossed on the floor. Kankuro curses under his breath when you pull your top off, his hands pulling you to him so he can suck a nipple into his mouth. You sigh with the building pleasure, hands combing through his dark locks.

“This won’t be gentle, I don’t know if I can be easy with you right now.”

“Are you warning me?”

Kankuro levels you with a look. “It’s been a while, babe.”

You trail your gaze over him from his head to his toes, lingering where his hand was working his length. “I think I’ll be okay. I know how to handle you. Always have.”

You run a thumb over the tip, smearing the precum. Your nails nip at his sensitive skin and he shivers. You fall back against the bed watching as he climbs over you. His dick nudges the soaked folds of your cunt.

“Come on Kuro,” you say softly, arching your back to lift your hips. “Ruin me, I want it.”

And you know he wants to.

“You’re too good to me,” his voice is thick with want.

Slowly he sinks into you. He’s too big. Fuck, he’s so big. The head of his cock snags at your entrance, causing him to start over. You breathe in nice and slow, relaxing yourself with every slow thrust he makes until he’s at the hilt.

“Holy fuck,” You hiss as he sits snug. You need a moment.

With a deep breath you nod, giving him permission and he’s taking it, demanding more–needing more the second he feels the tight velvet of your sex.

“Kankuro,” you moan, nails digging into his shoulders.

He nods. He knows you need this as much as he does. You're clinging to him, hands tugging at his hair, cunt clenching around him like he’d slip free at any moment. His thrusts are deep, building a slow burn inside of you. Your toes curl because it’s just the beginning. You arch your back, rolling your hips to meet his thrusts. You hit a good rhythm, letting yourself breathe, relax, and suck him in deeper. You’re almost where he wants you. Kankuro looks at you and your heart flips in your chest. It’s like he’s truly looking at you for the first time. He’s looking at you like he’s in love. You clench around him and he groans. He thrusts a little harder than before, causing your head to fall back.

“Eyes on me,” You whimper and open your eyes. “Eyes on me, baby.”

You watch each other, a breath apart as you circle your hips. You’re waiting for him to break. Any second now. He muffles out curses, a hand trailing up and wrapping around your neck. The action has your eyes rolling back before you snap them open. Your walls flutter around him, and his grip tightens. A knowing looking glinting in his eye. You flex your cunt, lower muscles bearing down as you grip him. He groans, the sound erupting in the silent room.

There’s pleasure coiling behind your pussy. “Kankuro, fuck,”

“What is it?”

“Fuck me,” You whine, pulling on his hair. “Please, baby, please. I need it.”

His gaze drops from your face to where he’s burying himself in your tight cunt. He nods before lifting his eyes. “Alright, alright.”

You flash him a grin and he jolts, his cock twitching deep. You cling to him, desperate and a little dizzy. You can’t remember the last time it was ever like this. Swallowing, you know that’s a lie. It’s always been him. He’s so big and you’re so fucking full. He fills you to the brim, cock dragging against your walls.

He's finally picked up his rhythm. Hammering into you, each deep stroke better than the last. Your orgasm takes you by surprise. You lurch against him when you moan. You melt, boneless, like jelly. You’re loose and wet and fucking perfect. His nose presses into your cheek as he grinds into you.

“Fuck, puppet. Missed the feeling of you on my cock.”

You snort, pulling yourself closer to him. Guttural grunts and low growls meet your ear. Heavy breaths that bounce around the empty room. It’s a brutal taking, and you are not wet enough. Tears pool in your eyes, threatening to fall with every harsh thrust. You take what you're given, no complaints. Kankuro readjusts, moving you to where you are firmly planted on his thighs, giving him a better angle. You’re bouncing with each thrust from his cock now. He’s deep, so deep you can see the bulge of him in your tummy. You pull his hair, grinning when he hisses.

“You got one more for me?”

He knows you can’t talk. He knows you’re fucked out, gone stupid on his cock. Just like he said he would. He loves when you get like this. He loves it even more because you asked for it. You move, opening up your legs a little wider. He groans feeling himself sink deeper into you. You’re puffy and raw and you’re living for it. Nodding, his name falls from your lips.

It builds and builds and builds until it has nowhere to go. It roars forward, jolting you, a scream ripped from your throat and your nails digging into him so hard you can feel when he starts to bleed. Kankuro is there. He holds you into place, lips grazing your cheek. He fucks you through it all, jamming himself into your searing overstimulated sex, he meets his end. His grip tightens, a low gravel filled groan comes from deep in his chest, filling you up. You feel the drag of his necklace when he lifts his head to trail kisses across your sweaty skin.

“Fucking hell,” he mutters, breaking the silence.

You pull him on top of you, hugging him tightly to you. You bask in the feel of him. You hadn’t realized how much you’d been missing him until you were drunk off of him. You’re aching and sore but you refuse to move away from him. His eyes are still dark and heavy-lidded as he regards you.

“Keep me in there,” he tells you and you just smile.

“Always.” You hum, scratching his head with your nails. “Missed you.”

“I missed you, baby. Always miss you.”

You swallow suddenly feeling shy. Kankuro pulls himself up, pushing loose strands of hair out of your face. He looks at you, really looks at you. Eyes roaming all over your face. He doesn’t miss a thing, never has. He knows you like the back of his hand.

“What is it?”

“Six months, Kuro. Six months of nothing from you. Then I come home to a leech on your arm.”

Even after he’s fucked you silly your feelings are hurt. Almost like a bratty little kid that didn’t get what you wanted. It didn’t matter that you had a point. He had all the time in the world to tell you he missed you, but he waited until you were right on the verge of giving up. He may be a master of puppets, but you don’t like being played with.

“You’re right. I should’ve made you a priority. I’m sorry.”

It’s not what you want, but for now, it’ll be good enough.

#kankuro x reader #kankuro x you #kankuro one shot #kankuro smut #kankuro fanfic #kankuro fanfiction #naruto fanfiction

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eywa-eveng · 2 years

Text

ɪɪ. sᴇᴄᴏɴᴅ ᴛᴏ ɴᴏɴᴇ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ᴊᴀᴋᴇ sᴜʟʟʏ, sᴜʟʟʏ ғᴀᴍɪʟʏ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴹᴱᵀᴷᴬᵞᴵᴺᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 12.3k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst, fluff

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – widower!Jake, slight injury

ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪɪɪ – ᴘᴀʀᴛ ɪᴠ

ᴛᴀɢ ʟɪsᴛ – @eywas-heir @fanboyluvr @amiets2 @neteyamforlife @itscheybaby @sunrays404 @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @eternallyvenus @bobojojoba69 @behindthearcane @elegantkidfansoul @goldenmoonbeam @ladylovegood-69 @myheartfollower @pinkiemme @arminsgfloll @wtf-why-do-i-gotta-do-this @onlyreadz

A storm rolled in with the darkness of eclipse, shutting the bright eye of the sky as swollen clouds blotted out the pale light of Naranawm and the stars. Wind howled through the night like screaming banshees, and waves hissed as they crashed to shore. Even now the water is still dark and turbulent, choked with seafoam as the waves rise as high as leaping nalutsa past the safety of the seawall. The small outcroppings of sand and stone are drowned in the rising tide as the storm rages on. Now, it is close to midday but the only light bleeding through the thick covering of clouds comes in bright flashes of lightning that rend the sky in splinters of gleaming white. It is as dazzling as it is dangerous.

The waves have grown high enough to splash over the hanging paths that flow like woven rivers throughout the village, wetting your feet as you return from your sister’s marui. Rain means the day is spent inside, away from the fitful waters that could easily trap even the strongest swimmer of the clan. It is a time for menial tasks, weaving, crafting, and mending. Ronal had traded your finished baskets for another filled with freshly dyed sea fronds and shells she had collected, dismissing you for the day. You sift through the materials on your way home, nearly tripping over Tuk as she sits outside your marui.

Her legs hang dangerously over the edge of the path, the strength of the tide pushing and pulling her skinny limbs as it so pleases. Another wave could sweep her away from your marui and you’re quick to pull her away, tutting over her lack of sense until you remember this is the first storm that’s passed over Awa’atlu since her arrival. Storms do not shake the forest as they do the sea. Your arm catches her waist, lifting her to your hip to carry her inside. She is already chattering about how dull the day has been having been confined to her family’s marui all morning.

“It is only rain.” She says as you set her down inside. She stays at your side, pacing in your shadow as you relight the torches that substitute the sun’s light. Soft shadows shiver and jump in the warm glow of the flickering firelight, tracing dark shapes across the woven walls as Tuk explores your home. It is her first time here and you don’t mind her curiosity as she leafs through your belongings. There is nothing secret to be found in the things that fill the space of your home. She stops before your weapons, yellow eyes drawing over the sea crystal blade of your largest spear. It is a weapon meant for battle and hunting. Every member of the clan has one, but you are not a hunter nor a warrior. It is something you’ve seldom touched since its construction following the completion of your rites as one of the People. Instead you keep to smaller spears and arrows when weapons are needed.

“Rain makes the ocean hostile. Even the strongest swimmers can be trapped under a tall wave. It is best to stay out of the water until the storm has passed.”

“But it’s so boring!” She grouses, coming up beside you with your box of beads and combs in hand. “Sa’nok, can I play with your hair?” You nod, having settled yourself to begin making something of the supplies your sister had given you. There are glimmering shells and beautifully made beads, enough to keep your hands busy for hours to come. By the time someone else comes rushing into your marui you’re nearly done knotting together the intricate pattern of a new top. Neteyam looks frantic as he ducks inside the closed flap, wiping rain from his brow.

“Sa’nok, have you seen–Tuk!” He calms as soon as he sees his sister seated happily at your side, fingers still playing in the long waves of your hair. Her braids are thick and clumsy as she threads shells and beads into each loop but she seems content with the work she’s done. She’s gentle in her work, never pulling or tangling as she goes.

“I have been looking for you. Do not go off without saying where you are going. You know Sempul doesn’t like that.” In the corner of your eye you see Tuk’s ears droop and she moves in closer to you, hands holding your arm for comfort as she hides her face in your hair. Neteyam’s expression softens at the sight. His voice may be lighter with youth but when he speaks it carries the weight of Jake’s words. He is the eldest son, a heavy burden to bear. It is expected that he will look after his siblings as well as his father does and the stress of it must prick at his heart the same as it does any parent’s. More so considering the blame that is laid at his feet when he fails to meet his father’s expectations. You’ve seen it when Lo’ak got himself into trouble, the great disappointment shining in Jake’s eyes as he blamed one son for the actions of another. If there are cords twining the Sully family together it pains you to imagine how frayed each of them might be. Neteyam to Lo’ak, Jake to his sons. It makes your heart heavy to think of the pain each of them bears trying to keep each other safe and happy, but it is the nature of a family. Just as the thread between you and Ronal had grown thin upon the Sullys’ arrival these things can be mended with time. It is the way of the All Mother’s great balance. In life there is both darkness and light and both must be felt equally despite the pain of it.

