#seeds x reader

[devil-in-hiding]

Wife :(

I suffer from sundress smut withdraw :(

I will die soon :(

-🦋(obv bc ur my wife hehehhe)

farmer!reader working out in the garden. You don’t mind getting dirty, it’s your favorite season and you want to get your seeds and buds planted, and you’ve perfected getting nasty stains out of the laundry

so when Gaz wanders around back to ask if you need anything to drink, just to find you on your knees, dress straps having slipped down your shoulders, tits practically spilling over the top, barefoot and oh so wild, it’s no surprise when Ghost comes looking for the two of you he finds Gaz balls deep inside of you, legs over his shoulders, the two over you covered in dirt

He can hear the slick sounds of Gaz’s cock spreading you open, your fucked out little whines ringing out in the open air. “G-gonna cum- f-fuck Gaz right there-“

He watches as Gaz keeps his pace, deep, slow strokes that have you choking out a strangled scream, and Ghost can see the way you soak the earth beneath you

[homelanderpilled]

my poor angel i was gonna say something really deep and philosophical about how tragic he is but his stupid eyes captivated me too much i forgot

[agender-wolfie]

Y’all need to understand what gender neutral actually means. Saying “This fic is gender neutral and there are no pronouns or descriptors used” then using “pretty girl” or “that’s my girl” immediately after is NOT gender neutral! Stay out of our spaces if you can’t respect us.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

Hi bb, just a thirst idea for you: Study fucking. Your fave has trouble being "smart" but he is a genius when it comes to pounding that ass after he gets too frustrated during a study session.

Oh, Vi, my sweet. I know you sent this a while ago. But when I read it, my heart wasn't the only thing to clench up 😈! Thank you so much for sending this to me. It was so fun to write!!

A/N ::: Nerd/Bad Boy!Keisuke Baji x F.reader, reader doesn't know he's in Toman until later (or at all, idk), he is NOT playing stupid, math is just really fucking hard!

C/W ::: Mutual pining that's super on the DL, unprotected P->V, Baji surprising us ... so nothing out of the ordinary.

WC ::: Just over 2k.

"Why though?!" Baji yelled a little louder than you thought he needed to. But it was clear he was getting more and more pissed about this. "Why the FUCK does it have to equal the fucking same area as this fucking pellaroraglam?"

You bit the insides of your cheeks and your tongue to keep from laughing at him about his pronunciation of the word 'parallelogram'. "Because that's how the Greeks intended it. Ok? Let's take a 10 minute break and come back to this again, yeah? You're not an idiot, Kei. I think you've just been staring at the book for so long that things are starting to make less and less sense. Does that make sense?" You reached over and took his glasses from his face and brushed your finger up and down the bridge of his nose. "Do you want to go for a walk or get something from the kitchen? Maybe to eat or drink? Make this 10 count because when we get back, we're hittin' it hard again, ok?"

Something about your wording made his cock twitch. But he shoved that thought down almost as quickly as it bubbled up into the forefront of his overworked brain.

"Hittin' it hard again, hah? You're mean, y/n. You're a bully. A learning bully. You're not gonna give in until I understand this shit, are ya?" He stood up from your desk and he gestured for you to follow him to your kitchen.

Your apartment was nothing special. But how you made the space your own was something that Baji always found so sweet and comforting. Of course, he'd never admit that to you. He is, after all, the first division Captain of Toman. Captains don't find things 'sweet.' They find them masculine and bloody. That's what everyone from the outside looking in thought, anyway. Though, no matter how hard he tried to ignore the pull you and your apartment had on him, he always found himself wishing he was back here, with you, in this little bubble of mild contentment you'd created.

He was relaxed when he was with you. Save for right now. But you were trying to help him study for his midterm. Any other time he's been here, he always felt safe. Maybe even small, for lack of a better descriptor, when he is anything but 'small' in any sense of the word.

"You really do have a mean streak in you, you know that?" He teased as you both walked into your kitchen. "But you're right. I need a break from that book. My eyes are crossing and it's starting to give me a headache."

"Do you want a couple of tylenol? I think I have ibuprofen, too. Anything I can do to help you with this, Keisuke. It's my job, after all. Use me however you need to to get this through that stubborn head of yours." You smiled so cute at him that he had a difficult time not telling you what he really wanted to use you for.

"Maybe I'll take you up on that. But first, can I ask you something kinda weird?" He sat down on one of the bar stools at the counter and you followed suit, sitting next to him.

"Of course! Anything, Kei." You rubbed your fingers up and down your forearm, a nervous habit. Even still, you assumed it was a question about the math you were helping him study. "What's up?"

"So, like, I know you're not into me in that way. Right? And that's fine. You've made that very clear. But, like, if you were...into me, I mean, into someone … hypothetically, I mean, what kind of person do you think you would be into? Like, are you more into the nerdy type, or the bad boy type, or, like, the artsy type?"

You didn't really understand where this was going. But you decided to humor him. "Well, I guess I've always been pretty attracted to the bad boy type. But that doesn't mean I wouldn't go for someone who was nerdy, too. It all depends on the person, you know? I have to like them first and foremost. Like, just because I see some bad boy doing bad boy stuff doesn't mean I'll fall to my knees and s-"

Baji choked on his tea, spitting it all over you in the process of trying to control the amount of liquid that was coming out of his mouth.

"Oh fuck! I'm so sorry, y/n! Gahhhd damn it. I am so sorry!" He grabbed the roll of paper towels from the counter by the sink and tore some off to frantically wipe your chest.

"K-Kei! Oh my god! Stop! It's ok! I'm at home, I can easily change my shirt. Don't worry about ... about it. You yell so much. Geez."

You hopped off of the stool and went back to your bedroom to find a shirt to change into. As you did so, Baji felt his stomach turn. He knew he shouldn't have asked you that. It was stupid and immature. But he couldn't help it. He'd had a crush on you for so long that he just needed to know if he had a chance in hell with you or not. But, as he'd guessed, you weren't interested in him that way.

He waited for you to come back to the kitchen before apologizing again. "I really am sorry, y/n. I don't know what came over me. I was just, I dunno, asking for a friend. And then you started to say that if you saw someone doing something that you’d fall to your knees and …" He waved his hand in the air as if to clear what he was going to say away before it’d even had a chance to see the light of day. “And I choked and blew my tea all over you.”

You giggled and shook your head, smiling at him. "It's ok, Kei. You're a little clumsy, but you're still really sweet. I like hanging out - I mean, you know. Helping you study. I enjoy your company, regardless of what we're doing."

"Y/n? I really wanna kih-" He blushed and looked away from you before he thought you saw his face turn a pretty shade of pink.

"You what, Kei?" You leaned around him a little to get his attention. "What do you want, Baji? You can tell me. We're friends."

FRIENDS 

"Oh, y-yeah. Of course we're ... friends. Yeah. Well, let's get back to the math, then. C'mon." His heart, smile and morale sank as he headed back to your room with you.

Meanwhile, you were left to wonder what he was going to say. What did he want to 'kih'? Kiss? Oh, no. It couldn't be that. Right? Maybe he just wanted to kick your butt for making fun of his pronunciation earlier ... even though your face was the only thing giving away the fact you were getting quite a bit of entertainment from that. He wouldn't have noticed that. Right?

You followed him back to your bedroom and decided to keep quiet about the whole thing. You couldn't imagine that he would want to kiss you. You were just his tutor. And he was so cool. He had cool friends, girls practically fell at his feet when he walked by them. He couldn't possibly have feelings for you, right?

Oh, but he did. He really did. He was mad for you. He wanted nothing more than to pull you into his lap and kiss you senseless. But that couldn't happen. He couldn't ruin the time you spent together. It was precious to him, even though he knew you saw it as nothing more than a job.

The next hour of your time together was spent studying right from the book. There was no talking, no joking, just Baji finally getting to work. It was a welcome change for you. It meant you could focus on your task at hand and not worry about him trying to distract you with his unfinished sentences.

He was still so frustrated. But he was starting to make progress. He was starting to understand what you were trying to teach him. He just wished he could show you how he felt.

As you helped him work through the last of the 4 problems he had to do, he tried to come up with a way to say it. To tell you how he really felt. He was never good at words. Action was his strength. "I'm not sure about par-parallelograms? Is that how you say it? I'm so fucking sick of that long ass word. It's so stupid. Why couldn't they just say a special type of quadrilateral that has both pairs of opposite sides parallel and equal. That word is like 73 letters long. I hate it. It's so fucking annoying, y/n. Jesus."

You clapped and jumped a little where you stood, your tits bounced and his eyes went right to them. "Yes! Yes, Kei! Good! Good job!" You jumped into his arms and hugged him so tightly, burying your face in his neck, (accidentally) inhaling his scent. "I knew you could ..." you pulled your face back from him and looked into his brown eyes. "I knew you could do it ... Keisuke. Mmm ... Kei-suk-e. You ..." you breathed the words out heavily and found yourself staring at his full lips. That sly smile, his sharp teeth. Pain never looked so appealing. 

Your heart stopped in your chest when he threw the math book across the room and it slammed into your wall with a loud thud. Before you had time to process what was happening, his hands were in your hair and his lips were on yours.

