#and as is nearly customary now

[yeehawkins]

so guess who just watched a playthrough of mw2

[ickadori]

++ 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

[summary] wrio missed his wife, and she missed him just as much. two simps in love.

[cws] fluff. fem reader -> wriothesley’s wife. reader is a mondstadt native. kissing.

Wriothesley’s cup of tea pauses halfway to his mouth as there’s a knock at his office door. His fingers tighten unconsciously around the handle, that incessant throbbing at his temples that had been dying out suddenly tapping into its nth life.

He contemplates ignoring it; pretending he didn’t hear it and indulging in his fresh brew, but he’s never been one to shirk off his work, no matter how inconsequential the task.

He sets the cup down rougher than necessary, and the legs of his chair scrape loudly against the floor as he pushes it back from his desk and stands to his feet. Someone better be dead or on the verge.

It was an unspoken rule that Wriothesley wasn’t to be bothered at this time -a quarter after five until six- because it was official tea time, a very, very important time in his day that let the inhabitants in Meropide see his most agreeable side… although he had heard talk from a few gossipy guards and prisoners that his ‘pissy attitude’ this past month had nothing to do with his interrupted tea times, but rather that his wife had gone back to Mondstadt to visit family.

“You know how he gets when he doesn’t see her after a while—downright scary. I’ve never seen a man look so enraged and distraught at the same time.”

“He put me on pipe restoration duty —don’t laugh, it isn’t funny! Worst job in the whole place, I swear— for the next six months all because my wife dropped by with a bento on my break. Apparently no one can be happy when his missus is away.”

“I caught him staring at her picture the other day, y’know the one he keeps in that chain around his neck, and sighing like some schoolgirl. I nearly thought my daughter had somehow gotten herself arrested and thrown down here when I heard all those lovesick sighs.”

It was all hearsay and speculation, of course. Wriothesley could manage just fine with you away - he was a grown man, a weathered man, a man who could function fully without the company of his wife.

That’s right, he thinks to himself. He’s been doing just fine in your absence, a bit quicker to anger than usual, but with the looming threat of being turned into a big, sopping puddle right below his feet, could you really blame him?

The door is wrenched open, strands of black and gray flying back from where they rested against his forehead due to the strong gust of wind he created.

“What is it now?” He nearly hisses out, but he manages to get a reign on it last minute, the words coming out a bit strained instead. He eyes the guard standing in front of him, their eyes flitting between the crease between his brows and the floor. “Spit it out before I—”

He stops abruptly when he hears a voice that he knows intimately well, and had he possessed any shame when it came publicly displaying the love he harbored for you, he would have been a touch embarrassed at the speed of which his frown smoothed out and the throbbing in his head disappeared, a sparkle in his eyes as his shoulders lose a bit of their tension.

“Oh? He has? Thank you for telling me, Sigewinne. I’ll get right on that.” You come rounding the corner with the small doctor at your side, a knapsack in your hands, and had Wriothesley been any less sane, he would have swore that he could feel the rays of the sunshine beaming down on his skin and fresh air filtering into his lungs when you turned your gaze to him, scornful as it was.

You’re fitted in a dress that’s customary for the women in your homeland to wear, and flowers are weaved into your hair, and the ring on your finger seems to shine a bit brighter.

“Wriothesley.” You march up to him, eyebrows knitted together, and push your finger against his chest. “What is this I hear about you acting like a tyrant?”

“You look beautiful.” He breathes out.

“And going to the Pankration ring? You know those poor people don’t stand a chance against you. That’s just bullying.”

“Let me take your bag, it looks heavy.”

“And you haven’t been eating right, either! Look at your face — you’ve lost weight!” He transfers the bag from your hands to his, and when his fingers brush against yours, he finally lets a smile bloom on his face, being met with a huff. “Don’t smile at me. I’m mad at you.”

“Can’t help it, happy to see you.” You falter a bit, corners of your lips twitching, but you hold strong, choosing to save face in front of the onlookers—always put up a good fight, especially when others are looking, is what he had told you once upon a time. “I’ve missed you so much.” It comes out in a low murmur, eyes locked onto yours and refusing to stray, even when you decide that his gaze is a bit too heavy for the setting and avert your own.

“I-well-you…just get inside your office.”

He’s nice enough to hold back a chuckle, instead stepping to the side so that you can shuffle past him and inside. Before he shuts the door, his gaze turns icy and his smile thins out as he lets his eyes sweep over everyone present. A resounding groan is heard, the unspoken promise loud and clear, and then he’s pushing the door shut and turning on his heel.

You’re on him in a second, arms wrapped around his waist as you bury your face into his chest. He returns the hug just as quick, thick, burly arms circling around your shoulders as his head dips down so he can stuff his nose into your hair and breathe your scent in.

Your voice comes out muffled as you try to speak, and he loosens his hold on you a bit, allowing you to pop your head up so you can look up at him. There’s a halfhearted pout on your lips, and his response is a reflex as he leans down to give you a peck once, twice, three times before moving on to place one on the tip of your nose.

“You were supposed to let me scold you out there, birdie. Now everyone’s gonna know that I let you off easy.”

“Let me off easy? I’d say this is the meanest you’ve ever been to me,” he gives an exaggerated expression of hurt. “You haven’t even told me you missed me, or that you’re happy to see me, or that you’ll never leave again because you couldn’t stand being away from me.”

“You’re so dramatic.” You smile despite yourself, and he kisses you again, scarred hands moving to cradle your cheeks. You part with a gasp for air, and its his turn to smile when you stretch up to reconnect your lips, the lack of air not deterring you in the slightest.

“Breathe, sweetheart…” He rasps against your lips, and you suck in a breath, eyes slowly blinking as you tug at the material of his shirt. There’s a rush of emotions that washes over him at the unspoken confirmation that you missed him just as much as he had missed you, and he lets his hands wander down to settle on your waist, fingers flexing as they squeeze at the flesh there through the material of your dress.

“Well, well, well,” he starts, and you blink out of your stupor to don a guilty expression. “Looks like you haven’t been eating right, either, hypocrite.” He lightly pinches at your side, and you squeal out a laugh as you lightly bat at his hand.

“Have I told you that I missed you, and that I’m sooo happy to see you, and that I’ll never, ever leave again because I can’t stand being away from you?” You flutter your lashes up at him, direct that heart-stopping smile up at him, and for a split second he thinks that the primordial sea has broken the seal and reduced him to nothing but a puddle at your feet.

“Careful now, words like that are liable to kill a man, and this place isn’t fitting for a sweet girl like you.”

“Oh? Then maybe I should leave earlier than I intended t—” He quiets you with a kiss, and you laugh into it, earning a gentle nip on your bottom lip. Your teasing smile settles into something sweeter, tender, vulnerable, and it mirrors him perfectly.

You both speak your next words in unison.

“I missed you.”

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 8

Word Count ~ 4.6k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ sexual content, slight breeding kink, body horror, minor violence

Also available on AO3

taglist @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

You always have to be extra careful when one of the Sverchzt sisters is asking to enter the building.

Twins, and both of them nearly identical, save for the location of the mole on the cheek: on the right for Selenne, the left for Elenois. Both employed as models, with the same hourglass figures, full, painted lips, long lashes, and breathy voices accented with something exotically European sounding. You always feel very plain and lacking around them; it was like being back in school again as the shy, unpopular girl, envying the pretty cheerleaders that seemed to have it all.

But you don’t feel inadequate today, still buoyed up from your feelings of being with Francis’ doppelgänger all weekend. You look over the identification card and entry request, finding everything in order. The elegant woman is on the day’s list of expected entrants, too. You’re nearly ready to hit the switch to grant her access into the apartments, still reminiscing about your fiancé, when something in you, some sixth sense kicking in, cautions you that you should probably call the apartment, just to be certain. There is nothing visually you can identify that is incorrect about the haughty woman on the opposite side of the glass, who is now folding her arms across her ample chest, the polished nail of an index finger tapping against the porcelain skin of one slender forearm. An impatient gesture you’ve seen Selenne make before, dozens of times. Nothing suspicious about the documents, either. But still, you feel it is better to be safe than sorry.

You already know all the residents’ phone numbers by heart now, the quick four digit extensions granting you rapid access.

“Hello. Elenois speaking. My sister and I are both at home today. We are not expecting any visitors.”

“Thank you.” You keep your expression calm, hurriedly flipping the plastic shield down and depressing the button to sound the alarm, catching one last glimpse of the doppelgänger, the crimson polished nails now scratching at the glass pane, the eyes with the lids shadowed in lavender streaked and bloodshot, the plush lips parting to expose yellow fangs dripping spittle before the shutters finish descending. You phone the disposal team, still maintaining your composure.

Close. That had been too close. You had to concentrate. Focus.

The day progresses and you find yourself getting back into the rhythm of things. Wondering how your pretender beau had decided which members of his squadron to sacrifice, sending them to the building to meet their doom to throw the DDD off the trail. What would happen when the numbers dwindled, when there were none left to send? Did the faded mark he’d left behind still shield you? Or did it only make you more desireable, like what had happened with the replicant who looked like Izaack Gauss?

You’re picking at the peeling varnish of the battered desk during the afternoon lull when someone walks into the building and your heart stops.

Francis.

Not the original, and not your doppel, either. This one is nearly a dead ringer, except for the nose that’s not quite right, the tip slightly larger, the nostrils a little more flared.

It had never occurred to you that there would still be other versions of the milkman walking around. Where has he been all this time?

“Mmm…hello.” The customary greeting the genuine version had always adopted. He slides an ID card through the slot.

“Entry request?”

“I’m sorry, I forgot. Here it is.” The smile breaks your heart. His smile. Only not.

You stare at the document for long moments. Everything looks correct: the document expiration date present and set for the future; the serial number identical to what you have on file; the logo of your organization in plain sight; the stated reason for the alleged milkman’s absence logical. All of the elements appear as they should, save for that slightly mismatched nose in the photograph and entry request.

“Is there a problem?”

Your eyes lift to meet his. Why are you drawing this out?

“Your appearance,” you answer distractedly.

“Yes? What about it? Doesn’t it match the picture?”

You shake your head, reaching for the alarm button. “I’m sorry.” It’s foolish, being this sentimental. No reason for it. You know the real Francis is gone. You know it’s not the invader you’ve fallen for.

Alarm blossoms on the fake milkman’s features. His hands clasp together. “Wait, please…I’ll leave. Just…I don’t want to die.”

You freeze. This was new. The doppels always reacted with anger when their cover was blown. You’ve never had one beg for their life before.

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Was it true? Were there others that were willing to coexist peacefully? Had you incorrectly assumed they all sought the same goal, replacing humans and ruling over the planet, the one remarkable exception being your lover?

Or was this just a new tactic that they’d adopted, evolving, learning, adapting better to human weaknesses?

You had no way of knowing which it was.

“I can’t,” you say. “I’m sorry.” You slam your fist against the alarm switch before the replicant tries to escape, that same soft, pleading look haunting you as the shutter descends. The cleaners arrive and you cover your ears with your hands. You don’t want to listen to it. You can’t.

There are tears in your eyes when the figure in the yellow hazmat suit declares you are now able to return to your job.

***

The replicant milkman—yours, you note with relief—arrives later that afternoon, hastily adjusting the cap on his head, offering a brief glimpse of the perspiration from the heat outdoors lining his brow, his tousled brown locks damp, plastered against his forehead. He’s already smiling before he’s even reached the window, hurriedly thrusting his document and ID card through the slot, and something else, something that sounds metallic against the shallow stainless opening at the bottom of the window.

You reach for it, realizing what it is the second your fingers close over the object: your engagement ring.

The DDD had ceased its surveillance of the security booth, the resources and manpower needed elsewhere, apparently, so their is no longer the camera or the person watching it to worry about. You stare at the solitaire diamond, at the pretty filigree decorating the band on either side of it, and the tears that had been threatening to spill earlier come pouring out of you, a messy amalgamation of guilt and fear and relief releasing in that sudden cascade.

“Sweetheart, you like it that much? I’m so glad, I wasn’t sure…” His voice trails off. “What’s wrong? What happened?”

You shake your head, absently hitting the buzzer to let him in, then hitting its partner to shut the door behind him.

The door to the security booth opens. “Oh, Francis.” You throw your arms around his neck, burrowing along his shirt collar while he rubs soothing circles on your back.

“What is it, love?”

“I’ve had such a terrible day. I almost let in a doppel by mistake this morning, and just a little while ago there was a doppel that looked like Francis.”

“Sweet girl.” His arms tighten around you.

“He begged for his life, Francis. I’ve never seen that before. It was so difficult to call the team. But I had to. I had to do it. I didn’t know if he really meant he wouldn’t harm anyone, or if he was lying. I couldn’t risk him hurting the residents inside.”

“Of course you did, love.”

“How many copies of him are there? Just roaming around the city?”

“I don’t know. But it wasn’t Francis and it wasn’t me. They were just trying to trick you, and you didn’t fall for it. You did the right thing. I know it was difficult for you. I know why, love. I’m here now. I’ve got you.”

You remain in his arms, letting the comfort he’s offering seep into you. He does understand, better than anyone else ever could. After a time you draw back, sniffling. The ring is still clutched tightly in your fist. You relax your palm, spreading your fingers so you can admire the piece of jewelry again. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ruin the moment. It’s lovely, Francis. Perfect.”

The imposter smoothes the last of the tears away and kneels down, gently plucking the ring from your right hand, then reaches for your left one, sliding the diamond band onto your ring finger and kissing the back of your hand.

The sound of a throat being cleared at the window interrupts the moment. You jump, startled. It’s the pilot.

“Dropping off more paperwork, doll?” Steven Rudboys grins, sliding his card and request form towards you.

You blush, aware of your fiancé rising to his feet beside you, frowning. Of course he doesn’t understand the reference, from that day when you’d visited the doppel so early on, when he’d slipped you the invitation to come to the apartment.

“I suppose congratulations are in order,” the man with the Mohawk says, his eyes lingering on the ring. “I always knew you two would end up together. Took you long enough, Mosses,” he adds, shooting the imposter milkman a sharp glance. “Don’t know what Afton and Stone are waiting for. I thought for sure they would’ve set a date by now. Bet you two don’t wait that long to tie the knot.”

Your cheeks are scarlet, your eyes focused on the documents, checking the day’s schedule. On the day’s list. A quick phone call just to confirm what you already know, allowing the man to enter the apartments once you’ve spoken to his father, heaving a sigh of relief when he’s finally gone from sight.

“I don’t like him,” the pretender says, his voice nearly a growl. “I don’t think Francis ever did, either. Too intrusive.” He turns his attention back to you. “Maybe not the best timing for the ring,” he observes ruefully.

“I’m sorry. I love it. Truly. It’s just been a very hectic, stressful day.”

“Don’t apologize. You have every right to be feeling that way. I think…I hope…I can help with that. Come see me as soon as you get off shift, okay? And be careful. If you need me, call.”

You nod, kissing him before he exits the booth and heads towards the elevator. You stretch your hand out, turning it slightly, watching how the light plays over the facets. It was official. You were engaged. You doubted it would take long for the rumor mill of the apartment building to circulate the news. Poor Francis. He’d be bombarded with well wishers and busybodies. Rudboys was probably going to keep at him mercilessly.

The rest of your shift passes by blessedly uneventfully. It is nearly time for your workday to end. Time to return to your lover waiting for you upstairs, the doppel you’re betrothed to.

***

You tap your knuckles on the door of apartment 3-02, greeted by the copy of the living space’s former owner.

He’s shed the troublesome cap, the ebony bow unknotted and draped around his neck, the first pair of buttons on his shirt undone. He smiles at you. “Hello, future Mrs. Mosses.”

“Hi. Can I come in?”

“Do you have proper identification?”

“I seem to have forgotten it.”

He clucks his tongue. “Then I can’t let you in, I’m afraid.”

“Do you accept bribes?”

His lips twitch. “Maybe.” The opening widens. “Come in here.”

You enter and the door closes behind you. “That was easy. I don’t think you’d make a good doorman,” you tease.

“No, but I make up for it elsewhere, don’t I?” He murmurs and you hum in agreement as he slides a hand around your waist, dragging you against him. “It’s torture being away from you. To go from having the weekend together to this long absence all day…” His lips touch yours, traveling to your neck.

“I know. I thought about you all day long.” Your hand rests on his chest. He covers it with his own, toying with the ring on your finger. A little room to move the band, but still secure around the digit. You didn’t wear jewelry often, but the size you’d told him had been the correct one. “I love it, Francis.”

“I’m glad.” Another kiss on your mouth. “I’m hungry for you, love.”

You feel it in his kisses. No longer gentle. Tongue stroking yours roughly. Teeth nipping. You cross the hallway to the bedroom with your fiancé. Unfastening clothing. Yours. His. Impatient to be naked. A button tears from your blouse. “I’ll mend it later,” you say distractedly.

Your back is tucked against his chest, the pair of you standing before the dresser mirror. Your breathing is loud, nearly as loud as his. You would have been mortified to be making so much noise even a month ago. But you have no reason to hide it now. You’re engaged. No one on this floor was going to pretend they didn’t know what goes on with young couples behind closed doors. You’ve heard Afton and Stone going at it before. Not nearly as often or as loud as you and your doppel, though.

You’re about to bend to slide your thigh high nylons off but the copycat halts you, his hand clasping yours above the scalloped lace edge that clings to your leg.

“Leave them on for me? I like them.” He snaps a garter belt playfully, dragging a hand over your lace panties. Something else that was new. You normally wore sensible undergarments beneath your work clothes. But now you had someone to admire what clung to your intimate places. He caresses the space between your legs through the delicate fabric, dragging his hand up to begin massaging your breasts encased in a matching brassiere. “Gorgeous. So beautiful, love.” His mouth worries along your shoulder.

“Are you going to mark me again?”

A pause, his hands and lips freezing. “Do you want me to?”

The low pitch of his voice drags across your core. You’re still frightened of it. But you want it, all the same. You want this creature to claim you. “Yes. Do you?”

The doppelgänger’s lips are by your ear. “Yes, love. But you shouldn’t watch…”

Your eyes meet his in the mirror. “I want to. I want to see you…”

“Sweetheart…” Hesitant. Perhaps more afraid than you are. To be seen. Exposed. To let the monster off the leash, as it were. Allowing the demon within out to play.

“I trust you.”

He moans softly against your hair. “Are you sure? Are you absolutely certain?”

“I love you.”

A whimper. The thing inside anxious to be let out, scratching and gnawing at the bars of its enclosure, that barrier of human flesh that had once belonged to Francis Mosses. Nails raking across your abdomen. Not enough to puncture the skin, still careful, the barest scrape of the unsheathed claws you can just see emerging now. Tearing at the fabric covering your sex, the material fraying, the embroidered threads coming loose. The crown of chocolate hair lifts and you see his eyes: the doppel’s eyes, peering at your from behind Francis’ sleepy dark ones. Red like blood, like the vessels that burst in surrender, like the lining of those shadowed lower lids. The white sclera of the orbs iridescent, shimmery, identical to the outline of the alien creature clutching you, an unsteady shift in the very particles and atoms that comprise him, things unseen, things not meant to be viewed by a mortal eye. The neat ivory teeth no longer tame incisors and molars, but transformed, sharp like the cuspids of a vampire, ravenous, the drool dripping from them onto your skin.

It is still not what he truly is; that monster well concealed, struggling to maintain control in this tenuous bridged state, not quite one or the other, partly human, partly doppel. What remains of your panties are shoved down, his leaking cock pressing against the curve of one cheek of your buttocks. He pushes against you and you grasp the edge of the dresser, the stained and varnished wood supporting you at a slight angle as he guides his erection inside of you.

Your body is already gushing arousal, welcoming him in. You catch sight of your heaving chest in the mirror, your lingerie encased breasts lifting and straining to burst free, much like the replicant thrusting into you.

He says your name, and it is not Francis’ voice at all. This a summons from deep within, heavy, full of gravel, dragging across your flesh like sandpaper. The wavering, mirage-like border of his pulsing frame feels hot, sticky. Your lashes flutter. The bottles of cologne lining the dresser’s surface tumble down. So deep. He’s so deep inside of you. Shoved in to the hilt each time. And still you want him even further. Impossible. But you crave it. That complete violation. Was this what it felt like to be taken over? You’d imagined it to be painful, terrifying. Instead it was sheer bliss. Your eyes link with his through the oval shaped looking glass once more.

“More, please, Francis…”

He jerks you away from the dresser, still impaled on his cock. Here is the pain you’d anticipated, that searing kiss of teeth piercing your shoulder, sucking the skin over the bone, a burst of stars in front of your eyes, fireworks ricocheting within you as you come undone, your insides splashed with something molten, soaked with your lover’s release. Wet skin, wet pussy, drenched prick, sweat and cum and that thin trail of blood seeping from the wound he’s created, laving rapturously at the taste of you, that very human taste in his very inhuman mouth.

His body shudders against yours. Aftershocks, not from orgasm but the shift back to how he appeared before, the glow dissipating, eyes cleared and gentling, the sharp hooks tipping each finger a replica of Francis’ blunt edged nails once more. Only a few red welts betray those nightmare claws’ existence, where he had become a little too lost in the passion, tattooing the soft flesh of your abdomen. The door to the invader’s cage is sealed shut once again. You hold him upright as much as he holds you steady, slipping free from your entrance, the hot spill of seed leaking down your thighs, seeping into the stockings. You can feel the tremors still spasming, your own nerves quivering with the remnants of pleasure, echoing against you as your lover’s body shares the same sensation. The panting breaths grow quieter. The sound of the Rudboys’ television next door disturbs the stillness. You’d completely missed the audio cue of the curfew horn.

“Sweet girl.” It’s all he can seem to manage, this whispered into your hair. It’s the milkman’s voice again, but it sounds raw, raspy. The vocal chords had been strained, never meant to produce the sounds they had earlier.

You rest your hand on the one clutching your abdomen, the glint of your engagement ring winking, a stubborn sparkle in the glow of the lamp, struggling against the growing darkness in the room as the day’s natural light fails beyond the curtained window.

***

The blackberry jam, pulled from the refrigerator several hours later, is perfect.

Perhaps one of the best batches you’ve ever tasted. You’ve snuck a sample from the unsealed mason jar, unable to wait. You’re already imagining how good that flavor will be when it’s smoothed over the biscuits you’re making with your doppelgänger, his fingers kneading the dough mixture you’ve just created. There is a stray bit of flour dusting his nose where he’d absently stroked an itch along the bridge and you wipe it clear, the touch becoming a lingering caress. He pauses, fingers still dug into the dough, looking at you with that same kind of wonder as he had earlier, after the incident in the bedroom.

As if he cannot believe what you’d asked for, accepted so willingly, eagerly; of the control over his true form he’d been able to maintain, keeping you safe.

Pats of butter melt quickly on the sliced biscuits pulled from the oven. You’re sweating. You need a shower after this for certain. You slather on a generous layer of the sweet fruit spread, offering a bite to your fiancé. He chews, nodding approvingly. There is a stray bit of jam on the corner of his mouth. You cannot resist lapping at it. Licking his mouth open. Tasting the sweetness there. Marveling at how quickly the desire is rekindled. Perhaps you would never be sated. Always this ache, this gnawing want in your center.

Drenched in the shower together. Back out again. Night sounds through the open window. The measured footsteps of a patrol. Soft chatter. A dog barking. You miss your farmhouse. The crickets and the scent of lilac blossoms and your lover in your bed, on cotton sheets that smell like the outdoors, hung on the line to dry in the clear air.

“Francis,” you murmur, your mouth tracing the outline of the crest of one hip, you hand curled around the other. Tasting the soap on his skin, the slight masculine musk as you wander along his groin, swiping your tongue across his cock.

Your shoulder throbs, pulsing in time with the neediness within. You want it again already. Not just the sex, but the other. A strange kind of addiction developing.

Your pussy aches to be filled again. You suck his erection and moan, hastily tucking your hair out of the way. Ravenous. An animalistic slobber. Lips loose. Shoving down as far as you can tolerate. Past it. Insistent, fucking your throat with his dick.

A little gasp of surprise from the doppel. “Easy, love. Don’t waste it. Want to…”

You release his spit soaked member, planting wet kisses back up his stomach, his chest. Crawling over his body until you reach his mouth. “What do you want, Francis?” Your voice a whisper, matching his.

“Oh love, you know what I want.” This huffed beside your cheek. You’re teasing kisses along his jaw, nipping at an ear lobe.

“Tell me. Tell me how you want to fill me up. With your cock. With your cum. Breed me, make a baby…”

You don’t know where the words come from. Another gasp. A growl. You want to impale yourself on him but it’s not the ideal position for getting pregnant. You allow him to shift, moving your body with his, pinning you beneath him.

“Is that what you want, sweet girl?” His hands press into the pillow beneath your head. There are a proper quartet of them now, piled plush cushions for you and your alien lover.