“I’m not mad, Tuk,” Neteyam says finally, kneeling beside you and his sister. “I was worried.” She nods and moves from her place hidden in the thick tresses of your hair. The two of them remain by your side, talking between themselves as you continue your crafting.

The storm wanes as the day comes to a close, thick clouds parting enough that the tied flap of the marui can be raised once more. Neteyam does it for you, eager to help when you mention the quieting winds. What had been incessant howling earlier has soothed to a soft whisper that has warmed in the soft, misting rain. The tide is still high but the water isn’t so choppy without great gusts of wind stirring the water. Tuk is quick to abandon her braiding to bask in the revealed light of eclipse. For a few minutes there’s nothing but brilliant yellow light cast over the island before it winks out like a torch being snuffed. Light is quick to return as the stars begin to shine and the darkened ocean finally finds its light as the stilled waters give way to the faint glow of syuratan hidden beneath the wavering surface. Tuk hangs over the edge, little legs kicking in the air as she sticks her head into the calmed waters. She rises with a giggling splash accompanied by the clicking of an ilu as the larger animals finally emerge from their shelter beneath the floating village.

The rest of Awa’atlu resurfaces as well, breathing a great sigh of relief as if rising after a long dive. Children just as restless as Tuk rush to the water’s edge and she goes to play with them a small ways down the path. Her voice is still clear as you begin to prepare for dinner, lighting a cookfire and gathering ingredients. Usually the meals you prepare at home are for yourself only so it is a welcomed change to have more mouths to feed. Happiness swells like cresting waves in your chest as you watch the two of them eat, enjoying the food you’ve made for them. It is another moment of stolen motherhood. They are not your children but you feel responsible for them. For their health, for their happiness.

It is not only because you were tsakarem. There will always be a piece of you that wants to look after the members of your clan but these children–Jakesully’s children–feel different when you think of them. It makes your heart break and mend all at once as Tuk makes herself comfortable in the cradle of your folded legs when she’s done eating, content to fall asleep against your chest as you talk with Neteyam. Your conversation is aimless as you speak over the dying cookfire, torches slowly dwindling their light until there’s only the blue glow of Pandora around you. He tells you of his exploration around the island and his training with Ao’nung and the others.

“They laugh at me because I cannot throw a spear. I was taught to use a bow. Throwing arrows without it seems strange.” His complaint holds no malice. There is a smile playing on his lips. No longer are the arguments between the children rife with malice. Now there are only well humored jokes between friends, like teasing siblings.

“You will learn,” you hum. “It is hard to master a spear. I could not throw in a straight line for many months when I was first learning. Ao’nung was the same. Watch when you’re training. Sometimes he will still throw a bit to the left. Learning when to release takes patience.”

It’s in the pale light that Neteyam’s face seems to change, drawing into a severe expression as his eyes empty of mirth despite your light tone. When he looks up at you again there’s something heavy and longing in his eyes.

“I don’t know if ma sempul has said it, but thank you. For everything. I know that we are outsiders and that tsahìk Ronal did not want us here to start. But you have made this place feel like home for us. For me.” Your lips part to say something but all that forms on your tongue is his name, filled with a heavy maternal anguish. Here is this child taken from his home and all that he’s known because there are demons looking for his blood. He is fighting. Everyday he has to fight to find happiness here under such dire circumstances. There are times when you see them forget, when Awa’atlu truly seems like home but the soul doesn’t forget where it’s been.

“Oh, Neteyam,” you say again, trying to reach for him. He lets you comfort him for only a moment before standing.

“It is late. My father will be wondering where we are.” And like that the illusion shatters. You are not his mother. It is not your place to soothe and placate. It’s a small miracle that he does not take Tuk from your arms, that he lets you walk beside him back to his marui. Jake is still awake though Kiri and Lo’ak have gone to sleep for the night. He takes Tuk from you to lay her down in her usual place and you take a steadying breath before placing a hesitant hand on Neteyam’s head. His shoulders raise for a moment, tail stiffening behind him before he slowly relaxes and leans into your touch.

He wants to be comforted, you realize, but it seems that he’s gone without for so long that he’s forgotten how to accept it. Not for the first time your thoughts stray to his mother. She’s little more than a wisp of a thought in your mind, vague and undefined. It’s the one thing you can’t bring yourself to ask them about despite the itching in the back of your head to know even as little as her name. But the thought of her must be like a healing wound to the family she’s left behind and you won’t be the one to tear at their scars until they’re bleeding anew.

Neteyam leans against your side, not hugging but allowing you to smooth over his braids for a moment longer until he squares his shoulders and steps away. His eyes are towards his feet, avoiding your knowing gaze as he bids you goodnight. There’s a hesitance in his steps as if he is forcing himself towards his own bedroll in the marui. Whatever comfort he has taken in your gentle touch has soothed and disturbed his soul in equal parts. There’s conflict in his eyes when you finally see them flashing in the darkness of their home. He wants to accept your affection but something is holding him back. Before you can ask Jake takes his son’s place beside you, pulling you away from the sleeping children towards the beach. The water is colder than usual and nearly to your knees as the shore is buried beneath the heightened tide.

“I missed you today.” He says as he pulls you further into the water. There are others around, already enjoying the ocean’s embrace after going a day without it. The air is filled with the hushed sounds of laughter and lapping water.

“I heard you were out hunting.” Ronal had given you simple chores today but Tonowari was nowhere to be seen each time you went to deliver your mending and weaving to your sister. You assumed he’d taken a small party inland to hunt in the flooded rivers as they usually do when the ocean becomes inhospitable. Jake has proved to be a skilled hunter in the time since he’s arrived at Awa’atlu and it’s curried him favor with the olo'eyktan.

“Yeah,” he groans, rolling his shoulders back.

“Are you tired? You should rest.” Your ears perk up in concern.

“Nah, I’d rather spend time with you.” It makes your heart flutter in your chest but the happiness is dampened by the feeling of selfishness. This man is not yours and yet he makes your heart soar with only a few words. It isn’t fair to him or yourself to be so fixated on the feeling but you can hardly help the way you feel. If it were possible to tear the roots of affection from your chest and leave only thoughts of a newly kindled friendship, you would do it without hesitation. But Eywa was seen fit to fill your vitra with dangerous desire. You want to ask the Great Mother what she wants with you, why she’s chosen to test you in this way, but it will do no good. The seed has been planted and you must helplessly watch it blossom despite the inevitability of your feelings wilting in the face of rejection.

In the pale blue light of the watchful eye above, you decide to toss those thoughts to the wind. Jake is smiling at you like he’s never seen anything lovelier than your face in the starlight and it makes you want to be reckless with your heart if only for one night. Before eclipse breaks and the sun returns you’ll pretend that this man is yours no matter the pain that will come later.

“Come. I will race you to the seawall.” It is a game played between more novice swimmers, children trying to prove their prowess amongst their friends but Jake smiles anyway. Nì’eveng you’ve taken to calling him. Childish. The look on his face is nothing but playful as you both dive into the open water. There is no doubt that you’ll beat him. Even as he’s steadily improved in the water he still isn’t built for the ocean the same as you. Your body is strong from your arms to your tail and Jake is woefully behind by the time you climb onto the lowest levels of the terraces. They’re alight with shades of green, blue, and purple that shine brighter with each step you take towards the top. But Jake is faster on land, longer legs easily bounding up the terraces until he catches you by the waist just before you reach the top. It’s the closest the two of you have ever been as he swings you in a circle until your laughter echoes across the darkened sky. His arms don’t move when he sets you down. Instead his face finds the column of your neck, purrs sounding in your ears as his nose traces over the rippling stripes of your skin.

“Got you.” His voice is an entrancing drawl that sends a shiver down your spine. It feels as if the world has tilted and only you feel the shift as Jake’s hands soothe over your waist, keeping you close to his chest as he noses behind your ear. It’s intimate in a way you’ve never experienced. There has never been anyone to court you, to treat you with such affection. No man of the Metkayina would dare even after Tonowari passed over you in favor of your sister. Yet here is this man from a place you’ve never seen, giving you everything that you’ve ever wanted.

“You caught me.” You agree and Jake laughs against the shell of your ear. He mumbles something as he squeezes you closer. You turn in his arms, face drawn in confusion.

“Always,” he says again. “I’ll always catch you.” His forehead presses to yours bright eyes clouding your vision of anything other than him.

“I’m not running.” It’s a lie but you say it to preserve the fantasy. Just for this night you want to pretend that you belong to him in truth.

“You are.” He says and the illusion is shattered. His arms around you begin to feel too tight and his breath too close as it washes over your parted lips. This isn’t how you should be acting with a mated man no matter how you feel towards him. But when you try to pull away his arms tighten.

“There you go again. What are you running from, girl?” You shake your head, voice lost somewhere in your throat as you try to do exactly what you’ve said you aren’t. You want to run away but your heart will stay with you. These feelings of yours won’t be easily abandoned as they beat in your chest like a drum. They will follow you no matter how far you go. You don’t get farther than turning away from him before he has you in his arms again. His hand settles over your thumping heart, fingertips tracing over the shape of your tattoo.

“I feel you,” he says, hand moving from your fluttering heart to your throat, “I hear you.” Your breathing comes in stuttered draws, lungs suddenly constricted with the wave of emotions crashing inside you. “I See you.” He says finally, lips caressing your ear. When your shuddering breaths calm he turns you to face him again. All that beams in his eyes is sincerity. Yearning and something close to desperation. He wants you to accept him.

“You’re not mine.” It’s a warbled cry as tears swell in your eyes.

“I’m yours. I’m all yours, yawne.” It makes your knees go weak and you fall from his arms, landing gracelessly in the water at your feet.

“I can’t do this.” Jake flinches back, his hands falling from where they’d been reaching out to you. “You’ve mated with another. I can’t have you.”

Never have you heard of a mated pair in which one of them had been mated before. When a mate dies, that does not make room for another. Tsaheylu is sacred, shared only between two lovers. What Jake is asking is something your heart cannot understand. The thoughts of the woman you’ve never met, the woman that came before you, keeps you from letting yourself love him fully. He is hers. Whatever part of him wants you now, it is not the whole of him. It is inevitable that when mates are separated by death, a part of the living dies with the one that went to Eywa. He will always be hers before he is yours. Or perhaps Jakesully will be different as he is in all things.

He is Na’vi but he was also tawtute. It was Eywa that decided his fate as Toruk Makto, that allowed him to have the body that he does today. Perhaps you are simply another part of his fate. Another bead in his songcord. Each thought swims through your head quicker than the last, growing more absurd with each passing moment. It would be so easy to ignore it, to reach out and be with Jake in the way that he’s asking you to. But your heart is delicate, your soul conflicted. He isn’t yours. And yet he is. His heart is in his hands as he stares at you, wiping the tears from your eyes.

“Don’t cry, pretty girl. You’ve got me. I’m here. Whenever you want me, I’m here. I promise.” He carries you home once you’ve cried yourself dry, laying you down and pressing a kiss to your forehead before going to join his children. It breaks your heart to watch him leave but it is where he belongs. His children will always need him more than you. A lonely tsakarem will always pale in comparison to the remnants of the life he led before you met. His mate, their children. If you accept him it will be as if you are a mismatched bead looped at the end of a bracelet. Dull and out of place.

