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callsigns-haze · 1 month

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tyler owens one shot idea: he’s your ex and now your forced to see him again while working with storm parr. and then one drunken night you guys end up hooking up.

Not so past

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Reader

Summary: Tyler and Y/N reunite in a heated, emotional encounter, reigniting their past passion and unresolved feelings during a late-night moment by his truck.

Chapter Warning: Contains explicit sexual content, strong language, and themes of intense emotional conflict.

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the dusty road as Tyler Owens’ team bustled around their truck, preparing for the day ahead. The sky above was a mix of blue and grey, the calm before the inevitable storm—a fitting backdrop for the storm chasers. Dani was securing the last of the equipment, while Dexter double-checked the weather data on his tablet. Javi and Kate, the newest members of the team, exchanged excited glances as they packed away supplies with Lilly and Boone.

As the sound of laughter and banter filled the air, a distant roar of an engine grew louder, capturing everyone’s attention. A sleek motorcycle, its chrome glinting in the sun, pulled up beside the truck. The rider was dressed in a black leather jacket, the emblem of Storm Par emblazoned on the back—a rival storm chasing group.

The team watched as Scott, a burly member of Storm Par, stepped off his own bike and approached the rider. He helped her remove her helmet, revealing a woman with windswept hair and a determined expression. Her eyes scanned the area, seemingly indifferent to the curious stares she was receiving from Tyler's squad.

Tyler, who had been tightening a strap on the truck, froze as he recognized the woman. His breath hitched, and for a moment, he couldn’t tear his eyes away. Memories flooded back—late nights, shared laughter, heated arguments, and the bitter end that had left them both scarred.

“Y/N...” Tyler muttered under his breath, his heart pounding in his chest.

Boone, noticing Tyler's reaction, stepped closer to Javi and Kate, who were both watching the scene unfold with puzzled expressions.

"What's going on?" Kate whispered, glancing at Boone for answers.

Boone sighed, crossing his arms as he kept his eyes on Y/N. "That’s Tyler's ex," he explained quietly, keeping his voice low so it wouldn’t carry. "They broke up two years ago, and it wasn’t pretty. They’ve got a lot of rough history between them."

Javi’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. “No kidding? That explains the tension.”

“Yeah,” Boone continued, his tone sombre. “They were together for a while, practically inseparable at one point. But the work... chasing storms, it’s not exactly easy on relationships. Things went south, and they both went their separate ways. This is the first time they’ve seen each other since.”

Tyler, still staring at Y/N, took a deep breath and forced himself to look away. He needed a moment, a chance to gather his thoughts. “Excuse me,” he muttered to the group, his voice strained. Without waiting for a response, he turned on his heel and walked briskly away from the truck, disappearing behind a nearby trailer.

Dani shot Boone a questioning look, but Boone just shook his head, silently signalling that now wasn’t the time to press for details. The mood among the team shifted, the earlier excitement dampened by the sudden tension.

Y/N handed her helmet to Scott and exchanged a few words with him before turning her attention back to the truck. Her gaze swept over the squad, and she could sense the curiosity and unease. But her eyes didn’t linger on them for long. She knew who she was looking for.

Tyler’s absence didn’t go unnoticed. A flicker of something—regret, sadness, maybe even a touch of anger—crossed her face before she schooled her features into a neutral expression. She had a job to do, just like him. Whatever happened between them was in the past. At least, that’s what she told herself as she turned back to Scott and continued their conversation.

Back at the truck, Boone exchanged a glance with Dani, both of them silently acknowledging the unspoken tension that had settled over the team. "Well," Boone said quietly, “looks like things just got a whole lot more complicated.”

Kate nodded, her curiosity piqued despite the awkwardness. “What do we do now?”

Boone shrugged, his expression grim. “We keep working. Storm’s coming whether we’re ready or not.”

Javi looked at Kate, who gave him a small nod. The two of them resumed their tasks, though the atmosphere was noticeably heavier now. As they worked, they couldn’t help but glance occasionally in the direction Tyler had gone, wondering what this unexpected reunion would mean for the team—and for Tyler himself.

The energy around the truck had shifted from excitement to a more subdued, contemplative mood after Tyler’s unexpected encounter with Y/N.

Javi and Kate were sitting by the cooler, their conversation hushed but animated. The air was filled with the scent of gasoline and the distant rumble of thunder as a storm began to brew. Boone had just finished up some last-minute checks on the equipment, and Dani had gone off to finalize a few details with the weather service.

Kate glanced over at Boone, her curiosity clearly getting the better of her. “Hey Boone,” she said, leaning in slightly, “we were just wondering... What’s the story with Tyler and Y/N?”

Javi nodded in agreement, his gaze focused intently on Boone. “Yeah, what’s the deal? They seem like they’ve got a pretty complicated history. We saw how Tyler reacted when he saw her, and it seemed pretty intense.”

Boone, who had been busy organizing some gear, stopped and let out a long sigh. He wiped his hands on a rag and looked at the two younger team members. There was a moment of hesitation before he spoke, the weight of the past evident in his eyes.

“Alright, I’ll fill you in,” Boone said quietly, glancing around to make sure they were alone. “But it’s a long story. Tyler and Y/N were together for a few years. Two storm chasers who were on the same wavelength, both professionally and personally.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “So, what went wrong? They seem like they were a perfect match.”

Boone nodded, a hint of a smile crossing his lips at the memory. “They were a great team. But chasing storms isn’t exactly a regular 9-to-5 job. The long hours, the travel, the constant danger—it puts a lot of strain on relationships. And that’s what happened with them. The job took its toll.”

Javi leaned forward, clearly intrigued. “Was it just the job that caused the problems, or was there more to it?”

Boone’s expression grew more serious. “It wasn’t just the job. There were personal differences, too. They had different priorities, different visions for their futures. And, of course, there were other issues—trust, jealousy, the usual complications when you’re working and living together.”

Kate nodded thoughtfully. “So, they broke up, and now she’s with Storm Par. That must have been a tough transition for Tyler.”

“Yeah, it was rough,” Boone agreed. “They broke up about two years ago. It wasn’t pretty—lots of arguments, a lot of hurt feelings. Tyler took it pretty hard. And then, she just... moved on. Got involved with Storm Par, who are our rivals in a sense. It’s like a double whammy for him.”

Javi frowned, trying to piece everything together. “So, Tyler seeing her with Storm Par... that must have hit him pretty hard. It’s like a reminder of everything he lost and the fact that she’s now on the other side.”

Boone nodded, his expression softening. “Exactly. It’s not just seeing her again after all this time—it’s seeing her in a place where she’s almost a symbol of everything he’s been struggling to move past. It’s a blow to his pride and his heart.”

Kate sighed, her gaze shifting towards where Tyler had retreated earlier. “I feel for him. That kind of history, it doesn’t just disappear. It lingers.”

Boone’s eyes softened with understanding. “Yeah, it does. And Tyler’s a tough guy, but he’s still human. This is something he’s going to have to work through. It’s not just about dealing with Y/N being with a rival team; it’s about confronting a lot of unresolved feelings and past regrets.”

Javi nodded, the seriousness of the situation sinking in. “I guess we’ll just have to give him space and be there if he needs us.”

Boone’s gaze flicked back to the truck, where Tyler had reappeared, his demeanour more composed but still carrying an air of subdued tension. “That’s the best we can do. Just be supportive and give him time. He’s a strong guy, but even the strongest need a hand sometimes.”

---

The temperature had begun to climb as the afternoon wore on, and Tyler knew they’d need more ice to keep their supplies cold. After taking a moment to gather himself, he walked towards the cooler beside the truck. The familiar crunch of gravel under his boots brought him some solace, but his mind was still reeling from seeing Y/N after all this time.

As he approached the cooler, Tyler spotted someone already there, bent over and digging through the ice with a small scoop. The sight of her familiar figure, the way she held herself—confident, yet focused—sent a jolt through him. For a moment, he considered turning around and leaving, but it was too late. Y/N had already sensed his presence.

She straightened up, holding a bag of ice in one hand, and turned to face him. The air between them seemed to thicken as their eyes met. Tyler froze, the usual easy confidence he carried evaporating in an instant.

“Tyler,” Y/N acknowledged him, her voice neutral, but there was an undercurrent of tension that he didn’t miss.

He swallowed hard, searching for words that wouldn’t come. This close, he could see the subtle changes in her—new lines of stress that hadn’t been there before, a more guarded expression in her eyes. But she was still Y/N, the woman who had once known him better than anyone.

“Y/N,” Tyler finally managed, his voice tight. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Especially... with them.” His eyes flicked to the Storm Par logo on her jacket.

Y/N arched an eyebrow, a hint of a smirk playing on her lips. “Yeah, well, life’s full of surprises, isn’t it?”

Tyler clenched his jaw, the words “full of surprises” echoing in his mind. He wasn’t sure which stung more—the fact that she was here, or that she was working with Storm Par, the competition, the so-called enemy. He could still remember their arguments about rival teams, the fiery debates they’d had about who was in it for the science and who was in it for the glory.

“Storm Par, though?” he asked, his tone carrying a mix of disbelief and disappointment. “You always said they were in it for the wrong reasons. What happened to that?”

Y/N’s expression hardened, the brief moment of softness in her eyes vanishing. “People change, Tyler. Circumstances change. Sometimes you have to take what you can get.”

He didn’t miss the bitterness in her voice, nor the hint of something deeper—resentment, maybe? Regret? It was hard to tell. But it cut him nonetheless.

“Is that what this is? Just... taking what you can get?” Tyler asked, unable to keep the edge out of his voice.

Y/N sighed, shifting the bag of ice in her hand. She glanced away for a moment, as if searching for the right words. When she looked back at him, her gaze was steady, though the fire that had once been there was now a cold, smoldering ember.

“It’s a job, Tyler. It’s what I’m good at,” she said flatly. “Just like you. I’m doing what I have to do. If that means working with Storm Par, then so be it.”

Tyler felt a pang of something deep in his chest—anger, sadness, maybe even guilt. They had been a team once, a damn good one. But those days were gone, and it was clear she had moved on in ways he hadn’t expected. Or maybe in ways he hadn’t allowed himself to think about.

He took a slow breath, trying to steady himself. “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised,” he said quietly. “After everything that happened...”

Y/N flinched, just slightly, but she quickly masked it. She tilted her head slightly, studying him with an expression that was hard to read. “You’re right, Tyler. You shouldn’t be surprised. We both made choices. We’re living with them now.”

The weight of her words hung between them, and for a moment, the only sound was the crunching of ice as she tightened her grip on the bag.

Tyler opened his mouth to say something—an apology, maybe, or a plea to just talk things out—but the words caught in his throat. The history between them was too complicated, too painful to unpack in a casual conversation by a cooler.

Instead, he nodded stiffly, his expression guarded. “Yeah. I guess we are.”

Y/N held his gaze for a moment longer, then broke it, turning back to the cooler to grab another bag of ice. She handed it to him without a word, her touch brief, almost impersonal. Tyler took the bag, the cold seeping through his gloves, grounding him in the present.

“Take care, Tyler,” Y/N said quietly, her voice carrying a finality that made his heart sink.

He nodded, unable to find the right response. “You too, Y/N.”

---

The storm had finally passed, leaving behind a sky streaked with the deep purples and pinks of twilight. The day had been intense, with the team pushing their limits to capture every bit of data they could. As the adrenaline began to fade, exhaustion crept in, the weight of the day settling heavily on Tyler's shoulders.

The team was packing up, their voices quieter now, the earlier excitement replaced by a tired, satisfied calm. Tyler finished securing the last piece of equipment to the truck, his mind replaying the events of the day—especially his brief, tense encounters with Y/N. He could still feel the sting of their words, the unresolved tension gnawing at him like a dull ache.

He needed to clear his head, and a hot shower sounded like the perfect remedy.

Tyler grabbed a fresh change of clothes from his bag and made his way to the small, makeshift shower area they had set up nearby. The water pressure was weak, but it didn’t matter. As soon as the lukewarm water hit his skin, he felt the tension begin to melt away, the dirt and grime of the day washing down the drain along with some of the stress.

He stood under the stream, letting the water run over his face, his mind drifting. The cold splash of reality was as sharp as the water was warm—he was going to have to face Y/N again, probably sooner rather than later. The thought of her working with Storm Par still gnawed at him, a bitter reminder of how much things had changed between them.

Tyler leaned forward, bracing his hands against the wall of the shower stall, and closed his eyes. The heat of the water pounded against his back, loosening the knots in his muscles. He needed to let it go, at least for tonight. The last thing he wanted was to drag the team down with his personal issues, especially after they had all worked so hard today.

Taking a deep breath, he forced himself to focus on the present—on the here and now. There was nothing he could do about the past, but he could control how he handled the future, even if that meant swallowing his pride and finding a way to coexist with Y/N. For the sake of the job, and for his own sanity.

After what felt like an eternity, Tyler finally turned off the water and stepped out of the shower. The cool evening air hit his damp skin, a refreshing contrast to the warmth he had just felt. He quickly towelled off and dressed in a clean pair of jeans and a fresh t-shirt, the familiar scent of his soap helping to ground him.

As he finished getting ready, Tyler caught a glimpse of himself in the cracked mirror. His hair was still slightly damp, and his eyes held a weariness that went beyond physical exhaustion. But there was also determination there, a resolve to push forward despite the lingering shadows of his past.

He grabbed his jacket and headed out, the sounds of laughter and conversation guiding him toward the rest of the team. They had set up a small gathering spot near the truck, a cooler filled with drinks and a few fold-out chairs arranged in a loose circle. The mood was relaxed, a stark contrast to the tension of the day, and Tyler could hear Boone’s deep, rumbling laugh as he told a story to Javi and Kate.

“Hey, you finally made it,” Dani called out as she spotted Tyler approaching. She raised her drink in a mock salute, a grin spreading across her face. “We were starting to think you’d fallen asleep in there.”

Tyler chuckled, shaking his head as he took a seat in one of the chairs. “Nah, just needed to cool off for a bit.”

Lilly tossed him a cold beer from the cooler, which he caught with ease. He cracked it open, the first sip a welcome relief after the long day. The cold liquid slid down his throat, soothing and refreshing.

“Hell of a chase today,” Boone said, raising his own drink in agreement. “We got some damn good footage.”

“Damn right we did,” Tyler replied, a hint of pride creeping into his voice. The thrill of the chase had always been a constant in his life, something that never failed to ignite his passion, no matter what else was going on.

Javi leaned forward, his eyes wide with excitement. “I still can’t believe we were that close. The footage is going to be amazing.”

“It will be,” Tyler agreed, his tone more relaxed now. He took another sip of his beer, letting himself enjoy the camaraderie. “It was a good day, all things considered.”

Kate, who had been quietly listening, glanced at Tyler with a small, thoughtful smile. “Glad to have you with us, Tyler. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tyler nodded, appreciating the sentiment. The team had his back, and he had theirs—that was something he could always count on. “Same goes for all of you. We make a damn good team.”

The night had grown quiet as the teams gradually retreated to their tents and vehicles, exhausted from the day’s intense storm chase. The hum of conversation and the clinking of bottles had faded, leaving behind only the occasional rustle of the wind and the distant rumble of thunder on the horizon. The stars were beginning to peek through the clouds, casting a dim, silvery light over the makeshift camp.

Tyler sat alone by the dying embers of the fire, nursing the last of his beer. The warmth of the earlier camaraderie lingered, but now it was just him and the night, the solitude giving him time to reflect. His thoughts, however, were far from peaceful—still tangled up in the events of the day, and more specifically, the reappearance of Y/N.

He stared into the darkness, his mind replaying their earlier encounters. Despite his best efforts to shake it off, the memories of their past and the unresolved tension between them gnawed at him. The sound of footsteps crunching on gravel broke his reverie. He looked up, his body tensing instinctively as he recognized the familiar figure approaching from the direction of the Storm Par camp.

Y/N was stumbling slightly, a half-empty bottle of beer dangling from her hand. Her usual composed demeanour was gone, replaced by the loose, carefree gait of someone who had had a few too many drinks. Her hair was slightly tousled, and there was a flush to her cheeks that could have been from the alcohol or the lingering effects of the day’s adrenaline.

“Tyler,” she called out, her voice carrying a slurred edge as she made her way toward him. There was a smile on her lips, but it didn’t reach her eyes, which were glassy and unfocused.

Tyler felt a mix of emotions—concern, annoyance, and a pang of something deeper, more painful. He stood up as she neared, his brow furrowing as he took in her unsteady state. “Y/N,” he said, keeping his voice low and calm. “What are you doing out here?”

She waved the beer bottle in the air, nearly losing her balance in the process. “Celebrating,” she replied with a laugh that didn’t quite sound genuine. “Big day, right? We caught a hell of a storm.”

Tyler couldn’t help but notice the bitterness in her tone, the way she was trying to mask whatever was really going on behind a façade of drunken cheerfulness. He took a step closer, ready to catch her if she stumbled again. “Yeah, it was a big day,” he agreed, his voice cautious. “But it’s late. You should head back.”

Y/N ignored his suggestion, instead taking a long swig from the bottle before looking up at him, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Why’re you always so serious, Tyler? You were always like that... Always the responsible one.” She punctuated the last words with a playful poke to his chest, but there was a sadness in her eyes that belied her actions.

Tyler’s jaw tightened as he looked down at her, his concern deepening. “Someone had to be,” he said softly, his voice tinged with both frustration and care. “And right now, you need to get some rest.”

Y/N took a step back, swaying slightly as she studied him, her expression shifting to something more sombre. “You’re always trying to fix things, Tyler. But not everything can be fixed, you know?” She let out a sigh, her shoulders slumping as the bravado started to fade. “Not everything’s your responsibility.”

Tyler felt a pang of guilt at her words. There was truth in what she said—he had always tried to shoulder the burden, to keep everything in order, even when things were falling apart between them. “I know,” he replied quietly, his gaze softening as he looked at her. “But I can’t just stand by when I see someone I care about struggling.”

Y/N’s expression softened, her eyes searching his face as if trying to find something in his words. The tension between them shifted, becoming something more electric, more charged. She took a step closer, her breath brushing against his neck as she looked up at him, her gaze lingering on his lips.

Without thinking, Tyler reached out, his hand cupping her cheek. The moment felt suspended in time, the air around them thick with unspoken words and unresolved emotions. Then, as if pulled by a force neither of them could resist, their lips crashed together in a heated, desperate kiss.

Y/N responded immediately, her arms wrapping around his neck as she pressed herself against him. Tyler’s hands roamed down her back, pulling her closer, feeling the familiar heat between them reignite. It was like no time had passed at all—their bodies remembering the connection they once had, the intensity that had always simmered just beneath the surface.

He broke the kiss just long enough to catch his breath, his voice husky as he whispered against her lips, “Wrap your legs around my waist.”

Without hesitation, Y/N did as he asked, her legs encircling his waist as he lifted her effortlessly. Tyler's hands gripped her thighs, his lips finding hers again as he carried her toward his truck. They moved together in perfect sync, not breaking the kiss as he maneuverer through the darkness, the urgency of their need driving them forward.

When they reached the truck, Tyler pressed her back against the cool metal, the contrast of the cold against the heat of their bodies sending a shiver down Y/N’s spine. He deepened the kiss, his hands gripping her hips tightly, as if afraid to let her go again. She responded with equal fervour, her fingers tangling in his hair, holding him as close as possible.

The world around them faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in the moment, in the passion that had been buried for so long. The unresolved tension, the pain, the love—they all collided in that kiss, in the way their bodies moved together, as if trying to reclaim something they had lost.

Finally, Tyler pulled back, his forehead resting against hers, both of them breathing heavily. His eyes were dark with desire, but there was also a flicker of something deeper—an emotion that went beyond the physical, something that had been lying dormant for years.

“Y/N,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion.

She looked up at him, her expression mirroring his own, a mix of longing, regret, and something more profound. “Tyler,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

The night air felt cooler against their heated skin as they stood there, wrapped up in each other’s arms beside Tyler's truck. The world outside the small bubble they’d created was forgotten, leaving only the two of them, bound together by years of unresolved passion and lingering tension.

Tyler's hands slid from Y/N's waist to the hem of her shirt, his fingers brushing against her skin as he began to lift it. His eyes never left hers, watching the way her breath hitched in anticipation. He pulled the fabric over her head and tossed it aside, his gaze roaming over her exposed skin with a mixture of desire and affection.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” he murmured, his voice low and teasing. His hands traced the curves of her body, fingers grazing over the sensitive spots he knew so well.

Y/N shivered under his touch, her breath quickening as she felt the familiar heat spreading through her. But before she could respond, Tyler leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Still so vocal, aren’t you?”

The words sent a thrill through her, and she couldn’t stop the soft moan that escaped her lips. Tyler chuckled, the sound deep and resonant, vibrating through her as he continued his slow, deliberate exploration. His hands slipped to the clasp of her bra, fingers working with practiced ease as he unhooked it and let it fall away.

He leaned back slightly, just enough to take her in, his eyes dark with desire as he took in the sight of her bare chest. “You always did like to make noise,” he teased, his tone playful but laced with a deeper intensity. His hands moved up to cup her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, drawing another gasp from her.

Y/N bit her lip, trying to hold back the sounds of pleasure that threatened to escape, but Tyler wasn’t having any of it. He lowered his head, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her neck, trailing down to her collarbone, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her whimper.

“Don’t hold back on me now,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and tantalizing. “I want to hear you.”

His words broke through her resolve, and she let out a breathy moan, her hands gripping his shoulders as she arched into him. Tyler grinned against her skin, his lips trailing down to her breast, where he took one of her nipples into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it before giving a gentle tug with his teeth.

Y/N cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tugged him closer, the sensation overwhelming. “Tyler,” she gasped, her voice thick with need.

He pulled back, just enough to look up at her, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction at how easily he could unravel her. “That’s more like it,” he said, his tone full of teasing triumph. “You always did love it when I made you scream.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed with both embarrassment and arousal, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. There was something about the way Tyler touched her, the way he knew exactly what buttons to push, that always left her breathless and wanting more.

Tyler’s hands moved to the waistband of her jeans, fingers slipping beneath the fabric as he began to work them down her hips. He took his time, enjoying the way her breath hitched with every inch of skin he exposed. When he finally got them off, he stepped back just a bit, his gaze raking over her with unabashed desire.

“You’re even more beautiful than I remembered,” he said softly, his voice tinged with a mix of awe and longing.

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat at the sincerity in his words, but before she could respond, Tyler was on her again, his mouth claiming hers in a searing kiss. His hands roamed over her now nearly naked body, his touch both possessive and tender.

As the kiss deepened, Tyler's fingers found the edge of her panties, teasingly sliding them down her legs as his lips trailed back to her ear. “I’ve missed hearing those little noises you make,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire. “And I’m going to make sure I hear a lot more of them tonight.”

Y/N could only moan in response, her mind clouded with need as Tyler’s hands explored every inch of her, his touch leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He was relentless in his teasing, drawing out every gasp, every moan, until she was trembling with anticipation.

Finally, when she was completely undressed and laid bare before him, Tyler stepped back just enough to admire his work, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. “You’re perfect,” he murmured, his voice full of genuine admiration.

Y/N’s heart raced, her body aching for him to close the distance between them again. “Tyler, please,” she whispered, the need in her voice unmistakable.

Tyler grinned, loving the way she was already begging for him. He leaned in, his lips brushing against hers as he whispered, “Oh, I’m not done with you yet. I want to hear you lose control.”

And with that, he claimed her mouth again, his hands roaming over her body with renewed fervor, each touch designed to drive her wild, to push her closer to the edge. Y/N responded with equal intensity, her own hands moving to undress him, desperate to feel his skin against hers.