You'd been so stupid for someone who taught other people things. So stupid to not see how he felt. And now, here he was, kissing you like he needed you to breathe. You reached up and pulled his long black hair back from his face and returned the kiss with just as much intensity.

"I'm sorry I didn't say anything, y/n. I didn't think you'd want me that way. I'm just a dumbass with no future. You're so smart and pretty and funny and ... and I just can't believe you're actually kissing me back right now."

You shook your head and smiled. "I'm sorry! I didn't realize what was happening, Kei. You're not as good at hiding your feelings as you think. You should have just said something, though. This whole time we've been studying everything together, we could have been ..."

"... fucking like rabbits?" He laughed, but his eyes were serious.

You reached down and unbuttoned his jeans. "You know, it's not nice to talk to your tutor like that. But Baji, you've made a lot of progress tonight. I think you deserve a reward."

He picked you up and laid you down on your bed. "Oh yeah? And what kind of reward do you think I deserve, y/n?"

You reached over to your bedside table and turned on your neon pink LED lights. "The best kind, Kei. You've earned it."

"Fuck, y/n. You are so hot. I can't wait to fuck you so hard you forget everything you've ever taught me. We’ll have to have some more lessons. Is that ok with you?"

You nodded as you pulled your shirt up and over your head. "That sounds like a wonderful idea. We can even work on your pronunciation. You're a bit of a mess with your consonants."

He kissed you again and smiled. "Y/n, oh my god, shut up ... you're the worst." He pulled his pants down and straddled you, his cock rock hard and ready for you. "But you're also the best. I can't wait to make you mine."

"Kei, you're already mine." You reached up and cupped his cheek, pulling him in for another kiss. "Now ... teach me something.” 

@darkstarlight82 @katshimizuu @kazutora-kurokawa @southside-otaku @arlerts-angel

[livindeadgirlgrav]

Are they ass, tits or thigh’s for Vincent Sinclair and Charles lee ray (seperetly) with fem reader

It can be as filthy as you want

Ooooooooo okay! This is definitely going to be fun! Alsoooo this is my first time writing for Charles lee ray!! I'll try not to disappoint

Warning: NSFW! violence, bad language, kidnapped, Stockholm syndrome, just evil slasher men lol, mature themes/content. 18+, filthyyyyy👀👀 nastttyyyyyy

Vincent Sinclair

Vinny is an everything man. He loves you for you buuuuuut if he did have to pick a favorite its probably a tie between your thighs and breast.

Vincent enjoys holding your thigh when he sits beside you. He will consistently grip your thighs and rub his thumb across your smooth skin. Now when you two are alone Vincent loves to kiss up and down your thighs, occasionally nipping at your skin.

When it comes to your breast Vincent loves to grope them. He loves how soft and squishy they are under his rough hands.

He will definitely suck your breast hard, leaving hickeys all over your chest. He enjoys playing with your nipples and seeing how you gasp when he tugs on your nipples with his teeth.

Secretly this man is very kinky. He very much enjoys sitting on top of you, ripping your T-shirt off to reveal your soft chest. He'll pin your arms above you head but if you move he is quick to tie them down with a rag. Once your hands are out of the way he'll grab one of the many candles within his room and drip the hot wax onto your delicate breast, down your stomach, and on your inner thigh.

Vincent loves to fuck your breast, he enjoys the softness and loves to look down at you, watching you please him in such a way turns him on even more.

When you two are having sex, Vincent loves to have your legs on his shoulders. He loves gripping onto your thighs and having the options to bite and kiss them while he thrust into you.

Vincent also loves to use your thighs to push himself deeper into you. And trust he loves pushing your legs above your head thrusting deeper into you, watching your face scrunch up in pleasure.

Vincent tends to forget how tight he holds onto your thighs and breast so at the end of the night you are typically left with a couple finger prints and bruises.

Vincent loves it when you go bra less, its easier for him to run his hands up your shirt and tug at your breast but it's definitely hard to keep his attention for all of it goes to your freed breast.

His favorite position is cowgirl; He loves watching your breast bounce up and down while he rubs your thighs, occasionally gripping them hard enough to leave marks. He also loves to warm his cock within you as he sucks your breast but trust he wont leave the other one unattended, his hand will quickly tug at your nipples and grope at your breast. Then he will switch after a few minutes now sucking on the one he was tugging at and now rubbing the one he was sucking.

It drives him crazy when you wear shorts or skirts and v-neck shirts or shirts that just showoff your breast.

Vincent also gives the best massages, he has no problem rubbing your legs and thighs. And hey he'll massage your breast too

Charles Lee Ray

Charles Lee Ray has to be an ass guy!

I'm pretty sure this man would take anything you give him but in booty we trust.

He constantly slaps and gropes your ass daily

If you are wearing a skirt or a dress he has no problem hiking the skirt up to grab your bare ass or just see it in your black panties.

Very much prefer you wear thongs he loves having easy access.

This man loves back shots! He enjoys gripping onto your waist and slapping your ass as he slams himself inside you.

One of his many favorite positions is reverse cowgirl, he loves watching your beautiful ass bounce up and down on his cock.

Charles loves anal, he loves how tight your ass is and enjoys the sweet moans and groans to make as he takes his time sliding into you.

Will eat you out any day of the week and trust he loves leaving bite marks on your ass and enjoys feeling you tremble underneath him as his licks up your valley. (you know exactly what I'm talking about)

Charles loves to punish you, mainly spanking you. He loves watching how your ass jiggles with each slap. He also loves seeing how red your ass can get, he thinks its pretty seeing his hand prints left behind on your soft skin.

Thank you for reading!!! I hope you guys enjoyed and I hope I didn't disappoint with Charles Lee Ray I really did enjoy writing for him! Thank you tons for the request! <3

[il0veaphr0dite]

FIRST TIME’S

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REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

A/N: thank you all for the likes on my posts! im so happy that you guys have been enjoying my work😭🫶🏽 i tried a lil bit of Minhos pov this time. Enjoy!!

SUMMARY: Minho’s friends are noticing how he pays extra attention to you and encourage him to talk to you.

PARING: shy!fem!reader x Minho

WARNINGS: nothing fluff❤️

WORD COUNT: 1367

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Quiet, is what the gladers described you as.

You came into the glade 3 months ago, scared and alone. You didn't talk to anyone when you got out of the box, but, when you did it was only a few words.

It was weird for everyone to have a girl around, multiple gladers hit on you but realized it was no use when you wouldn't respond.

And when it came time to pick a job, you chose to be a Gardner. Ever since you first tried it out, you liked how it kept your mind off the fact that you were stuck in the maze.

Everyone who worked in the gardens knew you didn't like talking much, so they mostly left you to yourself, which you were grateful for.

You just finished your work in the gardens and made your way to the kitchens, you didn't eat lunch earlier so you were starving.

You grabbed a plate of Frypan’s ham sandwich and hurriedly sat down. You took a bite of the sandwich, silently thanking Frypan for his cooking skills.

You went to take another bite when you felt eyes on you. You were used to getting stared at since you were, you know, the only girl.

But this felt different. You couldn't quite describe it. You soon chose to ignore it and continued eating.

On the other end of the stare was Minho. He hadn't touched his sandwich since he saw you enter, too occupied watching you.

“Dude, stop staring it's creepy” Ben set his sandwich back on his plate, still chewing.

Minho broke his gaze, turning to Ben, “I don't know what you're talking about”, eventually picking up his sandwich and taking a bite.

“She’s going to notice soon that a random dude is staring at her,” he said, soon following Minho’s actions and taking a bite out of his sandwich.

Minho proceeded to ignore him, when Newt sat down across from Minho and Ben, setting his plate down.

“Hey Shanks, what's going on?” Minho watched as Newt took a bite out of his sandwich.

“Just eating with a creep who likes to stare at people” Ben responded jokingly causing Minho to roll his eyes.

Newt raises his brows in confusion “What are you talking about?” he asks.

“Minho’s been staring at Y/N ever since she stepped foot in here.”

“I know, this isn’t the first time,” Newt explains. “He’s been doing this ever since she came up in that box,”

Newt wasn't lying. Minho had been paying extra attention to you ever since you came to the glade.

He liked how you were in your own world, and never seemed to be bothered by anyone.

The following weeks after you came up, he couldn't understand why he couldn't stop watching you, and furthermore why his heart beat every time he saw you.

He soon found himself telling Frypan to save an extra plate for you because he noticed how you woke up late most of the time and missed breakfast.

And while Minho did all that, Newt was watching him. He could tell how he felt about you.

“Why haven’t I noticed then?” Ben's eyes widened at the new information.

“I dunno, maybe cause you’re a slinthead” Newt spoke before taking another bite out of his sandwich.

Ben raised his hand into a fist threateningly, causing Newt to put his hands up in defeat. “You should ask her to sit with us tomorrow,” Ben suggested lowering his fist.

“I dunno..” Minho said, uncertain.

Ben nudged him slightly with his elbow. “Come on”

Soon Newt found himself joining in, “What could possibly happen?”

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And so that day Minho found himself asking you to sit with them.

You were in the gardens planting tomato seeds. You put the bag of seeds down to tuck your hair behind your ear when you see a pair of boots in front of you.