For once you do not rise with the sun as it breaks from behind Naranawm’s shadow. There’s a soreness in your eyes as you try to shield them from the burning white light of the morning sun as it burns unfettered after spending a day under heavy clouds. Tears have dried on your cheeks and Tuk’s braids have become tangled and undone after what was surely a fitful sleep. You remove them slowly, collecting all the ornaments she added as they fall into your lap. There are things that need to be done, tasks that need completing, but you ignore those responsibilities to hide your face in the forest. You take your time in bathing and cleaning your hair, spending too long in the memories of the hands that touched you last night. It’s as if he’s still with you. So gentle and earnest as he caressed your skin.

The memories linger like a bruise when you finally drag yourself from the bathing pool, sore and shameful. Once you’ve dressed you abandon the village to visit the one place you’ve been avoiding since the moment you met Jakesully. There was fear in your heart at the thought of bonding with the Ranteng Utralti. Fear of what the Great Mother might show you, what your ancestors might tell you. It still lingers even as you leave your ilu to bask in the pale purple light of the glowing fronds of the spirit tree. Tree spirits swim around you, yellow fish shining bright as stars. The waters around the tree are deserted aside from the animals. No one to judge your hesitancy to commune with Eywa after so long. The fronds of the tree sway in the gentle current, waiting patiently for you to gather the courage to make tsaheylu. It nearly knocks the breath from your lungs when you finally join your tswin to the tree.

There are no thoughts in your mind as you join Eywa. There is no one that you want to see, no ancestor you wish to visit, but the Great Mother embraces you still. It feels like the gentlest hug as the colors flashing behind your eyes fades to something tangible yet distant all the same.

Eywa has brought you to a place you do not know. It is like the deep forest of Awa’atlu yet different. The air doesn’t carry the scent of the sea. It smells rich and loamy as thick grass cushions each of your curious steps. Trees that seem to touch the sky grow around you and sunlight peaks through the leaves in dappled beams, warming your skin for only a moment before you pass beneath another shadow. In the richly colored forest you look out of place. Skin bright as polished river stone, beaming through the deep greens of the foliage. You walk until you see something of interest. The trees thin to a small clearing and you stop in your tracks. The vision wavers as you fight against what the Great Mother has to show you, shimmering like heat rising off sand before solidifying as you force your heartbeat to calm.

A long structure sits before you. Grayish black the same as the buzzing ikran that had carried Norm and Max across the ocean. Metal, Jake had called it. You’ve only ever heard the word. It is part of the Na’vi Way set by the Three Laws of Eywa. Never use metals from the ground. It is something made from digging and stripping the earth. Harmful. It tosses off beams of light as you slink closer, staying close to the ground despite the lack of danger. There’s another metal beast in the clearing. Seemingly broken and covered in moss and vines. Inside is a small headless skeleton with two arrows through its ribs. Tawtute. They have been dead for long enough to turn to bone and yet their strange metal body has not returned to the earth it was stripped from. Even the well-made arrows have gathered rot where Eywa has begun to reclaim them.

It seems so unnatural for the metal to be so unflinching and yet you can’t temper your curiosity. You lean closer only to burn your hands on the shiny beast as if you’ve touched an open flame. Whatever this metal material is, it collects heat like a black stone left in the sun. The tawtute structure is just as smoldering beneath your skin as you vault inside. The floor makes a sound like shifting seashells as you land, a strange material like shards of crystal tinkling underfoot as you slink through the small space, crouching in the unaccommodating space. It feels odd to find yourself in a place like this and yet this is where Eywa wants you to be.

There is a Law against things like this. Laying brick, building that which cannot be renewed or replenished. Metal remains. It is cold inside despite the sun shining just beyond the opening in the wall, and very little of Pandora has dared to reach inside. This is a place of sawtute and the forest recognizes that. Nothing other than pollen and lichen has found its way inside. There is something here for you. Something Eywa needs you to see among the ruins of the sawtute. There’s a childlike curiosity to your exploration as you pick through the remains of the banished demons.

There are strange pieces of color, thin as leaves cut into neat shapes. They’re untouched by rot yet the colors seem wrong, slightly faded like an old mat left in the sun. There are people captured in the strange, dull threads of color. Two of them look familiar in a distant way, like you’d seen them from afar but only once. It isn’t until you bring the tiny thing close to your face that you realize you’ve seen pieces of these women in other people. Their eyes, their noses. Small details that you’ve noticed in others. The uniltìrantokx is even wearing a necklace you’ve seen before though it takes you a beat to place who’d worn it.

“Kiri?” The frozen memory jumps from your fingers like you’ve been struck and crystal shards dig into your knees as you stumble to the ground. The sharp pain rushes through you with startling vividness. Never have you been harmed while cradled in the Great Mother’s arms and the pain disrupts the vision, twisting and changing it as you try to stand. Light contorts and a sharp pain splits through your head, thrusting you back into your body with an aborted gasp.

Bubbles cloud your vision as you try to calm your racing mind. Who were those women with faces so familiar they seemed nearly tangible. Your mind races as your lungs pinch with exertion after all your air left in a warbled cry. Air seems far out of reach as you swim towards the light of the sun kissing the gentle waves. You surface with a strangled shout that echoes across the floating islands of the Cove, only treading water long enough to catch your breath. Your heart thunders in your chest as your ears cloud with the sound of your rushing blood. It takes all your focus to force your body to silence, to calm. Absently, you check your knees for blood, half expecting to find shards still embedded in your skin. When you find nothing other than the pattern of your skin your heart steadies enough for you to dive again. This time there is no hesitation as you connect to the Ranteng Utralti. There is a place for you in what Eywa has shown you. Everyone lives within the Great Mother. She remembers. Someone had been there before you. Someone precious to you. The Great Mother knows your heart, knows what it is you seek. A purpose. An answer.

Show me, you whisper in your mind. Tell me.

The vision is different as the flashing colors fade to night, the seldom patches of sky alight with stars and a gentle breeze lifting the curls of your hair as you stand at the precipice of a spiraling tree root. The sounds floating through the darkness are so different from the steady lapping of water. There is life all around you, just beyond sight as your footsteps stir up bursts of green syuratan. Everything feels new, like you’re a child again as you walk along the path the Great Mother has set you on. Specks of white like tanhì glow through the soft light of blue and purple leaves overhead, drifting on the faint breeze. They descend like a gentle rain and feel just as faint as one lands in your outstretched hand. More follow, tickling across your skin as they turn your body a pure shade of white. Eywa’s presence strengthens with each one that brushes against you and you realize they must be atokirina’. So different from the radiant seeds of your own spirit tree and yet the feeling is the same.

They dance over your body like lapping waves before departing in a glimmering cloud. It would be lovely to watch them float away if an echoing screech didn’t follow their departure. You don’t dare to turn and face what made such a deafening noise. Instead you clumsily sprint towards cover, wide tail doing little to balance your strides as you find an alcove in a tree to hide yourself. The bark is rough against your skin after being so gently touched by the hands of the Great Mother and your vision wavers once more as fear punches through your chest in an acidic burst. Never have you encountered danger when connected to the Ranteng Utralti. Never have you known Eywa to lead those seeking guidance into peril. But you’ve been hurt, you’ve bled. And now another shriek crashes through the quiet of the forest, echoing eerily through the treetops. The distant branches seem to shudder, shedding leaves as something crashes through the foliage. Is this the result of your covetous heart? The Great Mother turning her back on you?

A scream rips from your throat, nearly burning with its intensity as a giant ikran descends through the hole it’s torn through the canopy. The roots shudder beneath its mighty weight as it lands where you’d been standing and your thick limbs tremble clumsily, hands tucking into the groves of the tree bark to keep yourself upright and hidden. This beast is like no ikran you’ve ever seen though you’ve seen so few in the distant atolls of the Metkayina. Yet this one seems intrinsically different. Large and bright in the night as it spreads its fearsome wings, fanged jaw opening to let out another bellow that has your ears folding tight against your head. A pained noise slips from your lips as its voice splits through your head and it’s enough to draw the creature’s attention to you. Its eyes seem to find you even in the shadows and you’re reminded that the two of you are bright beings in a darkened forest. For a moment your heart stops and yet the beast doesn’t charge, doesn’t let out another terrifying scream. Instead it sits as if waiting for you to show yourself.

Every instinct carved into you since birth begs you to stay hidden and yet, with hesitant steps, you emerge from your hiding place. If this is your punishment for daring to think a man like Jake could ever be yours then you’ll have to face it.

The ikran fixes its four eyes on you, wings spreading to block anything but the warm shades of its striped skin. It is the color of the sun in a sea of shades of green and blue, a torch over the ocean. A fire, your mind sings. Wings like flames. The song of Toruk Makto. It is one you remember well, sung more often in the years after the sawtute were banished from Pandora. The ikran before you is no ikran. It is toruk. Last Shadow. A breath leaves you in an awed rush as tears begin to burn in your eyes. Toruk stays as still as an animal can be as you approach him. There is still fear in your heart, something instinctual that is sewn into the very fabric of your soul. And yet it bleeds away as you reach to touch him. Part of you still expects a quick reproach, a snap of his mighty jaw to remove your hand. But he only shifts his weight and watches as you touch the blue crests of his head. Any fear still lingering in your chest dissipates at the feeling of his head in the palm of your small hand.

You came to the Great Mother with a storm wailing inside you, burying you beneath the dark waters of uncertainty, and she has eased it. All at once the dark clouds of your conflicted spirit seem to part and warmth blooms in its place. Toruk shuts his eyes and leans further into your hand as if he too can feel the stillness finally easing inside you.

He is your answer. Eywa has heard you.

The days that follow pass in a haze. Even as your heart has been soothed your mind is still racing. It’s all you can do to pick up with your daily tasks, to pretend the Great Mother hasn’t just laid a magnificent blessing into your hands.

“Sa’nok, watch me!” Naleyä squeals before gulping in a deep breath and diving to the bottom of the pool, drawing you out of your own head. The tide pools are still overflowing after the storm and it’s made the children more confident now that the water has grown a bit deeper. They’re light as seabirds floating on their round tummies as they paddle in circles around you, daring to dive for a few moments before resurfacing with little gasps and eager smiles. It’s still shallow enough that you could reach Naleyä just by bending down but she seems determined to prove how well she’s learned as she picks up a shell resting at the bottom to bring you when she resurfaces. Mu’rak intercepts the gift, curious fingers taking the shell before he passes it to you for approval. It’s a simple shell. Flat and ridged, the color of a pinkish sunrise. You’ve collected many of them in your life but each is just as precious as the last. More so when gifted by one of your students. You press the shell to your lips before tucking it away in your medicine pouch.