Tyler’s breath was heavy as he felt Y/N’s hands on him, their fingers fumbling with the buttons of his shirt. She was desperate to feel his skin against hers, to close the distance that had been too wide for too long. As she finally pushed his shirt off his shoulders, revealing the toned muscles beneath, she ran her hands over his chest, savouring the warmth and solidity of him.

Tyler groaned at her touch, his own hands sliding down her back to pull her closer. Their mouths met again, a clash of hunger and need as they devoured each other. Every kiss, every touch, was laced with the urgency of all the time they’d lost, the years of separation making this reunion even more intense.

As her hands moved down to unbuckle his belt, Tyler couldn’t help the low growl that escaped him. He pulled back slightly, his lips hovering over hers as he whispered, “You’re so eager, aren’t you?”

Y/N’s response was a breathless moan as she finally managed to undo his belt, her hands working quickly to free him from his jeans. “I can’t wait any longer,” she murmured, her voice trembling with anticipation.

Tyler chuckled softly, a deep, rumbling sound that sent shivers down her spine. “Good,” he said, his voice thick with desire. “Because neither can I.”

With a quick, deft motion, Tyler helped her push his jeans and boxers down, kicking them off to the side. The cool night air hit his skin, but it was nothing compared to the heat radiating from the woman in his arms. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her flush against him, and they both gasped at the sensation of their bare skin touching, the connection between them electric and undeniable.

Y/N’s breath hitched as she felt him, hard and ready against her. The anticipation was almost too much to bear, but Tyler seemed to delight in drawing it out, taking his time as he ran his hands over her body, memorizing every curve, every shiver.

“Tyler,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she clung to him, her need for him overwhelming.

He smiled against her lips, his hands sliding down to cup her ass, lifting her slightly. “Wrap your legs around me,” he instructed, his tone low and commanding.

Without hesitation, Y/N obeyed, wrapping her legs around his waist and feeling his strong arms supporting her. The feeling of being held by him, of being completely at his mercy, sent a thrill through her, and she couldn’t suppress the moan that escaped her lips.

Tyler grinned, loving the sound of her surrender. “There’s that voice I love,” he teased, his tone playful even as his desire for her surged. He shifted her slightly in his arms, positioning her perfectly against him as he pressed her back against the side of the truck. The cold metal was a stark contrast to the heat between them, and Y/N gasped at the sensation.

“Tyler,” she breathed, her hands gripping his shoulders as she looked into his eyes, her own dark with need.

He held her gaze, his expression intense as he slowly, deliberately, pressed his hips forward, teasing her with just the tip. The sensation was almost too much, and Y/N let out a cry, her nails digging into his skin as she tried to pull him closer, but he held back, his control infuriatingly steady.

“Patience, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice rough with the effort of holding himself back. “I want to hear you beg for it.”

Y/N’s breath came in ragged gasps, her body trembling with the need to feel him completely. “Please,” she whimpered, her voice breaking as she looked up at him, her eyes pleading. “Please, Tyler, I need you.”

Tyler’s control wavered at the sound of her begging, and with a low growl, he gave her what she wanted, thrusting into her in one smooth motion. The sensation of him filling her completely tore a loud, wanton moan from her lips, and she clung to him as waves of pleasure crashed over her.

“That’s it,” Tyler groaned, his voice strained as he began to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, driving her wild with the intensity. “I knew you’d sound just like this.”

Y/N was lost in the sensation, her head thrown back as he set a rhythm that had her gasping for breath, each thrust pushing her closer to the edge. The combination of his teasing words and the way he moved inside her was driving her mad, and she could do nothing but hold on to him, her legs tightening around his waist as he drove her higher and higher.

“Tyler,” she cried out, her voice filled with desperation and desire. “I can’t... I can’t...”

He pressed his forehead against hers, his breath hot and ragged as he increased the pace, pushing them both closer to the brink. “Yes, you can,” he whispered, his voice a mix of command and encouragement. “I want to hear you come for me.”

His words sent a jolt of pleasure straight through her, and Y/N could feel the tension inside her coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. She was so close, her body trembling with the effort to hold on, but Tyler wasn’t done with her yet.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured, his voice dark and velvety as he pressed deep inside her, his thumb finding the sensitive bundle of nerves between them. The combination of his relentless thrusts and the pressure on her clit was too much, and with a strangled cry, Y/N’s body exploded in pleasure, her orgasm ripping through her with a force that left her breathless.

Tyler watched her come apart in his arms, the sight of her in ecstasy driving him to the edge. With a few more powerful thrusts, he followed her over the brink, his release crashing over him with a raw intensity that left him trembling.

For a moment, they stayed like that, clinging to each other as they rode out the aftershocks of their shared pleasure. The night was silent around them, the only sound the heavy, ragged breathing as they slowly came back to themselves.

Finally, Tyler gently lowered her legs, letting her feet touch the ground as he held her close, their foreheads still pressed together. His hands ran soothingly up and down her back, grounding them both in the aftermath of their passion.

“Damn,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I’ve missed you.”

Y/N’s heart ached at his words, the sincerity in his voice cutting through the haze of pleasure. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of longing and uncertainty. “Tyler...”

But before she could say anything more, Tyler kissed her again, this time with a tenderness that hadn’t been there before. It was a kiss filled with all the unspoken feelings between them, the things they hadn’t been able to say.

When they finally pulled back, Tyler rested his forehead against hers, his hands still holding her close. “We need to talk,” he said softly, his voice full of the weight of everything that had just happened.

Y/N nodded, her heart pounding as she looked into his eyes, knowing that this was just the beginning of a much-needed conversation. “Yeah,” she agreed, her voice just as soft. “We do.”

Requests for Tyler are open be free to send in as much as you wish!

tagging some:

@senawashere

@saviorcomplexrry

@cevansbaby-dove

@saynotononsense

@missdottie

@willowisp7

@taorislover94

@eloquenceinpurple

@86laura11

@rosiahills22

@jessicab1991

@kmc1989

@shanimallina87

@eternalsams

@teen-antisocial

#tyler owens x reader #tyler owens x you #tyler owens fanfic #tyler owens #twisters fanfiction #tyler owens imagine #tyler owens x y/n #tyler owens smut #dad!tyler owens

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luvendiary · 1 year

Text

3 times hiccup asked you to marry him + the time you realized he meant it

hello! this was an early draft for this request: Hello!!! Imagine hiccup telling reader "I'm in love with you" / "Marry me" out of blue after a stare down (can be established relationship or not muahahaha) I like how this turned out, except for the ending. it's sort of shitty in my opinion. also, this isn't proofread. and sorry for any mistakes, english is not my first language. feel free to point them out. also, there’s a slight corpse bride reference with the vows!! as always, thank you for reading. let me know what you think and if you'd like more of this. requests are always open!

Snoggletog was one of your favorite festivities. The beautiful coat of snow that hugged the soil, and the way the sunlight softly reflected on it was perfect to you. You loved to see how vikings busied themselves by hanging up ornaments and mistletoe on the doors. You loved hearing the out-of-tune carols that echoed across Berk. And you loved the late cold nights as you and the dragon riders sat around a warm fire and talked about the day’s happenings.

One thing you did not love though, was the Snoggletog play, specially because it had been assigned to you all this year. It was the dragon riders’ responsibility to plan, organize and act it out the day of Snoggletog.

“What about the start of dragon races?” Snoutlout suggested.

“They did that two years ago,” Astrid replied as she sharpened her axe.

“We could do Loki-”

“We’re not doing Loki day Tuffnut,” Hiccup interrupted him.

A moment of silence passed amongst all of you.

“What if, we make a reenactment of Odin and Freya’s marriage? How they stopped the Aesir and Vanir war,” you said while nibbling on your thumb.

“That could work,” Fishlegs said.

“I like it, we could even get the dragons in on this,” Astrid suggested.

“Of course, brilliant idea (Y/N),” Snotlout said as he stood up with a cocky attitude. “Specially because I would make the perfect Odin.” He flexed his muscles and stroke a victorious pose.

You chuckled and pushed him away, “Sit down Snotlout. I was actually thinking that Astrid and Fishlegs could be Freya and Odin.”

“Oh no,” Astrid said immediately. “I’m not good at performing. Plus, you gave the idea, you should be Freya.”

“Alright,” you said. “If no one else is up for it, I’ll be Freya. Fishlegs, are you ok with being Odin?”

“Ye-” his reply was interrupted by Astrid elbowing him. “I mean, I wish I could but…I-I don’t like performing.”

“What but you love perfor-?”

“Hiccup! Why aren’t you Odin?!” Astrid chimed in as she placed her arm around your shoulder while the other went around the brunette-boy’s shoulders.

“Uh…I-I guess,” Hiccup said.

Astrid grinned while looking at you, “Great! It’s settled then!”

“Why would you do that?!” you shrieked as you pressed the palm of your hands to your eyes.

Astrid, who sat next to you overlooking Berk from a nearby cliff, shrugged, “Oh I don’t know. Maybe because I’m tired of you two beating around the bush. Why don’t you kiss already? It’s obvious you want to.”

“Shut up Astrid,” you said while sitting up. You rubbed your hands together to provide some heat to your body. “I’m not even sure if he likes me.”

“You’re as blind as Gothi is mute,” she replied.

“How can you be so sure? Has he said anything about me?”

“You’re hopeless Y/N.”

The days went by, and Snoggletog drew closer and closer. Right after training, you went to rehearsals, and while most of it went by in fits of laughter and jokes, you all managed to build a production. You often tended to practice with Hiccup, since you had the most line together, and it gave you an excuse to spend more time with him. During this period, you had managed to gain some small victories in the love department, holding his hand, dancing with him, and hearing him laugh while you acted out some of your scenes being some. However, there was something you both had been avoiding: the marriage kiss. It made your heart flutter and your stomach swarm with butterflies every time you though about the possibility of kissing him; on the other hand, it also felt like Gronkle iron swishing around your intestines. What if he didn’t want to kiss you? What if he just did it out of pity?

Your mind was plagued with questions up until the big day.

“Good luck,” Astrid said while she gave you a knowing look. She was looking forward to the kiss, and if what she had told you was true, all of the dragon riders were too.

The play started out good, Snotlout and Tuffnut played the Aesir family, while Ruffnut and Fishlegs played the Vanir.

The scene changed and the Aesir were complaining with Hiccup about how Freya’s magic and her help towards the Vanir was the reason for their shortcomings.

I was then your time to appear. After several attempts from the Aesir to try to kill Freya, you and Odin came to an agreement: you were to marry each other.

“Marry me,” said Hiccup. And as you looked into his eyes your breath hitched. He had a smile plastered on his face, and his eyes gleamed.

“I will marry you,” you replied as you offered him your hand and he put the ring on your nuptial finger.

The scene was supposed to end there, you were about to take a step backwards so that the actual marriage scene could take place, however you felt a hand wrap around your wrist, and before you knew it you were being kissed. You were being kissed by Hiccup Haddock.

Your shock was palpable, however you dissolved into the kiss once the initial incredulity had passed. Once Hiccup felt the kiss was reciprocal, he wrapped his arms around your waist and drew you closer.

2 .

Dragon racing was a hefty sport. Ever since it was created, it became a fan favorite amongst Berkians. Once every full moon, a match was held that was sure to be the talk of the town for at least a week. On summer and winter solstice, you held the dragon riding tournament, that usually lasted for about a week; except for that one time when the black sheep had wondered deep into the woods, and you weren’t able to find it for two days.

Point of the matter is, dragon racing was a serious issue for vikings. And that’s why victories where celebrated so grandly. You never particularly cared for the celebrations, however wining was important to you; your usually carefree nature was irrecognizable when it came to the sport as you became a furiously competitive rider. This change, spared no one. Not even your boyfriend.

“Incoming!” you called out before snatching the black sheep from Hiccup’s arms, as you held on with your legs to (Y/D)’s saddle while she flew in an upside down position.

“Hey!” he shouted in response with a light chuckle.

“I wish I could say I’m sorry, but I’m not!” you replied with a shit-eating grin directed his way. With the black sheep secure in your arms, you flew away, not a hint of remorse visible on your face.

You returned to your upright position and quickly flew up to your basket and threw in the black sheep. As soon as you do so, you hear the crowds cheers and applause mixed with the blow of the horn, signaling that the match has ended.

Astrid joined you on the platform, followed by Ruff, as they cheered you on and celebrated your team victory.

Hiccup watched you, still mounted on Toothless with a lovesick smile present in his features, “I’m going to marry her,” he said as he took in your beautiful smile.

“I don’t think you’re her type,” said a voice next to him. Tuffnutt flew next to him with a pissed expression -probably because of their defeat- “but go for it. I’m sure my sister would be flattered.”

3 .

“Do you think there are other people out there?” you asked as you stared blankly at the stars. “I mean, besides us dragon riders and dragon hunters. Do you think that maybe there’s another civilization that has been familiar with dragons long before us?”

You heard Hiccup chuckle, “Possibly, maybe they even know of species we have yet to discover.”

“I wonder if they maybe think the same of us. Maybe we’re some strange advanced civilization to them”, you said with a light giggle as your thoughts went wild with the idea of the unknown. “Or maybe, we’re cavemen in comparison to their civilization. Maybe…they know about our existence, and they have just decided to leave us alone because we’re not worth their time.”

“That’s a bit depressing isn’t it?” Hiccup asked, humored by your rambling.

“I don’t think so. I think it’s exciting…” you said slightly breathless as you stared at the vast abyss of twinkling lights that spread above you and beyond. “Just imagine everything we’ve yet to discover.”

You faintly heard the huffs and growls of your dragons, who were entertained by Hiccup’s prosthetic leg as they fought each other for it.

Hiccup allowed himself to steal a glance at you for a fraction of a second. He thought that the view in front of you was beautiful, but to him, the real wonder was sitting right next to him. You looked breathtaking with the starry abyss reflected in your eyes. Yet, you were so unaware of it.

“Marry me.”

He didn’t mean to actually say it. But he just couldn’t control himself when he was with you.

Your trance was broken and you stared at him wide eyed, in disbelief at what he had just said. However as soon as you saw his expression mirroring yours, you burst out laughing. You couldn’t say truthfully that you had never though about marriage, especially with Hiccup.

Hiccup’s startled expression morphed into confusion.”W-What? Why are you laughing?”

“Are you sure you want to marry me?” you asked in between giggles. “You don’t seem very sure.”

“What? Y-Yes! Of course I’m sure! Why wouldn’t I want to marry you?” his eyebrows furrowed in the way you loved. The way that told you you had successfully managed to get in his head. He had turned his body so that it was now mirroring yours, and his shoulders were raising up and down as they usually did when he was trying to explain something or defend a point.

“Fine then. I’ll marry you.”

His rambling stopped immediately. “What? Y-You will?”

You shrugged your shoulders nonchalantly. “Sure. Why not?”

You stood up then as you walked around the small island you had stumbled upon earlier that day. Leaving a very flustered and confused Hiccup behind.

“Wait! Where are you going?” he called after you as he struggled to get up. He rambled on as he chased you, asking about arrangements and other things.

“Aha!” you said victoriously as you crouched down over a patch of grass with some wildflowers sprouting out.

Hiccup peered over your shoulder, trying to see what you were doing.

Eventually you stood up and extended your hand towards him. He stared at you blankly for a moment, and muttered to himself, tryin to understand your actions. Still, an amused smile was present on his face.

“Well?” you said after a bit. “Give me your hand.”

He did as you instructed, and then you took out your other hand from behind, which gently held a blade of grass along with some small wildflowers intertwined with each other, forming a ring.

“I know it’s not the best craftsmanship, but I figured we couldn’t get married without rings,” you explained with a soft giggle.

Hiccup grinned down at you, and laughed incredulously. He wondered how he ever got you to agree to be his. “I’m afraid to tell you dearest, but I don’t have a ring for you.”

You sighed mockingly and rolled your eyes. “I know that. I assumed you would be too in your head about your future duty as chief and the dragons to think about me.”

“Hey!” he protested immediately. “I’m always thinking about you-”

“But worry not!” you said as you giggled playfully. “Since I know you well enough to be married, I know you well enough to be prepared for our wedding.” You reached into one of your pockets and puled out and identical ring, which he gently grabbed.

He stared down at you, with a skeptical expression.

“Well, go on with it. Do you want to marry me or not?” you asked as you tilted your head slightly to the side.

Hiccup sighed and then locked his eyes with yours. “I, Hiccup Horrendous Haddock, the Third, make this oath. With this hand I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine. With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring, I ask you to be mine."

Once the traditional vows were finished he gently took your hand and slid the delicate ring onto your nuptial finger.

You watched with a smile as he carefully placed it, and once he was done, you repeated the vows and slid his ring onto his own finger.

With your ceremony done, your lips met in a gentle and warm dance. You felt as his hands slid down your back and rested on your hips, holding your body closer to his.

“This is the second time we’ve been married now,” he whispered as he broke apart form the kiss,

“How scandalous,” you whispered back with a soft laugh, as you remembered the Snoggletog performance and how it ended up with your first kiss.

“Maybe the next time we get to do it, you’ll actually be wearing white.”

You stared up at him with a raised eyebrow. “Is that so? Does that mean you’d like to bed me next time?” you teased.

“I’d love to bed you now,” he said with a slight chuckle. “But I’m aware you’d rather follow the traditional path.”

You laughed and patted his chest. “Well, you’ll better get me that white dress quickly then.”

Hiccup had been acting weird all day. Evading you and whenever you managed to track him down he responded any question you had in a dismissive manner. You had figured you should let him alone for a while, at least until he was ready to talk about whatever was bothering him.

He did tend to get too into his own head whenever he was worried, and it took you telling him about it for him to realize he could share his burden with you. But this time it was different.

When you had asked what was bothering him he dismissed you as soon as he could and continued what he was doing.

It had hurt you. It made you think if you had done anything wrong, but you couldn’t think of anything. It was scary thinking about what this could mean for the both of you.

“And you’re sure he hasn’t ever acted like this before?” Astrid asked as she tried to make sense of the situation with you.

You where both sat in the Great Hall, as the rest of the vikings ate their dinner. You however, couldn’t seem to make anything go down past your throat, as worry consumed you.

“Yes Astrid, I am sure,” you replied rather harshly. “I don’t even know where the hell he is right now. For all I know he’s probably off in another girl’s house. Maybe he got tired of waiting for me. Maybe he realized he doesn’t want this sort of commitment…”

You knew that this was irrational thinking. Hiccup had never given you signs that he didn’t want to be with you anymore, on the contrary, he was always very reassuring on how much he liked being with you. Up until now you had never had any reason to doubt your relationship; but up until now, Hiccup had never behaved like this either.

“Don’t say that! That boy is crazy for you. He has been since we where thirteen.”

You sighed and buried your hands in your hair. “Then why is he acting like this?!”

“I think you should ask him yourself,” Astrid said as she placed a comforting hand on her friend’s back.

“I’ve already tried that…” you groaned out. Your voice muffled by your arms, on which you were resting your head.

“Give it one more try. Maybe he’ll snap out of it.”

Reluctantly, you agreed and made your way up to the watch tower. It was Hiccup’s turn to keep watch tonight, so you knew he wouldn’t be able to escape this time.

You felt the heat of the fire before you saw it, and you knew he was there.

“You need to cut the crap Haddock,” you started as you saw the faint outline of his shadow as you were nearing the end of the stairs. “If I did something wrong, just tell me right now because I can’t keep doing this. We’re not teenagers anymo-”

Your throat closed up as soon as you saw him. A gasp escaped your mouth and your hands flew to your face.

In front of you, Hiccup was down on one knee and a small wooden box sat comfortably on the palm of his hand.

“You bastard,” you whispered just to yourself.

He chuckled at that and smiled as he saw your reaction. He then opened the box to reveal a small silver ring in the shape of some intricate patterns.

“My dearest Y/N…” he started, but the lump in his throat wouldn’t let him go any further.

“Oh Hiccup…” you breathed out as you approached him slowly.

“Please marry me,” he said finally.

You crouched in front of him with tears in your eyes and held his face in your hands.

“Of course I will marry you,” you replied as a teary laugh escaped your throat.

To him, it was the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

He laughed then, as he slid the ring in, and looked up at you. He cupped your cheeks with the palm of his hand and pulled you closer until your lips met. He tasted tears and relief in that kiss.

You eventually separated and you hit his chest lightly.

“Don’t ever do that to me again you bastard!” you said as the tears flowed, and you whipped them off as nervous laughter escaped your lips.

“I swear this is the last time love,” he chuckled as he crouched his head slightly to help you whipe your tears.

“Not that! Don’t ever avoid me like that again Hiccup! I was starting to think that maybe you didn’t want me anymore…”

Hiccup grabbed your chin gently and made you look up at him. “Theres no one else I’d rather want.”

You laughed nervously once again and offered him a teary smile.

“I’m sorry I scarred you love. I just…I was so nervous.”

“It’s ok…” you reassured him. “I understand.”

He smiled down at you and whipped another tear. You didn’t mean to keep doing it, but you had been so worried all day long that it was finally coming out. You didn’t want to ruin your moment like this. It was supposed to be a moment for celebration and happiness. You tried to make it stop.

“You can cry. I will lift your sorrows,” Hiccup said with a soft laugh as he whipped another tear.

You smiled then, tears still flowing out. But you knew it would be alright. He would make you feel alright. He always did.

#how to train your dragon 3 #httyd #httyd2 #httyd3 #hiccup x reder #hiccup x y/n #hiccup haddock x reader #hiccup horrendous haddock the 3rd #hiccup httyd #toothless #how to train a dragon 2 #how to train your dragon

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starminzoo · 22 days

Text

╭──────────────────✎

╰─▗ ▘➤𖥸 dirty my ride

꒰ risa's note ꒱ y'all requested this to be a long fic after this so here it is ;) hope you guys like it 💕

PAIRING: rider! park seonghwa x f! reader (est relation)

SUMMARY: you are so horny and your boyfriend isn't here to tend to you so what do you do?