It was Minho.

He came back from the maze to see you working in the gardens, remembering what Ben and Newt said, he gathered the courage to ask you.

You stood up from your kneeling position, brushing you pants off.

“Hey uhh, Would you, maybe, want to sit with me and a couple of other gladers during dinner?” Minho asked, hoping his nervousness wasn't showing.

You were more than surprised, you were dumbfounded. You would have expected anyone to ask you that, but not Minho. Your heart was beating and you couldn't understand why.

You knew who he was. I mean, the man was gorgeous with his black hair and buff arms and he knows it. He had an amazing smile and furthermore, he was a runner.

So why was he asking you, a quiet girl who barley speaks, to have dinner with him and his friends?

You didn't know why.

“I..uhh..sure,” you said barely above a whisper.

“Okay, well I'll see you at, uhm, dinner” Minho kept his composure before turning around.

He couldn't believe it. You said yes. He made a mental note to thank Ben and Newt later.

He walked to the map room grinning from ear to ear.

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Later that day, Minho found himself waiting for you at the same table with Newt across from him and Ben to his left.

“What if she doesn't come?” Minho said, bouncing his leg up and down.

“Minho, it's dinner, where else would she go?” Ben rolled his eyes as Newt laughed at his response.

Minho’s leg stopped bouncing as he caught sight of you. You walked towards them with a ham sandwich (again) making eye contact with Minho.

Ben and Newt followed Minho’s gaze to you walking towards them.

“uhm..hi” you said, holding your plate awkwardly.

“Hey Y/N”

“Hey”

Newt and Ben looked at Minho, waiting for him to reply to you.

“Hey” he finally met out.

Newt patted the spot next to him. You sat next to him and set down your plate, and soon after that the conversation between them began to flow.

“I only tripped one time!” Ben argued.

Newt and Minho laughed before Newt continued“I saw you trip at least five times and that was this week alone”

You found yourself joining in the laughter.

“Come on Y/N!, not you too,” Ben said in defeat.

You laughed, “I'm sorry, I can't help it.

He watched you, laughing, he’d never seen anything so beautiful. You'd always been so quiet, this was the first time he'd seen you laugh.

Ben nudged him in the arm “You're staring” he whispered.

Minho quickly looked away, not wanting to seem creepy.

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After a while, you all cleaned up. You were all planning to take a walk together but Ben and Newt said they had to leave so it was just you and Minho.

You and Minho were now walking together.

“How was the maze?” you asked softly.

That was the second time Minho had heard you speak above a whisper today. The first being when you apologized to Ben earlier.

“It was the same, nothing new yet. How were the gardens?”

“Nothing new either unless you find planting tomatoes interesting”

Minho chuckled. This was now the first time Minho had heard you tell a joke. It seemed he heard a lot of first’s today.

It turned silent after that. Not an awkward silence, a comfortable one.

You felt Minho’s fingers brush against yours as your fingers interlocked.

He turned towards you to find you blushing.

This had now been the first time he saw you blushing.

“I was wondering, uhm, would you want to go on a date with me?” he asked “ Only if you want to I'm not going to make you do anything you-”

“I’d love to,” you said.

He stopped walking and turned towards you.

“Okay..well, uhm, great”

“Yeah,” you said giggling.

You look up, locking eyes with him.

You wrap your arms around his waist as he wraps his around your shoulder.

Minho lifts his head to see Newt and Ben hiding behind a tree. “Shuck”

“What?” She questions.

“Nothing” He looks back at Ben and Newt to see them giving him a thumbs up.

A smile grew on his face.

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[atlabeth]

greener grass | luke castellan

i recommend reading bleedin me dry before this as this is the au to that!

summary: what if you left with luke that day in the woods?

a/n: would just like to give a HUGE thank you for the massive amount of support on my luke fic!! and another huge thank you to all you angst demons because why do you want more of it. i mean i get it but why. anyways here’s a different path of actually accepting luke’s offer like so many of you said you would instantly fold lmao i hope you enjoy

wc: 3.2k

warning(s): fem!daughter of demeter reader. luke is his own warning. kind of unhealthy relationship, weird vibes all around

The stars were brighter than ever tonight. 

It was one of the first things that stuck out to you when you got to camp, and it was one of the first things that you noticed when you first got on the road with Luke. 

You’d always loved the stars. They were a rare sight coming from the city, such a sign of nature and purity that it honestly shouldn’t have been a surprise when you were claimed. You still remembered the shock that went through you when you first saw what a night sky free of pollution could be, and you still remembered the first time you risked your life with the harpies just to spend the night star-gazing. 

And you could never forget the first time you dragged Luke along with you, his wry protests falling on deaf ears though he grinned the entire way down to the beach, his hand laced in yours.  

Gods. 

Luke. 

Even the thought of him these days was enough to make your heart clench, a slight shiver run down your spine, and you weren’t fully sure as to why. 

You loved him. You ran away with him. Every path that led you here, you willingly chose to walk down. 

But you still questioned every second of every godsdamned day if they were the right decisions. Especially now, as you sat alone in front of the fire, carefully stoking it with one of the few dry sticks you’d been able to find after taking shelter—in your own haphazard tent made of vines and tree trunks and any other bits of nature you’d managed to sprout from the ground with your powers—to wait out a rainstorm. 

You decided to spend the night, deciding that traveling through the darkness was too risky after the last monster attack, but the minutes couldn’t have been creeping by slower. If being in nature didn’t quite literally fuel you, you knew you would be far more miserable than you already were.

You loved Luke with all your heart, and if he was willing to potentially throw off his entire plan just so he could bring you with him, then he had to love you the same. You owed him this, at least, to not abandon him. 

You— you didn’t want to serve Kronos, but you didn’t want to serve the gods, either. Your mother abandoned you before you were old enough to know what the word meant, leaving you on your father’s doorstep swaddled in blankets and with a note that he still had to this day. 

Demeter left your father to raise you on his own, left you to live the half-life of a half-blood, and hardly paid attention to you since. She didn’t help you when you were on the road to camp with your satyr, wondering if every bump in the night would be your end, and she let you feel worthless for an entire year before she finally decided you were deserving of her claim.

Or maybe she just finally remembered you existed. 

You understood Luke’s anger—you felt it yourself more than you liked to admit—but the path he was on was a dangerous one. You doubted you could take him off of it, but you could keep him safe, and you could prevent more damage. That was all you cared about at this point. 

How long you could walk this line was an entirely different question. 

You sensed him before you heard him even lost in your thoughts, but the snapping of twigs still made your breath catch for a moment. You kept your gaze on the fire as you spoke. 

“Anything?” 

“These woods are surprisingly bare for the time of year,” Luke said as he set his backpack on the ground, kneeling down to rifle through it. “I feel like Artemis is punishing me.” 

“Well, she doesn’t exactly have a reason to help you,” you said wryly. You gestured with your head towards the miniature orchard you’d been making at each one of your camps—one pro of your parentage was that you—hopefully—wouldn’t ever starve on the road. You’d been growing plants since you realized you could, so it was practically second nature at this point. “Fruit’s on the menu, if you’re interested.” 

Luke chuckled as he walked over, and as he plucked a perfectly ripe strawberry, he glanced at you. “Feeling nostalgic?” 

You shrugged. You wondered which of your siblings would be in charge of the strawberries with you gone. You hoped Mr. D wouldn’t give it to one of his kids. “Do you blame me?” 

“Not at all.” He popped it into his mouth then took an apple from the smallest tree you’d been able to grow. “It was home for us both, for a while.” 

You bit your lip. It still was your home—it had been for the past four years. You wanted to go back eventually, but you felt like you had sealed your coffin by going with Luke. Would they ever welcome you back, knowing you willingly followed him into the darkness?

“How long do you think we’ll be on the road?” you asked, finally looking over at him as he sat down across from you. “Not that I don’t enjoy being with you, but… it’s not exactly the safest.”

“At least another week or two,” Luke said. You tried your hardest to keep your expression even as he settled the full force of his gaze on you—you couldn’t deal with the scrutiny. “I need to make sure they’ve lost our trail. The last thing we need is a questing group on our asses.”

You huffed a laugh. “You think they’ll actually send anyone after us?”

Luke shrugged. “If all went well, camp is in total disarray. If it didn’t, they still know I’m with Kronos. I can’t imagine Chiron would take that lightly. And,” he inclined his head, “I did kidnap you.”

You scoffed. “You didn’t kidnap me.”

“They’ll probably think so,” he said, and there was something strange in his eyes. “Doesn’t make sense for you to come with me willingly.”

This again. “Luke—”

“I know,” he said, a slight smile on his lips. There wasn’t much heart in it. “You don’t have to explain yourself again.”

“I just don’t want you to think I’m not with you,” you said. “I— I am. I’m only here for you, Luke.”

His eyes softened. “You mean it?”

“I do,” you nodded. “I couldn’t just leave you.”

“I don’t take any of this lightly, you know.” His eyes never wavered from yours, the orange light flickering across his face and casting a devilish shadow. “You being here means the world. Nothing’s gonna happen to you—I’ll make sure of it.”

“I’m not just gonna lay you out to dry, either,” you said wryly. “We’ll protect each other. Like we always have.”