“Yes. Please, Francis…”

His knee parts your legs. Pressure. He’s inside you.

Your head lifts off the pillow and he captures your lips, pressing you back down. Working inside of you slow and steady, fucking you back open.

“There you go, love.” His mouth gentle on yours.

“I need…”

“What? What do you need?”

Your shoulder is on fire. “I want you to mark me again.”

“No, love. It’s too soon for that.” You feel him shake his head, the faint stir of air beside your cheek with the motion.

“It felt so good.”

“I know.”

“Put the light on, then? Let me see you. Let me see what’s inside…”

“No.” His voice loud now, his hips still against yours. “No, it’s too risky.”

“You can control it. I know you can. I trust you.”

“You don’t understand.”

“So explain it to me.”

“Sweetheart, I can’t. Not now.”

“Why not?”

“Because…”

“Because why?”

“Because I’m afraid,” he confesses against your neck. “You’ve no idea the strain. The desire to tear free. It would destroy Francis’ body. The urge to devour you…” He kisses your throat softly. “Let me love you like the man I appear to be.”

“I love you. You, what’s inside.” You touch his cheek.

“I know, love. And the way that makes me feel is indescribable. I don’t need to be out of this body to experience it. I adore you, sweet girl. Let me show you how much. Like this,” he says, his hips lifting and pressing, guiding his cock back into your hollow.

Your pelvis arches to receive him. It scares you how much you want him. Your body shakes with the intensity of that desire. Craving that violence, that feeling of teetering on the brink of destruction. His, yours. The human mouth on your shoulder. Sucking. Kneading with teeth that aren’t nearly sharp enough. But it stirs whatever he’s injected you with. A venom, a toxin, not poisonous, not lethal, but a chemical that you need more of. Bringing you closer to what you’re so desperate for. It doesn’t take you long to climax, the doppel’s own release close behind. He lifts your hips and legs, propping them against his chest, keeping his seed deep inside you, stroking along your stomach.

Willing there to be a spark of life there, the way all life has begun, according to the words in the holy book still sitting on the nightstand, a burst of light in the darkness.

***

Another day at the DDD security window.

The doppelgängers have been clumsy so far. Woefully inept at replication. You didn’t need specialized training to recognize the imposter for the shoemaker with a mustache as a fake, a single eye in the center of his forehead making Albertsky Peachman look like a cyclops. The clone of the mother of the student living on the second floor had correctly replicated the placement of the blue and green irises, but the phony Nacha Mikaelys’ jaw was strangely formed, the flesh pulpy and uneven, making it appear like oatmeal.

The best part of your workday arrives on schedule, slipping a new gift into the slot this time. “Tickets to the theater for this Sunday. I know it’s not the movie you mentioned, but…”

You grin. You can’t even remember the last time you’d gone to see a movie. And now you’d be seeing it with your fiancé. “Casablanca! Oh, it’s wonderful. I have something for you, too.” You exchange an open envelope with the doppelgänger.

He slides the contents free, unfolding the letter and scanning it quickly, a smile lighting his features. “They’ve invited us to see them.”

You nod, still beaming, watching the invader tuck the letter from your parents back into the envelope. “We’ll visit the following weekend.”

“I look forward to it. Still nervous, but looking forward to it. How was your day, love?”

“It went well. Yours?”

“Better now.” Another smile. “I’ve got another surprise, too. Left it in the truck because I was anxious to see you. I’m making dinner tonight. Well we’re probably making dinner. I’m not optimistic about Francis’ cooking skills,” he adds, lowering his voice.

You couldn’t blame him for doubting it. The man’s pantry and refrigerator had been nearly empty, and you had the feeling it wasn’t just because he’d been overdue for a trip to get groceries.

Thinking of the solitary, simple life of the milkman rinses the joy from your features. No real family to speak of, either, according to the doppelgänger, save for a cousin that he’d had little to no contact with. He really had been alone in the world. Isolated. You could have done something about that. You should have. But it was too late now. And you had your doppelgänger instead. The being your heart was so full for.

“Love?” The replicant sees the change in your expression, frowning now.

“I’m okay. Yes, I’ll help you cook. It sounds fun.” You’re not relishing the thought of working over a hot stove in that stuffy third floor living space, longing for the upcoming change in the weather. But you like the idea of working beside your partner. Preparing a meal. And what would come after.

The bite on your shoulder throbs, reminding you.

[imaginecentralworld]

💎The Season's Diamond💎

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚

ʚɞ Anthony Bridgerton x female reader

ʚɞ PART 2 and PART 3

ʚɞ Summary: Amidst preparations for the Queen's ball where the season's Diamond will be chosen, Lady Y/N Dalton navigates her feelings for her close friend Anthony. As plans and secrets unfold with the help of the Bridgerton family, Y/N faces a transformative evening that could determine her future.

ʚɞ Word Count: 530 (Words), 3,158 (characters)

ʚɞ Warning: This ends with a cliffhanger, more parts will come.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧✩₊˚.

At the bustling French boutique Modiste, Madame Delacroix flitted around you, pinning and tucking the fabric of a gown that shimmered like the morning dew. The air was filled with the scent of fresh silks and the soft murmur of anticipation. Lady Bridgerton, standing by your mother, was deep in conversation, plotting with a fervor only matched by their desire to see you named the Diamond of the season.

"You truly have an eye for elegance, Y/N," Lady Bridgerton praised, watching you twirl gently in your nearly finished gown. "This shade of blue not only complements your eyes but also sets you apart in any crowd. The Queen herself will be enchanted, I dare say."

Your mother nodded in agreement, her eyes gleaming with pride. "Indeed, Violet. With this gown and the right presentation at the ball, Y/N will outshine all. We must consider every detail meticulously."

As plans were laid and laughter shared, the evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows through the windows of the Bridgerton estate where dinner awaited. You felt a flutter of excitement, not just for the ball but for the chance to spend more time with Anthony, whose earlier attentions had left your heart racing.

Dinner was a lively affair at the Bridgerton household, filled with boisterous talk and the clinking of silverware. Anthony sat across from you, his gaze often lingering longer than was customary, filled with an unspoken question. Every smile, every glance sent a thrill of wonder through your heart about his true feelings.

As dessert was served—a delightful array of sweets that only added to the evening’s indulgence—Anthony cleared his throat, capturing the attention of everyone at the table.

"Lady Dalton, Y/N," he began, his voice steady but imbued with a warmth that made your pulse quicken, "I have been considering the upcoming ball and the Queen’s selection of the Diamond. While we all hope for the best, I believe Y/N’s brilliance is evident to all, regardless of titles or accolades bestowed."

You blushed, heart pounding, as murmurs of agreement circled the table.

Anthony continued, "In fact, I would like to propose a toast." He raised his glass, his eyes locking with yours. "To Y/N, whose grace and beauty surpass any jewel in the Queen's crown. May she always shine as brightly as she does tonight."

Glasses clinked in unison, and cheers filled the room. Your eyes met Anthony’s, and in that moment, you sensed the depth of his regard, something perhaps deeper than mere friendship. But before you could ponder it further, Lady Bridgerton leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial.

"And now, my dear, we have a surprise for you tomorrow that might just tip the scales in our favor for the Queen’s decision," she whispered, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Your heart skipped a beat, curiosity piqued. "What kind of surprise?"

"You shall see," Lady Bridgerton replied, the mystery lingering in the air as dinner concluded and the evening waned. You were left wondering about Anthony’s lingering looks and the impending surprise, your mind a whirl of possibilities as the night drew to a close, setting the stage for an unforgettable day to come.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿︵‿︵‿︵︵‿

Just binged Bridgerton in prep for Season 3 and now I'm basically an expert on all things Anthony 🎩✨. Brace yourselves for a deluge of Bridgerton bros content - it's about to get regal up in here! 🍿👑 #TheViscountWhoLovedMe #MoreBridgertonBrosPlease

[edenesth]

TWTHH Spinoff: Love to Hate You [Teaser]

Pairing: royal secretary!San x female scholar!reader

AU: historical au (Joseon era)

Summary: San prided himself on his knack for building easy connections with women, viewing himself as a trusted ally for the opposite gender. Thanks to his deep bonds with his mother and sister, he possessed keen insights into the female mindset. Never did he imagine facing the ire of a woman, until he encountered a resolute female scholar with a strong dislike towards men.

A/N: Once again, special thanks to my one and only, my pookie, @itstheghostofmypast, for coming up with the main concept of San's spinoff.

Main Story | Spinoff Masterlist | Part 1

"I'm just trying to help, Scholar Moon," the royal secretary insisted, his arms emptying as the stack of books he was previously carrying was abruptly snatched away by the newly acquainted female scholar.

You scoffed in response, "I don't remember asking for your help, sir. I understand it must be quite intriguing to meet a female scholar for the first time. However, there's a reason I'm the first. I'm not your typical damsel in distress. I don't need saving. While you may be used to women swooning at your feet, rest assured, I won't be one of them."

San stood in stunned silence as he watched you storming off in a fit of anger, completely taken aback by your hostile response to his well-intentioned gesture.

He had stumbled upon you as you exited the royal library burdened with a stack of borrowed books, his innate helpfulness and gentlemanly nature immediately prompted him to offer assistance without hesitation. But rather than the customary grateful smile and expression of thanks he anticipated, he couldn't believe he was met with such an unexpected and vehement reaction.

Did I... do something wrong?

A court lady standing nearby widened her eyes in disbelief. "Did you seriously just say that? Do you even know who he is?"

You rolled your eyes dismissively. "Probably just a eunuch, why?" you retorted, waving off her concern. "I doubt any high-ranking officials would pay me any mind."

"Well, you're correct about that. He's not a high-ranking official, but he is someone close to the King. He's the royal secretary," she disclosed, causing your heart to nearly stop as you gaped at her.

He's the what?!

I'll do my best to get the first part out as soon as I can! Hope you're excited about Sannie's spinoff hehe as always, let me know your thoughts on the concept! <3

Tag list (1/9): Tumblr is a bitch and won't let me mention more than 5 users in a single sentence, so now my tag list looks like a complete joke🤡

@itstheghostofmypast @huachengsbestie01 @minghaoslatina @weedforthoughtz @minkiflwr |

@cheolliehugs @the-kpop-simp @writingwieny @stayatinykatsy @skzline |

@green-agent @stayinhellevator @vampzity @tinyteezer @evidive |

@vantediary @superbbananananana @kimyeolchan @chocolate-scoups @decadentstrangernacho |

@vic0921 @marievllr-abg @sunnyhokyu @seungmin-in-thebuilding @heyitsmetonid |

@sansaurora9904 @darkestacademiamindsx12-blog @myblovedjyh @professormingisglasses @newworldwritings |

@chicken-fifi @thunderous-wolf @shythinggiver @madnpan @yandere-stories |

@anxiousskylar @frobin4ever @starssongs98 @dollce-exe @jan-l |

@lovelyred2 @haven-cove @watermelon2319 @dreamingofyeo @akimkim |

@scuzmunkie @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @borntoshineateez @st4rhwa |

@ddaeing @tropicalsstuff @bts-army380 @skteezcursed @beauty143 |

@naps-over-degree @idfkeddieishot @sis-101 @lemon-sage17 @jcalicocatj

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[eleanor-bradstreet]

Still Going (Anthony Bridgerton x Reader)

Anthony Bridgerton x fem!Reader Rated/warnings: T - suggestiveness, language, panic attack, feels Word count: 1.4k

Summary: A meaningful moment with your new husband. Author's Note: This is just a lil idea that popped into my head last night. Inspired by just wanting to hug the sad!Anthony from one of @fayes-fics stories. Thank you to @colettebronte for helping me pin down the right moment for the header. 💙

Months into your marriage and your husband still left you numb with pleasure each and every night as you tumbled with one another across your bed. Two things had become abundantly clear to you soon after marrying Viscount Anthony Bridgerton. First was the reason unmarried young ladies were not allowed in private company with young gentlemen, particularly of the rakish variety. And second was that you were one of the lucky ones who did not view cavorting with your husband as some sort of grueling, customary duty for the sole purpose of conceiving children. No indeed, it was proving to be the highlight of your life together as he unlocked unimaginable sensations within your body that left your mind soaring even as you lay limp and panting in his arms.

It was in just such a moment on a still summer night at Bridgerton House that you both collapsed back into the pillows together, spent and euphoric from your lovemaking. You chuckled, nuzzling in close to Anthony’s side as he planted a soft kiss on your forehead. You were fuzzy, lapsing into welcome sleep when he leaned away to reach for something on his nightstand. Then you heard the small clatter, immediately followed by his hissing curses.

“Dammit! No…” He rolled away from you, sitting on the edge of the bed as his voice rose in volume. “No, no, no. Fuck!”

Your eyes flew open to see his broad back hunched over, clutching something in his hands. You gathered the sheet around yourself and shifted to sit behind him. “Anthony? What’s wrong?”

In the low moonlight from the windows you could see he cradled his pocket watch in his palm, a splintering crack now etched across its face. His shoulders were beginning to heave, his breath growing short as he stared at it, transfixed. “It broke…” he croaked. “It…it just fell. I’ve dropped it before, but it broke and I…” He was gasping now, fighting for air like a drowning man as his eyes darted and his hands began to shake.

You had seen this before, one of his spells when fear and overwhelm consumed him. It had happened when his youngest sister had broken her leg during childish roughhousing, again when his brother had received an innocuous bee sting, and again when you had come down with a nasty but passing fever after your honeymoon. Every time someone he loved found themselves in harm’s way he was liable to lose control of his faculties, only temporarily, as his mind spun toward the worst possible conclusions. You knew why he suffered this way and didn’t judge him for a moment. Instead, you had committed yourself to bolstering him through the storms, learning techniques that helped call him back to himself.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders and felt how he trembled.

He continued mumbling to himself, eyes locked on the watch, each word rasping. “It broke…I can’t…what do I…”

“Anthony?” You kept your voice clear and steady. “Anthony, look at me.”

He turned and you were nearly undone by the anguish you found in his eyes. You brought a hand to his cheek and pressed your foreheads together, his frantic exhales gusting across your skin. “My love, it’s alright.” You soothed, stroking his face and running your fingertips into his hair, imploring him to hear you. “You must control your breath. Anthony, follow me.” Reverting to what had worked before, you took his hand and gently guided it to press flat over your heart. You did the same, bringing a hand to rest on his heaving chest so that you mirrored one another. Tears threatened to form at the terrified pounding you felt under your fingertips, something so vulnerable within your husband who was otherwise a pillar of strength.

He was still panicked, nearly vibrating against you as he choked for air, but you kept your breath slow and deliberate, leading him out of the tempest with something solid and rhythmic. After a few moments he fell in sync with you, shuddering inhales that struggled to pace with your own, and desperate exhales as he released the disquiet that surged through him. His pulse began to slow, ever so gradually, and you felt the tension begin to melt out of his frame. He still clutched the watch tightly in his free hand, but the one against your skin grew soft and warm again as he regained himself.

“That’s it. Very good. Everything will be alright.” You cooed, running your thumb over his cheek. You hated that he was faced with such demons and were grateful that your methods of combatting them seemed effective. Anthony sagged against you, starting to breathe through his nose as he settled back into equilibrium. He was always exhausted after his episodes.

“Let me see.” You dropped your hands and gently pried the pocket watch out of his, inspecting it. As far as you could tell the damage was only superficial. Just a fracture in the glass but the mechanism was still ticking. “We can get this repaired.” You reassured him.

He looked back at you, eyes huge and pleading. “It was my father’s watch.”

This was a fact you knew well, with Anthony himself having told you many times before. It wasn’t that he thought you ignorant, it was the anxiety of the moment speaking for him.

“I know, my love.” You nodded. “It is precious. But it is not broken. It’s only the glass that is cracked, see? It’s still going.” You held the timepiece next to his ear so that he could hear its steady ticking for himself. Undeniable relief lit across his face as he let out a shaking exhale, inclining himself to listen more closely. The tempo of the watch gears proved as soothing to him as the beating of your heart. You smiled, knowing the worst was behind you. “First thing tomorrow, I’ll take it to the jeweler and have the glass replaced.”

Closing his eyes for a moment, Anthony nodded. Then he turned to kiss your wrist and place the watch safely in the drawer of his nightstand. Sliding back into the center of the bed, he wrapped you in his arms and burrowed down into the sheets, breathing deep into your hair as he pressed you to his warm, naked torso. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I’m sorry you have such a fool for a husband.”

You pouted. “Why would you say he is foolish?”

“Because he goes to pieces over something as silly as a broken watch.” 

“I don’t think it’s silly.” You stretched an arm across his chest, tucking your head under his chin. “I think it speaks to how deeply he cares for his family. How much he honors his father’s memory, like a true gentleman.”

“Mmm. True gentlemen should not fall prey to such reckless displays of emotion.” He fell back into his Viscount’s tone, bitter and exacting. His censure in that voice was cutting to anyone but most of all to himself. His brutal self criticism had nearly come in the way of your betrothal, and it was something you were actively encouraging him to reduce. Particularly in this matter where he was so obviously not at fault, you would not allow him to chastise himself. You saw things from another perspective entirely.

After a moment, you spoke softly. “I think it may be your heart’s way of asking to be heard.”

Anthony scoffed. “You think I have one?” Not the reaction you wanted, but perhaps the one you should have expected. 

You pulled back to meet his eyes, arms still banded tightly around one another. When you looked at your husband, the most handsome man you had ever seen, the man who had fought for your affections and filled your life with wonder every day since he had won them, you felt nothing but certainty.

“I know you do. I have seen it.”

His features softened, brows turning up as his warm eyes grew misty. With the hint of a smile tugging at his lips, he lovingly brushed a hand along your cheek. “You have seen it?”

“Yes, and in time you will see it too.” You smiled and leaned up into his gentle kiss then returned to lay your head on his chest, trailing your fingers languidly through the dark hairs found there. “I would not have married you if you did not possess one. It is nothing to be ashamed of, Anthony.” You curled more tightly against him, pressing your ear down until you could hear the proof of it. The heart that you loved so dearly, the one bound to your own, now returned to its strong and constant cadence.

“It is beautiful. It may have some cracks, but it is still going.”

Tagging: @angels17324 @bridgertontess @broooookiecrisp @secretagentbucky

[voxsmistress]

Mama Didn't Raise No Bimbo part FOUR!

lets see what else is in store for y/n ... you didn't think Velvette was just going to let her get away now did you?

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven / Part Twelve / Part Thirteen

Seems Velvette had tagged your photo on her story with the hashtag #newmodel? Flicking your gaze back up to an amused Angel.

“Well toots … you might as well collect all three than just two. Here’s to you babe - you are so fucked”. He raised his glass. Raising your own you blink in shock.

Fucked was right.

It had been a few days since your exciting little adventure to the Vee Tower, coupled with the fact Velvette had not only shared your post on Sinstagram but followed you was helping you gain thousands and thousands of new followers and likes. But like your tequila, you took this with more than a pinch of salt. The Vee’s didn’t do anything for free. There was always a catch. You were waiting for this one to hook you sooner or later.

Unfortunately for you, it was sooner rather than later. You had finished your job for the night ready to head home, plus there was a bottle of whiskey and a hot bath with your name on it. Arm raised to wave a taxi you were distracted by your phone starting to buzz in your other hand. Unknown Number. Huh, weird. Deciding to answer it you lower your arm. What harm could it do?

“Hello?”

“Is this Miss Y/n?” Frowning at the unfamiliar voice, hmm you were rather selective about who got your number. So … who was this?

“Speaking…?”

“Ah Miss Y/n I am Velvette’s assistant, and she is insisting that you come in to meet her to discuss an opportunity that you really do not want to miss out on” huh. Okay. Was not expecting that.

“Uh huhh … and when is she wanting to meet?” Looking up at the darkening sky you had a horrible feeling you weren’t going to be going home anytime soon.

“Well, what are you doing now?” Ohhh nooo! Come on!

“I have just finished work and was actu-”

“Ah perfect so you are free. Come to the Vee tower now and we will sort everything. See you soon” your mouth opened and closed as they hung up on the phone. Right eye twitching you took a deep breath in before exhaling slowly. The bloody nerve! Grinding your teeth you raise your arm up again and wave at a taxi. Trying to calm your anger you shove yourself in the first one that appears, telling them to take you to the Vee Tower. Stewing in the backseat you think it must be nice to be an Overlord – just ordering small insignificant demons around. Shaking off the attitude you realise you need to tidy yourself up.

Looking down at your outfit, a sigh escapes you. Not exactly the outfit you’d want to meet the fashionista Overlord in – a leather bustier, leather pants and your customary neon pink accessories and heels matching of course with your favourite faux fur coat – but it was going to have to do. You didn’t exactly have time to prepare. Scurrying around in your purse to find your compact mirror, you quickly tidy up your eyeliner – snarling at the cabbie when he purposefully swerved nearly wrecking your makeup – and pop a new layer of dark pink lipstick on with a topping of gloss. A quick fluff to your blonde/pink hair and that was the best it was gonna get with such little time to prepare. Spying your perfume, you give a little spritz to your neck, wrists, and boobs. Noting that you’d need to get some more on your next outing as you were nearly out.

Thankfully you had just enough time to get all that done before the taxi pulled up at the tower, throwing the money at the demon you step out on the street. If possible the tower seemed even taller than before. Intimidating. Shaking your head you steel yourself for this meeting, how the last one went down with the other two is not what you want this time round. No unnecessary touching. No being cornered. And no flirting. Okay maybe a little bit of flirting, you were a demon after all. Wait – no! No! Bad thoughts!

Stepping in to the reception you check the board to see what floor Velvette was on, marching to the elevators you ignore the same receptionist who seemed surprised to see you again. Yeah, Bitch I’m back! In the elevator you press Velvette’s floor and breath deeply. It would all be okay. Perhaps they were just going to tell you how much they liked your post? Or they were wanting a thank you in person for all the followers? Or how surprised at how naïve and stupid you sounded. Shaking your head you groan softly. Of course it wasn’t doing to be okay, dealing with the Vee’s was never okay. Or safe.

At the soft ding you pulled your attention away from your depressing thoughts and instead to the scene in front of you. Velvette yelling at a load of models, other demons running around grabbing body parts off the floor and clothes being burned. Well. That was different. A twitch of your lips hid a smile – so the Vee’s weren’t as organised and poised as they’d like you to believe. Good to know.

Taking a step into what felt like the Thunderdome your movement must have caught Velvette’s attention, she suddenly was advancing on you and quite fast for someone so short. You thought you were small, but she only came up to your shoulder. Of course her attitude, energy and that amazing hairdo made up at least a foot, if not more. And living with the other two Vee’s she needed as much attitude and sass to keep up.

“Ah so you are Y/n, totally nice to meet you face to face. Saw your post girl and I am in love with them – that last photo dump was so gorgeous and hitting all the trends so good on you.” Linking her arm with yours like you two were old buddies she pulled you further into the room, her voice so quick you had to focus so intently to understand what she was saying.

“So … any who, guess you are wondering why I brought you here?” She gently shoved you down on the chaise lounge, a small ‘offt’ escapes your lips when you hit the seat. Steadying yourself you turn your body to face the Overlord who decided to take a seat right next to you. Your knees almost touching. Okay then.

“Yes, I was curious why…” a glass of champagne appeared in front of your nose – accepting it gingerly you carefully held it in your lap thanking the demon who passed her boss a glass.

“Look, your style is cute but I think with my influence your style can be out of this world – I am in the market for a new model” - a glance to the pile of body parts in the corner of the room made you gulp - “and with your figure and my style we could totally rock this Hell, making us a tonne of money and you a star so whatcha think – whatcha say I can sort the contract out asap no problem, no fuss”. Blinking in a bit of shock at the speed of what she spoke and what she was speaking about you had to hold your hand up to stop her for a second. Information overload.

“Uh – wow that’s real generous of you Miss Velvette-“

“Please call be Velvette, or Vel! None of this Miss business,” Her smirk was widening, her black lipstick was shining under the florescent lights above us.

“Well, Velvette, I am really touched that you think I could model for you as your fashion range is just fantastic and I love it – but if I am to sign that contract what am I giving you?” You pretend to take a sip from your glass. No liquid entered your lips. It wouldn’t be the first time you’d heard of someone being drugged and signing their soul away – you wouldn’t be one of those.

“Oh, nothing big really. Just something tiny. Teeny really. You wouldn’t even miss it.” She wafted one of her hands around as the other was typing away on her phone.

“Uh huh and what would that teeny tiny thing that I wouldn’t miss be?” You hedged her for the answer what you knew was coming.

“Just your soul babes – nothing big.” Yeah, to her maybe. To you it was a massive thing. And you’ll be honest, you didn’t have masses in this Hell but you did have your soul which was more than some have.

