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dark-fics-4-you · 11 months

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Number One Fan ch. III

dark!Stepbro!Rafe x f!Reader x JJ Maybank

Warnings: noncon/dubcon, smut, incest relationship (step-siblings), f!recieving oral, fingering, drugging, alcohol, gaslighting, manipulation, jealousy, controlling behavior

Rafe’s jealousy over your budding flirtationship with JJ becomes competitive, and Rafe can’t stop himself from trying to get closer to you

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You were completely and utterly stumped.

Despite searching every drawer, your laundry basket, each nook and cranny of your room AND tearing through Sarah’s room, you couldn’t find the underwear you were looking for.

Why did you have to realize your favorite pink silk panties were missing today of all days??

Glancing at your phone, you saw a new text from JJ, ‘i’ve been thinking about you all day y/n, can’t wait for tn ;)’

A smile tugged at your lips, butterflies fluttering in your stomach as JJ’s face entered your mind and you typed out a reply. Although you hadn’t realized it at first, your friend had so much more to him than just his goofy exterior.

JJ understood what it was like to have a tough childhood and a deadbeat Dad, something you had been all too familiar with before you mom finally left your father and eventually found Ward Cameron.

In a lot of ways, you felt like you could be completely yourself around JJ, which was difficult when you were with other friends. He was so perceptive and sweet, although he had a teasing side that you enjoyed just as much.

This was the first time that you had felt this comfortable around another man besides Rafe. But Rafe was your brother, so of course the feelings you had for JJ were different.

And even though you usually told Rafe everything about your life, you wanted to keep JJ a secret. You knew that Rafe would disapprove, he had voiced his opinion of JJ more times than you could count, and you knew that if you told him you were dating JJ he would be mad. So you kept everything between you and JJ only.

Being around JJ felt thrilling, like you never knew what he might do next. He was flirtatious as hell, which was daunting at first, but you grew to love his compliments and innuendos, often feeling a rush whenever he made any kind of sexual joke around you.

You were still a virgin, which felt embarrassing. You had never even had a boyfriend! Despite your many attempts at finding a relationship throughout middle and high school, each one had fizzled out before starting. It had been line after line of boys giving half hearted excuses about why they couldn’t be with you, and you never really understood why every single one of your relationships always failed.

You had never given or received head, honestly you had only had a limited number of make out sessions, always getting too nervous to take it further.

You were determined to finally change that all, and JJ seemed like the perfect guy to lose your virginity to.

You two had been friends for so long, it felt natural to start dating, and even though you knew JJ wasn’t a virgin, you could tell that he liked you a lot and sex with him would be so much more than just a hook up.

You let out a frustrated sigh as you leaned over your drawers. You grabbed a short skirt and lace up corset top that seemed appropriate for the house party you were planning on throwing.

It was always a bit risky to have your friend group coming over to your place since a lot of them were Pogues, friends that you had made before you rose to Kook status, and you had never liked the Pogue vs Kook rivalry.

Despite being a regular terrorizer of the Pogues, whenever you would hang out with them, Rafe wouldn’t bother them at all. Maybe he understood how important they were to you?

Or maybe he had finally started to outgrow his high school rival bullshit.

Either way, you enjoyed the privilege of inviting them over basically whenever you wanted, a privilege that Rafe rarely awarded to Sarah when she wanted to have them over.

This fact had always puzzled you, it was really strange observing the difference in how Rafe treated you and how he treated Sarah and Wheezie. You had always chalked it up to Rafe holding childhood grudges for too long.

You pulled on the skirt you picked out, choosing a slightly less provocative pair of panties than the ones that were still missing. After you tossed the shirt u were wearing to bed in your laundry basket, you slipped the corset top over your head and tried to adjust the straps to no avail.

Already frustrated by the missing underwear, you angrily stood up, walking over to Sarah’s room to complain about you issues and ask her to lace you up, but she was now nowhere to be found. She was probably halfway to John B’s at this point, she had been spending a lot of time with him recently.

With your sister gone, you had no option but to try Rafe’s room.

You knocked on the door, announcing, “Rafe, it’s Y/N! Can you help me with something?”

You leaned closer trying to hear an answer, and when you heard nothing you decided to just walk in. Opening the door, you found the room empty, but you could hear the shower in his bathroom running and warm steam and the smell of his body wash wafted through the air.

He must not have heard me, you thought to yourself as you stepped into his bedroom, closing the door behind you.

“Hey, Rafe!” you called again as you neared his bed, taking a seat on the plush mattress.

This time you heard the water turn off, and your step brother responded, “Y/N/N?”

“Yeah, can you help me lace up my corset?” You checked you phone again, happy to see another text from JJ, this time with a photo attachment. You could hear Rafe in the other room stepping out of the shower and you bit your lip nervously before you opened the message from JJ.

He was cupping his hard cock through the straining fabric of his boxers, and his large hand almost looked small next to his thick dick. Your eyes widened, thighs unconsciously squeezing together as you took in the image before you eyes drifted to the text beneath the photo, ‘look at what you do to me baby, i’ve been stroking myself all day thinking about your pretty mouth and pussy. i need to fill you up.’

His words had your cheeks burning and you felt your panties growing damp, you wanted him so bad you felt like you were on fire.

You nearly jumped out of your skin when the door to Rafe’s bathroom opened and he stepped out, towel wrapped around his lower body, hair and chest still slick with water. Quickly closing your phone and shifting on the bed in surprise, you glanced at your brother with a sheepish grin, trying not to focus on his exposed chest.

“Um, hey could you lace this corset up for me, Rafey?” You batted your eyelashes at your older step brother, trying to ignore the wet feeling between your legs.

He raised an eyebrow, shaking his head in annoyance, but he stepped toward you anyways, motioning for you to turn around so he could reach the back of the corset.

“What’re you all dressed up for anyways?” You felt his warm hands brushing the bare skin of your back as he grabbed the laces, pulling them tight.

“I told you already, I’m throwing a party tonight, my friends are coming.” You were mad that he forgot your plans, just hoping that he wasn’t going to start a fight.

He was silent and you could feel the tension crackling in the air. Rafe tied the bow, hands falling at your waist before he spun you around.

“Is that a problem?” You asked him, challenge heavy in your voice. You really hated fighting with Rafe, because usually you had such a great relationship with him. It’s not that you wanted to cause an issue, you just didn’t see why there needed to be any issue.

Rafe sighed, before wrapping his arms around you and pulling you in for a hug, “no Y/N/N, not a problem. You can have your party.”

You hugged him back happily, mood shifting instantly at his approval. “Thanks so much Rafey! Hey, you could invite some of your football friends over!”

He mulled over your suggestion and nodded a bit, “sure.”

Your phone buzzed and when you and Rafe both turned to glance towards it, you snatched it up, anxiously hiding the screen from your step brother.

“Well, I’m gonna start getting ready for tonight,” you glanced around his room one last time before your eyes randomly settled on his laundry basket.

You noticed the familiar pink shade of the cloth sticking out slightly and you walked to the basket, bending over to grab them.

“Ha, Rafey it looks like some of my laundry ended up in your basket,” you giggled, holding up the panties for Rafe to see.

Your older brother blushed, face frozen in surprise before he nervously laughed, stammering out a joke about ‘wanting to try them on’ that just made you laugh harder.

You rolled your eyes and shook your head in amusement before waving goodbye and heading back to your room.

After closing the door, you slid off the pair of panties you thought you were going to wear and replaced them with your favorite pair, checking yourself out in the mirror a bit as you did so.

Your phone buzzed again and you opened two texts from JJ, ‘send me a picture baby please,’ followed by ‘i need to see how wet you are for me princess’

Your cheeks grew hot and you felt you a warmth between your legs. You lay back on the bed, imagining JJ on top of you as your fingers crept between your legs.

You slipped the panties off, throwing them to the ground and you brought your fingers to your clit.

Swirling your fingers around the tender cluster of nerves, you let out a small moan at the feeling. You grabbed your phone, spreading your legs before snapping a picture with your finger teasing your clit.

You send the picture and JJ opened it immediately. A few seconds passed before you saw a video from him pop up.

When you clicked the video you saw JJ’s hand wrapped around his hard cock, stroking it slowly. Your mouth watered as you imagined the feeling of him inside of you.

Posing yourself again, you snapped a picture of your perky tits. You clicked send, anxiously awaiting his next response.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rafe watched you from afar as you scanned the crowd of the party again, looking for JJ’s blond hair.

He had been checking in on you every few minutes, making sure your cup was always full and offering you lines of blow, some of which you accepted.

It wasn’t hard to tell that you were drunk already, the most recent time he had spoken with you he had noted how much you were slurring your words and the unsteady way you tried to walk over to one of your girl friends.

He knew you had been looking for JJ. After you stepped into the shower before the party, Rafe had swiped your phone, looking through your most recent messages and realizing your motivations for throwing the party tonight.

Anger bubbled in his chest at the thought of that dirty Pogue defiling his sister. JJ was scum, always had been, always would be. How could you not see it??

JJ didn’t have half the history with you that Rafe did. He had known you for so long, watched you grow up from just down the hall. You had shared moments and memories that JJ could never have. Rafe was just trying to shield you from any man that wasn’t him.

Because Rafe had seen time and time again how men reacted to you. Every room you entered, he could feel the eyes swivel to you, could practically see these men perceive you as nothing more than a piece of meat.

And it made him sick.

You were so beautiful, so incredibly sweet, and way too trusting.

You were too good for that Pogue trash, too pure. If you hooked up with JJ, who knows what he might turn you into. JJ might even turn you against him, which made him the most pissed off.

Rafe Cameron’s little sister deserved to be protected from any of the sick men out there who wanted to ruin your innocence.

But for tonight, he knew that JJ wouldn’t bother you.

He glanced over at his friend across the room who gave him a knowing nod. The rest of his team had taken care of JJ, harassing him and pushing him outside of the house. They weren’t gonna let him back in, and Rafe wasn’t going to let you leave before he got what he wanted.

The music blasted through the house, bodies crowding every available space. Rafe could still see you sitting alone on a counter near the kitchen and he decided to check in on you again.

He came up behind you, arms wrapping around your waist in a hug and you smiled up at him, “Rafey! Can you get me a refill please?”

His heart melted at the way you batted your eyelashes at him and he felt his dick grow hard at the sight of your sweet smile.

“Sure princess, anything for you,” your older brother said with a wink before grabbing your cup to fill it up.

Rafe walked to the kitchen, luckily for him, there was no one else around at the moment.

He set your cup down on the counter, pulling the baggie of powder from his pocket before pouring a good amount to the bottom of the cup. He added more ice and filled it up with the strong punch you had made.

The less you remembered of this night, the better.

Rafe had been going crazy the last few weeks. After that night that he snuck into your room and fingered you, he had been thinking about you nonstop.

About your perfect body, the way you felt tightening around his fingers, so wet and all his. Every single noise you made, every sigh and moan had been playing on a loop in his mind, and he was determined to hear more.

To Rafe’s surprise, the morning after he snuck into your room the first time and made you cum in your sleep, he found you awake early in a great mood and cooking breakfast for everyone.

You spent that day with him, paying more attention to him than you had in a while, and even though there was a small pit of guilt building in your older brother’s gut as he kept his secret from you, he also loved being your center of attention.

Three days after the first night he came to your room at night, he did it again.

You were such a heavy sleeper it would have concerned Rafe if your nature didn’t allow him those moments alone in your room.

Some nights he just came in to watch you sleep, gaze wandering over your naked curves and fantasizing about stuffing his cock into you.

He wandered if that would wake you up, or if you would be able to sleep through him slowly fucking your limp body. He daydreamed about you waking up as he pounded into you, so cock drunk and tired that you would let your big brother do anything to you.

Every morning after he made you cum in your sleep, you would wake up feeling so refreshed and you were always especially sweet to him those days.

Rafe wanted so bad for you to know that he was the one making you feel so good. That your big brother was watching out for you and would always take care of you.

The blond snapped out of his thoughts, giving your drink one last stir before heading back to where you were sitting.

Your face lit up when you saw him and you stumbled from your chair to hug him. “Thanks so much Rafey!”

“No problem, bunny, how are you feeling?” The blond sat beside you and handed you the drink.

“‘M good i just don’t know where JJ is and none of the other Pogues have seen him,” you were slurring your words, hiccuping in between syllables. Rafe knew that you were already drunk the last time he saw you, but now you were on another level. “He told me he was gonna be here.”

You took a large swig of your drink, missing the frown that grew on Rafe’s face at the mention of JJ’s name.

“Fuck that Pogue, I honestly don’t get why you’re so determined to be with that guy.” Rafe scowled with disgust.

You reared back a bit at Rafe’s words, “I don’t know what you’re talking about Rafe, JJ is my friend. And besides, even if he was anything more than that, it would still be none of your business!”

Rafe’s face grew hot with anger, temper spiking when you talked back to him. He knew you were lying to him right now, he had seen some of your messages to JJ.

And it very much was his business.

You were his little sister, he had an obligation to keep you safe, to keep you away from people that would hurt you.

Not only that, but Rafe felt betrayed by the thought of you giving yourself to anyone other than him, but especially with JJ Maybank.

Rafe’s bond with you was deeper than anyone else’s in your life.

If anyone had a right to your virginity, it was him.

“I’m just saying, I’ve heard some bad shit about that guy, he sleeps around and leaves every girl he meets broken hearted. I just don’t want that to happen to my sister.” Rafe looked at you sincerely, trying so hard to convince you.

Your eyes softened, somewhat touched by the concern from your brother, but still annoyed with him.

“I am perfectly capable of making my own decisions and taking care of myself, Rafe.”

He just snorted in response, turning away as he laughed humorously, “sure.”

You took another swig of your drink and Rafe eyed you.

“Make sure you drink that before it’s all watered down, Y/N/N.” He wanted you to drink it faster so the results would be stronger. “Also… I have a little surprise for you.”

You looked at him curiously before throwing back another large gulp of your drink, “what?”

He pulled a small baggie from his pocket and you raised an eyebrow as he poured out some of the contents onto the table and began setting up a line.

“I like how you think Rafe,” you smiled, previous argument forgotten as your brother handed you a rolled up twenty. You sipped your drink again before you leaned over the table and snorted the line.

The burn didn’t last long and you could feel the coke mingling with the alcohol already in your system. You took a couple more drinks of your punch, but the sweetness was starting to hurt your stomach. Colors began to blur together and you suddenly felt really overwhelmed by the need to lay down.

“Mm fuck Rafey, I don’t feel great.” You mumbled, leaning against the larger man to steady yourself, not really understanding why the room seemed to be rocking.

Rafe chuckled at the state you were in, knowing that you only had a little bit more time before you would just pass out. “You’re tapping out already, Y/N/N?”

“I just need… to take a little nap,” you were stumbling over your words, barely able to focus on what you were trying to say. “I’ll come back to the party after, promise. Mm k?”

Rafe’s pulse quickened at your words, an idea forming as you wobbled and stood up.

“Do you need me to walk you to your room?” He asked innocently. “Don’t want you to fall over or get sick.”

Your head was spinning, ears ringing, but you felt really weird. You just wanted to be in bed, and you told Rafe as much before you managed to stand and walked away from the activity of the living room.

He didn’t follow you, just watched you walk away with a strange look on his face.

You practically dragged yourself up the stairs to your room, sighing as you closed the door before flopping on to your bed.

Drinking wasn’t something you did all the time, but you usually were so much better at handling your alcohol and you couldn’t understand why you felt so fucked up right now.

Time felt like it was moving differently. Head swimming, you felt like even sitting up might make you nauseous. You felt so exhausted and your limbs were so heavy. The bed you were laying on however was warm and comfortable. Your eyelids began to drift close.

They jolted open however when a ray of light entered the room and the door opened and closed. You could hear the lock click faintly and you turned to look at the door.

A tall male figure stood by the door, and you couldn’t make out his features as he walked closer. You weren’t sure who had just walked in.

“JJ?” You groggily slurred, slowly lifting your back off the bed as you propped yourself up with your elbows.

He didn’t say anything, just slowly kicked his shoes off before you suddenly felt his lips on yours.

You gasped against him in surprise and you felt his weight shift onto the bed before he straddled you and deepened the kiss.

His tongue probed into your mouth and you let out a moan against his lips at the feeling. His hand slid up your thigh, feeling your soft skin before trailing to your ass and lightly squeezing, and you both moaned into each other’s mouths.

You could feel his hard cock grinding against your core, the layers of clothing doing little to conceal how large he was.

You felt dizzy with desire, body buzzing from both want and the alcohol and coke coursing through your system. You knew that you were so drunk that you shouldn’t be making any rash decisions right now, but everything JJ was doing to you felt so so good, you didn’t want him to stop.

Even though it was dark and your vision was blurry, when he pulled away you could make out his blond hair and you grinned up at him.

“Please?” You asked, pulling at your shirt helplessly, needing to be skin to skin with him.

He understood your request, helping you lean forward before he quickly unlaced the corset. His large hands felt so familiar on your skin but he quickly undid the laces before you could linger on the thought.

After he helped you out of the loosened corset, you laid back against the bed, wrapping his legs around his waist and softly humming when you felt his hands on the soft skin of your breasts.

He caressed you gently, hands massaging lightly before he drew closer and wrapped his lips around one of your hardened nipples. You gasped at the feeling as his warm, wet tongue slid over the sensitive bud. You hands reached for his back, wanting to hold onto him and he hissed against your skin as you dug your nails into him.

As his mouth nipped at one breast, his hand trailed to the other bud, pinching and twisting it. You mewled in pleasure, already feeling overwhelmed by all the sensations you were feeling. Your hand traced to his head, tugging on his hair when he made you feel especially good.

He began to trail his kisses down to your stomach and you could feel your panties growing wetter with anticipation.

His hands found their way to your inner thighs, relishing the feeling of your silky soft skin. They traced closer and closer to your core and you felt your cheeks warming up when his finger lightly traced over your panties.

They were already soaked with your juices and he pulled them to the side before ghosting his fingers along your slick folds. You bit your lip when you felt him circle your clit slowly. You rocked your hips just a little, letting out a small sigh at the feeling of friction against your clit.

“Mmm that feels good~”

He swirled his thumb around your clit lightly, teasingly as he positioned himself over you, and you whined before he shut you up with another kiss.

You sighed loudly against his lips when he slowly pushed one finger into your tight cunt. He slowly curled his finger inside you, swallowing your whimpers with his soft lips.

The pressure between your legs hurt a bit at first, but the feeling quickly gave way to pleasure as he twitched his digit inside you, thumb still circling your clit. Every sensation was heightened in your drunken state and you couldn’t help but moan in wanton pleasure, begging him for more.

When his second finger slid into your tight warmth, you tried to snap your legs shut but his strong arms held you in place, keeping your legs open as he plunged his fingers into your messy cunt. You could feel his grip on your thigh digging in to your soft skin roughly.

He repositioned himself over you again and you felt his warm tongue starting to lap at your already tender clit. You realized suddenly that you had been grinding your hips against him as he fingered you.

The blond hummed against your clit, the vibrations sending a shiver up your spine. You grabbed on to his hair again, pulling him even closer to your pussy, silently begging him to finger you deeper.

His fingers were plunging into you faster and harder now, tongue still lapping at your clit and you could feel the pleasure building to a peak between your legs.

You bit your lip, trying hopelessly to stifle your gasps and moans. Your attempts proved to be in vain when you felt yourself be pushed over the edge, the feelings of him lapping up your clit as you came forced an embarrassingly loud moan from your lips.

Legs quaking, you squeezed your eyes shut and tears fell past your lashes as you rode out your orgasm, his fingers moved slower as you came.

Your chest heaved as you tried to catch your breath, body already sagging when exhaustion rolled over you. You came so hard it almost knocked you out immediately. It felt almost impossible to keep your eyes open.

You felt JJ slowly pull his fingers out of you, climbing over you to kiss you again and that was when your vision finally came into full focus.

It felt like slow motion as you realized the man kissing you was not JJ, but in fact Rafe. Your stomach dropped instantly, horrified that your step brother had just eaten you out until you came on his fingers.

And you had loved every second of it.

Your confusion and shock clouded your mind so much you could barely feel his lips moving against yours. Time seemed to stand still as your mind raced, trying to comprehend what was happening.

You felt limp in his arms and the last thing you remembered before your vision went black was Rafe repeating your name.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Your eyes snapped open before they quickly shut again, offended by the morning light streaming through the blinds of your bedroom window.

Pain throbbed in your head and you let out a soft groan as you pressed a hand to your forehead.

You felt sore, a fact you initially attributed to the amount of alcohol you had drank, but your blood ran cold when your memories of last night began to return.

A wave of nausea hit you with a pang as you put together what you remembered. Had that really happened??

It was so sick that you could barely admit it to yourself.

Did your step brother eat you out last night?Or had it just been some twisted nightmare, something brought about by stress and frustration with your older brother.

You couldn’t imagine Rafe willingly doing any of the things that he had done to you, it simply couldn’t have happened. He was your brother, and he wouldn’t take advantage of you like that, especially when you were drunk.

It didn’t make sense, Rafe was your brother. And yeah he had made his fair share of mistakes in the past with drugs, but to think that he could be so evil as to get you drunk and then violate your body, violate your trust in him?

It just wasn’t like the sweet brother that you knew.

The more you thought it over, swallowing your bile on occasion, the more you convinced yourself that it couldn’t be true. It had to have been a nightmare.

After all, you realized, you vaguely remembered your corset being taken off but you were still in it, and it was even laced all the way up, albeit a little looser than before, but you could have drunkenly loosened them before you fell asleep. Your skirt was still on, hell even your socks were on.

Nothing at all was out of place.

And yet, you couldn’t stop the nagging feeling in the back of your brain from telling you to not let this nightmare go so easily.

It felt ridiculous, but you needed to ask Rafe.

He was the only one who could tell you the truth, and as embarrassed as you were to tell him you thought that you had had a sex dream about him, you were even more terrified of the idea that anything actually had happened between the two of you.

Rafe was your step brother, but your parents had been married for years and as you grew up, you had come to think of him as your older brother.

You loved him. You trusted him.

And the idea that he might have taken advantage of you while you were drunk out of your mind was so unimaginable it would have made you laugh if it hadn’t felt so nauseatingly real.

You managed to pull yourself out of bed, reaching through your dresser to change into comfier, less revealing clothes.

It took you several minutes to muster up the courage to knock of Rafe’s door, and when he told you to come in, you opened the door nervously before stepping in.

He was laying on his bed wearing only his pajama pants and your cheeks flushed with shame as flashes of last night played in your mind.

Your mouth felt so dry, heart beating in your chest loudly as you tried to look nonchalant. You normally would have gotten closer to him, but now you felt anxious just to be in the same room as him.

“Hey, um, how much of the party do you remember?” You stammered out.

“I remember you tapped out early and went to bed 4 hours before the party ended.” Rafe’s voice was even, blue eyes calm and casual. He sat up in bed and it took all of your nerve not to flinch away from his movement. “We all took about 6 shots each after you left.”

This answer made sense, you didn’t remember telling Rafe that you were going to bed, but maybe he had seen you heading upstairs.

Still, it didn’t all add up. Where had JJ been? Why did he not come to your room after you asked him to?

“So… you didn’t come into my room at all last night?” You held your breath, knowing that his answer might confirm what you feared.

He turned his head to look at you, eyes unreadable, “no.”

“Oh, okay,” relief washed over you and you let out a breath you had been holding since you stepped into his room.

“Why do you ask?” Your eyes met his again at his question, his eyebrows were pulled together and the look he gave you made you shiver. You were finding it really hard to look him in the eyes.

“I just thought-” you stopped yourself, licking your dry lips and clearing your throat. “I don’t know, I- I must have had a dream you came to my room last night.”

“Well I definitely didn’t, Y/N.” He paused, looking into your eyes thoughtfully. “What happened in your dream?”

Your nerves flared as he stared at you expectantly. You didn’t even want to think about that dream, much less admit to your step brother that your mind had imagined him in that way, doing those things to you, and making you feel so fucking good.

“N-nothing, you just came by to check on me a-and I was so drunk I couldn’t get up,” your lie was punctuated with a nervous laugh.

Of course it hadn’t actually happened, Rafe had never been inappropriate with you before and you knew that he couldn’t possibly have feelings for you. He was your brother, the love he felt for you was the same love you felt for him.

Right?

“That’s sweet that you dreamed about me, Y/N/N.” When he mumbled out your nickname in his familiar drawl, to your horror, you felt butterflies in the pit of your stomach, and you lightly squeezed your thighs together when you felt yourself grow wet.

You couldn’t be around him right now. The shame you felt from your sick dream was all you could think about.

Rafe was such a good older brother, he would never try to hurt you. Thinking about him doing those inappropriate things to you that felt so good conflicted your emotions.

Everything about it was just so, so wrong.

You gave some excuse about going to get breakfast before you practically ran from his room to your own.

Rafe leaned back against his bed, a smug grin spreading across his face as he picked up his phone, clicking on his private camera roll before entering his password.

He selected the most recent photo, the one he had taken last night after you passed out, staring at your pussy with your legs spread for him, clit red and swollen. Rafe’s cock throbbed as he remembered the taste of you on his lips and the lewd sounds you had made with every curve of his fingers inside you. The needy way you had begged him to touch you.

He swiped through the others, you laying back with the corset off and perfect breasts exposed, nipples hardened. He loved the way you had gasped when he licked your nipples, he wished that he could have seen your face while he had fucked you with his fingers, but he needed the room to be dark so you didn’t know it was him.

Another showed you still on your back, his hips aligned with yours, his hard dick resting on top of your pubic area, allowing him to see exactly how deep he would be able to fuck you when he finally got the right moment.

And god was he fucking ready to split you open and take your virginity.

But he couldn’t do it last night, not so soon, not when you didn’t know it was your big brother pumping into you and filling you up with his cum.

Not when you thought he was JJ.

Rafe needed you to know when he fucks you that he was the only one in the world who could take care of you, the only one who actually, truly knows you. The only person you were really supposed to be with.

No, Rafe had been patient, and he was willing to be patient again.

He was the best older brother in the world, and you were going to be his, all his.

No matter what.

Chapter IV

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slytherizz · 10 months

Text

Everything, with you - Sebastian Sallow x F!MC/Reader

Tags/Warnings: 18+ | Breeding Kink | Size Kink | explicit sexual content | Dad!Seb

All tags can be found on Ao3

Summary:

"Watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

“Having another one?”

A/N This works as a stand-alone but if you happened to have read either of my long fics this would sit either after the epilogue of 'Whatever it Takes' or in between the final chapter and the epilogue of 'In the Shadow of Us' (but I omitted the Azkaban references so it works for both). I have literally nothing to say for myself for this one other than...

For the thicc Seb girlies 💕

Dark curly hair tickled the underside of Sebastian's chin as he adjusted his son nestled in his lap. Book resting against his knee which was bent at an awkward and rather uncomfortable angle where he'd managed to cram himself onto Sam's little bed. Sebastian’s neck ached and his left leg was almost completely dead. Not that he minded. He knew his youngest would outgrow this one day, and would no longer need his father to read him fairytales. So Sebastian succumbed easily to Sam’s pleading and let himself be the dutiful mountain against which his son could rest.

"Now, this word’s a little tricky, so take your time with it,” Sebastian tapped his finger on the page. "What does this say?"

"I'm not sure." Sam frowned. He traced his pudgy finger over the unfamiliar word and along the bright plume of fiery feathers printed in rich shades of red and gold on the page. The enchanted bird ruffled its wings as it clicked its beak attempting to nip at Sam's fingers. Each time the bird squawked soundlessly as he stroked its plumage Sam giggled with delight.

"Sound it out. You see right here? The 'Ph' makes an ‘f’ sound.”

"Like ‘t’ and ‘h’ make a 'the' sound?"

“Exactly right. Two letters. One sound,” Sebastian said, ruffling his boy's hair proudly.

Alice, his eldest had always had an uncanny ability to memorise words. Could recall the contents of practically every book he'd ever given her once she’d devoured it. She'd taken great pride in unnerving her primary school teacher by listing every ingredient in ‘A draft of living death’. Which may have seemed like a feat within itself…until she’d insisted on doing it backwards.

His unique form of parenting had been called into question more than once by her teachers but who was he to tell his daughter that ‘most potent potions’ was not appropriate bedtime reading? Restricting her inquisitive mind would be a far greater sin.

Sam's little mind on the other hand worked like a tinker. Slower it may seem than his sister as he pieced together meaning. But that wasn’t nearly the case. Simply because he liked to fiddle with things more than his sister. Take a word apart and rearrange it before dismantling it again entirely. He picked apart the rules as he learnt them. All whilst, humming sagely from time to time like he was some great philosopher and he wasn't in fact, a boy of four who had spent the morning sulking when there was no honey left in the pantry for his toast.

“Try sounding it out," he encouraged.

"Fee-nix?" Sam’s brows furrowed slightly the new word unfamiliar and clunky on his tongue. "Pheonix?"

"That’s it. You’re doing well. Now I know you know the rest of it. Reckon you can read the full sentence?”

"The p-phoenix went up in…smoke?"

"Clever boy!"

Sam turned to look up at Sebastian, puffing out his chest with pride. Sebastian kissed the crown of his head affectionately. Sam burrowed his head into his shirt trying and failing to disguise a yawn against his father's chest.

Snapping the book closed and placing it on his bedside table. Sebastian scooped him up as he shifted off the small bed placing his son snuggly under the quilt constellations in golden thread adorned its edges.

“Right, I think that's enough for tonight. Bedtime for you mister.”

“But I'm not tired,” Sam protested. Rubbing his drooping eyelids which did little to rally his father to his plight. Eyes so like his mother's framed under furrowed dark brows. Stubbornness was an inherited trait and with how pigheaded he and his wife could be Sebastian should have known his children would be no different.

“I'm sure you're not,” Sebastian chuckled. Tucking the blankets tighter around his squirming limbs. “But it's already way past your bedtime. If you settle down I’ll put the stars up - How does that sound?”

Sam grinned, nodding his head eagerly as he buried his head deeper into his pillow. Sebastian pulled out his wand. Sam’s eyes lighting up. Glittering as they always get in his eyes when either of her parents performed even the simplest of charms. With an unnecessarily large flourish, Sebastian extinguished the bedside lantern plunging them into darkness. He whispered his modified charm.

Stars small but dazzling began to twinkle into life one by one across the steepled ceiling painting the cosmos across the wooden beams.

It wasn’t nearly as elaborate as the charm in the Hogwarts great hall that had given Sebastian the inspiration. Not quite a replication of the overcast sky outside, but to Sam’s childlike wonder; his father could conjure the heavens in his bedroom. Pluck the stars from the sky so he could sleep bathed in starlight.

For all his folly into the persuits into the darker sides of magic - there was no spell more powerful than the ones that made his children’s life a little more magical.

“Night, Dad.”

***

Undoing the buttons of his shirt Sebastian shucking the material from his shoulders. Wincing as he kneaded at the tight knot that had formed in his neck from too long spent hunched over in his son's small bed. Stretching like a bear ripe from hibernation joints cracking audibly.

His dark brows lifted in alarm as he caught his reflection in the ornate oblong mirror tucked into the corner of their bedroom.

Sebastian had always looked like his father. Same bow to their lips, unruly chestnut hair and soft brown eyes like sodden earth after rain. He could practically divine how his features would change using the brushstrokes of the portrait of his parents that hung proudly on the stairs.

But it was the things that went beyond the superficial that made his parents' old friends stumble on his name and acquaintances double-take in the street as if the dead still walked among them. The determined set of his jaw, the curious glint in his eye. There truly had never been any mistaking exactly who Sebastian’s father was.

But he didn’t just look like his Dad ; he looked like a Dad.

Not that he'd ever been particularly lean . A stockiness to his frame as all Sallow men carried. Violence practically carved into his marrow. Built more for quidditch or boxing, than for scholarly pursuits he'd always been drawn to; but this was getting out of hand.

Sebastian frowned at his reflection. Still strong in the trunk in a way that he never minded, especially not with how it elicited such sinful looks from his wife but he had become notably softer around the middle. What had once been a sparse tuft of hair on his chest he’d taken great pride as a lad, was now thick dark hair trailing down his stomach.

It seemed as unprepared Sebastian had been, stumbling bowlegged and awkwardly into fatherhood, not having nearly enough time with his own to have much to go off; his body had settled far quicker into his new role than he had.

Scratching at the short beard he kept neatly trimmed. Well, for what could pass as neat considering his hair was unruly no matter where it grew. Sebastian twisted and turned, appraising himself from different angles.

When was the last time he'd duelled? Worked up any kind of sweat?

Perhaps he should consider himself lucky he was in the shape he was. Carrying his children upstairs to bed and lugging stacks of heavy stacks of old manuscripts and attifacts charmed against magical interference around the Department of Mysteries hardly counted as exercise. The closest thing anyone would consider vigorous was fucking his wife. But then again holding her small frame against a wall hardly felt like work.

He rotated his joints, and the tendons of muscle in his heavy shoulders flexed under freckled skin. An old puckered scar long faded to white across his shoulder now a mere remnant from his past life. Underneath the soft exterior of the doting father he’d become still lurked the shadow of the hellion youth he’d once been.

Delicate hands slithered around his middle running along the breadth of him stroking at the hair on his chest. Her warm cheek came to rest, nestled between his shoulder blades. Sighing affectionately, her breath tickling his skin. Sebastian leaned into her touch, even after all these years he still felt sparks.

"If you keep scowling your face will get stuck like that,” she chided. Sebastian snorted twisting in her hold to face her. She’d loosened the soft braids she usually wore at her temples so her hair hung loose around her shoulders. She smiled up at him, crooked and his heart stuttered in an unsteady rhythm.

“Alice, go down without any fuss?”

“Has she ever?” She quirked an eyebrow at him far more amused by their daughters' antics than cross. “Caught her trying to get into your study after I put her to bed - again. Luckily she isn’t half as stealthy as she is mischievous.”