“Me!” Peylil says, already filling his lungs with a big gust of air but you deflate him with a pinch of your fingers on his puffed cheeks. He’s young, too young to have even fully grown his tswin braid. He’s eager to follow but he’s only just learned to swim, hands still gripping cautiously at your loincloth to keep from floating too far in the pool. It will take some time before he is ready to dive, even in the shallowest of waters. He pouts up at you and for a moment he almost reminds you of Tuk. The thought is easily plucked away by the sound of a horn. It isn’t the same sound that had announced the arrival of the Sullys and there are no swooping silhouettes emerging from the haze of sunlight. Instead your eyes find the break in the sprawling seawall that lines the horizon. A rush of water rises like a cloud and through the mist comes the familiar crest of a tulkun. In an instant the feelings sitting like stones in your chest turn to dust and fall away. The tulkun have returned.

Once more Awa’atlu stops but there isn’t a storm to dampen this day. Everything has been abandoned to welcome the tulkun home. It is a time for reunions. For stories of what has come to pass since the tulkun last graced the waters of Awa’atlu. Whatever thoughts still lingers in your head are lost in the face of sharing this moment with those you hold dearest. The children are gathered quickly by their parents eager to introduce the younglings to their spirit family. You set off to find the children that have claimed your heart, but Kiri is the only one left inside when you reach the Sully marui looking as downtrodden as she’s been in the weeks since her seizure. It makes you wonder what the Great Mother might have shown her on that day. You’ve yet to mention what you’d seen of her mother, but if Eywa blessed with a meeting with toruk, then Kiri could’ve seen something truly amazing. And yet she hasn’t spoken of what she saw or who she spoke to. It isn’t your place to ask. Connection to the spirit tree is a private commune with the Great Mother and you won’t begrudge her that.

This will not erase her pain but it is your hope that it will ease her spirit even for a moment. Kiri shines so brightly with the light of Eywa and she will surely bloom in the majesty of the tulkun. She barely looks up when you enter the marui, ears lifting only slightly to acknowledge you despite the smile you feel overtaking your face.

“Kiri, come!” When she doesn’t move you guide her to her feet with gentle hands. She returns the soft touch though she is hesitant to heed your urging towards the water.

“What?” She groans but her attitude does little to deter you. She is still young, still hurting. Her words are only as harsh as whatever she is feeling and you’re eager to soothe her pains.

“What is it?” Her voice stops short as you finally guide her outside. She squints in the sun and you wonder when she last left home. For a moment your smile falls and you turn to look at her fully, holding her hands in yours as you look her over with the sharp eyes of a tsakarem. She is the same as you last saw her. Still dulled. Her light has dimmed and it aches your heart to see her faith slip. Eywa has not turned her back on Kiri. It’s clear to see in the way the fish seem to gravitate towards her as you lead her into the water. They mingle around her ankles like they’re caught in a whirling tide but she hardly notices as her eyes take in the spectacle playing out over the horizon. Yellow eyes widen in awe as the two of you watch the village become whole once more. Her hand tightens in yours as she looks to you with the first sparks of excitement shining in her eyes. Suddenly she’s pulling you along, eagerly dragging you along with her.

“Sa’nok!” Tuk shouts gleefully, already bouncing with excitement. She stands behind Kiri on her ilu, hands on her sister’s shoulders as they follow you into the flood of Na’vi and tulkun, tsurak and ilu. The whole of Awa’atlu has poured into the sea and voices rise joyously over the blue waters. It is the blissful sound of the People and tulkun as siblings are reunited after the season apart.

“There! Do you see her? That is my spirit sister.” Your voice is pitched with excitement as Kiri and Tuk ride beside you. The water is warm as you urge your ilu to dive. She chitters happily, feeling the elation coursing through you through tsaheylu. Veyan hums eagerly when her eyes finally see you riding towards her, dismounting as you swim in close. Her voice is a warm timber that sings through the water as you greet her.

«Veyan! Oel ngati kameie.»

«Oel ngati kameie, tsmuke. I am happy to see you.» Her skin feels welcoming beneath your hands as you press your forehead just above her eyes in a gentle embrace. «Who have you brought with you?» She asks when you part. Kiri and Tuk have kept close to you, signing a respectful greeting when Veyan’s eyes land on them. Kiri hugs close to her ilu as Tuk clings to your back, both bashful in the face of your spirit sister. Veyan is a lovely being known for her beautiful voice and playful disposition. She is as curious as they are upon first meeting.

«This is Kiri and this is Tuk.» You gesture to each of them in turn. Names are harder to convey without a voice and you name each with words that are easily signed. Kiri you call txanatan for how brightly she reflects Eywa’s light, and Tuk is weopxtsyìp; little wave. It is a common name tulkun say before a child is properly introduced.

«It seems now is a time for children.» Veyan laughs, pointing her snout across the water. Many Na’vi and tulkun dance in the blue waters but you recognize who she has gestured to.

Ronal is a short distance away and just as you always are you’re struck by your sister’s smile. It’s a rare sight to see the stoic tsahìk so open and unburdened as she speaks with her spirit sister. Roa looks radiant as she cradles a calf beneath her fin. A gorgeous son. You taste the sea on your tongue as a smile breaks across your face. After so long Roa has finally had her child. He looks precious swimming next to his mother, curious eyes taking in the world around him. Just as you’re about to suggest the girls introduce themselves to the young calf they sign that they need air, swimming to the surface.

«They must be a long way from home.» Veyan notes, keen eyes watching their shadows as they float overhead. It is easy to tell their differences. Their eyes, their tails. It’s made clearer as Rotxo finds them, wide limbs clashing with their willowy frames as he gestures for them to follow him. Both you and Veyan surface for a breath as you watch them all swim away. Neteyam is nearby as well, smiling wide as he watches the tulkun breach and twirl, playfully flapping their fins as skimwings fly overhead.

«Is he one of yours too?» Veyan asks when you name each of them properly.

«None of them are mine.» Your tone is dejected as you say the words as you sign. Veyan’s orange eyes roll at your denial.

«I can see it as plainly as the sky, tsmuke. They are your children.» The sound of Roa’s voice raises from beneath you as Ronal and her spirit sister come to join you and yours.

«Children?» The older tulkun asks curiously. She has known you since you were young, seen you through many seasons of your life. Roa is just as much your sister as she is Ronal’s even if the two of you do not share the bond of tsaheylu. You greet her happily, giving her well wishes on the birth of her son. She thanks you with a happy trill, nudging him forward for a shy greeting.

«Three of them.» Veyan says happily, fins fluttering in excitement and nearly shaking you back into the water.

«Four.» Ronal corrects her. «Two sons and two daughters.»

«When did this happen?» Roa asks. You lay back on Veyan’s fin, watching the sky as you try to gather the courage to speak your feelings into the air. You’ve spent months keeping them tucked close to your chest. It is plain to see how deeply you feel for Jake and yet you’ve refused to admit it, like he will disappear if you so much as whisper your affections to anyone. At first it felt wrong to so shamelessly pine for a man that was already spoken for but Eywa has proven you wrong. Now you are unlearning such ideas but it is slow going like pulling the stray threads of a knot. It has taken so much patience and trust in the Great Mother to loosen your grip on the thoughts of desiring a man like Jake being treacherous and wrong. In death, tsaheylu is broken. An ikran may only ride with one hunter in their whole life, but when a spirit sibling is lost another may rise to take their place if a Na’vi so chooses to accept. It is not betrayal, it is balance. As Eywa intends all things to be.

Yet there is still hesitancy in your words as you tell your sisters about Jake. How he came to Awa’atlu seeking uturu, how you challenged Ronal before the clan to allow him and his family to stay, the way your heart has been so easily taken by the Sullys.

«She is in love.» Ronal says, sour attitude clear even as her fingers shape the words. «But stubborn like a child.» Her voice is rife with disappointment. Not at your desire, but your unwillingness to act upon it.

She still taunts you. Making jabs about your empty home knowing that you could so easily join the Sully family if only you let yourself. Ronal may be your elder sister but she is also tsahìk. The will of Eywa is hers to interpret and the Great Mother has made her intentions clear. Yet the longer you go without acknowledging the truth of what you both know the more abrasive she becomes at the mention of it. Now she has grown far past pointed remarks. It has become an argument at even a passing mention. If either tulkun hears the frustration in Ronal’s tone they choose to ignore it. Though even her body has gone tense with dissatisfaction as she floats beside Roa.

«At last?» Veyan rolls over, clearly elated at the news. It knocks you back into the water with her. You take in the shapes of her tattoos on her belly as she spins. The same ones you’ve traced countless times in the years since you’ve bonded. This is news that she has been waiting for since the two of you passed your rites together. Finally you have found a mate. And yet your heart can’t let it be so simple even when what you want is so close at hand.

Jake has kept to the fringes of your life since the night on the terraces. He lingers, just out of reach. Whenever you want me, he said. His heart won’t stray from those words, from you. Even as you pass him in the village he doesn’t dare to speak or touch yet his eyes follow you, gaze wistful as he watches in silence.

«But he is already mated.» You tell them. Ronal narrows her eyes.

«His mate has returned to Eywa.» She quickly corrects you.

«Tsmuke, Eywa sends blessings for a reason. The Great Mother would not give you such a gift if you were not meant to accept it. He has chosen you. All you must do now is choose him.» Roa advises.

«There will be a celebration tonight.» Veyan chimes happily. «You must dress beautifully and go to him. I ask Eywa to bless this union.» Roa seconds her enthusiasm but Ronal keeps any kind words to herself until the two of you have surfaced once more to prepare for the evening. It is nearing eclipse, the sky faded to shades of pink and purple as night closes in. Ronal will have many things to do before the last sparks of sunlight fade from the sky. It is the duty of tsahìk to lead ceremonies and tonight marks one of the clan’s most sacred celebrations.

“Tsmuke,” Ronal says finally, joining you in your marui. Her tone is strong, sharp as a blade. She’s yet to speak and already you know her words will be unsympathetic. Ronal is past sparing you for the sake of sibling harmony. It’s clear in her green eyes that she feels nothing but irritation with you at this moment. It feels much the same as when you were children being scolded for going against her words despite her being the elder. Now she is tsahìk, the leader of your clan, and you must bow to her council no matter your relation.

“I have waited many years for you to choose someone. I do not want to hear any more of this stubbornness. It is done. This man has chosen you and you have chosen him. Not with your words, but with your actions. I see how Jakesully looks at you. I see how his children cling to you. It is as if it was your hands that drew out the aysnatanhì. You See so much and yet you are blind to this. He was mated but she is gone. His heart is free to be given to another. His children will need a mother. I will not allow you to keep yourself from happiness.”

“Syay,” she says pointedly. “It has been decided.”

And so it has. The dreamwalker that looks like Kiri and the woman that shares Neteyam’s face stare at you when you sleep. And when it isn’t their yellow eyes it is toruk’s voice ringing in your mind. He is lonely, in your dreams. Nearly desperate. The same look that takes over Jake’s eyes whenever you pass him by as if he were a stranger. You’re hurting him, you realize, just as much as you are hurting yourself. And it is a pain that can be easily soothed. Eywa has shown you how to heal if only you’ll listen. As if hearing your thoughts as if they were her own, your sister speaks again.