“Exactly,” Luke affirmed. He bit into the apple he’d seemingly forgot about, and you looked up at the sky in the resulting silence.

It felt like your mind always drifted back to camp, back to your siblings and friends and the victims of Luke’s crusade.

Your summer siblings who would come back next year and wonder where you went, your year-rounders waking up the next morning and all the mornings after with a discontented glance at your bed. 

How long would it take for them to forget you? For you to just be another lost demigod in the camp files?

And poor Annabeth Chase. Luke practically raised her, and he walked out on her without a word—you considered yourself lucky he didn’t do the same to you, and you had no idea what awaited you on your path together. 

The gods had never been one for listening, and certainly not to you, but you hoped at least one of them would look down on you. Maybe your mother could provide some of that wizened second child advice, shine her favor on you for the first time in your life.

Well. You doubted Demeter would very much appreciate your quasi-support of the titan that ate her. The thing you should have considered yourself lucky for was that your powers still worked. 

Luke brought you back to Earth by saying your name, and your gaze snapped back down to meet his. His scar seemed especially grisly in the firelight, at odds with the softness of his expression—something that felt all too rare these days. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asked. 

“What else could possibly be on it?” you asked wryly, tossing the stick you’d been fiddling with into the fire. It crackled as the flames devoured it, something so out of its realm thrust into it anyways. 

“Stupid question,” he admitted. 

“We’re practically fugitives, Luke,” you said. “We have monsters after us, and possibly people from camp. We left everyone behind. I’m with you, trust me, but— but I can’t just get over it all as easily as you.”

“And I get that,” he said. “This—” he sighed and shook his head— “you really don’t know how much you being here means to me. I thought I was going to be out on my own on all this.”

Your throat bobbed. You’d never tell him, but you didn’t even know what your answer was going to be until the words left your mouth.

“And you’re telling me that you’d still choose them over me?”

“No,” you said. “I wouldn’t.”

Luke’s eyes softened and your throat felt like it was closing up.

“Then come with me,” he whispered. “We will change the world together.”

“I can’t,” you asserted. “I can’t just leave everyone behind— I’d be leaving my entire life behind, Luke!”

“You’ll help them more this way,” Luke insisted. “The gods aren’t on our side—we’re here so they don’t have to pay attention to us. If we want anything to change for the better, we’re gonna have to do it ourselves.” 

You bit your lip, and he brushed a strand of hair out of your face. 

“I wouldn’t ask you this if I didn’t think you were right for it,” he murmured, tilting his head as he gazed into your eyes. “Your mother’s never bothered to see you before. I’m gonna make her see you.” 

“How?” you asked, hating the hints of desperation coloring your voice. 

“You’ll see,” he said. “But we’re gonna do something so big that no one’s going to be able to ignore us.” 

Memories of the past four years flashed through your mind, but the two at the forefront were ones with Luke and ones without your mother. 

He’d always been there for you, even when Demeter—especially when she wasn’t.

You couldn’t just leave him on his own. Not when he was baring his soul to you—not when his quest for greatness included it for you too. 

Not when he was the first boy you ever loved, the one who brought you back from the god-induced edge. 

“…Okay,” you said, the word feeling like an ultimatum the moment it left your lips. “Okay. I’ll go with you.” 

He stared at you for a second like he didn’t hear you, or rather like he didn’t actually believe it. And then he broke out into a grin. 

“Really?” 

“Yes, really,” you said. “Have I ever lied to you?” 

“Go to your cabin and pack your bags,” Luke said, still unable to control his exuberant expression. We’ll meet each other at the top of the hill.” 

“Right now?” 

Luke nodded. “Only a couple hours until we’re harpy feed. Everyone’ll think we’re just leaving for the school year.” 

“You’ve always been a year-rounder,” you said. “Won’t people—” 

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “No one’ll think anything of it. We just have to get out before anyone asks any questions.” 

“Luke,” you murmured, “are you—” 

Luke cut you off with a blazing kiss, the same kind of fire in his eyes when he pulled away, a slight smile on his lips at leaving you breathless. 

“I’m sure,” he whispered. “You’re not going to regret this. I promise.” 

It was all you could do to stare up at him, his grip on your arms the only thing keeping you upright for a solid moment. 

“Go,” he said. “Take your time—don’t draw any suspicion. I’ll meet you there.”

“You’re really sure?” you asked, finally able to form words. “Really really sure? About this, a— and me?” 

He cupped your cheek, tracing his thumb along your jaw. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life than I am about you.” 

Leaving camp was insane—when Luke told you of Kronos’s plans, it was even more insane—but it had always been you and Luke. He’d been such a huge part of your life, ever since you first came to camp, that you couldn’t imagine yourself without him. 

And when you looked back at him, illuminated by the fire, you were sure of at least one thing. 

You weren’t leaving any time soon. Not when you could still fix all of this. 

A yawn got the better of you, and you felt Luke’s eyes on you as you covered your mouth with a fist. 

“You should get to sleep,” he said. “It’s been a long day.” 

“It’s been a long day for both of us,” you said. “We both had to get here—and you were the one who wandered around in the woods for two hours trying to hunt.” 

“How do you know I wandered?” Luke asked, setting the apple core down on the ground next to him. “You weren’t there. Maybe I had a very respectable saunter and just came up with nothing.” 

You chuckled. “The trees speak to me.” 

“Really?” he asked, clearly amused. “And what did they say?” 

“That you’re an awful hunter,” you mused, “and you should be very thankful that your girlfriend is good at everything.” 

Luke smirked and got up to start walking towards you. “Your ever-knowledgeable trees should know that I already know.” He kneeled down in front of you, a slight smile curling on your lips. “And that I am very thankful.” 

He pressed a heated kiss to your lips, and you reciprocated, looping an arm around him to keep him close before you pulled away. 

“It’s always good to hear it,” you murmured. 

“I’ll say it as many times as you need,” he assured. Luke stole another kiss then gestured towards your makeshift tent. “But you do need to get some sleep. We’re picking up at first light.” 

Your smile wavered. “We’ve been moving break-neck for a week already. Are you sure we can’t ease up?” 

“Soon,” Luke promised. “I told you, I just want to make sure we’ve lost any tails. We can’t afford that right now.” 

He must have seen the change in your expression, because his eyes softened and he took your hand. “It won’t be like this forever, babe. You can handle it.” 

“It doesn’t mean I want to,” you said dryly, but you sighed as you squeezed his hand. “I’ll turn in if you do too.” 

“Anything for you,” Luke said with a smile. You chuckled and shook your head as you stood up, and Luke grabbed his backpack before he went over to the tent with you. 

Your meager belongings weren’t much. You’d stuffed all the demigod essentials, some outfits, and a sleeping bag in your pack before hightailing it to Thalia’s tree, and Luke hadn’t packed much more—but at least it was light traveling. 

Every night had been spent in the same way, sharing your sleeping bag as you got what precious sleep Luke allocated before you were back on the road again. You were sure the only thing that got you through each early rising was his soft touches and easy murmured words. 

You laid down, staring up at the roof of brambles and bark, and you twisted your hand just so to make them twist away from each other for a small opening. 

Luke raised an eyebrow at you as he zipped his bag up, still crouched on the ground. “What’s that for?” 

You shrugged. “I’ve always liked sleeping under the stars.” 

Again, that small smile. It could still make you melt, even now. “I remember. I just hope it doesn’t start raining again.” 

“Like rain’ll be the worst thing we’ve dealt with,” you said wryly. “Besides, I can feel it in the air. We’re gonna be fine.”

“Yeah,” he said. “We are.” 

You glanced over and he was looking at you. You patted the spot next to you. 

“C’mon,” you said. “I’m cold.” 

“Oh, we can’t have that,” he said, amused, and he huddled in next to you. You let out a contented sigh as his body heat sunk into you, and he draped an arm across you to pull you closer. 

“That better?” he asked. 

You hummed in response. “Thank you.” 

“Always.” 

You closed your eyes as you exhaled deeply, trying your best to unwind the tension in every part of your body. You weren’t used to trekking miles every day, eating rations you’d packed from camp or gas station food from whenever you ended up close to town, only having the woods and the sky and Luke for company. It was starting to wear on you, but you weren’t going to let Luke know. 

“I love you,” Luke said suddenly, breaking the silence, his breath tickling your neck. Your eyes snapped open. “You know that, right?” 

A moment passed before you murmured, “I know.” 

You could feel some of the tension leave his body, and he adjusted his position to be closer to you. 

“Good.” 

His curls brushed against your skin as he rested his head in the crook of your neck. Luke was a comforting presence behind you, like an anchor in the choppy waters you’d thrown yourself into, but it… it just felt different than the countless other times. 

But that was only natural. You were back on the road, living the way you did when you first made the trip to Camp Half-blood with your satyr. Of course it felt different than the crowded chaos of the Hermes cabin, or the beach underneath a tapestry of stars, or your own bed at the behest of your siblings. The only thing that stayed the same was the scent of nature, and the scent of Luke. 

Things were different, yes, but you knew that would happen. Luke was different, but you knew that would happen—half the reason you came along with him was because you wanted to make sure he had a lifeline, a way to come back to shore when he decided his crusade was over. 