WARNING: bike humping, slut calling, cursing, dirty talk, unprotected sex, doggy style on bike, bodily fluids on bike, bike sex, reader fainting due to intensity of orgasm, not proof read

you stare mindlessly at the tv while chewing your bottom lip, your legs pressed together to somehow calm your dying need of relief, you were alone in your house so you could help yourself out but after you started dating hwa your toys or your fingers haven't been able to help you reach your orgasm but maybe if you tried harder your toys could be useful but your loving boyfriend had hidden then from you well and you also weren't allowed to use them without his permission. your groaned and fell back against the couch going more restless second by second, turning the tv off you decided to snoop around again for the sake of finding your toys, you had checked your guys bedroom, guestroom, bathroom, even kitchen but they were no where to be found the only place you hadn't checked was the garage so you decided to head towards the direction of it.

the garage was also labeled as hwa's office (kinda) as he mostly spent his time there fixing and tuning his bike and sometimes his friends too so you had some hope that your toys could be there, as you opened the door you were greeted with the dimly lit up room so decided to turn on the lights and started to search for your belongings, the garage was well organized and clean so you it didn't took you much time to scan out the whole room, now standing in the middle on the room glaring at seonghwa in the picture that was hanging on the wall "fucking asshole" you muttered under your breath, you were about to head out when your gaze fell on the dark blue sleek bike standing there.

this bike was gifted to you by your boyfriend but you still didn't knew how to drive well so it was standing in the garage for most of the time, your feet moved forward in the direction of it admiring it when suddenly an idea popped up in your head, for 5 solid minutes you stood there contemplating your decision but your arousal grew more as you thought about it, without wasting much time you discarded your shorts and panties now just in a baggy shirt you grabbed the keys from the shelf and started the bike and revved it a bit the sound echoing through the whole room.

after examining the bike stand so you won't fall off you got on the bike, a low moan leaving your mouth as your bare wet core came in contact with the cold metal frame, steading yourself on it you started humping on it, the vibrations causing your cunt to flow like a river, after moving cautiously on it you started to increase your pace because the only thing on your mind was to achieve your deserved orgasm, a high pitched moan left your mouth as you revved the bike a bit more fuck did that felt like heaven, your hands slithered there way in your shirt pulling it off as you fingers pinched your nipples, the room filled with the sounds of your needy moans and bike engine.

as you felt the knot in your stomach was about to combust you increased your pace, now grinding faster chasing after the blissful feeling, revving the bike a bit more your orgasm rushed over you leaving you a panting and shivering mess, with teary eyes and swollen red lips from biting a complete fucked out mess.you turned off the bike , as you caught your breath, eyes closed and head limply resting against the handle of the bike the presence of your boyfriend went unnoticed by you, who was at loss of words starting at you both in shock and amazement, the whole ordeal made him hard as a rock and the only thing going through his mind was how good he was about to fuck you so next time you wouldn't be able to find relief with your new toy.

silently taking his own gear off except the gloves he now stood there in the room in a black tank top and his underwear and moved his feet in your direction, as he now stood hovering over he gently laid his hands on your plump hips, the sudden contact caused you to jerk up now face to face with your loving boyfriend "hwa when did you-u got home?" you asked him still in shock "just in time to watch the whole slutty show my slutty lover puts on behind me hmmm am I right my lil slut" " yeh did you liked it baby" you giggled and asked him as his hands started to roam around your body "fuckin' *kiss* loved *kiss* every *kiss* sec *kiss* of *kiss* it *kiss* baby *kiss*".

seonghwa's tongue was now intertwined with your own, his gloved hands on your hips and breasts groping and slapping them equally providing them with attention, your own hands tangled up in his hair and palming his aching cock "am gonna fuck you so good your new toy wont be of use anymore" he murmured against your lips diving again for a sloppy kiss "oh yeah prove it baby" taking your words as a challenge he detached his lips form yours and got behind you on the bike his feet still on the ground due to his height, lifting your hips up from the frame he glanced at the mess you made, cursing under his breath that 'how fucking hot is that' he pushed his boxers down, his cock sprang up tip angry red and leaking "arch for me baby" he ordered and you did as he said and arched your back now both your holes on display for him.

he grabbed your ass cheeks in his gloved hands pulling them more apart and spat on your already leaking cunt, groaning at the sight, he grabbed his cock and pushed only the head in teasing you "hwaaa~ you afraid of the chal- ahh fuck" before you could complete your sentence he rammed himself inside you till his balls smacked against your core, taking your arms in his one hand he held them on your back completely restricting you from any movement and with other he turned on the bike and revved it harshly while moving balls deep inside you "feelin' so good baby fuck", you mouth now only spewing moans and curses about how 'good it feels' while tears fell from your eyes.

seomghwa kept ramming in you hard and fast while his hand smacked and smoothed your ass cheeks each at a time making your mind hazy and stars in your eyes as your second orgasm rushed over you "fuck did you just came baby noo we were suppose to cum together come on give me another" he revved the bike again making you scream due of the sensitivity leaning down against your back his pace became inhumane while he nipped and sucked at your neck and shoulders, you were sure if it wasn't for him to be still standing you would have gone flying forward as a result of his pace "cummin' huh ahh cummin' cummin" you managed to speak some words in between the train of your moans "yes baby give it to me just like that" he buried his face in your back as he groaned his heart out as your walls clenched tightly around his cock, as he coated your walls white with his own cum.

both of your figures shivering and twitching, you both sat there for awhile catching your breaths after a few minutes of seonghwa detached himself from you his hands leaving your arms as the limply fell off your sides and pulled himself out of you, he stared in awe as both your juices seeped out of your whole and ran down the bike making him almost hard again taking a mental picture of it he, helped you off the bike and turned it off now carrying you in bridal style as you fell asleep (or fainted due the pleasure) seeing your sleepy state he took it as a win that he definitely won the challenge.

now this is totallyyyyy fictional but never try this irl man we don't know what might happen so stay safe and don't try doing weird shit this just fictional purposes

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eywa-eveng · 1 year

Text

ᴠᴏᴡs ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʙɪɴᴅ

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ – ᴛᴏɴᴏᴡᴀʀɪ & ʀᴏɴᴀʟ X ᶠᴱᴹ ᴹᴱᵀᴷᴬᵞᴵᴺᴬ ᴿᴱᴬᴰᴱᴿ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ – 12.8k

ɢᴇɴʀᴇ – angst, hurt/comfort, slight nsfw

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢs – pregnancy, mentions of childbirth

A lorpaytsyal with its rows of shimmering fins swims past, stirring a cloud of syuratan that glitters like a burst of blue stars over the sun speckled sand. The shape of the white light bends to the pattern of the rippling waves, tracing out swirling shapes that break only in the shadows beneath the rows of coral. The polyps bloom in shades of purple, spindly limbs weaving together to form a canopy of darkness. Some pieces are broken, the cracked knobs revealing inner layers where something tore away the unwanted sprigs. The stony flesh of the coral has been cracked and shaped into a small alcove, just big enough to host a nest. A bed of stray lengths of seaweed and dead fragments of coral sit in the space hollowed out in the shadiest part of the sea floor. It’s lit with only the faintest glow of blue algae that’s dotted over the eggs nestled within the shallow burrow. Nestled in the shallow burrow are eggs, enough that a few going missing wouldn’t be enough to noticeably deplete the clutch.

Light warms the hidden recess as you swim closer, the txampaysye clinging to your back filling the dusky hollow with the light of a soft sunrise. The pale green shells take on hues of gentle yellow and warm pink as you pick over the mound of eggs. They’re small, no larger than your palm, and each is only the weight of a small stone. You’re careful as you sift through them. The shells are soft and pliable, the texture like skin as you press lightly against each one. Curious fingers trace over the weighted areas of the wrinkled shells, feeling the slightest silhouette of the sea snake growing within. The light of the gill mantle is just enough to pierce through the thin membrane to the veins lacing through the shell. Each occupied egg is set gently aside but every few are empty, unviable. The shells harden when there is no life to support inside it. Though there’s no way for the mother to know that so you’re quick about your work, checking and replacing the eggs before an angry snake comes threading through the net of coral branches. By the time you’ve picked over the entire nest you’re left with a bounty of six eggs that you tuck gratefully into the satchel slung across your chest.

It’s already heavy with other trinkets found during your exploration. Pearls in shades of blue and pink, shards of crystal smoothed over by the tide, and shells formed into delicate designs. The fabric of your pouch is nearly over encumbered as you tuck the last egg inside, leather ties straining as you tighten it closed. Sunlight traces across your skin as you swim away from the resettled nest, spears of light beginning to poke through the farther you get from the center of the coral hoard. The light of your tanhì flickers out as you emerge, sunlight swallowing the flecks of bioluminescence as it dances over your skin. Its warmth is lost in the coolness of the water as you swim, calling for your tsurak with a few throaty clicks. It takes time and a few more calls before the skimwing returns in its own time, darting through the forest of sea plants and schools of meandering fish to find you, though it doesn’t stop to allow you to mount as it rushes past. There’s a practiced ease to catching the handle of its saddle and tucking yourself against its back. Tsurak are known to be temperamental creatures, stubborn and selective with who they allow to bond with them.

It is only your own temperament that keeps your fieresome companion returning after hunting in the open ocean. Some mounts have been known to leave the village and never return, leaving their rider to find another mount to bond with. It’s a vague fear whenever you go beyond the bounds of the village. You are not a hunter despite your childhood training. There is no reason for you to be beyond the seawall if not for your own pleasure and your tsurak knows this, can feel it each time tsaheylu is made. Your curiosity and excitement sings through the bond. It should’ve been tampered years ago and likely left you without a willing mount but you’ve yet to allow expectations to dampen your indulgences. There is balance in your excursions. For every treasure you find there is something of utility. Bones to be made into needles and knives, healing plants that only grow in the deeper waters, fish that seem to favor areas beyond the village. You leave no room for reproach and so you’ve been allowed to continue to spend your days however you’d like, coming and going as you please unless something in the village demands your attention. Still you return while the sun is still high in the sky.

The terraces are crowded with people fishing as your tsurak leaps over the wall, beating its wings with a loud screech that draws eyes to your arrival. There’s no slowing even as the shore draws closer. Instead you simply loosen your grip and pull your tswin free of the bond, sinking into the water as your tsurak turns tail towards the open water once more. It leaves you in a cloud of frothy bubbles stirred by the rapid swing of its tail fins, unbothered by your distance from land. This is the way of things between you. Your chosen mount is bolder than most, hardly tampered by your own personality echoed through tsaheylu. It is a privilege to ride such creatures and it never lets you forget even after so many years of bonding.

Warmth kisses your cheeks as you surface for a breath before diving back into the water. The morning had been tiring, your palms and feet scuffed and sore from climbing along the jagged edges of the island cliffs. The shore isn’t so far off that you’ll tire before you can reach it yet you still roll to your back and allow your body to float on the gentle waves. A deep orange glow plays behind your eyelids as you close them against the bright light beaming overhead, the heat of it drying the drops of water from your exposed skin. Beneath the water, the lazy paddling of your tail is interrupted by a quick tug that shocks your eyes open, stinging your gaze with the white heat of the sun. It’s hardly frightening as you recognize the distinct feeling of fingers wrapped around your appendage, though it isn’t exactly a pleasant sort of shock. The white clouds seared into your eyes disappear as your secondary lids slide closed as you look beneath the water to see the one bold enough to snatch at your tail.

A sharp swing of your hips yanks you free of Tayku’s grip and he lets go willingly, raising his hands in a show of peace even as a roguish smile plays at his scarred lips. The boy is young–young enough to be your son–and yet he chases your tail as if it’s dipped in nectar. There’s an air of flirtation about him as he swims circles around you, the smug smile never leaving his face. His intentions are clear, as clear as your own answer has been. A terse rejection is what he and all your other suitors have received since this new season of courting began. It’s why you find yourself beyond the bounds of Awa’atlu more often than not in recent days. To avoid interactions such as these where the newly made men of the clan come nipping at your ankles, yapping about giving you strong sons.

It wouldn’t be so terrible if they were closer to your own age, if you hadn’t watched them grow up alongside your firstborn. Each of his life achievements you’d been there to see and now he’s pulling his tswin over his shoulder in a bold display of his intentions. It would almost be endearing if he was younger and didn’t yet know the weight of his words and what he is asking for. But he’s a man now, one of the People, and knows exactly what he’s asking for as he tilts his head and flashes his fangs. You watch him posture and boast in the water for a few moments longer before rolling your eyes hard enough to open your secondary lids and turn to swim towards the shore.

A brief surface for air gives Tayku a chance to swim beneath you and you nearly knock into him when you dive under again. He’s close, not so close that you can scold his overly familiar behavior, but just near enough that you can’t forget his presence. He clings close like a fish to the underside of a nalutsa, swimming with his face towards the surface and eyes on you. His distance is well-placed, just far enough to keep out of range of your annoyance. For all their simpering advances the young men don’t allow their infatuation to cloud their knowledge of your brash personality. This is the closest Tayku has gotten in all his advances and he still knows to keep out of your reach after inciting your temper with his childish grabbing. You’ve never been known to be particularly docile. If you were a fruit your skin would have thorns and your meat would be sour before it turned sweet, a delicacy only few people could enjoy despite the outwardly attractive look.

«I was looking for you earlier.» Tayku signs, perfectly timing his words to your sparing glances towards him. It isn’t interest that draws your eyes to him. You’re more curious to see if he’ll leave you be if he’s ignored, though it seems Tayku has taken your brief glances to mean more than they are. He must have because he doesn’t abandon the conversation even as you arrive at the village, pulling yourself on to one of the many overhanging paths without so much as a parting glance. He stutters for a moment as you whip your loose hair over your shoulder, pelting his face with stray drops of water.

“Where did you go today?” He asks after pushing his own damp hair away from his face, arm flexing purposefully. He’s harder to ignore outside of the water being the size that he is. Tall and wide, crowding your vision as he trots along beside you, uncaring of where you may be leading him. It hardly matters. The village is a place of finite spaces and he’s well aware of where your marui is. All of your suitors are if the gifts left outside your pod are any indication. Newly tanned fish leather, a carved box full of delicate beads, a freshly caught fish wrapped in thick leaves. There has been no shortage of anything in your home since the village welcomed its newest adults into the ranks.

It feels so strange to be spoiled in this way again after so many years. Your time for courting had come and gone with no mate to show for it. Your son was made from a humble request for a fertility match. A quiet meeting with the village elders and tsahìk praying that Eywa grant you the child you’d so desperately wanted despite your lack of a mate. It had taken some time but they found an auspicious match and you fell pregnant quickly after, still unmated but filled with new life. It’s just as well that the two of you forwent the forging of tsaheylu seeing as your child’s father went on to be named olo’eyktan soon after you fell pregnant. He was mated off to the chosen tsahìk as is tradition and you certainly didn’t have the knowledge to assume such an esteemed position.

The three of you became a true family, raising your children together as proper siblings despite their mixed parentage. And seeing Ronal pregnant again after so many years has raised the desire to be a mother within you once more. It was your mistake in making your intentions known to others because now you have men like Tayku trailing after you in the hopes that they’ll be the father of your next child. Never mind that they’re all nearly the same age as your first, some younger in fact. Far too young to be sniffing after you like a hunting nantang. You say as much but Tayku simply laughs, tossing his head back as if you’ve just told the funniest joke. He’s hardly being subtle in his advances. It’s nearly desperate how badly he wants to please you and yet he won’t indulge your greatest desire of being left alone to find a willing man on your accord. You’d been there for the first matchmaking and now know what to look for. An unestablished man is not something you are interested in at your age. If you are to share a parultsyìp with someone you’d rather they know their place among the clan.

Tonowari was beyond your expectations. The day the elders had collected you, and led you to a marui seldom used and sequestered within a particularly thick thatch of mangrove roots, you hadn’t known what to expect. Least of your wildest imaginings had been the clan’s finest warrior and chosen successor to the olo’eyktan. Everything that Tayku is even now in his youth is a single spark next to the open flame that Tonowari was when he was the same age. He’d been a few years your elder when you formally met, already covered in a multitude of scars and tattoos. Testamates to his prowess. It was your honor to give him his first child.

His arrangement with Ronal was to the benefit of the clan and you’d never begrudge them that. If not for the elders’ decision you would’ve been settled with less than the best the clan had to offer you. It hardly mattered that he was mated so soon after. And now, nothing would make you lower yourself to allow the first man that asks to father your next child. If you were to have another baby it would be with a man who had earned his place within the clan, not these boys that had only just come into their own.

“Did you find anything interesting today?” Despite your lack of answers Tayku keeps up a steady stream of chatter that sounds like bugs buzzing in your ear. He’s sweet and eager to please, and handsome despite the thick scar running through his lips. He will make a woman very happy someday. But not you. And you aren’t selfish enough to rein him in until you’re satisfied that he’s proven himself. That could take months or years and by that time he’d expect to mate fully for all the trouble you’d put him through. It wasn’t something you wanted.

Being tied so closely to someone has always held a bit of terror to someone like you, utterly uninterested in staying tied down. When you were younger you dreamed of exploring the ocean, of visiting with neighboring sea clans and learning their traditions. But now you have your son, you have your family. Even without a mate you’ve managed to halt any plans of leaving Awa’atlu for too long. Still your childish fear of being mated persists. It may be rare but mating bonds can go sour and without death to break it you’re left tied to someone your soul no longer desires. It makes you wonder if Tayku even realizes what he’s asking of you. He has heard that you want another child, yes, but he courts you as if he expects tsaheylu to be made. You’re little more than a stranger to him, the mother of his childhood friend. To be tied to you could be his nightmare but he can’t see past the opportunity to lay with a previously untouchable woman. The thought is dizzying.

“Don’t you have chores to attend to?” You ask at last, tiring of him shadowing your every move through the village. He raises his chin, grinning down at you, most likely elated that you’ve finally deigned to speak to him after his flaccid attempts at starting a conversation.

“I’m already finished. I went hunting early this morning and my catch was enough for the day.” He goes on about the two large fish he caught along with his regular bounty, enough to measure the haul of any other hunter still out fishing beyond the reef, caught within the first few hours of the day. “I wanted to bring you one but I couldn’t find you.” Just as well because you wouldn’t have accepted his gift. A fish as large as he says is far too sumptuous to hoard to yourself with only you and your family. It’s a lavish courting gift, one that anyone would be elated to receive, but it would be passed out of your hands just as quickly as it came, sent off to feed the village as it should.

“Do not feed me before the village. Your duties come before your indulgences.” It’s what you were always told when you were caught sneaking off somewhere but he blinks as if he’s never been scolded in the same way, his smile slipping for a moment. Your words are no harsher than they’d usually be but it seems they’ve finally started to break through the shell of adoration he’s formed around himself. Of all your aspiring mates he is one that has lasted the longest, clinging to even the thinnest thread of hope that you might one day share in his laughter or return a flirting remark. Instead you’ve remained steadfast in your rejection. In the days to come you can only hope he will fall away and shun you like the others, scorned and embarrassed by their own insistence that they’d be the exception. His mood only worsens, smile falling completely, when your son’s voice carries down the path towards the two of you.

Ketsräno stands with his brother at his side, both their faces drawn tight in a show of hostility. Ao’nung has his spear in hand, ears drawn back as he glowers at the man beside you. Tayku is closer to his age, an old playmate and friend that slowly fell away as his responsibilities expanded. It is easy to see why neither of your sons would be happy to find an old acquaintance lingering close to their mother.

“Ma Sempul is asking for you.” Ketsräno says, eyes not leaving Tayku’s face. A heaving sigh empties your lungs. Returning to the village has been one inconvenience strung after another like beads choked around your throat. It had been your hope to return home and go over all of the morning’s findings, but the wind has seen fit to blow you from one discomfort to the next. Tonowari is one of the people you’d least like to see today aside from these men flocking to you like hì’ikran over a dead fish. His sentiment towards you seems to have soured lately and you aren’t keen on subjecting yourself to his sullen mood. But the summons seem to keep Tayku at bay, at the very least. Any man with love for his life would be too afraid to follow you into the akula’s den Tonowari’s home has become in regards to you. Or perhaps he simply isn’t keen on testing your sons as they part to allow you past before meeting shoulder to shoulder once more, a clear sign for their old friend to keep his distance.

They’re fiercely protective of both you and Ronal. It’s your hope that you’ll find the tsahìk at home beside her husband but there is no such grace upon your arrival. The marui is deserted save for the olo’eyktan sitting just inside the entrance whittling away at a piece of gnarled driftwood.

A glance at the sun still sitting at its peak in the sky tells you none of your children will be joining their father for many hours to come. Tsireya will be teaching the village children, and Ao’nung and Ketsräno will likely have returned to their own chores. If Eywa is kind Ronal might return to relieve some of the tension already beginning to fill the home. Emotional discord incites her temper. As tsahìk she empathizes in a way that runs far deeper than anyone else and the labor on her soul is nearly exhausting at times. Her tolerance for such things in her own home has dwindled to nothingness with her pregnancy. If your silent prayers are heard Ronal will return shortly and send you away before Tonowari can finish saying his piece. Because he seems to be in no rush to speak to you despite asking for you as wood shavings gather at his feet. It must be his expectation that you’ll speak first, a trap for him to find something to pick at you for. You tighten your satchel over your chest and hope he won’t ask about its contents as you go about making a purposeful formal greeting.

“Oel ngati kameie, olo’eyktan.” You bow far lower than necessary and watch Tonowari’s lip twitch with displeasure. “Your son said that you were looking for me. How may I be of service, nawmtu?” It’s a thinly veiled dig and he knows it. There’s no reason for such formalities between the two of you. You may not be his mate but he is still the father of your child and that affords you some privileges when it comes to speaking with him. Purposefully invoking formal speech is a slight against him, as if he is a stranger to you, a clan leader and nothing more. At last he sets aside the wood he’s carved into a lethal point and sheathes his knife, standing to his full height. His jaw is set, muscles flicking beneath the ink of his tattoos.

“‘Nawmtu?’” His tone is curt, brows knit tight as he stares down at you.

“Have I said something wrong?” He nods with soured understanding at your coy question, clearly not pleased with your sudden lack of sense. He stands aside and nods for you to enter and you bow in thanks despite having entered his home many times with no permission needed. This is the place your son was raised, of course you have long since been given leave to come and go as you please. And yet you stand just inside the entrance, feet not moving a step further until Tonowari pulls the covering shut to be sure your meeting won’t be disturbed. Any hope of Ronal coming to dissuade her mate’s brewing anger is dissipated with the closing of the curtain.

Without the uncovered entrance the marui has gone somewhat dark, only the faintest light filtering through the blue membrane woven into the curved wall. It’s not so dark that you can’t see but just dim enough that Tonowari’s tanhì have come to life. Anxiety curls in your stomach like stinging tendrils. What had you done to make him so upset with you that he wants no one to stumble upon this conversation? Many nights have been wasted worrying over what could’ve made him turn so cold towards you in recent times, and many more days were lost returning the bitter feelings he has given you. The love you thought you had for each other has withered on the vine, leaving only this angry awkwardness in its wake. At least Ronal is still kind, still loving, albeit more distant than before.

If he will not speak on it you will not ask. So the two of you stand in the dusky room, eyeing each other with no words to say. He has called you here. If he wants to speak you’ll hear him, but it won’t be your voice that sparks the embers simmering between you.

“Sit.” He says at last. His voice is stripped of any emotion. There’s only the blunt command of a man above your rank. Your knees find the woven floor and your teeth nip at your lip, biting near to bursting to keep your less than polite remarks at bay. It’s clear his patience with your attitude has thinned beyond salvaging. It feels as if you’re a child at your parent’s feet, waiting to be scolded for unruly behavior despite your age. You’ve aged far beyond reproach, but no matter your relations Tonowari is still olo’eyktan.

“There are no eyes but mine to see you now, so let this song and dance be finished.” He expects that your attitude will dissipate because he asked it of you? After weeks of animosity he wants to call off your ire with only a few words. Not even an apology for forcing you to anger. It’s almost insulting how sure he seems of your complacency. He walks to sit behind you and you flinch at the feeling of his hand brushing behind your ear. First one then the other as he removes the dried fish fins you weave into your hair. The style is reminiscent of how forest Na’vi adorn their hair with feathers, though it’s a rarer style to find in Awa’atlu. Still, in recent times you’ve noticed younger women beginning to favor your hair ornaments and clothing. Likely in the hopes of catching one of the men trying their hardest to court you. The thought of Tayku and the rest willfully ignoring girls that would happily be courted only further sours your mood and distracts you enough that Tonowari’s hand brushing against the nape of your neck startles you.

“What is on your mind that you’re so distant from me?” His voice rolls like thunder through the dark pod as he begins to comb through your hair, carefully unwinding any tangles he finds. So it’s you that wedged this distance between you? It also must have been you that started this battle of poorly concealed anger. How can you be faulted for your distance when it was he who first sent you away with his sudden lack of kindness?

“Where is Ronal?” It is not what you mean to say but it’s the only thought plaguing your mind aside from the resentment festering in your heart.

“Ronal?” He seems taken aback. “I’ve called you here and you are thinking of her? How far your heart has gone from me.”

“It isn’t me who put this distance between us.” You say bitterly. It is not your place to be faulted for his own lack of accountability.

“No?” He doesn’t sound convinced. If anything he sounds more incensed than he had been before. “I’ve been hearing things recently, talk among the People.”