“You were tsakarem just as I was and yet you act as if you do not See. I know that you do. There is freedom in life but some things are decided by the Great Mother’s will. This has been one of those things. Eywa has guided you here, tsmuke, do not ignore her.” Her voice carries a tone of finality. It is the truth and you’ve felt the Great Mother’s guidance. It is as strong and unwavering as mighty toruk, as patient and comforting as Jake’s gentle words. He is meant for you just as you’re meant for him. There is a reason you’ve met him now. He had his mate. She was meant for him just as you are but that was then. Her purpose was served and her spirit returned to be with Eywa. The final hesitant piece of your heart wonders if you’ll leave him just as soon. If your purpose beside him is to be completed just as quickly. It hardly matters. Your heart was his from the moment you first saw him. If death waits close around the bend you’ll gladly face it if he remains by your side until Eywa calls your spirit home.

Ronal seems to soften after she’s said her piece. A heaving breath leaves her as she steadies her anger, expelling the negative energy from her body in a great heaving sigh. After a moment her eyes open and they no longer carry the stinging bite of disappointment. Instead she has softened to a look of quiet anticipation. A small smile sits in the corner of her mouth, barely lifting her cheeks.

“Tonight we celebrate the return of our brothers and sisters. It is a time for happiness. Dress beautifully, wear your adornments. I want to see my sister shine brightly on this sacred night.” It is the same thing you said to her so many years ago on the night that Tonowari chose her. She is relieved, happy. This will be a burden lifted from her shoulders at last. With a resolute nod she leaves you to dress. As a former tsakarem you’re afforded more beautiful garbs than most women of the clan just as Ronal is. Tsahìk is always the most lavishly decorated woman and being your sister’s right hand has provided you with the same dignified attire. The Awa’atlu tradition of training many for the role of tsahìk means that each woman to complete the trials is just as precious to the clan as the chosen tsahìk mated to olo’eyktan. The People often present you with lovely gifts of the most beautiful beads, shimmering shells, and handsomely dyed materials after healing a member of their family or teaching their child to swim. It’s a balanced exchange as you return the favors with carefully made baskets and newly carved knives.

The most precious of these gifts you’ve kept hidden away to be used only as ceremonial pieces. For births and deaths, and the celebration of completed rites. The return of the tulkun marks such a worthy event. It’s as you’re combing through your basket of woven tops and beaded loincloths that Tsireya joins you, arms overflowing with freshly picked flowers.

“Ma sa’tsmuke.” She says happily. There’s a bounce in her step as she sits beside you. “Ma sa’nok has asked us to make aysylangtel for tonight’s ceremony.”

“Did you enjoy your time with your spirit sister?” You ask as the two of you weave together the flower cords. The petals are soft between your fingers as you weave together the stems until you’ve braided a rope as long as your tail. They’re meant to be worn in your hair, along the length of your tswin.

“Yes,” she laughs bashfully, “I had much to tell her.” She doesn’t say more, cheeks flushed a soft shade of purple as her tail sways happily against the woven floor. She speaks instead of making aysylangtel for Kiri and Tuk after you’ve finished with the ones meant for Ronal and herself as well as yours. When they’re finished she gleefully takes them to the Sullys, leaving you with the brightest of the cords. The flowers bloom in shades of sunlight. Red, orange, and yellow petals tipped in black. It feels like another sign from the Great Mother. These are toruk’s colors. It determines your dress as you set aside any choice that isn’t the color of firelight and when the first drum beats begin to echo over the village you emerge from your home draped in flames.

The ceremony is beautiful as it always is. Torchlight dances over the calm waters as the village comes alive with the voices of the People. Ronal’s voice rings over the water as she formally welcomes the tulkun home, Tonowari’s booming voice seconding her words. When the time comes and the drums begin to beat anew Ronal nods to you expectantly. You stride forward in time to the music until the ocean rises up to your knees. The sound of your voice peals through the air like the caw of a bird, sharp and melodic as you begin to sing. The first verse of the song is yours alone as you dance through the water, beads and shells of your clothes tinkling with each movement. Euphoria wells inside you, blooming through your chest like a flower as you sing the story of the tulkun. It is nearly as old as the First Songs, passed down from the ancestors and your body moves with each word. Such dances tell a story, signing in a grander, more fluid way than how you speak in daily life.

Every woman of the village will play a part in this performance and their voices begin to join you. They flow together like the rise and fall of the waves as the song begins in earnest. The history of the tulkun is long and storied. It will take hours before the song is finished. By then the girls will begin to sing, their young voices swelling the music to a close as the tulkun join the chorus. The whole of the celebration moves like the tides as the crowd thins and renews in waves as more people leave and arrive. There is a whole night of celebration ahead and no one will arrive late to enjoy it. The first line of dancers falls away and you with them, returning to find Tuk bouncing excitedly on shore, her eager hopping stirring up soft bursts of sand.

“Sa’nu! Sa’nu!” Her smile is nearly wide enough to split her cheeks, round eyes wide with wonder as she grabs one of your hands in hers. The shortened aysylangtel you made for her beats against her back as she swings your arm eagerly.

“You looked so pretty, Sa’nu!” Kiri settles her hands on Tuk’s shoulders to get her to still.

“You look very lovely, Sa’nok. Your voice is beautiful.”

“Thank you, ’ite.” You dare to say. For a moment, Kiri startles, her brows rising before her face settles into a shy smile. When her gaze flits up to you through her lashes she looks content. It eases your heart to know your sister’s words have been true. Even as you saw Jakesully’s children grow closer to you like flowers bending towards the sun you hadn’t dared to claim them so forwardly, scared of the rejection. They had a mother. You seeing them, no matter how vaguely it has been, truly solidified them in your mind. No longer were they shapeless threads of words said in passing. For you to so blatantly step into that place could’ve been seen as a thing worth sneering at. But there is no offense on Kiri’s face.

“Have you seen your father?” It’s your hope that you don’t sound desperately curious asking after Jake’s whereabouts.

“Last I saw he was with olo’eyktan.”

“I will look for Tonowari then.” You find the olo’eyktan around a fire smoldering in the sand with a few men around him. Many eyes rise to meet your arrival; green, blue, and a bright shade of yellow.

“Our lovely tsakarem.” Tonowari greets you. He’s one of the few in the clan to still call you as such. There’s a fondness in his words that hasn’t wavered since the elders first declared you as a potential mate for him, though the affection between the two of you is like that of siblings. Your heart was never moved by Tonowari the same as your sister’s was. Yet the other men collected around the fire seem more enticed. Their eyes are easy to understand. Drunk from fermented juice and hearts light with the spirit of celebration, they’ve become bolder with their admirations. The only one that is unmoved by your arrival is Jake. His face is tight and guarded, eyes flickering with firelight and nothing else as he watches you watch him. It’s a wonder the way he can so completely close himself off, hiding his soul and masking his feelings. The feeling of wanting to unravel him rises again as you hold out your hand for him to take. It is a request, but there will be great pain inside you if he rejects this humble offering of reconciliation. You are at fault for gouging this rift between the two of you and it’s your hope to bridge it tonight.

For a moment he simply looks at your hand as it sits before him and there’s a cold flash of pain inside you when you realize that you might be too late. He said he would wait. Promised that he would. But perhaps you’ve made him wait for too long. It’s not until his hand joins with yours that your racing mind settles. He looks to where your hand sits in his, thumb tracing over your skin before he meets your gaze once more and it’s like a storm has lifted. The silence between the two of you still speaks so many words as you watch the light of the fire play over his features. Feeling emboldened you pull him away from the men around the fire.

“You must dance.” Jake is already shaking his head before you’re more than two steps from where he’d been sitting.

“You must. It is the way!” A new verse has started and the melody has shifted. In the time of the First Songs the tulkun were unruly. Fighting amongst themselves, killing each other. This new rhythm marks the turn in their histories when they began to see that killing only brings about more killing. It is a livelier tune more fit for dancing than what you had first sung when the celebration began. Already couples are forming on the beach, eager to enjoy the night’s festivities.

“Go,” Tonowari laughs when Jake looks to olo’eyktan for help. “She is one of the best dancers in the clan. You will enjoy yourself.”

“I’ve never been a very good dancer.” Jake laughs as you drag him into the crowd.

“Then show me a dance you know.” The dances of the Metkayina are complex. Men and women face each other and move in a winding line that spins and twirls like waves, weaving between each other and switching partners as you go. It will surely be too much for Jake to learn in a night and he seems to ease at the thought of not joining the already dizzying swirl of dancers. The dance he teaches you is comparatively simple yet more intimate. There’s a closeness about it as you press your hands and chests together before stepping away from each other. Eventually Jake doesn’t want to part and his hands twine with yours, lowering them but not letting go.

“And who taught you this dance Toruk Makto?” The smile on his face slips at your playful words. Sadness flashes in his eyes before it settles into something fond as he releases one of your hands to catch the curve of your cheek in his palm.

“My muntxate.” As soon as he says it his ears fall in shame. Just for a moment it feels as if he isn’t seeing you even as his bright eyes rest on your face.

“Come,” you say to break him from his reverie. “I want to show you something.” He lets you lead him to the water’s edge, following behind when you mount your ilu. Jake says nothing as the two of you ride past the edge of the reef into open waters. There still isn’t much danger so close to the village and you only go as far as a smaller island just outside the safety of the seawall. Jake is silent through all of it, allowing you to lead him wherever you please.

The island’s shores are stony and thick with trees, the world alight with a familiar blue and green glow so far from the light of torches. Jake watches as you dance through the trees, happiness still soaring in your heart despite his soured attitude.

“I’m sorry.” He says, finally breaking his silence.

“What is there to be sorry for?”

“I shouldn’t have said that,” he insists, “not to you.”

“Why shouldn’t you? Unless you are running from me now, Jakesully.”

“Never.” You hear the hesitance in his voice even as he grabs your hand to pull you closer. He looks beautiful in the light of the trees. It’s different from the hues of the village where everything is drawn close to shore over the light of the ocean. Jake looks more at ease here. It is not the forest but it must feel like something close to home for him, or at least that was your hope in bringing him here.

“But it feels wrong. To talk about her. With you.”

“Jake, you said that I may have you. That you will be mine. I do not want just a part of you.”

“You have me, yawne, I swear. I meant what I said that night. I’m yours.” He suddenly seems frantic.

“Jake, I am not ignorant. I know that you have lived before we met. You were tawtute, uniltìrantokx, Toruk Makto. You’ve carried many names, led many lives. I was not a part of it until now. Why would I fault you for decisions made before we met?”

“It doesn’t bother you? That I was mated before now?”