Because it had to be over eventually. He would decide that there was no way you could beat the gods, that it wasn’t worth killing himself over some meaningless mission. The gods had never cared about you before—you didn’t know why they would care about some half-baked rebellion by two of their least favorite kids. 

You loved Luke. He loved you. You told yourself that was all that mattered, because you were in this together now. 

For better or for worse. 

[dipperscavern]

just rewatched season 2 episode 10 of suits and all i can think of is getting stoned with harvey 🫠

U ARE ME I AM YOU WTF I WAS JUST

seeing him light that blunt just. changed my brain chemistry.

just thinking about blowing off some steam w harvey. seeing the contours of his jaw define & the veins on his hands become visible as he puts the blunt between his lips, raising a lighter to it.

you pass it back and forth, until you start to feel all warm and fuzzy — and you begin to notice how comfortable his lap looks. downright inviting.

it’s not just you, though. harvey can’t keep his eyes off you, and the small distance between your places on the couch is the only reason harvey is keeping his hands off you.

you both have been sickeningly in love with each other for a while now, aggravating everyone around you with the way you both refuse to confess. the both of you have an annoying amount of self control, and maybe you just need an opportunity to let that slip. a final push over the edge.

you’re gorgeous. harvey can feel his self restrain slipping. you’re staring up at him with those eyes of yours.

“You’re so pretty.”

harvey gives himself credit for how long he held back. but damn, you should really watch that mouth of yours.

he’s almost embarrassed with how fast he leans forward (no he’s not), hand coming to cradle your jaw as his lips connect with yours. your hazy state of mind amplifies everything by 100%, and you don’t think you’ve ever felt anything so good. you weren’t harvey’s first kiss, but god-damn does he want you to be his last.

(i am 100% writing a full on lil thing to this in the morning)

[irissfoot]

actually devastated sapphicdrpepper’s acount got deactivated and on christmas two

[paradlselost]

BOLD AND BRAVE

john seed x fem!deputy

smut warning. no explicit consent given. choking. hair pulling. biting. fingering. some oral (f receiving). p in v.

4.8k words.

Soft sounds echoed off the wooden walls of the secluded cabin, walls that had heard far too much, that would sooner be chopped to pieces and shoved through a chipper than be allowed to spill the secrets it held. John Seed was a holy man, and cleanliness was close to godliness, so he made sure never to leave things unkempt. Nothing ever had a trace of him, even his glasses back at the ranch were cleaned of fingerprints every night. Call it germophobia, call it paranoia, whatever plagued his thoughts when he was alone in the comfort of his pressed silk sheets didn’t seem to leave him now either.

Though more pressing matters seemed to be on at the forefront as he pressed her head down against the pillow, the small grunts that usually escaped his lips at this point didn’t bother trying, he was too busy in his mind. He shouldn’t be doing this, he knew that fornication wasn’t allowed, and as a Herald, he had to make an example for others, though that had never stopped him before. Now only contempt nipped at the back of his neck where unrequited love bites had been left. Sure, he could be upset at how Joseph wouldn’t be happy if he found out his little brother went against the cult rules, but that didn’t seem to be it either.

He stopped himself suddenly, not even bothering to let himself finish. It was a shocking act for even him. John Seed, silver tongue of the cult who always took what he wanted not even caring for his satisfaction? Well, it certainly seemed to shock the woman under him, who turned to look at him through her eyelashes.

“Why’d you stop?” Her voice called up to him, a whine in her tone that made his stomach churn. He looked at her with disgust in his sharp blue eyes, a look she had not been accustomed to from him. “What’s your problem?”

She sat up now, pulling a loose sheet over her exposed body as she tilted her head at him. She was a beauty, really, she was, but that didn’t seem to be enough for him tonight. Sure, John felt a little bad for how he constantly treated her, but her own beauty didn’t do it for him anymore. He needed something he felt he couldn’t outrightly take, he would seem far too pathetic if he chased after what he really wanted, so he settled for a shotty substitute.

“Did you cut your hair?”

She gave him a quizzical look, raising an eyebrow. Maybe it was a compliment? He noticed something other than the quickest way to rip her shirt off this time. “I did, do you like it?”

“How many times have I told you not to change the way you look, Holly?”

His words were sharp as he sat on the edge of the bed, pulling on his jeans with a glare in her direction, it seemed neither of them would be able to finish tonight. She scrunched her nose up at his words. It wasn’t rare for him to be an asshole to her, in fact, it was becoming a much more common occurrence with the recent resistance pushback against the cult, but she still didn’t appreciate his tone.

“I don’t know why you’ve been so adamant about it lately. I wanted to try something new, what do you care?”

She scoffed as she stood up, letting the sheet fall off her body as she grabbed her shirt and underwear, pulling them on. John reached out and roughly grabbed her wrist, making her turn to look at him. He had never put a hand on her without them both being in the middle of John getting his rocks off in her bed or against her wall or vanity, and his sudden touch startled her.

Good, that’s what he wanted to see. The Pepper girl seemed to forget her place constantly, John was a Herald, she was just someone attractive he could see from time to time to release pent-up frustrations.

“You don't look like her anymore. Your hair frames your face differently now.”

Holly scoffed at him, pulling her wrist away from his reach. She never really cared about being more than a fling to him, she liked the distraction it gave her from the newfound loneliness she felt in this cottage and maybe sometimes she did wish he wouldn’t see someone else when he slept with her, that he wouldn’t moan someone else’s name when he fucked her, but she ultimately knew it would go nowhere with him. John Seed was a man obsessed with someone she couldn’t be.

“Who, the Deputy? Well, news flash, I’m not her.”

“I know you’re not, but it's not a crime for me to pretend, and you changing up your hair doesn’t fucking help the vision.”

“The vision.” She scoffed, crossing her arms at him. Her tone was one of mocking, like he was stupid for even dreaming she could fill the role of the one person he couldn’t have. No, because if it wasn’t her hair today then it would be her legs tomorrow, that they weren’t as toned as the Deputy’s, or that her eyes weren’t the right shade. It was constantly ‘Deputy this, Deputy that.’ But Holly Pepper wasn’t enough. “I think you should leave.”

“I’m gone.”

She didn’t have to convince him to rebutton his silk blue shirt or throw on his belt with the large ‘EG’ buckle on it. She didn’t need to persuade him to tie his boots and walk out her front door, into the cool Montana night, he simply left. Trekking down the dirt trail and getting into his car, he slammed the door shut and took off through the wooded back paths. He absolutely despised driving on anything other than the clearly marked main roads, especially when it was dark. He made special exceptions for the nights he went to visit Holly, but being that he didn’t finish, his anger was only elevated.

A truck passed, headlights shining into his windshield and honking as he swerved out of the way to avoid being hit, grumbling curses under his breath that he certainly would have to atone for later, but he would happily do it when he was back in the comfort of his warm, lavish ranch. The truck was the only other car on the road, and through his headlights, he could tell he was going the wrong way. Another curse, this time to himself, no way was he allowing himself to get lost in the middle of fucking nowhere redneck woods. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he pulled over to the nearest building he could find, a clinic. Silently, he hoped someone in there didn’t particularly hate him and would give him directions.

He pulled over with a huff, looking around his car for a map, and without seeing one, opened the door and got out, slamming it behind him. The evening air was cool, and unlike when he had left the Pepper residence, he was able to now take a breath and calm himself down. Though he doubted too many people were around at this time of night, he still wasn’t a fan of making a spectacle of himself when just trying to get directions. Gravel crunched underneath his boots as he made his way to the door, hand stopping just short of the handle as he heard a voice.

“I wouldn’t bother trying to get service right now.”

He didn’t need to turn to know who was speaking to him, he could feel the air still around him at the sound of her voice, the one person he hadn’t expected to see, not after he had falsely assumed he put the fear of god into her, not after he carved the sin out of her chest and forced her to display it for everyone who came across her. Her own personal scarlet letter, though this one being born of the crimson her blood was.

“Hello, Wrath. What are you doing here at this hour?”

He kept his tone friendly and light as he stepped over to the wall beside her, tilting his head down at her. She leaned against the brick, a cigarette hanging loosely from her lips as she watched him. He put on a facade, his silver tongue making a comeback as he spoke to her, though he knew well that she wouldn’t fall for his words. The best he could hope for was for her to relax slightly, to let him speak without drawing a weapon, and, at the lack of Peggies surrounding their ever-so-holy leader, she seemed to do just that.

“Just saw Nick and Kim off. Despite you and your peggies constant terror, it seems some good finally came to the Rye household.”

“Ah, so Kim delivered fine then?”

“Mmhm.”

“I should send a present, something for the little tyke.”

“Yeah right.” He earned a little laugh from her, even if it was sarcastic, he couldn’t help the small smirk that etched onto his features at her voice. Yes, John Seed was a man obsessed with someone he couldn’t have. “Kim told me you tried to convince everyone the baby was actually yours and not Nick’s.”

“I was just having some fun, they shouldn’t have taken it so seriously. Besides, that was months ago.” He shook his head, leaning back against the wall beside her, his goal of going to ask for directions now gone as he was in her presence. Despite his nature, she consumed his every waking moment. Every thought of his belonged to her, every word he spoke had her name etched onto it. He was pathetic.