“There is always talk in the village.” It’s how days are passed. Idle chatting about small squabbles and other petty drama between people. Family rivalries persist through generations, childhood rifts persist through the years, age old stories are told to warn younglings against the mistakes of the past. Talk never ceases, it rolls in and out like the tide, constantly renewing with more things to whisper and laugh over while cooking or fishing. The elders of the village are far more intune with the business of everyone else, but it isn’t so surprising that things have gotten back to Tonowari. It is his job to keep the clan in harmony and he can’t do that if he allows conflicts to fester without at least a small acknowledgement.

“Yes, there is always talk, but very seldom does it involve your name.”

“But it isn’t surprising if it does.” Whatever gossip has spread with your name linked to it can hardly be of consequence. “Is someone questioning my abilities as a tattooist? I’ve heard Wepxtil has gotten better at his craft as of late. If he wants to spread word that his abilities have eclipsed mine I don’t care enough to stop him.” You’re one of the most renowned tattooists in the clan and many people carry your marks on their skin. The elders have said that hands like yours are only born once every few generations. If someone wants to question your abilities they’ll simply have to ask Eywa why she has blessed you so graciously.

“It isn’t about your tattoos. No one would believe that someone that just passed his rites could rival your abilities. It is about other names that have been spoken in the same breath as yours. Rumors of your future.”

“Speak clearly then.” You’re growing tired of his words swimming in circles.

“There is talk of you wanting another child.” He says it as if he’s swallowed poison, like the words sting his tongue as he speaks.

“Is that all? It is the truth. I want another child. Ketsräno is a man now. He doesn’t need his mothers to dote on him as Ronal and I used to. My nest will be empty once he finds a mate. I want a new baby to love. Seeing Ronal pregnant again has made me miss motherhood. She looks so happy. I’m jealous.” The last part is said in jest as an attempt to lighten the heaviness in the air. You could never be jealous of Ronal. She is strong and beautiful, yes, but she is your equal in family matters. Your hearts share a bond that is deeper than simple friendship. Her children are yours in all but blood. You’ve raised them as your own just as she has raised your son. There is only love between you. Or there had been before this sudden rift. Tonowari doesn’t seem to hear the joke in your voice. His hands fall still in your hair.

“Jealous?”

“Not truly.” You rush, trying to keep the exasperation from your voice. “I only meant that seeing her pregnant again has brought back cherished memories. I’m not too old to have another. I would like to have at least one more.”

“So it’s true. You want another child.”

“Why are you treating this as if it is a problem? I expected that you’d be happy for me.”

“Happy?” His anger bubbles over at last. His hands fall away from their idle combing and he stands to pace, tail strained tight with tension. “How can I find happiness when you try to keep this from me? I didn’t hear these words from your own mouth, I had to hear them from others.”

“I hadn’t thought it mattered to tell you. I was going to see about any unmated men of the clan that showed interest before asking for another match from the elders. Though I suppose I should’ve gone to the elders as I had before, or at least asked Ronal of her opinion. Trying to find a match myself has been like catching fish in a torn net.” Which is to say it has been a failure, time and time again. The men your age had overlooked you once before or you turned away their offers of courtship for one reason or another. In the years since Ketsräno’s birth your options have only continued to dwindle. Now it feels as if you’re trying to reap crops from infertile land.

“You still have not mentioned speaking to me about this.”

“What need would I have of your advice? I respect your word, of course, but fertility matches are matters for tsahìk and the elders. Olo’eyktan was not needed for my last match.” His insistence surprises you. Tonowari has been a strong and magnanimous leader since he was named olo’eyktan but he has always known his place, deferring to Ronal and consulting with village elders on things that were beyond his years of wisdom. Never have you known him to dip his hand into things that were of no concern to his position. He shifts to kneel before you, body moving with the tight precision of a bow being drawn. Tension has gathered on his shoulders beneath his mantle of akula teeth.

“What need?” He tilts his head in a way you recognize, ears quirking upwards in interest as he assumes the tone he’d always use when the children asked him a simple question. It was slow and understanding of their lack of knowledge. For him to turn it on you as if you know nothing of what you speak about is patronizing. At last your distaste can’t be quelled and your lips pull back to show the points of your teeth. Instead of heeding the obvious show of hostility Tonowari laughs. It’s short and humorless but a chuckle nonetheless.

Heat flashes across your cheeks, down your neck, and up your ears as they pull tight against your head. The loud hiss that accompanies the burst of hot embarrassment is perhaps the first you’ve ever directed at Tonowari. There’s never been a need to snap at him aside from a few dissatisfied scoffs when his words are just a touch too cruel when the children have misbehaved, though you’re admittedly the least strict of the three of you. Still it’s well deserved now as he treats you as if you’re a child for not confiding in him something that was none of his concern. Perhaps you might’ve told him when you found a match as you would’ve everyone else close to you, but now, before decisions have been made? He has no part in it.

You draw in a deep breath through your nose before pushing it out of your chest. “Apologize. Now.”

“You want an apology?” His tone isn’t as cruel now. Instead he sounds disbelieving as if demanding anything of him is beyond what he expected of your audacity.

“Yes, I want an apology. You’ve been speaking to me with such disdain as if I’ve done something wrong for making a change in my life! It hasn’t even come to pass and here you are shaming me for going about it in a way that doesn’t suit your tastes. Apologize and tell me plainly what you want to say. I can’t know your mind if you do not share it with me.” The two of you are not mates, you do not share the deep emotional bond that forms when tsaheylu is made. Perhaps Ronal as tsahìk and his mate could parse what has been eating at his spirit but you aren’t so enlightened to his deepest thoughts. If he has something weighing on his mind the only way to share it is through words. Not this callous critiquing and avoiding he’s taken to.

Tonowari sits back on his heels, no longer leaning towards you as he seems to mull over your words. His eyes linger on your face as if he’s trying to trace the shape of your pil with his gaze. It would almost be disheartening, his silence, if you didn’t know him to be a man of carefully considered words. In all things he is calm and collected. Striking only when a target is within reach and speaking only when he’s sure of his words.

“I’m disappointed.” He says at last.

“Disappointed?” Your voice is pitched with disbelief. “Because I want an apology after the way you’ve been treating me?”

“Because you can’t seem to imagine why I would want to be told about this.” He still doesn’t sound angry. He rarely is. But he truly does sound incredulous as his lips pinch together to stave off the smile curling at the corners of his mouth. If he’d been truly upset before, the feeling has passed like a storm. Now he seems amused as he watches you work through your thoughts. He’s speaking in riddles, words tied into knots for you to try to unravel.

“Is this because of Ketsräno?” At last a gentler expression finds the olo’eyktan’s face.

“In part, yes, this is because of our son.” The way he says it is more possessive than you’ve ever known him to be. Our son. A reminder that the two of you will always be intrinsically linked no matter the paths you choose to walk. Still, you can’t fully understand his meaning.

“What about our son? I have no interest in any of his old friends that have been fawning over me if that is your worry.”

He frowns. “They should not be trying to court you.”

“I’ve made my disinterest known but they’re rather persistent. It’s almost insulting that they think I would entertain their advances even for a moment.”

“I agree, they’re reaching far beyond their place. But it would stop if you made your choice. I can be of assistance if you would only let me.”

“Then who would you suggest?” He seems taken about by your requests for a name as if he hadn’t just offered his insight in the matter. When you say nothing more he nods slowly as if he’s made a decision he doesn’t wish to share.

“If you don’t know then I don’t wish to speak of it any longer. Clearly our hearts aren’t as closely aligned as I once thought we were.” He decides.

“If you don’t wish to speak then I’ll leave. No sense in us sitting here exchanging barbs. You won’t tell me what you truly want to say and I’m not going to force it from you. It’s clear neither of us are in a place to speak kindly with one another.” He stands as you do, and for a moment you expect him to stand in your way. He doesn’t but seems to think better of it as his hand catches your shoulder before you can push the covering aside. With the petulance of a child you wrench your shoulder free of his hand only to tear your satchel as the overencumbered fabric finally gives way under the harsh movement. Crystals, shells, pearls, and eggs spill over the floor, leaving a glittering heap at your feet. For a moment you simply stand there, not even looking down to acknowledge the mess that’s been made of your collection. When at last you look down Tonowari is already there collecting what he can into his hands, pausing when he picks up one of the eggs. He stands, staring at the small egg in his palm.

“How many times have I asked you to stay out of their nests?” He asks slowly, fist curling around the hardened shell. It won’t burst as a fertile egg would but there’s a fear that his hold will be enough to shatter it as his knuckles begin to pale with the tightness of his grip. You ignore him and gather what you can in your hands, fully intending to leave without another word. He doesn’t allow you. Instead he lifts your chin with a gentle hand, blue eyes burning into yours.

“You never listen.” He says softly. “What if you’d been hurt?”

“I wasn’t. I am not a child. I can take care of myself.” You say hotly despite the common knowledge that the ocean holds beauty and danger in equal parts. On another day you might’ve heeded his words as a gentle reminder to take care of yourself and not sprint into danger, but today you only hear incessant insults.

“You’re acting like a child.” He snaps, anger finally rushing forward. You scoff, stepping back away from his touch. With your salvaged treasures held tight to your chest you turn to leave. He calls after you, drawing eyes to watch you stride purposefully away from him. Here is more kindle for their fire. How the rumors will grow with whispers of strife between you and Tonowari. No one but your family has seen the growing tensions between the two of you and now it’s laid bare for all to see. The prying eyes allow you the courtesy of pretending not to see either of you as he storms back inside, not bothering to follow you. His stubbornness is a blessing as you retreat home with all the dignity of a finless fish.

What has changed? What has gone so wrong that Tonowari seems perturbed by your every decision. The first instances of his more callous attitude trace back to when you’d idly mentioned having another child while fishing in the terraces. The seawall has always been a breeding pool for village gossip and it doesn’t surprise you that rumors have sprung up like flowers in the wake of your thoughtless banter. He must’ve hoarded the knowledge to himself, let it poison his every thought of you until it all came rushing forward at once.

There’s a braided band of flowers waiting just outside the marui when you return home and you nudge it inside with your foot, quickly drawing your own coverings to properly wallow in your thoughts by your lonesome. The treasures you salvaged from the floor are dumped unceremoniously into a basket. Some had gotten left behind but you don’t even want to look at what you’d managed to save. Instead you focus on cooking. Lighting a fire and gathering ingredients to keep your mind from wandering.

Ketsräno doesn’t come home even when the evening deepens to night. It isn’t anything out of the ordinary, him not joining you to eat. Most meals are taken in communal eating areas or with the entire family. It is you that hasn’t been where you’re expected to be of late, the shared hostility driving you away from the simple comforts of a family meal. Instead you eat in silence, watching the dying embers of the cookfire. The night isn’t quite deep enough to sleep but you’re exhausted both physically and mentally.

Tomorrow will be spent close to home, perhaps sequestered away just as you are now, with chores that keep you away from anyone else. Leaving home would mean facing your foolhardy suitors and disgruntled olo’eyktan. Neither sound appealing as you go about straightening the marui in the fading firelight before unfurling your bedroll, keen to be done with the day. You’ve only just laid down when someone enters the pod. Expecting that it’s your son returning from his meal, you simply roll away from the light coming through the parted covering, intent on falling asleep as quickly as possible. The blue light of Naranawm disappears just as quickly as it appears in the corner of your eye as the curtain is drawn once more. When no word of a greeting comes you know it isn’t your son. After a moment the marui swells with flickering light despite your groaning protests.

“I am sleeping.” You complain, pulling the dark curls of your hair across your eyes in a vain attempt to shun the low light now filling your home.

“Not deeply enough to stop you from speaking.” Ronal tuts. “I come to comfort you and you can’t spare me a single look?” Of course it’s her that has come for an unannounced visit. Where was she when you needed her earlier to help mitigate her mate’s bitter attitude?

“What do you want, Ronal?” You sigh, finally sitting up to look at her. You needed her with you before, now you shun her presence as she stands beside the shell torch she’s lit with the forgotten wreath of flowers in her hand. It sets her hair alight with a wash of amber light that plays across the thick waves, green eyes paling in the orange light as she scowls at the gift. Distasteful fingers pluck at the flowers before she tosses it down. More petals fall when it lands but she hardly seems interested in the mess she’s made of one of your courting gifts. Truthfully, don’t want that gift or any of the others but there was still work that went into crafting it for you. Maybe you’d kicked it earlier but it deserves better treatment than being torn at by Ronal’s judging fingers. The gift and the boy that left it for you deserve better than your scorn.

“I want you to be rid of your anger, firstly.” She frowns. “I’ve only just arrived. You have no reason to be upset with me. If you have anger you’d better dispel it before you decide to turn that venomous tongue against me.”

In most things you and the tsahìk are perfectly matched. That includes a shared propensity for sharp retorts, though Ronal seems to keep her brashness reserved for you in specific. Perhaps because you’re the only one that won’t startle at her blunt responses. Her tongue is sharp as an arrowhead when she means it to be and she won’t spare you from a verbal sparring match if you provoke her. She’s likely to trade jabs with you long into the night if you think to turn your dour mood against her. Though she’s stirred your irritation simply by coming to disturb your peace when it was clear from the shut covering that you want to be left alone for the night.

You stifle another sigh, letting the anger rush away from you in a deep exhale. “I’m sorry. Did you want something?”

“I want nothing, it’s you that wants something. Another child, I’ve heard.” It isn’t a question. She means to tell you she already knows what it is that’s upset you and that she’s here to rectify the situation. She and Tonowari must’ve had time to themselves before the children returned home for the night. Ronal wouldn’t dare to raise such a topic of conversation where their ears could hear of their parents’ quarreling, though this goes far beyond the typical spats shared throughout the years. This will set a rift between the three of you that might never be bridged or mended.

“I do,” your tone is careful, “though it seems my desire has disappointed everyone.” Ronal turns towards you with a swiftness, long skirt twirling around her legs as she snaps at you.

“Skxawng. Sometimes I think you are willfully wrong.” The heel of her hand thumps your temple when you stand, as if she’s expecting something to rattle loose inside your head. All it earns her is a warning oìsss as you smack her hand away, temper flaring once more.

“Is it my lack of sense or everyone’s lack of explanation?” I snap. “Everyone seems upset but no one will tell me why. May the Great Mother guide me because I do not know what to do anymore.”

“Ask.” She says it as if you’ve yet to think of such a solution.

“Ask? That is all?” She stares patiently, emptily. Enough to draw a scowl to your lips. “Alright, Ronal, what do you suggest I do?” Her ear twitches at your sardonic tone but she seems to accept your words as a genuine plea for help. And it is, because you’re desperate to return your life to some semblance of peace. To do away with the pesky suitors and despondent looks from those around you.

“You are asking for a fertility match?” This is hardly the formal environment in which you first kneeled before the previous tsahìk and passed on elders all those years ago, but Ronal is still tsahìk and she can make a ruling on the matter despite the lax environment. When you confirm your wish she hums.

“I have already chosen someone suitable for you, if you’ll have him.”

You’re hardly convinced. “Who?”

“Tonowari.” She says easily. Your heart turns to stone in your chest, the weight of it dropping to your stomach. A flash of something cold prickles across your skin like an ocean spray as humiliation warms your cheeks.

“Don’t mock me!” For a moment you truly thought that she had come to offer her guidance as tsahìk but even now she is clearly teasing, trying to further incite your ire. What had you done that both of the people you hold dearest seek to toy with you in this way. A prickling heat rises behind your eyes as tears begin to blur the edges of your vision. All these years of love and compassion and they’re tossing it aside to tease you for daring to want something more in this life. Ketsräno is all you have that is truly yours and even he is shared with his father. Soon he’ll slip between your fingers, passed from one hand to another as he makes his own path and finds his rightful place among the clan. Is it such an awful thing that you want to go through the journey again? Raising your son has been your greatest honor, more than any glory you’ve received within the clan. You were meant to be a mother and they’re mocking you for it.

“Get out.” Ronal seems surprised, ears flicking upward as her brows rise in disbelief. “Get out!”

“No.” She sounds astonished that you’d ask her to leave.

“Leave! Get out and leave me be!” You aren’t shouting, not yet, mindful that the woven walls aren’t thick enough to trap your voice inside if you speak too loud.

“Mawey, paskalin.” The term of endearment is hardly mollifying but you gather yourself even so. Anger has turned to sadness and all you want is to be left alone. By Ronal, by Tayku. Everyone. The chaffed heels of your hands are rough against your cheeks as you dry your tears. Ronal pulls your hands away from your face to lead you to your bedroll, pulling you down to sit in front her. Slowly she releases your hands in favor of holding your face. Her thumbs are soft as they brush away the stray tears still beading in your eyes.

“Ease your storm.” Her voice is low as a roll of thunder though you can’t decide if the rain is coming or going. Going it would seem, as she holds your face like a precious stone between her hands.

“I would never do anything to hurt you. Why have you lost faith in us?” Us. As if Tonowari didn’t look to be cursing your name the last you saw him. You left him. Walked away without a second glance as if he meant nothing. A bridge has two sides and both of you have burned them in turn.

“You have been hurting me at every turn in recent days. Where were you earlier? Surely you knew Tonowari was going to express his anger eventually and you left me with him to drown. At least if you had come to send me away I wouldn’t be so upset now.”

“So it is my fault that Tonowari wished to tell you his feelings? He is a grown man–your olo’eyktan and father of your son–if he wants to air his grievances with you, that is no business of mine. Do not put the blame on me for his actions.”

“The same way you aren’t blaming me? Because it certainly feels like there is no one else in the world you’d rather snap at than me. What bond can we have if it frays so easily? Son or not, there is no us. Both of you have made that plain to see. There is me and then there’s you and Tonowari. I regret that I spent so long thinking otherwise.”

Ronal tilts her head impatiently. “You don’t believe that.”

“No? Why shouldn’t I when all either of you has done for the past weeks is belittle and mock me for something you would never begrudge another woman? Tonowari acts as though I am stupid for not knowing what he won’t say and doing as I please. And now you’re here to tell me I’m wrong, too. I don’t want to hear it anymore, so, please, leave. Leave so we can move on from this. You are still tsahìk. I will always respect you as such but right now I’m not certain my heart can take being so close to you.”

Ronal looks as though you’ve struck her across the face, green eyes growing wider with each passing word. For a moment you expect her to stand and storm out, to go back to her home and her family and be done with you as you’ve requested. Instead she sits in silence. Her face is guarded as you try to read her thoughts through the subtle shifting of her muscles. The firelight doesn’t help as it throws shifting shadows over the shape of her face, hollowing her cheeks one moment and darkening her eyes the next. When at last she speaks her voice is doleful,

“We’ve hurt you. It was never our intention and it pains my heart to know your hurt was done by my own hand.” She won’t cry, she’s too resolute for that, but the upset is evident in her voice. “But, you’ve hurt us, too.” Perhaps you have caused them grief lashing out the way you have but it doesn’t absolve them of anything. Biting the hand that stabbed you doesn’t heal your own wounds.

“We’ve become clouded so let me say this and clear the air; Tonowari and I have given our souls to each other as mates. Before Eywa, tsaheylu was made. This is known.” You nod, unsure of what she’s trying to say.

“A mating bond is made by choice. A choice you have decided to never make. We know this. But it is not the only way to be bound to someone. There are vows and oaths, bonds made through words and actions. And you made that bond when you didn’t estrange Tonowari from his son, when you allowed me to raise Ketsräno with you. A fertility match is usually forgotten when one partner finds a mate, but you felt no such need to shun us or hide yourself away. You stayed by our side from the moment you were matched.” Her hand brushes the edge of your shoulder as she reaches behind you to draw your tswin forward. Her fingers are gentle as they trace the weave of your hair wrapped tight around the sensitive nerves within.

“Your first tsaheylu is with your mother.” She’s suddenly quieter, eyes distant as she winds your thick braid between careful fingers. “I remember when Ketsräno was born. You were tired but you smiled brighter than I’d ever seen as you held your son and made the first bond, and you didn’t rest until you’d seen Tonowari and I bond with him, as well. I thought from that moment on we all acknowledged our place in each others’ hearts.”

The day is one you will remember for the rest of your life. Ketsräno had come early in the day, just as the sun was beginning to peak over the horizon. Most of the night had been spent warring against the pain in the shallows, squeezing tight to Tonowari’s hands as he held you and Ronal tended to what he couldn’t. It had been only the three of you and your spirit sister until you were far enough to call the clan to witness the birth of a new life. Your cheeks were sticky with tears by the time Ketsräno came at last into the pink light of dawn, legs kicking to the surface as he made easy work of his First Breath. There was the usual whooping and cheering but you didn’t truly hear any of it, far too enamored with your little son.

It was a moment meant to be shared with the clan but all that mattered to you was the family gathered around you. There was exhaustion and blinding happiness filling your head and then the gentle thrum of Ketsräno’s vitra as you made the first tsaheylu. There hadn’t been a thought in your mind in regards to what allowing Tonowari and Ronal to bond with Ketsräno would mean, and now you are dealing with the consequences of your addled decisions so many years later. In that moment you had treated the olo’eyktan and tsahìk as your mates and continued every moment after. You don’t regret it, not for a moment, but you loathe your own ignorance. Tears begin to burn anew in your eyes as you recognize your mistake.

“I’m sorry.” Over one misunderstanding you had nearly burned your world to the ground. “I’m sorry, Ronal.”

“Hear me now, paskalin. Listen well because I don’t want to have to repeat this ever again.” Her tone is strict but not without her own stern sort of affection. “Oel ngati kameie. Nga yawne lu oer. I will say this once and you will carry it in your heart for the rest of your life; we are yours, and you are ours.” You know it. A hidden piece of your heart has always known that even if you never found a mate you would be content with your life with Ronal and Tonowari. But they’re mated with each other. Of course you never considered you could fit in a place where two halves already made a whole.

“Tonowari has been in love with you from the moment he was set to be your fertility match. His love for you was easy. I didn’t earn his affections so easily, you remember.” You do. Being olo’eyktan or tsahìk is a heavy burden to bear and while Ronal always did so with grace it was plain to your eyes as someone close to both of them that their love took some time to blossom. They were awkward with each other, stepping lightly to avoid any upset before finding their standing as a mated couple. Ao’nung and the rest followed soon after. So strange that two arrangements had such different results. Or perhaps not seeing as the three of you managed to tie your hearts together in the end. Though you never considered your place in their lives to be valued in the same way they regarded each other. Clearly you’d been wrong all these years.

She leans in close to rest her forehead against yours and heat builds in the space between your lips as you breathe against each other. It’s a familiar sort of closeness that you’ve neglected to think could ever mean more than a close bond of friendship and parenthood. The tip of her nose draws across your flushed skin, brushing through your drying tears as she nuzzles against you. Her breath is warm against your cheeks as she takes in the scent of your skin, kissing the ripples of your pil until her lips find yours. They’re soft and warm and she tastes of sweet juice. The kiss is fleeting and precious.

“Oel ngati kameie.” The words are whispered against her lips as she kisses you again. How long have you spent saying such words when you hadn’t truly seen what was right before your eyes. So many years wasted considering yourself an accessory to their bond when, in their minds, you had always been included. How much you have missed trying to live freely and save your heart the ache of abandonment when everything you could ever want was already within reach. Your fingers trace over the tattoo etched around the shape of her and curling high on her cheekbone. She hums quietly, eyes falling shut as she pulls you as close as her stomach will allow. The torch she lit is still burning but it gives you light to see her by as she falls asleep beneath your gentle touches. You resolve to speak with Tonowari when you wake, to try to mend the hole you’ve torn in your lives.