“Then the answer is going to be no, Velvette” you placed your glass down on the table. Her fingers stopped twitching across her screen, her red eyes focused solely on you. Now normally you were one to bow your head and not make eye contact, but you’d had enough of the bullying attitude of these Vee’s now – not one but two now have tried to contract you into losing your soul and you weren’t having it! Matching her glare with one of your own.

“No?” Keeping the eye contact you nodded.

“Not to say I am not grateful that you thought of me, or the fact you even took the time to speak to me. But my soul is non-negotiable. Plus, I have a job already. One which I love and want to continue. So, thank you. But my answer is and will always be - No.” You might have held your eye contact, but your hands were starting to tremble a little. Clenching them together in fists you keep your gaze on hers. A small sneer was pulling on her lips, and you were getting ready to be dismembered like the model before you. But it never came. Instead, she laughed. Laughed?!

Not like an evil MWAHAHA laugh. But a genuine laugh. Confused you wrung your hands together as she lightly slapped your knee and wiped a tear from her eye.

“You got guts girl; I’ll give you that.” A strained smile tugged at your lips, dead heart thumping in your chest. “Fine then. No soul contract – which is a shame we could have had so much fun” her expression darkened with mischief sparkling in her eyes pulling a little heat to your cheeks. “But instead let’s make a little deal? No souls just two businesswomen making a deal, whatcha say?”

Raising your eyebrows in interest you place your elbows on your knees leaning forwards: “what do you suggest?”

“Your socials are starting to take off, people are noticing you babes, and I am here for it! You are a rising star, don’t think I haven’t been paying attention and seeing that people are using your hashtags and your name when they’ve seen you at one of the clubs singing performing”, surprised she had even looked you could feel your blush deepen. “So, here’s the deal – you wear some of my designs, tag them in your socials, etc and you come and do a catwalk for me and sing?”

“You want me to promote your clothes and sing at one of your Cat Walks?” you clarify because this evening was not going the way you had planned or thought it would go.

“That’s it gorgeous – whatcha think?” You think this was probably the longest Velvette had been off her phone.

“And that’s it? No loopholes, no contracts, no soul-binding – just for me to wear your clothes, promote them on my social media and sing at one of your cat walks – that’s it?” You narrow your gaze at the Overlord, there’s got to be some sort of catch here. The way she was gazing at you like a cat that had caught the canary you were sure you were screwed in some way.

“That’s it honey. No catch, no loopholes, just good business”. Humming under your breath, you racked your brains to see if there was anything that could go wrong.

“Okay, how long do I have to promote your clothes for and when is the Catwalk show?” you ask, tapping on your own phone bringing up your notes and typing away.

“Shall we give it six months and see what happens from there? The next Catwalk is in a one month’s time” her smile only got bigger. You couldn’t think where or what could be a loophole, it seemed like too good of a deal. And your mama raised you to believe if a deal was too good to be true then it usually is. But then again. When did you ever listen to her?

“So far so good, but what do you get out of it?” Her smirk grew, well that can’t be good. She reached over and squeezed your leg softly, your eyes flitted from her hand to her smug expression.

“I get exactly what I want gorgeous, but honestly helping rising stars get their fame is mainly it” her charming smile didn’t win you over. She was a lying. But let her keep her lies for now. You knew how to play the game and so far, you hadn’t been burnt. What’s a little risk.

“Okay Velvette, you have a deal”. Raising your hand, she slapped hers into yours and gave it a strong shake – red and black smoke erupted from her making you jump back a little but was stopped from the grip she had. Her grin was terrifying. Her hair was waving around her head like it was full of static. But as soon as the smoke and lights appeared, they disappeared as if you had imagined it. Pulling your hand away, the tingle of electricity ran through your fingers, you knew you hadn’t imagined it. Not at all.

“Well then gorgeous now that’s all done – you can pop back tomorrow and we will get all your measurements and go through colour schemes, styles, etc so keep you day wide open yeah!” Finishing off her glass of champagne we leaned back against the chaise lounge – never once had she let her gaze off you.

Nodding in agreement you thank her while rising from your seat, it was time for you to go and drown yourself in that bottle of whiskey. “You can stay if you’d like?” A flush covered your cheeks at her racking her gaze up your body.

“Thank you, but I better get home. Big day tomorrow I want to be rested” you give her your best winning smile, slipping your purse under your arm. Rolling her red eyes at you she huffed a little, “fineee be boring babes”. Happily!

Before you could even think of taking a step towards the elevator the doors slid open. An unimpressed Vox stood in the middle tapping away on his own phone, not tearing his gaze away from it he steps into the room.

“So what unfortunate soul have you managed to convince to work with you now Vel?” His charismatic voice lacked his usual flare and instead sounded bored. Not something you usually would hear from the TV Demon.

Clearing your throat, you were frozen in place when his eyes connected with yours. Uh oh.

“That unfortunate soul would be me” you smile nervously at him, watching as his screen glitched slightly. That was weird. His bored expression disappeared with the glitch and in its place was his usual charming smile.

“Ah Miss Y/n what a pleasure to see you! What was that you just said?” Velvette appeared at your side, wrapping an arm through yours you watched his screen glitch a little again.

“She’s mine now Voxxie” she smirked at the glitching demon.

“She’s WHAT?!”  

Taglist: @tasha-1994 @azullynxx

[natashascars]

Jealousy, Regret, Reconciliation

Pairing: Regina Mills x fem!reader

Warnings: none?

Word Count: 2k

Summary: In the midst of a lively evening at Granny’s Diner, Regina Mills becomes increasingly agitated by a misinterpreted situation between her secret lover (you) and Ruby, sparking a heated argument. The night brings a storm of emotions, keeping both you and Regina awake, haunted by the recent conflict.

A/N: Heyy, this is my first ever fanfiction and I honestly don’t know how to feel about it. I just wanted to try writing a jealousy fic of Regina because… why not? Also I’m not sure how to tag this because, again, I’m very new to writing fanfiction. Anyways feel free to leave any advice or criticism on how I could improve my writing (please be nice though, because I am sensitive af lmaoo). Oh, and the classic "english isn't my first language" applies to this

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The atmosphere at Granny's Diner was as vibrant as ever, filled with its customary chatter and laughter. Regina Mills sat in the corner booth, seemingly focused on her drink. Yet, her gaze intermittently drifted towards you, engrossed in what seemed like an innocent conversation with Ruby Lucas, your laughters blending in with the diner’s ambiance.

Despite the celebration for a milestone achieved in Storybrooke, Regina's attention remained elsewhere. She noticed the way Ruby's gaze lingered on you, and a flicker of unease sparked within her. Though typically composed, Regina couldn’t help feeling a twinge of jealousy seeing Ruby direct playful banter at you.

Regina had always been protective, especially of you. The two of you had been friends for years, your bond growing stronger as time passed. Recently, however, your relationship had shifted, blossoming into something deeper and more intimate. You and Regina had been secretly dating for several months now, relishing the clandestine nature of your romance, keeping it hidden from the prying eyes of Storybrooke's inhabitants.

As the evening progressed, Regina found it increasingly challenging to ignore the growing jealousy that had taken root within her. Each playful exchange between you and Ruby fueled the flames of her simmering frustration, her jaw clenching with suppressed emotions.

Inwardly seething, Regina took a deliberate sip of her drink, a facade of composure masking the turmoil raging within her. The cool liquid did little to quell the storm of emotions churning beneath the surface as she maintained a poised exterior, concealing the inner conflict brewing within her.

As Ruby leaned closer to you—a gesture Regina interpreted as flirtatious—her jaw clenched further, the surge of jealousy nearly escalating. Her grip on her drink tightened, the glass threatening to shatter under the pressure of her clenched fingers. She had to look away, fearing that her emotions would betray her in front of everyone.

Ruby's laughter crescendoed, a sound that grated against Regina's frayed nerves. Each interaction between you and Ruby felt like a dagger twisting in her chest. Regina's mind raced with irrational thoughts and deep-buried fears. The ache in her chest had morphed into simmering anger, a blend of jealousy and frustration.

Eventually, the tension proved too much to bear. Regina abruptly rose from her seat, the sharp clicks of her stilettos echoing across the wooden floor of the diner, drawing your attention. Your eyes met hers, capturing a glimpse of something raw and untamed within Regina’s usually composed expression before she stormed out of the diner, her sole focus on escaping the suffocating atmosphere.

You watched her leave, a furrow forming on your brow, a mixture of confusion and concern evident. Sensing the tension that had soured the once cheerful atmosphere, you quickly excused yourself from Ruby's company.

Outside the diner, the cool night air failed to offer any relief as Regina briskly walked down the sidewalk, the echo of her heels punctuating the silent night with each determined step. The weight of unresolved emotions hung heavy in the air, evident in her gait and tense posture.

“Regina!” you called out, your voice cutting through the stillness of the night. Regina hesitated for a moment, the rhythmic click of her heels faltering before she continued walking, determined to distance herself from the scene that had stirred up a storm of emotions in her.

Desperate to bridge the growing distance between you, you quickened your pace, the echo of your own heels resonating as you tried to catch up to her. “Regina, please!” you called out again, the urgency evident in your voice.

Regina slowed down, hesitating for a fleeting moment before reluctantly turning to face you. Despite the distance, the streetlights illuminated the conflict etched on her features, a blend of hurt and frustration.

As you finally caught up to her, you were slightly taken aback by the look on her face. "What's wrong?" you questioned, worry lacing your voice.

"What's wrong?" Regina scoffed, her eyes flashing with suppressed frustration. "Can you not see it? How you entertain every flirtatious remark from Ruby as if it's some kind of game?"

Your brows furrowed into a puzzled expression. "Regina, Ruby and I are just friends." you defended, a hint of frustration creeping into your tone.

Regina's facade cracked, her voice rising with pent-up emotions. "Friends? Can't you see how she looks at you? How you laugh at her jokes and bask in her attention?

"I don't know what you're talking about," you retorted, a surge of defensiveness colouring your voice. "Ruby is just a friend, and you know that."

"Don't play ignorant!" Regina's words cut through the air like a knife. "I saw the way Ruby practically threw herself at you, and you seemed all too eager to indulge her!"

Confusion swept over you. "Indulge her? Ruby was just being friendly!"

"You don't see it, do you?" Regina's voice wavered between anger and hurt. "I've watched the way she looks at you, and it's not just harmless banter!"

Caught between Regina's piercing gaze and the unexpected accusation, you felt a surge of frustration rise within you. "Regina, it wasn't like that! Ruby and I were just having a conversation—"

"You can't be that naive!" Regina cut in, her frustration boiling over. "She was flirting with you right in front of me!"

You let out a scoff of disbelief. “Are you serious, Regina?” you questioned, eyebrows raising in astonishment. “Are you actually suggesting that? Or are you just fucking jealous?” you shot back, your disbelief now mixed with irritation.

Regina’s eyes widened, her initial frustration giving way to a mix of surprise and indignation. “Jealous?” she snapped back, letting out a breathless chuckle. “Don’t flatter yourself. I’m just pointing out the obvious.” Her words carried a sharp edge, her frustration still palpable.

“You’re overreacting!" you retorted, anger and hurt evident in your voice. "Sorry I didn't realise I needed your permission to talk to someone!"

The words hung heavily in the air, each sentence fueling the fiery argument. Regina's jaw clenched, her emotions unravelling with each passing second. "This isn't about me. It's about you and your constant need for attention from others!"

Her words cut deep, and you felt a surge of frustration mingled with hurt pride. "Is that what you really think?” you questioned, the words coming out with a mixture of hurt and astonishment.

Regina’s gaze hardened, the tension palpable in the charged air between you. “It’s not about what I think, it’s what I’ve seen.” she retorted sharply, her voice tinged with a mixture of exasperation and lingering hurt.

You stared at her, a lump forming in your throat. The air around you seemed to disappear, making you feel suffocated. “After everything—” you paused, struggling to contain the tumultuous emotions threatening to spill over. “Do you not trust me?” you whispered, tears threatening well up in your eyes as you swallowed the lump in your throat.

Before Regina could say anything, you turned away and stormed off, leaving her standing there in the chilly autumn night. Regina watched you disappear behind a corner before she let out a frustrated groan. 

Regina got into her car, slamming the door shut with an echoing thud and driving away. Both of you retreated to your respective homes, leaving the echoes of the heated argument haunting the empty streets of Storybrooke.

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As the night settled in Storybrooke, both you and Regina sequestered in your separate residents, enveloped in the lingering aftermath of the argument. The thunderstorm raging outside seemed to match the intensity of emotions both you and Regina were experiencing, leaving you both unable to sleep.

Regina sat by the window of her dimly lit bedroom, the occasional lightning illuminating the shadows that danced on the walls. Her mind was a chaotic whirlwind, replaying the argument with you over and over again. Frustration mingled with regret as she pondered her rash actions. She knew her emotions had gotten the better of her, unleashing a torrent of pent-up feelings she had desperately tried to conceal.

Regina continued watching raindrops race down the glass pane, mirroring the tears she had refused to shed. Her thoughts drifted back to the moment she had stormed out of Granny’s Diner, her heart aching with the realisation that she might have irreversibly damaged something precious with her outburst.

Meanwhile, you sat in your own dwelling, the distant thunder echoing the turmoil in your mind. The argument replayed in your thoughts like a broken record. Confusion and frustration gripped you as you pondered the misunderstanding that had spiralled out of control.

Despite your best efforts to push the heated exchange aside, you couldn’t shake off the unease that lingered. Regina’s words cut deep, leaving wounds of misunderstanding and hurt. You hadn't anticipated this level of conflict, especially with someone as close as Regina.

As the night wore on, the storm showed no signs of relenting, as if mirroring the unresolved tension between you and Regina. Each raindrop that splattered against the windowpanes seemed to echo the unspoken words and emotions that lingered between you.

In a sudden surge of determination, Regina couldn’t let things remain this way. She couldn’t shake off the unsettling feeling of discord that had settled between you two. Despite the pouring rain outside, Regina made a decision.

Grabbing her coat, Regina dashed out into the storm, the raindrops pelting against her skin. She hurried through the deserted streets of Storybrooke, the only sounds being the rhythmic drumming of the rain and the occasional distant rumble of thunder. Each step towards your house felt heavier than the last, fueled by the urgency to clear the air and mend what felt irreparably broken.

Lost in your thoughts, you were startled by the sharp knock echoing through your home, interrupting the solitary brooding. You hesitated, puzzled by the unexpected visitor in the midst of such a storm. As you approached the door, the knock came again, more urgent this time.

Opening the door, you were taken aback by the sight before you—Regina stood there drenched, rainwater streaming down her face, making her usually impeccable appearance dishevelled.

"Regina, what—?" Your words were cut short as Regina closed the gap between you in an instant, her hands softly cupping your face and her lips meeting yours in a passionate kiss.

Your initial shock quickly gave way to a surge of warmth as you reciprocated the kiss. Despite the storm raging outside, this moment felt oddly serene—the only thing that mattered was the feeling of her lips against yours.

Regina pulled back slightly, her eyes searching yours, a mix of apology and vulnerability reflected in their depths. “I’m so sorry.” she murmured, the words tinged with sincerity. “I didn’t mean for things to escalate earlier. I just...”

Regina’s lips parted, but no words escaped. You reached out, gently brushing a rain-soaked strand of hair from her face. Your gaze held a silent understanding, an unspoken acknowledgment of the tangled emotions that had led to this moment.

“I overreacted.” Regina admitted softly. “I let my insecurities get the better of me. I never meant to hurt you.”

The sincerity in her gaze was undeniable. You could sense the walls she had meticulously built crumbling down, exposing her raw feelings beneath the surface.

You gave her a sympathetic smile before pulling her into a tender embrace. Regina’s arms wrapped around you and her breath hitched slightly as she buried her face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your familiar scent.

"I didn't mean to upset you either." you whispered into her hair. Regina’s embrace tightened slightly as a silent acknowledgment of your words.

You both lingered in the embrace, finding comfort in the closeness that transcended words. However, as if nature had its own timing, a sudden rumble of thunder echoed through the sky, reverberating around you. Regina instinctively pulled away, her eyes widening slightly in realisation.

You glanced towards the downpour outside, the intensity of the storm painting the world in shades of grey. The reminder brought a faint chuckle from both of you, a brief interjection in the midst of the emotional intensity. 

"Come on, I don’t want you to catch a cold." you said softly, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you pulled her inside your home, away from the rain-soaked night. As Regina stepped over the threshold, you closed the door behind her, shutting out the storm and the chaos of the outside world.

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[endless-ineffabilities]

without you, I would not be (Daemon Targaryen x f!Reader)

An outsider growing up alongside the Targaryens, the reader is like family. For Daemon, maybe even more. She gets injured one day, and his affections finally come to light.

word count: 1.6k ▪︎ masterlist

themes/warnings: protective!daemon, friends to lovers, fluff, cursing

series coming soon!

Daemon was fuming. He was a collected person by nature, content with allowing chaos to simply unfold, especially if he had a hand in it. But now and again, his fire reveals itself in acts of passion or calculated transgression. The prince, albeit admired by all, has earned quite a reputation that made him intimidating. Powerful. An alluring enigma.

And in that moment, as he rushedly strode through the hallways, he was beside himself with anger. You had been hurt.

You, the object of all of his affection. His heart’s eternal flame. Not that he ever told you this, of course.

Daemon liked keeping his desires close to his chest. He did not act upon them unless he was sure, and he’s always been sure of you. But for the first time, he was unsure of himself.

He knew what he was, impulsive and dangerous. And you… you were too good for him. Perfect.

All these years, you had grown up alongside Rhaenyra, becoming like a beloved elder sister, and a most-trusted friend and ally. Being an orphaned princess of one of the great houses of Old Valyria, the Targaryens took you under their wing. You became family, almost a Targaryen yourself.

Daemon had also become a close figure, a constant protector and somewhat more than a friend. He liked to press you, infuriate you at times, but you knew it was all out of love. Rhaenyra liked to tease you about her uncle’s apparent admiration for you, but you always pushed it aside.

Surely Daemon doesn’t see you that way. Nearly each night, he had his pick of the finest men and women in the kingdom, the paramour of all those who came and went by his quarters in the late hours. Why would he desire someone younger, someone quite inexperienced as you?

Still, you hoped. Because deny it as you might, you still saw. His lingering gaze, the way his hand gently tightens on your waist, the playful remarks. If it all confirmed what Rhaenyra insinuated, then you wanted him too.

That morning, in one of the combat exercises in the courtyard, you convinced them to let you join in. It has never been customary for princesses to engage in such activities, but you enjoyed them. You enjoyed the rush that swordplay gave you.

This was another reason why Daemon and yourself grew so close. He would train you in secret, away from prying eyes, and over the years, your improvement can mainly be attributed to him.

However, as much of a great swordswoman as you have become, you had been injured that day in the courtyard. You had taken a misstep, which resulted in Ser Criston running his sword over you arm, a long gash running down its side. The Kingsguard hurriedly took him away from you, but you commanded them to stand down. It was a mere accident, after all.

Afterward, you sat in your quarters, being tended to by the maester. Rhaenyra joined you there, too, making sure that you were alright.

“Make sure you sew that nicely,” she said, hovering over the maester, “I don’t want her stitches to suddenly come apart.”

“He knows what he’s doing, Rhae,” you said affectionately, flinching a little at the needle going through, “It should heal quickly, anyway. It wasn’t that deep.”

“We should put that Ser Criston through the ringer,” she pointed out, “Have father conduct a beheading in the next ceremony.”

“Oh yeah, it’s been quite a long time since the last beheading. We have been left wanting,” you smile, going along with it.

A moment passes, and when you see the shocked expression on the maester’s face, the both of you exploded into a fit of laughter.

This was how you and Rhaenyra always have been. Two mischievous peas in a pod. Sisters, truly, not by blood but in heart.

Suddenly the doors flew open, putting a pause on the light-hearted moment. Daemon stood there, his expression unreadable.

“Dear uncle,” Rhaenyra greeted him.

He said nothing, and walked over to you, letting his fingers gently drift across your arm.

“The state of it?” He said curtly, not even looking at the maester.

“The wound itself should be fully healed in around three weeks, my prince. Although,” the maester pauses, “the scar will stay.”

“And,” he said, slowly this time, “which incompetent fuck was responsible?” His eyes meet Rhaenyra’s.

“The great Ser Criston Cole, uncle,” she said, mirth in her eyes, “He has been temporarily dismissed from his post, but he should be back with us after a while.”

“Temporarily dismissed?", he breathed out, incredulous, “He should be permanently dismissed from living.”

You let out a laugh at that, glancing at Rhaenyra who raised her eyebrows at you, “It’s okay, Daemon. It was only an accident. I highly doubt a simple injury warrants anything more to be done. Besides, he couldn’t have done anything more to me if he tried, thanks to you.” You reassured him as he moved away, alluding to his guidance in constantly honing your skills in combat.

“I know that, my sweet girl.” He stood gazing out the window, and you realized that he hasn’t met your eyes since he stormed in. But that term of endearment that he assigned to you made you feel warm, and it always has, since he first used it some time ago.

“There,” the maester exclaimed, standing up, “all done. I will be visiting you tomorrow to examine it again, princess.”

“Thank you, maester,” you addressed him, as he bows, and promptly leaves the room.

Rhaenyra sat closer to you, and inspected the stitches herself. Seemingly satisfied, she stood up, “Alright, well, I nearly forgot I have something to attend to in… uh…”

“Now?” you questioned, as she did not mention anything before.

“Yes, didn’t I mention? My father needs me I believe,” she walked to the door, but just before reaching it, she turned to you and winked.

“Rhae,” you whispered, confusion visible on your face.

Before you could add anything, she left, bidding you and Daemon goodbye.

A long silence followed, Daemon resolute in his post by the window.

“Daemon,” you said, trying to get his attention, “what are you thinking about?”

“All they told me was that you were injured. No one bothered to tell me of the extent of said injury, or of your overall condition, or of who inflicted it upon you and how.”

He turned around to face you then, hands clasped in front of him, “That was all – ‘Princess y/n has been injured, my prince.’ That was all I got. The blubbering messenger couldn’t even answer anything I threw at him about it.”

“It’s not anyone’s fault, Daemon. I didn’t even know that you would be alerted,” you said, “I apologize if you had been inconvenienced.” You knew that Daemon had been away from King’s Landing, assigned to facilitate an alliance with one of the houses in the north.

But you didn’t know that Daemon had assigned his people to keep tabs on you, to regularly keep him informed of how you were doing. If anything of any importance were to happen, he wanted to know right away.

And now, it had, all thanks to that fucking Ser Criston. Daemon wanted to take Caraxes and order him to roast that mongrel alive. All because of a simple injury, as you had so kindly called it. He could not even justify it to himself, but he would do it.

He would do it for you.

You did not understand why Daemon seemed so livid.

“Daemon,” you tried to calm him, “it’s okay.”

“No,” he declared, voice rising, “It’s not okay.”

He slowly made his way to you, and kneels, intertwining your hands, and resting them on your legs. “Something happened to you, and I wasn’t here.”

You two had always been close, so you were not entirely taken back by his actions. But this had an unspoken gravity about it. It feels like more.

His white-golden locks fell in front of his face, as he rested his head on your knees.

“Daemon,” you ran your fingers through his hair, admiration rippling through you.

“If something worse had happened,” his grip on your hand tightened, “I don’t know what I'd do.”

Your heart swelled at that. You had the same sentiment towards him. If anything were to happen to Daemon…

“Somehow I think,” you placed a gentle hand on his chin, bringing his eyes to meet yours, “you would be okay in the end. You are a Targaryen, after all.”

He rose, and sat next to you, keeping your hands together.

“You don’t understand,” Your breath caught in your throat, as he stared at you, “Without you, I would not be.”

It was true, as you had perhaps always known.

He has always been your Daemon.

You allowed yourself to bask in the glow of the moment, until he reached for your face, and slowly, glided his thumb over your lips.

He leaned in, and your lips touched. Still at first, but falling into gentle yet needy caresses, your face tightly held in his.

The room seemed to spin, and your injury was forgotten.

There was only him, his lips dancing with yours. This was a dance with a dragon, one whom you would let engulf you completely.

You broke apart, still ever so close, and smiled warmly at each other.

A moment later, he leaned down to place a kiss on your stitches.

“Hmm,” he looked at you cunningly, “well, time to break Ser Criston’s balls.”

You let out a laugh, and his eyes light up at the sound, at the expression on your face, which he has always loved.

“My sweet girl.”

the end

[rebdekarios]

Gale headcanon Part 2: Wedding Day

Part 1 Here

Galemancers, y’all really liked my first post with all of Gale’s (very likely to be real) wedding planning/day of antics.

I do think this would make for a fun fic and I wanna write it, but yours truly is not in a position to start any new projects at the time being (not saying it will never happen, just right now isn’t a good time!). However, I still wanna add more to this goofy idea of mine.

Here goes!