“It did. I felt like I was taking something from someone else. But not anymore. We do not have to be mated before Eywa. I know that tsaheylu is sacred. Knowing that I’m yours is enough.” The words pain your heart but it is a sacrifice that you are willing to make to stay by his side. Bonds aren’t made frivolously. To form tsaheylu is to commit your souls to one another for life, and he has already given that part of himself to another. Life has parted them but, to him, it must feel like a wound that will never heal. It would be wrong of you to ask when he has already given you so much. His eyes search yours and you’re grateful that Eywa has not given your gift to everyone. If she had he would see the falsehood in your words. Still he reassures you.

“I chose you. I want you. All of you.” His hands move from yours, drawing up the length of your arms and the curve of your shoulders until he’s holding your face with the softest touch.

“You look so beautiful.” He whispers so quietly that you’re not sure you were meant to hear, but the sentiment is shared. He is beautiful. Thick locs, yellow eyes, soft stomach. He leans into your touch when your hands find his face in turn, thumbs brushing over the light of his tanhì and the dark shapes of his pil. So different but so familiar.

“Come, I have something to show you.” Jake seems to be in lighter spirits, as playful as he’d been on the night the two of you climbed the terraces. His hand tugs at your tail as you lead him further inland, laughing when you swing your hips to smack him with it. It’s a beautiful sound. One that you prefer to the melancholic tone he’d taken earlier.

“It’s here.” You watch Jake’s face as he ducks into the clearing hidden by low hanging leaves. His head tilts, tail swaying inquisitively behind him.

“What is it?”

“I do not know. I found it once when I was young, avoiding my training as a hunter. Ronal and I call it Wayutral.”

“Tree of Songs?” He’s curious now, ears flickering in interest. The tree is small by comparison to the rest rising to the sky around you. It’s rooted in the basin of a tide pool, trunk twisted like a braid, with only its spindly branches dotted with glowing pink flowers reaching above the glowing water. It’s a strange tree but Pandora is full of such curiosities. Gifts from the Great Mother. The bark of the tree is soft and glows a pale purple at the gentlest touch, lighting veins through the tree when you connect your tswin. In an instant you hear voices raise in a joyous song. It is not always the same but they’re always familiar. Sometimes a lullaby from childhood or one of the First Songs. Today the tree sings a tulkun song meant to welcome a new birth, their voicing ringing deep and haunting in your mind.

“What do you hear?” You ask as Jake ties his tswin to the tree. His brows draw down and his ears tighten against his head. Perhaps it is a sad song the Wayutral has shown him.

“It’s a tawtute song. Like a Taronway. Marines chant it during training.”

“Marines?” Your Na’vi tongue stumbles over the syllables of the word. Another English word for you to learn. Jake breaks tsaheylu and your heart wilts. This was meant to be a happy exchange and it’s been spoiled by memories of his past.

“It’s nothing.” He shakes away the thought.

“I’m sorry. Wayutral only sings memories. I didn’t know what it would show you.” You draw your tswin over your shoulder, fingers picking at the bright flowers of your aysylangtel. The bright petals begin to gray under your anxious fingers until Jake collects your hands in his. His eyes linger on the length of the orange flowers, or perhaps he’s staring at your tswin. Either way his eyes draw away slowly, blinking away the distraction as his eyes meet yours.

“It’s not your fault, sweet girl. I’m not upset, it’s just been so long since I heard anything like that. Brought back memories.”

“Bad memories?”

“Some.” His tone is clipped and he looks lost in thought as his five fingers play over yours. He maps the pattern of your skin with his fingertips until you break his trance with a thought you meant to keep tucked inside.

“I wish I knew.” It’s the truth. There is so much about Jake that you’ve yet to learn but your heart yearns to know every piece of him. But you hadn’t meant to let your longing slip off your tongue. A twinge of shame swims through your chest once more. His life as a tawtute is behind him and yet you want to know what he had been like. So much of his life has happened without you. It’s so uncommon to mate outside of your clan, outside of those that have been beside you since birth. Tonowari grew up beside you and Ronal and yet here is this man that was a stranger some months ago and it’s all you can do to not beg him to sing you the story of his life. You were raised to be in step with Eywa. To listen to her guidance and the spirits of the world around you. A tsahìk does not wait for Eywa’s word, she is always listening. That is what the former tsahìk taught you. Now your ears are eager to listen to every beat of Jake’s spirit. If he were a woven fabric the threads would be many colors, patterns varied as he passed through the different stages of his life.

“You want to know, yawntutsyìp?” His tone is lightened now, eyes bright with mirth as he teases your curiosity. It makes your ears lower bashfully, eyes falling away from him as heat creeps over your cheeks. Jake is quick to draw your gaze back to him with a hand under your chin.

“Don’t be shy now, yuey. If you want to know, I can show you. I can show you everything. Let me give you everything.” His lips find yours, closing the space between you. He kisses you like you are the air in his lungs after going without. Deep and desirous as if he’s trying to draw all that you are into himself, trying to taste your soul on his tongue as it grazes yours. It’s enough to make you sigh against his lips and the sound draws a satisfied smile to his lips. Jake doesn’t let you part more than a hair’s breadth from him, thumbs hooked under the curve of your jaw as he nuzzles against your cheeks.

“I want you with me.” He whispers. “Let me be with you.” A hand leaves your skin, the place he held going cold in an instant, as he draws his tswin over his shoulder.

“This is what I want.” His voice rings with assuredness. “I want this. I want you. All of you.” There isn’t a moment of hesitation as you lift your flowered braid from your shoulder. Your eyes follow the searching tendrils as they twine together until your vision goes white.

The feeling is something beyond words. Every piece of your being is lit like a flame, burning and melting as light bursts behind your eyes. It knocks you to your knees as you feel yourself tear and mend all at once, expanding and joining until there is no part of you–body or soul–that doesn’t feel touched by Jake’s presence. His gasping breath becomes your own. Your hearts beat in tandem. Everything that he is becomes a part of you, the roots of your love winding deeper than they had before. Your voice stutters when you finally find the words to speak.

“I feel you.” They’re hardly words as they fall soft as the wind from your parted lips. Jake laughs and his happiness echoes through tsaheylu. He is content as he basks in your presence. More than just being together under the light of the stars, you’re joined in tirea.

“Ma Jake.” You’re still breathless, still floating on the waves of joy. Every fiber of your being has been tied with his and you can’t tell where you end and he begins as he pulls you into his chest. Gentle hands guide your hazy eyes back to his.

“My girl,” he says through a kiss. “Oel ngati kameie.” He means it. With everything that he is, he means it. Those words, so simple, so common, draw the last dregs of pain and hesitance from your heart. He is yours. You are his.

ɴᴀ’ᴠɪ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs

Naranawm – Polyphemus, the planet Pandora orbits

Nalutsa – a marine animal similar to an akula

Syuratan – bioluminescence

Tsakarem – tsahìk-in-training

Vitra, Tirea – soul, spirit

Yawne, Yawntutsyìp – beloved, darling

Tawtute, Sawtute – sky person, sky people

Ranteng Utralti – Spirit Tree

Tswin – neural braid

Tanhì – star, bioluminescent freckles

Atokirina’ – woodsprite, seed of the Tree of Souls

Aysnatanhì – constellations

Sa’tsmuke – aunt, mother’s sister (speculative)

Aysylangtel – flower cords, daisy chain (speculative)

‘Ite – daughter

Muntxate – wife, female mate

Uniltìrantokx – dreamwalker, avatar

Pil – facial stripes, skin stripes

Wayutral – Tree of Songs (speculative)

Taronway – hunt songs

#jake sully x reader #sully family x reader #avatar x reader #avatar #atwow

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comfied-chriterature · 5 months

Text

WAIT OMG I forgot it was Mermay!!!!! I'm gonna share the siren/selkie/sailor Sigskk (accidental alliteration) au I made up purely so I could describe the ocean in loving, overabundant detail (and also because I'm reading To Kill a Kingdom)

𓆞༄･ﾟ𓆝࿐ ࿔*: 𓆟

Sigma's casino floats on the blue, but instead of the sky, it's the sea. A cruise that feels like a home, and every customer is family. (He is not a pirate, even though he has a cutlass and a flintlock pistol and a freaking hook.) Longing to feel the liquid pull of the ocean against his skin, Sigma steps down into a jolly-boat. There, he is assailed and nearly butchered by a siren defending his territory, a creature of water with fiery hair, until he's pulled back aboard.

Later, Sigma's ship is attacked by real pirates. After defeating them, Sigma and his crew scour their ship and find, imprisoned, a man with tousled cacao hair, clothed only in bandages (along with... Gogol??? How did you get here????) He's a regular damsel in distress with a mysterious eyepatch over one of his eyes, and definitely not a selkie and ex-partner of that siren.

Below: A snippet of Sigchuu's meeting that I wrote in a fit of passion.

The sea glitters, waves crashing gently against the hull of his ship, an ambient noise that could lull one to sleep. It’s deliciously blue, an ombré that melts into a softer azure, highlighted by the shimmering, radiating dot of the white sun.

Sigma dives in.

The salty water should burn his eyes, but Sigma hardly feels it. It’s even more beautiful down under, a dazzling world of aquamarine — beams of light slanting over his head, his hair weightless and flowing around him. Fish in primary colors dash past his eyes and bubbles float up from his mouth. Seaweed sways in a breezy dance. Atop the squishy sand, Sigma's hands caress vibrant seashells like so many gems.

And then his back is crushed against them.

Sigma can’t see — his hair whips in front of his face and sticks to his eyes. The air is pushed out of his lungs and he inhales water. Something is beating his head into the smooth, colorful sea pebbles below, and there’s blood clogging the water and his vision.

He swears and gasps and chokes, heartbeat all he can hear against the throbbing of the waves in his ears. I'm going to die I'm going to die my casino my patrons my ship I need to get back I can't breathe...

Sigma shoves against the snarling, squirming thing forcing him down. He curses his long hair with his limited thought space. He reaches blindly, catching on teeth and skin and hair and- and scales? But he’s got it — his flintlock. He wrestles it out of his pocket and fires.

There’s a growl of shock, and Sigma forces himself away from his assailant and up, praying that he’ll break the surface before everything goes black—

The sky. The sun. Sigma breathes as everything becomes bright again. He hacks up seawater and blood (concerning), and frantically rubs the ocean and his hair out of his eyes.

There’s someone with him.

Something? He can’t tell. All he sees is a face — a human face — submerged in the water with only the eyes breaking surface, eyes bluer than the sky, than the sea, than any gem tossed on Sigma’s poker tables when all other currency had been lost. A predator. Sienna locks surge over brown shoulders and swirl around their head like a planet’s rings. Most striking of all are their ears, fanned like fairy wings but nowhere near as delicate, frilled and bristling in aggression.

Sigma thinks this creature is beautiful, even as their face is twisted in animalistic rage.

The creature lunges. Claws drip with crimson, swirling patterns up the arm. They're sharp enough to hook Sigma's breath.

He's scrambling onto his boat before he can learn just how sharp they are, and his ever-diligent crew shouts and hoists him up immediately.

Sigma's eyes meet scorching blue, narrowing in rage. They're nothing like the ocean, he realizes. They're like fire.