Sebastian grinned at her, arching his eyebrows. “She gets that from you.”

“I think Scribner would have disagreed.” She said rolling her eyes. “But something tells me it's not Alice's nocturnal antics causing that face. Tell me what's wrong my love?"

Placing a warm hand against his cheek fingers combing through the hair on his chin. He shifted uncomfortably under the weight of her gaze. Failing to suppress the heat he could feel rising in his cheeks most likely staining the tops of his ears.

"Nothing, Pet. I’m uh-” he hesitated, wincing slightly. Perhaps she hadn’t noticed. And is she hadn't, he was reluctant to point it out. Lest it change the way she looked at him. She was still as radiant the first time he'd laid eyes on her but Sebastian was a far cry from the roguish boy who'd made her heart race.

He leaned heavily into her hand resting against his chin. Letting the tenderness of her touch and softness of her gaze quell the unease. “Just carrying a bit more timber than I'm used to. I hadn’t noticed how much the years had caught up to me. After two kids and all."

"You’ll always be the same stubborn and reckless boy to me," she wrapped her arms around him tighter. It was only a chaste peck but an inexplicable blush darkened her cheeks as she nibbled on the inside of her cheek contemplatively. Her hands grazed along Sebastian’s freckled shoulders, through the sparse hair on his chest nails scratching softly. "But I must admit…I rather like you like this. Broad. Manly.”

" Oh - Do you now?" he smirked. Admiring the flush that had stained her cheeks at her admission.

Seeming to take an unnatural amount of interest in the pattern of their curtains she averted her eyes blushing deeply. "Yes. I do. And don't let it go to your big head.”

Far too late for that. After all these years she should really have known better. His chest already swelling with pride a smug smile pulling at the corner of his freckled cheeks.

Tugging at the sleeve of her pale blue dress. The cotton slipped away to expose more of her skin. Sebastian snaked his hand around her waist to settle on the small of her back. Ducking his head to pepper kisses along the dip of her shoulder.

The faint smell of mallowsweet that always clung to her hair far sweeter than any perfume; a herb balm that had soothed and tamed his stubborn heart. Heat rose where he'd exposed her as Sebastian's mouth worked its way down her neck towards her clavicle. Her fingers pressed a little harder into his flesh feeling the tight coils of muscle that still lurked underneath.

Despite Sebastian's intention of letting his wife thoroughly enjoy the body, she found so desirable. She seemed distracted. Her breathing hitched a little as he grazed his teeth over her delicate throat. Sucking in just a way that would usually drive all the thoughts from her pretty head - that was not the case tonight.

“Besides - it's not like I look the same as I did before Alice and Sam.”

"Mmm, but watching you carry my children is one of life's greatest pleasures. If it's possible - you're more beautiful now than you've ever been.”

“Do you ever think about…”

She trailed off. Mouth opened and closed lamely as she searched for the words her eyebrows furrowed.

“Having another one?”

The high-pitched and uncharacteristically nervous noise of agreement she emitted made Sebastian pause his efforts to adorn her shoulder with dark love bites which were now blooming like wild grapes.

It was rare to see his wife nervous. Even rarer still for her mind to be elsewhere when it came to their marital relations. But he could understand her trepidation; it wasn’t as if either of their children had exactly been planned.

Before either of them were born he often wondered if they should have been parents. Not a single guardian between them to cobble together any semblance of what a parent should be. A trail of lost souls he'd not been able to protect.

Hazy memories of love weren't exactly a blueprint for success.

So Sebastian packed those feelings away even before he'd let them fully bubble to the surface. Resigned perhaps to the fact that although she may have fallen in love with the rough-edged boy he’d been; she'd still bore witness to the worst of him. A dark unsightly stain on his soul he kept cloistered away but they both knew would never leave him. Or her.

And why would either of them want to burden a child with him as their father; or her with his last name? It did not do to dwell on something Sebastian never thought he’d be able to have.

Then one day their world shifted and as willfully unprepared as they’d been for it; so did they.

Alice bloomed in the cracks of space in their lives they hadn’t known something had been missing. But perhaps had always left vacant and wanting for her.

Sam, followed so shortly after. Alice - barely a year old when they’d realised three would quickly become four.

By then, Sebastian had put to rest that gnawing anxiety that told him perhaps they should have never been parents. Fatherhood suited him. Soothed an old ache that had been throbbing since the passing of his own and now he wore it like a familiar coat.

He allowed himself to bask in the elation of their growing family; in a way, he’d not been able to with Alice. Not only taking pride in his wife, who practically glowed more beautiful than he’d ever seen her; but pleasure in watching her stomach swell once again with his child.

So much in fact, he lamented over the missed opportunity for what it would be like to take her with the sole intention of filling her with life. Could practically taste it every time he felt her unravelling on his cock. Dragged his feet at the apothecary when she asked him to purchase extra dandelion root for her monthly brew in the years that followed.

Already Sebastian could feel his blood rushing south at the thought. Inhaling sharply, calming his heart which was now thumping hard against his sternum as that familiar desire pooled.

“I love our family. Alice and Sam, are plenty troublesome and we have our hands full as it is,” he began carefully.

Sebastian cupped her chin, shifting her soft gaze to his. The smile he wore, genuine if a little weak. What he said was true. Sebastian did not wish to burden her with making such a decision simply to satisfy his elicit fantasies. He would not begrudge her if she didn’t want another child after she’d given him so much - more than he’d ever let himself hope for.

But she visibly deflated with his words. “Oh…so you wouldn't want another one?”

“No! I mean- not ‘ no’ . Merlin, it’s quite the opposite. In fact, I think I’ll always want more ,” Sebastian spluttered. Tongue tied and feeling the opportunity slipping through his fingers Sebastian took a breath to right himself. “Neither of us has much in the way of family outside of the one we made for ourselves - each child you give me is the greatest blessing I never thought I’d have. I’d love nothing more than to grow the family that we created.”

“I just want to know you're sure. You don't have to just because I want one.”

“There is nothing within my power that I would not give you. But, trust me love there are other reasons it appeals to me.”

“Oh?”

Hands glided down her spine grabbing the soft curve of her backside. Her eyes widened as he pulled her flush against his body where she could feel the growing bulge press against her stomach. Tucking a lock of her hair behind her ear, Sebastian ducked his head to nip gently at her earlobe before he whispered.

“Getting to fuck you purely with the intention of filling you with my seed. Watching you swell with another of my children. Breeding you. ” His voice, a low rumble reverberating from deep in his chest. Domineering. Predatory. Every point his body was pressed against hers felt like a fire that ignited a desire that lay dormant inside him. Desperate to claw its way out. Claim her as his - again . "Wearing the evidence under those pretty dresses of yours for everyone to see. So they know exactly what you let me do to you. Who you belong to.”

A visible shiver ran down her spine. Goosebumps prickling across her skin at the filth of his words. Feeling pressed hard against her stomach exactly how much the idea appealed to him.

“Sebastian-”

“Tell me you want it and it’s yours,” he murmured huskily against her neck. Nipping at that spot below her jaw he knew made her knees buckle.

His little witch had never been the obedient sort, as wild and stubborn as a poorly bottled lightning. But after all these years together - Sebastian knew exactly which buttons to push. How to make her laugh so hard her cheeks ached from smiling; a sound so perfect it washed his worries away like a tide. The ones that made rage; burn so fiercely he was reminded she was barely a witch at all but a dragon merely playing at domesticity.

Most favourably to Sebastian were the ones that turned every rational coherent thought in her head into a blinding fog of lust.

He trailed kisses across her skin, her pulse quickening under the tender brush of his lips. An eager whine slipped from her throat. Hips pushing against his in search of friction to soothe the heat pooling in her abdomen.

“Yes- fuck. Please, I want that. Another baby. Your baby.”

The choked sound that clawed its way out of Sebastian’s throat sounded far from anything human. Somewhere between a groan and a growl.

Wasting not a second longer he grasped her hips lifting her swiftly as if she weighed nothing at all. Thighs wrapped tightly around his hips as she moulded into him. Heat radiated from her core barely concealed behind the thin fabric of her undergarment.

Fingers tangling in his hair, she pulled his lips forcefully to hers. Kissing him greedily. Tongue delved between his parted lips as if he were the air she breathed.

From the way she ground her hips insistently, his wife cared little if it drove him to distraction; she knew there was no way Sebastian would let her fall.

Carrying her over to the bed to practically launch her down onto the mattress. Hooded eyes, devoured every inch of her husband standing above her. Her dress dishevelled had ridden up to expose the tops of her thighs which squeezed together in anticipation. Sebastian palmed his hard length through biting hard on his lip to stifle a moan.

Her nimble fingers came quickly to fumble with the buttons of her dress. Sebastian batted her hand away with a grunt to tear into them himself. His mouth trailed kisses further down her body with every inch he exposed.

Stopping as in his journey towards her core to pay particular attention to the soft curve of her belly. She whined under every press of his lips against her stomach squirming impatiently under Sebastian with the need for him to fill the womb he worshipped so reverently.

Sebastian pulled her hips sharply towards the edge of their bed dropping to his knees between her spread legs. Folds already glistening with unrestrained desire. Sebastian ran the tip of his nose through the sparse hairs. The heat of his breath teased against her growing slick. Shivering with anticipation her hips bucked craving - no, needing Sebastian to provide relief to the ache between her legs.

“Sebastian - please,” she whined.

“Impatient,” he scolded. Despite his own clothed erection strained against his trousers twitching desperate to be buried inside his wife’s impossibly tight core. But to Sebastian there no more perfect sight than her laid out before him. Bare, flushed and eyes darkened with desire. A nymph from some Greek tragedy he hadn’t tamed; rather merely a disciple come to worship at her altar. “Such a good girl. Already so wet for me.”

Her fingers tangled harshly in his hair hips bucking as Sebastian at last ended her torment. Licking a broad stripe with the flat of his tongue across her weeping entrance. Her head fell back in a broken whine finally relieving her from her torture. Sebastian released a groan of his own against her folds, lapping more needly at the growing slick. Savouring every drop she offered him. A man lost in a desert and her his bountiful oasis.

He knew her body better than he knew his own. Chasing her keening mewls a wordless plea for more, pleasure only he could offer her as he flicked and curled his tongue against the hooded bundle of nerves. Releasing his grip on her hip to slide his fingers into her tight heat. Savouring how her fluttering walls gripped him as he worked her open with every pump and curl of his fingers.

Her back arched, legs shaking the cool satin sheets scrunched in her fists as she writhed in ecstasy. Clinging desperately to them a last bastion of as she teetered on the edge of oblivion.

He chanced a glance up at her, mouth still servicing her fervently. Their eyes locked her voice caught on a silent plea for release. Sebastian sucked. Devouring her quivering clit and she broke.

Screaming curses and praise to forgotten deities her body jerking to grind frantically against his tongue. Sebastian’s hips rutted forward into nothingness as her body clenching around his fingers as he brought her to climax. His own need growing almost unbearable as he felt her dissolved into pleasure needing to feel that pulsing release around his cock not just his fingers.

His patience was now paper thin, he needed to be inside of her and from the way her fingers tugged at his chestnut hair impatiently as her orgasm ebbed - she seemed to agree.

Bed springs creaked as he crawled onto the bed beside her. He slid his hands along the dip of her waist gripping her soft flesh to flip her onto her stomach.

She peering back at him from over her shoulder. Her lips were swollen, her hair in a wild tangle but her eyes burning into him as if she could set him alight - daring him to take her as she arched her hips up and back towards Sebastian.

Gripping her side he bared down on her. Large body resting heavily against her back she curled up into him sighing contentedly at the feeling of his weight resting against her.

How many wizards had coveted her affection since their school days? Cursed the very ground Sebastian walked on because since the day she’d become his. His cock achingly hard grinding against her arse at the mere thought of her wearing the reminder to them all exactly who she belonged to under her dress.

He scrambled with the buttons on his breeches before pulling them off entirely cock springing free arching proudly and achingly hard. Slit glistening in anticipation that coil inside of him already tightly wound at the mere thought of filling her.

"Going to fuck even more of my kids into you," he purred low in her ear as he settled himself between her legs dragging the head of his cock through her spit-slicked folds. Their nerves practically vibrating with carnal anticipation.

She cried out, broken and rasping as Sebastian finally pressed into her with a strong deliberate thrust. Stretching her open inch by inch groaning low, his head falling against her back when he buried himself inside her to the hilt. The sheen of sweat coating her back salty on his tongue as he mouthed brainlessly at her bare flesh.

“Fuck,” she hissed as Sebastian began to cant his hips in deep maddening strokes. He hadn't expected such a lustful fog to overcome him. Like some primitive part of his brain had overcome him and now he was entirely consumed with the thought of her. Filling her with seed.

His eyes flicked up catching their reflection in the mirror. Sebastian groaned her name as he watched himself pounding into her relentlessly. Tiny body nestled under his own her spine curved in pleasure but her face was buried in the sheets. Stifling the delicious sounds of ecstasy she only made for him into the mattress.

Sebastian grunted in annoyance. Snapping his hips harder she only seemed to bit down harder on the sheets.

He didn’t just want her to feel him filling her with life; he wanted her to bear witness to it.

Tucking his arm around her waist he hauled her up flush against his body. Her yelp of surprise dissolving into a moan as the new angle had her sinking deeper onto his cock. Her back pressed against his chest she rolled her hips, eyelashes fluttering as his crown teased against her sweet spot. Sebastian curled a possessive hand around her throat to keep her upright. The other kneaded her breast, rolling the pert peak between his fingertips.

Despite the utterly filthy position in which he took her. Sebastian’s hands were gentle, large arms cradling her body. He whispered sweet reverent praise and encouragement into her ear with every roll of her as she sought her pleasure.

“Look at you,” he whispered. Pressing a kiss to her temple coaxing her to look and witness how fucking perfect she was. Her eyes cracked open, gaze settling on the mirror in the corner of the room. Sebastian's reflection grinned at her. She blushed deeply at the sight but she made no move to cover herself. Eyes devouring the sight of her bare, legs spread wide and impaled on Sebastian's cock.

“Fucking look at you.” He punctuated the statement with a sharp buck of his hips into her cunt.

She whined desperately with every deep maddening thrust. She leaned back further into his embrace, head tipped back in a wanton moan but she didn't tear her eyes away. As if wishing to burn this moment into her mind. Cunt fluttering greedily around his cock, coaxing more slick onto his shaft.

“Fuck- you're taking me so well. Do you- fuck. Feel how deep I am inside you?” Sebastian groaned at the slight swell of her stomach. He released her breast hand ghosting down the planes of her stomach. “I can feel you clenching around me - fuck . Feel where I'm going to fill you. Where you'll grow our child.”

He barely recognised the cadence of his voice, low gravelly more akin to a growl than anything human. He pressed a little harder onto her stomach. Feeling the head of his cock against his palm, he groaned. Forehead fell against the crook of her neck pumping into his palm as he ground into her with deep thrusts. Gently teasing his thumb over the blunt head through her soft stomach.

She whined readily, shivering with pleasure sinking deeper onto his cock with every needy roll of her hips. Blood pounding in his ears Sebastian could feel the pressure mounting. He released his hold on her throat, taking hold of her hips so hard he knew even if his seed did not take her skin would still wear the marks for days.

Leaning back so she could rest against him, his toes curling in the sheets as he found purchase to thrust into her frantic. Her arm wrapped around his neck keening and whimpering with every strong thrust.

“Please Seb- fuck. I need,” she rasped. Too deliriously close to the edge to tell him what she needed. What they both craved so desperately.

“Tell me what you want, darling,” he grunted. Peppering kisses behind her ear, along the curve of her jaw. “Do you want me to come deep inside you? Breed you? Make you mine again?”

“Yes. Gods. Yes!”

“Tell- tell me,” he grunted. Clutching her hips to pound up into her brutally. The coil inside of him tightened, feeling his release rushing in. Visions narrowing and cock twitching eagerly. “Tell me how much you want it.”

“I-I want your seed. Your baby. You. Please, Seb- fuck,” she cried out.

Deft fingers found her clit. Still so sensitive from how he’d already made her quake. Sebastian circled the swollen nub and her head tipped back in a husky moan. Grinding her hips against him, Glistening with a thin sheen of sweat everywhere their bodies were intertwined.

“You're going to look so perfect. So bloody beautiful carrying our child. My child.”

She gasped as that familiar feeling pooled in her core. “Fuck- Seb please. I'm close.”

“Fuck I can feel you. So tight - around my cock. Let go for me, my love. And I will ah - for you,” Sebastian groaned into the shell of her ear.

Despite his vision blurring as Sebastian teetered so close to the edge of nirvana, he couldn't tear his eyes from their reflection. He doubted there was a more mesmerising and all-consuming sight than watching her come completely undone. Head tipped back all words stolen by how expertly he fucked her so a tune to her body. Beads of sweat clung to every curve and dip on her.

Shimmering. Beautiful. His .

Teasing faster circles over her still-swollen clit. Bucking into her hard and faster. Biting down on his lip so hard he tasted the metallic tang of blood on his tongue as he desperately held back his release. A final uneven snap of his hips burying his cock deep inside her climax broke.

She cried out suddenly; a clap of thunder announcing a storm. Like the heavens split apart and she submitted to drown in the waves of her pleasure. Nails clawing against his shoulder. Cunt tightened and spasmed as she sucked him in impossibly deeper as Sebastian followed her. Pulling her hips down as her came hard.

Her name and filthy praise erupted from his lips in a sound he could only liken to a primal whine. Spilling his seed hot and purposeful into the deepest part of her channel. Grinding against her arse, Sebastian milked every last drop from his pulsing cock.

Willing it to take root.

Her body slumped against him boneless but every nerve alight and still shivering from the last throws of pleasure as her orgasm ebbed. Rasping in broken pants as she tried to recapture her stolen breath.

He kissed her cheek, tender, lovingly and with as much gentleness as Sebastian could muster with how he practically rattled with how hard his heart was hammering against his ribs; he shifted strong arms guiding her onto her side. Cock still sheathed inside of her. Unwilling to remove himself from her his mind still overcome and entirely consumed with the need to fill her with life.

Sebastian pushed his release deeper inside her with shallow thrusts. She whimpered hips bucking away from the overstimulation of the motion. He peppered soft apologetic kisses across the small bruises beginning to bloom around her throat wrapping his arms around her and cradling her body to him tighter. But Sebastian held firm. Hand pressing against her stomach a silent prayer. Willing his seed to take.

"I love you. You're going to look so beautiful. Full of my baby," he cooed, with a languid roll of his hips. Tucking her a sweaty lock of tangled hair behind her ear. She sighed, angling her face to meet his gaze. Dishevelled. Swollen lipped. Beautiful. Her soft crooked and familiar yet it still takes his breath away.

He'd once thought the greatest thing he could do was burn the world for her. But now he knew - It was to build one.

A life. A legacy. One that they forged and fought for together. Everything, as long as it was with her.

Despite his efforts to keep her full of him, he could already feel it leaking out around his shaft, hot and slick, coating her thighs. The crown of his cock dragged over her sweet spot before pushing his further in. “In fact - why stop at one this time? Twins do run in my family.”

“I don't think that's how it works-” she stuttered. But her core clenched greedily around his cock. Still stiff and firmly inside of her, it twitched with approval.

“Care to test the theory?”

#i headcannon dadbod seb so hard #daddy!seb #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #sebastian x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow smut

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erodasfishtacos · 8 months

Text

The Body Factory (sexclubowner!h)

Hellloooo!

It’s been a long while since I posted here. I am still going strong on patreon with 4-5 one shots a month with anywhere from 8 to 14k words usually (sometimes more) + blurbs. I decided to released one of my new tropes, just part one on here and if it sounds good maybe consider joining for $3USD a month to read more parts of this and many others coming up!!!

prompt: yn doesn’t feel fufilled in her relationship and so her fiancé, Arthur, comes up with an idea to help but it doesnt turn out as either of them expected aka sex club owner!h

word count: 8k

warnings: under-negotiation, power play, mean h, choking, safeword, cheating but not really yet

🛑 there is a scene that could potentially be triggering so i am going to put a brief summary at the end of the fic if you’d like to check whether it’s a appropriate read for yourself. 🛑

Author’s Note: I have had this idea on my mind for months and have been so extremely excited to share it with you. It has really really been inspiring to me as I don’t have a trope like this. I hope you enjoy.

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was a safe choice.

It’s why when YN’s father introduced them, it didn’t really seem like an option to turn down the invitation to go out to dinner at the swankiest restaurant in town.

The date had been so incredibly unexciting that YN had no doubt that he would not ask for a second one.

They had nothing in common, the space was often filled with an awkward silence, and averted gazes to the walls or out the window next to their seating.

Arthur was nice.

Arthur was polite, he held the door and paid for the bill before walking her to her car with the chaste kiss to her cheek.

It absolutely boggled her mind when her father informed her the next day that Arthur had told her that he had an amazing time and was going to ask her for a second date in the next upcoming days.

YN hated the mere idea of disappointing her parents, she had already let them down enough with her career choice not to join the family business

:readmore:

instead becoming neonatal nurse, despite that being a massive accomplishment, it wasn’t praised because she didn’t go to be a lawyer like both her mother and father.

It felt like most of the time she was on thin ice with her parents because of her education and career choice, even down to the car she drove (they thought it was too sporty and not practical enough) which left her in a precarious position.

She relied on them for help with her student loans.

YN was still trying to get her feet on the ground with her apartment landlord just bumping up her rent by nearly five-hundred pounds, her car note, among all the other things that came with being an adult that she wasn’t financially capable of managing yet.

Her parents agreed to pay for her school loans.

However, it came with silet threat of staying in their good gracious or they would cut her off at any moment, they had threatened it enough when she got into nursing school and informed them that she would be attending, she must have heard them threaten her inheritance half a million times.

Arthur was her ticket back into her parent’s limelight.

He was fresh out of law school but he was incredibly intelligent, good at what he did, and had multiple firms vying for him to join their legal council but he had chosen YN’s family’s business because of their well-known reputation.

Arthur came from old money, which had given him an extremely privileged life and a headstart into success as soon as he was born.

He was the great-grandson of an oil tycoon whom he had reaped the benefits ever since.

The second date happened, then the third, then the fourth.

No spark.

No chemistry.

Atleast on YN’s end because Arthur seemed happy as a clam in their relationship, he praised YN to anyone who would listen, and was consistently bragging about their life to anyone that would listen to him.

He was nice to her.

He remembered important dates, brought her flowers to work, and had dinner made when she walked in the door on nights that she worked late shifts and he got home before her.

Time passes and they celebrate their first year anniversary, then their second, then their third.

On the fourth was when he got down on one knee and professed his love to her in front of all their family and friends on Christmas Day at an extravagant party at his parent’s estate.

The diamond ring that he slid onto her finger was ridiculous, too big to not just be flaunting wealth, and it wasn’t a style that she liked but she lied and told him that she loved it.

There was an emptiness in her chest when he proposed, she was teary-eyed but she couldn’t determine whether it was from happiness or dread that she was going to spend the rest of her life with the man in front of her.

It wasn’t his fault in the slightest.

Arthur was just Arthur.

He lacked depth, there was nothing behind his twinkling brown eyes beside law, money, and judgement.

Arthur treated her nicely consistently, they barely ever fought, and he never raised his voice at her.

When he got frustrated, he just got an exasperated tone and took time to himself in his office until he had calmed down enough to talk.

But that was once in a blue moon.

They’ve never had a blow-out because he was so agreeable and accommodating.

That’s exactly what was missing from their relationship.

YN didn’t crave toxicity, not one bit, she wanted a healthy relationship with positive communication, understanding, and all the things that make that up.

YN did crave excitement, humor, sexual tension, and the type of relationship that kept her on her toes, got her adrenaline pumping and making her stomach turn in nervous knots because she didn’t always know what to expect out of her partner.

Arthur was as predictable as a clock, had no spontaneity up his sleeve, and his sense of humor was nonexistent.

YN had a partner that she’d been with in college named Klein.

He wasn’t the love of her life, not by a long shot, but he had been wild, on the edge of insane half-of-the-time, and always kept their relationship exciting.

He would show up at her part-time cafe job, with a fake excuse to her boss about a death in his family, and he needed her support.

When YN would walk out to his motorcycle with him, concerned about his grandmother’s death, he would only smile at her, inform her that his grandmother has been dead for fifteen years, and that he was going to take her on a hike to see a waterfall she’d mentioned wanting to see once in passing.

But then there was their sex life, it was phenomenal and unlike the few half-hapzard experience she had before him.

He was confident, dominant, and introduced her to things that she used to not even have the nerve to say out loud let alone do.

It was him who introduced her to BDSM and they explored it for nearly two and a half years of their relationship.

YN did research while they were together and after the fact, she had even attended a few virtual training sessions to learn about correct techniques, safety precautions, and learning the dynamic of power play which engrossed her to no end.

However, when Klein requested they open their relationship, that had been such an unexpected turn-off that she no longer felt the connection that was there before.

The end of the relationship was amicable, they were still friends on social media and liked each others posts but it was at that point they realized they wanted different things and they couldn’t provide that to one another.

Where Klein wanted flexibility, uncertainty, and fluidity.

YN wanted regimen, structured, and a deep sense of connection with one person.

She did not want multiple doms nor did she want her dom to have multiple submissives.

She wanted all the attention on her, her dom would be absolutely captivated by her and be so connected to her physically, mentally, spiritually that they only want her.

Her ideal dom would never mention sharing.

Which isn’t to shame it because it was more common than not to have an open relationship, partner sharing, and swapping.

YN loved the idea of becoming comfortable with someone enough that she could be a brat which she wasn’t an easy submissive she had come to learn.

Her dominant had to work for her submission, sometimes she crumbled quickly and other times it took multiple punishments until the smirk was wiped from her face and replaced with tears on her puffy cheeks from the pinpricks of pain.

After Klein, she had gone on a few dates, some she even hooked up with but she never clicked enough with them to talk about anything like that.

And so she wrapped it up into a nice, neat box and tucked it into the back of her mind because she would find the right partner who would be compatible sexually with her.

Right?

Arthur and her had no sexual chemistry.

Arthur was just as polite in the bedroom as he was outside of it, he never put her in a unique position, and preferred to rotate between the missionary and doggy style.

He would occasionally go down on her but he didn’t know what he was doing so it didn’t feel like much of anything as most of the time he couldn’t even locate her clit.

Which meant fingering was out of the question because he didn’t even know the g-spot existed.

Anytime she managed to orgasm, it was from her own hand, getting herself off because she was past the point of asking him to try to do it.

Arthur did not have a high sex drive and YN felt guilty for being thankful for it.

He wasn’t doing anything wrong, he was trying, and it was so unsatisfying that YN felt like her skin itched sometimes because she hadn’t realized until Arthur how much she craved sexual intimacy with her significant other.

Again, Arthur initiated once a week, sometimes twice or sometimes not for a few weeks when his work is really busy.

YN was six years into a relationship of unfilled desire, disconnect, and a lack of satisfaction which she would have never seen for herself at only being twenty-nine years old.

The wedding was set for fourteen months away, at a vineyard on the coast of Italy.

It was decided by everyone but her as with most things she felt like nowadays.

YN had been scrolling through a blog post when something caught her eye.

It was written by a female who had a similar lack of connection with her partner in the bedroom but wanted more.

The writer had described that as soon as she asked if they could experiment with BDSM that their relationship had completely shifted, they were more in love than ever, and their sex life was more amazing than it had been in nearly a decade.

It was the motivation that YN needed to have the conversation with Arthur, with the hope that it would ignite a flame that had yet to be struck between the two of them.

YN loved Arthur, she wanted to be in love with him but she couldn’t honestly say she was at this point in their relationship.

Arthur had been surprised by the conversation, over dinner one night, if the way he sputtered red wine onto his crisp white button-up was an indicator.

His eyes had gone wide in a look of almost horror and he cleared his throat a handful of times while they discussed it in more detail.

“I just feel like it would be something fun to try out,” YN tries to keep it casual, to not let on to how much she desired this or knew that she would already love it.

“Erm, yeah. I would be open to it,” Arthur had agreed sheepishly, putting down his fork and knife.

“No, I do not want you to feel pressured at all! I just -” YN begins to try to soothe because she had not meant to get such a reaction of concern more than lust out of her fiance.

He chuckles kindly, smiling at her as he reaches across the table to hold her hand, “We can try it, if that’s what you want. I am open to whatever will make you happy, sweetie pie.”

Sweetie pie….

YN tried not to blatantly cringe every time he called her that.

It did not work out.

They did not even get a few minutes into foreplay when Arthur backed out, saying that he just didn’t feel like he knew what to do, and that he’d prefer if they just did their normal thing.

YN agreed, trying to swallow the disappointed lump in her throat because she didn’t want to guilt him in to trying anything he wasn’t into.

They didn’t discuss it again after that for a long while.

Arthur wasn’t blind to the shift after that night.

He now knew that he was not satisfying a need that YN desired and she had just seemed more subdued since he had called it off but was trying to hide it because he knew that she wasn’t trying to make him feel bad about not wanting it.

It had been on his mind though.

“A sex club?” YN’s eyes nearly buldge from her sockets, puting down her glass of water and ignoring the splashes it leaves on her hand because what had Arthur just recommended they try?

“Yes. A BDSM club or a kink club they call it. Maybe if I see other people doing it or we get into the right atmosphere, it will work better. At least off the start?” Arthur seems just as nervous as her, he hadn’t touched his food.

“And…I just…” YN was at a loss for words because this is just the most unexpected turn of events.

“Maybe I can learn from others. Really get good at it for you, you know?” He suggests, his eyes looking anywhere but at hers.

“Yeah, yeah let’s do it.”

The Body Factory was the club that Arthur had decided after doing his research.

He needed somewhere secretive, exclusive, and with iron-clad NDA’s so that no one could use this against him in his profession which was fair enough.

That’s where The Body Factor came into play.

There were guidelines to a membership:

You must make over a hundred-and-fifty thousand pounds a year.

You were sign and resign an NDA every three months.

A deposit of ten thousand pounds, it will not be refunded if any rules or regulations are broken.

You will send in health screenings every two months, proof of birth control (if female), and a background check.

You may not belong to any other clubs during the time of your membership at The Body Factory.

YN was quite shocked that Arthur had dished out that amount of money on the deposit for something that they weren’t sure that they were going to like nor want to continue to visit even though the membership spans for a year at a time.

“If we go, hate it, and decide to never go back, just consider it a really expensive date night,” Arthur had assured her with a chuckle, she knew of his wealth but even this seemed a bit like frivolous spending but little did she know it was just his desperation to make her happy.

The club was in the packing district of all places, tucked back in between massive factories, some that were still open and operating, others that had been abandoned for years now.

It was actually in an old clothing factory that had been renovated to resemble any other high-end club, from the inside there would be no way that anyone could even tell except for the incredibly high ceilings at some points.

However, the location in the city and of building choice gave a lot of privacy of entering and exiting, it wasn’t advertised nor did it have any sign indicating of their presence.

It was a maze of alleyways until the entrance appeared, a dingy door that was rusted and gave no indication of what was inside, someone walking past would have never looked twice or thought anything of the building nor the entrance.

Everything was matte black, dark, and dimmed.

There were occasional deep emerald green accents but everything was sleek, modern, and simple but in the most elegant way as they walked in.

YN’s heart was in her throat.

Where people going to be fucking right when they walk in?

Or people being led around on leashes right off the bat?

Arthur may pass out.

However, there’s a front desk, almost like at an office with a woman dressed in a incredibly fitted sleek black dress with smooth, curled hair, and makeup like it was done by a professional, she had to be a model because she was gorgeous as she smiled widely and checked them in.

They had to show their licenses, hand over physical copies of their screenings, NDA’s even though they had to sign them virtually too.

There were two security guards in black suits with earpieces standing by large, heavy dark oak doors with their hands crossed in front of them.

This seemed like a movie or just not real with how sophisticated this whole process was.

“Enjoy,” Penelope, the receptionist had chirped with the whitest, most perfect smile she’d ever seen.

Arthur seemed a bit awestruck for a moment and YN couldn’t even fault him for it.

The two guards move aside to open the doors, nodding for them to go in before closing them firmly behind them.

YN finds herself reaching for Arthur’s hand, nervous and shaky with new experience anxiety and adrenaline that she was finally getting back into what she wanted even more so.

There were people mingling, sipping on drinks, and all fully clothed.

It wasn’t until Arthur informed her, “Play starts at ten, the first hour is to introduce, mingle, meet.”

Ah, that makes sense.

It almost builds the tension, YN feels like she can taste it on the tip of her tongue.

They walk over to the bar, another beautiful women greets them right away, laying a napkin down in front of both of them, “Newbies?”

“Yes,” Arthur nods, pointing to himself first, “I’m Arthur, this is YN, my fiance.”

The bartender quirks an eyebrow as she not-so-subtly scans them, “Nice to meet you two. I’m Raven. I bartend Friday through Sunday here. What are you drinking?”

“A moscow mule,” YN asks, maybe some alcohol will loosen her nerves.

“It’s a dry club, babe,” Raven smiles patiently as her long fingernails click against the smooth surface.

“Oh,” YN replies in surprise, looking behind her at the shelves only to see syrups for flavoring but no actual liquor bottles or draft taps to be seen, “A sprite?”

“Water, please,” Arthur adds as he rubs YN’s thigh, squeezing it in reassurance, “I forgot to tell you. No alcohol here. Everybody needs to be sober when playing.”

“That makes sense,” YN hums in agreement, never having actually thought about it much, but it could definitely get cloudy on consent when alcohol was being consumed in regards to playing which was a dangerous and unsafe mixture.

They sit, observed for a few minutes before a few people begin to flock towards them, greeting them and asking surface level questions until there’s a deep, almost eerie chime that echoes for a long moment through the club over the soft jazz.

It was signifying that the clock had struck ten.