Wyll giving them lessons for their first dance as a married couple. It’s as hilarious as it is painful to watch. Gale has two left feet and keeps stepping on Tav’s toes. Tav cries out in pain and Gale feels awful so he conjures a rose to apologize.

G: “The Soirées in Waterdeep don’t move with such grand gestures and arduous foot work!” W: “That’s why you asked me to help you, Gale. Baldurs Gate throws magnificent parties.”

Gale keeps reading and rereading spell based cookbooks to try and whip up the reception meal in one fell swoop. He doesn’t trust a caterer and wouldn’t like the taste of anyone’s food but his own.

Tav keeps begging him to let someone else do the work since he’s stressing himself out with these small details, but all Gale does is smile and give Tav a pat on the head and a kiss on the cheek.

G: “Don’t worry about me, my love. Our day will be perfect, just like you are.” T: “I don’t want it to be perfect, I just want you to relax and have fun.”

Tav goes to a separate room to sleep the night before and finds their bed adorned with flowers and petals in heart shapes

Tav finds a note beneath all the bed decorations

“My dearest love, I write this with nervous hands and a fast-beating heart - we are almost upon our wedding day. What seems like a grand milestone is only just the beginning of an even more remarkable adventure. Our days of journeying through Faerûn may be over, but it only prepared me for the most important journey of them all: being your husband. You are everything, Tav. You have made me a better man. My connection with you is as innate as mine with magic itself. From this day forward, I will devote the rest of my life to your happiness. The beginning of that chapter is upon us both, and I am nearly bursting (despite my lack of an orb to make it so) in anticipation for it to begin. With utmost love, your soon to be husband - Gale.

Tav won’t be able to sleep so instead they read this letter over and over again 🥰

Gale lets Tav wear whatever they want on their big day and even paid for it

He just wants his bb to be at their happiest and this is the least he can do

Tav ofc hires Figaro the dressmaker and Zara the mummy to do makeup

Gale turning around and seeing his spouse for the first time the day of 🥺

He’s literally unable to breathe when he sees them walking down the aisle, however he is partly relieved because he was still anxious about Tav getting cold feet

Gale tears up as he reads his vows 🥺

Their wedding rings bearing the same gem that Tara has on her collar

Scratch is summoned 🥺 and becomes a permanent member of the Dekarios household, and even gets his own gem at the ceremony 😭

Owlbear gets the distinct honor of being ringbearer. He takes it very seriously. Because he knows he will get a snack for it later.

“Withers I would like to recruit a hireling” says Gale *puts an apron on the hirelings to have them clean up after the guests*

Halsin whittles them a pair of swans with their necks in a heart shape as their wedding gift. It becomes Tav’s most treasured knick knack in the tower.

Lae’zel gifts them a pair of swords, which is probably customary for her but not so much for couples in Faerûn (Gale fashions a coat of arms above the hearth with them anyway)

Astarion: “I am the gift.” 🙄

Tara finally begins to warm up to Tav when she fully realizes that Tav makes a great addition to the Dekarios family

Tara shows this by flying into Tavs lap and rubbing her face against Tav

Lasts for only about 30 seconds however. She can’t be seen letting her guard down to anyone.

The night ends, Gale and Tav retreat back to the tower with full hearts and a gleam in their eyes, proud of all they’d done to build their lives and excited for what comes next.

But there’s still going to be copious amounts of sex that night of course. They barely get past the threshold of the doorway before they’re ripping each other’s clothes off.

They’re drunk, but not just because they’ve had a few drinks. Love drunk, adrenaline drunk, life drunk.

“They deserve this night, after all they’ve been through,” Karlach says to Wyll as they are walking back to the portal to Avernus.

“Some day that will be us,” Wyll replies proudly.

💜

[leonw4nter]

The Lady And Her Gentleman

Husband!RE6!Leon x F!Reader

Soft fingers curled around the brown leather of the sword’s grip, lifting it from its velvet box. Golden light beaming in from the cathedral windows hit the polished blade of the weapon, creating a momentary flash of white-gold. The sword felt cumbersome and stocky in your untrained hand yet you held it with great pride as you descended down the colored marble stairs of the altar. Each step was electrifying, anticipation weighing heavily on everyone inside. You stop in front of the kneeling knight, his head downcast and his hands placed in prayer position in front of him; his armor shone bright, not a single scratch or dent in sight but not nearly as bright as your eyes, ablaze with admiration for the gallant knight in his knees. You raise the sword before tapping the flat of the blade against his shoulders, reciting your speech as you do the act.

“I dub thee, Sir Leon. Receive now your spurs, your right to suitable arms, and take this, my sword to your side to serve and defend me well. Arise, Sir Knight,” ending it with the customary gentle tap of the blade to his cheek before handing him the sword, your palms in direct contact with the cold steel. Leon takes the sword from your palms and sheaths it in the scabbard that hung on his hip. He gives you the first curtsy he takes as the newly knighted captain of the guards, barely restrained smiles on both your lips before you give your curtsy to him. When you meet his gaze again you practically tackle him with a hug, silk-clad arms wrapped around his neck.

“I’m so proud of you,” you tenderly whisper. “So proud.”

You can hear gasps of surprise and others in slight shock. It’s not customary for the queen to practically fling herself towards her knight but then again, he’s not just any knight; he’s also your husband. You shut your eyes in immense contentment as you feel his hands close in around the small of your back and pull you closer, his head buried in the nook of your neck; you can feel him press a feather-like kiss to your skin, his lips still curled skyward. You pull away, lovingly gazing at him with glassy eyes and a lovelorn grin on your face. He brings a calloused palm to your cheek, his thumb stroking your pliant skin before he pulls you in for a delicate kiss, the eruption of celebratory cheers and clapping echoing throughout the walls of the gothic cathedral.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

“My love, I’m afraid you must stay awake for this play,” Leon softly urges you. Despite him being your husband and the masses approving of your relationship, you two still had to keep up with the queen-knight appearance which meant that despite his status as the spouse of the seated monarch, he would still be somehow below her, which he didn’t mind as long as he stayed close to you. He stood behind your seat, placing a hand on your shoulder and giving you a gentle squeeze.

“I wish to head back home,” you quietly groan before hiding your yawn behind an ivory handkerchief. “I am falling drowsy.”

He lets himself grin when he sees the handkerchief you brought along; it was the handkerchief that he embroidered, dainty stitches of small yellow flowers adorning the corner of the cloth. He isn’t that great at threading needles or creating a perfect french knot but for you he tries his best, consulting books and your guidance. You are a lot better than he is at this but he still decides to do it like the good husband he is for his queen.

“Honey, it won’t take much longer. Keep those pretty lids open for a little longer and then we can head back,” he reassures you. Though you don’t exactly sound very happy to be doing that, you still try to stay awake and look pleased until the end.

You fall deeply asleep on the carriage ride back home, your head resting on Leon’s strong shoulder. He tries to keep himself from swaying along with the movements of the carriage so your temple doesn’t bump against him or disturb your beauty rest, seeing how you’ve been fighting it off since earlier. He takes your hand and twines your fingers with his, admiring the golden band wrapped around your ring finger. Slightly parting the silk curtain, he keeps his gaze trained outside on the ride home.

As soon as you arrive home, he wakes you up and tries to get you to your chambers immediately to be able to have you fall back asleep again. He helps you out of your jewelry and dresses before getting into the bath, preparing your nightgowns before he sets your side of the bed up for the night. After a quick bath and change of clothing, you slide back in bed and promptly fall asleep while Leon watches on. He isn’t that drowsy yet so he decides to practice his embroidery, practicing on one of your socks this time.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

The day is lazy, almost everyone spending it idly by either reading or taking a walk in one of the gardens. Leon is still engrossed in his embroidery, proud of the first perfect chain stitch he made of a tree branch and is bent on making some more for you. He finished working on your socks from last night and moved on to another one of your handkerchiefs but now he’s working on your satin opera gloves, particularly the hem of the gloves. He’s maximizing the free time he has since he has to go on a patrol around the castle before moving on to managing the protection at kingdom borders, which might take him all night.

“You’re doing a lot of practicing, honey,” you comment with a cheeky grin.

“It seems a lot more soothing than I initially thought,” he responds while still having his attention glued to his work.

“Well, you will be embroidering more things in the nearer future so I highly suggest perfecting this craft.”

“What do you mean by that?”

You giggle, just shrugging your shoulders before turning your attention back to the book you were reading, a giddy smile crossing your lips. Leon gets up from his chair and sets his work down, walking over to you and wrapping you in his arms whilst pressing tickly kisses on your neck. His stubble gently scratches against your neck, making you even more tickly when he nuzzles into your neck and breathes in your scent deeply.

“What do you mean by that, honey? Are you trying to tell me something?”

“Maybe.”

He presses even more tickly kisses, his fingers gently prodding at spots that are most ticklish which causes you to thrash under him and shoot up, trying to run away while giggling.

─────────────────────────────────────────────────────

You decide to have a nice walk with Leon, frolicking in a beautiful field of pinks and purples. He decided to bring his steed along instead of another carriage, since he wanted this to be more intimate and private. You excitedly jump down from the horse, not even waiting for Leon to help you down when you finally get there; his heart swells a little when he sees you running towards the ocean of pinks and purples, underneath a canvas of blue and orange. Your hair is not tied up into a bun or pinned back and you look a lot more jovial, especially without the powders and tints on your face. He joins you and you two run around amidst the flowers, giggling and squealing without a care in the world. Eventually, you two get tired and resort to laying in a bed of greens to admire the beautiful open scene beside each other. Leon somehow still has the energy to move around, gathering some flowers before sitting right beside you and weaving the flowers together while engaging in idle conversation with you. You didn’t exactly pay attention to his actions so you were caught off guard when he gently crowns you with a flower crown. He smiles brightly, adjusting it to your head and making sure that the best-looking flowers were displayed at the front.

“You look very pretty with this,” he mumbles to himself. “I should make some more.”

“Yeah, you definitely should make some more,” you softly tell him.

“On it.”

He gets up again and gathers more flowers, ready to weave another flower crown. He comes back with more flowers but he takes a daisy and places it behind your ear before giving you a kiss to the cheek, proceeding to make the next crown.

“Make that one much smaller than mine,” you suggest. “A lot like this,” you add as you make a circle with both your hands.

“A matching bracelet?” He asks and you nod, giggling.

After a few moments, he’s finally done making the second flower crown.

“Give me your wrist, my love.”

You give him your wrist and let him slide the crown in. It looks good on you, complimenting your skin color but it’s best worn for another way.

“It’s actually not a bracelet, my dear.”

He looks a little confused, laying back and resting his weight on his shoulders.

“What do you mean by that?”

“It’s for our baby. I’m expecting.”

He stays silent for a bit before turning to you, briskly sitting up and his eyes going wide, his lips following suit. He nears you, taking your hands in his as he looks at you with a piercing intensity.

“Is this real, my love?” He asks in a hushed voice.

You nod. “Yes. Yes, it is very much real. We’ll be parents.”

He pulls you up and into a crushing hug, practically lifting you up and spinning you around. The world turns into a beautiful blur of the different shades of pinks and oranges as the sun closes a beautiful day. Leon finally sets you down and presses a passionate kiss to your lips, setting a promise to protect his wife and his future child in stone.

NOTE - This fic is a little shorter than my usual fics because I put off writing this and planned on making it a drabble instead but because for some reason I insisted on writing a fic instead of a drabble, we ended up with this fic that is just a buncha ideas thrown in 😭 Also one of my guy classmates is like... subtly making backhanded comments about me and my RE hyperfixation which is... it's interesting and a little funny so let's see where this leads 😭😭 Also my kitten shat inside my house and now it absolutely STANKS and my other cat jumped on me and now I've got scratches all over 😭😭😭 I also took a math quiz that I did not review for and NEARLY failed a quiz in science that I thought I'd do good at 💀 Anyways, that's it and TYSMM for reading my fics!!!!!!!! I <3 UUUUU!!!!!!!

The floral dividers are from @saradika , the images are made by me (sourced from Pinterest).

[cissyenthusiast010155]

Poly!Larissa x Morticia x Reader with the shapeshifting and all, if you don’t want to do it just let me know cause I know some of the request can make people feel uncomfortable.

😊

Hey hey hey anon! I am absolutely comfortable with writing this 🥰 Thank you for requesting it! Had some inspiration from one of @prettyprettyprettybaby ‘s posts on this one. Hope you Enjoy 💞

Some Fun… ~Poly!Morissa xFem Reader

Mommy… Master List

Requests & Prompt-List

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!!, smut, threesome, semi-public sex, pet names, praise kink, shapeshifted d!ck, g!p fucking, eating out, implied exhibitionist kink…?, implied future smut, etc.

Enjoy (;

You weren’t one to usually got to restaurants and such especially not alone, but tonight you had spontaneously decided to go wine and dine yourself.

That’s how you ended up in this high end Italian place, known for their wine. So with a glass of red wine in your hand and having already eaten, you were spending your night away in this fancy place.

The bell of the door rang, indicating someone had walked in. You turned your head slightly to see who walked in, and your jaw nearly dropped to the floor. In walked a tall, blonde goddess accompanied by another less tall, raven haired goddess.

They say a few table away from you but you had a direct cross view. They only ordered salads and then went straight to wine. Your eyes kept fluttering to them. You tried to stop staring, but you were finding it extremely difficult…

A little while later, the women began to get up to leave. A part of you was saddened that they were leaving your presence. But you were even more stunned when instead of going to the exit, the women started to approach you. The raven haired woman took a seat across from you, and the blonde stole a chair from another table to sit adjacent to both of you.

“Um… hi…?” You stuttered, your gaze flickering back and forth from woman to woman in a frenzy.

“We understand that this is not customary, but you see, we saw you staring, Darling, and we thought we might come introduce ourselves…” the blonde spoke with the most sinfully delicious British accent ever.

You gulped and nodded with a strong blush.

“I’m Morticia and this is my partner, Larissa, and we’re in an open relationship…” the raven haired goddess spoke with a sultry tone.

“Oh…?” You chocked out, setting your wine down.

“And we thought from your lingering gaze, Darling, that you might be interested…” Larissa purred.

Your mouth went dry and your breath hitched. Then both women got up. Your eyes frantically looked back and forth. Then Larissa leaned down to the shell of your ear.

“Meet us in the bathroom in 10 minutes if that is indeed the case…” she husked.

~~~

Those was the longest fucking 10 minutes do your life. You stared at the clock intently, and as soon as the clock hit minute 10, you scurried to the women’s restroom. There was only one stall and so you knocked.

“It’s me…” you spoke in a hushed tone.

The door swung open and a creamy, strong hand pulled you in, closing and locking the door behind you. You were slammed against the bathroom door, the raven haired woman’s lips smashing against yours. You moaned into the kiss with need. The blonde was leaning against the door, drinking in the show unfolding before her. At one point, you both pull away breathless from the heated kiss.

“I want to feel her…” Larissa lustfully husked, taking Morticia’s place and trapping you flush against the door.

You gasped as your hips instinctually started grinding against her now very apparent bulge.

“Want to feel your walls fluttering around me, Darling…” Larissa groaned.

You bit your lip and nodded eagerly.

“Please please…” you chanted.

The both of you stripped down to your bras quickly. Morticia helping the blonde with the zipper of her dress and you currying to removed your pants and knickers. With the final throw to the side of Larissa’s knickers, your eyes widened as you got a full look at the woman’s hardened cock. Your needy eyes fluttered back up to the blonde.

Larissa didn’t even take the time to shoot you a teasing quip about your lingering gaze. No, she tapped her sides, indicating for you to jump up, where your legs straddled her waist and she held you against the wall while lining her veiny cock up with your throbbing cunt. She slipped into your heat with ease, causing a throaty moan to escape from your lips.

“God yesssss—” you hissed, Larissa’s dick filling you up in a deliciously overwhelming way.

Morticia was right next to both of you, now teasing her own cunt, moaning at the sight of the two of you. With the pressure of you being pressed between the blonde and the wall, Larissa began thrusting into you.

“Harder, faster Larissa please…” you whimpered, dying of her slow, torturous pace.

Larissa smirked at your plea, looking over to Morticia who was grinning like a Cheshire Cat and nodding eagerly.

“Alright, but you’ll have to stay quiet, Darling…” she breathily purred, “Can you do that…?”

You bit your lip and nodded eagerly.

“Words, Sweet girl…” Morticia warily purred.

Your eyes widened and your breath hitched.

“Yes yes, I can take it please—!!” You whimpered.

At this, Larissa’s lips crashed into yours, before she was pounding into you relentlessly. She pulled away from the kiss only to start marking your neck and shoulders. But you couldn’t keep quiet… Whimpers, moans, and mewls escaped your lips, as the blonde pounded into you without mercy. Morticia hushed you and her hand snaked up to your mouth, covering your helpless moans up tightly.

“Gotta be quiet, sweet girl…” she hummed.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

Oh Shit—!!

You began panicking. But the two women were ahead of you. And the blonde didn’t stop pounding into you. Your screams were muffled by the raven haired woman’s hand.

“Shhhhh, we’re not going to stop for a mere stranger, hmmm Mon Amour…?” She purred.

Larissa chuckled darkly, “Oh no, not gonna stop until we’ve filled our pet up with my cum, so deep she’ll be having my baby…”

You let out a particular leud moan now, the idea of being caught along with being bred.

“I can feel your walls clenching harder and harder, Darling…” Larissa groans.

“Oh my, does being caught turn out pretty, little pet on…?” Morticia taunts, her eyes blackened fully with lust.

You nod vigorously, nuzzling your head in the blonde’s shoulder to muffle your screams. All of this being enough to send you over the edge unexpectedly. You came with a violent spasm and many muffled cries. And Larissa was quick to climax after you, filling you up all the way. Morticia followed right after that, riding out her high on her own fingers.

From there, Larissa slid out of you, catching you as your legs buckled. You looked around and found the raven haired woman was sitting on the counter with her legs spread out wide.

“Be a Good pet and eat me out…” Morticia purred.

“Yes Ma’am…” you panted.

You nodded vigorously and crawled over to the raven haired goddess, placing your hands of her creamy thighs and diffing your tongue deep inside her soaked pussy. The woman’s hand snuck it’s way into your hair, pushing you further into her cunt. You worked Morticia up to the edge quickly and with skill. And she came with a leud groan, which Larissa quickly silenced by smashing her lips to Morticia’s. You happily lapped up all of the raven haired goddesses juices, before meeting your own lips with hers.

The three of you were a panting mess as you hurriedly cleaned up in order to let the next person have the bathroom. You said your goodbyes, Morticia taking one last heated kiss from your lips and Larissa pecking each of your cheeks lovingly.

Then the two women left first. And you followed out after five minutes. When you went back to your table, you found that your bill had been paid and that Larissa had left her business card with her number and a note that read,

Don’t be afraid to call, Darling <33

~~~

Larissa Weems Masterlist

Morticia Addams Masterlist

[notmyneighbor]

Let Me In ~ Doppelgänger Francis Mosses/The Milkman x Female Reader

Chapter 9

Word Count ~ 5.5k

Rating ~ Explicit

CW ~ doppelgänger sex, body horror

Also available on AO3

Fanart used with permission @kaworinx on Instagram and TikTok

taglist ~ @luthien-elvenia-asher @fishfetus @gaudesstuff @nekee-lilac02 @msdevil333 @rrnrjn @maskedpacific @yoongiwantsme @that-0ne-simp @kaislashes @charli33-b33 @finalitgirl

Francis Mosses’ route is almost done for the day.

He normally started with the farthest destinations first and then worked his way backwards, finishing close to his home in the DDD sanctioned apartments.

But there had been a last minute add on, sending him back out again, further from the city and into the suburbs. He’s tired, as always, the early start to each shift, the thin walls of the building that do nothing to suppress the activities of his neighbors taking their toll. He rubs at the drowsy lids that keep insisting on shutting. Almost finished. Just this last one. Humming to keep awake. He should stop on the way home, pick up something for dinner. But that would mean delaying his return. Did he have the energy to even cook?

He’s thinking about you, the pretty young woman that guards the entrance now. The best part of his day. He should get you flowers. Say something, anything, instead of just polite formalities. Maybe today would be the day he found enough courage to express his feelings.

A little more alert now. His eyes flick to the paper on his clipboard. Yes, nearly there. He’s not familiar with this road. The houses are not as well kept. Some even look abandoned. Overgrown lawns. Broken windows. A tendril of misgiving curling around him. Something felt wrong. Maybe he should just say he couldn’t find the address. Offer up this part of the route to someone else working for the company.

But what if the person really needed it? It wasn’t fair to discriminate, was it? That sense of duty keeps his right foot pressed on the pedal. He’s going to finish the job.

He’s reached his destination. It’s difficult to see the numbers, half hidden by the weeds threatening to overtake the mailbox. At least the window panes are intact in this dwelling. Curtains cover the interior completely. The entire home is encased in shadow, darkness that seems to sap the sunlight from above.

The milkman shuts off the engine, easing out of his seat. He’s a little stiff from the long drive, the lateness of his shift. He touches one ear to a shoulder, repeating the process for the opposite side. A satisfying series of cracks. The rear compartment slides open and he lifts the wire rack from storage. The sun is strong against his back, a little perspiration making the white material of his workshirt cling to his skin. He’s suddenly craving something cold to drink. Maybe he should just invite you out. There would be enough time before curfew. Sodas at the local diner. He imagines you blushing that pretty pink shade, your hand covering your mouth. Shyly accepting his proposal.

Francis isn’t really paying attention to the cement walkway he’s traveling on that leads to the front door, ignoring the crab grass poking through the seams of each concrete slab. He doesn’t spare a glance for the peeling paint of the clapboards, the tarnish of the metal doorbell. The door creaks open and he’s got a smile on his face, his customary greeting for customers combined with thoughts of you. Just a heartbeat shy of reacting in time to who—what— waits for him in that dim interior, the hand reaching for the handle of the basket changing course at the last moment, latching onto his wrist and dragging him inside, the basket falling from his fingers, the glass shattering, spilling dairy product over the entryway.

He’s pulled off balance, thrust to one side, barely managing to keep his head from cracking against the wooden floor. Subflooring, not even a proper finished layer. No furniture inside. The home was stripped bare, except for the heavy drapes over the windows, the last illumination from outdoors disappearing from view as the door slams shut. The air is stale, musty. He feels the dust beneath his fingertips. No one has been inside here for a long time.

He’s barely started to struggle to his feet before the creature is upon him. Doppelgänger, he thinks with panic. It has to be. Hands pin his wrists down to either side of his face, his body shoved down beneath the heavy weight of the invader.

It’s not the first time he’s encountered one directly.

Once, when he was younger, he’d gotten separated from his mother at the supermarket. Not paying attention, distracted by the array of goods on the shelves, lost in whatever daydream had overtaken him, until he’d felt the hand on his wrist, the hand that didn’t belong to his parent or a concerned employee or fellow customer, but a doppel. The feeling of claws digging in. Seeking to break the skin, to draw out some blood, just the smallest amount needed to copy his appearance. The pain before an off duty DDD member had thankfully intervened had been sharp, hot, an intensity he’s still never forgotten years later.

This was not that feeling. This is like being submerged into a warm bath, but the water was sticky, cloying. It hurt, but there was something pleasurable about it as well. A kind of numbing tranquility. Pressing against becoming pressing into.

Hold still.

The command said aloud, or in the depths of his mind, he can no longer tell. One last burst of adrenaline making him struggle. The quick, disdainful flick of a claw, the alien’s true appendage, dragging across his skin. He feels the flecks of blood spattering near his collar, hears the wet collisions with the starched fabric.

“God help me…”

The only part of a plea or prayer he can muster. There was no escaping this. He can feel the thing burrowing inside of him. How was it even possible? The doppels only cloned or consumed humans. This merging was something new.

He can feel it digging around in his brain. Sifting through his thoughts.

A DDD establishment resident? Challenging.

Your face. He focuses on it in his mind, recreating each detail of every feature. The scent of you. Summer flowers.

Who’s this?

Don’t hurt her. Don’t you dare—

The numbness has worn off. It is no longer a soothing feeling. He is burning from the inside.

I won’t let you harm anyone. If you’re going to be me, then be me. You’re not going to hurt anyone ever again.

Let me in. Let me in, stop resisting.

Forgive me.

What’s happening? Changing me, I’m not…

Not one or the other. Combining.

Something new.

***

“Francis, wake up.” The doppel’s eyes fly open. A moment of disorientation and panic visible on his features until his eyes find yours in the wan morning light spilling in through the farmhouse window. “I think you were having a nightmare.”

Your hand rests against his bare chest, feeling the pounding of his heart. What would an invader dream about that would make them so afraid? Being discovered? Destroyed?

He reaches a hand to touch your cheek. “Sweetheart.”

“I’m here, love. It’s okay. You’re okay.” You kiss the corner of his mouth. He turns his face slightly and captures your lips again. Hungry. Nipping at your bottom lip. He’s turning, rolling you beneath him.