Then he gasps and flinches back. A mirage... it must be. The flare of the sunlight must be fooling his eyes. Because, inexplicably, the ocean seems to whirl up to meet him, as though sentient.

But now is not the time to think about that.

𓆞༄･ﾟ𓆝࿐ ࿔*: 𓆟

#yeah I love mermaids and the ocean #sigskk #sigchuu #sigzai #soukoku #dachuu #bsd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs #bsd fanfic #sigma bsd #chuuya nakahara #dazai osamu #chriterary classics #mermaid #siren #selkie #merfolk

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eclecticqueennerd · 1 year

Text

Game Night

It was one of those rare occasions where there wasn’t anything to do. No leads to follow up on, no supes to terrorize, and no mayhem to cause. Due to the early morning mission, the group decided to stay in and to pass the time, play a board game, Pictionary to be exact. You broke off into teams, boys, which consisted of MM, Frenchie, and Butcher, versus girls; Y/n, Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie. It was a rule that everyone had to grab a drink and the losing team had to take a drink after each round. Sangria was the poison of choice for the girls’ team, vodka the choice for the guys. The guys allowed the girls team to roll the dice first, your figurine landed on yellow after rolling a 6.

“Okay so the category is Person/ Place/ Animal.” You look at both options on the card, you choose Lighthouse, and hand it to Butcher, who was first to draw for the guys team. “Yellow on the blue side.”

“I don’t know how I’m gonna draw that, but I’m ready.” Butcher throws the card in the discard pile. Frenchie grabs the sand timer and begins countdown,

“Start in 3…2…1.” You and Butcher begin drawing and the hideout is filled with shouts, attempting to guess what the person on their team is drawing. Just before the sand in the timer ran out, you added a small square with a circle towards the bottom of the large rectangle you drew.

“A LIGHTHOUSE!” Hughie screamed. You point your finger towards the man and exclaimed,

“YES!” The girls, and Hughie, started cheering while the boys were grumbling, Butcher throwing the pencil down on the table so hard it bounced and flew away.

“I don’t know how you lot didn’t get that. It was easy.” Butcher chided.

“Butcher, you made shapes! How could we guess from shapes?” MM shot back. Butcher reached forward and grabbed the pad of paper from in front of you,

“Y/n drew boxes too and their team was able to guess it!”

“I guess we’re just better.” You jested. You reached over to Butcher and stroked his bearded cheek. The rage in Butchers eyes subsided a little bit, replaced with an adoring twinkle. “Don’t worry, you guys will catch up. But for now, drink up… loser.” You leaned forward and snatched the pad of paper away from Butcher, not missing the look he just gave you. Butcher narrowed his eyes and took a shot of vodka. He then spoke,

“Oh, it’s on.”

The next few rounds, the girls’ team dominated the boys, making it a quarter of the way around the board. As time went on, the guy’s team became frustrated with each other whereas the girl’s team, and Hughie, were celebrating by taking sips of their wine.

“Cattle drive!” Butcher shouts. MM looks up from his drawing.

“Hell yeah man lets fuckin GO!” The guys team all congratulated themselves on the hard work they just accomplished. They moved their figurine onto the board.

“Finally, on the board. It’s over for you lot now.” Butcher shot you a look. You put the edge of the wineglass to your lips and began sipping. Butcher reached out and tilted the bottom of the glass upwards, making you chug the rest of your sangria before it spilled on you. “There you go love.”

“We’re supposed to drink, not chug it!”

“We need you guys on the same level as drunk as us love.”

“Not our fault that you chose vodka of all things.”

From that point on, the girls team began losing. You’d have a few wins here and there, but the guys would always come back to steal that victory away from you. It wasn’t until you were now three-quarters of the way through the board and the guys were a few spaces away from victory.

It was you against Butcher again, and the task was to draw a pizza delivery person. The timer started and you were able to draw a stick figure, but with all the wine you’ve had to drink, even that was a difficult mission to accomplish. Before you could finish your drawing,

“Pizza man!” Frenchie shouts. The girls team turned to look at the guys and Butcher was dealing out high fives. They moved their figurine into the victory slot.

“How?” Annie exclaims, she reaches forward and yanks the pad of paper out of Butchers hand. Your group inspects the drawing.

“You literally just drew a person in a hat! How the fuck did you get that?” The guys shrugged. “You’re cheating! You guys didn’t nearly have as much to drink as we did!”

“Do you not remember how you kicked our asses in the beginning and how many shots we took?” Frenchie shouted back, overjoyed that they’d won. At this point, Annie stood up from her spot at the table, frustration getting to her. “No! They need to go back a few spaces. They’re cheating!” Hughie stood up and grasped Annies shoulders.

“It’s okay Annie. It’s just a game.” The two went off into their room to calm down. Kimiko and Frenchie giggled to each other. You and Butcher walked into your bedroom to get ready for bed while MM cleaned up the game, his OCD not standing for the clutter.

Swapping out your day clothes for PJ’s, Butcher approached you and wrapped his arms around your waist. He placed a kiss on your forehead.

“Good game love.” You giggled, the wine and his scent causing butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

“Thanks, congrats on winning. You had one hell of a comeback.” The two of you crawled into bed and you laid your head on his bare chest. Butcher placed a kiss on the crown of your head.

“Thanks love. I knew we were going to win.”

“Oh? How so?” You giggled again.

“When we stopped halfway through for a bathroom break, I switched out the vodka for water.” You looked up to him in shock, Butchers face plastered with a shit eating grin.

“BILLY!”

#the boys #the boys amazon #billy butcher #billy butcher x reader #frenchie #karl urban #mothers milk #kimiko the boys #the boys hughie #hughie campbell #annie january

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daydreamgoddess14 · 1 year

Text

Support System pt. 6

MASTERLIST

CH1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4 | CH 5

Roy Kent x Reader

Are you ready? Cos we get really very spicy now my friends so.... be warned. Also, good god I think I'm in love with Roy Kent.

Chapter 6

She pushes the phone into your hand so you have no choice but to bring it to your ear, you still watch Roy who's moved to the otherside of the room. Your heart is still pounding and you feel like you've been given an electric shock.

"Yeah?" You ask into the phone.

"Can we talk?"

"Umm, we've just got back from the beach. I'll get Lexie settled and call you back?" You hang up without waiting for any real response.

"I'd better go." He says.

"Thanks for a cool day Roy! Thanks for winning my unicorn teddy and the ice creams and for letting me go on your shoulders and… and… everything!" Lexie says jumping from foot to foot.

"Thank you for the best day Lex. We should go again in the summer."

"Yeaaaaaah! Can we mum?"

"Of course we can bunny. Let's get you ready for bed, huh?" She zooms into the living room to gather up the new toys for her room while you see Roy to the door. "I'll see you soon?" You sound unsure, you've no idea where his head is at after the kiss. No idea where your own head is, really. You still feel a little dizzy from it and the coil in your belly is wound even tighter.

"Yeah, see you soon." His eye catches the sunburn on your shoulders, now joined by beard burn and a little bite mark. He brushes it lightly with his finger and you can't help but lean into him. "Should have put some more cream on." He says quietly before closing the door behind him. You're left in the hallway in a weird limbo of being disappointed that he left and unbelievably turned on. It wasn’t fair, you should be on cloud 9. Instead, you head upstairs and concentrate on real life. You get Lexie into the bath and bed before doing the same yourself. You reluctantly pick up your phone to call Andy back, seeing that Sara has sent some pictures from the day with plenty of sunshine, ice cream and beer emojis on a group message to both you and Roy. There’s the kids playing in the sand, you and the girls looking at the shells you’d collected, one of you pointing and laughing at something out of focus - head thrown back, sunkissed and happy. In the picture, Roy is next to you but he’s not looking at whatever it is that’s got your attention, he’s looking at you. There are others - really great photos, a selfie of the three of you and then one of the five of you. They make your heart flutter. You respond with a heart emoji, not quite able to put into words just how much they all mean to you - and that’s without confronting your growing feelings for Roy. The photos were exactly what you needed for your next task. You press Andy’s contact picture and let it ring.

“Thanks for calling back.” You’re surprised, it’s the most civilised he's been for months.

“Sorry it took a while. We both needed to get half a beach off us.”

“Did you have a good day? Did you go alone?”

“We went with one of Lexie’s friends from school. It was a lovely day.”

“She said you’re changing jobs.”

“Yeah, handed my notice in last week. I’ve got about 6 weeks left.”

“You… don’t need to do that you know. Maybe we could work something out?”

“What do you mean?”

“I miss you.”

“Are you pissed?”

“No! Why?”

“You’ve been an absolute fucking nightmare for months - you’ve punished me and belittled me and shamed me for having a better job than you and what? Now I’m giving it up, you think we can get back together? Are you for real right now?” You’re trying to keep your voice down but you don’t think you’ve felt a rage like this in your life. Not even when you were both fighting constantly.

“I just thought it would be good for Lexie, mum and dad together, making it work?” He mumbled.

“What’s good for Lexie is a happy family life - even if that’s separately. Making it work? Making both of us miserable more like.”

“I wasn’t miserable with you.”

“You had an odd way of showing it Andy. You’ve barely laid a finger on me for years, you criticise everything I do. I’m sorry, I can’t make Lexie happy by destroying myself in the process. I deserve to be really, really loved and you can’t do that. What’s this really about?” You’ve stripped away his arguments, Lexie being his trump card, he has no comeback.

“Lexie keeps talking about your new friends. I just thought… is there anything I can do to change-”

“No Andy, you’ll never change my mind on this. I wish I’d been brave enough to leave you rather than wait for you to leave me to be honest. We won’t talk about this again. Goodnight.” Absolute wanker! You hang up and grab a pillow to scream into. Jealousy, of course. You’d seen it briefly when you’d gone to his flat to pick Lexie up when she’d been poorly but because you’d seen him so rarely recently it hadn’t really registered. You could laugh, it’s only taken him the best part of 8 years for him to actually feel anything for you.

The next couple of days are a blur of Easter holiday club for Lexie and work for you. There’s still no luck on the job front which makes you nervous, and Andy’s done you the decency of not calling you again. You’d naively hoped that he’d woken the next morning with a hangover and had been appalled at his own behaviour, but you also didn’t really care. Sara had taken to using the group message she’d sent the photos on for childcare planning - it made sense but it also meant that you didn’t have any other excuse for solely messaging Roy. When you finally unpacked the bags of junk from the beach day, you found his book rather than yours in the bag. You were picking the girls up that afternoon and taking Phoebe straight to her nans where Sara would pick her up. They came out of school with paint up their arms and in their hair from the craft activities laid on for them. You were looking forward to seeing Roy’s mum again and she welcomed you as she had before, with a huge hug. She was over the moon to finally meet Lexie who took to her immediately. When Sara arrived back from work a little while later, the girls helped her shake off her tiredness with a dance party (Taylor Swift of course) so the five of you - including Roy’s mum - were dancing around with music blasting, singing at the top of your lungs.

“Standing by and waiting at your back door, all this time, how could you not know, baby? You belong with me, you belong with me!” Until Phoebe screeched,

“Uncle Royyyy! I haven’t seen you for ages!”