Everyone quickly wraps up their conversations before moving to different areas of the rooms, some disappearing down hallways.

The atmosphere had changed significantly in a very quick spurt of time as people started undressing, kissing, moving as if they’d just gotten permission.

There was a couple of the couch across the room that Athur and YN were observing from their barstools.

The two started out slow, sensual, like any normal couple behind close doors but when the woman knots her hair into her partner’s hair and demands his mouth move lower, he obliges and Arthur gasps softly at the roughness displayed.

YN’s been aroused for the last five minutes of watching them but doesn’t make an effort to act on it, not yet atleast, and once the couple move so that the man is laying on the couch, the woman kneeling over his face, it changes her vantage point but it catches on something else.

In the corner, further back into the room, there was a man sitting in the corner where there was barely any lighting, dim and his goal was to obviously stay in the background.

No one was approaching him nor was he interacting with anyone else.

YN knew there was a no phone policy but this man was sat, scrolling boredly through his phone and only occasionally glancing up to observe the people in action around him before eyes dart back down like it wasn’t entertaining at all.

He wasn’t aroused, at least from what YN could see, and he was in a tight, well-fitted suit but his dress shirt was barely buttoned, open enough to show the definition of his pectoral muscles, the sharpness of his collarbones, and a variety of darkly inked tattoos.

He was fucking beautiful.

YN realizes she oogling him but can get away with it because it appears to Arthur that she’s still watching the couple like he is.

However, when the man looks up after a few moments once again, his eyes are instantly locked on YN.

She can’t tell what color they are from here but she knows they’re light, twinkling under the barely there light of a sconce on the wall and it’s smouldering as he doesn’t blink nor waver with embarrassment of being caught staring at her.

YN quickly diverted her eyes back to the couple, her heart was pounding, and a sense of thrill shot up her spine even though it was inappropriate.

She wasn’t here for new partners.

She was here to learn and explore with her own.

YN tries to play it casual when Raven refills the drink she nervously chugged, “Why does that guy have his phone?”

Raven’s eyes darted to the man before grinning, “That’s Harry. He’s the owner, my boss. He supervises the free play.”

“Free play?”

“Out in the common area, it’s considered free play. If you claim a room, you are in private play with whatever partners you bring back there. Harry just makes sure everything stays safe and consensual out here. He gets bored though and plays Candy Crush on his phone.”

YN cracks her own smile at that, trying to imagine the man trying to get rid of sugary sweets and getting frustrated when he loses a round.

“Does he not play?” Arthur asks curiously, now his attention has changed to Harry as well.

“Not often,” Raven informs them, leaning her elbow on the counter, “I can’t remember the last time he did. I’d say at least seven years ago, at least in the free play but he doesn’t reserve rooms or anything. He made it clear that he doesn’t find at least any of the current members interesting enough to engage with.”

“That’s interesting, considering he must have an interest in it, if this is his club,” Arthur replies to Raven before turning back to the scene of the couple, another member had joined the couple and was currently giving the male some startling rough looking bruised kisses and bites to his stomach and thighs.

Arthur was getting aroused by the look and feel of it, he reached over and brazenly took her hand, and led her to his groin where he was hard in his trousers, encouraging her to palm over him which she did as she tried to get into it.

This…This atmosphere, these people, they excited her.

Arthur still did not.

They manage to get to a couch, Arthur appears to be getting so turned on that foreplay isn’t in his realm of ideas because he’s hiking up YN’s dress around her hips and positioning her on top of him which is a new position (in all six years they’ve never done cowgirl) but still, her arousal is barely boiling above surface level.

YN licks her palm, reaching down to help moisten herself because Arthur was not doing anything to spark her to get wet.

It was actually making her more distressed that despite the scenario, she still didn’t feel the connection to her fiancé.

When she slides down, it’s fine, he was an average size so even without much lubrication, it didn’t feel like a stretch or burn when she started to move her hips but it wasn’t as pleasant as if she was sopping, dripping down her thighs.

Arthur glances to the side at one point, noticing that the male from the throuple was now pounding into the original partner with his had tight around her throat, pushing her further into the couch without mercy as she tried to whine through stutter breaths.

YN felt like she was being watched the entire time, which of course she was being watched by other members but it felt different, when she blinks around and notices that Harry has his gaze honed in on her with a twisted scowl of almost disapproval, it confuses her.

However, she’s brought back into the moment when Arthur pants out, “Can- I want to try that.”

When YN follows his gaze, he’s referring to the choking, and yeah, maybe that will light that match.

“Okay, yeah,” YN agrees as she brushes her hair off of her shoulders, wishing he would have taken this dress off of her instead of shoving it upwards where it felt confining.

Arthur smiles at her, leaning up to give her a chaste kiss which didn’t match their situation whatsoever that they were in at the moment.

YN was feeling anxious about the judgment other members might put onto them but not because she cared that people watched but because she knew Arthur and her were nowhere nearly as fluid, practiced, or elegant as the other members whom seemed to just melt into one another easily.

Arthur had never tried it before but his hand came up to her throat, he’s getting close to his own release which means that he’s not as focused, eyes getting a glazed over appearance.

YN soon realizes that he has no idea what he’s doing as he begins to cut off her airway by cupping her throat in the center instead of at the sides.

It hurts, she can’t breathe but not the way that feels tingly, excited, it feels like he could quite possibly suffocate her because of his carelessness.

They had talked about proper methods and he clearly hadn’t retained that information.

A few black dots begin to dance across her line of vision and her body starts to trigger a flight or fight response which she wants to use her safe word but she can’t speak.

YN takes to dig her nails into his hand but he doesn’t seem to understand that it’s not out of lust.

A true fear begins to take hold that something horrible will happen to her in less than a minute.

He’s truly going to injure her.

YN is in a full-fledged panic induced state.

Then suddenly, without warning, a strong arm is being wrapped around her middle and a big, ring-clad hand grips Arthur where it was around her neck so hard he yelps in pain and releases his grip.

The person is physically lifting YN off of Arthur’s lap, trying to steady her on her feet but they feel like jello and she feels light-headed, the room wouldn’t stop spinning.

“Are you fuckin’ kidding me?” The person’s voice is deep, raspy, and incredibly pissed off, “What the fuck is your problem?”

YN can’t even bring herself to look at Arthur right now, her full support into Harry’s side as she notices the two securities guards walking in.

“C’mon, let me sit you down. You’re okay but I want to check you out, alright? Yeah, c’mon, pet,” He encourages in a much softer tone, gentle and trying to comfort me as she struggles to catch her breath.

It takes a long second to realize that she’s crying, tears streaming down her cheeks, and fuck, she is so embarassed as every other member had stopped playing.

“We’re done for the night. We’ll re-open tomorrow at the normal hours of operation,” Harry announces to the room at large before looking to Raven, “Go close down the private rooms.”

Raven nods, no longer as smiley and bubbling but an expression of concern as she watches what’s going on with YN.

“Hey, darling. Can you tilt your head up?” Harry asks quietly once he sits her down in the same corner that he had been in, away from the group.

YN whines because her neck is aching, she doesn’t want to do anything as the drop in adrenaline has made her more exhausted than she’s felt in a long time.

“I know, I know,” Harry simpers in an unpredictably cooing tone, he taps his thumb on her chin to signal her to tilt it up and she obliges.

Harry prods gently at her neck, focusing on the center where the pressure has been, “Any sharp pains? Anything feel off or wrong like you need to go to the hospital?”

YN shakes her head, a fresh round of tears.

She knew that she wasn’t injured or seriously hurt.

YN felt more traumatized mentally than anything else.

“I need words, want to hear your pretty voice,” Harry orders in a honey sweet tone, eyes hyper-focused on her like they were in the beginning of the night.

His eyes were green.

Close to the accent color of the club.

“I’m okay,” YN manages to speak out, throat dry and scratchy.

Raven appears with a glass of water to hand to Harry before giving them their space again.

YN is about to reach for the glass but Harry is already moving it towards her lips for her, “Drink f’me.”

It’s strangely intimate as he tilts the glass, eyes watching her carefully and a sense of guilt sets in that she likes that Harry is tending to her, giving her his full attention.

“Is this a common occurrence? Between you two?”Harry doesn’t sound as kind anymore, his jaw muscle twitches slightly.

“Um, no. We came here to explore. I’m very much into this world and he isn’t. He’s told me he’s done his research in his free time but -“

“You’re telling me that you’ve never negotiated nor tried something like this and he full fledge tries choking?” Harry interrupts, outraged from where he stands up from squatting in front of her, “Did you ask or plan for that?”

YN shakes her head, a bit embarrassed that she was coming off as an amateur to someone…she felt an attraction to, felt intimidated by, and Arthur had ruined their experience here.

“No. We tried spanking a few times but he backed out. We were just supposed to come here to watch others so he could visual what all this looked like before putting it into action-“

Harry doesn’t let her finish as he storms away from her, his glare set right on Arthur who was sheepishly sitting back at the bar and nursing a drink as Raven talked to him.

YN’s heart rate starts to rise again when Arthur tenses, clearly being chewed out by Harry before her fiancé gets off his barstool and follows the club owners lead down the hallway.

YN rushes to the bar, Raven is already pouring her another sprite, “Calm down. He’s not going to hurt him or anything. They just need to have a discussion on whether or not Harry will revoke his membership.”

It feels ruined and it never even started.

All she can think about is that despite for a short amount of time she was getting what she asked from Arthur, there was still no god damn spark.

After a good half hour, the bar phone rings and Raven answers, murmuring a few words back into the receiver before having up.

“I’m going to take you back to his office now.”

Harry’s office was just as luxe, elegant as the rest of the club.

It was tense as soon as she stepped in the room and Raven left, closing the door behind her.

“I’ve decided not to revoke your joint membership after discussion with Arthur. However, there are contingencies if you would like to continue coming here. Are you willing to hear them? Arthur has already agreed to the terms.”

YN nods slowly, voice soft, “Yes.”

Harry keeps his face on her as he speaks, “I do not tolerate what happened here tonight in my club. Arthur has clearly proven that he isn’t educated enough to be able to have free access to the club and free play.”

“If you want to continue membership, Arthur will need to reserve a private room and lessons will be held until he fully grasps the concepts, displays understanding, and can play safely without supervision.”

“Who…Do you have instructors?” YN doesn’t think she wants another man involved in their sex life even in an educational aspect.

“Yes but I will be teaching the lessons,” Harry informs her, calm as ever, “I bring this up because I would need to be hands on, to demonstrate and display certain practice, power play dynamics but that is a lot to ask as I do not know your limits on sharing.”

YN’s speaking before she even realizes it, “Yes. We can do that.”

Harry’s lip quirks slightly before it disappears but it oddly enough seems like a reward.

“We can schedule. I will send the paperwork. I already have your questionnaires about hard limits, likes, dislikes, and willing to try. I want to make this clear, this will be purely educational and there will be no dynamic developing between me and you two.”

YN nods dumbly, at a loss for words because the mere thought of Harry domming her was a lick of a flame that she’d been missing so much.

“I will dom you with instructions interwoven for Arthur. We will try to keep everything minimal as I cannot stress enough that this is not anything but informative on my end to help improve your sex life as a couple.”

Three longs weeks pass before their first ‘lesson’.

Arthur voiced excitement about the instruction, never brought up the choking incident again, and never initiated any type of sex during this time either.

Everything was swept under the rug as usual in their relationship.

YN would never admit the fact that she had gotten herself off to the mere idea of Harry domming her because something about him had triggered something carnal, something near feral in her.

It’s more than she had even felt with Klein.

She knew it wouldn’t last forever but she was going to enjoy this to the best of her abilities.

YN only had excited nerves going into the night.

Harry had inquired more in the break of time about YN’s experience and was extremely pleased to realize that she wasn’t as much of a novice as he assumed.

Though she hadn’t experienced many partners or relationships within the community, her knowledge was expansive and deep enough to impress him.

Harry had texted her back with a simple message that had her core tingling enough that she had to rub her thighs together.

YN: Thank you for continuously checking in on my comfort and experience regarding these situations. I have many more concerns for Arthur as we’ve already discussed. If you have any more questions, feel free to ask!

Harry Styles: I do not plan to go easy on you. Unless you specifically want soft play for these experiences. I can be a softer dominant but my main modality is firm, mean, regimented with softer aftercare.

YN: You don’t scare me. ;)

She was already being bratty with him.

It sent a wave of good nerves through her as she waited for a reply to be sent to her inbox.

Harry Styles: It’s interesting that you’ve already started to decide to be bad for me when you don’t even know what I’m capable of, darling.

YN : I’m shaking.

YN: Terrified.

Harry Styles: I wish I could wrap my fingers around your throat right now. Show your fiancé the proper way to choke a god damn brat.

YN could feel herself pooling with arousal.

It felt a bit wrong but she reasoned enough with herself that it was all for the greater good of her relationship with Arthur but deep down she knew that was bullshit.

YN: You’re probably not much better.

Harry Styles: Quite honestly, haven’t worked with such a fucking disobedient bitch in a long time. I cannot wait to break you. A kitten who thinks they’re a big bad tiger.

YN: Fuck you.

Harry Styles: Kitty’s got claws.

Harry Styles: For now…

It felt bordering on inappropriate but YN reasoned again that Harry had made it clear that there isn’t anything happening, it is a strictly professional as a type of situation like this can be.

Saturday has come and YN wakes up to a text.

Harry Styles: Better wear something cute enough that I find you interesting enough to play with. Even if it’s just to teach.

YN rereads the message quite a few times and why is he so good at getting under her skin and she doesn’t even know him yet but it’s like he knows exactly how to wind her up.

YN: Black dress with tights.

Harry Styles: It’s good to know that you’re just another basic bitch.

YN: What will you be wearing then?

Harry Styles: That’s none of your fucking business. I call the shots, kitty. Not you.

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Good to know. Five spanks for the five emojis. Would you like to keep going?

She can’t even help herself

YN: 🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕🖕

Harry Styles: Noted.

YN wants to reply, knowing he’s probably waiting but a tiny sliver of guilt starts to creep in when she thinks about Arthur because though she’s trying to convince herself this is perfectly fine.

It’s not.

Not with the emotions it makes her feel.

She hasn’t felt them in so long.

It scares her.

“Sweetie pie, are you having second thoughts? Should be getting ready,” Arthur steps out of the walk-in closet, adjusting the sleeve of his button up.

“No!” YN replies much too quickly, her tone high pitch, “Um, I lost track of time. I’ll get ready now.”

“Okay, I’m excited for this new experience with you,” He smiles sweetly, stepping over to press a kiss to her forehead.

It’s affectionate, loving, and she’s still thinking of other things than her fiancé.

YN decides on a black wide leg trouser with a corseted bodysuit that gave her tits the perfect push-up, she’s spray a very thin most of body glitter on her chest, she knew it would sparkle in the dim lighting.

She considered wearing the dress and tights to spite him but whatever, she’d be less easy access for him.

Arthur held her hand tightly as they entered The Body Factory.

YN was already searching for Harry, barely waving to Raven as Arthur leads them over but she doesn’t want a drink, she wants to play.

However her fiancé guide her to a stool, ordering for both of them as Raven has a look of curiosity as she slides them in front of him.

“Does he come out and get us?” Arthur asks Raven, looking around he doesn’t see him either.

Raven bites her lip, shaking her head with a chuckle, “No, I take you to your reserved room when ten hits.”

“What is it?” YN asks, unable to read what is going on the bartender's mind.

This conversation didn’t seem particularly funny.

“Nothing really. Harry just hasn’t offered private lessons for at least eight or nine years. Normally when couples have an incident like you did, Harry revoked their memberships without a second thought,” Raven informs them as she picks at a spot on the smooth surface of the bar absentmindedly.

“Why us?” YN wonders out loud, why after all that time did he make an exception.

“I wish I knew,” The bartender shrugs neutrally.

The deep chime rings out about forty-five minutes later.

YN cannot decipher whether she wants to throw up or jump up and down with excitement.

Especially when Raven guides them down a long hallway, then into another corridor until they reach a door with a sign that warns, “No members past this point. Private access only.”

“Um-“ Arthur goes to point out the sign, he was a rule follower to his core.

“It’s Harry’s private playroom that members can’t use but again, this is special circumstances,” Raven’s voice is hushed as she leads them into a surprisingly minimal room.

There were cabinets built sleekly into the walls where all toys and accessories must be held, a matte black.

Everything matched but there was a bigger prominence of the green accents that were more subtle in the main areas.

The play bench hardware matches everything else but the cushion is a luxe emerald.

The bed was…unlike anything she had ever seen.

It was massive but fit well in the spacious room.

High posts on all four corners with subtle hooks to place restraints in.

The mattress looked fluffy and giving, it looked as if the sheets were a black silk but the duvet was a very muted pattern of black and green diamonds.

YN was in love with space.

It was so much more than she was expecting.

“Holy shit,” Arthur gapes at the elegance, clearly he had been expecting something different too.

“Okay, when Harry comes in, he will already be in the dom headspace and so he wants me to give you reminders. Harry will respect your hard limits as he’s reviewed them before the session. You have received a list of his so please do the same.”

“Just as you can safeword out at any time without consequences, Harry can as well. He will use the same ‘red’ if need be and will check your colors throughout to ensure safe play.”

“For this first lesson, Arthur you will sit and observe. Harry will display a safe, typical scene of play to understand what that looks like with whatever kind of submissive YN is. You may also use your safeword at any time to stop the play.”

YN swallows because would he allow that?

Surprisingly, Arthur’s face is still clear and happy as he starts to walk over to an overstuffed chair in the corner of the room and smiles at YN, “Can’t wait.”

YN raises a shocked eyebrow at his willingness but nods at Raven to show she understands.

They’re silent as they wait for Harry.

She wasn’t given instruction and because she was a bit nervous, she perched herself on Arthur’s lap as he rubbed her thigh and kissed her shoulder blades occasionally.

Then there’s a shuffle outside the door, the door knob twisting and the door opening.

Harry looked ethereal.

He wasn’t wearing a tailored suit like before but leather boots with a bit of a heel, form-fitting jeans that make his lean quads look biteable, and a plain black shirt.

His arms had even more beautiful ink than YN realized.

After Harry closes the door, his eyes lock on hers, not even acknowledging her fiancé’s presence.

“Stand up,” Harry orders loudly, a bit startling.

YN obeys instantly, her heart was pounding in her eardrums like waves of the choppy ocean.

A cruel smirk tilts on his lips when he scans her up and down.

“Did I strike a nerve, pet? This isn’t a black dress and tights. Are you already starting off so insecure? And you think you can handle me. What a cute, pathetic little kitten,” His voice is venomous, steady, and she’s clinging onto every word.

Arthur’s clearly confused but stays silent.

“I’m not pathetic,” YN argues shakily, it felt dangerous to get bratty so soon but it was her submissive profile and character, it came naturally.

Harry quirks a brow, “Sir.”

YN gives him her own confused look.

“I’m not pathetic, sir. Every time you speak, try again.”

“I’m not pathetic,” YN bleats easily, a flutter of her eyelashes.

Harry smiles like a goddamn wolf.

“Oh, you’re not? Let’s test that theory,” Harry draws as he takes a few steps backwards, towards the door, “Come to me.”

YN stands up, on wobbly legs, and begins to but is stopped in her tracks by his hard voice.

“Hands and knees. Crawl for me, I want to show your fiancé how pathetic you are for me,” Harry has a humor, an evil sense of it.

YN drops to her hands and knees, nearly panting already, and begins to move.

summary of triggering scene: YN’s fiance chokes her and though it’s completely consensual he doesn’t know what he’s doing and almost hurts her. YN cannot safeword out at the time but harry stops the scene.

#harry styles writing #harry styles #harry styles masterlist #harrystyles #harry styles boyfriend #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles one shot #harry smut #harry styles fanfic #harrystylesfanfic #fan fic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles au #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #patreon

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justauthoring · 10 months

Text

naturally [4a]

you fit into their little family perfectly - naturally. -> in which yuji wants his mom (a two part snippet)

a/n: this prompt (along with the next part) was sent in by a wonderful anon! so thank you :)) <3

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader, itadory yuji x f!reader (platonic)

Yuji had been kicking up a fuss all night.

What had started as a peaceful night amongst the three of you, with the intention of you watching a movie Yuji’s been asking about for a while, quickly turned into a situation you weren’t sure it was appropriate for you to insert yourself in.

It had all escalated quite quickly and now, alone while Nanami spoke with Yuji in his room, you were still shaking. You felt silly letting such a little thing get to you so much, but you couldn’t help the way you felt, let alone your emotions.

When you had started dating Nanami, you weren’t sure where the relationship would lead. You knew you liked him a lot and every time you spent time with him, those feelings would grow. He was chivalrous and kind and doting and everything you’ve ever wanted from a man. He was the perfect boyfriend.

Yet, when you’d told your girlfriends about him, their first questions had been; “isn’t it weird for you that he has a son?”

“You’re still so young. You don’t want to get tied down to a man with a child, do you?”

“Is the mother still in the picture? Those situations never work out.”

To put it plainly, they’d been rude and crude. You’d learned a lot about some of the people you’d thought were your friends that day and had made it clear that you had no problem with Nanami having a son or ever having to take care of his son for that matter. You loved Yuji just as much as you loved Nanami, just in different ways. They both meant the entire world to you and they’d become the family you thought you’d never have.

It has never bothered you.

Just like, on the opposite side of things, you’ve never once thought of yourself as Yuji’s mother. Nanami never spoke about her, had never explained anything about her other than the simple explanation that she wasn’t and would never be part of his or Yuji’s life. You hadn’t asked for any further clarification strictly because Nanami had looked deeply upset and uncomfortable when even just explaining the bare minimum and you hadn’t wanted to upset him further.

Your relationship with Nanami progressed and eventually you moved in–before you knew it, you were a part of each other’s lives completely. You’d moved your things over. His bedroom had turned into our bedroom… The kitchen had touches of your personality, the couch had a pillow or two you’d bought to decorate, his closet had your clothes in it now too. There were touches of you and your presence everywhere in the house.

You’d been worried at first–not wanting to impose but Nanami had assured you you weren’t.

Now though? Now you were sure you had.

That... that you were.

You’d tried to ask Yuji if he could try to sit still on the couch since he’d been fidgeting uncomfortably since you’d picked him up from daycare. He’d seemed upset when you first saw him but he hadn’t wanted to tell you, constantly brushing off your concern and you didn’t want to force yourself on the boy so you’d let it slide, figuring he’d at the very least tell his father

Except he hadn’t and hadn’t even really greeted Nanami when he got home. It was clear something was wrong but you weren’t sure what to do or if either of them even wanted you to do something so you’d left it alone and let Nanami take the lead.

It seemed asking Yuji to sit still, however, had been the last straw.

He’d instantly thrown a fuss, screaming out in frustration as he kicked out at you in response. You’d pulled back in disbelief, especially given that even when Yuji had thrown tantrums or been upset in the past (as it was normal for every child) he’s never quite reacted towards you like that before.

Nanami is up in a second, rushing over to Yuji to pull him away all whilst firmly telling Yuji he can’t react like that just cause he’s frustrated by something. It wasn’t that that upset you necessarily–besides the initial shock of it, you could tell Yuji was just overstimulated and frustrated and he was still such a small boy that you understood he just doesn’t know how to express his feelings properly.

It’s his words next that hurt you.

“She’s not my mom!” He’d bellowed, voice screeching in distress, “I want my mom! I don’t want you, I want mama!”

Nanami had glanced at you but you’d just stared back at Yuji in disbelief, eyes wide and lips left parted as Nanami quickly pulled him away and down the hall into his bedroom. You could faintly hear Nanami reprimanding Yuji but couldn’t make out what either of them were saying.

And you’d been sitting on the couch in silence since. It’s been twenty minutes since Nanami pulled Yuji into his bedroom, and they’d gone quite five minutes ago as opposed to the muffled conversation you’d heard earlier from the both of them.

You feel like you want to cry, but the tears won’t fall and if you’re being honest you’re not even sure why. Has Yuji felt this way the entire time? Had you been pushing yourself into his life too much? You thought you were doing things at an appropriate pace, or at least, that had been your intention. Clearly, regardless of that, you’d failed–this entire time Yuji’s thought that you and Nanami were trying to replace his mother with you…

The thought makes you feel sick.

“I managed to put him to sleep.”

You freeze, wide eyes falling on Nanami’s who’s moved to stand in front of you. You hadn’t even heard him come in…

Swallowing thickly, you nod; “that’s good.” You offer quietly, shifting slightly as Nanami moves to take a seat next to you. His eyes are on you, you can feel them even though you refuse to move your gaze away from your lap. You’re sure he wants to talk about what happened but you’re not sure what to say–there’s panic welling deep inside your chest that is making it hard to breathe.

It isn’t until Nanami sets his hand over your own, threading his fingers through yours, that you finally turn to look at him.

“Apparently some kids at school made fun of him for not having a ‘real’ mom,” he explains with a frown. Your lips part at his words, registering the deep hurt in Nanami’s eyes–the guilt thickens. Here you were worrying about yourself not even considering how this all must have been for Nanami, especially now that you both know he’d been teased at school and that’s why he’d been upset and fidgety all night…

“I’ve explained to him before why his mother’s not around,” Nanami continues, squeezing your hand. “I think he was just upset. It caused him to burst out. I’ve told him he has to apologize to you once he’s calmed down–”

You shake your head, shifting to face Nanami properly; “no.” You cut him off, “he has nothing to apologize for. Kento… I never intended for him to think I was replacing his mom and I… if you’ve felt the same, I am so sorry. I thought I was moving slow enough but clearly I was pushing things too much and–”

You’re cut off as Nanami gently sets his free hand over your lips, leaning close enough to rest his forehead against your own. You freeze at the action, shoulders tensing as you stare back at him, lips left parted behind his hand.

“You’re not moving too fast.” Nanami says, his voice soft as he smiles gently at you. “We’re not moving too fast. I told you that Yuji’s mother would never be a part of his life but I never told you why.”

He slowly pulls his hand away, but keeps his forehead pressed against yours, eyes falling shut. “The truth is his mother ran away shortly after giving birth to Yuji. We weren’t together before she got pregnant, it was just the one night but we tried to make things work since she was pregnant. Maybe I was too pushy,” he sighs, shoulders falling, “I’m not sure. I wanted things to work out so badly but one day she just… left. When I tried to call her, she blocked my number and I’ve never seen or heard from her since. She’s quite literally disappeared.”

Oh…

Oh.

“She’s not tried to reach out or ask about Yuji once. I’ve explained this to him in the best way he can because I wanted him to know, no matter how young, why his life was different from other kids. We settled, got comfortable and I learned how to care for Yuji on my own because in my opinion, his mother is all but dead.”

Lips parting, you squeeze Nanami’s hand as his face twists into an expression of pain.

“I was happy with things and assumed they’d always stay this way. But then we met you.” You watch as his expression softens and the discomfort fades away as that same, soft smile curls onto his lips. “You changed everything. I’ve always worried that Yuji should have a female presence in his life, a mother figure… a child needs one. I don’t want to force you into anything you’re not comfortable with but you’re so good with him. You know what to say and how to make him laugh, laugh in ways I’ve never been able to. You never complain about him, even when he interrupts date nights or when we never have time alone.

“I tried dating women before, once in a blue moon and they all couldn’t stand having Yuji around constantly. He’s my priority, always, but you changed everything. You’ve changed both of our lives in ways I never would have imagined and I know, despite what he said tonight, Yuji loves you, Y/N. He absolutely adores you. I think he’s just confused because he doesn't really understand what you are supposed to be to him.”

You… you never thought of it that way.

You’ve been so careful, never crossing any boundaries because you weren’t sure either of them wanted you to. You didn’t want to confuse Yuji and you didn’t want to make Nanami uncomfortable so you’d always just stayed behind the line between family and less than that.

“I… I love both of you,” you whisper, eyes downcast as you try to sort out the words you want to say. “So much. I love you so much, Kento. You’ve given me what I never thought I could have and… I love Yuji like my own son. I… if it’s okay, want to be a mother to him.”

Squeezing your hand, Nanami leans back, his smile widening as he brushes his fingers across your cheek. “It’s more than okay, Y/N. You’re a part of our family.”

And it means more than Nanami probably knows.

To be a part of a family…

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento imagine #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #itadori yuuji

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shanastoryteller · 1 year

Note

Happy Pride! Jim & Spock? Can be in the Sybokverse or on their own eitherway is perfect!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5

“I believe I have the right to face my accuser.”

Jim is going to tear this asshole apart.

There’s muttering throughout the crowd, the auditorium filled to the brim for one cadet’s academic dishonesty disciplinary hearing. These are always open to be attended by the accused’s peers, but usually no one bothers, having far better things to do on a Friday morning. Jim is flattered, honestly.

Admiral Archer nods and everyone turns as one of the instructors stands and walks stiffly to the other podium.

Jim is honestly taken aback. A Vulcan giving him shit over this? He squints, trying to place him, suddenly sure he’s seen him somewhere before. Possibly just in the halls, but the familiarity feels deeper than that. He’s met a lot of Vulcans, to be fair.

“Cadet,” he greets.

“Defend the logic of your accusation,” he says, falling into familiar vernacular and only barely keeping himself from saying it in formal Vulcan. This guy might appreciate it, but Archer won’t, and Chris had told him not to be too much of an asshole.

The Vulcan raises an eyebrow. “The purpose of the test is to assess your response to no win scenarios. Altering the parameters, while admittedly an impressive feat of programming, shows both your lack of understanding and your casual disregard for the institution of Starfleet.”

“I don’t believe in no win scenarios,” he says confidently, flashing a smile to the assembled admirals that, in different circumstances, tends to get him laid.

He stiffens. “Your belief in them does not change their existence. In an impossible situation, you must react to the circumstances given to you. Anything else is entertaining delusions.”

“Bullshit,” Jim says immediately and sees Chris pinch the bridge of his nose. Oops. This is a perfect time to go into the speech that he has prepared, about how if he was actually trying to cheat he would have been more subtle about it, about how cheating was his answer to the question presented by the test, and how that applies to how he would really react as a captain.

But then the Vulcan gives him the bitchiest look he’s seen in – well, about four days, but he’s suddenly so sure where he knows him from.

Spock doesn’t understand how someone with so little regard for both etiquette and moral standards has survived this long in the academy. He’s intimately familiar with the doors that having a famous father can open, but surely there must be limits.

James Kirk opens his mouth, presumably to continue his insulting and inappropriate defense of his actions, then his eyes narrow, widen, and he demands, “Spock? S'Chn T'Gai Spock? Son of Amanda Grayson and S'Chn T'Gai Sarek?”

For a moment, all he can do is stare. “Have we met?”

His syntax when first faced with him had made him think that James Kirk was familiar with Vulcan, as unlikely as that seemed, but now he’s sure. Not only because of the correct pronunciation of his family name, but in how he has addressed him. Vulcan society is matriarchal. It is correct to identify him first as his mother’s son, and also appropriate to leave off his father’s title as ambassador when identifying his family origin, as his father’s position is supposed to be secondary to his mother’s. His mother married into his father’s clan, but that doesn’t change formal conventions.

Even on Vulcan, he is rarely identified correctly.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” James Kirk says, then takes out his communicator and starts typing.

What.

“Cadet Kirk!” Admiral Archer barks. “Put that away and comport yourself as your position demands or we’ll be here for more than accusations of your cheating.”

“Apologies, Admiral,” James Kirk says, placing his hands behind his back and looking like he’s taking this seriously for the first time. “If you’ll just allow a couple minutes-”

Spock’s communicator goes off.

“Commander,” Admiral Archer says warningly.

“One moment, please,” he says, his stomach rolling as he takes out the communicator. He’s hoping that this is another of James Kirk’s tricks, because when he’s placed it on silent only his family can contact him, and his mother marks all of her correspondence as non urgent. There is no good reason for his father to contact him.

He opens it up and blinks twice, to be certain of what he’s seeing.

Sybok has sent him a text base message. His elder brother never sends him text based communication, as he believes that Spock will not respond timely or authentically, and so only video calls him. Usually at inopportune times.

stop being mean to jimmy :(

He is a genius. Several things suddenly make sense all at once.

He is of course aware of his older brother’s dear friend who he only refers to as Jimmy. In the tragedy of Tarsus IV, when all should have been lost and the corrupt governor threatened to kill half the colony and did kill a not insignificant amount of them, it was Jimmy and Sybok who worked together to create a sort of resistance and keep people alive long enough to for their jury-rigged signal to make it through.

Receiving that strange message from Sybok after years of silence had let him, and their father, know that something was wrong and alert Starfleet.

Jimmy, who had been a minor at the time, and so his identity had been kept from the public at his request, and who had visited Sybok on Vulcan but Spock had examinations at the time and had not been permitted to travel across planet to meet him.

James Kirk looks at him, a smile hovering around the corners of his lips.

James Kirk. Colloquially known as Jim. Jimmy.

Spock had designed the Kobayashi Maru with his brother’s experience at Tarsus IV in mind. He had been different after, just as prone to arguing with their father, more prone to arguing with everyone else, but he’d been sturdier too. As if that experience had at once confirmed and destroyed all of his worst expectations of people.

James Kirk does not believe in no win scenarios and he has demonstrated that more aptly than any simulation could.

“I rescind my accusation of academic dishonesty towards Cadet Kirk.”

#bit of a time skip but it's not like we didn't know they were going to be okay #jim decides that this means him and spock and bffs now #spock does not want to further insult his older brothers Very Good Friend and Fellow Rebellion Leader #but he also wants to strangle jim so #sybok never told jim that his brother was teaching at the academy that year because he thought it would funny when they ran into eachother #and he was more right than he could have ever hoped #he visits because he likes chaos and spock and jim #asks #anon #prompts are closed #star trek #prompt answers

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obislittleone · 11 months

Text

Your Beauty Never Ever Scared Me

Dbf!Joel Miller x College!Reader

A/n: Listen… I don’t have any excuse for ditching my other three active series except for tiktok made me do it… That, and the CLM series by @macfrog has ascended me to a new level of crazy and I just needed an outlet for it somewhere. Another shoutout to @theatrelove3000 who keeps putting up with my dbf joel shenanigans, they are indeed insane.