“My love. Mine.” Tasting your neck. His palm warm and heavy as it dips beneath the scooped neckline of your nightgown. He rolls your nipples between his thumb and index finger, tugging lightly, bringing them into stiff peaks. You squirm, writhing beneath his touch, the mouth of your sex watering for him. Always so ravenous. You can never get enough.

You’re not wearing panties. It’s easy for a pair of fingers to slide right into that warm, wet tunnel. Your breath hisses. He steals the next one, his mouth covering yours. Your fingers wrap around his forearm as he begins sliding the probing digits in and out.

“I want to devour you.”

“Yes, Francis, please…”

“Eat you and then fuck you,” the copycat’s voice continues low beside your ear. “You’re mine.” A growl. His tone coarser. A little more of the doppel side of him showing. Possessive. Aggressive. Acting in retaliation to something in the dream he’d felt threatened by.

“I’m yours.” Your pelvis rocks up against his hand. “It’s you that I love, that my heart belongs to.”

“What’s inside…”

“Yes, what’s inside.”

“Mine forever.”

“Forever.”

He moans against your neck. A broken, human sound. Lips trembling. Pressed gently in a line down your body, the fingers still thrusting in and out, tongue darting out to taste between the petals of your flesh, nose digging into your mound as he grinds his mouth against your clit, sucking. Your hand is now buried in his hair, your eyes watching the way the rising sun filters through the lace curtains, dappled light and shadows painting your torso, lighting threads of gold and chocolate in his hair, on the fine hairs that cover his forearms. A haze blooms around him, a shining halo, a precursor to the pink tinged eyelids, the exploring fingers now withdrawn, claws just peeking out, hinting at what lies beneath, his tongue replacing that vacancy, no longer the short one belonging to the man whose body he inhabits but something serpentine teasing inside, unfurling, squirming, reaching deep, fangs teasing the pink flesh outside, the reddened invader’s eyes asking, begging for permission.

You’re terrified, exhilarated, he’s never been there before, not when he’s like this, he’d been so careful to not let the beast out and you haven’t pushed him, it’s only been a week but it feels like so much longer and you want it, gasping an affirmation, fingers tightening in his tresses. The sensation of being so thoroughly tasted, explored, consumed as the intruder’s teeth sink, pierce, lost in that pad of fat above the start of your sex, his tongue buried inside while he sucks, drawing your bundle of nerves taut against the roof of his mouth drives you right over the precipice, the back of your skull digging into the pillows as you keen, whine, whimper, he drags every desperate sound of pleasure he can from you until you can no longer stand it, overly sensitive, overwhelmed, quaking as you see the rising face of Francis Mosses, no longer giving way to the monster inside.

His next kisses on your mouth are gentle, allowing you to recover, stroking your shoulder, carding through your hair.

“Where did you go,” you murmur, suddenly feeling languid, relaxed, your extremities tingling pleasantly in your post orgasmic state.

“You’re not afraid at all?”

“A little. But I trust you. I know you’d never hurt me.”

“It’s difficult to stop it.”

“So don’t,” you challenge.

“Oh, love, we’ve talked about this. I can’t…”

“Kiss me with that mouth. Your real one…”

“You want that?”

“I want you. I love you.”

“Sweetheart…” His tongue spears your mouth. Still human, still holding back.

You reach down, caressing his hardened cock. “What were you dreaming about? Tell me, I’ll chase them away. Won’t let anyone hurt you…”

“Hnggh…” He moans, his breath quickening. His body shifts, his erection nudging your entrance, your splayed legs tightening around him as he penetrates you, his mouth close to yours. “I was dreaming about the past. The day it happened, when I took Francis. He changed me when I went inside him. Weak body but strong mind. Faith. His feelings for you. I was terrified of being lost in that union. Sharing, merging…unmaking and rebuilding my identity. The way that feels, coming apart like that…”

You gasp and he settles his hips against yours, resting his weight there for a moment, buried inside of you. “He made me want to be him. I couldn’t resist. I’d never wanted anything so badly. Until I met you. The want I have for you, love. The sheer ache of it. I would do anything for you. Risk anything, give anything. You have become my entire world, my universe. The thought of losing you, because of a momentary slip of the reins, because of something I’ve done…I can’t bear it.”

You swallow past the lump forming in your throat. You’d asked him about Francis’ end so many times, halting after he’d stated it would be the end of your reason for he, the doppelgänger, to be with you. But that wasn’t true anymore, was it? Because you’d fallen in love with him. And you felt the same way. You’d risk anything, give anything to be with him. And now you know the truth of it. Why this doppelgänger was so different from the others. Different, because the human whose body he’d taken had irrevocably changed him. Altering his goals, his desires. Tempering the craving for annhilation. Seeking a more peaceful integration. A life with you. The milkman’s final gift.

“I know why you’re scared. I won’t try to push you. I just love you so, so much. I want you to know that.”

“Sweet girl,” he sighs. He’s blocking most of the sunlight now, his face looming above yours. “Just a little. I’ll try…”

You nod. “Let me feel you, love.”

His hips lift. Creeping out of you inch by inch. His eyes changing again. Jaw shifting, mouth evolving. A ripple across the surface of his stretched lips. Teeth parting. He’s entering you again, his cock mirroring the violation of the alien tongue now probing yours. Still gentle, cautious. Your flavor there. Closing your lips over this new shape and texture. Still muscular, smoother, thicker until it tapers at the end, coiling around yours.

Your body is on fire, your earlier release already forgotten as you roll your hips against his. A rough groan. The hand cupping the side of your waist tightens, thumb digging into your flesh. Every time his body collides with yours, the pressure against the bite he’s inflicting sends waves of pleasure through you, your swollen cunt throbbing around his prick.

You’re whining again, a needy, pitiful sound hummed around that foreign tongue invading your mouth, curling and stroking, sharp teeth dripping saliva down onto your lips, sliding over your chin and down your neck.

Then it is Francis’ mouth hovering over yours again, his soft brown eyes gazing into yours as he sheaths and withdraws over and over, a little crooked grin of triumph, pleased he’s done it, he’s maintained control.

“My bride to be, my future wife…” The words becoming temporarily incomprehensible, his face burrowing against your neck. “Forever…eternal…I am yours…” He’s looking into your eyes as he cums, filling you with hot spurts of seed, everything in that gaze begging, pleading, that this will be the time, the future he wants to conceive inside of you coming to fruition at last.

***

You’re watching Francis Mosses’ doppelgänger in the mirror.

Hair tidy, side parted, slicked into place. Dressed in a button front shirt and slacks. Freshly shaved. You love watching him get ready. The care and attention he gives the process. Wanting everything to be proper. Perfect.

“I believe I’m ready. What do you think?” He turns to face you.

“Very dapper. I’m sure everyone will be very envious when they see you leading me inside the theater.”

“I think it will be more the other way around. Beautiful,” he murmurs, admiring your dress, your lips and nails painted to match, a deep, dark shade of red. “And what is underneath this loveliness, I wonder?” His fingers tuck beneath the neckline of your dress, trying to sneak a peak at your lingerie.

“If you start that, we’re never going to make it out the door.”

“Would that really be so terrible?”

“After, Francis,” you reprimand gently. You’re not used to rejecting him. But you think it will be good for both of you to get outside, have a date together. You want him to enjoy every element of the human experience. So much of what he knows is based on war, on violence. Sometimes you yourself get so caught up in your work you forget what it is you’re struggling so hard to protect. Not just lives, but the quality of those lives. You want the best for those residents you guard.

You want the best for your fiancé, too.

***

You’re screened at the entrance of the theater.

It’s nowhere near the level of scrutiny you provide working for the DDD; the likelihood of doppels wanting to infiltrate an old movie house was very unlikely. The bored looking attendant barely glances at your ID’s before waving you through.

“That man is terrible at his job,” your beau murmurs as you enter the theater, heading towards a pair of seats near the back row. There aren’t many people present; perhaps lured by the nice weather outdoors. Enjoying a lazy Sunday afternoon. “Maybe we should have started the invasion here.”

“Francis!” He’s not speaking loudly, but you look around hurriedly. “You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“I’m only teasing, love.” He wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss against your temple. “No one’s listening, anyway. I’m sorry. It was in poor taste,” he apologizes, seeing your persistent scowl. “Forgive me?”

You tuck your dress beneath you before taking your seat. “I’m not cross with you, I’m just worried.” You didn’t want to draw any attention. As much as you like being out in public like this with the invader, you had to keep reminding yourself that you’re still at war. He’s still seen as the enemy, and no amount of declarations of affection for you would ever convince the DDD of his innocence. It was dangerous for both of you.

“Stop worrying. You’re meant to be having fun. Relax and enjoy this,” he whispers beside your ear. “No one knows. We’re okay.”

You try to comply, willing your furrowed brow to straighten. This had been your idea, after all. He was right. No one was paying any attention to you. Everyone present was seated in front of you, all facing the curtain shrouded film screen. Your doppel’s arm curls around your shoulders and you let yourself melt against him, the tension easing. Trying to recapture some of that feeling you have when you’re together at the farmhouse, away from the city, away from prying eyes. Your own little safe haven.

At last the heavy drapes shift aside, revealing the screen beneath. The sound of murmured conversation is extinguished, the only noise the occasional rattle of a straw in a cup, fingers digging into a box of candy or bag of popcorn. You have some chocolate in your purse. You withdraw it now, thumb dragging along the paper wrapper, trying to be quiet as the film begins.

The Warner Brothers logo appears. Then there is a map overlaid with the opening credits before the focus shifts to a rotating globe. You glance at your companion. His eyes are fixed on the screen. There was the invader’s original goal, so tantalizingly out of reach, that objective shifting to a very normal life with you, pretending to be human.

You squirm a little restlessly in your seat. The copycat’s thumb strokes your shoulder. “Easy, love. It’s okay.” His breath hot by your ear. “I love you.”

The words instantly soothe you. You manage to tear the foil and extract a piece of chocolate, already starting to melt. It was warm inside the theater. You offer it to your companion, watching his features as he takes the rectangular sweet between his teeth, breaking off a section and chewing, considering. “Good. Not as good as the jam. Not as good as you, but nothing is,” he whispers, mouth pressed close to your ear again. He accepts the remainder and his tongue darts out to taste your fingers, reminding you of the previous morning, when he’d invaded you with his real one, your pussy and your mouth teased with it, the familiar warm pulse between your legs asking for more.

You struggle to return your attention to the screen, absently slotting the next piece of candy into your own mouth.

It’s different watching the film again now that you’re older, in a serious relationship. The sheer ache of the tragedy of it all. The woman thinking her husband was dead, killed trying to escape a concentration camp. Falling in love with another man. Leaving abruptly to nurse her spouse back to health after learning he’d survived. The bitter conflict of the backdrop of the world war. Meeting again. Forced to choose between both men she loved. The nightclub owner insisting she leave, promising she’d regret it if she didn’t, a famous line of dialogue that was so often quoted.

It’s impossible not to see some parallels with your own romance. Choosing between Francis and the doppelgänger. A war that encompassed the world, this one not with other nations within that globe but alien invaders. What was the greater sin, betraying your heart or betraying the human race?

You’re quiet as you leave the theater, squinting against the dazzling sun outside. Francis’ doppel offers to drive your car and you let him, staring out the passenger window, watching the brick and mortar surrender to the trees and fields you’ve been missing already.

“This melancholy concerns me.”

You turn to find the milkman’s copy staring at you, eyes darting occasionally to check the road ahead. Empty, as it so often was.

“I’m sorry. I meant to ask if you enjoyed the film.”

“I enjoyed being with you. I always do.” He focuses once more on the path, steering around a deep dip in the ground. “That’s the hole the truck struggled with,” he murmurs. You’re so accustomed to it your body runs on autopilot, maneuvering around it without even thinking. “You’re worried about us being discovered.”

You chew on your bottom lip, silently cursing yourself. “I didn’t want to ruin the experience for you.”

“You didn’t, love.” One hand leaves the steering wheel to cup your cheek.

“I don’t want to get caught. It would kill me to lose you. Absolutely destroy me. I can’t, Francis. I can’t lose you twice.”

You’re jostled as the car abruptly leaves the road, pulling into one of the fields near your house. The doppel hurriedly shifts the gears into park, cutting the engine with a rough turn of the key. He turns to you, one arm resting on the back of the bench seating. “Listen to me. You’re not going to lose me. I’m not going to let anything happen to either of us.”

“You don’t know that, though. Sooner or later someone is bound to find out.”

“Leave the DDD.”

“Francis, we’ve talked about this.”

“Leave the DDD and move in with me. Here. At the farm. Or wherever you want. Just get away from all this.”

“Francis…”

“Be with me. Please, love.” His fingers curl around the side of your neck, his lips brushing yours. “I couldn’t do it. I could never give you up like Rick did with Ilsa in the movie. You’d be safer without me, but how could I ever want that, how…”

“I love you. I’d never leave you. Never.” You kiss him, your mouth rough against his. His tongue strokes yours and the heat you’d experienced in your core earlier returns. Your fingers break through the carefully coiffed stiff strands of hair, returning them to their natural, untidy form. His fingers work on the buttons of your dress, his mouth now laving at that exposed patch of skin below your throat.

You’re so close to home, but it’s impossible to wait just those few more minutes, exiting the car, allowing your body to be pressed down into the fragrant grass. He strokes up your thigh, nudging aside the fabric draped over you, a little hum of appreciation escaping when he feels the new satin that covers you.

You’ve never owned so many pairs of lingerie, so different from the standard fare you’d worn before. You like the feel of it clinging to those intimate places, like the reaction of the doppel every time he reveals them, like unwrapping a gift, fingers shifting each piece, palming your breasts, your sex. He makes love to you under that open blue sky, in that clear air that’s just starting to turn a little cooler as the afternoon bows to evening.

Back at the house, you’re assisted in preparing dinner, steak and baked potatoes and green beans while Perry Como croons in the background.

Till the end of time

Long as stars are in the blue

Long as there's a spring, a bird to sing

I'll go on loving you

“Move in with me,” the pretender says again, drying his hands on a dish towel, then slotting his hands on your waist after you’ve finished sliding the potatoes into the oven. “I want this every night.”

Till the end of time

Long as roses bloom in May

My love for you will grow deeper

With every passing day

“After you meet my parents. Then we’ll move in together. One more week.”

Till the wells run dry

And each mountain disappears

I'll be there for you, to care for you

Through laughter and through tears

The smell of the meat sizzling in the fry pan on the stove makes your stomach growl. You’re starving. Always so ravenous, now. Working up such an appetite.

“Dance with me after dinner.”

“Yes.”

So take my heart in sweet surrender

And tenderly say that I'm

The one you love and live for

Till the end of time

After dinner, in his arms as promised, he steers you in a neat circle.

“I had a wonderful weekend with you.”

“It’s not over yet.” He kisses your neck, his hands sliding over your abdomen. “I hope…”

“I know. We’ll keep trying, love.” You want to give him a child. That fear still there. Discovery. You were never as devout as Francis had been. Would it be blasphemous to pray? To ask for help, protection, mercy for a creature that was so reviled?

He switches off the record player and the final lamp in the living room. There is now nothing but moonlight to guide you.

He settles onto the couch. You sit beside him. The ticking of the grandfather clock is loud in the sudden stillness. Your mouths collide. A different kind of hunger afflicting you now.

“You’re still hiding from me,” you chide gently, sliding a hand over one thigh, moving to the front of the fly of his pants, where the bulge fits neatly into the curve of your palm and fingers.

“About that,” he murmurs. “Partly it’s for fear of losing control.”

“You won’t,” you reassure him, sucking at his bottom lip.

“Partly because I wanted to fill you with human seed. Our best chance to make a baby.”

“And the other part?” You prompt, sensing there is still something left unsaid.

“I’m not sure if you’d like it.”

“You mean find it appealing?”

“Yes,” he admits reluctantly.

“I love every part of you.” Your hand squeezes and he sucks in his breath sharply.

“You really do, don’t you?” This said with a kind of wonder and disbelief.

“Is it really so strange? You find me attractive, and I obviously don’t look like your kind.”

“You are beyond attractive. You are gorgeous. The softness of you. That texture. The flavor…” He kisses your jaw. “I can never get enough.”

“So you can relate to that feeling of being addicted.” You’ve slowly begun to unfasten his belt, now working on the button and zipper.

“I wonder how much of that isn’t a result of the bites.”

“I think that contributes to it.”

“I didn’t know they’d have that effect.”

“It’s all new. Uncharted territory, didn’t you call it?”

He hums in agreement, the sound changing to a moan when your fingers dip beneath his briefs. “I’m tempted.”

“Do it.”

“What if you don’t like it? It would ruin things…”

“No. I want it feel it. In my hand. In my mouth. Inside of me.” He shudders against you. “I love you, my doppelgänger.”

A growl. The leash slipping. He nips at your ear lobe. “Sweetheart, if that’s what you really want, I’ll give it to you. It’s all for you…”

Heat against your hand, not the customary warmth of that reproductive organ but something else, a scalding kind of sensation. The flesh morphing, rearranging beneath your fingertips. Growing slicker. Reminiscent of his true tongue, the structure thicker at the base, narrowing at the end. Root, tentacle, something else, no word for that pulsing member you hold in the near darkness.

He’s sweating with the effort of restraining himself, tasted every time your mouth touches his, salted kisses accompanied by your hand cautiously sliding along the length, exploring, forced to stretch your arm as you caress the alien’s cock, finding the head at last not so unlike the human one, ending in a kind of domed, mushroom shaped tip. Fat, thick, it would definitely stretch you. The thought of it makes you shiver, your body drooling arousal.

“Does it feel good? I don’t know if I’m doing it right…”

“It is…” He says a word you don’t recognize, something in his native tongue. You can’t replicate it. “That’s why I didn’t tell you my name. You could never say it. Even what I just uttered isn’t quite…fuck. Right there. Oh sweet girl, you’re always so perfect for me. Sit on it, sweetheart. Let me fuck you.”

Your heart is pounding as you stand long enough to pull your dress off overhead and remove your panties, climbing over the doppel’s thighs, that foreign prick tapping impatiently against your bare stomach. His hands clutch your buttocks as you raise yourself, guiding his dick into position. Your breath saws in and out roughly. Almost panicked. But so aroused. It’s too late to stop now. You’d asked for this. You asked for this and now…oh. Inside of you. A burning stretch, like having your maidenhood taken again for the first time. A whimper escapes you. Somewhere between pleasure and pain. Blurring from one to the other. Filling you. So warm inside. You can’t possibly fit all of it in there. A sob of frustration.

“My love,” he croons soothingly. “Our bodies weren’t meant to fit together, the anatomy, you can’t…”

“I want all of it,” you say stubbornly, disappointed. Feeling like you’ve failed him somehow.

“Look at how well you’ve done, sweet girl, letting me inside…” His hand strokes over your abdomen and you mirror his movements, feeling the bulge there. “Fuck me, sweetheart. I want to make you feel good.”

Your hands grasp his shoulders as you lift yourself up, supported by his hands, some supernatural strength from the invader providing assistance. Back down again. Up and down. A rhythm building. You’re getting used to it, slowly but surely. That tender ache within you starting to evolve into something else. A coil of pleasure knots your insides.

“Tell me your name. Even if I can’t say it…to hear it…” A foreign word. “No. From your tongue. That mouth…”

“Risky, love. Can’t…” The hands holding you are shaking. “Even this is…”

“What…what is it? Tell me.” You’re properly riding his cock now, grinding yourself down as far as you’re able.

“It’s dangerous. The desire to be let out…tear free…love, it’s…I can’t stop it…”

The coil inside of you snaps, your orgasm ripping through you. There is something else, something searing hot spilling into you, the stream of it running out as he lifts your body clear of his, then cradles you against him.

“You didn’t warn me,” you chide softly when you’ve recovered, your fingers gliding curiously across the trail of slick cum streaking your thighs. “There’s so much of it.”

“Wanted it to be a surprise.”

You slap his arm playfully, then rest your forehead against his. “I told you you’d be okay.”

“Are you sore?”

“A little. It’s okay.”

“I don’t like hurting you.”

“I wanted it. I don’t regret it. I’d like to do it again sometime.”

“My love, what am I going to do with you?” He says in mock exasperation.

“Hopefully marry me.”

“Oh, that’s definitely happening. Speaking of which. We need to plan that out. The details of where and when.” He makes a little disgruntled sound. “Can we go take a bath? This is getting rather…unpleasant.”

You can’t disagree, the feeling of being so damp and sticky, the decreasing temperature and congealing nature of the ejaculate getting more and more uncomfortable to be lingering in. “Yes. Let’s go upstairs. We can plan things out while we wash up. Then it’s bed time. We both have work in the morning.”

“I love you,” he says softly. “I’m so grateful you love me. The real me. I like being called your doppelgänger,” he adds, stealing a quick kiss before you scoot off his lap, allowing him to stand. You manage to find your discarded clothing.

“Well, it’s the truth. You are mine.”

He hastily buttons the front of his pants to keep them from sliding down as he rises, reaching out to take your hand, leading you to the foot of the staircase.

“Do you have a last name?”

The doppel chuckles. “Get upstairs, you.”

“I think I’m entitled to know, seeing as how I’m going to be your wife.”

“I’ll tell you my real name. Soon.”

Another kiss in the dark, the promise of a shared secret.

[torukmaktoskxawng]

tsamsiyu ta'em- healing and closure part two

Masterlist - part fourteen

Summary: Ronal and Tonowari notice a certain dynamic between Kayla and the human boy she's keeping separated from Neytiri.

Pairing: Ronal/Tonowari/Original Female Character

Tag: #tsamsiyu ta'em fic

posted on ao3

Word Count: 10k+

Warnings: canon-compliant, mature language, slow burn, polyamory, found family, cool aunt agenda, rushed, time skips, fluff, angst, major character death, child endangerment, etc.

Taglist (bold indicates "could not tag"): @motheroffae @undeniableadrenaline @mooniequeen @shit-i-say-shit-i-think @heart-an0n @amiets2 @slutforsmut4ever @yeosxxx​ @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @sucker4angstt @inolaphoenix @ilovechickenwings @tojisleftarm @andyfromku @ivysully @lightandshadow31

A/N: So this turned out to be a very long chapter anyway 😅 but I'm glad I split it into two parts!

Without much sleep from the night before, Makayla found herself sitting outside the marui the following morning, waiting for her brother to return. Jake had woken up and noticed she was already awake but didn't comment. Instead, he shared that he was going to speak to Tonowari and Ronal as soon as it was light enough outside. He wanted to express his deepest regret and sincerest apology to the reef clan leaders for endangering their children and their people, along with the promise to move his family elsewhere so they wouldn't draw any more attention to the Metkayina. As sunlight began to sparkle and reflect off the ocean's surface, Jake kept his word and left. Kayla had been sitting outside ever since.  

Sounds of life could be heard inside the Sully marui, shuffling and quiet voices indicating that the others were slowly waking up, but Kayla didn't go back in and investigate. She remained outside, basking in whatever silence was left before the whole village awakened. Kayla listened to the quiet sounds of birds off in the distance, pinpointing small chirps from the ilu pens, and the gentle waves crashing into the sand along the beach. It was so peaceful, and for just a brief moment, Kayla allowed herself to relax.

Other Na'vi were starting to leave their homes and begin their morning chores by the time Jake came trekking down the walkways. Kayla had spotted him from a distance and quickly stood, waiting to meet him when he drew closer.

"So what happened? What did the olo'eyktan and tsahik say?"

Jake shared a small solemn gaze with her, speaking quietly so no one inside his home could hear him, "They both agree that we are Metkayina now and are allowing us to stay."

Kayla's shoulders relaxed, surprising even herself when she felt relief. Sure, she would have kept a stiff lip if she had no choice but to help her brother move his family out, but she was glad that they would get to stay. And-- a small part of her was relieved to know that Tonowari and Ronal didn't hold any ill will toward her family.

She allowed herself to take a deep breath, "So what now?"