“I’m sure it just added to the list of things you’ve done to fuck with them.” The Deputy rolled her eyes, amber ash falling from the head of the cigarette and onto the ground below them. He liked watching her supple lips part to welcome the taste of nicotine into her mouth.

“I’m a Herald, Deputy, everything I do is for the good of others.”

“Mm, remember the time you told me you’ve never lied to me?”

“Yes? What about it?”

“There's a lie right there.”

He smirked slightly, watching her with his deep blue eyes, and shook his head. He couldn’t help the way his heart fluttered in his chest at this moment. There was no chase, no cat and mouse game, just the two of them standing underneath the moonlight, with no one but god as their witness. “Well, what if I believe it's true?”

“Then you’re a liar and you’re delusional.” She hummed, looking back at him. There was a silence for a moment as she offered him her cigarette, a certain intimacy in his lips touching the filter where hers had before. He felt like a schoolboy again, though this time without the threat of his parents looming over him.

The crickets chirped around them as they took turns with the cigarette, it seemed to be a peaceful night. After a moment or two, she let him have the last of what was left in the bud and stepped forward towards her truck. Curiously, he stamped the cigarette out and followed after her.

“Where are you going?” He asked, sounding almost pathetic, like a puppy kicked away from the door his owner was walking out of. He craved this normalcy with her more than he thought he would, though part of him yearned to get back to the cat-and-mouse games.

“The Spread Eagle, probably. Gonna chase down the nicotine high with some of Mary May’s whiskey.” She shrugged as she opened the door to her truck, moving her AR-C aside and disturbing the indents of where Boomer always slept during long rides through the county.

He watched her body as she bent over to move her gun from the seat, how her hips swayed slightly. He bit his bottom lip slightly, his blue eyes never leaving her figure. Part of him yearned for his life before he reunited with Joseph. Maybe he wasn’t truly happy then, and maybe the Deputy incited withdrawals from him that he thought he had gotten over years ago, but alcohol sounded great right now.

“You seem so quick to leave my company. You’re always like this, I open my arms to you, let you into my bunker, and offer you atonement, but you’re always itching to leave. Do I make you uncomfortable?” He tilted his head as she stood up, turning to face the Herald once more.

He didn’t bother hiding the fact he had been staring at her ass for the better half of a minute, nor did her care about subduing his tone that was increasingly growing more and more lustful as he stepped closer to her. He wanted to feel her under his touch, to smell the gunpowder and blood that lingered on her. This time, it would really be the Deputy, he wouldn’t have to pretend.

“Let me into your bunker? Last time I checked you had your Peggies shoot me with bliss bullets and strap me to a chair there. You don’t exactly have a warm and welcoming nature, Seed.” She replied, crossing her arms slightly. He knew she was quickly losing her patience with him when she referred to him only by his last name.

“I just want you to reach atonement, Deputy. I want you to be better, for yourself, for the father.” His voice dropped to a whisper as he stepped closer to her, so close he could lean into her ear to speak. She grimaced slightly at the mention of the Father - Joseph.

“You don’t need to call him that, he’s your brother. And you shouldn’t speak to me about atonement, who gave you those marks on the back of your neck?”

He blinked a few times at her words, reaching his hand back to feel the indents that had been left. He hissed softly, of course, Holly had left marks without his say-so. She seemed to enjoy doing what he told her not to. Not to change her appearance so he could imagine it was the woman in front of him he was fucking, not to leave marks that he would have to explain to his followers - or worse, his brothers. But did she listen? No.

“Not you.”

Now it was the Deputy’s turn to be confused, her eyes fluttering up to meet his dark blue ones. She cocked her head to the side slightly, just enough to really examine him. He seemed confident in his words, but of course it wasn’t her, what was he trying to get out of this? “Yeah, obviously? Are you feeling okay, Seed?”

Again with the last name, it was starting to get on his nerves. He wanted nothing more than to grab her at this moment, to press her against the peeling upholstery of the old truck she drove around, to make her scream his name for everyone to hear - for her to call him not by a shared surname, but by his name. And suddenly he understood Adam and Eve, with a snake tempting him so sweetly, he’d be a fool not to take a bite of the apple, wouldn’t he?

“Why can’t you just say Yes, Deputy? Why do you have to make this so difficult? Why do you have to make me stoop into the sin you so freely roll around in?” He cocked his head to the side slightly, taking a step closer to her. His leg slid between hers as she pressed herself back against the side of the seat.

But she didn’t tell him no this time, she didn’t shove him off or slap him. He heard the breath that caught in her throat, he saw the way her eyes fluttered between his and the skin of his chest exposed by the undone buttons of his silk shirt. Sloth, written over his chest, crossed out. How would the scarred skin feel under her touch? How would the ink of the countless tattoos on his body be complimented by the scratches she would leave on him?

“You don’t need the ego boost, the day I say yes to a monster like you is the day my dignity dies.” Oh the Deputy, always a fighter. He would help her with that, gladly, a burial inside the truck for only John and God himself to witness. A small smirk played on his face as his hands trailed over her hips, a ghost of a touch but enough to ignite a fire in her eyes.

He wouldn’t need her to say yes, she would be screaming it by the time he was done. He would drag orgasm and orgasm out of her till her atonement was spelled in the arousal that would coat the truck's upholstery. He would make a saint out of her yet, make the only words that fall from her lips holy and pure till they were alone. She would never have to worry about the bullets that grazed her skin or the wounds that marked her flesh, he would wash away her sins.

So many dirty thoughts from the Herald, but he couldn’t control himself now. His hands belonged to the devil as they trailed up from her hips, one caressing her neck - which he would make sure to have covered with as many marks as he could by the time he was done with her - and the other slipping beneath her shirt. He tilted his head down at her, smug yet coy as his fingertips brushed the wire band of her bra, yet another barrier between the two.

Her eyes weren’t on him, though. They studied elsewhere, fixed on the door to the clinic and the road. What would others say if they saw the two together? Sharky and Adelaide had to have been just joking when they said she should get with the youngest Seed brother - that it would save the resistance’s ass. She bit her inner cheek, doubting that that would be the truth. John Seed was a sadistic monster who reveled in other's pain and suffering, but something about his touch made her want to melt.

“There’s nothing but me to look at, Deputy. For right now, you’re mine.”

If John was a man obsessed with someone he couldn’t have, the Deputy was cut from the same cloth. She couldn’t have him, not really, even if she accepted his atonement, even if he cut the sin from her body - John Seed would always be obsessed with an idea of her, she was his greatest conquest because she never said yes to him, and if she stopped fighting he would lose interest.

But tonight, under nothing but the moonlight and the roof of her truck? Tonight, she could have him.

So she didn’t protest when he stepped into her more, when he pushed her back against the worn seat and kissed her neck with the fervor of a man starved. She said nothing because her breathing spoke for her, the way it picked up and became laced with soft whimpers as he grazed his teeth over an old scar. Yes, he relished in her pain, he couldn’t help but smile at her burning in the cleansing fire of his love.

His fingers tangled in her hair, pulling it back to expose her neck. He sat up over top of her, a small smirk playing on his face as he looked down at her. She looked so pathetic under him, her neck colored in flushed pink and dark red, a product of him. He trailed a hand down over the forming hickeys, pressing his fingertips against the sides of her neck. Not enough to choke her, but enough for her to part her pretty lips to breathe through her mouth.

The Herald reveled in the power he had over her, her life balancing in the palm of his hand. It would be far too easy to kill her now, to make up for the anger he felt every time a silo was blown up or an outpost was overtaken. How easy everything would be if she gave her life force over to him, cutting the head off the snake that was the resistance.

But it was far more fun to keep her alive, to toy with her like a cat would a mouse, to shed her of her shirt and unclasp her bra and run his tongue against her sensitive, budding nipple. To relish in the sounds of her soft whines that overtook her breathing, to feel her fingers tangle in his slicked-back raven hair.

“Fuck.”

An understatement, her words breathy and sweet, as if she was reciting a prayer meant only for his ears. His blue eyes fluttered to look up at her, enjoying the way she looked down at him, lust building on her features. She would atone for him, but not with her words.

He trailed down her body, lips catching on every old scar and bullet wound, every imperfection left on her beautiful body. She would be cleansed of all of these when he was done with her, she would be born anew with him right by her side. His fingers caught on the waistband of her jeans, dirtied with blood and grass stains on the knees, not proper attire for her baptism, so he shed those from her as well.

Left in only her underwear, shivering against the cold that seeped into the truck, she looked down at him with a frown, grazing over the silk of his blue shirt. He was overdressed, though he made no moves to match her. With his head in line with her pelvis, he grasped the fingers that worked on his buttons, giving her a pointed look which she matched with a soft whine.

“Deputy.”

“John - c'mon, it's not fair…”

“I’ll decide what's fair and what’s not. When I want it to come off, it will. For now, hands off.”

A sigh left her lips but she complied with him, letting go of the buttons he wore and instead focusing on him as he moved lower, as his fingers trailed over the growing wetness seeping through her underwear. She recoiled slightly, feeling the cold of his fingers through the warm fabric, and was met only by a soft tsk from John.