Warnings: girl this whole concept should be a warning but anyways… age gap, some fluff, light smut, uncomfortable situations with readers father… probably some editing mistakes bc ya girl is tired ok its 2am

Please be kind to this chapter, I actually like it, despite the horrors.

Decided on the song ‘Mary On A Cross‘ by Ghost for this one bc it fits ig.

MASTERLIST

Age gap is approximately 15 years or so, reader is over 21 and joel is about 37

"I think I'd probably only slow'ya down," you chuckled, looking to Sarah who seemed to read the displeasure off your face from your dad's offer. "I'm studyin' to be an archeologist, dad. I don't know nothin' about framin' and all that house buildin'..."

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

It had been almost three days.

You looked out the window to the front of your house repeatedly to try and remember it clearly. The drive home, the kiss, and how abruptly it ended with a promise to see each other around. You thought about it so often you almost wondered if it happened the way you perceived it, if any details had been skewed in your mind simply because you wanted to keep it there, fresh, untouched. Maybe he thought of it differently... but maybe he didn't.

"Did you bring home the stuff I asked ya?" Your dad came into the kitchen with a smile, embracing you with a side hug and turning to help you unpack the groceries.

"Course' I did, Pa," you handed him the bag with the six-pack of bud and the other one full of snacks.

It was the first Rangers game night, and as per tradition, that meant the company of the next-door neighbors. It had been a while since you'd been around to enjoy it, but now that you were back, there were quite a few more reasons why you were on edge to now participate. It would look weird if you came up with an excuse not to be there, and you knew that. You also knrw that you'd gotten into a rather complicated entanglement with your father's closest friend, and weren't sure what the outcome really was.

Had that driveway light not spooked you both apart, and had that little black stray cat not made an appearance, how far would it have gone? Things were pretty heated, but even still. Would he have said something? Maybe along the lines of 'I've known you since you were sixteen, and this isn't appropriate at all.'

You didn't have time to think about it, you were set to work on helping your dad cook dinner for the soon-arriving neighbors. Dinner and a baseball game, once a relaxing and enjoyable time to bond with your dad, now turned into an anxiety fest where you were convinced you'd have to walk on pins and needles around every topic.

"So," your dad piped up from his silence at the stove, stirring the pot of chili he'd been prepping. "Joel told me he gave you a ride 'few nights back."

You knew it was harmless, and that he wasn't asking for any reason, other than that he was probably curious. You hadn't seen Joel in a while, not since two Christmases ago. Your dad had driven up to Dallas to spend both Thanksgiving and Christmas with you last year, and you didn't come home for summer break given an internship opportunity. You must have seemed different to the man in some way. All grown up.

"Yeah, gave me a ride n' saved me at the bar," you chuckled, trying to seem playful and unsuspicious about the encounter.

He seemed to be confused, his brows furrowed and a funny look on his face.

"Whad'ya mean he saved ya?" he of course was continuing to speak all the while dumping his favorite spices into the pot of chili, looking across here and now to keep engaged.

"Just scared off some weirdo who couldn't take no for an answer," you let a sweet and genuine smile fall across your features, but didn't let it get out of hand. Your relationship with your father was airtight, and he could read you pretty damn well. You weren't going to give anything away, not with what was potentially on the line.

"Glad he was there," he replied with a chuckle, sending you a soft glance. "Never thought you'd have grown up so fast, now I gotta carry a shotgun whenever we go places. Fend off the wild beasts."

His jokes were only so funny now, because in this situation, you knew he wouldn't hesitate to shoot Joel if he found out what had happened. All in the nature of protecting you, but it made you sad to think of the situation that way. Joel wasn't just another weirdo following you around at a bar.

"It's only because I'm so pretty," you did your best to respond lightheartedly, making a quip that would soothe the silence. "And I believe that's yours and Mama's fault, givin' me the genes and what not."

You'd finished chopping a nice garden salad by the time the doorbell rang. You ran upstairs to change your shirt to the Jersey your dad bought you for your birthday, claiming it was good luck for the team. Truth be told, you didn't wanna be downstairs when Joel and Sarah got here.

Sarah was here, too. Her, you could easily handle. You were almost hoping that she would be in a rather talkative mood, that way the attention could be swayed to her inconspicuously. You doubted Joel would even try to talk to you, anyway.

"Lovebug, come on down, Millers are here!" Your dad shouted up, even though he saw you run upstairs right when the doorbell rang to change your shirt.

"I'm comin', hold on," you replied sassily while heading for the staircase.

You got to the bottom and had to take a breath before turning the corner into the entryway. Joel stood there with a sweet smile to you, and you tried your best to hold back the one you wore. It was too bright, too happy to see him. All despite your nerves.

You were quickly embraced by Sarah, whom you paid immediate attention to.

"My lordy, girl," you held up your hand by your shoulder to show the height difference, "last time I saw you, you must've been this tall."

"Dad tells me I'm growing like a weed," she tossed a finger over her shoulder to where he was standing, and you gave him a small glance and a smile.

"Us daughters do have a tendency to grow up," you laughed, slinging an arm around Sarah and pulling her along to the kitchen as your dad and Joel did the same behind you.

Why had you been so anxious? Joel is happy to see you. He makes causal conversation with your dad, but he catches your eye every chance he gets. His expression doesn't change, except for the tug of his lips in a smile that's barely there. Joel doesn't smile too often, except apparently when you and Sarah are around.

It doesn't take long for everyone to get situated with their food at the table, playful banter between Joel and your father filling the air as you made less rambunctious chatter with Sarah.

She's doing pretty well since last you saw her. She was always a bright girl, but as she grew it became more apparent that she would probably excel further than anyone in her graduating class. You were sitting across from a future valedictorian, you were sure.

You'd tried to ask her about her out of school interests before your dad interrupted with a question.

"How about you, lovebug?" He watched your eyes flick over to him with a turn of your head. He added context, given you hadn't been listening to them earlier. "Are you gonna look for a summer job?"

You really should, if you're being honest. There's not much work in your aspiring profession located here, but you weren't as lucrative as you used to be, given your educational expenses.

"I've thought about it," you tilted your head back and forth, and your dad seemed to need more from your answer. "I need to earn some cash before I get back to Dallas, but I'm not really sure where to apply."

Sarah seemed to know where this was going before you did. She'd been around the last time your dad was begging Joel to find some help for the contracting team they worked with. But surely your dad doesn't expect you to build houses, does he? Your dream job is to dig holes in the ground, not fill them in and put homes on top.

"We got some spaces to fill, you should come work with us 'few months. The pay's good and you don't have to stay on long, probably just till the end of July."

You gave him a look, and he instantly knew you weren't interested, but you figured you'd try and justify your reasoning. It was an argument either way.

Maybe it had been your dad's idea, but he wasn't the one who planted it into his own head. Joel subtly turned to you and cooly uttered a response.

"You could work on interior stuff with me."

Did he just-?

"S'not much more fun than what your dad's been doin,' but at least it's out of the sun, and easier to learn."

You were almost dumbfounded. Your dad offering you a job that potentially could give you heat stroke with your lack of experience seemed like the worst idea in the world... but working on interior projects? With Joel of all people? Well, that didn't sound so bad.

You didn't want your dad to catch on, of course. Being so protestant of his suggestion, but then falling right into it as soon as Joel was the one to offer would be a dead giveaway to some sort of favoritism to his best buddy. It simply wouldn't look right.

"What kinda interior stuff?"

He smirked. The motherfucker was smirking. He knew you'd changed your mind, but couldn't exactly just come out with it. He understood, but it was still slightly amusing to him.

"Flooring, cabinets, countertops... 's things like that," he explained, knowing you really didn't care what all it entailed. He was still happy to play along. "S'not as fun as archeology, but it pays alright."

You nodded, acting as though you were turning the thoughts over in your head.

"Well, if you're sure I won't mess it up, I'd be happy to try it out," was your final response. You figured it left some leeway in case your father became suspicious, but gave a good enough answer to end the conversation on.

"That's my girl," your dad clapped a hand on your shoulder in excitement. Truth be told he would very much enjoy your presence on a work site. "I'll go ahead and call Eddie in the morning, let 'im know I found someone to replace Charlie for interiors."

It was said more to Joel, you figured, because you didn't really know who either of those people were. He'd nodded to your dad, taking a sip of his beer and then looking back to you. You smiled sweetly, nobody catching it but the one it was meant for.

"Game's gonna start soon," Joel spoke aloud, drawing everyone's eye to the clock over the stove.

Sarah cleared her throat before jumping in on the conversation.

"About that," she looked to her dad with the same puppy dog eyes she used to use against you. He was just as poor at saying no to her when she pulled those bad boys out. "Sammy texted me to ask if it's okay to stay over at her place tonight?"

Joel sighed. He knew that no matter the attempts he made for her to like baseball, it wasn't her thing. It was summer vacation, and he had no reason to say no, so he didn't.

"Is she coming to pick you up?" He began, fishing his keys out of his pocket to drive her if need be. The girl lived five minutes away, he'd be back only a few minutes after the game started, but he didn't really want to leave.

"I can ask her," she pulled her phone back out of her jeans, opened her screen, and checked her messages.

"No need, I can take you," your voice rang out, standing from the table and taking your bowl to the sink. It was a genuine offer, but it was also to get out of the house and process what just happened with the job situation.

Joel was the first one to stand up with you.

"You don't have to-"

"It's fine," you cut him off, leaving no room for discussion. It was lucky he liked you, otherwise, Joel Miller might have put up quite the argument for such a small dilemma. As was his way, of course. He huffed, but accepted he had been overruled.

"Thanks, then." It was mumbled, but there was gratitude in it.

"We gotta hop over to ours real quick and grab my stuff," Sarah told you, waiting for you to return from the kitchen before beginning to head out through the front door. You'd grabbed your keys off where they hung on the wall before going behind her.

"I'll be back soon," you called over your shoulder into the house, and got a chirped 'alright' reply from your dad.

You walked out passed your driveway, seeing the light flicker on as you both went passed the censor on the ground.

"Y'know, I didn't think you'd have caved so fast on that job thing." She had piped up once you were almost to her porch. You found it only slightly funny that she chose the exact topic which had been swirling in your mind since it happened.

"Not sure I really wanna do it, but your dad made it sound better than every time my dad's talked about it, guess he just convinced me," you chuckled, playing it off in a way that she absolutely was about to use against you.

"That's another thing," she turned to you as she backed into the house through the door, only turning once she was inside. "Since when are you friends with my dad?"

She said it in a joking tone, but having known a few things she didn't about interactions that occurred between you and her father, you felt constricted to answer seriously. Probably with a lie if need be.

"I've always gotten along with your dad," you gave her a confused look, accompanied after by a playful smile.

She grabbed her backpack and opened it, checking to make sure she'd taken all the school stuff out before starting to shove things in, her charger, headphones, etc.

"Yeah but... you're just all young and cool and stuff," she shrugged, turning around to walk towards the staircase. "My dad is all old and boring and only talks about baseball."

"Thirty-seven isn't old, babe. My dad is two years from fifty, and I don't even think he's old, yet. Boring? Maybe..." you reasoned, hearing her laugh before she sprinted up the stairs, giving you time to think of some answers before she asked any more questions. Had she really caught onto you that fast? You didn't think you'd acted noticeably. If Sarah was able to see it, then maybe your dad did, too. You needed to be more careful, in that case.

Sarah returned a few minutes later, her backpack now stuffed and her pillow under her arm. You nodded out the door and headed back to your driveway to open the door for her, seeing as though her hands were full.

The drive after Sarah had been dropped off felt so much longer. Maybe it was just your thoughts, or maybe you consciously drove slower to avoid getting home too quickly. Your dad was waiting, but above that, Joel was there, too. Probably sitting back on the leather couch, relaxing with his feet kicked out on the floor. He usually leaned onto the armrest with his elbow, and held his face against the hand it supported. You'd noticed it years ago. He only ever spoke up when your dad did, usually in reply to him.

He was content simply watching the game in the presence of a friend. It was endearing.

When you pulled into the driveway, you had come up with an excuse to not remain downstairs for the duration of the game. It was too risky, and you weren't apparently as good with self-control as you'd thought you were.

You went inside and hung up your keys on the hook, immediately passing the living room on the way to the stairs.

"Hey, lovebug, you missed the top of the first," your dad called. He knew you liked baseball, so if you were to lie and say you didn't want to watch, he'd know something was up.

"Y'know, pa, I think I'm just gonna watch it upstairs, I forgot I still got some stuff to unpack," you peaked your head into the room to respond, and saw that Joel, just as you had pictured, was sitting in his most usual position on the couch, feet out on the floor, arm up with a hand holding the side of his face.

"Can't you do it later?" Your dad pleaded, but you knew, seeing as how your father occupied the recliner, you would have no where else to sit but on the floor or next to Joel. You didn't trust yourself with that.

"I could, but I might fall asleep if I wait too long."

He sighed, throwing an arm in your direction and shooing you away. He wasn't annoyed, but he'd admit he missed watching these games with you. It had been like a tradition, but if Sarah wasn't here either, he wasn't gonna make you stick around.

"Sure you don't wanna stick around? We could use your lucky jersey down here," Joel piped up, lifting his face from his hand and giving you a pair of soft eyes. That was exactly the reason you would not be staying. He didn't even realize how much he affected you, but you'd make sure he did at some point. Maybe you could just tease him a little.

"You're right, it would be a shame to take the lucky jersey with me."

You walked behind your dad's chair, out of his sight, and tauntingly stripped the jersey over your head, revealing the tight black tank top beneath it, just like that night at the bar. Joel's jaw clenched and his eyes turned darker, even under the bright light of the flatscreen in the living room. You never took your eyes away from his as you slung him the jersey.

"Hey pa, can I get you anything from the kitchen before I go upstairs?" You leaned over the back of his recliner, looking at him upside down. He chuckled and shook his head, trying to move your hair from obstructing his vision.

"We're all good, lovebug," he spoke in addition to his physical response, his laughter dying down as you stood back up. "Come on down if you change your mind."

"I'll probably be down later," you spewed a half-lie. You weren't sure if you would be or not, especially if Joel was still lurking in the living room.

You gave those brown eyes one last look before heading straight upstairs.

You grabbed your remote and flicked on the TV. It was already on the right channel, so you tossed the remote aside onto your bed and flopped back into it. You didn’t actually have anything left to unpack, but they would never have known.

Your phone buzzed beside you, and you lifted the screen to your face to see a text from an unsaved number:

Missin you down here…

You’d never put Joel in your contacts, because in highschool, your friends thought it was weird to even text or call him regularly, but you had his number for years, always just as a backup. You’d known it by heart, now, and nearly had it memorized back then, too, for the times you needed his help.

I’d come back if there was an open seat.

A bit sassy of a response, maybe, but you were hoping he’d understand the hidden meaning behind it… Although, Joel didn’t usually pick up on those things very easily.

Open seat right next to me

Yeah, that’s why I’m up here…

You huffed, realizing it wouldn’t be that easy. The three little dots indicating his next response was on the way slightly nerved you. Maybe he took the last text you sent the wrong way. You didn’t mean it to sound badly.

What’s that supposed to mean?

Means that I can’t keep my hands to myself.

You quickly rectified the situation, although you might have gone too far. He was taking far too long to answer, now. The little dots that before nerved you would now be your saving grace if it meant he would just fucking respond, already. You dropped the phone on your chest, raising up and down in a scattered rhythm while you wiped your hands over your face. Your phone vibrated over your shirt and you immediately opened it.

I can’t either. Stay up there.

You breathed out a sigh of relief. He was thinking the same things you were, and likely was under more stress for it, given he sat right across from your dad, responding to his comments about the game here and there. Your dad had no idea what was happening right under his nose.

Wasn’t thinking about leavin.

This little back and forth went on, the majority of the game, in fact. It was more-so about the plays then on, because you didn’t have anyone to talk to up here.

Joel thought it a bit funny, your dad would say something oddly specific about one of the players, and then you’d text him right after saying the exact same thing. You’d been a product of watching baseball with your old man for just about ever.

“I’m thinking about gettin’ some tickets over the summer for a game or two. They’re always cheaper in them group packages, you n’ Sarah should come along,” your dad was barely paying any attention to the words he spoke, but they came flowing out anyway, clear and cool. “Could be fun.”

Joel knew that there was only so much group interaction he could handle with you, and you with him. It stands to why you’re upstairs, an he’s down here, fist wrapped tightly around your lucky jersey. All out of your father’s sight, of course.

“It could be. Don’t think Sarah’s much for baseball anymore, though.”

He’d hoped that your dad would drop it. Halfway through his third beer, he hoped the man was a little more than tipsy, and maybe didn’t even mean the words he was saying.

“Doesn’t mean you can’t still tag along,” your dad was definitely still sober enough to keep it up, although the way he spoke became slower. Maybe he was getting sleepy.

“I’ll think about it.”

His response was followed by a hum, then a lull of silence that endured the rest of the game. He sat all the while and thought about his predicament a bit more.

He couldn’t stop thinking about you. It was insane… like you’d leeched yourself to the inner workings of his mind and he wouldn’t be able to pull you off without hurting himself, too. You were just upstairs, and had been texting him. You were within his vicinity, and yet… so unreachable.

He’d wished for you to be down here, or for him to be up there with you. Obviously, that wouldn’t go too well with the man sitting next to him, but he’d be asleep soon. If he could just touch you again, just kiss you one more time, maybe his cravings would be satisfied and he could go about his days… but what would happen if he kept feeling the addictive urge to do more? What if he was never satiated enough to quit you?

The game was called, and you’d texted him a small ‘victory’ at seeing the Rangers had won.

It was wrong, and the presence of his friend beside him was a constant reminder that you were his kid, and he would have a final say. Even though you were an adult, he understood this was completely taboo, and you should be off with guys your own age... but he’s made up his mind about the thoughts spinning in his head.

He didn’t respond, though. Your dad stood up out of his chair, his arms stretching outwards with a loud yawn as he took a few steps forwards, clapping his hand down on Joel’s shoulder.

“I hate to kick you out…” your father joked, a low and tired chuckle under his words.

“It’s alright, I got some stuff to sort out anyway.”

They started making their way towards the door when light but fast footsteps could be heard coming down the stairs.

Joel turned quickly, a smile on his lips and in his eyes when he saw you trying to catch your breath after sprinting down here.

“Leavin’ already?”

They both laughed heartily. As if Joel hadn’t been here almost three hours, most of which you spent upstairs. Your heart was beating far too fast for your liking, but there didn’t seem to be a way to stop it. Now that you were present again, in the room with him, you didn’t know what else to do.

“Your dad’s half asleep as it is, if I stay any longer I’ll send ‘im into hibernation,” Joel’s response made you giggle softly, although you withheld most of the laughter, because in all honestly, it wasn’t that funny, and you needed to learn to control yourself.

“He’ll be over next week, we’ll talk about gettin’ you into that job.”

You nodded, turning back to Joel as your dad opened the front door. What were you supposed to do? You couldn’t hug him, could you? That’s too much… maybe just wave, or maybe-

He held his hand out… for you to shake it. A hand-shake. Yeah, sure, fine.

You shook it, but he pulled you in half way, tapping your back once and then letting go.

He just bro hugged you. This man just-

He turned and did the same to your dad, giving you one last glimpse as he stepped out the door. Your dad closed it behind him and you were almost clean out of words to say. That had to have been the strangest interaction you’ve had.

“I’m beat, love-bug. I’m gonna head to bed,” he slung an arm around your neck and kissed the top of your head before turning and going down the hall to the stairs. “Don’t be up too late.”

“I won’t, just got a few things to do.”

You waited approximately ten more seconds before running to the garage door, going as quickly and as quietly as you could through to your front yard. Joel was still on his porch when you got out there, but was about to go inside.

You ran out to the sidewalk in font of his house and called out to him, all the while still barefoot.

“Hey Miller,” you crossed your arms, watching him turn around and lean in one direction. “Did you just bro-hug me? Or did I imagine that?”

He stepped closer to the edge of the porch, leaning against one of the wooden beams closest to him.

You slowly walked up to him, tilting your head to side as you observed his stance. he looked rather good. Hair tousled, body adorning a black t-shirt and some dark jeans. He was a sight, even in the dark light of the neighborhood.

“I reckon I oughta’ try again?”

"Seems like the fair thing to do."

“You’re takin’ your sweet time, baby,” he irked, grabbing gently under your elbow and pulling you up onto to porch once you were close enough.

You smiled to him, and wrapped your arms round his neck, over his broad shoulders. He pulled you close, tucking a head into your shoulder. The anxiousness you felt before fell apart, the rapid beating of your heart slowed, because you were comfortable. You felt immense peace in his arms like you’ve never felt before.

He backed away too soon, but still kept you relatively close to him.

“Was that better?”

“Yeah, I’d say so.”

There was a moment of silence, of contemplation, but it wasn’t stiff, and it wasn’t awkward. It was just there, a nice and pleasant quiet, and you standing still with Joel Miller on his porch.

“You wanna come inside a while?”

Sarah wasn’t home, and wouldn’t be till morning. Your dad was probably passed out in bed by now, leaving the opportunity completely open. You had nothing to lose, no risk to be had.

“Yeah, I think I will.”

He didn’t let you go, he just walked you both backwards until he was able to reach the door, reaching with one hand to open it before stepping slightly to the side to allow you entrance first.

“Ever the gentlemen,” you smiled, walking inside before he followed you in.

“Gotta make up for all that nonsense earlier,” he closed the door, taking your hand and walking to the kitchen. He pulled out a stool at his counter and let your hand fall to your side as he made his way to the fridge.

He pulled out two beers and uncapped them with the tool hanging on the side of his fridge. You think you remember your dad buying it for his birthday one year. You can remember sitting in this exact seat many times before, actually. Never alone, though. Never just you and Joel, and nobody else near.

He slid you one beer an you smiled at him in thanks, taking a sip.

“Last time you had one of these, I didn’t know if you liked it or not,” he gestured to his own bottle, drinking some and setting it down on the counter.

“I don’t know, I think it’s growing on me.”

He looked straight to you, leaning both hands on the edge of the counter. You leaned forward, mimicking his more stern face of features before he said anything else.

“I didn’t wanna say so with your dad around, but you look awful pretty tonight,” he spoke the compliment smoothly, but he had to drop his head after he said it. Seemed that giving you compliments alone in the night was something of a struggle for him, since he was blushing still even when he looked back to you.

“I seem to be feelin’ a lot prettier as of late whenever I’m around you. Think you’re just good for my self esteem,” you paused, leaning back onto the stool to take a drink of your beer. “That, or it's just nice to be complimented by a handsome guy like yourself.”

He didn’t seem to believe you. His scoff was loud and heard immediately after your compliment returned to him.

“You think I’m handsome?”

He’d always thought he was average. Maybe even slightly below. As he got older, that notion grew until he felt that maybe he was beyond trying for a woman on behalf of his looks. Perhaps there were women from time to time that would agree to a date, but there were none since Sarah’s mom who actually stuck around, not until you… but you were different as far as relationships go, because technically, you shouldn’t even be considering one with him.

“Absolutely, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” You were curious, because he was clearly attractive. Maybe you’d spent too much time around the more traditionally preferred young men in dallas, but something about Joel intrigued you that never did with anyone else. Maybe it was the forbidden aspect of what you two were doing, but before that, it was something else. He was rough and rugged, and good looking in a mature way that the boys your age couldn’t mimic if they tried. Those dark brown eyes with little crows feet at the edges every time he smiled were a dead give away to his age, but it was so appealing somehow.

“Don’t know. Guess I’m just old,” he spoke, trying to hide the insecurities that phrasing brought about. He was too old for you, he shouldn’t be sitting here with you you alone and calling you pretty, and yet…

“Maybe that’s a good thing. Too many boys my age are still very immature these days.” And it was very much true. Too young, too immature, and too stupid to see what’s in front of them and really appreciate it. Older men have a tendency to take care of the things they have, because they know that with time they can lose them.

“That so?”

“Mhm.”

“They don’t even realize what their missin’ out on, do they?”

You shook your head in reply. Nope. Not a single one of the younger guys you’ve dated has treated you with the care you know he could. He’s always treated you with care, before… why would that change now?

“They probably figure there’s a million girls linin’ up after me that they can take a shot at,” you raised your eyebrows and drank some more. Maybe it was just a thought of some past experiences, but this beer was tasting better and better to you.

“I pity them,” he said nonchalantly, without really thinking about it.

“Who, the girls? I mean, I kinda feel bad, but other times, I think we all know what we’re getting ourselves into n’ we just try to ignore the red flags.”

It was meant as a joke, but he was being genuinely serious.

“No, the guys. I pity ‘em.”

“Oh, do you?”

“I do,” he nodded, thinking of the right words to say. “They lost you, didn’t they? Biggest mistake of their lives and they didn’t even know. Pity ‘em just for that.”

You didn’t know what to say. You figured the wide smile you wore was doing a fine enough job, but he wasn’t looking like he had anything else to voice yet.

“You think I’m somethin’ special, Joel Miller?”

He set his bottle down on the counter and walked around it to stand right in front of your barstool. He took both your hands and pulled them to his chest, just holding them there and looking to you with the sweetest expression you’ve ever seen from him. He’s so different than what you remember in your earlier years. He used to be so stoic and serious. Sometimes even a little grumpy. Guess time changes things.

“I wouldn’t be gettin’ myself into sum’ this crazy if I thought anything else,” he mumbled it almost, but he definitely meant it. His words rang true in every aspect of the implications they made. This was crazy, it was very unlikely in the first place, but even still, it was happening. Neither of you backed down, neither of you said no.

“If it helps, I happen to think you’re pretty damn special, too.”

He didn’t respond, just leaned closer towards you, nudging his nose against yours, before letting your lips meet in a kiss. it washed rushed and hazy like the last time. It wasn’t forceful or fast or anything of that sort. It was gentle, and it was meaningful. All the years he’d known you, but never like this. You knew this attraction was new, but it was still real. You wondered how many women pined after him over the years, only for you to now gage his attention when clearly no one else did. The man’s been single since Sarah’s mom left, and otherwise, you didn’t know him to be much of a ‘dating around’ kinda guy. Standing here with him, now, you felt such excitement in knowing he’d pursue you, the off limits woman, over anyone else. It was a true victory, or at least you thought so, sitting on a stool in his kitchen while he kissed you softly, his thumbs going over the backs of your hands that still lingered in his.

When the kiss broke, you inhaled deeply, the scent of him so close to you, surrounding you. He was like a warm blanket you just pulled out of the dryer. He was comforting, and soft, and his skin was currently hot to the touch. You could only hope that you had something to do with that.

“Baby,” he breathed, hands letting go of yours and finding a new home at your waist. You left your hands on his chest, feeling his heart rate fluctuating. “Gotta know something before this goes any further…”

You hummed in response, still trying to even your breath intake. He backed away a few inches to be able to look you in the eyes correctly. He’d spent enough time with you in the past to know if you were telling the truth, and he was going to use it just this once to his advantage.

“What we’re doin’, you sure you’re okay with it?” He knew better than to jump into this without clarification. “Don’t want you feelin’ pressured if you’re not.”

“I want this,” you spoke softly, just loud enough that he could hear. “Promise.”

You had thought you’d been the instigator to this, if memory serves you correctly. Even still, you know now that whatever happens, he won’t take it somewhere you don’t want it to go. This show of good faith was something you could put trust in him over. He’s a good one, you always knew that.

And again his lips were on yours, differently this time. It was a bit more hasty and fervent like the first time, but there was still something different from then that you couldn’t quite decipher.

You absent-mindedly opened your legs and he instantly came between them, letting your bodies become flush with one another. His hands ran up and down your sides, every once and a while dipping to your hips and somewhere below on your thighs.

There was a heat between them that you didn’t realize was there until he came so close to touching it. He never actually did, though, and you were both endeared by and upset about it. He was the one making that heat spread, he can’t just leave it there… but he’s testing his limits, and you think it’s respectful that he is.

He doesn’t want to cross any lines… as if this entire entanglement has not already done that. This situation in every sense of the definition, has crossed the line. Him hugging you that tightly on his porch, him inviting you in after dark when it’s only you and him alone, having a beer with some very personal conversation, and now making out with you in his kitchen. They all crossed the line of what should happen between a man and his best friend’s daughter.

“Tell me to stop,” he mumbled against your mouth, almost as if reading your mind. His hand on your thigh drifted between your legs, just barely caressing the heated pool sitting there, waiting for him. It was still very reserved, and you had to buck against his hand for more friction, but at least it was something.

The taste of him somehow made it worse, the feeling growing inside you without an end in sight. The arousal was evident, but you weren’t sure he would be able to do anything about it, yet. You could tell it was weighing on his mind, what was okay for him to do, and what wasn’t. You would beg him if you had to, you just needed more.

He had an idea, one that could allow both of you to explore this dynamic easier, and one that could potentially keep him from overstepping like he was afraid to.

He removed his hands only for a minute, bringing yours up and over his shoulders before he settled his back down below your ass.

“Hold on,” he told you, lifting you from the seat and walking until he got to the living room. From there, he let the space guide him until the back of his knees hit the edge of the couch. He sat almost abruptly, and when you relaxed your weight onto him, you felt the stirring between his legs as well. You moaned into his mouth at the mere size and feeling of it, beginning to slowly grind down onto him. He encouraged your movements, and used his hands to guide your hips as you went, back and forth, getting into a rhythm.

“That’s it, baby,” he praised, tearing himself away for a moment to expel his breath from his lungs at the new feeling. Your head fell against his, and suddenly it was the movement of your lower half taking you over.

He let his hands move over your body a bit more freely, now, but still careful not to make any harsh movements, or grab in places he felt he shouldn’t linger too long. He knew you wanted this, but something inside him questioned how comfortable you really felt… that was until you started doing the same, roaming his body with your delicate touch, making him feel like the most important man in the world. You could have sworn you marked the exact moment he snapped, rolling his hips upwards into yours shamelessly. It was so deliciously addicting, the feeling of his body pleasing yours, and vice versa. His rough and sturdy hands, though still gentle, ravished any part of you available to him.

The air between you was hot and thick, and you could swear that by breathing it in, you were drawing even more arousal into your body.

The motions kept going until there was a quickening of pace brought on by you both simultaneously. You couldn’t mark a distinction of when it increased, you just knew that the speed you were going wasn’t where you started. All you could think of was that your spend was fast approaching, and you wondered if his was, too.

“Gettin’ close,” you murmured, barely able to get the words out for the moans that slipped passed your lips. “M’gonna…”

He heard you, and understood. Truth be told, he’d started getting hard since that moment on the porch, so this was just nothing but sweet relief to him. He kept on, trying to meet you at your finish.

“Let go , baby.”

You had no qualms about being told twice when it came to him. You gave it up easily, the muscles in your body contracting when you felt the wash of utter ease through every inch of you. He tensed beneath you, but relaxed with a groan of relief right after, and you could feel his length twitch in his jeans.

You just dry-humped Joel Miller on his couch. Like a horny teenager. What the fuck.

The dawn of realization was cut short by his hand softly coercing the back of your neck, bring your lips back for him to claim as he did earlier. Soft, and gentle, no rush, no heat. Just that feeling between you both that started this mess.… and it was indeed a mess.

“You wanna stay over?”

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#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel x reader #joel the last of us #dbf!joel miller x reader #dbf! joel miller #joel miller age gap #pedro pascal fluff #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal

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human-encounters-diary · 1 year

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Day 8

Doubts regarding whether or not the Terran liked me where certainly and indisputably diminished at the beginning of the next cycle.

Quinn seemed to have predicted my intention of speaking to her as soon as possible, given that she sought me out shortly after the new cycle had begun. She was walking towards me in a rather strange manner, faster than normal walking, practically jumping with small flying phases in between taking the next step. I could not discern the purpose it was supposed to serve, but I was not given time to put too much thought into it.

She bared her teeth at me once again, although this time I did not recoil. One of her hands hit me languidly slightly above the juncture where my first pair of legs joined my upper body. I was uncertain what this gesture was supposed to convey. Was it an attack? Was she trying to notify me of an imminent danger approaching?

"I wanna show you something", she informed me. She waved her hand from my direction towards her body, which, if I inferred correctly out of the previous records, was supposed to signify me to follow her.

I trailed after her, letting her lead me to the emergency in question. As it turned out, there was no immediate emergency. The Terran came to a halt in front of one of the few windows built into the outer layer of the SIIR Noxos. She pointed to it as I joined her side, leaving a (as I aimed) respectful distance between the two of us. I followed her extended arm with my visual organs, ending up staring out of the window.

I blinked. If there was an immediate threat outside the window in close proximity, I was not able to glimpse it. The human spoke up: "It‘s beautiful, isn‘t it?"

She had sunken to the floor, a rather alarming sight at first, but she seemed unharmed.

I searched for an appropriate response, but in the end, I simply answered: "I suppose. Although my species does not linger in the beauty of transient things."

The human‘s face morphed into a grimace of displeasure. "Then what‘s the point in life?"

"My species believes that there is more to life than oneself, and that intelligent life is supposed to be dedicated to the exploration of science.", I eludicated.

"Hm. I guess y‘all aren‘t too different from some humans. Y‘know, we humans have the phrase 'Appreciate the little things'. I mean, the universe isn‘t exactly small, but…it‘s definitely nice to look at." "I suppose", I repeated.

I lowered myself onto the floor as well, as it seemed appropriate. I gazed upon the universe outside the window. I suppose there was something quite beautiful about it.

Eventually, I broke the silence.

"May I ask a question?", I requested, careful not to be impolite.

"Yeah, sure", she answered.