"It's customary for a grieving family to stay secluded from the rest of the village while they mourn," Jake explained with an unnaturally soft voice, like saying it would make it real and he didn't want that, "We'll stay at home for the rest of the week and then we'll go from there. See what happens."

~~~~~~~~~

Despite being given the much-needed time to rest and be there for her family, Makayla was beginning to get a little stir-crazy.

She understood why the Na'vi believes in allowing yourself a window of grieving before returning to your normal life... but she honestly didn't feel as though she could deal with isolating oneself in their home for a whole week. Kayla was a woman of action, always on the move, never stopping. It was easy to prove herself among the Omatikaya because there was always something to do, something to keep her busy until it was time to finally force herself to rest at the end of the day. But here and now, it was nearly impossible. The Metkayina expect her and the rest of the Sullys to stay home and mourn. Maybe it was the way she was brought up in the military, but Kayla couldn't bring herself to not do... well, nothing. She needed to process death in her own way at her own time, but not like this.

A part of her envied Jake for being able to do what the Na'vi expect of him, especially when he used to be just like his sister-- always on the move. Of course, after such a long adjustment period living among the Omatikaya, he had managed to get rid of a lot of old habits, good and bad. Jake appeared relieved to be given this time to mourn, and Kayla couldn't exactly blame him. His son was taken from him, and that was a pain she knew that she could never understand. So yes, while she envied the fact Jake could stay isolated in a marui all day, she also understood her brother and how he needed time away from prying eyes so he could grieve. Neytiri and the children were no different. They did move around the home and kept themselves busy, but they never left beyond the threshold the entire week. The way they moved around each other made Kayla feel like an outsider looking in. The family moved in sync with one another, talking fluidly and like a team. She didn't have that sort of bond with them. At least, she didn't believe she did. Looking over at Spider who kept himself separate from the Sullys and sulking in the corner, Kayla could tell he more or less felt the same way.

Ao'nung, Tsireya, and Rotxo would stop by occasionally to provide the family with some food, water, and other provisions the Sullys might need during their grieving period but otherwise left them alone until they were ready to rejoin society. Apart from the reef children, Kayla and the rest of the Sullys have not seen another living face outside of each other's.

By the third day, Kayla was starting to get antsy and desperate. She needed to do something to keep her mind busy. When she finally stood up and announced she needed to visit the clan leaders, Jake was more than happy to let her go since she was driving him just as equally crazy. Off she went without any of the Sullys doing much to protest, practically running out of that marui without ever looking back. A part of her felt guilty, but at the very least, Kayla felt comfortable leaving Spider there as long as Kiri or Lo'ak would always be with him and not just Neytiri.

Once she made it to her destination, she was astonished to see both Tonowari and Ronal were home inside their marui, thinking that she might only find one or neither of them in the middle of the day. Both clan leaders were teaming up to stretch a fishing net out to try and detect any mistakes, standing far across the kelku from one another with the net stretched out between them. Making sure to make plenty of noise as she approached the home, Kayla purposely stayed right outside the entryway until both sets of eyes landed on her.

Tonowari looked pleasantly surprised to see her standing there and lifted his fingers to his forehead before lowering them toward her as a greeting, "Makayla te Suli."

Kayla does a double-take and quickly repeats the gesture, "May I come in?"

"Please," Tonowari extends his arm to direct her further into the marui, gesturing to the hearth as he and Ronal set the fishing net aside, "Sit."

"You are walking," Ronal stated the obvious as Kayla stepped inside her home, glancing down at the small limp the other woman was sporting. The tsahik held her rounded stomach in one hand and carefully sat down in the small circle her mate and Kayla had created when they also knelt down. She eyed the avatar carefully, "You should wait to do so until your foot regains full mobility."

Kayla glances down at her wrapped ankle, ears lowering in shame, "I just... wanted to thank you for allowing my family to stay here. You didn't have to, even after everything that happened, but you did."

Tonowari shakes his head and raises his hand to stop her, "Your family are Metkayina now. There's not much else they can learn, so they are free to live among us. As are you."

The avatar tilted her head, eyes widening in bafflement, "Me?"

"Yes," Ronal adds to her husband's statement, "You have learned much in your time here. You will always have a place in our village. The Way of Water gives and takes, life and death. In exchange for your loss, it has given you a home here."

Kayla's eyes fall to stare down at her lap at the reminder, staring down at her hands, "My loss..."

"Toruk Makto is your brother. His son was your nephew, was he not? You lost a nephew."

"We are very sorry for your loss."

She glances between them, a little thrown off by their sentiment. Her eyes quickly go back to staring down at her lap, "... Thank you."

Ronal must have seen something in her expression to believe that this wasn't the first time Makayla had lost someone. Despite feeling indifferent to the avatar woman, the tsahik's heart clenched painfully at the idea of someone who goes through loss just as often as one might breathe, "Is grief a friend of yours?"

She shrugged, "I'm not a stranger to it if that's what you mean."

The answer wasn't a comfort for Ronal, wincing at the thought of her own loss. She lost Ro'a at the worst time imaginable in both of their lives, ready to raise babies together. Although, there's never really a good time to lose someone you love, no matter where you are in life. Kayla didn't exactly strike Ronal as someone who had to deal with death only once before. At the mention of her nephew, Kayla only appeared to want to sink into a hole and nothing more, and it aged her face far beyond her years. "You are not with your family. Families grieve together. It usually helps."

Kayla shook her head, "I wanted to give them space. I felt like I was intruding."

"Are you not a part of their family?"

"I am." She nods, although she doesn't sound convinced herself, and the clan leaders both notice this.

Tonowari sees his mate glance over in his direction out of the corner of his eye. When he turns his head toward Ronal, she's visibly asking him a question through her eyes and he immediately understands the message she was trying to get across to him. The chieftain simply nods to her and then turns to address the Sully woman in front of him, "You are more than welcome to stay with us if you wish to grieve and live separately from Toruk Makto's family."

She pushes down the warmth that threatened to rise in her cheeks. She wasn't a teenager anymore, she could handle an adult conversation without automatically assuming any wrong intentions. Instead of assuming anything, Kayla simply shook her head, "I can't ask that of you. I'll just be keeping up space."

"Arrangements can be made for a marui of your own," Ronal quickly added as a way of further reassuring Kayla instead of scaring her off by their boldness, "You and the demon boy."

Kayla bit her tongue and chose to ignore the labeling, clearing her throat to regain her voice a little, "Thank you, but that's not necessary. I wouldn't want to burden anybody."

"You are not a burden. You are one of us now."

Yellow eyes peer up to meet the blue and green pairs already staring at her. Neither man nor woman appeared as if trying to help her was a burden, their eyes silently pleading for her to agree. She wasn't sure if they were desperate or just pitying her, and she wasn't sure which she would prefer they feel. Kayla had to admit that their offers were tempting, and the common sense in her was begging her head to see reason. The avatar briefly thought of Spider, alone among the Sullys back at the marui right now, and she thought about what could be best for him.

She swallowed as she shamefully admitted to herself that being away from Neytiri would be best for him right now, "I... I mean-- if there are any pods to spare..."

"There is. We will make the arrangements," Ronal leans over and promptly grabs Kayla's hand, stunning the avatar but unable to move underneath the stare the tsahik provided her, "For now, return to your brother and his family. Rest your foot... or I will not be pleased if I have to treat it again."

Ronal's harshness was uplifting for Kayla, a small sense of normalcy after such a daring move as to grab her hand. A part of the avatar wanted the other woman to continue acting as herself, cold and distant from strangers like Kayla... but there was a small, shameful sliver of herself that wanted the tsahik to continue holding her hand, especially after her fingers had suddenly let go.

~~~~~~~~~

Spider is quiet after Kayla informs him that the two of them will be moving into a separate marui. He doesn't appear angry or even shocked, as his eyes continuously flick over to Neytiri's direction during the whole discussion, but even Kayla felt guilty when Spider went around hugging the Sully children, softly telling them that they'll see him once their week of mourning was over. The only one who didn't comment during the whole time Kayla had packed her things was Neytiri, but while she didn't say anything, Kayla could see that she was secretly relieved to be rid of the boy. With no items or essentials to call his own, the teenager followed Kayla outside where Jake was waiting for them. Kayla's brother didn't look confident about this new living situation, but the worry could easily be chalked up to someone who didn't want his family to be too far away from him after everything they had just been through. Before parting, Jake placed a large, comforting hand on Spider's shoulder and offered him a weak smile.

"Keep her out of trouble for me, will ya?"

"Yes, sir."

The avatar and teenager make their way down the long stretches of walking paths, avoiding eye contact with any Metkayina. At least, Spider was, and he thought Kayla was doing the same since she seemed so desperate to avoid everyone when she brought him to the village the other day. However, due to Kayla walking in front of Spider, he failed to notice that anyone who was caught staring as they walked by would receive Kayla blankly staring right back long enough to the point where it would unnerve the Na'vi and force them to look away.

Spider followed Kayla toward the center of the village where there was a bigger marui waiting for them. The boy's back immediately straightens up when he sees the clan leaders of the Metkayina waiting for them just outside of the pod. Kayla approached the two with ease, not as intimated by their height and regality as Spider was. 

The tsahik spoke firmly to her, lips pursed in disapproval, "You are on your foot again."

"I promise to rest once Spider and I are settled," She dipped her head to them, pressing her fingers to her forehead before lowering it in their direction and turning back around to beckon Spider over to her side, "I don't think you three have been properly introduced. Spider, this is the olo'eyktan and the tsahik of the Metkayina. Tonowari, Ronal, this is Spider."

Spider was quick to remember his manners and greeted them with a familiar hand gesture to the rim of his mask and bowing his head, "Oel ngati kameie, Ronal. Oel ngati kameie, Tonowari."

The olo'eyktan stepped up and greeted the boy the same way. Kayla felt a small bit of tension in her shoulders begin to relax when Tonowari spoke to Spider with a benign voice, "Oel ngati kameie, Spider. Welcome to our village."

The chieftain kept his expression open and calm, being friendly but professional. He spoke to Spider as he would for other teenagers, gently but with a tone of voice that didn't talk down or belittle him. Tonowari smiles warmly, eyes darting between Spider and Kayla, "Makayla te Suli speaks highly of you, as does her nieces and nephew."

Spider's posture begins to relax at the words meant to reassure him. Kayla shares the sentiment until her eyes flick over to the woman standing behind Tonowari. Yellow eyes meet green ones and suddenly Kayla is back to being on her guard. Ronal's expression was stone, impassive, and purposely closed off from any interpretation. It wasn't a very comforting sight, especially when those green eyes moved to Spider. Being the ever-observant kid that he is, Spider's relaxing posture also stiffens under Ronal's gaze.

The tsahik must have seen how uncomfortable she was making the human boy as she turned away and expected the others to follow, "Come. We will take you to your new home."

Much like how she had to keep up with Ronal when first following her around the village, Kayla noticed how Spider was struggling to do the same. While she and Tonowari followed the tsahik in perfect stride, sprained ankle be damned, Spider was beginning to fall behind. It couldn't have been a coincidence. Kayla was beginning to wonder if this was a small test Ronal bestowed on every newcomer; to see if they were capable of keeping up with someone as busy as her. Perhaps only then would she consider them worthy of staying in her village. After noticing this, Kayla slowed her walk just enough so that Spider was always a tail length behind her, confident that even with smaller legs, he would at least keep pace with her.

On and on they walk until it feels as though they have gone through the entire village. Once Ronal began to slow down, so did Tonowari, and their destination became clear. To Kayla's surprise and approval, they chose a hut for her and Spider on the edge of the village, close to the line of trees leading into the jungle of the island, coincidentally the same route Kayla often took whenever she returned to her lonesome campsite. The hut was small and quaint, meant for a single Na'vi or a family of two. Stepping inside, it was clear that the marui hadn't been lived in for a while, but not like she was going to complain. She's lived in far worse conditions. This was a luxurious hotel compared to what she was used to back home.

"What do you think?" She asks Spider once he steps inside, "Not bad for your first official marui, right?"

He shrugs, "I tried making a kelku when I was a kid once."

"Oh? Was it better than this?"

"It was until the rain came through," he huffed out in a small laugh, "Lo'ak wouldn't let me live that down for a week. I was ten."

"Well, at least you know a bit of rain isn't taking this thing anywhere," Kayla sets down her things and pats the inside wall of the pod made of woven materials, smiling in encouragement, "And until we figure out what to do about... well, everything, think of this place as a way to get away from everyone and everything, alright?"

"Sure... but why?" Spider eyed her skeptically.

"Why not? Everyone needs their space. Especially you. This is a strange place full of strange people who haven't gotten the chance to get to know you yet. I had a campsite in the jungle for a while after coming here because I didn't like the stares," and with that, her eyes began to darken and she fixed him a look of warning, a clear hidden meaning behind her words, "I just want you to have a safe place to run to for anything while you're here, okay?"

He eyed her questionably, trying to grasp her meaning and feeling cold when he easily recognized the distrust in the woman's eyes... but it wasn't directed at him. He wasn't sure if he should feel comforted or concerned by the fact that Kayla didn't trust other Na'vi around him, "Alright... Thanks." He adds quickly as an afterthought.

Turning around, she steps back out into the world where she had left behind the Metkayina clan leaders. Ronal and Tonowari were facing away from the marui, looking out over their village and only turning back around when they heard Kayla approaching, pointedly pretending as though they hadn't overheard anything.

"What do you think? Is it to your liking?"

"It's wonderful. Thank you," Kayla, fortunately, doesn't appear suspicious, "I think we'll take a page out of my brother's book and stay low for the rest of the week, to get settled in and so on."

Ronal nodded and gave off the impression that she found this acceptable. In a way, gaining the tsahik's approval was rare for Kayla and it made her feel a little lighter, despite the circumstances.

Tonowari smiles in understanding, "I will have Tsireya bring you and the boy some food that should last you until then."

"You don't have--"

And just like that, Ronal's approval is suddenly replaced with the normal, stern expression Kayla was used to seeing on her. Within a moment, Kayla caved in and cleared her throat, "Thank you. That's very kind."

Tonowari's amusement was evident, even letting out a small exhale of a laugh while glancing between the two women after witnessing their silent exchange, "Trust me, Makayla te Suli. Just do what she says from now on and you'll forever be in her good graces."

Ronal's hand moved to rest on her husband's arm and Kayla watched as the tsahik's fingers squeezed ever so slightly, just enough for the olo'eyktan's ear to flick in his mate's direction but nothing more. Clearly, it was meant to act as a warning. Kayla recalled a phrase from back on Earth, tempted to comment "Happy wife, happy life," but she didn't think that'd be very appropriate. Instead, she remains silent and allows the clan leaders to walk away. She doesn't return to her new home until after they have disappeared.

~~~~~~~~~

She wasn't sure how long she had been asleep, and upon opening her eyes, she wasn't able to tell the time because it was still dark outside the marui. Kayla carefully moved around in her nivi until she was comfortable again, closing her eyes and hoping sleep would return to her, allowing herself to drift at the feeling of the hammock slowly rocking her. For a moment, she was met with blissful silence until a small injured sound filled the air. The sound that must have woken Kayla up in the first place. Her nose scrunched up before she opened her eyes again and lifted her head to look around, her ears twitching in all directions to locate the sound again.

Having night vision after a lifetime of having difficulty seeing in the dark was still an adjustment no matter how long she lived in this body. Once she wiped the sleep from her eyes, her sight cleared and everything became visible in the dark marui. She finds Spider's nivi immediately, on the other side of the pod, and to no one's surprise, it was where the small whimpers were coming from. Swiftly, Kayla got out of her hammock and purposely made her footsteps over to him louder than normal.

Spider easily woke up before she got to him, his heart hammering in his ears and breathing irregularly. He tried inhaling large gulps of air and once he got a good look at his surroundings, he curled in on himself and eyes Kayla in his peripheral vision.

Kayla steps up to the boy's nivi, whispering, "I'm sorry. You were having a nightmare. Figured you wouldn't want someone shaking you awake."

She was met with silence as the teen continued to focus on taking deep, calming breaths, his mask hissing in response. Kayla wished there was a way to calm him herself, and reached a hand out to do so, "Can I--"

Spider immediately retracts, skittish and determined to avoid her touch, avoiding eye contact. It would seem her instinct not to shake him awake was right and Kayla instantly pulled back her hand, ashamed, "Okay. I'm sorry, kiddo. Listen... whatever it is... or whatever it was, I promise I won't ask until you're ready to talk about it. But you're safe now. It won't happen again."

The same doubt from before returned to his face, and Kayla could only wish there was a way to get him to believe her.

~~~~~~~~~

Spider was less quiet than he had been as of late, but still more reserved than the boy she met when Jake first brought her to High Camp. That, and along with his nightmares, the female avatar was trying to pay closer attention to Spider to see if she could detect and hopefully help with whatever demons he had. From what she could tell so far, Spider bore the same symptoms as any old soldier in the military back home so it wasn't hard for Kayla to figure out what he'd need, but it was going to be a long, slow process. First, she needed the kid to trust her. Jake wasn't far off when he commented that Spider was like a stray cat once upon a time. In an attempt to earn his trust, Kayla was patient and made sure she included him in everything. If he accepted whatever she offered, she'd internally consider that a win.

The idea came from watching Tsireya interact with Spider. An unlikely duo, but Kayla could already see a blooming friendship between the two kind souls. The reef girl came to visit and bring Kayla and Spider some food as her parents promised, and even though she could've easily handed Kayla the basket and gone home, she didn't. Instead, she personally handed Spider the basket, gifting him a small, shy smile and a wave as if she was trying to be friendly but waiting to see if the human boy would respond positively to it. At first, Spider looked surprised that another Na'vi outside of the Sullys was even talking to him, then he looked skeptical, watching her closely and wondering if the reef girl had a motive behind her kind behavior. Then, as if remembering the trauma the two of them had been through together during the battle with the Sky People, Spider began to gently smile back and nodded in gratitude. Tsireya beamed as though she had won the lottery, at least, that's what Kayla would describe it. She highly doubts anyone on this island outside of Jake would know what a lottery was.

After Tsireya had gone home, Kayla formed a strategy in her head, a method as a means of getting Spider to trust her. Watching the chief's daughter cautiously approach Spider reminded Kayla of Jake's stray cat comment, and then she recalled what to do to gain a stray cat's trust. She gave Spider his space, she let him talk whenever he felt like and didn't force him otherwise. If he wanted to be alone, she happily gave him space and never tried to pry any time he woke from his nightmares. Even now, when she had asked him to help her properly weave an armband, she sat back and let Spider go through the familiar motions of creating such an intricate piece, sitting in silence and hoping she was creating a peaceful, comfortable space for him.

After the week of mourning was up, the Sullys began to move back out among the Metkayina again, now officially as part of the clan. One of the first things Jake and his kids decided to do once they felt well enough to leave their home was to walk through the village and visit Kayla's new hut to see how she and Spider were settling into their new surroundings. Tsireya had given Lo'ak directions on how to find the hut, and not before long, they had arrived.

Kayla was sitting just outside her marui and was intently watching the object in Spider's hands as he instructed her on how to properly weave an armband. Her ears twitched at the sound of footsteps approaching and when she looked up, her smile widened into pure glee at the sight of her nieces and nephew running over to them.

Standing up to meet the children, she held her arms out wide, "Welcome to our humble abode!"

The Sully kids quickly tackle Kayla and Spider, excited to see what their aunt's new kelku looks like. Even Spider smiled at their antics. Although it was faint, his fondness was still evident. Immediately, Lo'ak and Tuk drag Spider inside while Kiri calmly follows.

Jake steps up to the pod and lowly whistles, "Nice digs."

"Thanks," Kayla snorts while looking up at the kelku behind her, "I wasn't expecting much but this was... very generous."

"Hey. Don't sell yourself short. They know a hard worker when they see one," he pats his sister's arm until she swatted at him. It didn't bear any heat behind it, just playful sibling antics and it earned her a small chuckle out of him, "Listen-- I was wondering if you and Spider could do me a favor."

"Uh oh."

"Don't give me that. I'm thinking about taking Neytiri flying one of these nights. Once I figure it out, could I leave the kids here?"

"Of course. Just--" she fixes him a concerned look, "You guys aren't going over open water, right?"

"No, nothing like that," he waves her off while looking at the vast line of trees that welcomed him not far off from Kayla's marui, "Just around. Maybe see what that jungle has in store."

She nods with approval, "I found a waterfall while I was exploring in there once. There's a cave behind it with glowing algae."

"Really?"

"I would tell you where to find it..." Her smile slowly spread into a smirk, "But I don't exactly want you and Neytiri sullying such a pretty spot."

"You're no fun."

~~~~~~~~~

For nearly all week, Ronal and Tonowari have been debating with one another on what to do.

They had closely watched the way Kayla protected Spider and kept him close to either the Sully children or herself whenever they were out in public. The human child had never been seen wandering the village alone and perhaps that was for the better, for his safety and the Metkayina's peace of mind. The Sully children, especially Kiri and Lo'ak, clung to him like a baby would to its mother, terrified of being parted. After Tsireya came back home the day she brought Kayla and Spider food, she talked softly and sweetly about Spider, and how he seemed shy but kind. Both of her parents silently agreed with her. Their first real interaction with Spider was much of the same, with the boy showing his respective manners and keeping to himself. He hardly looked threatening, wearing that loincloth and songcord that not even Kayla was proud enough to wear. Her words continued to ring in Ronal's ears and the tsahik had no choice but to agree with her previous statement. 

Spider clearly looked as though he belonged among Na'vi. He appeared more accustomed than even Jake and Kayla combined. He was more Na'vi than the dreamwalkers that live among the Omatikaya, despite being small and pink.

He even bore painted blue stripes, making Spider more Na'vi than any Sky Person who claims to love and respect the People, and that thought only troubled Ronal more. She could see the same conflicted emotions on Tonowari's face as well, a strong olo'eyktan who had a difficult decision to make. Both clan leaders had discussed it in great detail. Over the months, they realized why teaching Kayla their ways didn't feel like a hardship, and why they often sought her out even when they didn't need help. They had talked adamantly to one another, as leaders and as mates, what this meant for them and their families. At first, neither of them wanted to say anything, let alone to each other, in case this feeling wasn't mutual. When they finally came to the conclusion that they both felt the same, Ronal and Tonowari agreed that they couldn't ignore this conflicting emotion. They needed to act on it... but as a team.

Even they had to admit that accepting the Sullys as part of the clan wasn't without a hidden motive. Yes, Toruk Makto's son lies with their ancestors now and after everything the Sully family has been through, they deserved a home and a place among the Metkayina. But neither Ronal nor Tonowari could ignore that the real, hidden reason behind allowing the Sullys to stay stemmed from the desire of wishing for Makayla te Suli to stay.

It was late into the afternoon one day when Tsireya and Ao'nung informed their parents that they were going to go see the Sully children. The clan leaders were more than happy to see them off if only to talk among themselves. They had much to discuss.

Both clan leaders talked well into the evening, sharing their thoughts and feelings on the matter. They didn't feel the need to share tsaheylu when they were already so open and honest with one another. They both have come to the agreement that if they truly wanted Kayla to become Metkayina... and get to know her more than just someone who intends to live among their people, then they would have to accept Spider as well.

The tsahik and olo'eyktan had talked for a considerable amount of hours, and when it was time for their children to return, they decided to drop the subject in exchange for searching for their offspring. Their first instinct was to go to the Sully marui only to find that no one was home. Neither Ronal nor Tonowari thought anything of it, chalking the missing children up to mean that they had gone into the jungle to explore. It wouldn't be the first time Tsireya or Rotxo wanted to show the Sully children something from their island, and Ao'nung is usually along for the ride.

Tonowari and Ronal return home and wait. When their children finally returned, Ronal was quick to interrogate them,

"Tsireya, Ao'nung. Where were you this evening?"

The girl tilted her head at her parents, confused but answering the question nonetheless, "With the Sullys, sa'nok."

Ao'nung scoffed, "Like we said."

Tonowari cleared his throat and eyed his son down for the back-talk, further explaining what his wife was trying to relay to their children, "You were not at their marui."

Realization dawned on Tsireya as she finally understood why her parents were worried and immediately explained, "We were at Makayla te Suli's. She was watching the children while their parents were away."

"Away?" Ronal echoed the word, "Where did they go?"

"Something called a 'date night?'"

~~~~~~~~~

"What is a date night?"

Kayla peered up from sharpening her knife, eyes wide like she was a deer caught in headlights, "Huh?"

Not her most intellectual response, but no one could blame her when the tsahik of the Metkayina was asking her a question that threw her for a loop. Ronal raises an eyebrow at her reply, stagnant and waiting almost impatiently for an answer. When Kayla was still too stunned to reply, Ronal huffs slightly and specifies,

"My daughter spoke of Jakesully and his mate going on a date night while you watched their children."

"Oh. That," Kayla shrugged while returning back to her work, "It's basically just time with each other without any of the kids bothering them."

"Do they not think their children are old enough to look after themselves?"

A subtle cloud shifts in Kayla's gaze, darkening her features as her mind begins to drift away, "Past events point to no. Those kids are trouble magnets, and to be honest, after everything they've been through, I wouldn't want them to have the responsibility of looking after each other. I want them to be kids just a little bit longer. They've earned it."

Ronal nodded although Kayla wasn't looking. The avatar was busying herself with testing the sharpness of her knife before digging it into a hunk of driftwood she had fetched from the pocket of her shorts. The tsahik watched her oddly for a time, only speaking up again when Kayla was starting to get frustrated with the item in her hands, "What are you doing?"

"Trying to carve this stupid--" Kayla quickly paused and cleared her throat, "This ridiculous little thing for my songcord."

"Do you have a waytelem?"