He watched her, studied every reaction as he slipped off the last remaining article of clothing that blocked him from getting a full view of her. She was something out of an oil painting, crafted by God specifically for him. How had he gotten so lucky that she was his rival? How had they both gotten to this point, surely from the tensions built every time he would kidnap her, when he would clean her chest with a sponge to prepare for the marking he hadn’t gotten around to doing quite yet.

Grazing over her folds, catching her clit in his grasp, he relished in the sounds that the truck filled with. Soft gasps giving way to needy moans as he gathered her slick and coated his fingers in it. His eyes hungry as he peered up at her through his eyelashes, tongue swiping over her once and then twice before spitting. Her fingers tangled in his hair harshly as he pushed a finger inside before it was quickly joined by a second, humming when greeted by how tight her walls were.

“Funny, I expected you to have more experience.” He grinned, his perfect snake in the garden, reaping what she had sown. John had earned every hitch of her breath, every noise that fell from her lips belonged to him. Patience is a virtue, after all.

“Kinda ha-h… hard to get some privacy when you’re the resista- fuck!”

He couldn’t help but smirk as she was interrupted by the curling of his fingers, brushing against a certain bundle of nerves as he stretched her out in preparation for his cock. He hummed in response, teasing her. How sweet it was to have the big bad Deputy be putty in his hands. John absolutely adored the fact that he was her only in a long time, it stroked his ego lovingly.

When he was satisfied with the moans that fell from her lips and how she could hardly focus on anything other than the sensations he was providing her, he pulled out. Chuckling at a needy moan she gave him at the feeling of emptiness, he licked the coating of her slick from his fingers, tsking and looking down at her.

“Patience, Deputy. Be a good girl.” Once his fingers were properly cleaned and the taste of her arousal was set on his tongue nicely, he unbuckled his pants and allowed them to pool at his ankles, his lips fluttering over her exposed neck while he worked on pulling his shirt off.

Perfect tattoos decorated his body like the ceiling of a temple, each one telling a different story. John Seed was a man who had his life mapped out on each limb, allowing for her to trace all of him, to know all of him. He pulled away from her neck, bullying his two fingers past her lips and having her suck on them, tasting herself.

He focused on the way she sucked, how soft moans escaped her, and how her eyes fluttered closed, content to have this soft moment. God, he wanted to ruin it for her. He did not pull away yet, not as he ran the head of his hardened cock over her folds, precum mingling with her own fluids. When he did pull his fingers away from her, he made sure she watched as he lubed himself up with her saliva.

He could’ve come at the sharp gasp elicited from her as he pushed inside, inch by inch till he bottomed out and she was left in a state of bliss. He groaned softly at how perfect she was, how her walls were practically made for him, dragging every noise from his lips. The Deputy never thought she’d see the day when John Seed was moaning for anyone - especially not her. She considered herself lucky that the Herald was coming undone simply by the feeling of her.

Though, her smugness faded as he began to move. Shallow thrusts at first that were quickly replaced by deep, rhythmic movements. His mouth latched onto her neck once more, his teeth dragging over her soft skin in an effort to leave his bite markings against her pretty flesh. Her nails drug against his back, sharp, stinging scrapes that complimented the dark ink of his tattoos well. He never let others mark him as she had, but she was special - he would be proud to show off what she left on him.

Her legs wrapped against his waist, pulling him impossibly deeper inside her. She was practically screaming in his ear, the truck shaking with his movements. Thrust after thrust, he abused her G-spot well, toes curling and legs trembling in his wake. She pistoned her hips up to meet his, arching her back and letting him latch onto her breasts now.

“You gonna cum f’me?” He groaned out, blue eyes focused on how she shook, how her walls clenched around him at his words. She was close, teetering on the edge, and he wasn’t far behind her. Her nods weren’t good enough, neither were the little noises she attempted to choke out between her moans. No, he wanted to hear her speak. “Use your words.”

“Yes! Fuck - yes please-” Manners and all, he grinned at her response. He had gotten her to say it, just as he knew he would. That allusive ‘yes’ he had been waiting far too long to hear. He really couldn’t help himself now as a tattooed hand moved from her hips to rub her swollen clit.

Thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier, if this was heaven the Deputy was more than happy to atone for it. Her legs spasmed slightly, walls clenching around him as white toyed at her eyes, orgasm crashing down against him. It didn’t take much longer for him to follow suit, his own cum mixing with hers, white beading at the base of his cock as he pressed himself inside her, having her take him all.

She whined softly, panting and looking up at him with those pretty eyes of hers. His breath was heavy, fingers running through her hair as they both caught their breath, inevitable guilt creeping up in the Deputy’s chest. John Seed was the enemy, he was a monster, and she had just let him fuck her into the best orgasm of her life. Stupid, stupid.

But John, he seemed far too proud of himself. He didn’t need her to say anything anymore, he didn’t need the taped confession for his older brother. No, now he had this, her atonement that coated his softening cock. He would always have this over her, how she screamed yes for him, and she seemed to realize that.

“You know - that ‘yes’ doesn’t count.”

“Oh? Should I make you say it again?”

[qcswrites]

Sowing the Seeds of Love - Part I: Budding Love

*Edit* Teaser for Part II: Full Bloom is HERE :)

Synopsis: You have had feelings for Lo’ak for a long time and keep trying to gain his affection. However, Lo’ak is oblivious and takes no notice of your efforts. But someone else does….

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Omatikaya Reader (Aged 17/18)

Content: Romance, Fluff, Drama, Angst, Friends to Lovers

Warnings: Brief description of injury.

Word count: 7.1k

Author's note: It's been a WHILE but I'm back to writing :) Hope you enjoy it! Thanks @vivid-ink for sharing your wonderful work with us :)

Also on AO3: Sowing the seeds of love

It was calm, absorbing work, you thought, as you diligently wrapped the seeds in tìhawnuwll leaves, securing the ends with care so the wrap would not unravel easily. You had woken before dawn and spent the better part of the morning on all fours, gathering every last seed. Now, your limbs ached from your earlier efforts. But…pxorna seeds were his favourite.

“Leyna! Let’s go!” His voice startled you out of your reverie. Knowing what would happen next, you quickly swiped the wrap behind you, opening your arms to receive Txep just as he barrelled into you. He was a boy of only seven years but you still grunted at the force of the impact.

“Txep, careful!” You warned, glancing back at the food wrap you had spent the last hour carefully preparing. He only pouted, “Leyna, you promised!”

“Promised what—” you began, stopping yourself when you remembered that you were meant to be taking Txep out on your ikran today. He was right, you had promised him, you thought ruefully. 

“Txep, I’m sorry, I’ll take you another time, okay?” Your mother, sensing the tantrum that was bound to begin at hearing your words, swooped in, “Come, ma’parultsyip, sa’nu has prepared some yovo fruit for you.” You did not miss the pointed look she shot you over Txep’s shoulder as she gently ushered him over to the pile of peeled yovo fruit.

Looking down guiltily, you resumed your work, carefully arranging the tìhawnuwll leaves around the seeds, sealing the ends of the wrap with some lanutral resin to secure its contents. 

Rising from where you had spent the last hour diligently preparing and wrapping the seeds, you ran a hasty hand across your face, wiping away the beads of perspiration that had gathered there. Your hand stopped at the band holding your hair back, fiddling with the beads, hesitating for a moment before pulling the band in a swift motion, your braids spilling across your back and framing your face. That’s better, you thought with a small smile. Sa’nok had always said you looked prettier with your hair down. 

You reached for the wrap then, bidding your parents a hurried goodbye before climbing gingerly out of your swaynivi.

Your feet nimbly padded across the boughs of kelutral, your body remembering the familiar path by heart. 

Steadying your breaths and patting the wrap secured at your side, you entered the Sully family alcove, greeted immediately by Mo’at, preparing a paste, hands stilling on the pestle when she saw you standing at the archway. 

“Oel ngati kameie, Tsahìk,” you greeted, gazing fondly at the older woman. You had once found the woman painfully unnerving, with her enigmatic smiles and piercing stares. However, having recently become one of Mo’at’s apprentices at her request and spending many moons under her tutelage, you now found comfort in her words and even looked forward to your one-on-one lessons. 

“What brings you here, my child?” she asked. “Has the txumre’ venom caused you trouble?”

“No, Tsahìk, I—” You hesitated, gently removing the wrap from where you had secured it to your body. “I wanted to bring you the pxorna seeds I had gathered earlier.”

“Ah, how kind of you,” replied Mo’at, adding after a short pause, “My grandson is preparing to leave for morning patrol, so you may want to hurry.” She nodded at the food wrap. 

How did she know? Fighting the urge to defend yourself and further incriminate yourself in the process, you hurried past the older woman, not missing the wry smile on her face as she resumed her work. 

Stepping into the main alcove, you finally saw the man you had been waiting to see all morning, whose face had given you strength as you performed the strenuous task of gathering the seeds earlier that morning. 

“Leyna,” Lo’ak greeted, smiling handsomely at you before spotting the wrap in her hand. “Oh, what have you brought with you?”

“Oh nothing, just some pxorna seeds.”

“Pxorna seeds?” For the second time that morning, you felt yourself being pushed back with the force of another’s body as Lo’ak embraced you gleefully. “Oh, Leyna, this is why I love you!”