"I watched the video recording of your work in Sector 3, simply to control your work, and you…seemingly began to sing? While continuing to work? I am merely trying to understand the reasoning behind this. Does it serve a religious or cultural purpose?You were not bored by your task, were you?" My front pliers rattled quietly. Something about the thought of the human being bored made me…rather uneasy. Perhaps it was due to my mind imagining what the human might come up with to pass the time in case of boredom.

The Terran blew air out of her nostrils rather aggressively, but there were no other signs of irritation.

"Oh, no", she answered. "No, it‘s actually just because…well, my dad taught me everything he knows about handling machines, so when I used to help him out in the workshop in the afternoons, and we‘d be like…fixing a car engine or whatever, we always used to turn up the radio and sing along. It was kind of our thing. So nowadays, when I‘m working on something, I might start singing. Not out of boredom, just a habit."

"Your…dad.", I repeated, uncertain what that term was supposed to mean.

She looked at me in a indiscernible manner. "Yeah, my father, my parent, whatever you wanna call it."

"I apologize. I was unfamiliar with that term.", I stated.

"Oh. Sure."

She opened her mouth once again to say: "Y‘know, um…I mainly just wanted to show you this and also thank you, y‘know, for…giving me something to work on."

"It was my pleasure. I admit I might have given you a rather simple task to begin with, but that was merely because, while the Vitrichl stated you were competent, he and I have…differentiating views on the word 'competent'."

She bared her teeth once again, although shortly, before raising to her full height and, for some inexplicable reason patting down her clothes as if to remove any dust, although her clothing was perfectly clean.

"Well, Cap wants to see me again today, so, I guess I‘ll see ya tomorrow."

"Indeed.", I retorted.

Without another word, she turned and waved one of her hands behind her as if to signal her departure.

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lackingspace · 2 months

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Scurrilous (Feyd-RauthaXReader)

Chapter 3

Rated: M Word Count: 5.9K Warnings: Harkonnens are their own warning. Violence. Language. lots of banter. Author Note: Giedi Prime is here. And Feyd wants to play.✧

Prev Ch: Admonish

AO3 link: Scurrilous

There were few times you'd made the trip to Giedi Prime in the past. Always for some generalized celebration. Always with your family. And each visit was only a few days at most.

The Harkonnen rarely hosted events that warranted extending Great House invitations. But when they did, they were not to be missed. No one wanted to snub Harkonnen, that privilege was Atreides alone.

At least their functions weren't wholly unpleasant, in fact, if gluttony and extravagance were your prerogative, you'd quite enjoy them.

Everything was different this time. You were alone, the stay was undefined, with no clear reason for the occasion.

The first time you'd come was when you were 6. Glossu had officially been named the na-Baron. The title previously belonged to his father, Abulurd, but in some scandal you were too young to fully grasp– a disownment of Harkonnen to Rabban– the title was stripped from his person. You'd attended with your House to pay the appropriate respects that naming, or renaming as was the case, an heir was due.

All but Atreides came.

You barely remembered that trip. If not for it being the first time you'd sighted the black sun, you would have forgotten it entirely. You had spent far too long straying in and out of the light and shadow pondering the effect. You remembered how your eyes stung on the return to Erif IV.

The next was when you were 8. The Baron had constructed a massive amphitheater to serve as the new gladiatorial tournaments arena. As you understood it now, he had also changed it from predominantly a means to train their militia into a bloody spectacle of execution. As its inaugural fight, all houses were formally invited.

That was the first time you'd watched a man die.

At 13 you were again invited, this time to Feyd's 12th birthday and débutante celebration. A strange occurrence as the only time a débutante occurred was if the person in question was the named heir or female, sometimes both of those were true such as instances like your cousin Josephine, but he was neither. However, Vladimir Harkonnen did as he pleased and his uncle had made it very clear he was to be given the same consideration as the na-Baron– even without the title.

It would be years before you came to understand the type of man that led House Harkonnen and the horrors that were committed within their walls. Even still, with your limited understanding, you still remembered thinking how lamentable it must be to have an uncle like that. Feyd hadn't even been in attendance. An injury– broken rib and sternum– prevented his direct appearance.

His true debut into society came a month later at a House Ecaz function. He'd seemed hesitant, shy even, but nodded when you asked if his ribs made a full recovery.

When you were 15, the Suk school had allowed you enough leave to attend your political duties to house Ezharian. An invitation to attend Feyd's entry into the arena had been sent to all. The show he put on was violent and visceral for someone so young, but his performance was morbidly captivating. Death of men was not uncommon to you now, but they were typically in an infirmary and not surrounded by thunderous cheers. You wondered how much violence he must have suffered to be so ferocious already.

Later, at the feast when all houses made their simpering praises to the hosts, you followed suit. Praised his performance and thanked them for the invitation– the same as all before you. All traces of shyness had long since been replaced by haughtiness.

Before you'd made your way back to the assigned Ezharian table, Feyd had smugly asked how the Suks allowed a doltish female into their field.

In return, you politely inquired if he'd like an accident arranged so he could experience what a doltish female could do firsthand. The curl of his lips had dropped as you walked away.

That was the first of many candid remarks the two of you would trade over the years and it was the last night you spent under the infrared sky. There hadn't been any attractions to Giedi Prime that required invitation in almost a decade. You'd since seen the family at other high society conventions, but not on their home territory.

This would mark the fifth visit in total and the first solo at 25. In all previous trips, the weather had always been fair. As if the atmosphere wanted to join in the novelty, rumbles of thunder could be felt throughout the shuttle. Flashes of lightning peeked through the half-covered viewing window.

The inky rain wouldn't do to be caught in– you'd heard enough stories that the pollution of their atmosphere caused it to leave an oily residue on whatever it bathed. Thankfully, the Harkonnen compound had landing ports that sealed behind craft for this reason.

You weren't too worried about it though. Your focus was pulled by the storm itself and the sight it created. Having retracted the shade into its housing, the view from the window was captivating.

The sky was a monochromatic kaleidoscope of crackling lights within smokey clouds making even the industrial landscape beautiful. The dusky gloom blotted out much of the natural infrared light, emphasizing the small pinpricks of illumination from various buildings– appearing as stars in the dimness.

Its untamed violence was a stark reminder that although brutal, Giedi Prime did hold beauty. One that was enticing when discovered, but buried so far beneath all the hard edges that it was rarely seen.

This was the same kind of lure Erifian seas had from shore. The soft crashes and twisting waves invite one to tread into its depths. If you treaded carelessly, icy riptides were more than happy to drag you under and never let you up, but if you managed to avoid them, the ocean's secrets were a sight to behold.

A much too close flash left you blinded for a moment, blinking rapidly, your vision faded into focus as another struck further away. Its plasma appears black to your eyes before dissipating to a white mist and then into nothingness.

For the brief second a strike occurs, everything is illuminated in its wake– flaring infrared back to life before the shadows consume it again. Brief blindness was a worthy trade for the sight.

You were almost sad when the view was swallowed on your descent into the Harkonnen compound.

Lowering the window cover as the ship's elevation shifts before the telltale signs of a safe landing. That was signal enough to stand and stretch your legs. It would only be moments before the doors lowered and you were assailed by a barrage of attendants. Sharking life back into your bones seemed needed if you were to deal with people properly.

The black heels Cleo had chosen were fashionable, more sturdy than you’d expect, but damn if they were much too high for your comfort and the ache had set in even as you were seated. But pain was good. It would remind you to stay on your guard.

Cleo had done that on purpose you supposed. She was a clever little thing. More your confidant than a servant. She'd packed each outfit meticulously and provided instruction on what occasion they'd best fit.

She'd also seen fit to stain your hands before your departure. A traditional Erifian custom utilizing the argena root, a herb native to your planet that stains skin silver when mixed with acid. She'd made an elaborate design both geometric and organic, artfully weaving your House sigil into the pattern.

It matched well with the dress she'd stuffed you in. A black leather bodice that hugged tightly until your midriff when the material quickly fell in two strips on your front and back down to your ankles– silver roses inlaid at its bottom edges.

Your hips and legs on display, but not completely exposed thanks to the thin black gossamer underdress and delicate silver chains at your hips holding the heavier material in place. A deep carmine cloth looped around your back and through the silver hoops dangling from the stiff shoulder caps before free-falling towards your feet.

Your house colors on full display– Black, silver, and carmine. A reminder to all who gazed upon you that an Ezharian was among them. Even the jewelry she'd selected was a subtle tell of your heritage. Necklace a silver geometric rose design that encloses your upper chest and mid-neck like a cage.

Lifting your silvery fingertips to straighten your hair and ensure the twisted chain is still in place on your forehead. The effect caused the inked diamond to appear like the jewel within a circlet.

It was effective for its reminder, though the warmth it provided was subpar. But you had little use for warmth in a place like this anyway. You would need to be demure, witty, and no small amount of cunning– qualities more suited to the cold.

Hearing the vents of the ship become louder and the rush of non-recycled air clued you in that the door had finally lowered to allow your exit. The soft echoes of the outside thunder were another indication that you should have been rushed by the staff at this point, but they’d yet to enter. Harkonnen had always been particular in their commands, perhaps their instruction was to wait for your exit before attending to their task?

If that was the case, it'd be best to exit and let the work commence before some imagined disobedience occurred. Would there be a welcoming party? All times before it was some steward who welcomed your family with politeness and instructions. Would this stick with tradition or be another surprise?

Stepping out of the shuttle’s warmth into the chill of the landing dock the attendants were indeed waiting. Five standing in a line with their eyes towards the floor. Their identical black outfits marked them for what they were. A steward stood perpendicular to their line with his hands behind his back, “I hope– I hope your t-travel was w-well, My lady.”

Familiarity, at last. Although, is that a stutter or something else? Releasing the breath you hadn't realized you were holding slowly as his words registered. The quiver in his voice spoke more of nervousness rather than a speech impediment. But what reason would he have for anxiousness? It couldn't have been you. Those were his first words and you had yet to respond. Something else must have already shaken him.

The little reputation you had shouldn't be fearsome in the least nor enough to reach their ears. It was wholly benign in comparison to those he served. Keeping your face neutral and your stride steady on your way down the ramp, “It was comfortable, thank you…” waiting for his reply to your questioning tone, “F-forgive me, my– my lady. Emil, I am Emil.”

As your heels clicked down onto the solid level flooring you waved a hand in dismissal, “Nothing to forgive, Emil.” Now that you were a few steps from the ramp, he made a clap and the line of attendants began toward the ship in single file. Standing next to the man you watched them enter the ship, “Are you to take me to the guest wing then?”

The man's jaw twitched and now that you were in closer proximity you could see the sweat upon his brow, “Yes, my lady.” From your new position, you could see his hands were wringing together behind his back. Your eyes narrowed as you assessed him.

His breathing was elevated, sweating, but his color seemed fine– no flushing or paleness that wasn't natural. ‘Something is causing him excessive anxiety. An order? If he is to try an assault on me, they chose their would-be assassin very poorly. I’m almost insulted.’

“Well,” inclining your hand towards the direction you last knew led towards the guest wing, “Shall we or is there some other reason I should stand here in uncomfortable heels?”

His eyes widened as if he committed some great offense that you had to initiate the request, “Yes! At on–” A disapproving tsking sounded from the shadowed corridor followed by slow firm footsteps.

Raising an eyebrow at the sound and turning towards its origin revealed Feyd-Rautha slinking out of the darkness. He wore a fitted black leathered outfit. Edges of the material embossed with a blocky industrial pattern indicative of Harkonnen fashion. At his shoulders, two darker rectangles were stitched much like the traditional designs used in their anointments before ceremonies. ‘Ah, the source of his discomfort.’

His dark eyes appeared to glitter as he passed varying lights on his walk towards you. The occasions you saw him were infrequent enough that you were always struck by the unusual allure he possessed. Delicate bone structure set against eyes like knives. An unassuming strength until someone stepped out of line. Teasing mischief until anger ignited.

He'd always been a strangely enticing individual to be around.

“Does a lady's presence stupefy you or do I need to cut out what my uncle hasn’t?” ‘Ah. There it is.’ The reason you'd never pursued anything more than banter with him. ‘His mouth generally leads to more trouble than its worth.’

The lightness of his voice didn't match the stinging accusation of his words, “You stood there as if she was to wait on you.”

How long had Feyd been standing there awaiting your arrival? Huddled in the dark scrutinizing his staff? The image was almost enough to make you laugh, but here laughter was meant to be wielded as a weapon in conversation, not truly for amusement.

If his attendant was thoroughly in the throes of an anxiety attack as you'd left the transport, there must have been some exchanged warning– more likely a threat– not too recent, but not excessively long ago either.

‘As if he needed an excuse for pain beyond breathing the same air.’

Fluttering your eyes to avoid rolling them at his nonchalant manner, “Lord Harkonnen,” you inclined your head in a greeting bow, “How kind of your uncle to send you instead of the na-Baron.”

To anyone outside of Great House politics, that may seem like a snide remark, but in your circle of society, it was well-known how vexing you were to Glossu Rabben. You quickly scanned his form, “You look well.” And he did. The suit hugged his form enough to see more muscle than he’d usually display at a court gathering. You couldn’t say you disliked the sight.

The smug little smirk stayed in place as his gaze rolled from the servant to you, “Lady Ezharian, you look…” He made a show of dragging his eyes across your form as he sounded the words. By the time he finally reached your face again, the smirk had flattened and the look in his eye changed from duplicitous into something smokey with a hint of yearning. His voice took on a gravelly quality as he finally completed his assessment, “Vibrant.”

His shoulder rolled in a shrug to relieve tension and you could tell that wasn't quite the word he wanted to use but the pretense of civility was still in place. Pressing your tongue against the back of your teeth to prevent the acerbic remark ready to spill from your lips for the perusal. If he wanted to appear civil, so would you. For now.

If he asked, you would admit that his coquettishness had improved since you'd seen him last. But there was no need to inflate whatever ego he'd since gained by confirming he’d finally figured out how to fan the flames of desire.

“And my uncle made no request. I’m here because it pleases me.” Blackened teeth peaked from behind a half smile-half smirk. Your eyes narrowed at the sight, ‘That's a new development...’

Matching his nonchalant quality you jutted a hip and tilted your head thoughtfully, “How flattering. I had no idea my presence inspired such fervor in you.”

His look transformed into an isolating glower– dark focus so intense that you almost forgot the shaking man standing between you. The half smile fell back into a full smirk as he grumbled at you, “Fangs poised already, little viper?” The question was said more like praise than reproval.

His voice raised as he addressed the steward, but his gaze never moved from you, “Emil,” that was the sharpest you'd heard him yet and the man visibly flinched at the sound, “Why are you still standing?” The even tone didn’t betray his ire yet, but you knew him well enough to expect what was coming next.

If a stiff breeze were to blow through the compound, it'd likely knock this man over with how unsteady he was. You ran a hand through the length of hair that hung free down your back waiting for the show Feyd wanted to put on. Whatever was about to come out of the Harkonnen’s mouth was likely to be explosive, spiteful, and wholly unpleasant.

After another moment when the man had still yet to respond or move, Feyd's eyes ripped themselves from your form to pin him with a scathing glare. Taking the few steps forward to come within arms reach of the steward, he hissed, “I said…” Watching as Feyd placed a hand on the shaking shoulder you could see the clear pressure he applied both by the amount of crinkling in the fabric and the wince Emil displayed, “Why are you still standing?”

The last word was snarled savagely as he pushed the man to his knees. “Your incompetence reflects poorly on my name. Beg her forgiveness.” The shaking intensified as the man half sobbed at your feet. ‘Well, his dramatics are certainly unchanged.’

The bubbling sound made any sputtered words incoherent. Feyd perceived the babbling sobs as another trespass against his hospitality. Kicking the man in the side, albeit softer than you expected, “Kiss her prettily polished feet.” Another kick to his ribs, “If she deems it acceptable, I might even let you keep your tongue.” Finally, his booted foot fell hard and heavy on the man's hand, “Beg!”

That was enough for Emil to choke out a clear apology for his ineptitude, the shakes of his body infiltrating each gurgled word. Feyd looked pleased with his handiwork and you couldn't stop your eyes from rolling any longer. With a sigh you chided, “Feyd, my patience is already thin from travel, I have little left for your antics– either end it now or leave it for your private amusement.”

His disappointment was palpable by the scowl replacing the smirk, “How dull…I had hoped you’d request my knife.” A snort almost left you at that– almost– but you contained it for a huff instead, “Ignorance doesn't suit you. You know my conditioning.”

He rolled his own eyes and his voice took on a mocking drawl, “Ah, yes. Your aversion to causing harm like the good little Suk doctor you are.” Continuing to scowl down at the shuddering servant, “Leave us.” That was all the man needed to try to leave the scene, but as he pulled away his arm yanked painfully in the socket. Feyd's foot was still crushing his hand and wasn’t letting up. A choked whimper left the servant as the pressure only increased if the deepening grey of his hand was any indication.

There was little you could do for him, not that you wanted to, this was typically Harkonnen savagery after all, albeit from you to interrupt, but your feet did tire of standing in these shoes. “Would you like to escort him or Ito a room? If torture is more enticing, I'm sure I can find the way myself.”

The jaw clench was your only indication he'd heard you through whatever violence clouded his mind. His answer came a moment later when his boot slowly released the hand and the creature disappeared faster than you'd thought his shaking legs could carry him.

Feyd’s complaint was quickly hurled at you while you both watched his servant scurry away, “We both know your conditioning allows for more fun than that. What is it you once said to me?”

Instantly, you knew what he was referring to. Your eyes momentarily widened in surprise, that must have been three or four years back now. The fact he remembered it was dangerous and startling. He was intelligent enough to recognize its significance, but it was surprising he recalled it so easily.

You were under the impression Feyd only frequented your side at parties because you were more than a conniving halfwit and responded to his banter with equal vitriol. But if he recalled that…’He pays much more attention to my words than I give him credit for.’

“Only ignorant men believe themselves absolved of murder.”

Decidedly something you shouldn't have said, but between wine and teasing conversation you’d let it slip. You weren't so delusional or indoctrinated to think yourself incapable. It didn’t matter that it was true either– everyone had a breaking point regardless of what the imperial rhetoric toted– but if the Suk school heard you say it, well, you didn’t want to find out what consequences would come of it.

If the need ever arose for Feyd to persuade or coerce you into something, he had the perfect leverage. There was no doubt in your mind that he knew it and that he would use it should it come down to it… If that time ever came, you’d show him true venom. But he hadn’t mentioned it as a threat, so until he turns on you, it is best to give it as little attention as possible. ‘And to be careful with my words in the future.’

A satisfied hum sounded from his chest followed the confirming recognition of, “That's it,” as he turned away from the corridor his steward sought shelter in. Facing towards you with a scowl as he stepped closer, “Travel makes you petulant.” The tension he’d unwittingly dragged to the surface of your shoulders relaxed as you snicker at his accusation, “That it does.”

His size still dwarfed you– even in heels, the top of your head only coming to his nose. He lifted a covered arm out for you to take. A courteous court gesture that held no real purpose here other than a show of his respect for your position– or maybe habit. It wasn’t uncommon to see your hand rest against his forearm when moving through crowds of surrounding noble families.

But you two were alone for perhaps the first time. ‘It must be habit then.’

Your contemplation of his offer passed too slowly for him if the snippety grunt was any indication, “Well?”

Your silvered hand came up to accept the offer, it stood out starkly against his forearm, “If it please you, my lord.”

His non-existent brow raised at the silver, “Did you think we’d forgotten the Ezharian name? Or is this extra preening to turn my head?” Although skin staining was a traditional Erifian custom, you rarely sat for the time the process took. It was a rare sight when you bore the marks. But there was no need to confirm you'd done it for another layer of protection– that your father had demanded you sit for Cleo to apply it as a subtle reminder of which family they were entertaining.

Smoothing the hand against his arm, cool material slid beneath your fingertips, drawing both your eyes to the way the intricate designs sat against your skin, “Hm, I have occasionally wished to turn your head.” Dragging your eyes slowly up his arm to lock gazes, “Slowly,” fluttering your lashes at him as it was your turn to mock, “Over an open flame.”

His smile was a slow unfurling thing that bespoke of the perverse delight your words sparked, “Finally, the little vicious ice bitch comes out to play.” Your heels clicked as he started a slow stride towards what you assumed to be your room, “I could kill you for such a taunt.”

Your lips pursed in a clear sign of disbelief, “Come now, who would you speak with at tedious soirees then? Ward Ecaz? Hector Metulli? Neither are as stimulating as I am.” The doubt was replaced by a taunting haughtiness, “Or perhaps you aim to replace me with Nyla Galloway?” The poor simpleton of a girl was always panting after him. Always trying to initiate conversation and trailed his shadow unless you were already at his side.

She would balk if Feyd ever spoke to her the way he did you. Chuckling as you continued the jest, “She's been vying for your attention these last few years. I'm sure she'd be happy for my disappearance.” Peeking at his side profile, showed his nose scrunched in disgust and strong jaw grinding at your words, “The only attention she’s worthy of is that of my knife.”

That brought a slithering satisfaction to wriggle within your stomach. It had nothing to do with jealousy and all to do with getting under his skin. You were one of the few to manage it and continue to draw breath. The compulsion to goad him further of Nyla’s attention was hard-pressed to bite down, but it was unwise to continue, so you changed your approach.

“I think,” your words pulled his attention down to your scrutiny– eyes betraying his irritation at the previous notion, “You enjoy my malice too much to be rid of it.” Turning your gaze forward away from his penetrating regard you continued steadily down the corridor.

Keeping your voice light– musing even– and not as snide or invasive as your tongue wished while asking, “Is that not why you always keep our talks out of earshot from anyone of consequence? Why you have never alerted my father– or your uncle for that matter– to the very reprehensible things I say to you?”

Grumbling unhappily, affirming his threat was idle and you'd called it correctly, “You've made your point, I find your venom an enjoyable irritant.”

Pulling real confessions from Feyd was hard fought. Like safely trespassing through a dire wolf’s territory. Generally unwise and not worth the trouble. But if you did manage it, there was a deep satisfaction that bubbled at the accomplishment. This time, the feeling settled low in your chest mingling with a slithering heat running down your spine, “Good, I prefer the dull press of a knife to my throat than a sharp one.”

You knew that was a mistake the moment it left your lips. It was too easy an opportunity. The chuckle he released was as instant as your regret. The purr of amusement was obnoxiously thick as he cooed, “Do you think of my blade pressing into you often?”

Refusing to look at him directly, your peripheral was still enough to sight the devilish grin on display, “Is that what you fantasize about in our time apart?” The smug glee triggered irritation in you that threatened to consume everything else. “It was a metaphor, nothing more.” He wouldn't take that for an answer though, not when you'd made teasing so easy.

“It doesn't have to be. I’m more than willing to press whatever you’d like against you, though I do admit your blood coating my knives is an enticing thought.” Your reply was a very quick and very indelicate jab of your elbow into his ribs, “You’re too bold.”

He didn't even stumble from the action, only let out a responding groan that was much less of a pained sound and more of a pleasured one than you'd intended. "Masochist.” The slithering warmth was still present and it sunk lower to settle between your legs at the sound of his groan. He shouldn't be allowed to sound like that.

“Careful, Ezharian, if someone sees your abuse they might think you enjoy my company enough to pick up habits. How repulsive that would be for your perfectly pleasing reputation.” A scoff instantly left your lips at his goading words.

He had always been teasingly suggestive with you– a stimulating jest that he continued to push until you’d bite back at him. Narrowing your eyes and looking up at his pleased grin, “They would be blind to it unless I stabbed you openly in the middle of some event. And still, it's more likely you'd be seen for the offense. Your Harkonnen presence has corrupted my prudence.”

He looked even more pleased as he was contemplating the scenario, “Now there’s a thought. I’d enjoy every second of that corruption. Especially if Moritani was made to watch.” Your face scrunched at the mention of Cesare Moritani. Feyd detested him for no reason in particular as far as you could tell. But sometimes with Feyd, reason didn’t enter the picture. Before you could become too lost in thought his next words pulled you back, “You'd still face consequences for assaulting someone of my station.”

Crinkling your brow in disbelief, that's where he wanted to take the conversation, “Your station? Really?” He hummed in confirmation with that stupid grin still in place. You shook your head at the incredulity of it. He was making some poor flippant remark, likely probing for a mock apology for the imagined assault, but if that was his aim, you were in the wrong mood to grovel.

If he wanted you playful, speaking of rank was the wrong approach. You had very sturdy ground to stand against him in that regard and he would hate any reminder of that fact. Which meant it was the perfect response.

With a hiss, you turned on him, “Well then, my lord, should I remind you why we can speak so candidly?” Slowing your pace until you came to a complete stop which had the desired effect of Feyd stopping with you.

Turning his body towards you in a mock show of rapt attention, you lift your hand from his forearm to brush imaginary dust off the chest of his suit, “Until your dear darling uncle pulls the title from Glossu, you are not na-Baron.”

Just because his uncle does treat him as if he were the named heir, that doesn't give him the rank officially. The shift in his eyes went from playful to an unamused smolder. He stood straighter and stepped forward invading your space, but you didn’t bow away.

Head craned back to maintain eye contact as you refused to move even when his chest brushed yours. The clench of his jaw drew your eye to the flexing muscles before narrowing as they moved back up to his leering ones. This was the closest he'd ever been. Much too close by proper standards, rumors and whispers would have spread from this display if anyone were here to witness it. Your father certainly would have pulled you away at this point.

But you were alone. And neither of you seemed to mind the proximity.

The stare was intense– his pinched brow would say it was anger, but if you had to name it, it felt more like burning hunger. It affected you more than you’d like to admit. His hazel eyes were so expressive this close. Taking a deep breath you spat each word while heat ignited in your lower stomach once again, “You are the son of Harkonnen’s second born and I am the daughter of Ezharian's second born.”

You could see his eyes drop from your gaze down lower. To your lips or your throat? It didn’t matter, to know that you were affecting him just as he affected you was pleasing to the roiling heat in your veins. After a moment, his eyes dragged back to yours and his face seemed even closer than before.

His breath tickled your cheek as you smiled maliciously at him, if either of you leaned closer your lips could easily brush. But you had more to say. “What's more, I am the only child of my father. We both hold no titles, but by lineage I outrank you.”

Letting your smile fall into a smirk similar to the one he so fondly wore, “However, I am only female, so far as it stands, we are to be considered equals.”

His fingers lightly dragged up your forearm towards the dangling silver hoop at your shoulder, “Equals.” It wasn’t said with any strong emotion attached to it– only repeating the word in his raspy husk with no denial or objection. A shiver ran through you at his light touch. He reached for the carmine silk that hung free, his fingers bunched the fabric into his hand, crinkling its smooth appearance as he all but growled, “My darling viper,” The look in his eye was now openly wanting and it had your thighs clenching.

He had no right to be this tempting. The flare of his jaw should be offensive, the anger in his eyes should flare your own, and his closeness should spark disgust. None of it should flare desire, but your body was being as unruly as everything else today.

In your musing he leaned in towards your ear, lips lightly brushing the edge, shocking you back to reality as he whispered, “You can be such a quarrelsome little cunt.”

The combination of feeling his lips and hearing the praise in such derogatory words sent another pulse of heat through you. The moment seemed to pass slowly as he shifted slightly and you felt the light press of his plush lips against your pulse point– not a kiss, but it was something. Something he shouldn’t have done.

You drew in a sharp breath before he pulled back just enough for your gazes to meet. You’d always known he was attractive, you weren’t blind, but in that moment there was a smooth sensuality you wouldn’t normally attribute to him. His eyes trailed back down to your lips and you felt your breathing turn heavy, you wanted him to do it, but he shouldn’t. His eyes flicked back to yours as his head tilted.

Quietly, you murmured his name, “Feyd.” It was breathless and full of an unvoiced plea– for him to stop or to continue, you weren’t sure. This was dangerous…And beyond stupid.

For as flirtatious as he could be in conversation, it had always stayed just that. He had never crossed that line physically. It was only ever a light touch to your hand, a brief press of his fingers to your shoulder, a hand pressed to your back if being directed through crowds, nothing lingering that could be confused for indecent. If this was how interactions were to be without an interloper observing, you were in trouble. This hadn’t been something you considered before now.

“We shouldn’t.” Your voice was a shock even to yourself. You hadn't even felt the words leave your lips. His answer was calm, unbothered, as his voice gruffly vibrated his agreement, “I know.”

But he didn’t pull back immediately. His eyes continued to scan your face and you could see the conflict there. If you had no rank, he could do with you as he pleased, but you were a Lady of a Great House. That made things vastly more complicated.

Finally, he dropped the scrunched fabric and pulled away. He straightened his top before offering his arm once again. Accepting the gesture the two of you resumed the walk as if nothing happened.

#dune part two #dune movie #feyd rauth harkonnen #feyd rautha #feyd x reader #feyd x you #fics #writing #fic writing #fanfiction #ao3 fanfic #ao3 link #I was going to try for a medium burn #you know like 20k words before they do anything #but idk if I can manage that

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redesigningxmen · 17 days

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REDESIGNING MIRAGE

That’s no mirage you’re seeing, that’s our group taking on Dani Moonstar, aka Mirage! One of the New Mutants from the 80s book, Dani has long been that team’s leader and served in different leadership roles. She’s most notable for being one of the X-Men’s most prominent Native American characters. Her identity is so central to her character, she refused to wear the standard New Mutants training uniform without adding pieces from her Cheyanne heritage.

Our team considered both Dani’s unique power - the ability to manifest someone’s greatest hopes or fears into realistic illusions - and her Indigenous background when redesigning her. Taking on a character so strongly rooted in such a specific - and non-White - culture meant approaching the design with respect, and of course always with an eye towards an exciting design!

Give all our talented artists a follow on social media!

Rake | @/pastelrake

"For Dani I drew on two prominent western themed pieces of media from my childhood. Firstly my father's favourite John Wayne film; 1965's The Sons of Katie Elder and secondly, the 1987 ridiculous children's cartoon BraveStarr. Both of these properties, whilst flawed, gave me a love of Americana/ Wild-Western aesthetics. With this in mind, I wanted to create a vintage-style western movie poster that centred Dani as the protagonist. In particular, I imagined her in the recognizable role of Sheriff, given her established characterization as a protector."

SSTArtwork | @/sstartwork

"I did two looks for Dani, one is more of a practical field uniform, with padded armour sections and oversized gloves. I've added an extra skill to her power set, as well as creating arrows and bows, she can now create a psychic vulture, which I envision swooping onto an enemy and ripping at the fears and drawing them out, or the desires, to varying effects. The second look is more Valkyrie based, with more opulent armour and headpieces harkening back to her initial days as a Valkyrie. In this state, all her powers are boosted and her bird becomes much larger, around about the size of a very large condor. She can use the bird as an aid in battle, for gliding, shields etc etc."

Alex Buckland | @/blueromanticss

"Dani's culture has always been really important to her so I tried my best to incorporate that into my design! "

Thwwip Stickers | @/Thwwip_Stickers

Dani is one of my top two most fave New Mutants and a character I’ve always loved in the comics my entire time as an X-Men reader ( since I was 6…I’m old lol)

"I had two Goals with this redesign.

I wanted to move Dani into a cyberpunk futurism feel…as I feel like it’s time for all the X-Men to be ushered into the age of CyberPunk.

I really wanted to grow Dani up. My goal wasn’t to do an entire redesign from the ground up, but rather take what she’s had and mature her. Dani, as well as most of the New Mutants, have a tendency to to revert or be written like teens again and it was high time that we start viewing Dani as the strong, mature, dynamic member of the X-Men she truly is.

I wanted to use style lines and shapes that evoked Indigenous Futurism without (seeing as I am not indigenous) just covering her in a bunch of patterns and regalia that might not be appropriate for Dani as a member of the Cheyenne Tribe. I wanted to really make her seem like a hunter while still honoring her indigenous and mutant roots."

#dani moonstar #mirage #the new mutants #new mutants #x-men #xmen #marvel #marvel comics #redesigning x-men #character redesign #redesign

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the-eeveekins · 9 months

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The 25th Day of G-Witch

For the first time in her life, Suletta goes against her mother's wishes. Pushing back against her mother, who reveals she'll soon be fully paralyzed and doesn't care about her fate, Suletta rejects the plan that would lose her her mother.

Elan 4's appearance here is a surprising one, especially because there was no reason to believe people could be passively uploaded to the Data Storm until this moment. Even more confusing is that unlike the other "ghosts" seen in this episode, he seems to fully co-exist with the Data Storm like Eri. Suletta finally gets some much needed closure with her first friend, and Elan helps bear the load of the Data Storm so Suletta can connect to Quiet Zero and reactivate Aerial.

Suletta has always struggled to voice her wants and needs, to express her desires. But here, finally, she calls herself a greedy person, because she doesn't want to accept a future without her mom OR Ericht, and she expresses that desire to Eri. Working together, their hearts aligned, Suletta and Eri surpass Permet Score 8 and create a massive Data Storm that even reaches the moon.

Rainbow Calibarn is my favorite mobile suit ever.

Miorine's is so brave. We finally see the results of the deal she made with Shaddiq in the last episode. She dissolves the Benerit Group and transfers it's assets to Earth, just like Shaddiq had wanted to do. And with Shaddiq's testimony, the world will know that the Space Assembly League had a hand in the various terrorist attacks at Plant Quetta and Asticassia.

Despite that, the SAL still intends to fire the laser cannon, reasoning that they can still justify wiping out millions as long as Quiet Zero still exists.

Suletta's crowning moment of awesome, as she uses the Gundam and Quiet Zero to create a massive Data Storm and override the laser and shut it down, all while The Witch From Mercury plays triumphantly in the background. It's the climax of the action in this series, and for a show titled "The Witch From Mercury", it's appropriate that it ends with the titular Witch casting a massive magic spell to save the day while her theme and the theme of the show itself plays. Suletta turns the Gundam's Curse into a Blessing.