Kayla detected the genuine surprise in her voice and chose to indulge her, "A small one." 

She digs a hand into one of the pockets of her shorts and pulls her interpretation of a songcord out, letting it go so it dangled from the belt loop she had tied the unfinished end through.

Ronal stared oddly at the item, "It is the size of a child's."

The avatar woman's ears lower to express her embarrassment, "Technically, I haven't finished my Rite of Passage with the Omatikaya so I'm still considered a child. The tsahik of the Omatikaya helped me get it started, but I don't really know what could be considered significant enough to add onto it."

"What is that?" One turquoise finger points to the object woven into the very end of Kayla's songcord.

"A compass. The Sky People use it to navigate. I use it to signify my past life as a marine--" she further explained when Ronal glanced back up at her with the question in her eyes, "Uh, a warrior."

"And this?" The reef woman steps closer and Kayla's skin begins to prickle in the close vicinity she and Ronal now shared. The tsahik had boldly stood directly in front of the vrrtep she once felt indifference to, or maybe she wasn't being bold but lacked personal space. Either way, Kayla was now very much aware of the heat radiating off the other woman's body, brushing the hairs on the avatar's skin. When she finally managed to register Ronal's question, she glanced down to see what else the tsahik was pointing at on her songcord. 

Kayla swallowed the dryness in her throat as she answered, "A piece of gear from my brother Tommy's wristwatch. It's a... it's a device we use to tell the time of day and night."

Ronal doesn't miss the way Kayla's voice appeared to tighten when she echoed a strange name that only the Sky People would name a child and decided not to acknowledge it. Instead, she focuses on the piece of driftwood in Kayla's hand that she was trying to whittle for the waytelem.

"And what is that meant to represent?"

Kayla's eyes don't meet Ronal's as her fingers protectively wrap around the small item, muttering under her breath, "Neteyam."

Water lapping along the beach and children's laughter in the distance fills whatever silence settles between the two women. Ronal pointedly keeps her head bowed out of respect at the very mention of the young life lost to the sea, while also doing her best to respect Kayla's privacy. Internally, the alien woman was thankful for this, thankful that out of all of the things Ronal tended to pry on, this wasn't one of them. Kayla takes a moment to compose herself, inhaling a deep breath of air through her stomach, all the while staring down at the driftwood she now gently grazed with her thumb. She doesn't linger for long after that, exhaling quickly and rolling her shoulders to indicate her small moment of sadness had passed, faintly smiling up at the tsahik beside her, 

"I'm trying to make a bead out of it. But cutting and smoothing it down is tougher than it looks."

Ronal straightened her own posture and quickly moved onto the topic Kayla was using as a distraction without any other thoughts, "I will help with your songcord."

"You don't have--" Quickly, she corrects herself when Ronal raises one eyebrow in defiance. Kayla simply nods, "Thank you."

Without another word of acknowledgment, Ronal bends down and fiddles with her skirt. Kayla watches curiously as the reef woman swiftly clips off a shell from her clothing without ripping the delicate, beautiful handiwork. The shell looked so tiny in the palm of Ronal's hand as she held it out to Makayla as an offering, her face impassive when Kayla glanced up for permission or reassurance. Ronal only nods once, "To resemble your acceptance into our clan."

Shock dawns over Kayla's reaction until it melts into something gentle; something sweet. Ronal forces the muscles in her face to remain expressionless as gratitude radiates off Kayla's growing smile. The avatar silently takes the shell from her, and together they kneel to the ground and get to work on perfecting Kayla's songcord, Ronal keeping an eye on the way Kayla shifted her weight around on her foot, but otherwise remaining silent. Kayla no longer had a bandage around her ankle, and she appeared not to notice any pain, so the tsahik internally deduced that the avatar was on the mend and left it at that.

 For the most part, they worked in silence until Ronal would voice her opinion or instruction on how Kayla should weave the pieces together. Using the tsahik and the advice Spider had given her earlier, the Sully woman managed to perfect the wooden bead and incorporate it into the waytelem before moving on to the shell.

As she worked, she stubbornly ignored Ronal's eyes practically branding onto her skin, making themselves at home there and never once diverting their attention elsewhere. Kayla's skin prickled under the other woman's gaze, and her stomach flipped whenever her eyes glanced up and met hers. It was hard to describe how she felt about the unwavering stare Ronal must have mastered over the years, and even harder to describe how she felt with those eyes on her. Kayla knows how it feels when she's uncomfortable or intimidated... but this wasn't it. She didn't feel either of those things around Ronal, at least not anymore, so whatever she was feeling, it wasn't bad. It only bothered her that she couldn't properly explain it, not even to herself.

Once Kayla was tightening the last bit of thread around the shell and securing it into her songcord, Ronal hummed in approval, straightening her aching back when it was getting too irritated from hovering over the alien woman as she worked. Kayla looked up, beaming under the tsahik's approval before handing the waytelem over to her.

The only evidence to prove Ronal was shocked by this behavior was the small rise of her brow ridge and quick twitch in her ears. The tsahik eyed Kayla carefully with the new item in hand, looking to see if there was any distrust or plan behind this exchange. Kayla only kept still and stared back, her eyes glancing down at the songcord she had given Ronal before flicking back up to meet hers, motioning for the tsahik to inspect the item more closely. Ronal hesitantly looked away as her thumb grazed over the songcord, feeling each bead, each thread, and even the odd, alien-made objects Kayla insisted on adding. The grooves on the object Kayla had called a gear were strange but interesting. Ronal found herself continuously running her thumb over it, just to feel the divets and smoothness of the small piece of metal. 

"Have you created a song to go with it?" She asked without looking up from the songcord.

"It's a work in progress. I can easily list off each bead and milestone like a story... but turning it into lyrics is difficult for me. I don't sing let alone make my own songs."

Ronal nodded and finally handed the songcord back to its owner, her stomach warm from having the honor to hold and touch the other woman's life story quite literally in her own hands. Perhaps the gesture was what pushed her boldness forward once more, opening her mouth before she could think, "Tonowari and I have been discussing and we want to offer you some peace of mind."

Kayla's eyebrows furrow, "Oh?"

"Yes. Tonight. At eclipse. We will take you to Ranteng Utralti ourselves."

"The Spirit Tree?" Kayla repeated with a small burst of suspicion, tilting her head, "... Why?"

Ronal thinks back to that tragic day when she watched the Sully family bury their child, brother, and nephew. She recalled the concern she felt when she watched Jakesully and his mate dive into the water to connect to the Spirit Tree, but Kayla hadn't followed. She remained behind with Spider and Kiri, and while Ronal didn't have the means to help the human boy and Sully girl connect with Eywa to see their departed brother and friend, Ronal hoped she could still provide Makayla some form of closure, 

"You deserve the same respect as any member of your nephew's family does. You have the right to see him one last time."

~~~~~~~~~

After accepting Ronal's invitation, Kayla first went looking for Kiri, Lo'ak, and Spider. She easily spotted the three teenagers kneeling just on the edge of a rock edge, the water of the lagoon gently rising and falling beneath them as the tide came in, brushing over the rock now padded with soft, comfortable algae. As Kayla approached, she could faintly hear Lo'ak's voice over the wind, and while she couldn't make out any full sentences, she was able to understand enough to know that he was likely teaching Spider a few simple lessons about some of the aquatic life around the reef. As long as Spider was safe behind his breathing mask, he didn't need to learn how to hold his breath underwater, so Kiri and Lo'ak felt more determined to teach their friend everything else they had learned while living among the Metkayina. Already, Spider was showing signs of adapting to this new life, and it wasn't much of a surprise. Spider was clearly a good listener, intent on grasping on to any new information that fascinated him. It was an even sweeter lesson to have his best friends be his teachers so they could make up for lost time.

As Kayla drew closer, she raised her voice enough to call out to the three children, "Kiri."

All three heads perked up at her voice but only Kiri responded when Kayla had motioned her to come closer. Kiri broke away from Lo'ak and Spider, the boys' attention falling back to the water while the teenage girl approached her aunt, "Yes, Auntie?"

Kayla shyly smiled down at her, "Could you and Lo'ak do me a favor and stay with Spider in my pod tonight?"

Excitement beamed from Kiri's smile, "It sounds like fun. But where will you be?" The excitement suddenly dropped and sadness took its place, her ears lowering into her nest of wild hair, "You're not leaving yet, are you?"

Kayla paused to choose her next words carefully. She didn't want to lie to the girl, but she also didn't want Kiri to know she was going to the Spirit Tree, knowing that it would make her sad or possibly jealous-- if the teenager even felt such an emotion. She shook her head, "No, not yet. The tsahik and olo'eyktan wish to show me something."

Even Kayla could admit that it wasn't the smartest or most eloquent choice of words, and her embarrassment only grew when a small, mischievous smile dawned on Kiri's face, "Are you having a date night, too?"

"That is NOT what I said."

~~~~~~~~~

Nervous flutters began to turn in her stomach when Kayla walked down the beach that night to find Tonowari and Ronal already there, waiting for her. The beach was quiet apart from the glowing waves gently crashing into the sand, kissing the legs of the clan leaders as they stood knee-deep in the water. Kayla took a deep breath and stepped into the ocean, letting the water rise up to her as she sunk in deeper. The anticipation and dread of going to the Spirit Tree drove Kayla to pick at her nails until she had an ilu beneath her, and then she was able to distract herself by hanging on.  

The tsahik and olo'eyktan lead the way upon their separate ilu, and Kayla makes sure not to fall behind. The journey was quicker than she remembered on the day they said goodbye to Neteyam, but she chalked it up to being a horrible day overall. By the time she wrapped her head around the fact that she would actually get to see Neteyam again, the three adults had already arrived at the Cove of the Ancestors, and then a small bit of fear began to fester and squeeze Kayla's heart.

Ronal and Tonowari slip off their ilu, so Kayla follows suit, slowly swimming just at the surface of the ocean, her head above water, and treading over to the Metkayina pair. Looking down, she can see her slow, kicking feet, morphed from the water and keeping her upright. Beneath her feet, however, was the beautiful, swaying, bioluminescent Spirit Tree. Ranteng Utralti.

Ronal swims up to Kayla as the avatar woman marvels at the sight below her, "Remember. Once you are connected, you will not have to worry about holding your breath. The Spirit Tree provides air as you connect with our ancestors."

"The connection can sometimes feel intense or shocking once you break away, causing you to forget the need to hold your breath," Tonowari nodded with encouragement, gently urging her forward with just his eyes, "We will watch over you if that happens."

Kayla looks between the two and nods, taking a moment to collect herself and suck in a large gulp of air before vanishing beneath the water. As she dives down to the Spirit Tree, she begins to get nervous, her heart wanting to leap up into her throat. A small bit of comfort washed over her, knowing that Ronal and Tonowari kept a vigil watch from above while she connected to a tendril of the tree. Taking her kuru braid and connecting the tswin to the nearest branch held out to her, Kayla relaxed and closed her eyes.

The moment she opened them again, she found herself sitting on the floor of High Camp, miles away from the Cove and from the Metkayina village. Confusion wrapped around her brain as she looked around, wondering what she was doing there. She was alone, watching everyone, both human and Na'vi, go about their day as normal, the cold floor of the cave bleeding into her legs. She heard shuffling just beyond her vision, and when she turned her head to look directly in front of her, the breath in her stomach clenched and burned upon the sight she found.

It was Neteyam, young and as strong as ever. The beads in his hair softly clinked together when his head moved, his cummerbund snug around his torso, and above all else... not a speck of blood on him. He sat cross-legged as she did, across from her, smiling with encouragement. He was in the middle of talking when Kayla had finally begun to focus on his voice, 

"--Now, let's try a K word. Kewong."

For a moment, words had escaped her, Kayla's brain still having trouble trying to comprehend her dead nephew sitting right in front of her. When she replayed his words in her head, she realized why they sounded familiar. This was a memory, one of the first ones she shared with Neteyam when she arrived in Pandora. She remembered that he took time out of his day to mentor her one-on-one, teaching her how to speak Na'vi.

Without another thought, she responded the same way she did back then, "Ketwong."

"Mm, try again. Ketuwong." He repeats.

"Ketuwong."

"No. Listen closely. Ke-"

"Ke-"

"Wong-"

"Wong-!" Kayla stammered as she noticed something, "Wait, no, you definitely said ketuwong before."

"I did no such thing, Auntie. I said kewong."

"Kewong."

"No. Ketuwong."

She snarls, with little to no heat, "Kid, I am five seconds away from pulling your tail out of its joint socket--"

He laughed, loud and genuine, one of his hands clutching his side while using the other to wave off her frustration. Eventually, he calmed down enough to speak, "Alright, alright. You are right. I was saying both to tease you. But they both mean the same thing."

"Oh." She paused, then tilted her head, "Why do you have two words that mean the same thing?"

"I could say the same thing about your language," Neteyam smirked. Kayla stopped and took a moment to find a rebuttal, but couldn't, then made a touché motion with her shoulders. Neteyam continued to explain, "I believe Norm calls them adjectives and nouns."

"Oh."

"Yes. Ketuwong is the noun and kewong is the adjective."

"What do they mean?"

"'Alien.'"

Kayla stiffened, "Oh."

Something shifts in Neteyam's features, something Kayla hadn't noticed the first time she lived through this moment. He watched her closely, carefully, before moving on with the lesson as if trying to distract her. Perhaps she first mistook the expression for pity, but now, after getting to know her oldest nephew, Kayla could see that Neteyam felt compassion and sympathy, understanding that his aunt struggled with feeling indifferent to him and the people around him. 

"Let's move on. I'll say a phrase you'll likely hear in passing. 'Ma sempul tsmuke.'"

"I recognize sempul. That's 'father', right?" She mimicked the tone of voice she made back then, fully immersed in the memory now. 

"Yes. What I said can be translated to 'my father's sister.' We don't have a word for 'aunt' so that's how we would properly address or introduce you."

She shrugged while her eyes focused down at her fingers, much different from Neteyam's hand, "You could technically say 'ma sempul kewong tsmuke.'"

"'My father's alien sister?'" He translated, testing the words on his tongue before shaking his head, allowing his braids to spill over his shoulders, "That is a lot to say, and it wouldn't be truthful."

"Wouldn't it?"

"No, because you are a Suli," he firmly states with an encouraging smile, "You look different, but we share the same blood. You're no less of an alien than the rest of us. Besides, at the rate you are learning, you will be Omatikaya sooner than later, and then you will truly be one of us. You'll be less of an alien by then. The point is, how can you be alien when you are family?"

Warmth blooms in Kayla's chest, remembering this moment as the moment she first began to See her nephew and grow fond of her brother's children, whom she had once felt so estranged to. It was odd looking back and thinking how she ever felt alien to them in the first place. There were times when she had forgotten that she hadn't known these children their whole lives, but sometimes it felt like she had. 

"You're wiser than you let on, did you know that?" She smiled.

"And what is the Na'vi word for 'wise', Auntie?"

"Hafyonga'."

"Good." He nods in approval, smiling back, "You are wise, too."

She hesitates, not wanting to break the script, but also wishing to say the things she wished she had said when Neteyam was still alive. This was the moment she dreaded when she realized Ronal and Tonowari wanted to bring her here, knowing she needed to do this to say goodbye. 

When she opened her mouth again, the words that came out were not the ones she originally said in the memory, "... I wish there was a word for 'nephew.'"

"Why?" He tilts his head with curiosity, unaware of the change in memory and script.

"So I can say 'I love you, nephew' in Na'vi."

"Do not worry," he comforts gently, "We'll find a way. We have a lot of time to figure it out."

Even if he didn't know it, his words were such a dreadful reminder of all the time they had lost. Kayla's heart was beginning to break, tears welling up in her eyes and cutting through her cheeks, the walls she had built to keep her grief out finally caving in. Her voice remained strong, however, forcing herself to speak clear sentences to make sure her nephew heard them,

"I wish we did, 'Teyam. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you."

"Auntie?"

"Nga yawne lu oer."

She pulls away from the memory, away from Neteyam, afraid that if she reached out to hug him, it wouldn't be the same as if he were actually alive. She couldn't put herself through that pain, knowing her brother and Neytiri would have to feel it every day for the rest of their lives. Neteyam's face vanishes, as does High Camp and the people around them. Everything shrinks until it becomes one tunnel of light, and then Kayla is back to reality, struggling for air as her tswin disconnects from the Spirit Tree.

Immediately, she panics, disoriented and trying to figure out where she is and why she can't breathe. Two arms, both ranging in different lengths and sizes, appear in her blurry vision, reaching to grab both of her own and drag her up through the water. Faintly, Kayla realized she was being led back up to the surface, and the thought of air being just out of reach made her lungs burn. Looking up, she faintly made out the shapes that were Tonowari and Ronal, and just as her head broke through the surface, she remembered where she was and who she was with, but it hardly mattered.

When she broke the surface, Kayla found herself uncontrollably sobbing, quickly reminding herself to kick and move her arms and legs to swim by herself, but otherwise kept sobbing. 

Her two companions immediately swam close to inspect her, but she couldn't find it within herself to care. Both of the clan leaders were in shock by the state of the avatar woman. She was crying, tears running down her already wet cheeks, the ocean rising to gently caress her chin in comfort as she kept herself afloat just above the surface. Ronal and Tonowari watch her with concern, letting her weep as the grief finally bled out. The three stayed that way for a while, keeping themselves afloat above water, close in a circle with no sounds other than the ocean and Kayla's cries. As her sobs slowed to a stop, Kayla finally blinked and began looking around, occasionally sniffling as her bright pink-rimmed eyes scanned her surroundings. Her eyebrow hairs furrowed together, wrinkling her forehead, bottom lip trembling from the waves of emotion that just washed through her. 

Tonowari noted in the back of his mind how young and innocent she looked like this... and yet she still looked as hard-ridden and stonewalled as ever. Simply put, Kayla looked miserable. She looked like someone who had seen war, death, and disease and her heart had been hardened by it. She looked like someone who kept her emotions close and private until it had suddenly become unbearable, the volcano erupting and bearing down everything she had kept bottled up inside. Tonowari spared a moment to glance over at Ronal, to which she did the same and he could clearly see through her eyes that his mate was thinking the same thing. 

Once Kayla managed to catch her breath, she croaked to the clan leaders swimming in front of her, "Thank you."

Tonowari felt one of his hands twitch when the idea to reach out to Kayla struck him, but immediately stamped down the thought in exchange for equally comforting words, "Did it help?"

"I-- I think so." She stammered, reaching her hands up to wipe away the grief from her closed eyes, exhaling loudly when the cool water brought a bit of relief to her hot, puffy face.

They swim to the nearest surface to allow Kayla to rest and get a hold of herself, finding a small hill of rock and grass that had not yet evolved into one of the floating mountains hovering above their heads. Kayla looked younger once more with the way she curled her knees up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs as her eyes watched the water beneath her, distracted and far away in her head.

"They don't have that back home," she finally said, drawing her companions to look up and patiently wait for her to continue, "On Earth... there's no way for the Sky People to reach out to our loved ones after they're gone. They're just... gone. Forever. I wanted to treat Neteyam the same way. It's just what I'm used to. I thought if I treated Neteyam as though I was never going to see him again as someone would back on Earth, it would hurt less."

Ronal's nose scrunched up, confused and affronted by the idea of life in another world, "How do you learn your history if you can not speak with your ancestors?"

"You guys record history through songcords, all the good and bad. You say nothing but the truth without leaving anything out so that the Na'vi can learn from past mistakes."

Something shifts in her eyes then, the way Kayla's glare practically burns through a spot in the water as if she was trying to evaporate it to teach the ocean a lesson. Her words are full of distaste, "The Sky People write down their history, but... sometimes, they don't write it down truthfully. The Sky People lie and sometimes purposefully erase our history, so they can just continue to form our world the way they want it and just repeat our mistakes all over again. Eventually, children stopped learning about our history in school.... and now we learn nothing except how to become one mind and machine. The Sky People don't want us to think for ourselves anymore. It makes us more compliant."

"That is horrible," Ronal hisses in horror and revulsion, "A horrible way to live."

Kayla simply scoffs, resigned to it all, "Sky People don't know how to live. They just know how to manage."

Tonowari's frown went unnoticed by the two women during their conversation, so he didn't feel the need to hide it, especially when he was in agreeance with his mate. He also felt pity for Kayla, thinking about the world she grew up in without any means of contacting your loved ones from beyond the grave. It made him wonder just how many people Kayla and Jakesully lost that they will never be able to speak to again, "Do you have anyone from your home world you wish you could talk to beyond the grave?"

Kayla didn't even appear to think about it, her hand traveling down to her songcord and gently fondling the gear she had woven into it, "Tommy. My other brother. Jake's twin." 

"I wasn't aware Jakesully had a twin brother." Tonowari comments.

"He died long before Jake ever came here with the Sky People. I wish... if Tommy had to die, I wish he had gone to Eywa so that I could talk to him."

Ronal leans forward and places a hand on the other woman's shoulder, "We believe that we are all born twice."

"Yeah, I know. It just wouldn't be the same." 

The comment hangs heavy with the clan leaders, struck by Kayla's words as if she had slapped them, but they didn't appear offended. They looked at her as if they were seeing something new and astonishing for the first time like someone had just told them a new story. Looking at one another, both Ronal and Tonowari realize they are both thinking the same thing. The way Kayla thinks and looks at their way of life is a way they hadn't thought of before.

Kayla didn't appear to notice the crisis going through her clan leaders' minds as she suddenly registered Ronal's hand on her shoulder. Gently brushing the tsahik off, Kayla gets up and looks to the ocean, clearly indicating the end of one conversation and the start of departure, "Thank you for this. Truly. You didn't have to, but you did."

Tonowari breaks from Ronal's gaze and nods, "We wanted to."

"We want you to feel at home here." Ronal quickly adds to her husband's sentiment.

Kayla tilts her head and squints her eyes back down at the other woman, suspicious again, "Even though I--"

"You are not of the Sky People anymore. Even if you looked like them, you think differently."

"I do look like them. I'm a dreamwalker," the avatar reminds them, "When I go to sleep and cut off my connection, I'm taken back to the body I was born in. My 'demon' body."

"And when you are back in that body, do you suddenly think differently?" Ronal asked.

"Well-- no." Kayla backtracked a little, humming when a thought crossed her mind, "Although, I do think about how hungry I am as a human compared to a Na'vi."

She smiles to herself, proud when she gets Tonowari to laugh and Ronal to pull a small smile. The tsahik continues once more, "Then you are still not of the Sky People. You may have different bodies. But you have the same heart and mind." 

Kayla wanted to scoff and ask the tsahik and olo'eyktan if they wanted to tell Neytiri that in defense of Spider, but she thought wisely against it and bit her tongue, only smiling and nodding at the pair in gratitude.

Tonowari stood up next, extending an arm out to the ocean, "Let us accompany you home."

Kayla accepts and assists Tonowari with helping Ronal stand up, and then the three return to the ocean. Once on her ilu and swimming away, Kayla only spared one glance back at the Cove, refraining from waving as she parted from the Spirit Tree and from Neteyam. Looking ahead once more, she felt lighter for the first time in what felt like weeks, less worried about what the future holds, and more willing to just go where the current takes her.

A/N: Okay, so here's the deal. I preordered Frontiers of Pandora and I have it, but I haven't been able to play it in between holiday gatherings, events, and two jobs. So I thought I'd quickly update this fic and use it as an announcement. I plan on taking a short hiatus so I can play to my heart's content along with Baldur's Gate 3 since that is a game I use to connect and hang out with my friends and I'd like to hang out with them for the holidays. I hope to have more free time after the new year starts.

In the meantime, feel free to continue asking non-spoiler questions about the fic and I will be more than happy to answer!

Please keep checking my pinned post for updates/announcements and dm/inbox me for taglist or requests!

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slipping between future and past [SAS secret santa 2023]

View the full SAS Secret Santa 2023 Masterlist here! See my full list of works here!

Summary: You give your friend a few pointers on what to know about Yule, and come across a familiar looking stranger in your bookstore.

Pairing: Loki x Reader/OC Talia Williams

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: 18+ | smut (minors & pearl clutchers, please leave I'm asking nicely); unprotected p in v sex; cunnilingus; magical restraints; language; possibly wonky interpretation of time travel & timeslipping; possibly wonky understanding of Yule [let me know if i missed anything!]

Things to be aware of: established relationship; still written in 2nd Person POV like my other 'x Reader' stories, but this time Reader has a name and it's "Talia Williams"; this is a secret santa request for @acidcasualties

Dick-tionary: smut starts at "the feel of your hands being brought" and ends at "as he marked your skin"

It was uncharacteristically slow today in the bookstore, barely a handful of people walking in, browsing for a few minutes, and then promptly exiting when they see that you didn't carry the middle school dystopia book series all the kids were raving over. It was a colossal waste of their time and yours, considering there would have been less effort had they just taken even a cursory look at the sign by the door.