It’s easier said than done, though, because when the sun rises and Ronal with it you find yourself hesitant to approach Tonowari. Dawn turns to day and you find your hands busy in places the olo’eyktan would have no reason to be. By the time the sun has reached its peak in the sky you’re busying yourself in Tsireya’s shadow, assisting her in teaching the children. She seems grateful for the added guidance you can offer, never asking what possessed you to suddenly want to stay so close to the village when midday usually finds you far beyond the terraces, hunting or frolicking on some lesser traveled islands. Weaving is easier work than hunting, not as strenuous of a task, as you teach the younglings the different types of braids and knots that make their homes and clothing. When the sun begins to set the children scatter home and you realize the day has been wasted without you speaking a single word to Tonowari. Tsireya keeps up a pleasant conversation as the two of you straighten up the marui used for teaching, collecting dropped beads and setting aside the childrens’ weavings.

“Txa’ro shows a lot of promise, I think.” She hums happily. “She learned the arrowhead pattern quite quickly.” You nod, though your mind is far off. If any student showed any outstanding capability today you hardly noticed it. The whole day has passed in a haze like fog has settled before your eyes. Last night was like a dream, a short breath before the waves crashed over you once more. If your daughter is bothered by your uncharacteristic silence she doesn’t mention it, simply carrying the conversation herself as you follow her absently through the village only to stop once a familiar marui comes into view. It feels as though your feet are caught in mud, sucking you into the bouncing path as Tsireya continues on, happily chatting until she realizes you’re no longer beside her.

“Ma Sa’nok?” She reaches towards you, expecting that you’ll move to take her hand, and her face falls when you don’t. Both of you stand watching each other until finally Tsireya nods and says good night, finishing the trek home by herself. It pains you to see your daughter upset and distant but you can’t bring yourself to face her father. Not yet. Instead you go in the opposite direction with no destination in mind. You walk until you run out of woven paths and the air no longer carries the scent of dinners being made, until you reach the fringes of the village where the beach is deserted.

This isn’t how the day was meant to end but it ends all the same as you sit and watch Naranawm’s shadow swallow the sun. Soon the eclipse will break into deep night and you’ll return home without having shared a single word with Tonowari. So strange that is. There were once days when the two of you could be parted for only a few hours, for as long as chores demanded it and not a moment more. But that was when the children were young and needy for their parents’ attention. Now they’re old enough to deal with things on their own without your guidance. The sand is soft as you lay back to stare at the sky until it goes dark as your eyes drift shut. They don’t open again until you feel the sand shift beside you. It’s different than a rising tide swelling around you and you turn your head towards the disturbance.

Tonowari sits beside you, lit in deep shades of blue beneath the night sky. He isn’t looking at you yet. Instead his eyes are fixed in the far distance, on the dark silhouette of the seawall where the terrace pools are lit with rippling syuratan. When he finally looks at you his eyes are filled with a foreign sort of longing. It’s a strange expression to see on his face. Tonowari has never been known to put his desires before anything else, if anything his wants and needs can be forgotten and buried if it means peace and prosperity for the clan. His role as olo’eyktan is put before everything in his life. Every clan needs a leader and Tonowari and Ronal both uphold their roles with the utmost care, never straying from the path Eywa has set for them. Seeing him look so lost within himself would be mystifying if you didn’t know the cause of his clouded mind. It’s in the reflection of his blue eyes, the pattern of your glowing freckles appearing like aysnatanhì in his forlorn gaze. You’re the reason for this and it feels like a knife to your heart and you desperately want to heal the wounds you’ve caused.

“I’m sorry.” It isn’t enough but you say it anyway. Sorry is for stepping on someone’s tail or being too rough during training. It’s for small disagreements. Not something like this. Still you want to cling to the idea that what’s broken can be fixed with enough patience and attention. Tonowari seems to share the sentiment as he brushes the sand from your hair as you sit up, fingers tracing down your arm until he can bring your hand to his lips. It isn’t a kiss. Not truly. He presses his lips against your knuckles like he’s trying to see if you’re truly here before him. He seems soothed when you don’t turn to smoke before his eyes.

“Don’t.” He says before you can further embarrass yourself with meager words of atonement. “Don’t apologize.” Your heart sinks like a stone in your chest. Apologies are all you have to give. If he won’t accept them then perhaps this distance can never be bridged again.

“May I speak plainly?” You’ve never asked his permission to speak as bluntly as you do, but Tonowari is always considerate, even when it is undeserving. He takes a while to speak after you nod your acquiescence as if he’s weighing his words to see which will sit heaviest on your heart. Even in his anger he can find a moment to be kind.

“You’re the most difficult woman I’ve ever met.” He says at last. It doesn’t sting as much as you’d expect it to. It’s a sentiment you’ve heard your entire life. Too brash, too harsh, too willful. Of course people will find you difficult but it’s the first time Tonowari has said it so plainly.

“Ronal may not mind having to fight with you and wrangle you like an untamed beast, but I do. I only want to love you but you make it so hard for me. If I get too close you pull away. It feels like I am fighting to keep you by my side. And then you say–” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “You say you want another child and you don’t come to me for this. You flaunt yourself around the village as if I cannot give you what you’ve asked for. I can. I will. You just have to let me. That is all I want.”

“I didn’t know.” It’s hardly an excuse but it is the truth. Tonowari stiffens beside you, lips pressing into a firm line.

“Didn’t know?” He glowers, ears pulling back before he calms himself. “Then let me tell you so that you know. From today onward, paskalin, let there be no more confusion. I love you. As a husband loves his wife, I love you. I know you do not wish to be mated. I understand your heart. But you are my mate even still. You belong to me and I belong to you. Just as I belong to Ronal. Just as you belong to her. And if you want children I will give them to you. No one else.” He bares his teeth though there’s no one but you to see his show of possessive aggression.

It’s so strange to hear him want something so desperately. Tonowari has always done what is expected of him. For the good of the People he has always thought of the clan before himself. To hear him almost begging for this allowance to be selfish, it lights a fire inside you.

“I don’t care about them. Tayku and the rest,” Tonowari scowls at the sound of the boy’s name, “I never wanted them.”

“Then what do you want?” You’re reminded that beyond his duties as a leader, Tonowari is a warrior. He pulls you into his lap with great strength, one hand keeping your eyes on his as the other holds your waist.

“I want this.” You whisper. “I want you.”

His lips burn as they meet yours in a deep kiss, searing the promise you’ve made into your memory. The night air is warm but you shiver as Tonowari’s hands trace across your skin. It’s been so long since you’ve been this close with him and it overwhelms you as he pulls you tight against him and whispers sweet promises over your parted lips. You whine as his fangs nip over your neck, tongue tracing the shape of your tattoos until he finally settles against your chest. He noses at the delicate shells of your draping top, breath puffing against your heated skin. His blunt nails drag down your exposed back to your hips, pulling you harder against him. His intentions are clear and you’re more than happy to comply as he toys with the knots keeping you covered. You’re far enough from the village that no one will stumble upon the two of you as he lays you bare beneath the stars.

The hardest part passes with the rising of the sun but there is still work to be done before things can truly be as they should between the three of you. Hunting is strenuous but there is always more to do after the beast is slain and prayers are said in its honor. There is cleaning, skinning, cutting, cooking, and preserving even after that. The hunt is not over until even the bones of the animal are put to some use. The renewed and deepened intimacy with the olo’eyktan and tsahìk is hardly enough to heal the pain amassed over many years. A wound needs to be tended not ignored lest it bleed you dry. It was nearing that point, would’ve surely reached it had you gone through with letting another man father your newest child. The strained bond would’ve been shattered to splinters beyond salvaging but as it stands you can manage to slowly place the pieces back together.

It is a slow walk to where you want to be, but each step brings all of you closer. At first it’s only small things; Ronal stealing kisses in secluded places and Tonowari lingering near you far more than necessary. They’re more protective now as if they’re worried someone will come along to trample on your budding affections. It’s all new to you, this deeper sort of courtship as you’ve never allowed anyone to go beyond the point of flattery and gifts. The fierce loyalty is to be expected. In truth you’ve never been loyal to anyone besides them. Even before your confessions and admissions of love you never bothered to be closer than friends with anyone. To be doted on so openly soothes the bruised piece of your heart still agonizing over being left behind if they grow tired of you. In so many years their feelings have remained unflinching for each other, and for you. It’s a nagging feeling you wish to starve out of your mind. Eywa has graced you with two people you adore and who love you with equal fervor in return. Tsaheylu or not the three of you have been mated since you laid with Tonowari beneath the night sky.

Things have finally fallen back into place. Ronal still bites back at every curt remark you make and Tonowari still worries anytime you’re too far from home. But there is no more edge of awkwardness as you hesitate to kiss Tonowari or lean against Ronal. Bashfulness is unneeded when they revel in your tentative touches. Their affections manifest differently, Ronal being more subtle as Tonowari is more boastful, but you learn to balance yourself between the two of them. Ronal won’t ask for a kiss. She will simply stare at your lips until you offer one. Tonowari acts instinctually, wrapping you in his arms the moment the desire rises. It swirls new rumors of the clan leaders’ mate though many simply laugh over how long it’s taken you to accept the title they all called you in secret. It dizzies your head to know that it had been only you standing in the way of your happiness, clawing and hissing when no one meant to harm you. How foolish you’d been to run from your feelings when they were so plainly reciprocated. All that pain suffered and inflicted with no reason for it. The thought weighs heavy on your heart, ears lowering as you mull over your work.

“Enough.” Ronal says just as quickly as the regret begins to creep in. The energy of the air has surely shifted as your soul sinks into a dark place and your tsahìk is quick to catch it. She’s irritable in the last months of her own pregnancy, more easily disturbed by small things.

“Come here.” She makes room on the hammock she’s sitting in expecting that you’ll join her without protest. Of course you do, dropping what you’d been doing to sit beside her. The squid can wait. You’ve harvested enough of their ink for the moment though the one in your hand clings defiantly, little tentacles winding around your fingers as you try to drop into the bowl with the others. Ronal makes a face as she watches you gently peel the creature from your hand. Despite their necessity for the tradition of tattooing, she’s always found squids to be unpleasant. Something about their wriggling legs unsettling her. It’s an amusing distaste she has considering how many times you’ve reminded her their legs are more similar to the sinuous nerves of a kuru, but she won’t have it. You press a kiss to her temple as you sit to offer penance for bringing the creatures near her.

She hums and goes back to her sewing, stitching delicate beads into the intricate weaving of a new top. Idly you flex your leg, gently rocking the hammock as you bury your foot in the sand. The day has gone by with a harmonious sort of stillness as the clan spent the heat of the day on menial tasks. Despite the more secluded area you find yourself in you can still hear the soft din of voices; work songs and gossip and children shrieking happily as they splash in the waves. You rest a hand on your stomach. Enough time has passed for you to be showing. Tonowari has been pleased since Ronal first confirmed the news, hands constantly brushing over your stomach even when you looked no larger than you had before. Now he’s weak with anticipation for their first stirring. You can already hear the words on his tongue as the olo’eyktan appears down the beach, smiling happily at the sight of his mates cocooned together.

“Oh.” Before he can ask there’s a sudden fluttering in your stomach, light and quick like the feeling of a fish swimming past you.

“Oh?” Ronal asks, setting aside her sewing. Your hand presses lightly against the place you felt the burst of movement.

“Are they moving?” Tonowari asks excitedly, already kneeling before you. His hand trails up your calf to settle on your knee, blue eyes imploring as you stare blankly in wait for another flutter. It comes again and you laugh at the strangely ticklish feelings, pulling his hand from your knee to press against your stomach.

“Did you feel it?” You ask when the baby moves again. Your child is strong, moving with great vigor. It isn’t always a pleasant feeling as you remember the bouts of sickness Ketsräno raised while he twisted and kicked inside you, but this is the first of the new baby’s movements and they’re hardly enough to disturb you. Tonowari nods though his eyes stay trained on your belly. Ronal’s hand pushes in beside her husband’s, fingers overlapping with your own as you guide Tonowari’s hand to where the kicks are strongest. She’s shared in your toiling of carrying a child, knows that it won’t always be this easy, but for the moment neither of you mention it. Instead she presses a kiss to your cheek, your nose, landing one on your lips when you turn towards her amorous mouth. Tonowari catches your lips soon after, hand still pressed against your stomach. He doesn’t go far as he pulls away.

Instead he wraps his hands around your waist, lifting you from your seat to twirl you in a circle. There are no words for what he’s feeling because all that falls from his lips are sounds of pure elation. Laughter, as deep and rolling as the ocean fills the alcove as he dances with you. Ronal watches the two of you for a moment before smiling herself and standing to join. Your heart swells near to bursting as you realize this is what you would’ve missed had the storm of distance and anger never torn through your life. You’ve made something better of what remained when the rain gave way to sunlight. This is what you tried to deprive yourself of with your rash overthinking. You’ll never be so presumptuous again. Not when Tonowari and Ronal renew their vows to you with each passing breath. Paskalin, tìyawn, muntxate. They don’t let you forget their love for even a moment and you’ll dedicate your life to returning it a thousand times over.

ɴᴀ’ᴠɪ ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs

Lorpaytsyal – chandelier fish

Syuratan – bioluminescence

Txampaysye – gill mantle

Tanhì – bioluminescent freckles, star

Parultsyìp – little miracle, term of endearment for a child

Sempul – father

Hì’ikran – dorado verde, small ikran (speculative)

Nawmtu – great person (honorific)

Pil – facial stripes, skin stripes

Naranawm – Polyphemus, the planet Pandora orbits

Skxawng – moron

Oìsss – angry snarl, watch it!

Paskalin – sweet berry (term of endearment)

Tswin, Kuru – neural braid

First Breath – Metkayina birth ritual

Vitra – soul

Nga yawne lu oer – I love you

Aysnatanhì – constellations

Tìyawn – love (term of endearment)

Muntxate – wife, female mate

#tonowari x reader #ronal x reader #tonowari x reader x ronal #avatar x reader #atwow #avatar

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angelwings-crossbowstrings · 7 months

Text

The World Keeps Getting Hotter, Baby, but I’m Too Cool to Die

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x Fem!Reader

Setting: Pre-series; The Line-Up; Whisperers Arc

Warnings: Domestic violence; Child abuse; Injuries; Blood; Allusions to alcoholism; Mentions of canonical character death

Summary: Three times Daryl didn’t fear death and the one time he did.

gif by @jaaryl

Daryl had honestly never feared death. Sometimes, he felt it would even come as a reprieve from a life that had taken such a toll on every aspect of his very being. He had seldom wished for it, mostly as a child who didn’t understand the permanence. He wanted to follow his mama, who often took the beatings meant for him.

Even in her near constant drunken stupors, she would reach for him from the bed, fresh blood and bruises still adorning her pale skin. C’mere, baby. It’s okay. When she died and Merle ran, Daryl faced their father’s wrath alone.

“Worthless, bitch-ass mama’s boy.” The rough leather of the well worn belt was a follow up sting to the skin-tearing agony of the metal buckle. “Gon’ toughen ya up. Won’t have no pussy Dixon livin’ in my house.”

Daryl just laid there, watching the new flecks of crimson fall in sporadic splatterings on the dirty wooden floor. He circled the thought of his mother reaching for him, shushing and soothing in her slurred voice. It was almost enough to numb the angry wounds long after the onslaught was over.

“I'll find ya, mama. We can run away together.”

He wasn’t a stranger to motorcycles. Merle had taken him down the backroads, no destination in mind. The elder Dixon had been working on obtaining his license but was already a skilled rider.

He’d show up at the most opportune moments, almost like he was listening for the old man to pass out drunk. Daryl was older then, early teens making things more confusing as he went through changes he didn’t understand. He’d never speak them aloud for fear of invoking his father’s rage or his brother’s ridicule. He kept quiet and waited excitedly for the times his brother would offer him peace on the open road.

Merle hadn’t noticed the pine needles on the wet asphalt until it was too late.

Daryl could only remember bits and pieces. His brother’s distorted face and muffled voice. Keep them eyes open, boy! The younger man found he didn’t care to oblige. Maybe if he closed his bright blues, he’d wake up in a different life. Loving parents, good grades, a house in the suburbs complete with a dog that was always happy to see him.

He was actually disappointed when he woke up in the hospital, broken arm and severe concussion, his body throbbing.

Merle was already gone again. An officer took him home where Will Dixon broke the cast within an hour and twisted the skin above the break.

Daryl missed his brother.

It was his fault Glenn had died. Maybe Abraham should be on his conscience as well. If he’d never stormed off, half-cocked and hell bent, they would have all been there to make sure the group made it to Hilltop. The line up would have never happened because all the best fighters would have been together, functioning as a well oiled machine to plow the Saviors down.

But Daryl had to be stubborn. He had to do things his way. And now Abraham and Glenn were dead, Maggie was a widow, and her baby would never know their father.

He was losing blood. The wound was through and through, steadily freeing his lifeblood without medical intervention. As the van bounced and jarred over the rough gravel, the archer hissed and sluggishly pressed a hand over the weeping hole so close to his collarbone. Yet the blood on his hands wasn’t his. It was Glenn’s.

His vision was graying at the edges, his skin colder without the blanket that had been left on the rough ground where his family mourned. They likely spit on the fabric, the only thing among them that had been somewhat his. Even if he lived, he could never go back and face their anger.

His breaths came slower, more shallow. He was growing numb and exhaustion had him giving in to the urge to close his eyes.

If there was a god, maybe he’d see fit to take Daryl and toss him into hell in exchange for Glenn being returned to Maggie.

He’d lost you. The cave had collapsed and you had been swallowed by the dust and debris. It had been suggested there were other ways out, that maybe you had escaped after all. Only to go back to Alexandria or Hilltop, to reunite with Kelly, Yumiko, and Luke while discovering Daryl had gone off on his own—again—and let rage drive him.

He was stupid to think he could coerce Alpha into revealing anything that might benefit him or aid in your rescue. He’d been reckless and now he was paying for it. Blood was no longer spurting from the wound in his thigh, the veins having long ago slowed the gush when his heartrate began to decelerate.

He was gonna die there, bleed out and never know if you were safe. For the first time, he found he didn’t want to go. You, arriving with Magna and her group, had charmed your way right past his defenses and straight into his heart. He had been a lovesick fool, grasping the unfamiliar feeling with both hands until his knuckles turned white.

You were completely and utterly transparent in your reciprocation, doting over his injuries and ensuring he took care of himself. You were glued to his side, throwing yourself into the fray when anything could possibly pose a threat to him, much to his displeasure. You were sweet as honey, but stubborn as an ox. Fierce and loyal, downright lethal when someone you loved was threatened.

And you loved him. Of all the people left in the world, you had chosen him.

And he didn’t want to let go. He didn’t want to escape the pain. He didn’t care to see Merle again yet or run into his mama’s arms. He had longed to hear the innocence in Beth’s singing that he’d failed to protect, but found that it wasn’t as important as what he had there, in life.

He actually had a life. He could settle down with you, even if he couldn’t promise you complete safety and peace. You were still young enough for children if you wanted them, and he’d never deny you that even if he felt he’d be a shit father. He wanted to go home to you at the end of the day and let you whisper away the stress he couldn’t leave outside the door. He wanted to hold you, kiss you, touch you, love you.

He didn’t want to die not knowing if you were alive and that those things were possible.

He wheezed, forced to blink hard to battle against his eyes’ will to close. He was cold. He no longer felt the pain of the wound.

He wasn’t ready anymore. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to risk leaving you. He didn’t want to die.

“Daryl.”

The archer gasped, summoning all the strength he had left to slide his eyes toward where the sun was now beaming into the cold garage.

There you were, carrying the light behind you like a pair of wings. Like his vest, but bright and beautiful. He could make out your face as you lowered to hover above him. Your hand was warm against his cheek, it felt near scalding pressed to his chilled skin.

“You’re alive.” He managed in a rough whisper. Even with your features vibrating, he could see that beautiful smile. “M’dyin’, Sunshine. Don’t wanna go.” Someone was working on his leg but he couldn’t be bothered to check or even ask. Your lips pressed against his blood streaked forehead.

“You’re not going anywhere. Not today.” Daryl sighed. He believed you. It was always so easy to do, but he could tell you weren’t placating. “You’re too cool for that.”

He was going to live and he was going to love you right.

#murda writes #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #the walking dead #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl x female reader #daryl dixon the walking dead #daryl twd #daryl dixon twd #daryl fanfiction #Spotify

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flowerandblood · 4 months

Text

The Song of Loneliness

The Fall from The Heavens Universe Chapter

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: masturbation, sexual tension, smut, angst, trauma related to sexual experiences and their description, sexual experience of a minor (brothel), manipulation, swearing, description of discomfort associated with menstruation ]

[ description: The events that took place between the beginning and the end of chapter two of The Fall from the Heavens, i.e. the memories of Aemond and Rhaenys as children and later, just before their reunion after many years. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other works: Masterlist

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Rhaenys ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"Where are we going?" He asked uncertainly, seeing her excited face, which meant she had a plan in her mind that he might not like. Her lips curved into a wide, happy smile at the thought.

"To the Dragon's Pit." She explained, and her uncle froze in half-motion and stopped.

"I don't want to." He replied coldly.

She looked at him in surprise, seeing his discouraged, distant gaze, his jaw clenched in discomfort.

"Don't you trust me?" She asked softly, bestowing on him a comforting, warm smile, meant to add credibility to her attitude. Her betrothed swallowed hard and hesitated, pressing his lips into a thin line.

"– I – well – I do –" He muttered finally, defeated.

Although she tried to converse with him on various light topics that usually aroused his interest, such as their lineage or history, her uncle remained sullen and silent, gazing indifferently out the window of the carriage that had taken them from the Red Keep to their destination.

When they stepped outside, the dragon guardians were already waiting for them, assuring her that everything was ready.

Larax squirmed with joy at the sight of her, the sound she made reminding her of the squeal of a small child – she was still quite tiny, her silver-blue scales shining as she swept her wings, hopping in place as if to show her how happy she was to see her.

She was like a puppy that could breathe fire.

Her uncle seemed shocked – he walked a few steps behind her, aloof but intrigued at the same time. Her dragoness, although wearing a long chain around her neck, had quite a lot of freedom of movement and came running to her as soon as she knelt down in front of her, cuddling her head into her breast. She lifted her gaze to her betrothed, smiling.

"Marriage is sharing everything, becoming one. This means that Larax belongs to you from now on as well, and I wanted you to get acquainted." She said excitedly.

Her uncle swallowed hard, clearly shocked, his lips twitching in a shy smile of disbelief, from which heat filled her heart.

He knelt down beside her, but stepped back immediately, frightened as Larax hissed, in her dragon mind defending her from the strange intruder.

"Daor, Larax! Lykiri! Lykiri." She called out, stroking her back reassuringly, wanting her to understand that they were in no danger.

"– give me your hand –" She said softly, extending her palm to him. Her uncle allowed her to take his fingers in hers, and after a moment, keeping them entwined together, she placed his hand on her head.

Feeling the familiar and unfamiliar scent at the same time, Larax froze, breathing anxiously, as if wondering how she should react. She could hear her uncle's heavy, excited breath behind her as she began to stroke her scales with his palm in soft, slow movements.

Larax calmed down after a moment, recognising that, indeed, the small creature that accompanied her rider was no threat to them. She laid her head on her thigh, gazing at the strange newcomer, and she let go of his hand, allowing him to touch her alone.

Her betrothed leaned slightly over her shoulder to get a better look at her dragoness, keeping a safe distance, however, so as not to provoke her.

"– what do you think of her? –" She asked lightly.

Her uncle was silent for a long moment, stunned.

"– she is beautiful –"

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Aemond ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"A man should not run after a woman, Your Grace. It's a sign of desperation and weakness not befitting your position." Criston Cole said to him coolly, taking him aside after one of their trainings in the courtyard.