This scene breaks me every time. The culmination of the Samaya/Mercury storyline. Suletta's validation of Prospera's choice to save Ericht, the moment where the mask breaks, Prospera "dies" and Elnora sees her daughter for the first time in 17 years. As both her daughters tell her they're ready to move on and live together, Elnora finally gives up on her crusade and makes a tearful apology to both of them. Wish playing in the background is the cherry on top to this cathartic climax.

My only complaint was the implication that Prospera had long ago completely given up on revenge for Eri's sake. It's true that she set aside her hatred of Delling to work with him on Quiet Zero because she believed it was the only way to give Eri a future that wasn't trapped in a mobile suit, unable to directly communicate with anyone. But that also goes against her portrayal in multiple scenes. She's seen to be revenge minded in Cradle Planet, and one of her most iconic moments in the show is whispering in Miorine's ear that she wants revenge against Delling. And then immediately dragging Miorine through hell for seemingly no reason than as revenge for her father's actions.

It kinda felt like something added to the script at the last second to tone down the "harshness" of her actions while ignoring the fact that she was openly revenge-minded 8 episodes ago.

I was firmly in the camp that believed they wouldn't kill Suletta at the end of the show. It just didn't make sense from a narrative standpoint and would've just been a downer ending for the sake of being a downer ending.

But despite that, the first time I saw this scene, they absolutely got me. The deafening silence of Miorine's screams and the absolute horror on her face sold me for a moment that they had killed Suletta, and I just felt my heart absolutely sink. And then Suletta finally responded, and I shared Miorine's relief and joy.

Shaddiq's ending is often a contentious one, especially the fact that he ends up in jail and on trial for his crimes while the former heads of the Benerit Group seemingly escaped justice. But I think a lot of people take too much of a black and white stance on this topic.

Shaddiq is in jail and may even face the death penalty for his actions, something he was fully prepared for, but through Miorine's actions, Shaddiq achieved all his goals. The Benerit Group was dissolved, with Earth gaining the assets that once belonged to their greatest oppressor. His testimony likely did severe damage to the Space Assembly League in the process, exposing the crimes of it's members. And the girls he cared for have their freedom, working for Miorine as part of GUND-ARM Inc, free to make their own impact in the future. And as one final gesture to Miorine, he even takes the blame for Quiet Zero, so Miorine's newfound family won't have investigators trying to jail them. Shaddiq may not be a free man, but I believe he is a satisfied man, no matter what happens next.

As for the leaders of the Benerit Group, yes, they survived and have thus far escaped imprisonment for their various crimes. But their empire is over.

The Benerit Group is no more, the empire Delling built over two decades dissolved by the very daughter he neglected and tried to control. Delling himself doesn't even appear in a scene with Miorine in the epilogue, in stark contrast to the scenes she shared with her new family, and I don't think they're close. She definitely doesn't let him come around her family after all the pain he caused them. And he's under inquiry for this actions that led to Quinharbor and Quiet Zero, a sign that he may still face justice for some of his many crimes.

Likewise, yes the Peil Ladies appear to be in a retirement home and likely had some wealth hidden away so they can have a nice, comfortable retirement. Something 99% of us would be satisfied with, but not people like them. They lost their entire business empire, their plans to come out on top after QZ completely ruined, and even 3 years later they still look miserable that their vast wealth and power is gone.

These people did not come away with a happy ending, they're miserable, even if they're free. For now.

Speaking of miserable, I wonder if Guel is truly happy with this path in life. Guel was an awful person at the start of the show, and through his often horrible experiences, he did grow into a more mature person who wasn't a raging asshole to the people around him, and maybe even learned to trust the people closest to him and not push them away.

But ultimately Guel is the only one not to escape the shadow of his abusive parent, still running his father's company 3 years later. It's unclear, but he's still likely running the company as a weapons manufacturer and possibly still contributing to the problem. I just wonder if he'd ultimately be a happier person if he wasn't trying to live up to his father and instead pursuing his own path like he did when he was "Bob." Regardless, he now has a short-term future of being absolutely sassed to death by Elan and Secelia.

Another slightly contentious topic is Eri's fate. Is being trapped in a keychain really much better than being trapped in an 18m tall killing machine. For a few reasons, Eri is definitely better off now. She's still beyond score eight, something which allows her to reach out and connect to or override any Permet device. Her "body" may be a small keychain, but it comes across to me that Eri's consciousness has been extended and she can see and interact with things beyond her body now, and that when Suletta pushed her beyond score eight, it granted her the freedom that would have been possible under Quiet Zero, but without the massive Data Storm oppression the entire Earth Sphere. And of course, we're shown in this scene that Miorine wears a device on the back of her neck that Eri can connect to and directly communicate with (Suletta is also shown to be wearing one).

Even if she's still "trapped" in an object, she's far more free and mobile than she was as a mobile suit, able to travel and see the world with her family. And her family wears devices to accommodate her unique situation so Eri can communicate with her family. She's no longer trapped in a weapon, unable to communicate with her loved ones. Her existence may not be perfect, but it's undoubtedly better and I think Ericht is happy she's survived this long to once again experience a loving family.

Oh, and "Sister-in-law." It's not as common now, but when the show finished airing and there wasn't an on-screen kiss or wedding, there was a lot of complaining that the show was subtextual bait. And a lot of people overlooked or ignored the fact that Suletta and Miorine being married was explicitly confirmed in the text of the show with this one line. You'd literally have to invent another sibling for Eri that didn't exist 3 years ago for this line to mean anything else, but a lot of people ignored it to argue the show was only subtext because they only see textual romance as specific words and kisses.

Three years have passed, Suletta and Miorine have married and live together on Earth with Ericht and Elnora. A family they fought hard to earn. Suletta was disabled as a result of piloting the Calibarn, with visible Permet scarring on her cheeks. But she's thriving and happy, and clearly loved by her family and friends, ultimate proof that she is loved for who she is and not her abilities. And she's accomplished all the dreams we saw her set for herself during the show: She's built her school on Mercury, married Miorine and saved her mom and sister so they can all live happily together.

It's an severe exaggeration to say that Gundam protagonists always have bad endings, but they're usually more bittersweet. But Suletta fought to earn her happy ending, and to see the first female main character in Gundam earn a happy ending while also being queer, disabled and a person of color is so inspiring to see.

Miorine too, is probably the happiest we ever see in the show. It was rare to see her genuinely let her guard down and smile, something she pretty much only did around Suletta. But she's all smiles when she's with her wife, and after pushing her away once and almost losing her forever at QZ, she just will. not. let. go. of Suletta now, both physically supporting her but also making sure she'll always hold onto the person she loves.

In the first episode, Suletta was hungry, but too shy and nervous to ask for food when she saw Miorine tending to her tomatoes, and Miorine gave her food (and love). Now Suletta has grown and can comfortably express her wants and needs to the people around her, even if it's just the simple act of saying she's hungry. And Miorine responds with the warmest smile possible.

Suletta & Miorine go home together to the house they share. Surrounded by friends and family, sharing a warm meal that symbolizes the love they've nurtured together. They're in love and they're happy, and they leave us with one final wish...

May All Blessings Find Their Way to You, I'm Wishing It

I love The Witch From Mercury and I love SuleMio, and I love sharing my love of this show and these two wonderful characters with others. Is G-Witch perfect? No. But I love it far more than any other piece of media in my life.

Thank you for joining me during these 25 Days of G-Witch. If you celebrate, I hope you have a Merry Christmas, and if not, I hope that you're enjoying the holiday season.

#25 days of g witch #I took 96 screencaps for this episode #g witch #the witch from mercury #sulemio #gundam #g witch spoilers

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hoedamn-eron · 1 year

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he found the box of condoms - part 3 (finale)

You and Leto have to deal with the aftermath of your relationship.

Warnings: Age gap, but it is appropriate/legal. Mentions of drinking but it's isn't specified to be alcohol (but it's implied). An awful lot of dialogue. Some swearing. Angsty but happy ending. I have never seen nor read Dune (yet), so there may be some inaccuracies (Duke and Paul being OOC, stuff like that), but it's Modern!AU anyway. Slightly proof-read, as per usual. Word count: 3,025 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

FINALLY, I have this posted! Not some of my best work, but I was so aware that I hadn't updated this for 4 months!

Part 2

You wished you had declined your parent’s invitation to their barbeque.

It had been a terrible week. You had started your new job, but the person you were taking over from must have left the company with spite since they left everything in such a mess, that you technically couldn’t ‘start’ your job until everything was put right again. And there was a snooty woman (Harriet, in sales) on your office floor who had already decided you weren’t worth her time, and she seemed to have her fingers stuck in a lot of pies.

You’re dating life was a joke too. You’d been on a few dates here and there, from your adventures in the worlds of Tinder, and Bumble, but nothing went past the first date. They were all either looking for different things or just general walking red flags. The only ‘successful’ dates you had had were with your neighbour, Tom, who was a really nice guy, who treated you really well, and put an effort into your dates, but you had let him down massively by being too hooked on Leto Atreides. Now you can barely look at him when you happen to pass each other in the hallway of your building.

Speaking of your living arrangements, your apartment wasn’t working out like you thought it would. When you moved in five months ago, you weren’t prepared (or warned about) the excessively noisy neighbours, and the terrible water pressure, and the fact that your apartment was just freezing constantly. You’d already been on your landlord’s case, but he didn’t seem to care in the slightest, not now he’d had your security deposit and months’ worth of rent. You were on the verge of asking your parents if you could move back in until you could afford and better place.

And to top off your already terrible week, Leto was here.

You hadn’t seen him since he broke up with you six months ago, after you told your parents and Paul (who hadn’t talked to you since) of your relationship. It had been a hard time for you, obviously, practically seeing him every day since he lived next door to your parents. Of course, you didn’t expect your parents to stop talking to him, he was their friend before he was your partner (even though your dad had given him the cold shoulder for a while); but they could have given you some warning that he was going to be here.

“I’m sorry,” your mother said after pulling you aside to ‘help with the salad’, away from earshot of the other guests.

You were already shaking your head at her, giving her a tight smile. “It’s fine.”

It wasn’t, but you weren’t going to tell your mother who she can and can’t have in her own house.

“Your father must’ve invited him – “

“Really, it’s fine,” you say, placing your hand on her shoulder. “I’m gonna grab a drink.”

You really needed one.

Your mother soon went back to mingling and you hung around by the kitchen door, regretting your decision to come to the barbeque more and more. Everyone just seemed so chatty and happy, and like they currently had no problems happening in their lives. These people weren’t struggling to get hot water or being shunned in work by their new co-workers.

They most certainly weren’t in the same space as their ex-partners, still hopelessly in love with them. You did feel slightly pathetic, still pining over Leto the way you were, especially when he’d made it perfectly clear that it would be in everyone’s best interests that you separated.

“We shouldn’t see each other anymore.”

You had the feeling that was what was coming when he had said ‘We need to talk’. Nothing good every came from ‘we need to talk.’ But it didn’t stop you physically feeling your heart break in two, your body suddenly feeling like it would collapse.

Leto’s shoulders slumped as he looked at you with, annoyingly, sympathy. “That came out – “

“No, it’s fine,” you breathed, lightly shaking your head. “I get it.”

But it wasn’t fine, and you didn’t get it. You didn’t understand why you two would need to end what you had, just because Paul had thrown a hissy fit. But at the end of the day, you knew – deep down - Leto would choose Paul over you any day; he was his son, his flesh and blood. They’d both been through a lot since Jessica died. Leto would want the easiest life for Paul, and this wasn’t a part of it.

“I’m sorry,” Leto whispered, looking at you with those deep brown eyes, that you always thought held the stars. “I’m so sorry. It’s just you’re young, you don’t want to be with someone like me, an old man. And Paul is…I’m sorry.”

You shook your head at him again, disagreeing with everything he was saying. You both go silent before a wobbly smile makes its way on to your face. “We can always stay friends.”

Leto stared at you for a moment before giving a single nod. “We can.”

You almost roll your eyes at the memory, trying hard to ignore the pang in your chest. You hadn’t even remotely stayed friends. You wanted far away from him as humanly possible after that night. You were pissed off for a while, blaming Paul and wanting to wring his neck, but eventually you accepted that was just how life was going to go. Sometimes things work out how you want, and sometimes they don’t.

No matter how much you had wanted it.

You take a large sip of your drink, almost coughing at the burn down your throat. You truly didn’t want to be here. Maybe you could give your parents a discreet goodbye a quietly sneak out. Surely no-one would notice, only your parents had greeted you. Leto hadn’t even noticed you were here. You take a quick glance around your parents sunroom, your eyes landing on the God of a man himself.

He always looked so effortlessly good looking. He’d grown his beard out a little and God dammit, if salt and pepper wasn’t his colour. His white polo really brought out his golden tan, evident he’d been working in his garden with the nice weather you’d had the last few weeks. He didn’t look like his life was falling apart; obviously, Leto was a perfect human being. Nothing ever went wrong with Leto Atreides.

You sigh as you finish your drink, throwing your head back and looking back at Leto, before jumping out of your skin.

He was looking right at you, an unreadable look on his face.

You avert your gaze quickly, going to take another drink before realising it was already gone. Good, an excuse to disappear and avoid Leto’s coffee brown gaze. You make your way into the kitchen, intending to raid your parents appropriately named ‘drinks fridge’ for a good five or ten minutes. You weren’t ready to face him, even 6 months of being apart. It still hurt.

Once you had refilled your drink, you turn only to nearly drop your drink in shock. Leto had followed you into the kitchen.

Oh God, you’re cornered, there was no escaping him now.

“Hey.”

Why, why, did he have to have a voice that melted you from the inside out? It wasn’t fair. And you hadn’t heard him since you moved out, it shouldn’t make you feel like this.

“Hi,” you greet back. You curse yourself as the slight wobble in your voice, but you hope he didn’t notice.

He probably did, but he won’t say anything, because he’s just that nice of a person. He’s even looking at you like he’s causing you such an inconvenience talking to you.

“How are you?”

How were you going to answer that? Would you be honest and tell him that you were the unhappiest you’d been in a while, or would you lie? You could tell him that you were living your best life, that everything was absolutely fine with you, that you hadn’t had a few unsuccessful pity dates with your neighbour across the hall, because all you could think about was the Adonis of a man stood in front of you.

You’re taking too long to answer. The call of your name causes you to blink at him with a quick, “I’m fine.”

Leto nodded, an awkward silence filling the air. You look down at the drink in your hand, swirling it around the glass, biting your lip. You wanted to leave. What were you supposed to talk about? How miserable your life was? How he’s probably living his best single life with all the people falling at his feet?

“Your mom mentioned you’d…that you’d met someone.”

You couldn’t help the snort of a laugh that came out of you. Straight to the point. You shook your head as you look back up at Leto, a confused look on his face. “I wouldn’t say mine and my neighbour’s dates were something to write home about, pretty sure we’re not going to go out again.”

“So you’re not seeing anyone?”

“No.”

“So I can take you out then?”

You freeze, looking at him with wide eyes. What did he just say? “Pardon me?”

“I’ve been…completely miserable,” he said, huffing a laugh as he shook his head. “The past six months have been rough.”

The nerve! He broke up with you. He decided to end your relationship for Paul’s feelings, which you understood, really you did, but that didn’t mean you were going to just drop everything and crawl back into his arms. He’d ignored you for six months until today. As much as you were pining for Leto when you first spotted him, you couldn’t help but feel put out and pissed off.

Unnerved by your silence, Leto cleared his throat. “I spoke to Paul – “

“That makes one of us,” you mutter.

“He’s mentioned that he misses you and wants to make things right between us all.”

“He could have reached out himself instead of making you come and speak to me,” you mutter. “It’s awkward enough as it is.”

“He didn’t make me – “ Leto huffed, his shoulders slumping. “I’m trying here.”

“I just thought that my feelings meant just as much as Paul’s do.”

Leto sighed your name, closing his eyes in frustration.

“No, I get it,” you say, nodding at him. “As long as Paul’s feelings aren’t hurt.”

Leto looked back at you. “He’s my son – “

“And as I said, I get that, but he was also my friend. And he was a prick.”

“I know, I’m sorry, but you have to understand – “

“I do.”

You both stare at each other.

After a few moments, Leto shook his head at you. “I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you counter. “We broke up. That was it. The relationship was evidently too much, so we decided to end it. And now you’re coming up to me, assuming you can take me out, like nothing happened?”

You knew you were being unfair. You had agreed to break it off too, but you had been having a bad week and you weren’t prepared for him to be at your parent’s house after feeling sorry for yourself. And for him to just approach you the way he did and throw his feelings back at you?

You wanted the floor to open you up and swallow you whole.

You found yourself suddenly laughing in disbelief, averting your gaze to look around the kitchen, mainly so you didn’t have to look at his heart-breaking expression, and so he didn’t see the overwhelmed tears in your eyes. “I really didn’t need this today.”

Leto didn’t say anything as you ranted to him, your stress and anger from the past few weeks coming out of you.

“Ever since we broke up, I feel like my life just fell apart. I lost Paul, and you, and my apartment that looked great on paper absolutely sucks and my landlord knows it but doesn’t bother to fix anything. My new job isn’t what I thought it would be and I have already rubbed somebody the wrong way, and I can’t seem to hold down a date with a decent guy, because all I can think about is you!”

You hadn’t realised Leto had made his way to you until he pulled you into his arms. You hadn’t realised you were crying until he was shushing you and whispering apologies in your ear, keeping you to his chest and he lightly swayed you. He was always so warm and welcoming, and always left you wanting to stay in his arms eternally.

You find yourself trapped in a wave of conflicting emotions. As the memories of the time you had spent with Leto flood back, you feel a mix of joy, pain, and longing at being held by him again, even if it was in the middle of a breakdown. Your heart feels heavy with the weight of regret, as you reminiscence on the times you had together and the things left unsaid when you broke up, how it was so sudden when you felt like your relationship had just started.

You don’t know how long you both stood embracing in the kitchen for, but you were vaguely aware of Leto waving your mother away, probably checking to see where you’d both gotten to. You heard your father call to the guests that he was going to start grilling, so you took that as your queue to get out of the kitchen. You pulled away from Leto, wiping at your eyes and avoiding looking at him.

You’d embarrassed yourself enough.

He watched you silently pull yourself back together before you finally look up at him, giving him a shaky smile. “Sorry about that.”

Leto was already shaking his head. “You don’t need to apologise. Ever.”

You take a few more deep breaths, finally calming down. “Did you mean what you said?”

Leto looked at you with a raised brow, before countering back. “Did you?”

Well, yes you did. You know you constantly think about Leto. He’s never far from your mind, you’re always wondering how he was doing since you moved out of your parent’s place, wondering if he ever got back into the dating pool, or if Paul had forgiven him (evidently, he did). Leto was the love of your life, even if you both chose to separate. And despite this, he was giving you the choice to get back together.

You eventually nod at him. “I did. I think about you all the time.”

Leto gave a small laugh of disbelief. “Then what are we both doing?”

You shook your head at him. “I don’t know. Everything was happening so fast, I didn’t…”

Leto gives you a small smile. “I understand.”

“I didn’t want us to break up. I didn’t want to be alone, without you, but you looked like you were doing so well without me and I was practically a pathetic, blubbering mess.”

“I’m sorry I made you feel that way.”

“I’m glad you were as miserable as I am,” you say jokingly, giving a small laugh.

The change in Leto is instant. His shoulders relax, and he starts giving you that small smile that he used to give you when you were having your long talks on dates. It was the smile that warmed your insides and made you feel gooey, like a teenager going to prom with the most popular person in school.

He stuck his hand out to you. “Shall we start again? I’m Leto, it’s nice to meet you.”

You snort but humour him, grasping at his hand as you introduce yourself.

“I just noticed you across the room and I have to say, you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re so cheesy.”

“I remember you used to like me being cheesy.”

You feel your cheeks warm as you gave him a light shove. “We just met, Leto, I don’t know what you mean.”

Leto smiled at you. “Want me to ask you out again?”

You couldn’t help but sigh dreamily at him. Your heart beats hard against your chest as you nodded at him.

“Can I take you out sometime?”

Your breathing quickens, and you still felt like you were melting against that smile of his. This was it. This was your opportunity to be with Leto again, to be happy again. You wouldn’t need to sneak around and you could be a real life couple.

But you didn’t want to risk being hurt again. What if the same problems arose, that Paul wasn’t okay with it after a while, or your parents? Would Leto break it off again? Would he think it was too much again and end things? You were still an adult and could make decisions for yourself; something that others seemed to forget last time.

But you could handle it. You loved him, and you were sure he loved you. And you could be together again.

You nod at Leto. “Yes. I would love to go out with you.”

Leto grinned. “Are you free on Saturday?”

“I am.”

“I’ll pick you up at seven on Saturday then.”

Before you could reply, Leto leans forward, his lips meeting yours. You melt against him, your eyes closing as you revel in the familiarity of their kiss. The way his lips fit perfectly against yours after so long, like coming home after a long journey. You wrap your arms around each other tightly, deepening the kiss, savouring every moment as if you’d never been apart.

As the kiss comes to an end, you both pull away, gazing into each other's eyes, feeling the love and longing that has been building inside you for so long.

“I’ll hide the condoms better next time.”

You let out a laugh before slipping your hand into his, leading him back out to the party. You choose to ignore the smirk your parents were giving each other as you join them.

Tagged - @m0nster-fvcker, @justanotherkpopstanlol, @eonnyx, @secre-flower, @shaggzthatsnottheworm

#dune #duke leto atreides x reader #duke leto x gn!reader #duke leto atreides x gn!reader #leto atreides x gn!reader #leto atreides #duke leto x reader #duke leto atreides #paul atreides #paul atreides x platonic!reader #paul atreides x reader #oscar isaac

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askinkiskarma · 2 years

Text

The Archer | Chapter IV: Peace

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: Adapting to the Metkayina is harder on you than you thought it would be. Friction develops as both you and Neteyam's seeds of resentment for each other start to grow. Gideon discovers a secret in the forest that will change his purpose.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader, Lo'ak x Tsireya

Word Count: 11.8k words

Warnings/notes: smut(18+, minors DNI!), angst, mentions of death, blood, violence, cursing, SPOILERS for ATWOW

A/N: This chapter has probably been the hardest thing I have ever written - still finding writing the film whilst somehow finding a way to make it feel new and fit with the story extremely difficult. I tried to fit a lot of the Metkayina storyline in this chapter, but still have a long way to go, and so this will probably be a couple more chapters than I had originally planned. It was nice to reimagine the movie to fit the reader in, and I hope you enjoy reading about what I think went on behind the scenes we did get to see 🥰 Next chapter is when everything picks up and becomes angst-central, so enjoy this aptly named instalment x

Also, Lima Charlie means Loud and Clear, for everyone like me that was confused in the cinema x

Series masterlist (x)

And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences

Sit with you in the trenches

Give you my wild, give you a child

Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother

Is it enough if I can never give you peace?

Neteyam woke up naturally with the sun, something he has always been able to do. Whether willing or not, he has always been an early riser, ready to make the best of each day given to him by the grace of Eywa. It was strange sharing a tent with his family again, but he did enjoy hearing all the soft rhythmic breaths and the slight snore coming from his father. His attention swiftly turned to you, and he watched as you slumbered peacefully, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Your mouth was slightly agape and there were strands of hair fallen over your stunning face, that Neteyam reached over and moved. Atan..

He didn’t think you were ready to get up yet, so he gently removed himself from your loose grasp, trying not to wake everybody up as he did. His gaze shifted to a little blister pack, you said it was called, and his mood worsened instantly at the sight of the pills, those damned pills.

“What are these?” Neteyam picked up the little pill pack you took everywhere with you and the pills you took every day since you have become an Avatar just a couple weeks ago. “Is it for the virus?”

Neteyam watched intently as your gaze shifted from his, busying yourself with something else as the morning comfort faded away. You moved swiftly from the warmth of your new mate’s body and the sheets you were wrapped in all night, and went to your desk, where you struggled with your hair, untangling the pieces that were flowing freely down your back. You didn’t look at him as you answered.

“No, they’re not for the virus.”

Slight panic rose in Neteyam’s chest thinking of what these could mean. Were you sick again? Did the remnants of the disease in your human body transfer alongside your consciousness?

“Atan, you are starting to scare me. Just tell me what they are.”

You sighed and put down your brush, staring at the hands now tugging at each other in your lap.

“They’re birth control pills.”

“What are birth control pills?”

“They are pills so that you don’t get pregnant.”

There was a distinct pause in Neteyam’s mind, where his entire brain just stopped functioning for a little while. Neteyam knew that Mo’at has certain herbs and potions for situations where a pregnancy is wildly outside of what is appropriate, or for when the woman’s life is at risk, but neither situation seemed to apply here, and Neteyam couldn’t help the sudden pain and anger that seemed to rise in his chest.

“Why?”

You were picking at your nails cuticles so badly they were all bleeding and Neteyam found himself putting his hands over yours to stop it, the thought of the pain you were putting yourself through eating at him, above everything else.

“Atan… Just tell me. You’re my mate… and beyond that, you’re my best friend, my soulmate. I want to know.”

“I don’t want to have a baby. Not yet. I am still a baby myself, learning to take my first steps in this new world, in this new body - this new life. I have so much to learn, so much to live, so much I want to experience for myself first. I have been stuck in a lab for 18 years. I have been in pain and hurting and suffering my whole life. I am finally getting better, but there is still so much I need to do, so much growth I need to go through myself before I can take care of another being.”

“I also just don’t want to share you. Is that so bad?”

Neteyam thought about it long and hard, and felt the anger subsiding slowly. It made sense to him, although unnatural, but you are human. You don’t think about things the same way, and he has always tried to bear that in mind. And to be completely truthful, he wasn’t ready to be a father yet, either. He just got you. You had a lifetime to be a family, but once you have your first child, it will never be just the two of you again, and Neteyam also wanted to be selfish in his desire to keep you just for himself for now.

It’s been almost a year since that happened, and although most of his feelings remained the same, through time, a seed of hurt and pain was planted every time he saw you hurry off from his embrace in order to make sure you don’t miss any pill whatsoever. A hint of anger dwells in his soul every time you forget it and the subsequent terror that envelops your being, like the thought of having his baby was inconceivable to you, it was horrifying to you. Neteyam didn’t think he wanted a baby, but he definitely didn’t like how much you didn’t seem to want his baby. Neteyam knew he was being irrational, and the much more logical explanation was that, just like you have mentioned multiple times before, you were just not ready to be a mother yet, and it had nothing to do with him. But he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that ate at him each time, regardless how much he tried.

He was so deep in thought, sitting with his legs in the water at the edge of the marui, that he didn’t even notice Kiri making her way outside until she placed a hand on him, making him jump slightly, which elicited a small laugh from his baby sister. He rolled his eyes, then sighed quietly.

“What is wrong, brother?”

“Soon, it will be one year since she and I mated”, Neteyam said, gazing at you, still sleeping peacefully in the tent.

“And that upsets you how?”

“It doesn’t upset me. I am so happy, happier I’ve ever been. Her and I, we’ve spent our whole life loving each other, exchanging longing looks and secret moments, I almost lost hope that she would ever be mine. For so long, I thought what I felt for her was impossible, what I wanted was wrong. And now she’s here.”

“I still fail to see the problem.”

Neteyam didn’t know if he should say this out loud. He hasn’t even thought it to himself, and he was now going to confess to another person, to his baby sister? He didn’t want to burden her with his issues.

“You’re right, there’s no problem.”

“Brother, you are the worst liar. Just tell me.”

“I feel like we are not in the same place sometimes. I feel I’ve grown, I feel like our relationship is in one stage, and I feel like she feels our relationship is a few steps behind.”

“I find that hard to believe. You two are the most connected people I have ever met. Sometimes it feels like you are constantly linked through Tsaheylu. It’s a little freaky, if I’m being honest. Have you talked to her about it?”

Neteyam finally removed his eyes from your form, looking at the water he was stirring with his feet and the fish that were swimming peacefully around him.

“I’ll take that as a no. Don’t you think you should? Before you jump to conclusions and drive yourself crazy?”

Neteyam saw memories flash across his mind’s eye, of you holding Tuk tightly as you slept in your tent and you teaching her and protecting her, and of the pills that haunted his dreams, and with a sigh, got up and decided it would be better to go for a quick walk.

Kiri rolled her eyes at her stubborn, closed-off older brother, and said “You haven’t grown if you still feel the need to keep everything inside and not communicate with the person you love most in the world. Also, do something special for the anniversary.”

“Already on it. Thanks, baby sis.”

Neteyam came back a little after everyone else was ready to get on with their days. His eyes immediately went to yours, and he saw you had a concerned expression on your face, eyeing him curiously. What’s wrong? You might as well have been screaming the words to him, they were so clear in his mind. He gave you a small smile, and shrugged minutely. Just a weird day. You scanned his face for more information, and he felt a small blush make its way to his face under the scrutiny of your gaze. You could read him like a book, could read most people like a book, and Neteyam always found your ability to see into people’s souls a little intimidating. He couldn’t keep secrets from you, and right now, there was one he kind of wanted to.

“Ok, Sullys fall in.” Neteyam heard his dad calling out to them all, and when he saw Lo’ak wandering around the marui aimlessly, he pulled him to his knees forcefully.

“Remember? Family meeting.”

His baby sisters both looked a little despondent - Kiri was still in a foul mood from the move and this whole ordeal and Tuk looked sad. Neteyam’s heart tugged at the sight, and then did some more when you pulled her closed to you and placed her in your lap.

“Ok, take a knee, let’s go.”

Jake looked only at him and Lo’ak as he spoke - figures.

“Now, I need you kids on your best behaviour. I mean it. Learn fast, pull your weight.” His eyes fell on Lo’ak. “Don’t cause trouble. Got it?” Neteyam chuckled at the specific need to address only Lo’ak, and he grabbed his baby brother’s neck affectionately, pulling at it. Lo’ak hissed in his brother’s direction and Neteyam let go, a little hurt at the overly defensive action.

You were nervous about today, you realised. Firstly, your mate seemed off. You were worried about him, in light of everything you two have been through in the past week, and you were hoping this whole situation wasn’t affecting him too much. You hoped being in the water, being together for the first time in a while with no looming threat of death and violence, of humans killing everything you hold dear, would ease his anxiety. Secondly, you weren’t looking forward to this, to being in this village with people who looked at you like you were a demon, where the spiritual leader hates you. It reminded you so much of your childhood, and how the Omatikaya eyed you down with disgust plastered all over their faces, with fear, with anger. You were not looking forward to reliving these experiences.

You were comforted slightly by the feeling of Tuk in your lap, and you were slowly running your hands up and down her arms when you felt slight shaking from her part. A small whimper escaped her lips, which made you painfully alert.

“I want to go home.” Your heart broke at her words, and tears filled your eyes as you took in her trembling voice and hunched body, almost as if she was trying to make herself smaller.

Jake took her hand in his and gently played with it as he spoke. “Tuk, this is our home now.”

He turned to face the rest of his family. “Now, we’re gonna get through this. We’re gonna get through this if we have each other’s backs.”

You were holding Tuk tightly in your arms, letting her cry it out in your lap.

“What does your father always say?” You heard Neytiri say in a calming tone, which brought comfort to your worried disposition.

“Sullys stick together.”

You met the girl, who you now knew is named Tsireya, and her brother, the annoying Ao’nung, at the edge of the village. You exchanged a few awkward interactions, taking in how Lo’ak withdrew in himself at the mere sight of your new beautiful friend, and laughed softly, poking him in the ribs, and much like his earlier interaction with Neteyam, you were met with an annoyed hiss. You laughed louder now - you were going to enjoy this.

The two siblings and their friend Rot’xo gracefully dove in the water, followed by Neteyam and Lo’ak. You, Kiri and Tuk were last, and you jumped in holding hands, trying to remember to hold your breath so as to not drown. You were not the best swimmer, and your anxiety built up at the thought of the struggle ahead of you.

Every feeling you had, every thought melted away instantly, the second your eyes took in the spectacle around you. A whole underwater world appeared in front you, and you struggled keeping your mouth closed, feeling the need to open it to showcase the shock you were experiencing. The most beautiful views you have ever seen, the most wondrous creatures and plants, plankton and coral, colourful and bright, unique and dazzling, taking your breath away if you had any to spare. You looked over at Neteyam, who had a similar expression on his face, and when your eyes met, you smiled at each other, as well as you could underwater. So the water did help. Good.

You glanced over at Kiri, who dove much further than any of you, and was fully immersed in the experience, touching all the fish that naturally seemed to gravitate towards her. You watch as the Metkayina kids swam deeper and deeper down, their tails undulating in the water and propelling them forward, an evolutionary advantage you lacked, and with the heartbeat you could feel painfully in your ears, you made your way to the surface. You gasped for air when your body found it again, trying to make up for the oxygen deprivation you experienced while in the water.

Soon enough, Neteyam, Lo’ak and Tuk joined you, trying desperately to catch their own breaths. You felt Neteyam’s hand reaching for yours under the water, and you felt happy his mood seems to have improved significantly in just the span of a couple hours.

“Bro, let’s go.” Lo’ak nudged you and went back in the water, and you and your mate exchanged an amused look. “Someone’s in looove.” You said laughing. Neteyam shook his head lightly, but smiled at your childishness. You took as deep a breath as you possibly could, and, still holding on to Neteyam’s hand, you both submerged, trying to actually go deeper in the water as opposed to just staring in awe until your lungs feel like they were exploding.

It didn’t take long for the need to resurface to become necessary, and you found yourself once again grasping for air trying to settle your breath. You saw Tsireya, Ao’nung and Rot’xo return from their deep dive, and with a gentle voice, Tsireya spoke, and her voice calmed you instantly. You were wondering if it had the same effect on your baby brother. You doubted it.

“Are you alright?”

A squeaky voice came from behind you. “You’re too fast!! Wait for us!!”