You didn't carry children's books. Classics, Myths, and Romance only.

Of the number of people that walked through the doors that you could count on your two hands, you could only count those that actually made a purchase with one. Half of one.

The sound of the door chimes brought your attention to the entrance again, seeing your friend Ariadne bounding into the front area of the store with a frantic look in her eye. "Talia," she panted, headed straight for you. "Babes, I need your help. Are you busy? You got a customer back there?"

"Nope. Just me," you called out, stepping out from behind the counter. "What's wrong? What do you need?"

"Okay so…you know that guy I'm seeing?"

"Uhh…I think so? Lee, right?"

"Leif. Think trees, Babes. Anyways, he wants me to meet his family and apparently they're super into the ancient Norse traditions, so I need a crash course on how they celebrate Christmas." She paced back and forth by the table that held the New York Times bestsellers that you did hold stock for, picking up a copy of the stalker dark romance duology. "His sister likes to read, you think she'll appreciate this?"

You immediately rushed over to her, grabbing the book and nearly slamming it back down on the stack. "You gotta let them crawl before they walk. Let alone sprint," you explained, giving her Beautiful Bastard instead. "This should be a good enough in between, just in case she's not into guns being shoved up anyone's vagina--"

Up where?! she shrieked, grabbing the first book again, along with the sequel and the book you were handing her. "Okay I'll take that for his sister, and these two for me."

"This is exactly why we're friends," you quipped, ringing up her order. "Now about that other thing…you do know that just because I own a bookshop, it doesn't mean that I know everything about everything, right?"

She rolled her eyes at you. "Yeah, but I also know that you live for all these myths and folk tales, so I bet you know a thing or two about Viking Christmas."

"Alright fine. Find a chair and settle in," you said with an overly dramatic wave of your hand. "First things first, it's not called 'Viking Christmas', it's called 'Yule'. Immediately if you wanna get on his family's good side, you say Good Yule because it shows that you did at least a customary Google search before you stepped foot on their property." You handed her a small notepad and a pencil. "You're gonna wanna write this down."

When her scribbling down stopped, she perked up with a question. "Do they have a Santa Claus?"

"Yes and no," you answered her, prepping two cups of coffee and handing one over to her before plopping down on your own seat in the reading nook, your favorite one in the entire shop. "Santa Claus is what we call who the Brits refer to as 'Father Christmas'. The Brits got that from 'Yule Figure' from the Viking mythology and Mr Yule Figure himself is...Odin."

"Wait wait hold up." She shot up her hand like a kid asking questions in class. "So Odin is Santa? He goes around little Viking kiddies' neighborhoods and slides down the chimney to give them wooden axes and swords?"

"Hmmm not quite. The whole making a list and checking it twice to give the good little boys and girls presents on Christmas is...not quite how the Vikings do it. Instead they engage in something called the Wild Hunt, where Odin aka Big Yule Father Kahuna calls on his posse of gods and plays a game of non-consensual hide and seek with the living souls. So us being the 'living mortals', we have to find a safe enough hiding place that Odin and Thor and the rest of the Norse gods don't find us, because if they do…they drag us to the Underworld."

"Okay first of all, yikes." Ariadne made a big show of shuddering in her seat over what you just told her. "Can't it be something a little bit less morbid? Like if Thor finds you he drags you to his den of iniquity and has his wicked way with you?"

"I mean it's all myths and folklore anyway," you shot back with a small shrug as you finished off your coffee. "So maybe when the big girls are off in their own corner, we can smut it up and pretend that if someone other than Odin finds us, we can get some happy fun times." You both broke out into giggles at your wording. "And when we're telling the story to the smaller kiddos, we say that the gods only go after the naughty kids. Keep with the spirit of Christmas and all that." You wagged a finger in her direction, giving her another suggestion. "Or in the case of meeting Leif's family, just think which one's gonna have him more devastated, your soul getting dragged into the Underworld or your body getting dragged to Thor's man cave."

She wrote down some more notes on her little notepad before standing up, brimming with excitement. "Okay I think that's all I need. Hopefully…"

"Babes, you're there to meet the family, not get gatekeeper gamer boy levels of interrogated on what you know about Yule. As soon as you don't say 'Merry Viking Christmas', you're in the clear."

She squealed, rushing over to wrap her arms around you and give you a tight squeeze. "Thank you thank you! You just saved me from looking a total ditz meeting his family. I have a really good feeling about this one, you know?"

You gave her a squeeze back, happy that she was finally in a relationship that felt stable enough to start on that family she'd always wanted.

Maybe one day you could be so lucky with your own love life.

"I'm really happy for you, Aria. Let me know how it goes when you get back, okay?"

You worked on wrapping up the book she intended to gift Leif's sister as she asked you another question. "What about mistletoe? Do they have that in Yule?"

You scrunched her nose and shook your head at her question. "Yes and no again. Yes, they've assigned meaning to the plant but no, you don't kiss under it for fear of spending the next year all alone. They believe it to be a symbol for fertility, so it's been known for couples to hang it above their headboards so that their holiday fun times might lead to a child. It's also seen as a symbol for new life or resurrection because there's another folktale that says that Loki fashioned a weapon from the mistletoe plant to kill Baldur, and Frigga's tears turned the white berries red and resurrected her fallen son. Which if you ask me is a steaming pile of horse shit that's almost more ridiculous than how Siegfried was felled in the Nibelungenlied, but that's a story for another day."

"Hold up, but isn't Loki also a son of Frigga?"

You shrugged. "Who knows what's real and what's not at this point? These tales are thousands of years old. All we know right now is that Thor's real and he's friends with a billionaire that made a fancy iron suit and a soldier from the 40s that doesn't even look like he's hit his mid-20s. And that he dated an astrophysicist. Tell you what, if I ever meet him, I'll ask him myself. Maybe I'll even ask him what exactly goes down in the Wild Hunt if they still do it in this century."

"Ooh, if he walks into the store please text me?" You gave her a questioning look. "What? He's my hall pass. Leif knows all about it. Natasha Romanoff's his."

You handed her the gift-wrapped book. "Pinky promise, I'll tell you as soon as a 6'4 muscular Barbie looking dude from Asgard swinging a hammer and summoning thunder and lightning walks into my shop. Maybe I'll even text you if the Black Widow herself walks in so that Leif would owe a favor or two."

"Hey, it could happen," she quipped, sticking her tongue out at you like you were back in the sandbox. "We're in New York, after all. And Avengers Tower's just a ten minute walk away. You never know, you know?"

"Right," you breathed, waving her off as she neared the door. "Merry Yule."

"Merry Crisis," she shot back, blowing you a kiss as she stepped into the cold New York night.

You started cleaning the store so you could close up for the night when a new voice pierced through the quiet.

"I appreciate your refusal to believe that hokum about the mistletoe, darling. It warms my cold Jotun heart knowing that it's safe in your brilliant hands."

Large hands found themselves at your waist before your new visitor's arms wrapped around you from behind, your body going frigid at the action. "Who--?"

"Oh no..." He immediately released you from his hold, allowing you to come face to face with a towering man with onyx curls and a devastatingly handsome face that seemed vaguely familiar. "I must have gone back too far this time." He took a step toward you, his hands twitching in your direction as if he wanted to go back to where he was just a few seconds ago. If you were being honest with yourself, you wouldn't object. "Sweetheart, who am I to you?"

"What? This time?" You raised an eyebrow at him, confusion coating your words. "You trying to tell me we met before? Because trust me I'd remember meeting someone that looked like you."

"Who am I to you? What do you know of me?" he asked again, his brows upturned at the center of his forehead, his expression reminding you of a baby kitten pleading for affection.

"Not much," you admitted. "You look like the guy that tore up a hole in the sky and rode some space chariot while leading an alien army that laid waste on the city that I call home...and the guy that went up against Iron Man and his friends, including that big green scary monster looking dude."

He hung his head, looking down at the ground as he let out a long sigh. "I don't just look like that guy, darling, I--" He exhaled sharply before composing himself again. "I am that guy. Well, I was. And Banner's honestly not that terrifying once you get to know him." He looked at you again, seeing your hand and beginning to look emotionally deflated. "I went too far back."

"You know who else you look like?" you asked him, a smirk playing at your mouth as you reached for the chain around your neck, showing him the ring that hung in its center, closing the distance he put between you. "You look like my future husband."

The relief was written all over Loki's face as he eyed the ring he'd given you, a brilliant smile gracing his features when he pulled you into his arms and laid his lips on yours.  You melted into the kiss, pressing yourself against him as the god's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer.

"My darling little mortal," he mumbled against your lips. "Somehow managing to fool a trickster god, for any amount of time, is a feat in and of itself." He kissed you again, lifting you off the ground and spinning you in a circle when you put your arms over his shoulders.

"Well you said it yourself, I'm brilliant," you answered him back when you pulled away, your fiancée keeping your feet off the ground. He adjusted his hold on you to hold you up by a single arm, making you giggle when he started walking toward the front door and made your keys materialize in his now free hand. "What're you doing, Mischief?"

"You're finished here for the night," he stated simply, all the lights turning off, along with the doors locking closed, and the sign in front flipping to "Closed" to indicate you'd retired for the night, with a simple wave of his hand. "I'm taking you home, little mortal. Close your eyes."

A breeze flew by your face and the next thing you knew your back was pressed against the familiar wooden column of your kitchen area. Loki crushed his lips to yours in a desperate kiss, both of you moaning into each other's mouths as he pressed your chests together, hands traveling down the sides of your body to wrap your legs around him.

The feel of your hands being brought above your head despite the god's hands still roaming and grasping at your thighs had your eyes snapping open, breaking the kiss with a little squeak from the back of your throat as you looked up. A thrill shot up your spine seeing a thick glowing ring of Loki's seiðr fastened around your wrists and keeping you tethered to the column behind you.

"I could not decide whether to reward you or punish you for getting the better of me earlier, my love," he rasped, latching his lips to your neck and sucking a bruise into your skin. He smirked against you when you started whimpering and arching into his touch within seconds. "So I shall do both."

You let out a whiny sound that had him lightly grasping your chin, running his thumb along your bottom lip to coax it into a pout. He kissed you again, nipping at your bottom lip before pulling away. Then another ring of his seiðr appeared at your hips, keeping them flush against the column as both rings began to lift you up, your feet soon leaving the ground until he was eye level with your pelvis.

He made a motion with his hand and suddenly you felt a breeze all over your body as he bared you to him, your clothes disappearing in a flash of green.

"Loki…" you whined, squirming under his predatory gaze as another ring of seiðr went around each of your legs, just above your knee, and opened you to him.

"I've not been home in ages, my darling mortal," he rasped, not taking his eyes off of your arousal as he licked his lips. "And I am famished." He took a step closer to you, lightly running his fingers up your inner thigh.

"Let--Let me down, then," you said shakily, feeling your walls quivering and clenching around nothing as he traced up your inner thigh again, only this time with the tip of his nose before pressing a tender kiss to your skin. "I can fix us something to--"

"Oh no, sweet Talia." He kissed you right below your belly button, groaning into your skin. "I do not crave food, my love." He continued to press kisses to your stomach, faintly chuckling when you tried to close your legs and his restraints kept you from moving even an inch. "Your reward is that I will not deny you any ounce of pleasure tonight. I have longed for you too much to deny you much of anything."

He moved his head lower, and you let out an obscene moan of his name as he ran his tongue along the length of your slit before slowly circling your clit.

"Your punishment…" he breathed, pressing slow lingering kisses and laving his tongue over your sensitive bundle of nerves. "No touching."

"Loki, wait--Oh f-fuck!" The room filled with your moans as he proceeded to alternate between long licks at your entrance and close his lips over your clit for what felt like a blissfully torturous eternity. He kept his word on not denying you anything as he brought you over the edge over and over again.

Your throat was raw from your constant moans and screams of his name and various expletives, already having lost count of how many times you came for him when he slid two devastatingly long fingers inside you and curled up, brushing against the spot that had you seeing stars. "One more, sweet girl," he mumbled around your clit, the vibrations from his voice already bringing you to the brink of orgasm yet again.

He moved your legs to rest your thighs on his shoulders, moaning against you when your entire body tensed as you came for him again, your pussy quivering against his mouth as he lapped at your release with languid strokes of his tongue. The restraints around your wrists and hips moved you down the column until your face was level with his, a weak whimper slipping from you when you saw how his lips glistened with your juices.

You barely registered the sound of the zipper as he kissed along your chest, biting and sucking more bruises into your skin. He lined himself up at your entrance, sliding into you in a single effortless thrust and eliciting a staggered sigh of relief from the god. "I've m-missed this," he whimpered between thrusts. "Missed you." Thrust. "My precious mortal." Thrust. "My wife." Thrust.

He threw his head back, letting out a decadent moan when you clenched around him after what he'd just called you. It had you desperately longing for your wedding day. Desperately aching to touch him. Just desperate for him.

"Please…" you whimpered, feebly fighting against the restraints again. When the rings holding you to the column finally disappeared, you could only let out a sharp exhale, your hand immediately clawing into your fiancée's back, the other weaving into his onyx curls.

Loki pressed you harder against the column, driving himself deeper inside you, his hands roaming and grasping wherever he could, as if he couldn't get enough of you. Couldn't touch you enough. He slanted his mouth over yours, moaning into the kiss when your tongues tangled together and you could taste your release on him. He adjusted his hold on you, letting out another muffled obscene sound into each other's mouths when the motion caused you to bounce on his cock.

Once he held you securely in his arms he started walking you further into your home, each step making you bounce on him and further weakening you in his embrace. He eased you down onto your bed, breaking the kiss and rendering you completely speechless watching his clothes melt away and baring his godly physique to you.

All you could do was breathe his name as he moved to hover over you again, pressing his lips to your cheek as he picked up the pace. He wrapped his hand around your knee, raising your leg to wrap it around his waist so he could drive into you harder. When you felt his fingers rubbing over your clit, the only sound that came out of you was a sharp moan, your body weakly arching against his hand before squeaking out, "I can't--"

"Just one more, dear heart. For me," he grunted, latching his lips onto that spot between your neck and shoulder as he kept on rubbing tight circles on the over-sensitized nub. Your legs shook and your walls convulsed around him, bring him to his own release as he marked your skin.

Once you both came down from your high, you felt his seiðr wash over you as he pulled you into his arms, putting the covers over you both with another wave of his hand. "I gotta be honest with you, sweetie, that felt a little pent up," you exhaled, a tiny part of you finding it unfair that he'd already resumed his regular breathing as if he didn't just fuck you senseless.

Damn Asgardian endurance.

"Because it was, precious mortal," he told you simply, tracing his finger along your cheek. "How long has it been since last you saw me?"

"Three months…give or take a week?" You braced yourself, already dreading what he'd say next.

"I have not seen you for over a year, my love," he confessed, pressing another kiss to your lips. "At least not like this. Every time I had seen you, you were yet to know me. There were worlds where you even outright feared me, scurrying away once you'd realized where you recognized me from. When I got to your shop earlier, I nearly believed I landed in another iteration of that world."

Suddenly your 'prank' from earlier left a sinking feeling in your stomach. "Loki, I'm sorry, I didn't know." You wrapped your arm around him, pressing yourself even closer to him if that were even possible, resting your head on his shoulder. "I just thought it'd be a bit of fun--"

"You have nothing to apologize for," he reassured you, brushing the tip of his nose along your own before softly kissing the spot. "But I have missed you terribly. Getting to hold you, to love you. To simply be here with you and enjoy a moment with my wife."

"Future wife," you pouted. "We're still in the planning phase, sadly. I take it the last time you saw me was sometime in our…future? I'm sorry this still gets confusing for me." He nodded his answer, pressing his lips to  your forehead. "Well then the timelines better fucking behave because I refuse to let you go anywhere. I get that you're a big powerful hero now, and knowing that you're out there making sure that everyone's safe and gets to come home to their families? I couldn't be prouder. But you should get to come home, too." You pressed a kiss to his chest, just over his heart. "Preferably for longer than a quickie with your fiancé."

His brows furrowed, shaking his head at your sentiment before pulling you to lay on top of him, chests pressed together with his arms wrapped around you in a tight embrace. "I've come from a time where we were married and I called you my wife. Regardless of our pending ceremony, that is what you are to me now and what I will call you moving forward. No more of those semantics."

You nudged his chin with your nose, a giggle escaping you when he pulled you up to capture your lips in a soft kiss. "Tell me about it. The future…"

"When I found you, you were a force to be reckoned with. Planning your friend Aria's wedding--"

"Ah, so she and Leif really are headed for the fairytale happy ever after?"

"No no, you were planning the wedding in Asgard." You eyes widened at the new information. "She was set to marry Thor."

"Wait she what?!"

A/N: I'm so excited to participate in this year's Secret Santa again! This has been so much fun to write for both times around, and hopefully the story did justice to the request 🥹💖

The request from @acidcasualties:

secret santa 2023 taglist: @joyful-enchantress @mochie85 @holdmytesseract @sailorholly @lady-rose-moon @superficialdomina @cultofcarter @coldnique @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @smolvenger @loz-3 @catsladen @lokisgoodgirl @acidcasualties @divine-knight-hand @quirkiest-turtle @glitchquake @nyxlaufeyson @fandxmslxt69 @holymultiplefandomsbatman

[bloodynereid]

Scream for Me | Halloween Headcanons for Scream Killers

pairings: stu macher x fem! reader, billy loomis x fem! reader, mickey altieri x fem! reader, jill roberts x gender neutral! reader, amber freeman x gender neutral! reader, quinn bailey x fem! reader, ethan landry x fem! reader

tw: slight smut (nothing too graphic but yeah it's mostly fade to black stuff), mentions of horror movies, kissing, alcohol, nothing much else? it's not that crazy honestly.

description: what do killers get up to during the spookiest time of the year? well spend time with their s/o's ofc.

a/n: part 1 in my halloween double feature project! i've been meaning to write for scream for agesss so hopefully i'll do that more now that i've actually taken a stab at it (you see what i did there). anyways these are just my personal preferences so if you want a specific killer or scream character that isn't in here you can request something cause my requests are currently open! hope you enjoy <3 and have a safe halloween!

STU MACHER:

You are obviously going to some type of Halloween party (maybe even hosting one??).

You spend the night cradled in Stu’s arms as horror movies play in the background and beer flows almost like it’s falling from the sky.

You had decided to do a couple’s costume that year. So Stu obviously chose Jack The Ripper and you went as one of his victims.

He had convinced you it would be sexy.

So you lay splayed on the couch in a corset and long flowy skirt with fake blood on your neck while Stu wore a flowy cotton shirt splattered with fake blood and tight pants.

It may not be totally period accurate but you guys looked hot.

Throughout the party you and Stu could barely keep your hands off each other, something that made the rest of your friend group groan.

The tension finally became irresistible when Stu did that particular thing with his tongue which had you pulling him quickly away from the couch and up to one of the unoccupied rooms.

Stu would later tell you that was one of the best Halloweens he’d ever had and you would readily agree.

BILLY LOOMIS:

You and Billy always went all out for Halloween - ever since you were kids.

Childhood best friends to lovers. Stu always teased you for being too tropey.

But you loved each other. Even when Billy started to pull away after his mother left his father.

That Halloween you knew you had to do something special, just to try and cheer him up.

Your plan started with watching a few horror movies before going over to Stu’s for the customary Halloween party.

You had decided to go as Hannibal Lecter and Clarice Starling, since you were both obsessed with the movie ever since you had sneaked into a showing when it first came out.

It was just the right level of insane and scary.

Your plan came to fruition during the middle of the party, when you swiftly pulled Billy away from your little group of friends and towards one of the bedrooms.

You may or may not have suggested an idea to spice up the bedroom - with some role play.

And well… let’s say that Stu had to push the volume of the music up so people wouldn’t hear the screams of pleasure coming from upstairs.

MICKEY ALTIERI:

You were both movie fanatics, which is actually how you two met - through the film studies class at Windsor College.

You had become fast friends and when October had rolled around you had spent nearly every day watching a horror movie in either your dorm or his.

He also liked to film you, he always teased you that you were his muse whenever he pulled out the movie camera just to capture your laughing face.

On Halloween night is when things actually changed between the two of you.

You had gone as one of your favorite characters from Pulp Fiction, Mia Wallace and Mickey was dressed up as Dale Cooper from Twin Peaks.

You had met up at one of the many frat parties that the campus hosted but had ended up leaving because even if insanity was reining on a night like this, having sweaty guys crowd in around you wasn’t your vision for a good Halloween.

So you had settled in on your bed since your roommate was busy making out with someone on your couch and put on the newest episode of X-Files.

However, instead of actually watching the tv show the two of you got into some weirdly deep conversation about aliens that definitely made you sound high on something.

That was when Mickey kissed you, before he pulled away quickly - blushing intensely that made you sort of glad that he had made the move you had been thinking about doing the whole length of the conversation.

You pulled him by the collar and kissed him deeply, leaving him slightly stunned before he relaxed in your hold and pulled away a few minutes later.

After confessing the fact that he had literally been in love with you since he met you, you basically pounced on him and the rest of the night was spent with Scully and Mulder in the background as you two kissed.

JILL ROBERTS:

Jill was definitely one of those people who didn’t really love Halloween, sure she loved watching horror movies and putting on a cute outfit but that was it.

So it basically took all of your persuasive ability to get her to come out with you, even if it was just for a walk to see all the decorated houses.

Jill pretended not to enjoy seeing all of the incredible decorations and the fall leaves but you caught her smiling and watching you with sparks in her eyes a few times.

Since she wasn’t all that big on Halloween you both wore pretty understated costumes.

You went as the moon - covered in all silver and glitter placed strategically on your face.

Jill went as the sun because let’s face it, she’s literally the sun in her day to day life.

After completing your autumn walk, you grabbed two hot chocolates from one of the coffee vendors at the town center before you both walked back to Jill’s place.

You spent the night watching some random tv shows and making out.

Even if you didn’t really do anything Halloween-related it ended up being one of the best nights you had ever had with your girlfriend.

AMBER FREEMAN:

STAB MARATHONNN

Tara had tried to drag you to one of the many Halloween parties that were happening that year but you knew you had to be around for your girlfriend’s yearly tradition - especially since it was the first year you had been officially dating.

You had gotten a bunch of snacks that you both loved and dressed up as your favorite characters from the franchise.

Amber obviously went as Ghostface.

You sat cuddled up on the couch right after getting to her house when school finished and watched each Stab movie, one after another.

Amber spent a lot of time explaining certain parts of the movie or added fun facts from the actual massacre.

Most of the time you couldn’t pay attention to what was going on in the movie but it was so worth it to hear Amber rave about random details.

You thought you were more than lucky to be able to have her as your girlfriend.

Obviously you only watched up until Stab 7.

DO NOT mention Stab 8 around Amber - you had learnt that the hard way.

The date night ended with you both having eaten all the snacks and slightly over exhausted.

But that didn’t stop you from kissing the life out of your girlfriend and having some definitely not PG-13 fun.

The mask was particularly attractive, okay?

QUINN BAILEY:

Being with Quinn meant that you had to live with constantly being surprised by her.

For Halloween you had decided that you would hit a few frat parties before going to an escape room (which was her suggestion surprisingly enough).

So you rocked up to the escape room place in your Harley Quinn (you) and Poison Ivy (Quinn) costumes and were led by a member of the staff towards one of the many rooms.

Since Quinn had picked everything out, you didn’t know what to expect.

You two ended up doing a noir version of an escape room, with dramatic music and every aspect in the room was bathed in black and white.

Even with being slightly tipsy (from pregaming vodka and the parties) and horny, you somehow made it successfully through the maze of rooms… with a lot of intermissions for fumbling in dark corners.

All Hallow’s Eve concluded with you carrying your escape room certificate back to Quinn’s apartment where you probably kept Tara and Sam up for the rest of the night.

ETHAN LANDRY:

The first time that you met Ethan was on Halloween night, even if the day fell on a weekday there were still parties raging in and around Blackmore.

Of course you had seen him around campus because you knew Chad from the random times he had asked you to tutor him in the mandatory chemistry course you both had to take but you never actually got to talk to him.

Decked out in your Carrie costume you were drinking cherry schnapps (not wanting to get too drunk) in one of the many corners that the frat house had.

Your friends were either busy dancing or were flirting incredibly badly since they were drinking wayyy more than you were.

You had been so focused on the red liquid in your cup that you didn’t realize that someone had joined you until you nearly jumped at the sight of a rather cute boy in a cardboard knight costume.

Ethan had stuttered out that this was a dare and that he was sorry to interrupt your night but you only laughed and stayed talking to him for basically the remainder of the party.

You were even able to crack his shy facade and get him to dance with you in the corner when your respective favorite songs came on.

Halloween night ended with a promise for more and a phone number after you gave him a soft kiss, tinged with cherry.

hehe those were fun to write - i'll definitely be doing more in the future.