He had hurt her by not letting her kiss his cheek in the presence of the others and he just wanted to fix that, make her smile again.

He swallowed hard, feeling a wave of shame and discomfort fill his lower abdomen at his harsh words and impatient gaze.

"– she's good to me – I just didn't want her to be sad – we're betrothed –" He muttered, looking at the ground beneath his feet, embarrassed by this conversation.

Cristone Cole looked away and shook his head, as if he didn't believe what he was hearing.

"– it's just appearances, my Prince – her mother wants her to manipulate you and push you away from your brother and your family –" He replied dryly, and his words left him stunned.

"– she had never –"

"– only a naïve man allows a woman to rule over his mind – keep your dignity and do not allow her into your heart as anyone other than the mother of your future children –"

For some reason, his words and their overtones hurt him deeply and he himself did not know what he should do, what was expected of him.

The septon had always told him that a good husband looks out for the safety and well-being of his wife, listens to her, and sometimes allows himself to be weak in her arms in order to experience relief.

He said that if his wife reciprocates his endeavours, their marriage will be peaceful and successful.

Indeed, by following these rules and observing her efforts towards him, he felt a pleasant contentment and satisfaction. His niece did not impose on him or order him to change his habits, just as he did not require her to do so.

What's more, she supported him every step of the way in his daily duties, and in moments of sadness or fear, which he refused to admit out loud, she allowed him to take refuge in the warm embrace of her soft arms.

The thought that he should reject all this and build a wall between them seemed to him, despite all his doubts, inappropriate and hurtful to her when she was trying so hard to make him content.

He decided that when she came to his chamber at night he would tell her not to do it again and send her away.

She, as soon as she crossed the threshold of his quarters, ran to his bed and jumped onto the sheets, hiding under the soft, warm furs at his side, sighing in relief, immediately snuggling into his body. He swallowed hard, feeling a pleasant shiver run down his spine, and thought they could lie like that for a while before he told her of his decision.

"– I am grateful to you for being so good to me –" She whispered, lifting her head, wanting to look at him. He nodded, not embracing her as was his usual habit, looking dully ahead. She raised herself on her arm, seeing his complete lack of reaction at her words, frowning.

"– uncle? – is something bothering you? – you can tell me –" She added immediately, moving closer to him, leaning over his face – her eyes were shining in the darkness of his chamber, her dark brows arched in sadness and worry at his condition.

He swallowed hard, looking at her with his lips parted, his hand involuntarily touching her cheek.

It was soft and warm.

Do not come here again.

He thought that phrase in his head, but instead his hand forced her to lean in, her moist, puffy lips pressed against his in a soft, soothing kiss.

He could feel his heart pounding fast, how hot he was with excitement, how his whole body screamed that this was what he wanted, this was what he needed.

Her, as close as possible.

He hugged her to his chest, pressing her face to his neck, and closed his eyes.

"– it's nothing –"

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Rhaenys ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"I would like to discuss with you… a delicate matter." Said her mother, sitting down next to her a few months after the King had announced her betrothal to her uncle. She nodded, sensing that she was about to hear something important.

"I want you to understand that your nuptials with Alicent's son and what they entail will not take place until you reach the age of fourteen." She said slowly, as if she wanted her daughter to understand exactly every word she spoke.

She nodded her head slowly, looking at her with big eyes, pressing her lips together in some kind of disappointment.

"Why do I have to wait so long?" She asked uncertainly – her mother twisted restlessly in her chair, placing her hand over hers.

"My love, Aegon… from what I've heard, I know he likes the company of girls. That he likes to touch them in places that only a husband can touch his wife. I wanted to ask if his brother, and your betrothed, is also trying…" She did not finish, clearly not knowing how to put into words what she wanted to convey to her.

She cocked her head, curious, understanding after a moment what she meant.

"– does my uncle slip his hand under my nightgown? –" She asked lightly, her mother squeezed her hand tighter at her words, turning pale.

"– yes – yes, my love –"

She shook her head quickly, and Rhaenyra sighed in relief, clenching her eyes.

"– no – but sometimes, when we're alone and we're happy, our lips meet –" She muttered, embarrassed, swinging her legs sitting on a chair that was too high for her.

Her mother laughed under her breath.

"– I see –"

"– is it a sin? – can I expect his child because of this? –" She mumbled out quickly, choking out what she had wanted to ask her for a long time, terrified of the disgrace she would bring upon her betrothed if it turned out that she was carrying his illegitimate offspring.

Rhaenyra burst out laughing, shaking her head, her hand stroking her hair affectionately.

"– no, my love – it is merely a tender expression of affection that can be shared with one's betrothed –" Her mother replied calmly, and she smiled broadly, comforted and reassured, thinking that she would place many warm, sweet kisses on her betrothed's lips that evening.

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Aemond ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"– no – forgive me, Princess, but it is impossible – your request is unworthy of a lady –" He heard Criston Cole's voice directed towards his betrothed as he stepped out into the courtyard as he did every morning – he escorted her away with a surprised, uneasy look as she nodded her head and walked away, without bestowing even a single warm word on him, as was her custom.

He did not dare to ask Ser Criston what she was requesting; he found out later, when, concerned by her absence in the library, he paid her a visit in her chamber.

She was lying on her bed, her face red from the tears she had surely shed immediately after their brief exchange of words – she was no longer crying now, but her eyebrows arched in pain when he asked her what had happened.

"– my mother gave me a dagger so I could defend myself when I am alone – but what good is it to me if I can't use it? – I wanted Ser Criston to teach me how to hold it – I wanted to be like your Visenya –" She confessed sadly, her last words like a mumble, her eyes flooded with tears again as she burst into sobs.

He stared at her with wide eyes, not knowing completely what to say or think about her unusual request.

She was a woman and the image of her holding a weapon seemed unnecessary and ridiculous to him, however, her words planted a seed of uncertainty in his heart.

What if someone harms her in his absence?

Threaten her life?

Once he was her husband, he thought, he would be her protector by day and night, but until they were married, he could not fulfil that role.

He left her chamber, making her think for certain that he now despised her as well, he, however, returned a moment later with a small straw target in the shape of a man with spots marked on his body. His niece rose on her hands, looking at him with big eyes as the door closed behind him.

"– come here – I will teach you the basics –" He muttered lowly, serious, feeling a pleasant satisfaction at the thought that he would now be her teacher and she would have to obey him.

His betrothed beamed all over, a light, sweet giggle left her lips that made him hot.

"– turn your back on me –" She ordered cheerfully.

"– why? –" He asked.

"– my dagger is hidden only in a place known to me – not even you can know where it is –" She said in an unobjectionable voice – he sighed and rolled his eyes, turning away reluctantly, impatient.

He heard a creak and a quiet rustling, and a moment later his niece was standing beside him with a beautiful short dagger created from Valyrian steel, with a handle in the shape of a dragon's tail, holding it as if she were wielding an axe.

"– you're holding it the wrong way – lower it so that the blade is in horizontal position – yes, just like that –" He praised her as he grabbed her wrist and forced her to lower her arm. She nodded, apparently writing down in her head this important remark.

"– the main rule is: don't cut as if you have a sword, because your opponent will grab your wrist and snatch your weapon away – just stab – at your height, preferably in the stomach or thighs, right here –" He said, demonstrating the move she should make by pretending as if he had the weapon, hitting the spots he mentioned with the front of his clenched fist.

He stepped back and watched with wide-open eyes as his niece, with an expression of great fierceness and anger, began to stab the hay puppet, as if she actually imagined that it was someone who wanted to harm her.

"– enough – enough, surely it's already dead –" He muttered, pulling her away, looking at her in disbelief, thinking that with such a commitment perhaps she would even be able to wield a sword.

"– did I do it well, uncle? –" She asked excitedly, curls of her hair stuck to her cheeks red with emotion.

"– yes – very well –"

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Rhaenys ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

After her uncle lost an eye and her mother remarried, they stopped visiting the Red Keep. Her betrothed, to her despair, did not write back to her first letter or the many that followed, in which she asked him about his health and when she would be able to see him again.

Accustomed to his daily presence, despite being surrounded by her siblings, she felt lonely. Her bed was cold and empty without his warm body beside her, without his tender hand to stroke her head as she fearfully awoke again and again from a terrible nightmares.

One morning she woke up feeling discomfort between her thighs. She moved higher, wanting to look at the liquid that covered her skin and screamed involuntarily when she saw it was blood.

Her mother, as soon as she found out, came to reassure her.

"Do you remember our conversation when I told you that a woman blooms like a flower? This is what has just happened. It means you will be able to give your future husband children." Said her mother, covering her tightly with furs, already lying in a clean nightgown and smallclothes to prevent her from dirtying the bedding again.

She nodded, and as soon as Rhaenyra left, she broke into tears.

Although it was supposed to be an uplifting moment, it wasn't at all – she felt discomfort and contractions in her lower abdomen, she didn't have the strength to get out of bed, and she felt blood flowing again and again from between her thighs.

She thought it was a disgusting feeling, and she felt even worse at the thought that it meant she would soon be ready to get married.

Her betrothed didn't want her, and her mother began to speak more and more boldly about her possible nuptials with her cousin.

She closed her eyes at this thought and swallowed hard, holding back the tears of regret that were again pushing against her eyelids.

That day she took out the parchment and quill again, thinking in the back of her mind that even if he threw her letters into the fire and didn't read them, she needed to confide in someone and she wanted it to be him.

She began to write, for the first time not thinking about the content of what she had to communicate, letting her thoughts flow.

Today, something terrible happened, and although I know these things don't concern you or may even cause you disgust, I can't confide in anyone else about my suffering. My bloody flower has blossomed. My mother says that I have now become a woman, but I feel nothing of the sort. I feel dirty, I feel pain, I feel ashamed. I don't want to be a woman. I don't want to be a wife. I don't want to be a mother.

She cried out loud as she wrote the last sentence and rolled the parchment up, ordering it to be sent to King's Landing into the hands of the Prince before she could change her mind.

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Aemond ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

To his surprise, despite not answering her, he would find her letters waiting for him, lying on the top of his table exactly every two months.

At first he never wanted to read them – he even thought about throwing them into the fire, but then curiosity won out and he would sit down in front of the fireplace, unrolling the parchment.

He read what she had written, imagining her voice, that she stood behind him and whispered it all in his ear, embracing him, confiding in him.

He felt a squeeze in his heart, feeling the suffering behind every letter she wrote down for him, her expression of longing and sadness, loneliness and loss.

He himself was more lost than ever.

His brother surprised him when, on his Name Day, when he turned exactly thirteen, he announced to him that it was time to get it wet.

He did not understand what he meant.

It was only when he led him under cover of darkness to one of the buildings he had evidently visited himself that he noticed with embarrassment the curves of the half-naked women they passed, whom Aegon evidently knew, greeting them along the way.

"– we should not be here – our mother –" He muttered, but his brother shushed him.

"– shut your mouth, mummy's boy – today you will become a man –" He hissed, tapping his index finger against his forehead, as if to show him that he was a fool, a silly little boy.

He clenched his jaw in rage at the thought, recognising that, indeed, he was already a grown man.

Or at least he thought he was.

The woman he took him to was pretty, but much older than him.

He thought she could be their mother.

When Aegon left them alone he did not know what to do with himself – he felt both excitement and embarrassment at the same time, not really knowing whether he wanted it or not.

Aegon said that laying with a woman was very pleasant and gave a feeling of immense relief.

He wanted to feel relief.

The woman reached out to him encouragingly, telling him not to be ashamed, to lie comfortably on the bed and let her take care of himself.

He didn't know what she meant, but decided that since she was more experienced, he should listen to her.

The feeling of being inside her was terrifyingly foreign and uncomfortable – he swallowed hard, looking wide-eyed at her stomach, afraid to look at her face, clenching his hands into fists on the sheets.

She has never touched me like this, he thought.

Rhaenys had never touched me like this.

He was furious with himself, but he felt tears burning under his eyelids at the thought, and though he pressed his lips together, one by one they ran down the sides of his face.

"– no –" He muttered and shook his head. "– not like this –"

The woman understood vaguely what he meant, an expression of sympathy on her face from which he felt discomfort in his stomach and throat.

"– Prince Aegon paid me for your fulfilment –"

It wasn't until a few years later that he realised he wasn't even completely hard at the time – that effect was only achieved when she climbed off him and took his manhood in her hand, squeezing it up and down until his warm seed leaked out.

He felt relief, but not the kind he wanted.

In fact, he felt even worse than before.

What would she say if she saw this?

She would be disgusted with me, he thought and cried out loud, walking back to the Red Keep alone, not waiting for Aegon to finish whatever it was he was doing with those girls.

He didn't want to think about it, didn't want to know about it.

When he returned to his chamber, he took out all the letters she had sent him over the years and placed them beside him on his bed. He closed his eyes and was only relieved when he realised that they had soaked up her scent.

The smell of vanilla.

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Rhaenys ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

One day she woke up, breathing fast, feeling a pleasant heat and tickling in her lower abdomen. She dreamt that her uncle had flown to Dragonstone and spent the night with her despite her cries and pleas.

She didn't know what exactly could happen during this act, not being aware of all the details, but she knew that he would put the part of his body that was in his breeches between her thighs to fill her with his seed.

In the dream, his hot, wet lips clung to hers in greedy, possessive kisses, his breath heavy as his broad hands roamed all over her body, squeezing her breasts and buttocks, until he finally forced his way inside her with the sudden, sharp thrust of his hips.

In her sleep, she felt no pain – moreover, his deep, quick pushes and his low groans of pleasure made the space between her thighs swell and pulsate, making her feel tense and uncomfortable as soon as she awoke, drenched in sweat.

She closed her eyes, feeling on the one hand relieved and on the other disappointed that this was not true – the worst part, however, was that the unpleasant, almost painful tickling sensation between her thighs did not go away.

She decided to check with her hand what this place was, what would happen if she touched it.

She tentatively lifted the material of her nightgown and traveled down between her warm thighs – a quiet sigh escaped her lips as her soft fingers stroked her moist, fleshy folds, all leaking and sticky.

She felt a pleasant shiver run along her spine and some kind of tingle deep inside her, her nipples and lips puffy with desire.

She tilted her head back and closed her eyes, digging her fingertips deeper into her soft skin – she shuddered and sighed as she touched the small, swollen bud between her folds – surprised, she found that when she touched it directly, it felt almost painful, but as she began to gently press and rub the area around it, a wonderful wave of heat began to rise in her lower abdomen.

Her breath became heavy as she imagined it was his hand touching her as he came back for her, whispering that he had wanted to do this to her for a long time, that he thought only of her, that he would now take her for himself.

She imagined his hot lips clinging to hers, his fingers sliding deep inside her, wanting to feel her, and she threw her head back with a quiet, surprised moan, feeling a sudden, wonderful relief.

She swallowed hard, realising after a moment that it was her own fingers that had slipped deep into her tight slit, her hot, moist walls clenching around them again and again together with waves of delicious pleasure surging through her whole body.

She stared dully ahead, panting loudly, feeling that as soon as the wonderful sensation passed, a complete and terrifying emptiness filled her heart and mind.

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Aemond ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

After what had happened in the brothel, he would not allow himself to be touched this way by any woman. He told himself that he simply didn't want to experience a similar humiliation, to cry at the thought that the one he fucked wasn't the one he dreamed of at night, but the truth was that even if he wanted to, he couldn't get fully aroused by the sight of another woman.

Even as he watched his servants bustling around his chamber, preparing his morning meal, looking at their pleasingly girlish shapes, their breasts and hips, his musings always fled to one thought.

Was this what her body looked like now?

Blossomed like a flower, full of grace and soft, feminine shapes?

He imagined that her bare skin would be soft as silk under the touch of his rough hand, that she would be obscenely warm, quivering with desire under his body. He imagined her breasts, plump and swollen, filling his palm perfectly, her little nipples that he would like to lick with his tongue.

He pressed his lips together, always feeling the same thing – his manhood swelling painfully and twitching in his breeches, causing him discomfort on the verge of pain.

It ended the same way each time – as soon as he was left alone in his chamber, instead of concentrating on his food, he quickly untied the material and slid his hand under it, grasping his half-hard, throbbing erection.

He began to squeeze it gently, merely teasing it, pressing his lips together, suppressing the shuddering moan of delight that wanted to burst from his throat at the thought that it was her fingers caressing him so wonderfully tenderly, it was her lips whispering that they didn't have to hurry.

He mumbled the name he'd given her himself in his head, feeling the tears welling under his eyelids, thinking with pain how much he missed her, that deep down he didn't loathe her, that all he desired was for her to return.

"– Rhaenys –" He cried out, tears running down his cheeks as his warm seed spilled over his fingers, relief, pleasure and pain surging through his loins at the same time, shaking his body.

He stared at his empty silver plate, panting heavily and pressed his lips together, furious and bitter, then burst out into silent sobs like a small child.

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Rhaenys ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"– it has come to my knowledge that Alicent has decided to make a pact with Borros Baratheon – she wants Prince Aemond to marry one of his daughters –" Her mother said during one of their suppers together in Dragonstone; she froze, feeling her heart stop in her throat, a cold, unpleasant shiver running down her spine as she raised her gaze to her.

"– we cannot leave this unanswered – after consulting with Daemon, we have together decided that you should marry the son of my dear cousin, Lord Arryn –" She added, taking one of the platters from her husband.

Daemon, seated next to her mother, gave her a quick look in which she seemed to catch a glimpse of sympathy.

She lowered her gaze, feeling her whole body involuntarily begin to tremble, tears of despair and disbelief gathered under her eyelids. She felt Baela's hand on hers, but she pulled away from her and got up from the table, leaving the chamber, bursting into sobs as soon as she ran out into the corridor.

Although she covered her mouth with her hand, she was unable to stop the moans that ripped from her throat or what she saw in her mind.

Him, lying on top of another woman, touching her naked body, whispering in the ear of Lord Baratheon's daughter that she was more beautiful than his niece, that he loved her more deeply than he had ever loved her.

She locked herself in her chamber, wishing to be alone.

She knew Daemon would come to her.

He always came.

As she lay on the bed, staring blankly at the wall in the distance, her father sat by the fireplace, staring thoughtfully into the flames, playing with the ring on his little finger.

"– your mother is doing this for your own good – she couldn't leave this insult unanswered –" He said coldly and maliciously, as if he was impatient with the fact that she was pitying herself.

She did not answer him.

She heard him sigh heavily, tightening his fingers on the base of his nose, bowing his head as if he had no strength for this conversation.

"– my spies in the Red Keep say that he has changed beyond recognition – that he is a cold, cruel man – that he calls you a little whore –" He said indifferently, and she felt a squeeze in her throat, tears of humiliation and pain one by one began to flow down her face.

"– give up your dreams of a man who has already disrespected you for years – his feelings for you have disappeared along with his fucking eye –"

- ✦ - ✦ - ✦ Aemond ✦ - ✦ - ✦ -

"– have you heard the word from Dragonstone, brother? –" Aegon asked him during one of the suppers, his brother's mind and sight already a tad clouded by the wine he so adored.

He threw him a brief, discouraged glance, their mother twisting restlessly in her chair.

"– Aegon –"

"– your would-be betrothed will soon become the Lady of the Eyrie, and her cousin will be given the honour of putting his little cock inside her –" He sneered, and he felt his jaw and hands clench, a shiver of discomfort, horror and humiliation running along his back at the very thought.

"– enough –" Their mother said.

"– why? – after all, my little brother no longer holds any affection towards her – am I wrong, brother? – what did you call her before she became a little whore in your eyes? – let me think – ah, I remember – Rhaenys –"

He stood up from the table, feeling his heart begin to pound like mad, a sea of memories filled with her surging through his mind making him feel as if he had begun to suffocate.

He heard Aegon chuckle behind him as he left the room panting with rage, bursting into his chamber with a loud slamming of the door.

He opened the drawer with his key and slid it out with an aggressive gesture, pulling out all the letters he had received from her over the years and holding them in his trembling hands, he stopped in front of the fire.

He stared at the flames, hearing himself breathe heavily, droplets of cold sweat running down his back at the memory of what his brother had said.

Your would-be betrothed will soon become the Lady of the Eyrie.

He pressed his lips together, crushing the letters in his hands, and drew in the air loudly, feeling with shame that he felt like bursting into tears. He sat down on the floor, leaning over and laid his forehead on his knees, hugging her letters, her words to him, to his heart.

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riddlesb1tch · 2 months

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Carved In Love

Liam Mairi x reader

summary: you and Liam have been dating for a year now and one night after sex, Liam admits something he thinks about that makes you fall in love even more.

warnings: TOOTH ROTTING FLUFF!

a/n: lmk how you like it!

It had been almost a year since you and Liam officially began dating, and it had been, by far, the happiest year of your life. Liam was the perfect boyfriend—kind, caring, and compassionate. He gave you space when you needed it and crafted adorable wood carvings: sometimes of you, sometimes of your dragon, sometimes depicting the two of you together, and sometimes capturing a special memory from the week. Your heart always melted when he did something like that.

You reciprocated in the ways you knew best: giving Liam space, showering him with love and affection through little gestures like saving him the last muffin at breakfast, writing notes to remind him he was loved, and welcoming him with open arms whenever he was having a rough day.

Both of you knew that your time together was incredibly precious. In the riders' quadrant, where uncertainty looms over every day, you and Liam cherished every moment, never hesitating to express your feelings for fear of missing your chance.

Liam thought about this as you lay on his chest, tracing idle patterns on his skin while finding comfort in the rhythm of his heartbeat. He ran his fingers through your soft hair, gently caressing your back and shoulders, as if trying to imprint the feel of you into his memory. He had told you as much while he moved slowly inside you, pressing loving kisses to your skin and memorizing your body with his lips.

“Y/n?” he whispered.

“Liam,” you replied, halting your movements and resting your chin on his chest to gaze up at his angelic face.

“Do you ever think about the future?” he asked quietly.

You considered his question for a moment before answering. “Honestly, not really. Life is too unpredictable and dangerous for us to worry too much about the future. I want to savor every single moment and not miss anything,” you said. “What about you?”

“Sometimes,” Liam replied.

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his. “What do you think about?”

Liam met your gaze, and for a moment, you felt like you could lose yourself in the depth of his blue eyes. Then he spoke. “I think about us. About what our relationship might be like.”

You smiled endearingly at him. “What do you imagine?” you asked.

Liam suddenly grew shy, averting his eyes. “Well, um, I imagine us together…married,” he said hesitantly, still avoiding your gaze.

That one sentence took your breath away, and you stared at Liam with your mouth slightly open. Marriages were something incredibly uncommon in the Riders quadrant. Hell, even relationships were rare. Everyone wanted to experience as much as they could due to the uncertainty in the way of life here and didn’t fancy the constraints of monogamy.

And amidst all of this, you sweet, loving boyfriend imagined the two of you married.

Your heart soared with joy, with love, with adoration and endearment and emotions you couldn’t even put into words, all directed at the beautiful boy in front of you. When you didn’t respond immediately, Liam’s anxiety grew.

“D-did I say something wrong?” he asked, panic in his voice. “I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head, sitting up to straddle his hips, and gently cupped his face in your hands.

You simply looked at him for a couple of seconds, trying to find your voice, a way to put your feelings into words. Meanwhile, Liam freaked out more and more that he had somehow made you uncomfortable. His heart raced in his chest as he stared into your eyes for a hint of anger, discomfort, fear, but he found none, and his heart calmed. As he saw was love, maybe even understanding and reciprocation of what he felt for you.

“Liam, I love that,” you said with the brightest smile, stroking his cheeks tenderly.