“Just breathe…breathe.”

An aggravating voice broke through Tsireya’s calm one, and you felt the twinge of annoyance taking over you as Ao’nung spoke in a mocking tone. “You are not good divers…maybe good at swinging through trees…” A smack in the head coming from his sister was duly appreciated, or you would have done it yourself if it hadn’t happened.

“We don’t speak this finger talk, guys. we don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I will teach you.”

Gideon was still in shock, still unable to process what he was told hours ago, in the dead of night, by a kid he’d rather never have met, if he was being honest. One of them is yours. One of them is yours. One of them is yours.

His own. His kid. How was that even possible? Jo wasn’t pregnant, was she? He thought all the kids were Sully’s, they are all blue. Did they manage to make you an Avatar? He thought that was impossible.

He had so many questions and not a single answer. It was driving him mad. It was killing him, not knowing. It would be long until he would be able to be alone with Spider again, and he had to know something. He had to find out anything. He made his way to one of the security rooms, where a few men in a uniform were attentively watching the many screens displayed in front of them. God, what a fucking boring job, Gideon thought.

“Morning, guys. I was sent by General Ardmore to review the footage from the train attack. If you can pull those up, that’d be great.”

“Right away, sir.”

He watched as the footage from all angles played on different screens, and he took his time rummaging through its entirety, focusing on one at a time. He recognised Jake and his wife, and winced as he saw the damage they were inflicting on the humans piloting the helos. In certain angles, he saw the pilots and gunners being shot down from a great distance, and saw fleetingly a girl on a white banshee, shooting a sniper rifle. His heart stopped in his chest. None of the other people were shooting a gun, outside from Jake, who was a marine. Everyone else was using bow and arrows. He can faintly make out the girl’s features, and he recognises her from the woods. She was the one by which they figured out they were Sully’s. She had 5 fingers and eyebrows, like an Avatar, and a mean aim. He watched in wonder as this kid shot gunner after gunner head and chest only, and felt a swell of pride overtake him.

Could it be? Could this possibly be true? Could this be his daughter?

Gideon stalked off as soon as he finished getting the information he wanted, and moved on to the lab where he knew Spider was being tortured for information. He had to put an end to this, now.

He heard the screams before he made his way in the room, and with an uneasy feeling in his stomach, he entered. General Ardmore was standing on a platform and watching as the poor kid wailed in agony. He didn’t pay much attention to it, going straight for Quaritch, who was also watching, an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t think he was enjoying this either. This was his son, after all. No louder than a whisper, Gideon approached Quaritch. “We need to put an end to this.”

The commander turned his head in Gideon’s direction, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. “Why would we do that?”

“Because you know as well as I do that this is fucked up. This is your fucking son, Quaritch.” Gideon saw a flash of guilt and sadness pass over his face, and he was surprised to find out Quaritch did indeed have a heart, albeit a small, tiny, inconsequential heart, but there nonetheless.

Feeling empowered by the silent confirmation, Gideon went to the machine and pushed the big glaring button that meant the stop of the torturous process. His general turned around with a feral look on her face. Crazy bitch, Gideon thought.

“General, we can use this kid. This kid’s been with the Sullys for 19 years. He has lived amongst the Na’vi, he knows his way around, knows everything about Pandora, about the Omatikaya. He’s loyal, he won’t give them up. But maybe if we try the…personal approach,” he said, looking at Quaritch, standing limply on his left, “we might get better results. He can teach us the ways, the language, he can help us integrate better in the environment, so we can travel the Hallelujah mountains easier, and find them faster.”

Gideon saw the she-devil processing his words carefully, and he knew he won. He was one step closer to his daughter, and nothing was going to stop him from finding the truth.

You watched as Ao’nung stepped forward and clicked his tongue rapidly in the direction of the open sea, and you watched in amazement as a few beautiful sea creatures made their way to him, circling all of you docilely. Your gaze fell on your mate, who was holding his baby sister up in his arms, the chiseled muscles of his limbs on full display, and between the way your ovaries throbbed at the sight of him being so paternal, so protective over the child, and the sight of his incredible body, you were just about a puddle of desire, grateful to be surrounded by water for once.

“These are ilu.” The Metkayina boy’s voice pulled you out of your indecent musings, and you tried to focus, tried to learn. “If you want to live here, you have to ride.”

After hours and hours of pure torture, you were ready to admit to yourself you hated this, and you sucked at it, which probably contributed to that feeling. Turns out riding the equivalent of a baby ikran underwater and being thrashed around every few seconds because you didn’t have the lower body strength to hold onto it was not fun, and by eclipse, you were tired, wet, grumpy and definitely ready to call it a day. You were at least a little happy to know that the two Sully boys didn’t fare any better, but you were a little jealous of Kiri and Tuk, who seemed to fit in right away, and they were already riding their ilu to your family’s marui for the night.

You could see Neytiri and Jake chatting over the fire, smiles on both their faces, and you felt a wave of contentment envelop you at the sight. Maybe you could all begin to heal, in the midst of this untouched, tropical beauty, far away from the threat that was plaguing you in the forest. Maybe you can learn to live without fear again, or for the first time in your life.

You were walking towards the tent when you felt a soft hand wrap around your waist, pulling you snugly against a strong, taut body. Neteyam’s breath fanned across the side on your face as he whispered lowly in your ears, sending pulses of electrical current down the column on your spine.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze, needy and full of desire, and your stomach filled with messy, energetic butterflies. “Wherever you want me to?”

“Good girl.”

You walked all the way through the village and towards the forest, and called for your ikran, that you spent a little quality time with - the whole ilu business made you realise how much you loved Neyn, and how irreplaceable to you she’ll always be. She was feeling a bit down, you could tell when you bonded, and you knew she also missed her home, just like you all did. You gave her a few treats, some fish you managed to get a hold of on the way here, and you were off. Eclipse rides with your mate was one of your favourite ways to spend your nights, but whatever you were about to do would definitely always be the top contender. Nevertheless, the bliss of the open air against your face, the races and the laughs as you bumped into each other, the feeling of the wind taking your breath away, the thrill of the power coursing through your veins as you went so fast the whole world blurred around you - nothing would ever compare.

You sighted a small island - island is probably a generous term for this patch of sand with one lone tree adorning it, and you both landed on it, Seze a few seconds before Neyn.

“And the master wins… again.” He says cockily, with a mischievous smile as he dismounts and reaches for you, and you jump from your banshee straight into his arms. He catches you, as he always does, and his hands find your ass as your legs wrap around him.

“I let you win.” You look at his beautiful face and you laughed when you saw him giving you a look that you assumed was the equivalent of raising his eyebrow at you.

“What’s your punishment for this face, huh? Whenever I do it, you tell me I need to be taught a lesson.”

He pretended to think about it for a second.

“Huh, I think either way you’re the one getting punished.”

You smacked his arm playfully and feigned indignation.

You loved when he was playful. It happened rarely, as he has always been a serious, no-nonsense kind of a guy, but when it did, there was no one who shone brighter, no one whose eyes sparkled more, no one who made the world more beautiful. He put you down on the ground gently, and his soft lips found your forehead. It was such a simple gesture, but so intimate, so heartwarming that your heart picked up pace in your chest. “I love you.”

“I love you more, Atan. I need you to remember that, cause it won’t feel like that in the next couple hours.”

Your mouth flooded with saliva at his words, and the warmth in your chest swiftly moved in between your thighs and you remember that it’s been a while since you were alone, a while since you felt his hands and mouth on you, in you, the only place they belonged.

He took the blanket he always kept on Seze and spread it on the warm, soft sand, and motioned for you to lay on it, which you were more than happy to do.

He slowly started removing his adornments, much easier job now, having left the Omatikaya jewellery and cummerbund behind, leaving him in only his loincloth and the bracelet he refused to ever take off. He saw your breath quicken laying on the blanket and you parted your legs for him, like on command. “Now…before we were rudely interrupted by Lo’ak in our tent, I was asking you to be quiet for me. I think I’d like to see that now. Do you think you can keep quiet for me, baby girl?” The look you gave him drove him feral, and his loincloth was hurting him, painful against his hard-on, twitching wildly, begging to be set free, begging to feel you - to fill you. He slowly got on top of you, planting kisses on your body, purposefully avoiding your needy core.

“Neteyam…”

“Shh, Atan, what did I just say?”

He removed his mouth from your body and came face to face with you. “I said we have to find a way to keep you quiet. How is this for a way? You don’t keep that beautiful mouth shut, I stop.” He laughed at the way you squirmed underneath him, raising your pelvis trying to get some release, any sort of friction, but he skilfully avoided you, and continued his onslaught, lips and tongue all over your beautiful body, that he couldn’t wait fuck until you were crying with your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

“So fucking unfair.”

“All in good time, my love.”

Torturously, he made his way to your belly button, and slowly descended, taking both of your legs and placing them on top of his shoulders, until he could feel your heels on his back. You were too far gone to see anything around you, so fucking desperate you were sure you were ripping the blanket by how tightly you were coiling it around you hand. This was torture, agonising torture, and you felt your ass dripping in juices from how wet you were. You wanted to scream, you wanted to let this island, the village, the whole world know what he was doing to you, how wild the feelings you were experiencing ran. You wanted to cry out his name in pleasured moans , falling from your tongue like a litany, like a prayer to never stop, to never take away this feeling.

He saw how desperate you were by how hardly you were biting down your lip, so hard he was sure he could see blood, even in the dark. His poor Atan, so damn needy. He would have to make it up to you.

You moaned loudly when he inserted two fingers in your drenched core, and left them there, unmoving and cruel.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop. Just move, please. Please.” You started grinding against his fingers, trying to get your own release. He removed his fingers and looked at you sternly. “Do you know what happens to bad girls, Atan?”

You panted wildly but said nothing, refusing to look at him. He rose from the position he was in and faced you again, opening you mouth with the two fingers he had in you and pushing them down you throat. You sucked on them, loving the taste of yourself on him, wishing it was his dick instead. You licked his digits clean and it was his turn to moan, to which you raised an eyebrow. “Unfair!”

“All’s fair in love and war, baby girl. You taught me that.”

He removed his fingers from your mouth and was trailing them down your throat and chest, until he reached your nipples, that immediately hardened upon contact. He flicked them in between his fingers and placed his mouth on one, sucking and licking til they were sore, after which he moved to the other. You were bruised now, hickeys all over your body except in the one place you wanted. Your eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and he knew the need was becoming too overwhelming for you to bear.

“I think you’ve suffered enough. I need to fuck you now.” He plunged three fingers back in your desperate core, and he started pushing in and out of you with slow, languid motions, knowing exactly which spot to hit to make you see stars all around you. His mouth then followed, sucking and licking masterfully at your clit, unrelenting in his attempts to ruin you. You tried so hard to keep quiet, and you were doing so well, only the lewd sounds of his onslaught could be heard, sloppy and hot and you came all around his fingers and mouth, biting hard into your arm til blood came out to keep silent.

“That’s my good girl.” He licked the cum dripping over his fingers and moaned at the taste.

“You should taste yourself again, Atan, you taste unreal.”

“Only if it’s licking it off your cock.” He growled at you like an animal, and you could hear the loincloth ripping at the stitches as he pulled on it with such ferocity it would be scary if it wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You are such a little slut, aren’t you? Always wanting to suck my dick, you like milking me dry, don’t you, Atan?” He pistoned in you with enough strength you let out a pained cry, and there was no warming up, no slow burn, no building anticipation about the way he fucked into you until you felt he was going to break through your cervix. You still tried to keep quiet, the sounds of skin on skin slapping and his balls hitting the underside of your ass over and over the only ones you could hear and it was maddening, the pace, his look, the way his biceps were bulging to allow him to keep this ruthless pace, the way his abs contracted over and over to get him deeper and deeper in you, the way he lowered his mouth on yours and licked the blood from your bottom lip that was dripping from when you bit into it, it was all too much, and you felt yourself nearing that second orgasm, desperate for his cock to fill you up.

“That’s it, baby girl. Come all over my cock, let me see what a good girl you are. Let me hear you, Atan.”

At his permission, you came so hard you felt like you were going to pass out, loud shrilly moans escaping your lips with no concern for his previous command anymore, or the thought of anyone hearing you. Let them hear, let everyone hear how well you were being fucked on a nightly basis.

He removed himself from your still throbbing heat, and didn’t give you time to come down from the high, as he scooped you up from the blanket and took your place.

“Come on, baby, sit on my face. I want to come in your mouth.”

“Neteyam, I can’t..”

“Yes, you can, baby. Come on, let me make you feel good.”

You did as you were told, and gasped when your pussy made contact with his mouth, and his tongue immediately found your insides, fucking you with it like you didn’t just cry in pleasure from your last mind-numbing orgasm. You reciprocated though, licking his cock from balls to tip, loving the taste of you on him. You sucked on him like he was your favourite lollipop, which he was, teasing and licking the slit of his tip, taking him all in and moving your head up and down while pumping the base with your hands. He moaned loudly in you, the vibration making you clench around his tongue. You started grinding aggressively on his face while he fucked your mouth and you felt thick spurts of cum sliding down your throat as you cried out from the overwhelming sensation, slightly overstimulated, but deeply satisfied. You licked the last drops of cum from the tip, smiling as you felt him do the same with you. You learned in time that nothing gets wasted on Pandora.

It took Kiri and Tuk no time at all to learn the ways of the Metkayina, and you wish you could say the same about yourself, but in reality, you were struggling - a lot. It was taking a toll on your mental health, as you have never struggled with learning anything new your entire life. You prided yourself on your intelligence and self-sufficiency, on your prowess to always excel at any new tasks. You were trying to give yourself some grace, as you have only learnt to swim properly in the last year, and even then, you were doing it mostly as a fun post-training activity with Neteyam, never as a serious endeavour.

On a positive note, you and Tsireya bonded over your love for the ocean, pretty jewellery - she commented on multiple occasions on the bracelet adorning your arm, which lead into a deep discussion into the best places to find shells and stones fit for a Metkayina warrior, that she was sure you would be in no time -, your maternal care for Tuk and your mutual admiration for a certain Omatikaya troublemaker. You were over the moon to observe the pure, puppy love developing in between your favourite brother and this beautiful, caring, smart and gentle girl, who looked at Lo’ak like the sun rose in his eyes, just like you told him someday someone would.

“Breathe in…” Tsireya says in a calming tone, as she follows her own command. “And breathe out. Imagine flickering a flame. You must slow down your heartbeat.” You watched as she placed both her hands on Lo’ak’s body, and you could tell he was hyperventilating inside just by the look on his face.

“Breathe in. Breathe from down here.” She instructs with her hand on his torso. “Breathe out slowly.”

It was taking all the effort of your being to not start laughing at your baby brother, who was staring at his newfound flame like she was the only person in the world.

“Lo’ak. Your heartbeat is fast. Try to focus.”

“Sorry.” he says meekly, and you couldn’t stop yourself - a small chuckle that you tried to no avail to mask as a cough. You turned your face towards your mate, who was also snickering silently, and you both reached for each other’s hands, gleefully reminiscing about your own beginnings.

“What’s this?” Tsireya liked to come by your marui, she did so often, even when there was no one else around but you. You found yourself alone a lot more often these days, as Jake was training with the Olo’eyktan, Neytiri with Ronal, the rest of the siblings were always out in the water, and you found it hard sometimes to find your place in this new life, in this new world. In time, you and Netetam spent less and less time together - he was working hard, as he always was, to make sure he was doing well and pulling his weight. You felt a bit jealous over the fact that you no longer felt important to the kids, especially to Tuk, who now spends most of her time with the Metkayina girl, going as far as to adopt her way of dressing. It’s been a while since you and Lo’ak were alone and bonded over your many shared interests, as all his attention was now swiftly placed on the girl sitting in front of you. Between all of that, your hardships adapting to the new environment and feeling the gaping hole that the forest and leaving Norm and Max left in you, you ended up alone a lot, in this Marui that you learnt every square inch of.

Your gaze turned towards what she was pointed at, and fell on your guitar. “It’s called a guitar. It plays music.” You smiled at her. You liked Tsireya, and didn’t feel any resentment towards her, despite what the darkest parts of your being told you. She had a kind soul, a brave heart. And if there was anyone to replace you in Lo’ak and Kiri and Tuk’s heart, you were happy it was her.

“Can you show me?”

“Sure I can, but only if you ask me in English.” That was one of the things you have liked the most about being here - your daily English and Sign Language lessons with Tsireya. She taught you, you taught her, and it was the only thing you felt good at, so you always looked forward to it.

“Can…” you encouraged her with your expression, urging her to go on. “..you…see…me?”

“Show.” She smiled apologetically, a small blush colouring her cheeks.

“That’s great, Tsireya! You’re getting better every day.”

You picked up the guitar and tuned it quickly, and then played a familiar tune, humming mindlessly as your fingers glided across the strings.

“You have a beautiful voice. You should sing more, you should sing during our communal dinners.”

You smiled a small, sorrowful smile. You used to do that in the clan all the time - your clan. You wondered if this would ever feel the same.

“Why are you so intent on learning English? I mean, you have no real use for it.” You knew the answer as you asked, but you were curious to see her fumbling for an explanation outside of ‘I’m desperately in love with a boy who is half human and speaks English every day with you’.

It was just as amusing as you imagined it, and you felt a little bad for how hard she was blushing as she was picking at nothing on her loincloth. “It just seems useful, with all the humans that are plaguing our planet.”

“That makes sense… you can also just admit you like Lo’ak, you know?” You placed a hand on hers, trying to get her to stop messing with her clothes. “He likes you too, you know?”

You smiled widely at her doe-eyed expression, so overcome with happiness, your mood shifted instantly to one of hope, that at least something good came of all of this.

Gideon watched as Spider and Quaritch made their way to the helicopter they were all huddled in, and he felt grateful that the kid didn’t have to suffer anymore. As soon as he was inside, he immediately gripped the gun posted in the door, and Gideon reached over and pushed him on the seat.

“Woah, hold on there, hot shot.”

Quaritch was not far behind, and when he entered, he grabbed his son by the arm and spoke to him. “You listen up. There’s a tracker built in that mask. We hit the ground and you take off, I’ll have you back in two minutes and give you an old-school ass whipping. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Avatars landed in the midst of the forest, huddled together to listen for instructions from their commander.

“Ok, listen up. Jake Sully’s gone underground. Don’t matter. Wherever he is, we’ll find him… and his batshit crazy wife too. To do so, we go Na'vi. Full tilt all the way. That means we eat Na’vi, we ride Na’vi, think Na’vi.”

“And that starts with speaking the language.” Gideon knew a little more Na’vi than most soldiers, having learnt it in time from his beautiful Jo. He knew enough to know Quaritch was butchering it, and badly. He heard Spider snicker mockingly.

“Is that what you call speaking Na’vi?” Spider continued, but Gideon didn’t pick up what he was saying.

“Alright, smart guy. You just went from being our monkey mascot to official interpreter.”

It’s been a few weeks since you have arrived in Awa’atlu, and things were slowly moving forward. You were getting slowly - very slowly - better at this whole water thing. This morning, you decided to leave Neteyam alone with his parents for a while, thinking it would be beneficial for them all to spend some time together, outside of military training and practice. You and Kiri settled on going to the beach and just enjoying the clear warm water and endless sandy shores. You loved spending time with Kiri, and you felt guilty that it’s been a long time since you were just the two of you, alone together, talking about everything and nothing, just being in each other’s presence enough to fill endless amounts of time. You always felt connected to her, and you had a lot in common, which has always brought you two together. You used to spend many an hour just discussing your mothers, going through footage of them both, trying to understand the biology as children, just so you can feel closer to them, feel like they weren’t gone.

You were laying together on the sand, laughing at something she said, when she became a little more serious and turned her gaze to you.

“How are you? Like really?”

You were a little taken aback by her line of questioning, and the sudden shift in the mood of the conversation. You thought about it for a second.

“I don’t know, to be honest. There’s just a lot going on, a lot of new to adjust to. But then again, we are all going through the same things, so I can’t complain.”

“Well, we are not all going through the same thing. It’s only one of us whose father rose from the dead and is now attacking us. Well, actually…” Her voice faded when she realised, and a small tears fell down her cheek, before she quickly brushed it away with her hand.

“I’m sorry about Spider, Kiri. I know how much he means to you. But I think you shouldn’t be too worried. He’s a tough kid, this knucklehead brother of ours, and he’s going to be back with us in no time.”

“I hope so.”

“Do you think you’ll ever reach out to your dad?”

You scoffed, resigning yourself to drawing little figures in the sand. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. And I don’t think there’s any point. He’s always been dead to me, why change anything now?”

Kiri rolled her eyes at your stubbornness, but to be fair, he couldn’t blame you for not wanting to relive a part of your traumatic human life.

“Let’s go in the water.”

You were both just looking at the sand in the water, her - just because she liked it, you because you needed to get better at breathing underwater and fast. She was laughing as she watched you struggle and you almost drowned, but then continued for a while, enjoying yourselves until turquoise feet came into your line of sight. You brought your head out of the water and saw Ao’nung and Rot’xo, as well as two other Metkayina boys you have never met before.

“What? What’d you say?” Said Kiri innocently. Neither of you heard whatever it was they said just a few seconds ago, but based on their mocking tones and faces, you assumed you were about to get very angry.

“I said, are you some kind of a freak?”

You hissed, barring your much larger canines at the people in front of you, placing a protective arm in front of your baby sister.

“No…” Kiri continued, trying to move away from them, but they were unrelenting, following you across the beach.

“Are you sure? I mean, you’re not even real Na’vi. I mean, look at these hands. Look at them.”

You pushed the boy as he reached for your hands, and Lo’ak’s voice broke through all the noise, bringing all the attention to him.

“Back off, fish lips.” He walked until he was so close to Ao’nung, he started backing away to maintain the distance between them, but continued laughing and insulting your appearance.

“Oh, another four-fingered freak.”

They all got impossibly close to you, starting to touch your body. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a blue form moving quickly towards you, and you knew instantly who it was, and you were now worried for the men currently harassing you. Neteyam put his body in between yours and the Metkayina’s, aggressively pushing Ao’nung away. God, he was hot. You were a lucky girl, you thought to yourself, smirking at the new development.

“Back. Off. Now.” A flash of fear crossed Ao’nung’s face, and with his stupid smile wiped off, he brought his arms out in defeat, backing slowly away from all of you.

“Smart choice.” Neteyam was fuming, you noted by his tone and voice, but he maintained his calm demeanour, always choosing to try the non-violent way first, if possible.

He looked at each one of the boys individually, before he continued. “From now on, I need you to respect my family.” He placed a gentle hand on Kiri’s shoulder, silently telling her to leave, and he did the same to Lo’ak, who kept looking back at the perpetrators. Your eyes locked and you thanked him silently, to which he gave a soft smile, before clicking his tongue in Kiri’s direction, asking you to follow. As you did, you notice Lo’ak falling behind, until his body was fully turned away from you and the rest of his siblings.

“Lo’ak.” You snarled in his direction, knowing all too well where this was headed.

“Don’t worry, sis. I got this.”

Those words have literally not once not made you worry.

He made his way back to where all the boys were, and stopped only when he was in front of the Olo’eyktan’s son.

“ I know this hand is funny.” He says, bring his hand into view, twisting it around to show it from every angle. He points his pinky, raising it even closer to Ao’nung’s face. “Look, I’m a freak. Alien.”

“But it can do something really cool. Watch. First, I ball it up really tight like this, ok? And then -“ you watched as Lo’ak punched him straight in the nose, and then twice more, in the chin and cheek. “It’s called a punch, bitch. Don’t ever touch my sisters again.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes at Lo’ak, but were a little impressed with his technique, that you knew Jake would be proud of under normal circumstances. A full-blown brawl emerged, a tangled mess of limbs and tails, and you saw Neteyam scratch his face and huff in amusement, joining in to stand up for his brother. In any other conditions, you would be mad about this, mad about Lo’ak’s immaturity and Neteyam’s interference, that you knew would cost him a big scolding from the Sully patriarch, but you couldn’t help the little smirk and swell of pride that overtook your being, watching your two men trash the four Metkayina boys, watch them get what they deserved for the weeks of incessant bullying. You and Kiri both started laughing, just watching and enjoying the show, before you felt like it had gotten far enough, at which point, you decided to break it apart, and take your family home.

Neteyam watched his dad’s body go stiff as soon as his eyes landed on his two sons, who were bleeding and bruised, and knew he was in for the ass-kicking on a lifetime. He felt mildly comforted by your being, knowing his father never lost it as much anymore when you were around. As you entered the marui, you instantly went to your medical bag, and left them to their own devices.

“What was the one thing I asked? The one thing?”

“Stay out of trouble.”

“Stay out of trouble!”

“It was my fault.” Neteyam put his hands up in defence, positioning his body between his father and baby brother’s. He heard a low growl coming from where you where, and he saw his dad look over to you, taking in all the information he was receiving.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. You have got to stop taking the hit for this knucklehead.”

“Look, dad, Ao’nung was picking on them. Called them freaks.”

Their dad stopped in his tracks, eyeing them intently, then sighed deeply. He knew then the fight was over. Jake Sully could stand a lot, but disrespect to his own family, especially his daughters, will not be tolerated.

“Is this true?” He saw his eyes go back to where you were, and Neteyam watched as you made your way back to them with supplies in hand.

“Yes, it’s true. Jake, they have been bullying us for weeks. I don’t care about myself, but it’s getting to Kiri. They had it coming.”

“You’re not helping.” Jake rolled his eyes at his new daughter, but couldn’t hide a ghost of a smile.

“Go apologise to Ao’nung.”

“He’s the chief’s son, do you understand?”

“I don’t care how you do it, just go make peace. Just go.”

“Hello? Let me at least clean their wounds first. Lo’ak!” But it was too late, as with a shake of his head, Lo’ak was gone. You turned your head to his father, with a cross expression marring your features.

“I know you’re unhappy, but there’s rule of conduct that has to be followed. You are Na’vi now, it’s time you learn.”

You rolled your eyes, but said no more. You motioned for Neteyam to follow you outside, and he did, before turning back around when he heard his dad’s voice.

“Hey…so what’d the other guys look like?”

Neteyam smirked. “Worse.”

“That’s good.”

“A lot worse.”

With a small smile, his father pointed at where you stood. “Get out of here. And keep an eye on your brother.”

You felt intense annoyance overtake your being as you were patching up Neteyam yet again, for - yet again - another one of Lo’ak’s reckless decisions. You said a silent prayer to Eywa that at least this time it wasn’t as serious, but still, it brought back many painful memories and many unresolved issues within you. You found yourself angry yet again, at your baby brother, at your mate, at your surrogate dad, who all were happy to let Neteyam take the fall for everything. You’d hoped with the Olo’eyktan pressure out of the way, things would change. You hoped that he would finally be safe, finally yours to keep, so you can shake off this feeling that you were going to lose him and move on - move forward, start a family in time. But he wasn’t ready. It was made clear to you again today, like it has been many times before.

“Atan…”

You didn’t want to bring it up yet again, this conversation you have had one too many times, so you continued cleaning his wounds, mostly found on his face. His lip was bleeding, and he licked the blood off which he regretted when you smacked him across the arm.

“Stop that. Let me clean it.”

“Let’s go for a swim, just you and me? I feel like we don’t get that much time to ourselves anymore.”

You sighed as you continued patching him up, feeling tears swimming in your eyes. You chewed on your bottom lip mindlessly, trying to ignore all the feelings of inadequacy that have been plaguing you for weeks, trying to ignore how your heart sank at the thought of the home you left behind, that you couldn’t seem to forget as easily as everyone else did.

“Life was easier when swimming just meant splashing around in the river of our clearing and you carrying me around like I was a doll pushed away by the current.”

“It was, but this can be easier, too. You just have to want it, Atan. You are not a doll anymore, but a rock - unwieldy and unmoving against the current. You have to remember what it’s like to just let yourself go with it, and see where it takes you. I miss home too, so much I will never be able to express into words. But I also want to make the best out of a bad situation. So let’s go, just you and me, let’s swim. Let’s flow with the current.”

“I always thought I was the philosophical one.”

“You’re the science-y one, and I still have some aces up my sleeve.” He winked at you with his boyish smile you loved so much, and you knew he was right. You could be making more of an effort.

“Fine…”

You were happy you went with him. Turns out swimming just for the sake of swimming and not trying to compete or not make a fool of yourself was liberating you and making you perform better, and in no time, you managed to break your own - albeit unimpressive - breathing record. You both called for an ilu, and just enjoyed yourself, admiring the beauty all around you, admiring each other, tumbling and doing acrobatics on the back of your new marine friends. You both came up for air at the same time, and he had an awe-struck look to him, and you felt blood rush to your cheeks at how he was staring you down.

“See, Atan? You’re annoyingly good at everything you do, you just needed a good teacher.” You both laughed at his comments, and you raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Are you saying Tsireya’s not a good teacher?”

“No, I think Tsireya’s a great teacher. You just need a… more assertive presence.”

“Is that so?” You say with the same expression on your face.

He growls lowly. “Let’s go back in before I show everyone in this village things they will never be able to unsee.”

You were actually impressed with yourself by eclipse, as you have made more progress in one day than you have in weeks. Tired, but content, you made your way out of the water, your mate close behind you, when Ao’nung came by in a hurry, panting - fear clear on his features.

“… I…”

“Just spill it, what did you do?”

“It was supposed to be funny…”

“What was supposed to be funny, dumbass?”

“I think Lo’ak’s in danger.”

Both you and Neteyam came to a halt, breaths hitched as you took in the boy’s words. Neteyam’s face immediately changed to one you knew well, one that Ao’nung cowered at, one that was forged in time by years of being the future Olo’eyktan.

“What. Did. You. Do?” He spoke lowly, purposefully, enunciating every word.

“He came to apologise, but he did it as a joke, so we took him to Three Brothers and left him there. We thought he’d be back in no time, but it’s been hours and his ilu came back missing part of its fin. It was supposed to be funny.”

You hissed at the same time Neteyam snarled in his direction, moving his body towards his and taking him by his queue roughly. You could see Ao’nung being pushed towards the village, and you considered just calling Neyn and looking for him yourself. It was dark, and even Lo’ak wasn’t this irresponsible. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, fear overcoming you at the thought of your baby brother in danger. You couldn’t imagine how your mate was feeling.

You made your way to your tent, where Neytiri and Jake were.

“Tell them. Tell them what you told me.”

You got on Neyn as soon as Jake gave permission and left alongside Metkayina that would cover the water, while you would look from above. It took a while, but you eventually spotted him, making his way… on top of a huge animal, the biggest you have ever seen. A tulkun - you recognised in awe. It was beautiful, and leaving of trail of mystical glow in the darkness surrounding them. You whistled from on top of your ikran, and watched Lo’ak’s face shoot upwards, a big smile at your sight.

You made Neyn lower you towards where he was floating peacefully, and you watched as Lo’ak said goodbye and ushered his new friend away.

“Need a lift, lil bro?”

You stretched your arm out for him and he took it, getting on your banshee and settling in behind you.

“Expected to see you half dead washed on some stoney shore, not chilling on the back of a tulkun. Want to catch me up?”

“I’m going to kill those assholes.”

“No, you won’t. Still the chief’s son, no matter what a bunch of jerks they are. They’re just bullies, which probably means they have their own shit going on that they are overcompensating for. So tell me.”

“I was attacked by a fucking akula, and he almost got me, but the tulkun saved my life. He was impaled by some sort of metal hook, and I helped him, and we bonded. It was great, Angel. Best thing I have ever done.”

You smiled a little at your brother and his pet name for you, that you were surprised he was still using, endlessly relieved to hear and see him - alive and kicking.

“Why would you go with them, Lo’ak? You know you’re not allowed to go past the reef. Why must you always knock so loudly on death’s door?”

“I was just trying to do what dad told me, just trying to bond with these kids.”

“Bullshit. Maybe you can feed that to the family, but not to me. What’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know, Angel. When he told me, I instantly said no, but then he teased that he’s asking the wrong brother, and… I don’t know. Whenever someone compares me to Neteyam, it triggers something in me, a blind rage that I can’t walk away from. I’m -“

His train of thought was interrupted by a big horn announcing his return, and you saw the village in an uproar, waiting for your arrival. The last thought on your mind is that you and Lo’ak will forever be bound together by your daddy issues.

You landed on a wooden platform, in front of Neteyam and Jake, as well as Tonowari and his family. Jake rushed to his son’s side, checking for injuries, as Lo’ak angrily kept his gaze onto Ao’nung, ready to pounce on him at the earliest opportunity.

“Let’s have a look at you.” Jake said worriedly, trying to also defuse the tense situation unfolding in front of him.

“He’s fine, he’s fine. Just a few scratches.”

Neytiri made her way through the crowd and rushed to her son’s side, gasping while she took him in. “I pray for the strength that I will not PLUCK the eyeballs out of my youngest son.” You saw her ears flatten in fury, mirroring his own submissive ones, so pushed back they were getting lost in his hair.

“No! My son knows better than to take him outside the reef. The blame is his.” You saw a wince make its way on the Olo’eyktan’s son’s face, and you felt a small ping of sadness at the sight - it reminded you a lot of Lo’ak and how he is treated by Jake. It seems you found a reason for Ao'nung's need to bully others.

Relived, Jake took you both and started making his way home. “No. This was not Ao’nung’s fault. This was my idea. Ao’nung tried to talk me out of it.” Oh, baby brother…

“Sorry.”

Jake sighed looking at Tonowari, and started walking away. “I got this.”

As you walked away, hand tightly in Neteyam’s, Lo’ak turned to face his family. “Dad, you told me to make friends with these kids. That’s all I was trying t-“

“I don’t want to hear it. You brought shame to this family.”

A low guttural snarl made its way out of you without your consent or control. You hated how Jake treated Lo’ak, hated how this was the exact reason Lo’ak always acted out, what then got Neteyam involved and endangered. Jake looked at you out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing about your little outburst.