“You saw me like two days ago you little weirdo.” He said surveying the chaos ahead of him. “Having fun?”

“It’s a dance party! Sara was sleepy so we needed to wake her up.” Lexie told him.

“Sara’s still sleepy but thanks for trying, guys.” She laughs.

“Come on Lexie-loo. Time for us to go.”

“But muuum!”

“No buts, we need to get you ready for dad’s tomorrow.” The two girls looked sombre that they’d be separated for a few days, but Sara grins at you over their heads,

“Freedom!” You get bags and shoes and say goodbye to Roy’s mum. You stop suddenly in the hall, not realising Roy was right behind you and making him bump into you. He puts a hand to your waist so he doesn’t push you over but it brings you flush to his chest. With his hand on your stomach, you know he had to feel the shuddering breath that leaves your body. You reach into your bag and turn to him, “nearly forgot, I ended up with your book.”

“Keep it, I’d finished it. Did you finish yours?”

“Yeah, keep it. I promised it to you.” He watches you with dark eyes. You know nothing is going to happen, of course it’s not - there’s a house full of people, Lexie is behind you by the front door putting her trainers on. He nods once and puts a single kiss to your forehead.

“See you soon.”

“Bye,” you look over his shoulder intending to shout goodbye to Sara and her mum but Sara’s in the doorway, eyebrows raised and wide eyed.

“Bye babe, I’ll text you later.” She says casually with a look which is far from casual.

You have the following day off for a couple of interviews so you’ve arranged to pick Lexie up from holiday club and take her round to Andy’s yourself. You don’t really want to have to see him, but the plans were made before his pleas to try again.

“Here’s your bag, bunny, your coat is inside. Be good, I’ll see you in a few days, ok?” You give her a big hug and kiss and she goes straight into the flat. Andy hovers by the door.

“You look good.”

“Thanks, I’ve had a couple of interviews.”

“Any good?”

“Not sure yet, we’ll see.”

“Ok well… good luck.” You nod, ready to escape but you can see he’s itching to say something else. “I just wanted to say sorry about the other night.”

“It’s ok, forgotten already.”

“Oh, cos I just wanted to check that you’re sure?” You shake your head with a little laugh,

“Yes, Andy. I’m sure. Please, don’t ask again. It’s not going to happen.”

“Right, right. Ok. Have a good week then.”

“Yeah, you too.” You leave his flat feeling lighter. You go back to your car leaving him behind, the clocks have changed so the evenings are light. Your drive takes you past the football club and down Roy’s street. His gate is open and the car is just inside. You turn in before you have a chance to chicken out. You ring the bell and wait. The double take as he answers the door means he didn’t see it was you on the doorbell camera,

“It’s you.” He states,

“Yeah, I was just passing. Is this a bad time, I can go?” You make to leave but he’s quick to stop you.

“No, no, of course it’s fine, come in. I was just cooking. Jesus, you look fucking gorgeous.” You leave your bag by the door and step out of your heels.

“Thank you. I’ve been interviewing today.”

“How did it go, what were the roles?”

“Still Deputy Comms Director. I’m not sure, it’s so hard to say. It’s been ages since I interviewed anywhere.”

“Did they give you any feedback?” Already your conversation with Roy is a complete contrast to Andy’s indifference. You have his undivided attention, he’s curious and interested.

“Not really. I think it’s just a waiting game. It’s so annoying, I only have about 5 weeks left. I’m worried that I was wrong to just resign with nothing to go to next.”

“Bold, not necessarily wrong.” He offers, pouring you a glass of wine.

“I think you’re being too kind there.” You laugh,

“Bollocks. If forced retirement has taught me anything, it’s that you have to accept what’s right for you. Sometimes that means it feels like you’re doing the wrong thing until it becomes the right thing.” You mull on his words while he cooks. The speaker is on quietly in the background while you drink your wine. It feels comfortable.

“Do you regret retiring?”

“Fuck no. My knee thanks me every day for it. I didn’t dare let myself think I’d actually enjoy coaching - I tried to make out like I’d hate it.”

“It felt like the wrong thing to do until it didn’t?”

“Exactly. You’ve got to trust yourself.” He puts a plate of pasta in front of you.

“Oh, thank you.”

“Don’t turn up at my house at dinner time and not expect to get fed.” He takes the seat next to you.

“Tell me about the club. I’ve heard the rumours that Coach Lasso is leaving?”

“Doesn’t know what he fucking wants. He’s in love with the boss.”

“Really?! Does she know?”

“Nah, they’re both being idiots about it. Neither of them will say anything so he thinks the answer is to leave.”

“And it’s not?”

“No, he should tell her. Shouldn’t he?”

“Course he should. What happens if he leaves?”

“Not a clue. Guess I’ll find out if he ever makes a decision.”

“Not long to decide though. Maybe you should give him your ‘being bold’ pep talk.” You continue your meal together and help clean up afterwards. You didn’t have a reason for visiting in the first place, so you certainly didn’t have one to stick around, but he poured another glass of wine anyway. He seemed to be holding back from you a little, engaging in conversation about work and families but he didn’t once acknowledge the evening you’d returned from Brighton. You cleared your throat, “I had to see Andy today when I dropped Lexie off.”

“Oh yeah?” His frown deepened and unlike with Andy, you saw it immediately - jealousy.

“Hmm. He, uhh, reckons we should try again.”

“Oh.” He picks at the label on his beer bottle. “Bet Lexie’s happy?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“How come?”

“Well I didn’t think it was a wise idea to tell my 8 year old that I told her dad to fuck off… so, there’s that.” He looked up sharply,

“You told him to fuck off?”

“Not in so many words. But I made it very clear that he should never ask me again.”

“Good. It’s probably not good for you - or Lexie - to keep dragging shit like that out and-”

“Roy?”

“Yeah?” You leaned up from your stool at the kitchen island and kissed him lightly. When you moved away, you watched him carefully,

“If I’ve got this wrong again, I-” He stepped up to your knees, your tight skirt preventing him from getting much closer, and pulled you to him, kissing you so softly. It was entirely different to the first time he’d kissed you and yet felt just as desperate and wanting. He pulls your blouse out from the waistband of your skirt and leans back just enough to ask the silent question, are you sure? You’re not drunk, there are no kids to interrupt, no phones ringing… you know you’re sure, but you have to know that he is too. He anticipates what you’re about to ask,

“Course I’m fucking sure. You’re not wrong. You weren’t wrong last time. You were drunk, I didn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of you.”

“And now?”

“I’d really like to take advantage of you, that ok?” He says with a chuckle.

“Yes, definitely yes.” You laugh, relieved. He kisses you again and though you know you have all the time in the world, you don’t want to waste a single second.

“Fucking gorgeous.” He whispers against your neck, “borderline obscene, actually.” You laugh at his stolen compliment. His deft fingers pull your top up and off and you’re thankful you wore one of your really, really good bras for good luck for your interviews. You both decide at the same time that the other is just not close enough, your damn skirt in the way. He takes your hand to help you down from the stool and circles your waist, “this looks amazing, but it’s in the way.” You guide his hand to the zip at the side while you step up onto your tiptoes to pull his training t-shirt off. The skirt pools at your feet and his hands cover you, trying to explore everything all at once. “Up.” He taps your hip,

“Are you sure?”

“Fuck off.” He laughs, lifting you anyway. He doesn’t take you far, only to the sofa where he drops down with you still in his lap. You sit up on your knees so you can take your weight off his bad knee but he grips your hips, puts you back down and sides you further into his lap. You can feel him hard against you and it’s never been like this before, you’ve never been with someone who has made their need for you so obvious, never made you feel so wanted before. This thought alone helps banish your insecurities to the very back of your mind. He kisses a hot, wet path down your neck to the tops of your breasts, your sunburn faded to golden, but the freckles remain. The sensation of his beard against your skin makes you moan and you can’t help but roll your hips into him. He grips you tighter, holding you against him. You reach down between your bodies to pull at the waistband of his shorts. He takes the hint and lifts you both slightly so he can get rid of them. With the shorts out of the way, he can feel the heat and dampness of you against him, “Fuck me-” he breathes, hands tracing up your back to the clasp of your bra.

“Yes, please, yes.” Your hands are in his hair and you pull him back to your mouth for another searing kiss. You have to let go while he takes the straps of your bra down your arms but you press back up against him as soon as you can, the hair on his chest rough against your skin. You grind your hips down again, desperate to feel him against you. His hand goes between you both and he stops to check in again before touching you. You cup his cheek and nod, a shy smile. His fingers find your centre and brush against you. You breathe his name and your eyes flutter shut. Two fingers slide inside you and you think that’s already enough to send you over the edge. You rock against his hand, your forehead against his.

“Open your eyes,” he rasps, “I want to see you.” The second you open your eyes, he presses his thumb to your clit and you cry out. He doesn’t let up, working you through your orgasm until you're choking back a sob. You catch your breath for a moment, but the need for him is overwhelming.

“Need you now, have you got-”

“I’m clean, constant fucking medicals. You?” You nod and he slips your underwear to one side. You lift up to line him up against you and slide down onto him slowly. The stretch is exquisite, too much and yet absolutely perfect all at the same time. You take him fully and pause for a second to revel in the feeling of having him inside you. He kisses you softly, “you feel incredible. God, you’re so beautiful.” He takes your hips while you set the pace but it doesn’t take long for either of you to reach the edge. You come again with his name on your lips and he’s right there with you, bruising your hips with his grip. You slump against his shoulder, nose against his neck.

“Holy shit,” you manage eventually, feeling him laugh against you.

“Yeah, you’re not fucking wrong.” He pulls a blanket from the back of the sofa and wraps it over you as you slip off his lap to sit next to him. Neither of you says anything, his hands run up and down your calves as you sit with your legs in his lap. He reaches over to tuck your hair behind your ear, “will you stay?”

“If that’s ok?” He gets up and takes your hand, pulling you with him.

“Come on, shower and bed. I’ve got training with Jamie at 4am.”

You wake up briefly to a kiss on the back of your neck.

“Back in a bit, go back to sleep.” He whispers, kissing your earlobe. You sigh happily and snuggle down into the bed, pulling his pillow with you. You hadn’t gotten much sleep, waking every so often to soft caresses and kisses. Your body ached in a way you’d never felt before. You slip back into sleep again, waking a couple of hours later to a cup of tea and warm arms around you.

“How was training?” You ask, voice still full of sleep.

“Painful.” He laughed. You sit up to drink your tea, sitting in between his legs, his back against the headboard and yours against his chest. “Can I ask you something?” He murmurs, a hand drifting over your thigh, you let out a needy moan, it’s almost absurd how he can make you want him so badly. “Remember I had that suit fitting? There’s a gala for work next week. Will you come with me?” You turn to put your tea down and then kiss him.

“I’d love to. Thank you.” You smile.

“I’ve got an hour. What time do you have to go?”

“Same.”

“Good.” He smirks, pulling you back down to him.

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