Liam’s lungs refilled with air, face turning a deep shade of red because you didn’t mind. You didn’t judge him for thinking that far ahead into the future, possibly even dreaming about something impossible.

“You do?” he asked, looking at you shyly.

You grinned from ear to ear and leaned down to press a loving kiss to his lips. He immediately responded, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you close. The kiss grew more passionate as you clung to each other, both panting heavily but smiling brightly when you finally broke apart.

“I love you so much, Liam,” you said, your lips brushing against his.

“I love you,” he replied. “And I want to be with you for as long as I live.”

You smiled that heartstopping smile at him and said the words that made his heart practically beat out of his chest. “Me too. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

And you showed your love to each other for the rest of the night and into the early hours of the morning.

Masterlist

#liam mairi fourth wing #liam mairi x reader #liam mairi #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing x reader #liam mairi x you #liam mairi x y/n #fourth wing fluff #liam mairi fluff

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delopsia · 3 months

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Thinking about Rhett, who isn't as big of a sex addict as the town of Wabang has chalked him up to be.

It's not particularly difficult to draw such a conclusion; between the countless times his momma has opened his bedroom door and gotten flashed by a woman she's never met before and all the one-night stands, it makes a lot of sense.

To Wabang, Rhett's just one of those guys. The town bicycle. Willing to follow anyone into a cheap motel room for a bit of fun, regardless of who they are, what they look like, or if he'll ever see them again. His buddies joke that he just can't keep it in his pants, and Cecelia's bible group whispers that the devil has his claws in deep.

That's not the full story; it's a tale that Rhett's been denying from the moment he realized it. For a period of time, he does manage to push it into the farthest depths of his mind, too weary of what acknowledging it may do to him.

But then you come along, with your sweet smile and eyes that glisten at the sight of him, and it comes rumbling right back to the forefront of his mind. His friends love to drunkenly joke that he must be having a hard time holding himself back, but it's not that at all.

To tell the truth, his sex drive isn't as wild and rampaging as everyone thinks it is; he doesn't have that crippling obsession with having a nameless face beneath him; in fact, his hand and imagination are usually more satisfying. It's always with him, no worry of another officer noticing his truck rocking, paying for a motel he won't stay in for longer than a few hours, or waking up alone.

But there's just something about the concept of people wanting to sleep with him. Man, woman, something in between; it's never been much of a concern to him. All it takes is that lingering, hungry gaze to get him weak in the knee, heart pounding in his chest. Too eager to fall into that fleeting feeling of being wanted, even if the sunrise dissolves it into the familiar, grimy sensation of feeling used.

In all honesty, he's not even sure what to do with that information; how does one even bring that up? What difference does it make?

You don't mention anything about it until after you go through a sudden period of wanting him multiple times a day, riding him before he goes to work, sneaking over on his lunch break, just for a taste, luring him in after that night's rodeo and then again in the shower.

It's to the point that even you are surprised that he isn't beating you back with the broomstick. An intrusive thought suggests that he's pushing himself because he doesn't want to tell you no. So you do the only thing you can think of; you pull out of an impromptu kiss and confront him about it.

And Rhett flounders.

Stuttering the beginnings of a confession that he doesn't know how to tell, tripping through every little word until it all rolls out in one jumbled mess.

"I likeitwhenyouwantme."

It's so rushed and poorly put together that he's got to grab your hand and press it against the bulge in his jeans, the only way that he knows how to convince you that he wants this. He loves this.

Piece by piece, it all clicks together. The way that his eyes always darken when you cradle his face in your hands and kiss him before he can speak. How easily he falls into tandem with you when you start whispering into his ear, or that time he went from yawning to nearly eating you alive, all from you pulling him by his tie.

You think it's something that will fade with time, but it really doesn't. It's a card that almost always works on him. One little look or the brush of your hand up his thigh is enough to have him falling into you.

God forbid you start whispering about how much you want him, the things you love about him, and how good he is for you. The first time you do it, he cums before you can finish licking that first stripe up the underside of his cock.

Nobody ever expects for cowboys to be whimpering messes in bed, especially not the champion bull-rider with a winding, blue-collar pedigree. And to be fair, he probably wouldn't be this way if you never took advantage of his weaknesses, but you just can't help yourself. It's a habit that you can't break, whispering into his ears or letting your wandering hands do all of the talking.

The only times he ever tells you that he's no are when he's at an extreme, injured from a rodeo, worked to the bone, or wrapped up in a horrible mood that he just can't shake. Even then, he does often seek you out when he's feeling better; there's just something about it that makes him so damn happy.

It's the intimacy, your hands in his hair and his name on your pretty tongue. It's the overwhelming fact that you want him and all of his flaws. Nobody else will do. He loves being with you, and feeling you, and making you happy.

It's the trust that you are willing to share your most vulnerable moments with him. The way that you treat him with just as much care as he treats you with. He's given and been burned so, so many times, but you treat his beaten soul as if it's made of glass.

There are so many better men out there, but of all those people, you've picked him, and it's something that will never not get his heart racing in his chest.

#i got no idea where this was going or what its supposed to be #rhett abbott #delgato's warmups #rhett abbott x reader

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sarawritestories · 4 months

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I Wanna Be Yours Chapter 2

Xaden Riorson X Lydia Aetos

Summary: Lydia Aetos Longs to be a Ballerina, her father has other plans, and has conscripted her to the rider's quadrant with her childhood friend Violet. Reuniting with her brother he only gives her two orders. Do not bring up wanting to dance and stay far away from Xaden Riorson. Both of his orders go ignored.

Chapter Summary: Lydia is drowning in the memories of her past, and trying to get her footing at Basgiath.

A/N: I'm so sorry that it took me this long to get out. I loved chapter 1 so dearly I was struggling to make sure Chapter 2 was just as good!

I hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it! I promise it won't be super long like this for every update I was just going through some things and fighting some insecurities!

Word Count: 9,235 (I wasn't going to have you all wait this long just for a short fic

Chapter 1 I Wanna Be Yours Masterlist

My breathing becomes rapid as I wait to go on stage. The anticipation before a performance has always been the reason for my heart racing and my nerves are heighten. The warmth of a larger tanned hand enveloping my own instantly quiets the noise in my mind. “You look like you’re ready to crawl out of your skin, Dove.” I smile and look at Lian, my dance partner, my love. His warm brown eyes, twinkling under the mage lights. He smiles and it’s so disarming and causes butterflies to flutter in my stomach. “You are radiant.”

I giggle, and smooth out my dance dress the flowing skirts various shades cobalt that stops at my knees. The bodice having an intricate design of silver swirls against the blue corset like top. “You say that every show.” His free hand plays with one of the lose curls framing my face, the rest of my hair in a tight ornate bun. I take in his form; his outfit matches mine in hue with his pants various levels of blue with a simply white tunic that reveals some of his tone chest the silver pendant you gave him wrapped around his neck. “I have to say, Lian, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Lian chuckles as He lifts my hand to his lips, pressing them to my knuckles specifically where the ring he had given me resides. “I mean it Lydia. I love-

The music swells in the auditorium the melody, the indication I need to appear. “See you out there, Lover Boy.” He releases my hand as I begin to leap onto the stage and into Fourth position. Feeling Lian’s warm gaze upon my body, causing my cheeks to redden. I begin the routine.

My movements are fluid, my turns sharp. Seraphina’s words in the back of my mind, “Keep those feet pointed, arms straight, girl.” Her raspy voice rings in my ears as I correct my feet and my arms. Allowing the music to enter my body once again. I am its puppet, the symphony my puppeteer.

I swirl my skirt whirling around me the shades of blue looking like rippling waves around me. And I begin the movements that lead to my big leap when I notice one of the musicians hit the incorrect note. Seraphina always said to not let the musicians’ mistakes be your downfall on the stage. Heading that advise I push through tampering my annoyance I run and take in the air. My grin big, my legs stretched wide, I feel as though I’m flying, and in this moment one thing rings true, there will never be a more freeing feeling than this.

The other musicians’ notes turn sharp and out of tune, and the disruption despite what I was taught causes me to stumble my landing. I hiss as my ankle rolls, causing my body to collapse to the ground, but I don’t think about the pain as screams erupt from the theater. Tanned Hands are instantly on my waist hoisting me up and the familiar smell of soap and ocean waves crash tells me its Lian. I smell the flames before I see them. “Lian, we have to get out of here.” My voice trembles as fear begins to consume me.

Flames erupt around the theater as the ground shakes before us Lian grabs me closer to me. "I'm sorry dove," he whispers.

"For what?" He presses his forehead to mine. Panic laces my voice as he grips me tighter, his thumb grazing against my hip in a soothing manner. Confusion washes through me at his behavior, we should be trying to leave to get out of here. “Lian, you’re scaring me.”

"I love you more today than I did yesterday." He murmurs in my hair. My chest feels heavy like someone is applying all their weight over my heart at his words. I can’t breathe. He looks at me expectantly and my stomach gets a sinking sensation.

I shake my head as tears pool in my eyes and begin to run down my face, as I cup his cheek, "Why does this feel like a goodbye?" I cry out while he waits patiently waiting for me to finish his statement. The sounds around us muted by the intensity this conversation has become.

"Finish it, dove. Please." The banisters above us crash, and the flames lick my skin as he grips me closer to his chest. “We don’t have a lot of time.”

I tremble, and press his lips to mine quickly, "I'll love you more tomorrow than I did today." He kisses my lips once more, just when the stage collapses, he pushes me out of the way. The warmth of his touch lingering on my skin as I watch him get consumed by the hole where the stage once stood. Arms wrap around me, hoisting me up and dragging me to safety. I begin to thrash and scream, calling out to him, "Lian, LIAN!"

My Screams the only sound in the burning auditorium.

“Wake up, Lydia! Wake! Up!” Dain’s voice breaks through the darkness and my eyes open with a jolt and I sit up. My eyes can’t seem to focus, and I don’t recall where I am, Dain’s hands grip my shoulders, and my gaze quickly moves to my brother. His eyes hold concern in them, his brows furrowed, “You were just having a dream.” His thumbs rubbed my shoulders, “You were out for two days.”

“Two days.” Memories of golden yellow eyes and how the blue daggertail bowed to me. A dragon had bowed to me! I lived to tell the tale of my first interaction with a dragon.

I slowly lift my hands and wrap them around his wrists as though I need proof, he is really with me. His eyes glance at my hand and spot the silver band with a swirls throughout the band and the initials LD engraved in it. “I didn’t think he would let you keep anything after mom left.” His brown eyes meet mine.

I quickly remove my hands with a scoff. “The General doesn’t get to dictate what I keep and what gets thrown away. Even if he thinks he does.” My mind goes back to watching as he destroyed one set of my pointe shoes. I smile, what he didn’t know on that day, that in my bag, the new pair I had bought from the traveling market were there.

Dain releases my shoulders, pinching the bridge of his nose, “Lydia he is only trying to protect you.” He lowers his hands and shoots me a glare, “As am I.” His tone is clipped.

I blink and my lip curls, “What’s that supposed to mean?” I cross my arms.

My brother leans against his chair, also crossing his arms a familiar stance we have taken over the years. One that only led to one of us screaming and the other either with tears, or a broken nose. Dain’s nose has never looked the same since. “Are you aware whose dragon it was that you enticed?”

Rage consumes my body, “You want to ask that again, Brother?” I quirk a brow at him.

“No.” His tone is just like the general’s, too much like him.

“You know I don’t know, so don’t be a condescending prick and just tell me.” I begin to stretch my legs under the blankets my feet naturally pointing. The numb feeling shifting into pins and needles my legs has been in one position for too long. I need to get up…I need to practice.

“That was Xaden Riorson’s dragon, Lydia.” Dain snarls. “And you bowed to it, like it she was some all-powerful being. Do you know how that makes the Aetos family look? Did that even cross your mind?”

I turn to sit at the edge of my bed, my hand gripping the end so tightly my knuckles turn white. “You’re joking, right?” Anger begins to bubble; my face begins to heat up and I can feel the tears beginning to build. “A dragon approached me. In most cultures, bowing between two parties is a sign of respect. I was thinking of how I could come out of that situation alive.” Dain’s lips formed into a tight line shifting in his seat. “I thought about my life. I wasn’t thinking about who that dragon belonged to, how embarrassing it was for you. I sure as fuck did not give a shit about our family reputation.” I rise noting that I am still from my clothes from the parapet. Finally taking in my surroundings I notice the rows of beds someone brought me to the female wing. “What time is it?”

“We have about 2 hours before formation.” Dain says rising from his own scene. “I need you to lay low. Please for the love of the gods, please lay low. Don’t attract any unwanted attention, do not bring up the dancing thing.” He grips my arm, his fingers digging into my skin. “This is the most important one so pay attention. Stay away from Xaden Riorson.”

I snort and yank my arm back, “I have no interest in being near the one person in this place who would probably want to see our heads on a spike, thanks to the action of our father.” Pushing him out of my way I grab my bag that is lying beside my bed. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready for the day.”

I left the female wing before he could get another word in. I manage to find the showers on my own and wash off the grime that I have been sleeping in. Letting the water cascade down my skin, I rub my face my mind wandering from that interaction with the blue daggertail. To the nightmare I woke up from. Lian. My dance partner, my lover, my best friend. I twist the ring on my finger absentmindedly, it’s been months since I last had a dream about him. Tears well up in my eyes.

The rays of the sun warmed my skin as I began my stretches, Lian lying on the blanket in front of me. The sun is hitting his tan skin, his eyes closed, a smile on his face. As though he didn’t have any care in the world, except to be here with me. Finishing my stretches I rise to my feet and lift my teeth on my tippy toes. My bare feet sink into the plush blades of grass. I raise my leg above my head.

I begin to hum, and the tune shifts me from the prairie we are having a picnic at and morphs to the theater. My hums soon are replaced by the sweet sounds of the orchestra. I move my leg down pointed behind me. My movements fluid as my feet carries me through the stage. Leaps precise arms tight, various faces in the crowd, that I don’t pay close attention to. I begin my pirouette. I’m to do five spins for this routine, the most I have done. Putting myself in position I smile out to the crown and stumble, brown hair the same as my own, a smile that Dain inherited are looking back at me. It’s not that my mother is in the crowd that causes my movements to falter. Her eyes, seeming to glow in the dim lights of the theater and their color, gone were the warmth and comfort of her blue eyes. Her gaze now cold, hard and the vilest shade of red.

Hands gripped my waist pulling me tightly, fingers beginning to dance at my size as laughter begins to bubble up my chest.

“Lian!” I squeal as he spins me around, always knowing exactly when I need to be pulled from my thoughts. “Put me down! I’m rehearsing!”

He presses his lips to my ear, “You’re always rehearsing, Dove. We’re outside let’s enjoy our picnic.”

“I don’t like dealing with the wrath of Seraphina.” I murmur as I lean into his touch.

“I have a gift for though. Don’t you want to know what it is?” I whip around to face him, and he chuckles at my wide-eyed expression.

“My Love, if you want my attention, start with gifts.” He leads me back to the blanket and sits me down. “I have something for you too.”

“Me first,” he tucks what he has behind his back. Lian's curly brown hair becoming wild with the soft summer breeze rolling through. “Close your eyes, Dove, and hold out your right hand.”

I quirk a brow but obey, closing my eyes I stick out my right hand. It feels like hours have gone by though it has only been a minute at most before his soft hand holds mine. The cool bite of metal sliding down my finger until it reaches my knuckle. I open my eyes and gasp. The engraving work on the ring is beautiful, the swirling design reminding me of shadows and in the center where the shadows should my initials reside there. LD.

I look up at my partner and smile, “Lian D- He silences me with a kiss one filled with so much passion it makes me dizzy.

He pulls away, “Do you like it?” He murmurs over my mouth.

“No.” His face falls before I kiss his nose, “I love it.” Lian’s grin takes my breath away. “My turn.” I press a hand to his chest, “Sit back, and close your eyes.” Lian sat back on his heels and closed his eyes. I dig through my bag until my fingers grip the chain, pulling it out revealing the oval pendant with my name in the center. I crawl to him and gently place the chain over his head and place the necklace down gently around his neck.

Lian opens his eyes, and looks down to the pendant. His thumb grazes over the engraving of my name as though he was caressing me. My body responds to the sight of it as if his thumb was grazing me, tenderly. He looks up at me with a smile, “Now you’ll be near my heart forever.” Lian grabs my waist and pulls me on his lap. “Happy Anniversary, Dove.”

I press my forehead to his. “Happy Anniversary, Lian.”

“Lydia?” Violet’s voice rings through the bathing chambers.

“I’m in here,” I call out, her footsteps echoing through the chamber.

“Are you okay? I just ran into Dain.” Her voice is hesitant, she knows my feelings for my brother as well as I know about hers. “He seemed upset.”

“He can get in line.” Shutting off the water and grabbing my towel to dry off. “I don’t need a lecture about how he is a good person. I’m not interested in that.”

“I know what today is.” My hands still, “I’m not here to talk about Dain. He’s being an ass.” I wrap the towel around my body and step out. Violet’s blue eyes with flickers of amber were warm. “I’m sorry.” She engulfs me into a hug as I swallow the tears threatening to fall. “He would be so proud of you, Lydia.”

Today would have been our two-year anniversary. I should be at the dance studio with him rehearsing. Yet here I am in Basgiath and Lian…is gone.

Lian’s absence has hurt me in more ways than one. After our one-year anniversary he vanished. At least when my mother abandoned me, she had the decency to leave me a note. Late nights at the lake, stolen kisses backstage, his arms wrapped around me so tight the colonel’s wrath couldn’t find me there. I long for those moments once more, but clearly, he didn’t. His words the day we exchanged gifts ring in my head, “I’ll get you out, Lydia, you’ll never have to deal with your father. I’m going to set you free.”

He didn’t keep his promise. He left me behind without so much as a second glance. Freedom. My mom longed for it, Lian promised it. I’m growing to detest the idea of freedom if it means the people I care about most fucking abandon me for it, leaving me to a cruel fate.

Confined. Controlled. Caged.

What good is freedom if it means stepping on the backs of the people one loves just to get there?

My feeling of sadness contorts to anger as I slowly pull away from Violet, she has never once abandoned me and is confined in this brick cage as I am. Violet doesn’t deserve my anger, though the sympathy in her eyes told me I could, and she would let me. I refuse to be my father or my brother and take my out-of-control feelings out on people who do not deserve it. Straightening my spine I give Violet’s hand a gentle squeeze. “Hard to be proud of someone, you actively abandoned with no word as to why you left.” I release her hand and swallow once more forcing the lump lodged in my throat back down to the pit of my stomach where it belongs. Where all my unwanted feelings belong. “I’m going to get dressed and we can head to formation.

Violet nods, her eyes still glittering with concern. I quickly moved to change into the leathers that were near my bed this morning. Wrapping my hair in a tight bun I stick the two hair pins in. I link my arms with hers and give her a smile, a performative one, but a smile all the same.

Formation was a blur even as I am currently looking for a seat during breakfast, thinking back I can’t quite remember anything other than the list of names of those that did not make it yesterday, and everyone’s eyes on me. Kind of like they are now, though I have never been a stranger to eyes upon me, I wish it was for my ability to dance and not because I survived an interaction with Xaden Riorson’s dragon. And arm drapes around my shoulder, “Welcome back to the land of the living.” Ridoc’s voice is a welcome joy from the ominous stares burning holes in my skin. “Come, we’ve already scooped up Sorrengail.” Before I can counter, he is brining me to the table with Rhiannon, Violet, and a man who’s skinny, sandy curls lay atop his head.

Sitting at the open seat next to him the handsome man, he held out his hand, “Sawyer Henrick.” There is a twinkle in his green eyes, his freckles a stark contrast with his pale skin.

I grip his hand and give him a warm smile, “Lydia Aetos.”

Sawyer winks, “You know, you’re a lot prettier to look at than your brother.”

Heat creeps up my skin, as I release his hand. “Thanks, I guess.” I take a sip of my drink, “He is an eye sore.” Sawyer spits out his drink all over Ridoc as he chuckles, while the latter groans.

“How are you feeling, Lydia?” Rhiannon changes the subject as Ridoc continues his grumbling.

I think back to Xaden’s onyx eyes boring into my skull, or the heat from the Blue Daggertails nostril’s grazing against my neck as if a gust of warm summer’s wind was caressing me. Her yellow eyes staring at me, assessing me, for what? I’m not sure and I hope I wouldn’t find out considering who her rider is. The fear surges back up but a hand gripping my own brings me to the present. Soft, tiny, Violet, I look over to the youngest Sorrengail, “I’m alright. Nothing a few days rest couldn’t solve.”

“So, that interaction with that dragon…”Ridoc pulls my attention to him, “What was that all about?”

I shrug, beginning to devour my meal, not caring how the food tasted as I discover how hungry I am, “I truly wish I knew. I have never met a dragon before her.”

The table falls silent in contemplation. I shift in my seat and feel the familiar prick in the back of my neck. Glancing up Onyx eyes look at me in cold assessment as he eats his food, his stare never breaking from my own. I give my performance grin, the one that makes the audience fall in love with me the moment I step on the stage. Slowly raising my hand, I lift my middle finger to him. His eyes lower and he tilts his head ever slightly ignoring the person who is chatting away in front of him. I give him a playful wink and break eye contact though I can feel his eyes on me.

“Well, should we call you the Queen of the Dragons?” Ridoc quips as the table chuckles with him and I hunch my shoulders slightly, embarrassment trickling through my body. “I mean I have never heard of a dragon that has bowed to a human in that way before. It must mean she’s destined to rule them all.” Ridoc smiles at me as I ball up my napkin to throw at him.

“Absolutely not, I would much rather you all call me twinkle toes than that.” I sip my water as the entire table, Violet included, give each other playful looks.

Collectively and in the highest decibel above screaming yell, “Twinkle Toes!” Before erupting in laughter and I can’t help but join in. I forgotten what it felt like to be surrounded by people that I connect with so well and enjoy their company. Sitting with them wiping my tears from laughter that causes my stomach to ache is a welcome reprieve from the dark corners of my mind where I usually reside.

“Mind if we join?” A man’s voice pulls the group from our bubble and back into reality. I lift my gaze and it feels as though ice has been poured over my head. The man’s eyes the same shade of brown as his, his hair like the curls I ran my fingers through countless times, lips I’ve kissed on numerous occasions. His face has the same shape as Lian’s, they could have been twins. My gaze shifts lower to the relic that peaks through his leathers and that’s where the similarities end, and the sound of my heart shattering thunder in my ears.

“Not at all We have space,” Ridoc scoots down, Lian’s look-a-like allows his handsome friend that had a matching tattoo along, with blonde hair and blue eyes, to sit closer to Ridoc and he sits in front of me. I swallow down my surge of emotions tears threatening to fall as the man smiles at me.

Ridoc takes over with the introductions, saving himself for last. “And who might you two be.”

The blonde-haired male eyes locks on Violets, as he smiles and I notice that her cheeks are red as he holds out his hand to her, “Liam Mairi.” Violet shakes his hand and averts her gaze. Sliding his hand from hers his fingers lingering slightly from her fingertips. Clasping the man’s, in front of me, shoulder, “This right here is Bodhi Durran, a second year.”

Metal clashes as my utensils falls on the plate, “I’m so sorry.” I rise to my feet acutely aware eyes are on me, “I just realize I need to do some things before class starts. Please excuse me.” I smile at Bohdi vision beginning to blur as tears rise, “It was lovely to meet you.” I turn and briskly walk away before anyone can call me back. Running down the hall and into the female wing of the dorms I reach my cot and sob in my pillow. Memories of Lian I have since buried deep rising to the surface:

“Lydia Aetos. My muse.” Lian smiles as my hips grind against his, “My dove.” His tanned hands slide my dress up my thighs they slowly reach my chest palming my cleavage resulting in a moan from me. “Who sings such pretty songs in pleasure.” He sits up and I adjust accordingly as I ride him.