“Can I go now?”

“Any more trouble you get a knot in your tail. Do you read me?”

“Yes, sir. Lima Charlie.” You saw Lo’ak walk away, and you wanted to follow him, wanted to talk him down, but you were interrupted when both the parents turned to you and Neteyam.

“Where were you?” Neytiri says, a stern look on her face.

“Yeah, what happened to keeping an eye on your brother?”

You nose flared and your teeth bared at the unfairness of it all. You couldn’t believe either of them, and you could believe Neteyam even less when all he said was a quiet “Sorry, sir.”

Neteyam and his mum walked ahead when Jake pulled on your arm, keeping you in place.

“You have something to say, kid? It seems you’re very vocal about your opinions today.”

“Oh, there’s a lot I have to say. But I’m too pretty to have to live by myself in the forest when you kick me out of the marui.”

“That’s never stopped you before. What, you think I’m too harsh?”

“On your adolescent son who looks at you like the universe was born in your eyes and does everything he does to gain some respect, some recognition, some love, and all he gets in return is constant ass chewing and disappointed stares? Yeah, a little.”

Jake removed his hand from you and took a step back. His widened eyes took a second to recover, and a hard look replaced it when he found his composure at last.

“Lo’ak will live because of me. Because he won’t have to make the same mistakes I did, because I can stop him from being just like I was at his age.”

“I think all you’re doing is pushing him into those mistakes without realising. Look, I have hated my dad my whole life. I just don’t want Lo’ak to hate you, because unlike my dad, I love you. And I love him. And neither of you will make it in one piece if you keep going like this. You’re going to push him so far he will never recover, and you’ll hate yourself when that happens. And by that time, it’ll be too late to fix it. You still have time to fix this.”

You turned around and walked away, and hoped in silence their relationship has a better chance of surviving than yours and your father’s did.

Gideon landed in the forest that housed the Omatikaya on the back of his new banshee, a beautiful beast that he felt more connected to than to most people he’s ever met. It was surreal and a little scary, feeling another being’s heartbeat, breathing, emotions. He could tell when the banshee was anxious, or scared, or elated. He could feel it all. In return, Ikran (not the most original name, Gideon can admit) could sense his emotions, how frightened he was when he first connected their queues together, how free he felt on his first flight, how anxious he is feeling right now, having to rummage through the forest for a sign of the people he is meant to kill. They all spread out, hoping to cover more ground this way, and so he was left alone, with his thoughts that plagued him without interruption.

The forest was lush and brimming with life, and Gideon stopped to admire it for a while, to feel the beauty that surrounds him. He was close to the village, close to the labs that were now just empty, lifeless metal crates and he couldn’t help wonder how many times Jo passed the exact spot he was currently on, how many times his daughter did. He’s learnt a couple more things in the weeks that have passed, a small bond forming between him and the blonde kid with a big mouth and an equally big heart.

Your name was something him and Jo have discussed before, on one starry-night escapade, laying on the Pandoran grass that was dangerous for both of them, while making plans for the future.

“And if we have a daughter, I think we should name her after that crazy aunt of yours - what was her name again?”

“You want to name my daughter after my crazy aunt?”

“Well, yeah, she was good crazy, driven crazy, smart-ass crazy, cat-lady crazy, and that’s exactly what I want my daughter to be.”

“My Jo, you are weird.”

“You love it.”

“I do love it, you crazy girl.”

He couldn’t believe that he had a daughter. A 19 year old daughter, who grew up completely without him, whose presence in her life is non-existent at best, tortured and messy in most-probable reality. Gideon didn’t know how he died - didn’t know if he ended up executing his orders or following his heart and he felt guilty either way. He was betraying one family or the other, no matter the choice.

As he was walking through the wilderness surrounding him, he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of a small clearing, full of scattered light that left pleasing forms on the ground. He was stunned when his gaze landed on two exo suits, like the ones the RDA still used. Residue from the battle that transpired almost two decades ago, no doubt. He was surprised to find out the RDA just left these here, surely they could be used for spare parts. As he was walking towards one of them, he reached for his radio in order to call it in and have someone pick it up, when he saw the name on it, that was covered in vines. BARLOWE. His hand dropped instantly, reaching instead to break down the creepers to see better. So this is how it all ended. There was no body that Gideon could reasonably see anywhere, so he assumed he died somewhere else, alone on this planet where no one could find him, no one could mourn him.

He took the screen on the exo suit in his hands, that looked a little less dusty and disheveled than the rest of the suit, and fiddled with it until he could hear it start up. The last few moments of his life would play out in front of his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face it.

In his viewpoint stood Weinfleet, reloading his gun and pointing with his exo-hand.

“Captain, I think if we go through this clearing, we should be closing in on the tree of souls in about 3 clicks.”

“You’re right. But I don’t think we should do it.”

Lyle looked stunned, and he stopped whatever he was doing to turn around and look and where Gideon stood. “Barlowe, what are you talking about?”

“This is wrong, Lyle. You know it, I know it, everyone here fucking knows it. And if you don’t, you’re even a bigger psychopath than I thought you were. We have to go back.”

“I’m not fucking going anywhere, Captain. These freaks are going to kill all of us if they get their way. Someone has to stop them.”

Gideon saw himself pick up his gun and point it at the bald man he knew too well. “Are you disobeying direct orders, lieutenant?”

“You’re not my squad leader, Captain. And I have orders from above.”

The last thing Gideon saw was the ugly fight that ensued and that resulted in both of them needing to evacuate their suits. The last shot of the camera was Weinfleet hurrying to him with a knife.

Gideon Barlowe could count on one hand the amount of times he had been left speechless in his life, and most of them ironically happened in the last few weeks. There were so many shocks to his system, he felt he would short-circuit in time, nothing left of him but fragments of a soul no one would be able to upcycle.

Betrayed by his own squad. What a shit way to go. Although, he assumed he had betrayed them first - it was at least consolation to know he didn’t go to the planes of eternal life with his last act being genocide of innocent people. He had chosen right. He had chosen to sacrifice himself for the good of this planet, that was a lot more beautiful than his own, for his soul that was maybe not as broken as he had thought, for his love who lived and raised a daughter 10 years after his passing. He had done the right thing.

He continued walking to a tree, where he spotted something that he couldn’t quite place. He now had to count on both hands, cause there he was - again - too stunned to speak. There was a skeleton in the natural nook made by the roots of the tree, and Gideon reached his hand in between the flowers and vines covering it to pick up a rock and a necklace he quickly recognised as his own dog tag. The rock was decorated with shapes and patterns, typical of the Na’vi, and in the middle, was writing carved on the surface.

“You won’t be forgotten, dad. Thank you.”

Gideon held the rock so tightly his knuckles were pale blue, almost white. He wiped the tear that fell down his face and swore he would make himself worthy of your gratitude.

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @eternallyvenus @fresh-new-yoik-watah @lu-the-ghost-reader @@miawastakens @mm0thie @fanboyluvr

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aebi12 · 24 days

Text

"Resentment" - Chapter 18 [AemondxRhaena]

Summary

He is the cause of her sufferings. He took her dragon, her betrothed, and her father. Now, he will also take away her future by having to marry him.

With so much history and bad blood between Rhaena and Aemond, their forced union has everything to fail, except that the proximity will make them discover that perhaps they have more in common than it seems.

AU - the Greens win the war.

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8 - Chapter 9 - Chapter 10 - Chapter 11 - Chapter 12 - Chapter 13 - Chapter 14 - Chapter 15 - Chapter 16 - Chapter 17

Masterlist of my other works.

Tags: enemies to lovers, slow burn, romance, angst, drama, eventual smut, hurt/comfort

Please remember that english is not my first language, so I'm sorry for the mistakes...

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Marianne enters her room as the sun’s rays are just beginning to rise.

“Good morning, Rhaena,” she announces in a sing-song voice as she draws the curtains, “It is good to find you awake for a change.”

“Mmm,” she grumbles, still in the sheets, “Why are you in such a good mood? It is way too early!”

“It is a special day, don’t you think?” her lady walks to the edge of her bed, “It is not every day we get to witness a tournament. Besides…”

A lovely blush appears on her cheeks and Rhaena smiles from ear to ear, thinking she knows what it is all about.

“Daeron asked for your favor, didn’t he?”

“Yes, yes, he did,” she confirms, blushing even more.

“I knew it!” Rhaena crawls through the sheets, excited, until she sits beside her friend, “Did you dance with him? What else did he say to you?”

“Not much, we just danced a couple songs because then he excused and went to speak with Prince Aemond. And then Prince Aemond abruptly left and you mysteriously disappeared from the banquet, anything you want to tell me?”

“I was feeling overwhelmed, to tell you the truth.”

“Overwhelmed,” her friend repeats, looking at her.

Rhaena sighs and tells Marianne about her conversation with Corwyn and Aemond’s threat from the night before, though she leaves out the detail of how close their bodies had been, of his fingers on her lips and… Rhaena shudders, pushing that memory aside.

“Clearly the prince is jealous,” Marianne comments, her voice more excited than was appropriate for the situation, “He forbade you from approaching ser Corwyn. That is…”

“An overreaction,” she replies, frowning, “He basically implied that I take my virtue lightly and that Corwyn and I are closer than we should be.”

“Well, yes, that was very out of line,” Marianne admits, “The prince should know that it is not your custom to act in such a manner. Ever since you arrived, and even before, you have always maintained an impeccable reputation. His concerns are unfounded.”

“They are,” she asserts vehemently.

“Still… it seems that Ser Corwyn has not understood that very well.”

Rhaena flops down on the bed, closing her eyes for a moment, “I did not expect him to throw all those things at me yesterday.”

“Did you enjoy hearing them?”

Her lady meets her gaze and it takes Rhaena a moment to respond, “I do not know,” she admits.

“That is a problem,” Marianne sighs.

There is a moment of silence between them, until her lady speaks again.

“I think… I think you should not jeopardize what you have built with the prince for… for whatever it is you feel about Ser Corwyn,” she dares to say, blushing as much as before, “After all, the wedding is in just a few days. Ser Corwyn will eventually return to the Vale and you will be Aemond Targaryen’s wife. Nurturing your old friend’s hopes will not change that fact”

“I am quite clear about that, Marianne, believe me,” she assures her.

Still, a lump form in her throat. She had spent a good part of the night thinking about Corwyn’s words. How much she would have given to hear them when she was still a free lady in the Vale! How much could have changed if the knight had confessed his feelings sooner. It is not like Rhaena hadn’t suspected it before. She herself, she thinks, had contributed to the affection between them growing over the years and transforming into something more.

But none of that matters now. Your friend is right.

“There is more,” she says, sitting back down, “Aemond said that Alyn requested permission to marry Baela.”

Marianne widens her eyes comically, but her response is interrupted by the maids bringing in trays of food and the dress from that morning.

“Leave everything here, I will personally attend Lady Rhaena.”

The maids leave the room and the young women sit down at the table. Marianne wastes no time in bringing up the subject again, “That news is unexpected. I thought your sister would keep her… options open.”

“I thought the same,” she admits, “Though I assume it makes sense. One way or another, she has as much or more right to that inheritance than Alyn.”

Marianne nods and says after nibbling on her dates, “I met Lord Alyn yesterday.”

“Oh. Was he at the banquet? I don’t remember seeing him.”

“Perhaps because you left before he could introduce himself.”

“And what impression did he make on you?”

“He seemed… solemn. Quiet, serious.”

“Mmm,” Rhaena sighs, “Baela said he was a good person.”

“And during the days you two spent together, your sister never hinted at her plans to marry him?”

“Not at all,” she frowns, “Though perhaps I should have guessed. From what she told me of her life on the island, they clearly have a good relationship. Or I hope so, I wouldn’t want her to be forced into a union she does not desire, or for her to have made the decision hastily.”

“And what does the prince think of such a marriage?”

“I don’t really know, we didn’t have much time to discuss it,” she shrugs, “But I doubt the crown would object, I mean, what reasons would they have to do so?”

“None. It is just another union between houses, and we are in times of peace, right? There would be no point in refusing.”

Rhaena nods, though her lady’s mention of times of peace brings to mind Baela’s words about waiting for her chance for revenge. The girl watches her friend’s clear eyes, her expression relaxed and innocent as she sips her juice. Part of her wants to confess what her sister implied, to unburden some of her worries on a friendly shoulder, but she knows it’s better to keep quiet. And not because she doesn’t trust Marianne, but because it’s better not to involve her in whatever Baela’s plans are.

One more reason for you to have a serious conversation with Alyn Velaryon, she thinks.

“Rhaena? Are you listening to me?” The question snaps her out of her thoughts and she nods quickly, “We must hurry. We’ll have to take the carriage to the royal forest.”

Rhaena lets her friend take over, fixing her hair and selecting her jewelry, “I am sorry about the prince, but you won’t be wearing that butterfly necklace today,” she says as she puts a beautiful, albeit heavy, gold necklace with embedded rubies in her neck, “Yes, this is the one. It matches your dress.”

The chosen crimson and gold dress fit comfortably on her figure, leaving her shoulders bare.

“You look lovely today, by the way,” Rhaena comments.

“I hope Prince Daeron thinks so too,” Marianne ventures.

Rhaena links arms and they leave her room, “I am certain he will. Now, tell me, Daeron aside, who do you think will shine at the tournament?”

“Benjicot Blackwood is a strong contender.”

“Is Lord Benjicot here?”

“Lady Blackwood confirmed that to me yesterday,” Marianne nods. “Before I forget, we were invited to dine in her chambers today. Us, and Lady Redwyne, as well as my aunt, Lady Johanna.”

“I did not know your aunt was in the capital.”

“She decided to come and take the opportunity to find a husband for my cousin Tyshara. You will meet them tonight. My aunt is particularly interested in making your acquaintance.”

“No more than I am,” Rhaena assures, “Besides, I miss the conversations of the old ladies of the court,” she giggles

“You grow fond of them, don’t you?”

They both stop suddenly when a tall, burly man stops in front of them. It doesn’t take Rhaena long to guess who he is, and she doesn’t need to see the seahorse designs embroidered on the front of his doublet. The man is a younger version of her grandfather, Lord Corlys. The resemblance is so great that it astonishes her for a few seconds, leaving her speechless.

“Good morning, Lord Alyn,” Marianne greets with a kind smile

“Lady Westerling, Lady Rhaena,” he greets in a solemn tone

“Are you heading to the tournament, my lord?” once again it is her lady who speaks

“Indeed. And I was hoping to have my cousin’s company on the journey.”

His gaze falls on Rhaena, who had still been openly examining his appearance. Marianne strokes her arm and turns her gaze to her, who clearly wants to know if she will accept Alyn’s offer. Rhaena doesn’t particularly want to go with him, but she knows it would be rude to refuse, so she ends up nodding.

“Of course, my lord. If you both excuse me, I will find another carriage.”

Marianne leaves them alone and Alyn extends his arm to Rhaena.

“Thank you,” she says as they cross the courtyard of the Keep in silence and climb into one of the several carriages set to transport them to the tournament site.

“It is an honor to finally meet you, cousin,” Alyn says once they are comfortably seated.

“I say the same, Lord Alyn,” she nods, giving him a polite smile.

“I was hoping we could have a little chat alone,” he says as the carriage moves into motion.

“I hear you, my lord.”

“There is no need to be so formal,” he replies, frowning, “We are family after all.”

When Rhaena nods, there are a few minutes of awkward silence between them. She is aware that her cousin is watching her with apprehension, but she does not intend to say more. She does not know exactly why, and she does not like to think that she is being rude, but she prefers to let him make the effort to converse with her.

“I am sure you know that I will be the one to escort you to the sept on your wedding day.”

“I know that, and I appreciate your consideration.”

“Of course, it is my duty. Besides, it will be a pleasure to do so, of course,” he says quickly, frowning again, “I hope that these days can serve to get to know each other better, cousin. Surely your sister told you that you can count on me for whatever you need. Although you are a Targaryen, you are also part of the Velaryon family. And I want to make sure you are treated appropriately and befitting your position.”

Rhaena raises her eyebrows at him, fighting back the urge to ask where that sense of family was when he practically left her to fend for herself at the Eyrie even though, as lord of Driftmark, he could have welcomed her on the island as well.

Maybe Baela was enough for him, that pesky voice in her mind says.

“I appreciate your noble intentions,” she simply replies.

There is another moment of silence. Rhaena turns her face to look at the road and realizes that they have already left the city. The carriage sways as it makes its way through the rough stretches towards the royal forest.

“I would also like to take this opportunity to let you know that your sister and I…”

“Are you planning to get married?” she interrupts, turning to look at him, “I am aware.”

The shock is clearly reflected on his face, “Baela assured me that she had not told you about our plans.”

“Did you speak to her?” it is her turn to be surprised.

“We met during our journey on the Blackwater,” he replies, “She assured me that she had not been able to tell you about our coming wedding.”

“Was it really for a lack of opportunities or a lack of desire to convey the news?” she asks in a harsher voice than she intends.

“The circumstances of her visit were not appropriate. Your sister did not feel at ease in the Red Keep.”

“Yes, I noticed that,” she replies and then stares at him, “I want to believe that my sister is not being forced into such a union. I know that our situation is not ideal. We are nothing more than two young noble ladies with no parents and no other relatives, no lands or money. I hope you have not…”

“Taken advantage of the situation?” he finishes. To her surprise, a smile appears on his face, “I also know what it is like to be in a precarious situation. In a different way, of course, but I would not dare abuse my position to try to subdue your sister. I would not even try.”

Rhaena studies his expression for a moment, debating his honesty.

“I hope so,” she finishes by saying.

“We decided to marry because we feel a deep affection for each other,” Alyn says, “I assure you, cousin Rhaena, that I will make your sister happy, just as she makes me happy.”

His words ease her worries somewhat. She doesn't believe Alyn is lying to her, not when his voice sounds full of affection for her sister, but she intends to write to her anyway and ask for explanations.

“That is good to know,” she says simply, grateful that the carriage has stopped.

Alyn helps her down and Rhaena looks around at the numerous tents with squires, servants and grooms coming in and out to ready the horses. Everything is so colorful, everything seems so full of life and there is a clear excitement in the air that Rhaena can’t help but get excited. Maybe Marianne is right and the tournament will turn out to be more interesting than she imagines.

“Come, cousin, let me accompany you.”

Rhaena takes his arm and they walk over to where an oval stone structure, which she assumes is the arena for the jousts, stands imposingly. Several nobles are heading there as well, though Rhaena doesn’t stop to chat with any of them. And when her eyes meet Corwyn’s, she quickly looks away, remembering her conversation with her lady.

Rhaena bids Alyn farewell and walks up the stairs to the main platform. As she arrives, she notices that several members of the royal council, the high septon, and Queen Alicent are already seated. As is Aemond. Although his back is turned to her, nerves take over at the sight of him.

“Lady Rhaena, we were expecting you.”

“Queen Alicent,” she greets, walking up to the woman, “I am sorry I am late.”

The woman offers her a polite smile, “You are just in time, we have not even started yet.”

The Dowager Queen turns her gaze to the arena, where the banners of the contestant houses are already set up. Rhaena notices the slight tremor in the woman’s hands, who keeps fidgeting with her rings as she looks around apprehensively. The girl wonders if she is looking for Daeron.

“Surely Prince Daeron will show his talents this morning,” she is heard saying, “And the gods will watch over him at all times.”

Her words seem to surprise the Dowager Queen, who softens her expression and nods, “May the gods protect us all.”

Rhaena offers her one last smile before turning and finding her place. Though there are a couple of empty spots next to the council members, she knows she is expected to sit in the chair next to Aemond. So, ignoring the tingling in her stomach, she walks over to her cousin, sitting gracefully and smoothing out the folds of her dress.

“Good morning, cousin,” she greets politely, tilting her face toward him and offering a tentative smile.

“Rhaena,” he replies, looking back at her, “What caused you to be late?”

“Lord Alyn Velaryon”

Aemond raises his eyebrows at her, clearly asking her to explain.

“My cousin wanted to introduce, and let me in on the news of his betrothal to my sister.”

“Did you question him about his motives?”

“I made my concerns known to him, yes,” she nods, “He assured me that they are unfounded. That he has under no circumstances pressured my sister into agreeing to marry him and what’s more… he told me that it is their affection for each other that motivates them to unite.”

“And you believed him?” he asks, curious, turning his body towards her.

“I found his words sincere, yes,” she admits with a sigh, “He takes it for granted that the wedding will take place, though I got the impression, from what you said yesterday, that the Crown does not seem to favor the union. You said that…”

“That it put more pressure on us,” he recalls, repeating his words from the banquet.

“How will…?”

Rhaena cuts off her question when a trumpet sounds, causing the arena to fall absolutely silent. Queen Alicent stands and walks to the edge of the platform, offering a smile to her subjects before speaking of the fortunate morning and the reason for the tournament. At the mention of their names, Rhaena and Aemond stand, taking a couple of steps to the edge.

“They are chanting our names,” she says with a smile, looking at Aemond.

He frowns, amazed to hear his name as the common people throw roses into the sand, smiling in his direction and shouting phrases that he can’t understand, but imagines are wishes for prosperity.

“Let us salute properly,” Rhaena whispers before clasping their hands and raising them, causing the people to cheer even more enthusiastically.

She waves with her free hand at each end of the arena, and although Aemond doesn’t imitate her, at least he doesn’t break contact abruptly, instead squeezing her hand gently, indicating that they should return to their seats.

Once seated, Rhaena tries to pull her hand away from the prince’s, but he doesn’t allow it. She looks up at him, amazed, but he ignores her, his gaze fixed on the sand and his fingers slowly caressing hers. The rough pads of his fingers forming patterns in the palm of her hand, sending a current of electricity to the rest of her body.

Rhaena swallows and tries to relax by looking at the tournament attendees. In the seats on the sides, the nobles are comfortably seated. She meets the gaze of Marianne, who is talking to a tall, attractive woman with dark hair whom she assumes is her aunt Johanna. Next to them, a young woman with blonde curls seems to observe everything around her with eyes full of wonder.

A little further on, Alyn Velaryon is talking to a man she doesn't know. A couple of steps down she finds Corwyn sitting next to Lord Tarly. Her heart skips a beat at the sight of them together and her suspicions increase when Lord Tarly appears to hand him a scroll which Corwyn quickly puts away in his doublet. Rhaena, who has not forgotten the insinuations the old man made while they were dancing, cannot help but wonder if they are partners in intrigue? Did they know each other? She does not have time to wonder more because she feels Aemond's penetrating gaze on her. “Who are you watching with such concern?”

“No one in particular,” she lies, turning to her cousin

“Mmm,” he narrows his good eye in her direction

“You didn’t answer yourself,” she says quickly, trying to divert his attention, “Why would Baela’s marriage mean more pressure on us?”

“Because if your sister has a son, a part of the kingdom would consider him the heir to the Iron Throne.”

His words take a few seconds to register in her mind. Finally, she makes a dismissive sound, “That is ridiculous. A son of Baela would have royal blood, sure, but he would be far below the line of succession.”

“Not to the noble houses who call my brother Usurper,” he replies harshly.

“Do you think they would rise up to place Baela’s son as king?” she asks in a small voice.

“It is a possibility,” he agrees, “At least the royal council thinks it is a risk we should not take.”

Aemond continues to speak, but she does not listen.

Was that what Baela intended? To marry Alyn Velaryon, a powerful and wealthy lord who would aid her cause in putting her son on the Iron Throne? Was that why she had insisted Rhaena to drink moon tea as often as necessary once Aemond started calling her to his chambers? Surely that was why she had arranged for a trusted servant to be placed in Rhaena's care. To ensure that she had no children. So that nothing would prevent her from placing her own on the throne.

The thought makes her sick. And, strangely, fills her with anger.

Why couldn’t Baela just accept her place? She was going to marry a noble and seemingly decent man. She could have a quiet, peaceful life, full of freedom and comfort. Why did she want to change it all? And especially, why did she want to take away her chance to have her son as the king?

You are being unfair, that little part of her mind says, but she ignores it. Her sister clearly believed her place was not in Driftmark, but in the capital, being the queen, as she had been urged to believe since her betrothal to Jace.

“Rhaena,” Aemond’s voice draws her from her thoughts, his long fingers squeezing her small hand and drawing her attention, “Do not be afraid.”

Their gazes meet for a moment, and unexpectedly, Aemond leans in. Rhaena’s heart skips a beat, and for a moment, she wonders if he is going to kiss her. For a moment, she wishes he would, even though she knows he wouldn’t dare. Not in public, not when… Her thoughts stop as she feels his lips settle near her ear, his warm breath brushing against her skin and causing it to tingle. Though it’s the words he whispers that truly make her heart pound with force, “It will be our children who inherit the throne.”

There is so much conviction in his voice that Rhaena closes her eyes. His lips brush her earlobe and a gasp leaves her lips, though thankfully there is so much noise in the arena that it goes unnoticed.

Aemond pulls away from her, and when he looks at her, there is fire in his gaze. And… desire. A desire that, she thinks, must be similar to what she is feeling. The one that makes her breath come fast and her lower belly seem flooded with a sensation she neither understands nor knows how to describe.

Rhaena looks away, embarrassed, though she notices Aemond’s smug smile. For once, she doesn’t care about his insolence. She chooses to take a deep breath and focus on the fight.

“It is Daeron,” she says suddenly, noticing the dragon-patterned armor of the knight advancing with his heavy lance to the platform.

“He will open the tournament,” Aemond replies with a frown, “Where is he going?”

“I think he is coming to ask a lady's favor,” she smiles

“Not yours, surely,” he mutters under his breath

Rhaena shakes her head and watches her cousin walk over to where Marianne sits. She can’t hear what he says, but she does not need to, because when he points his spear at his lady, she gives him a huge smile before taking the ornament she’s so painstakingly crafted and letting it fall to the base of the spear.

“That was lovely,” Rhaena sighs.

Clearly the people think the same, because they cheer with delight as the prince returns to his place, ready to face Lord Bar Emmon.

“I spoke to him about getting married,” Aemond surprises her.

“Did you?”

“I even mentioned your lady’s name,” he nods. “He seemed to favor the idea.”

“That is good news!”

The smile Rhaena gives him is so wide and sincere, the prince struggles not to return it.

“Do not get your expectations up yet just yet, I need to consult with…”

“Thank you,” she cuts him off, squeezing their clasped hands, “I appreciate the effort.”

The prince nods and watches his brother spur his horse to charge toward his opponent. There is a moment of tense suspense and he hears his mother’s gasp as lances ring out, a horse whinnies, and Lord Bar Emmon falls to the ground. Aemond turns to look at Alicent, who is pale and has raw fingers, but seems tremendously relieved. The people cheer as Prince Daeron emerges triumphant from the arena.

“That was intense,” Rhaena says from beside him

“He shouldn’t have participated,” Aemond grumbles

His betrothed watches him for a few seconds, “You are worried he might get hurt.”

He does not respond, but he does not need to, for Rhaena knows she is right.

The rest of the tournament passes between a succession of different knights, with Lord Blackwood and Lord Manderly standing out as favorites alongside Daeron.

When the last match is finally fought, Rhaena stands up, her legs feeling numb from sitting for so long. Aemond finally lets go of her hand, and follows her down from the platform.

After bidding farewell to the dowager queen, her cousin escorts her to the carriage where Marianne is already waiting.

“I did not expect the tournament to drag on so long,” she confesses as they walk, watching the sun already high in the sky.

“It gets tedious as the hours go by,” Aemond agrees.

“Well, we will just have to tolerate it for a couple more days,” she replies as she smiles at him, stopping near the carriage.

“Yes, just a couple more days,” he nods, looking at her and adds, “And then you will be my wife.”

***

Daeron is not looking for her.

At least not consciously.

Still, he is not surprised to find her in Maegor's Holdfast.

Hardly anyone visits the place anymore, not after what happened with Helaena, so it is the perfect spot to get away from everyone at Court for a while.

Ellyn Baratheon steps away from the windowsill and tilts her face toward him, her expression half annoyed and half relieved at the sight of the prince. Of all the members of the royal family, he was the only one she was glad to see. Though she knew better.

Daeron sits across from her, and the young queen chooses not to look at him, so she turns her gaze toward Blackwater Bay. For a long moment, a comfortable silence settles between them, until he breaks it.

“It is good to see you out of your chambers.”

Ellyn does not answer, she only nods and listens to him sigh before insisting.

“Are you hiding from the Court?”

The woman closes her eyes for a moment, “From my sisters, mainly. They are driving me crazy with their attentions.”

“I know well how it is,” Daeron smiles, “Your absence was felt at the tournament.”

“I doubt it,” she replies, shaking her head, “Lady Rhaena seems to monopolize the attention these days.”

The prince does not miss the bitterness in his sister-in-law’s voice, “You are the queen. We will always love…”

“No, please, Daeron, do not continue,” she cuts him off, finally looking at him. Her dark blue eyes two wells filled with impatience and pain, “You do not need to comfort me. I know well how things are.”

I know what a failure I am, she thinks, looking back at the river.

“I am so sorry about what happened, Ellyn,” the prince’s voice sounds genuinely sad, “I was hoping this time would be different.”

“You and the entire kingdom,” she replies once again, full of bitterness.

Ellyn closes her eyes and a tear rolls down her cheek, but she wipes it away quickly.

She does not plan on crying in front of Daeron. Or in front of anyone else. She’s had enough of that.

When she opens her eyes again, she examines the prince more carefully. He is still wearing his armor, which shows a dent in his thigh.

“Did you have any luck in the tournament?” she asks.

“I did.”

Her eyes drift to the crown of blue flowers in his hands, “Who?”

“Lady Marianne Westerling”

“Good choice,” she replies, feeling a strange lump in her throat, “She is a good girl.”

“I know,” Daeron admits, his voice filled with sadness

Her brother-in-law’s hand finds hers. It is barely a touch, an innocent caress, but Ellyn can’t bear it.

“Daeron, no,” she replies, pulling her hand away

“Ellyn I…”

Against her better judgment, she looks at the prince. His violet eyes look pleading and also helpless.

“Go tend to that wound,” she replies, pointing to his side, where a spear has clearly pierced the flesh and drawn blood.

Her voice is quiet enough that Daeron doesn’t insist.

Ellyn looks back at the bay and feels the prince’s gaze on her for long seconds, until she hears his heavy feet start moving and leaves her alone again.

***

She immediately takes a liking to Lady Johanna Westerling.

Rhaena is enjoying her conversation with the lady of Casterly Rock, who entertains everyone at the table with her anecdotes.

“I can tell my aunt likes you too,” Marianne whispers at her side as they eat dessert.

Once Lady Redwyne’s guests have dispersed into the drawing room, the woman approaches Rhaena.

“I admit I am pleased with you, Lady Rhaena,” she says bluntly, “You are exactly what people comments of you”

“I am glad to hear that, Lady Johanna,” she admits with a smile.

“And I am glad my niece has a fine lady to serve,” she comments as they walk around the room, “I was hoping the same might be true of my daughter.”

“I would be honored to welcome her as one of my ladies.”

“I do not think it would be the best fit for Tyshara,” she replies with a sigh, “Court would provide too many distractions for her, and I am sorry to say that she is not as sensible as her sisters. She needs a husband with character.”

“That is what you came for, is it not?”

“As well,” Lady Johanna admits, “Any suggestions in the matter?”

“Oh no, my lady, I dare not name anyone.”

“Well, you should. Soon the noble ladies of the realm will seek your counsel in that regard.”

“It seems to me that that falls within the queen’s duties,” Rhaena denies.

“Ah, our queen!” Lady Johanna sighs, “Such a young woman, and so unfortunate. The gods can be cruel in their ways.”

Rhaena does not know what to say, so she only nods.

“I hear that Marianne hopes to marry Prince Daeron.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“It was not necessary,” the woman smiles, “I only had to see her at the tournament this morning to see her obvious longing.”

“It is a match I would be pleased with,” Rhaena comments.

“It would please me as welI,” Lady Johanna nods, “It is good to strengthen ties between allies. The crown needs it.”

“Perhaps you should look among one of your allies for Lady Tyshara’s future husband.”

“I had thought of Lord Velaryon, but it seems he is already betrothed.”

“Yes, I found out recently.”

Lady Johanna examines her curiously, “Young Lord Royce is a good candidate.”

“Oh yes, Lord Robb, I know him,” she says quickly, “His father is a good man, honorable and…”

Rhaena begins to tell her about her experiences with House Royce during her stay in the Vale.

“Do you think your aunt would really send your cousin so far away?” she asks Marianne as they walk to her chambers.

“If she thinks it necessary, yes,” her lady replies.

“But the Vale?” Rhaena frowns. “The Lannisters aren’t very well liked there.”

It doesn’t make much sense, she thinks. Great lords usually preferred to marry their daughters to their closest vassals, thus reinforcing the loyalty of lesser houses to their own.

“Well, nothing is set in stone yet, maybe not… Hey!”

Marianne lets out a little cry of protest as a small boy, clearly a servant, runs through their midst.

“How rude,” she comments, watching the boy walk away quickly. “Why would he do that?”

“Because he wanted to give me this,” she whispers, showing her the parchment the boy had skillfully placed in her hand. “Who is it from? Prince Aemond?”

Rhaena places her fingers on Marianne’s lips and they almost run to her room. Once inside, the girl opens the seal and reads the letter. The message is short, and as soon as she reads it, he crumples the parchment in her hands and throws it into the fireplace.

“Why…?”

“It is from Corwyn,” she replies.

“Why is he writing to you?”

“He wants to see me,” she explains, her breathing labored and her body shaking. “He wants me to meet him in the godswood at the hour of the wolf.”

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I'm sorry it took me so long to update, this past weeks were rough. Hopefully you're still into this story, which I do not plan to abandon. Let me know what you think so far? thanks for reading!

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#aemond targaryen #rhaena targaryen #falling in love #rivals to lovers #prince aemond #hotd smut #resentment #drama #angst

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