“I love you.” I whisper, my eyes lidded, “I love you Lian Durran.” My fingers slide through his dark curls as his lips find mine and claim me.

A hand clamps over my mouth as I’m hoisted from my cot. My back presses against a hard back a dagger at my neck as hands grip my legs to prevent me from kicking. “Shh, Twinkle Toes. We’re going to take good care of you! I scream resulting in the hand clamping tighter around my mouth.

I lash around as Jack Barlow and his cronies begin to carry me down the empty corridor. “Jack,” the one struggling to keep my feet together groans, “Can’t we at least have some fun with her before we get rid of her?” My body stills at the implication. I know I’m in danger, but fear keeps me frozen in place.

Help

I am incapable of calling out to help as the duo pulls me into the shadows. They pin me to the wall, and I beg my body to move, will it to do anything besides tremble, I think of Dain, and the dream of a better relationship with my brother, of Violet whose kindness has brought me from the brink of insanity by her friendship. I think of Rhiannon, Ridoc, Sawyer, Liam and even Bodhi, friendships I’ll never get to see grow because I know one thing is certain.

I am going to die today.

Jack presses the knife to my skin keeping my head in place with his hand. “I’m going to make sure you feel the humiliation I felt on the parapet that day.” He whispers in my ear as he grazes the knife across my neck, hard enough to break skin, though not hard enough to kill. As if he was a predator toying with his food, he lowered the cold steel down to my chest where the leathers we received protected me from taking any reputable damage. “You are such a pretty little thing.” Bile rose in the back of my throat at his words. “You’ll be even prettier drenched in your blood.

“But you sai-

“Even I wouldn’t stoop that low.” And with a quick movement of his hand Jack slit the other cadet’s throat. I screamed his palm muffling the sound. His cold blue eyes meet mine, “Now where were we?”

“What do we have here?” A low voice causes Jack to turn, yanking me to his front. Hazel eyes meet mine and I take a moment to take in the person in front of me. His dark black hair with short curls allows the sharp angles of his face to stand out. His high cheekbones and perfectly set nose this man is handsome and right now his mouth is set in a firm line, “It’s not nice to hand a pretty lady in such a way.”

“I’m handling a pest problem.” Jack simply states.

The man smiles and its devastatingly beautiful. “Allow me to correct myself.” His large, calloused hand wraps around my forearm and maneuvers me out of Jack’s grasp with ease. All the while gripping the collar of Jack’s jacket, “You will not touch her or come near her ever again. “Do you understand?” Jack nods a snarl curling at his lips as the man releases him. “Good not run along, you’ll be late for battle brief.” Jack makes sure to level me with a glare as he walks down the corridor. The mystery man turns towards me and smiles, his eyes scanning me, locking in my neck where the warmth of my blood clings to my skin. “You’re hurt.”

“A simple scratch, it will be gone in the morning.” I look to the corpse lying behind him and he glances to where I’m staring, “Better than being that guy at the moment.” The man snorts as his gaze lands on me once more. He nods as though the answer is good enough for him as I reach out my hand, “I’m Lydia.”

His eyes light up in recognition, “Aetos right?” I sheepishly nod my head as he takes my hand and places a soft kiss on my knuckles, “A pleasure. You are much nicer to look at than your brother.” He releases my hand and I laugh.

“I see my brother has made quite the name for himself.” I quip as I fidget as silence fell between the two of us.

“Come on Cadet, we will be late for battle brief.” The man extends his arm for me to loop through and as my hand pressed into his muscled arm, he led me down the hall.

I look back to the body on the ground, “Um shouldn’t we take care of him?”

Garrick chuckles, “Don’t fret, Pretty girl, someone will dispose of him and his things. “Death is pretty commonplace here.” I feel his eyes are on me. I glance back in his direction to see a playful smirk on his face, “I like your eyes. How one is brown, and one is blue. Its about as unique as having a dragon bow to you.” He quirks a brow as I groan looking up at the ornate ceiling above. “Word travels fast here.”

“So much for going through these three years undetected I guess.” He hums in agreement, and I take a moment to study him as we go down the stairs. “So does the pretty boy have a name?”

The man winks at me, “He does.”

“Well, I can’t call you my hero forever,” I smile, the sadness of a former love fluttering away, as I shamelessly flirt with the man in front of me.

He whistles, “You’re good, Aetos.” He releases my arm only playfully nudges me. “My name is Garrick. Feel free to keep calling me your hero though. I won’t mind.”

I laugh, “You’re a shameless flirt.” I counter as we approach a classroom, students from every year begin filing in.

Onyx eyes meet mine, his nostrils flare slightly at the sight of me with Garrick but his lips remain in a tight line as a warmth breath grazes my ear, “Takes one to know one, Pretty Girl.” I whip my head towards him as he stands to his full height and walks into the room without so much as a goodbye. Though he is quick to wrap what I now see as a tattooed arm around Xaden causing the Wingleader to break eye contact with me.

“Hey, are you okay? You ran off pretty quickly at breakfast.” Ridoc’s voice rings out as I find him with the others at the entryway.

“I’m fine, just needed to catch up on work.” Ridoc nodded as we all entered the large classroom with chairs that rose all the way up to the rafters. Every student in Basgiath could be sat here. The ornate look of the room takes my breath away as it reminds me of the theater I once used to frequent with my mother.

“Everyone, take your seats and we will begin.” A woman projects her voice from where she stands, at what can only be described as a stage. I’m once again reminded of the fact that I am no longer a dancer. This is not a theater. I am to become a rider. This is Battle Brief.

Waking up early, I quickly change into my leotard and tights that I sneak past my father’s nose. The last week has been a challenge to say the least. I have been struggling to gain my footing, Dain’s constant quips and critiques, the intense class schedule. Finding reasons to get up and keep moving has been a challenging one for me. Familiar dark thoughts overriding my brain my father’s words ringing in my ears. Somedays I am able to quiet them other time they were yelled in high decibels causing me to curl into a ball in my cot.

Worthless. Pathetic. Disgrace of a child.

Wrapping my pointe shoes around my ankles tying them securely I begin to tiptoe toward the Gym where there are full length mirrors.

Grateful that no one is around, I begin my stretches, my feet pointed outward, I lower my body. I focus on my breathing as I plie I reach one arm out in front of me the other above me and I sink lower once more.

Inhale

Hold 2, 3, 4

Exhale

I rise on my exhale and do this a few more times trying to keep my breathing even and the dark thoughts at bay. To keep from those feelings consuming me entirely as they have in previous years. And I begin to do my routine.

“You need to get up, Lydia.” Lian whispers as I turn over and cover the pillow over my head groaning. “Dove.” His fingers graze up my bare spine.

“Go away.” I grumble pulling the covers over me tightly.

Lian continues his tender strokes, “Is it happening again?” He gently removes the pillow from my head to reveal my tear-stained cheeks. “The dark feelings returning.”

I nod my head, “It feels like my body weighs a ton. I just want to lay in bed.” Lian proceeds to pull the covers off me and before I can begin to scold him, he kisses the bottom of my spine spine and leaves soft pecks all the way up to the base of my neck. “Lian.” I warn.

“I’m not going to do anything, not like that anyway.” He chuckles as his firm hands begin to rub the tension from my shoulders. “Seraphina can rehearse with the others today.”

“You should-

“I would never leave you behind, Dove.” He continues to massage my back and reaches a knot that elicits a groan. “I’m going to set you free, baby. I promise.” A small smile emerges on my face, “There she is.”

My spins become sloppy as memories of Lian bubble up.

I would never leave you behind. But he did.

I am going to set you free. Yet, I’m still in a cage.

I love you, Dove. Then why did he leave?

I lose my footing as I leap, and my ankle rolls before I can fall to the floor calloused hands grip my arms. My body stiffens as I see the rebellion relic, followed by the scent of leather and mint. My eyes gaze up to meet the Gold flecked onyx of Xaden Riorson. “What has you up this early?”

I writhe out of his grasp, “Why do you want to know?”

Xaden quirks his scarred brow, “I’m your Wingleader, Kitten, it’s my job to know why my cadet is not only out of bed but why she is in…whatever it is you’re wearing.”

I look down at my pointe shoes followed by my pink tights and leotard, “I’m a dancer. This is dance attire.”

His eyes graze down my body and a shiver course down my spine at his ogling. “Why are you here?”

“This space is for all cadets, Wingleader.” I begin to continue when he presses a finger to my lips.

“No, no. Why are you here in Basgiath?” His thumb idly swiped my hip the tenderness of the action pulling me from my stupor. As I whack his hand and step out of his grasp. “I mean it is pretty obvious you don’t belong here, Kitten.”

Through gritted teeth, “Well the fuck aware, Riorson. I also recall telling you my name is Lydia.”

He takes a step closer, gripping my chin he forces me to look at him, “Tell me something, Lydia. Why did you bow to Sgaeyl?”

Sgaeyl. That is the name of his dragon. Beautiful. Just like her. “Out of respect.”

“You didn’t have to.” He murmurs getting close enough that I have no choice but to look up at him. “Most people would have ran away.”

“I’m not most people. I prefer keeping my flesh intact not becoming a pile of ash.” I pull one of the hair pins from my hair pressing it to his chest forcing him to take a step back. “Tell me, Xaden, why did she bow in return?”

He hums in contemplation, and I scowl. He bends down at the waist, so our faces are inches apart from one another. My heartbeat quickens at him being so close to me, warmth pooling in my belly as his beautiful face closes in on mine, our nose near touching. “Now where is the fun in answering that, Kitten.” His face contorts into a look of confusion. “You’re crying.”

I press my hand to my cheek to find tears there. The dark thoughts hit me like a wave crashing over a rock, unlike a rock, I get swept up in the current:

Useless, Pathetic, Annoying. Traitor

Traitor

I wrap my arms around myself and take a step away from the Wingleader. The warmth his body provided was now gone. “I have to go, if I want to change and make it to formation in time.” I turn acutely aware I am putting my back to him as I scurry off back from the room. Finding a vacant hallway, I slide my back against the cool brick, rubbing my chest. The words are becoming all-consuming, and I allow myself to succumb to the darkness. The words playing in a loop as though it was playing through a faulty record player.

Worthless

Words are so cruel but have been my constant companion when people I care about were so quick to leave me. Abandon me. Brennan, my mom, Lian, even Dain is guilty of abandoning me. It’s hard to not let the vile words keep me down when the most important people in my life constantly leave me. At some point the words that would pop up as fleeting thought began to take root and seep into my brain as something factual the moment, I found that letter on my bed. The moment I learned that I wasn’t worth fighting for, wasn’t worth defending.

Dain’s betrayal stung the most when he would stop defending me against our father when it came to my dancing and has since tried to snuff out the one good thing in my life with him.

“I highly doubt you’re good enough to make a career out of it. This is a fine hobby sure, but you need to realize that he expects you to train to be a warrior.”

A chunk of my heart deteriorated that day. Dain has never once seen me dance, for him to say that hurt. For him to then reiterate that last week stings more. Nothing has changed and I was hoping that being here away from our father would give us the chance to mend things. The hope now since squandered since I yielded my practice challenge after the first punch. He said I was embarrassing him and making father look like a fool.

Maybe I am a fool. Fool for falling in love with a performer who the moment things became complicated had left without an utterance of goodbye.

Foolish for thinking I could have a career in dance with my father carrying me like a marionette doll. Foolish for thinking him and I would ever have a loving father daughter relationship like I witness Violet have with her father.

Foolish for thinking I’m good enough to fight for, to love, to be cared for.

Foolish

Stray tears turn into stream of sobs as I tuck my knees to my chest and bury my face in them. I don’t care how loud I’m being, or how emotional I am. I just want the ache in my chest to disappear, for the heaviness of my existence to lift from my shoulders. For someone, anyone, to pull me from the depths of my darkness so that I may be able to breathe easier, to feel less burdensome.

My vision blurs as I allow the thoughts to rip me apart, the sounds of footsteps causing me to lift my head. Finding a tall figure hovering over me as my vison gives way to the tears, I don’t register the hands that lift me from the ground only the comforting smell of Leather and mint before falling asleep allowing the exhaustion of my episode to welcome me with open arms.

“Lydia!” Violet squeals jolting me awake, I look to see I’m on my cot. The other women filtering through. “You missed formation, I was so worried about you.” Her frail arms wrap around my neck and I’m quick to embrace her back not only because I needed her comfort but also to keep her from falling. “Were you asleep the whole time?”

I shrug, “I honestly am not sure how I got here. I was practicing in the gym before anyone had woken up. Next thing I know I am waking up to you.” She nods and a pang of guilt hits me like a dagger, I know that someone had brought me back here during my meltdown. Violet has enough to worry about on her own, she doesn’t need to be worried about me as well. “Was Dain mad?”

Violet bit her lip and her cheeks became rosy, “He was,” She looked up as though she was trying to pick the best word from a shelf. “Agitated.”

Shit.

“He was angry. I didn’t mean to miss formation. I just didn’t wake up.” I sit up and grab my leathers. Preparing for the fight I will inevitably have with my brother. “I will be surprised if he doesn’t just kill me before the year is over. That way he doesn’t have to worry about me ruining his image.”

“Well, what if I said that I have something that gives you and I an edge.” I pause and turn to my friend. She holds up a book in her hands the scrawl so familiar.

The Book of Brennan

“How?”

“Mira must have kept it after Brennan died.” Violet shrugs and her eyes shift as if for a moment she was back home, and her brother was still alive. I reach over and grip her shoulder and she physically shake off the memories. She gives me a smile, “We’ll read this after classes. If we are even late to one. I fear Ridoc is going to become lost.”

“Can’t have that. I’ll change quickly and we can go.” She nods with a smile and the vacancy in her eyes dissipating. And I turn to go change, wishing there was something I could do to keep Violet safe from the horrors of this world.

I’m going to murder Violet.

The brisk cold air of the night still reaching my bones even with my cloak on. I cling the material tighter to my chest as I cross the courtyard hoping I blend in with the dark shadows of the night. I shouldn’t even be the one out here tonight. After reading Brennan’s guide to surviving Basgiath, Violet took it upon herself a few days ago to find out who our first challenge partners were. In turn she knew of a flower that grew in a tree near the lake that would give herself an edge next week. She had asked if she should get enough for two people, but I refused. I had no intention of fighting anyone next week but that even if I did I would not need it.

Violet didn’t intend to have a flare up before she set off on her little escapade tonight. These past few weeks have taken a toll on her body even though she would never say anything. Dain and I knew she is suffering in silence, stubborn just like her mother. Though tonight she couldn’t even get out of bed. Her silvery blue eyes pleading as she asked if I would go get the flower for her. Even gave me a rough sketch of what I was looking for. Not being able to deny the minx anything I agreed and now out in the abnormally cold evening for summer my knee flares in pain, something that occurs when weather shifts, I sustained an injury during a performance when I first started dancing and now, I’m acutely aware of when we are getting a storm, or when General Sorrengail is having a fit. The abnormal chill causes another shooting pain to my knee, and I grit my teeth swallowing the pain.

The tree comes into focus and my mind drifts back to simpler times.

“Dain! I can’t its too high.” I scream clinging tightly to a branch closing my eyes to avoid looking at the daunting distance from the branch to the ground.

“Lydia, I promise I’ll catch you.” Dain voice calls out. “I promise I won’t let you fall.”

I peak an eye open and his arms only slightly bigger than mine are wide open ready to cling onto me should I decide to jump down. “I’m scared.” I whisper.

“I’m your brother, my job is to protect you. I just need you to trust me. Can you do that?” I nod my head and take a steadying breath as I ease my grip on the branch. Shifting in a seated position the skirt of my pale pink dress shifting with me. “That’s it. Now jump!”

I close my eyes and take that leap a shrill scream erupting from my throat as the air whirled around my ears. Arms gripped my shoulders and knees. “See,” Dains voice; a soothing balm over my fears, “You are safe. So long as I breathe, I will always keep you safe, Lydia. I promise.” I latch my arms around his neck and squeeze him tight.

“I love you, Dain.”

Another cold breeze kisses my cheeks as I’m brought to the present, where it’s not warm and sunny, but warm with the looming threat of rain above. Where my brother and I are not close and may as well be strangers. The only person who would protect me from the monsters lurking in the shadows being myself. I shake the looming thoughts reminding myself that I am here for a task.

I lighten my steps to keep them quiet and not draw attention to myself. To further ease my worries of being caught as I loom closer to the tree, I imagine that I’m not a cadet out past curfew in a war college I want nothing to do with, but instead a wraith dancing across the stage, undetected from the royal guards. The orchestra’s melodies were one of short beats that matched with footsteps, a dark undertone to build the tension for the audience, as though I may be caught. My movements highlight my ability to flip and contort my body, in place of my normal languid long movements.

My feet move on their own accord as I dance with a face covering to conceal my identity, for if the guards realized there was an assassin on their grounds, they would likely kill me. In swift movements, as though I’m galloping toward the tower, where my sworn enemy waits for me at the top. I stretch my body as if I was on my tiptoes I would be able to reach the man who was destined to be my enemy. Who became my lover instead. Lovers destined to be apart, who against the odds found moments to be together. The music roars in my ears as the short beats of the music shift to one of longing and passion.

I place my foot in the slot made for my dance shoes and begin my accent my lover waiting for me at the top of the tower. The music rises in tandem with my ascent and dramatically I falter on a step acting as though I lost my footing. The music in tandem with the music building to a climactic moment, the audience gasping thinking I will fall. As gracefully as slid, I pushed my body back against the set piece and continued my ascension.

My forehead collides with a tree trunk, and I yelp in surprise. Reality rearing its hideous form from my beautiful daydream to reveal I am halfway up the tree. How I didn’t hit any other branches takes me by surprise, but I continue, keeping my eyes peeled for the flower Violet needs.

Spotting the delicate looking but also dangerous plant I settle myself on a large branch that supports my weight and I gather a few of the buds and place it in the vile that the youngest Sorrengail sibling provided for me. Once I gather enough for Violet to use, I place the vile in my pocket and set to lower myself from the tree where I hear voices. Lying on my stomach keeping myself flushed against the tree branch as three cloaked figures come into view.

The three lower their cloaks and my heart stops. The pink hair of the marked one that destroyed Violets shoulder at our practice round of challenges. Garrick’s curls appeared from the cloak along with his annoyingly handsome smirk. Finally, Xaden Riorson, and in the moonlight, I can’t deny that his beauty whooshes the breath out of me. I especially try to keep the fact that his body close to mine when I ran into him at the gym plays across my mind periodically and heat pools in my stomach at the though of his hands on me and his lips…

The shuffling of more feet pulls me from stupor as more marked ones approach, I know because most have opted to not wear any coverings and let reveal their relics with pride. I scrunch my brows; this meeting is against the codex. The marked ones are not supposed to congregate in groups larger than three. A ridiculous rule, as these children are paying for the crimes of their parents but regardless a rule they are actively breaking. I pray to whatever gods can hear to keep me hidden. Xaden only needs to look up to see I’m there to expose that I’m listening and because of who I’m related to; he has grounds to kill me for simply being at the wrong place at the wrong time.

I am going to murder Violet.

As the group of Marked one’s settle is when Xaden’s voice booms in the courtyard. “Alright, let’s get started.”

A person in the back of the group perks up, “I am having a difficult time with History.”

Imogen snorts, “Because of the dates, or because of the lies?” I roll my eyes at her, I may agree that I don’t believe what they are teaching is accurate especially after talking to Lian last year but to stupidly question out loud in the open where anyone could hear is foolish and the quickest to get yourself executed for treason.

“Both.” The young man mutters. Movement on my leg causes me to jolt and I clamp a hand over my mouth to prevent me from shrieking as I look at my leg only to find my leg hidden in the shadows, and it almost feels like the shadows are caressing my leg as if in comfort. Feeling my heartrate regulate I lay back down in my position and try to remain quiet as Garrick answers the young boy.

As the hour ticks by I learn that Xaden is helping the marked ones get through their time here. They like me didn’t ask to be here but must make the best of the dangerous situation their parents unknowingly put them in. My eyes constantly find Xaden’s figure through this meeting and how he looks almost fatherly, the way he’s standing, and the words of comfort and advice causes my chest to tighten. Xaden is more of a loving father to these people than my father ever was to me. Once again, I felt movement against my leg only to find darkness and my brows knit in confusion.

“What of Lydia Aetos and Violet Sorrengail?” A girl in front quips up in front and my blood runs cold.

“What of them?” Garrick questions back in a tone that can only be described as a warning as he crosses his arms.

“Their parents are the reason we’re here against our will. When do we get to punish them for their crimes? It’s clear we can’t touch Dain, but surely, we can take out the twinkle toed princess?”

“Lydia Aetos and Violet Sorrengail, are mine to handle.” Xaden says with cool indifference though his tone edged on being scolding. “I will remind you, Cadet, that Violet and Lydia didn’t ask to be here either. Violet was studying to be a scribe and you’ve all seen Aetos dance. Neither of them wanted to be here. They are trapped in the same position as we are by the exact same people.”

“You plan on sparing them?” The girl retorts her voice bordering on shrieking. “My mom and older sister are dead because of them. I think taking their children evens the score.”

“Fall in line, Cadet. The two girls are not your kill. I said I am going to handle it. Believe me no one has more reason to hate those two than me.” A sinking feeling wraps me into a state of paralysis. The memory of his hands on me shatters like glass, of course he has every reason to hate me for what my father did. Of course he would want to settle the score, blinded simply by the fact that he’s attractive, I forgot how lethal he is.

The silence permeates over the courtyard, “If you don’t have any other questions then we’re done here.” Imogen commands her nose in the air. “Make sure you go in groups of three to not raise suspicion.”

The group begins to disband in their merry groups of three murmuring about the happenings of this meeting. Imogen and Xaden left together as Garrick waved them off leaning against the tree, watching them go with ease. Silence falls leaving the creatures of the night to sing their beautiful melodies. It almost lulls me to sleep as Garrick’s voice breaks me from the trance, “Have a good night, Pretty Girl, and good luck.” He pauses as my heart thunders out of my chest, and chuckles pushing himself off the trunk of the tree, “You’re gonna’ need it.” He begins to walk away, and I’m left alone in a state of confusion.

I wait a few minutes to ensure that everyone has left before I make my descent. Landing on the grass with a soft thud, I take a moment to admire the moonlight reflecting the rippling waves, a smile on my face in the beauty of it. Pulling my gaze away from the water I attempt to lift my leg to walk only to find it won’t move. Looking down tendrils of darkness are wrapped snuggly against both ankles keeping my feet planted to ground. I attempt to move again and almost scream out when a low chuckle emerges behind me, whipping around my wavey hair falling over my shoulder as I meet Gold-flecked Onyx eyes and my heart falls into my stomach as Xaden’s figure emerges into the moonlight. A slight tilt of his lips as he crosses his arms.

“You’re not where you’re supposed to be, Kitten.”

To Be Continued!!

Some I tagged that wouldn't let me link if that happened I'm so sorry!

Story Tags: @milswrites @lady-of-tearshed @marvelsmylife @sherayuki @misslady246

@thelov3lybookworm @a-frog-with-a-laptop @randomperson1234sblog @garricks4thwingqueen @leastlikelytoachieve

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@pit-and-the-pen @demi321win-chester @aelincaddel @nighttimemoonlover

Enjoy!!

#xaden x reader #xaden riorson x reader #fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing imagine #fourth wing xaden #xaden riorson #xaden and sgaeyl #xaden riorson x lydia aetos

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