Great Mother, he really ought not to say such things to people in delicate states. Fighting to steady your racing heart, you patted his back gently, laughing softly at his reaction. “You and your food,” you muttered, unable to stop the fondness from creeping into your voice.

Lo’ak pulled back then to accept the carefully prepared wrap from your hands and looked down at you. You paused, waiting with bated breath as his gaze stilled. Was this the moment you had been waiting for?

“Wiya, I’m going to be late for patrol and Dad’s going to have my head.” Lo’ak turned away sharply from you, breaking the spell. “Sorry, Leyna, we’ll catch up later, okay?”

Nodding mutely, you watched as he checked for the dagger at his side before rushing out of the main alcove without a second glance. Feeling a little like the wind had been knocked out of you, you turned to leave the same way you had come before a voice stopped you. 

“I like pxorna seeds too, you know?” You turned to find Neteyam watching you, his expression inscrutable as always. “Not that you ever asked.”

“There’s enough here for everyone,” you managed, after a long pause. You had played together briefly as children, but it had been a long time since you had spoken at length. Neteyam had always seemed aloof, and the closeness of your families had nothing to ease the distance. 

“You know,” he began. “I love my brother—I would fight a palulukan for him—but he’s a bit of a fool, isn’t he?”

Huh. You stared at him, unable to make sense of his words.

“Morning patrol? That’s what he was thinking of?” He continued. “It’s okay to be upset, Leyna,” he added rather unhelpfully. 

You finally found your words. “What would I be upset about?” 

He gave you a pointed look, waiting for you to say it first.

You bristled at the implication. “By Eywa, I don’t know what it is you speak of but I should be going anyway—” 

“Don’t go.” You felt a cool hand clutch at your arm as you turned away. “Stay.”

“What are you—”

“You have feelings for my brother, yes?” He raised an eyebrow at you, adjusting your face gently to look at him properly.

“That’s not any of your concern!” You shot back in a terse whisper, glancing around anxiously, as if expecting a large crowd of onlookers. 

“My brother, he doesn’t see it.”

“What?”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he added, face morphing into one of, dare you say it, concern? “But I know him like the back of my hand.”

“I should go.”

Turning away from Neteyam abruptly, you found yourself mulling over what had been your longest exchange with him since you were children, as your feet traced the familiar path to your family alcove. Patting your cheeks self-consciously before stepping into your family alcove, you let out a small noise of frustration, knowing well that the heat on your cheeks had not waned in the slightest. 

***~~***

“Morning patrol? That’s what he was thinking of? The skxawng!”

“Ka’ni!” You gasped, outrage colouring your voice at your friend’s language.

“What?” 

“Lo’ak is not that,” you muttered. 

“How many moons have you spent together? How many times have you brought him his favourite food, now?” Ka’ni shook her head. “By Eywa, he’s a blind man if he cannot see it.”

“Would you hush?” You glanced furtively around at the others sitting by the river, noting that none had heard your friend’s outburst. 

Pausing for a moment, you added, “I haven’t even told you the rest.”

“There’s more?”

“Neteyam knows,” you began, lowering your voice, “He knows about Lo’ak.”

“Oh, Neteyam.” A lazy smile stretched across Ka’ni’s face. “We were on duty together the other day. By Eywa, the man is so handsome—even hanging upside down—that I almost forgot to catch the tumpasuk berries—” She broke off into an uncontrollable fit of giggles. 

“Ka’ni, focus!” 

“Sorry, sorry. So, he knows?” 

“Mhmm.” Catching the tail with one hand, you ran the blade of your dagger carefully under the skin, removing the scales in a swift stroke of the hand, willing yourself to not drown in the mortification that threatened to engulf you in that very moment. 

“What did he say?”

“Oh Ka’ni, I was so embarrassed. Don’t make me say it. He hardly ever speaks to me but this he chooses to say.”

Your friend nudged you again, eyes beseeching. 

“He said that Lo’ak ‘didn’t see it’” You finally admitted, the flush returning to your cheeks. As if your heart did not already hurt with that knowledge. 

“Kurkung!”

“Ka’ni!” You admonished. 

“Well, he is one,” she defended. 

“Weren’t you just telling me how handsome he was?” You shot back, waggling your eyebrows at her, finding some mirth in the situation. 

“What? Fine, a handsome one then!”

Before they could finish, a voice interrupted them. “Who’s the handsome one? Are you done with the fish?” One of the older women, Nikira, nodded at the mess that lay in front of you.

Flushing with embarrassment, you muttered a quick apology and resumed removing the scales with renewed vigour, not quite meeting her eyes. 

***~~***

You left kelutral, hand in hand with Txep, who bounced along happily. You glanced fondly at the boy as he swung your hands between you. His excitement was palpable, as it was the longest he had ever been silent. 

Txep had wanted to tame an ikran of his own from the time that he could start speaking, begging endlessly for someone to take him flying. Sa’nok and sempul had been especially protective of little Txep, long after the tawtute had been banished. Finally, he would get to ride with you on Pänu. 

Pushing past the leaves in front of you, you pulled Txep forward into the clearing. Letting go of his hand, you stepped forward and emitted a familiar call, the noise gurgling in your throat. You stood in the stillness of the clearing, waiting for the telltale sound of wind whipping as your ikran swooped down from the sky, landing with a soft thud on the shorn grass beneath your feet. 

Smiling fondly at the creature, you reached out to run a gentle hand across his face, “Tam tam, Pänu.” He let out a squawk, nuzzling into the palm of your hand.  

“Tewti!” Came a startled exclamation from Txep. “He’s so big!”

“He is, isn’t he, Txep?” You smiled. Reaching into the pouch strapped at your side, you pulled out a chunk of yerik meat, feeding it to Pänu.

Txep eagerly accepted the yerik meat, reaching up on his toes to feed Pänu, giggling sweetly when the creature licked his palm as it fed from his hand. 

“Going out flying?” 

Arranging your face carefully, you turned at the sound of the familiar voice, watching Txep carefully out of the corner of your eye as he continued feeding Pänu. “Yes, we are. What’s it to you?” 

Neteyam smiled faintly at your words, unfazed by the hostility in your tone. “Mind if I join?”

Before you could reply, Txep turned from Pänu, catching sight of Neteyam, a smile breaking out on his face before he ran eagerly towards the man. Shaking your head, you watched as Neteyam bent down to catch Txep in his arms. “Neteyam!” He cried gleefully. 

“So, can I join?” Neteyam asked, over Txep’s shoulder. “Txep, can I come flying with you and Leyna?” Txep eagerly nodded. 

Sighing at the memory of your last conversation and faced with Txep’s pleading face, you nodded tiredly. 

Fetching a cloth from the pouch at your side, you beckoned Txep forward. “I’m going to wrap you tightly, okay, Txep? You’ll hold on to me the whole time.” 

As you lifted Txep onto Pänu’s back, you heard the familiar sound of an ikran landing, glancing briefly at the patches of green and brown spanning its large body. Tìxtur, you remembered.

“Leyna,” Neteyam called suddenly, his voice lowered. 

Sensing that he wished to speak more privately with you, you backed away from Pänu, turning to face him, a questioning expression on your face. 

He twisted his hands together as he spoke. “I’m sorry, for the other day. I shouldn’t have said it.”

Your face softened slightly. “It’s okay,” you began slowly. “You didn’t say anything I didn’t already know. It’s stupid, really.”

“No, it’s not stupid. He is.” 

You giggled softly despite yourself. Of all the people to soothe your broken heart, Neteyam was the last one you expected. “I didn’t know you cared. I didn’t even realise you noticed my presence. This is the longest we’ve ever spoken, you know?” 

Amusement coloured his face. “I pay you plenty of attention. Maybe you are the one who doesn’t notice.”

Narrowing your eyes at the cryptic remark, you opened your mouth to respond only for him to swiftly pull down his ionar, launching Tìxtur into the sky. “Neteyam, you—”

Growling in frustration, you approached Pänu with quick strides, wrapping an impatient, squirming Txep with careful hands before making tsahyelu and urging Pänu to follow Neteyam circling the clearing above you. 

“Where are you taking us?” You shouted over the winds, as Neteyam flew away from kelutral in an unfamiliar direction. The man only smiled coyly at you before seemingly urging Tìxtur to fly faster. 

Txep let out a joyful squeal as you urged Pänu faster, trailing Tìxtur. Wrapping your free arm around Txep as an extra measure, you puzzled over where Neteyam was taking you, trying to catch a glimpse of a familiar sight in the blurring landscape beneath you. 

When Tìxtur eventually slowed, you followed in suit, bringing Pänu to land gently. Unwrapping the cloth that bound Txep to you and placing him on the ground, you took a moment to take in your surroundings for the first time, gasping at the sight. 

“By Eywa,” you breathed, eyes travelling over the vast expanse of the land around you, perfectly ensconced between towering mountain ranges on either side. Running along the centre of the land, was a river. You stepped forward, mesmerised by the sight of the water, a vivid lilac, swirling and eddying as it pushed against the rocks that littered the length of the river. You smiled, catching sight of little darts of movement in the water. Txep came forward, similarly affected, pointing excitedly at the flashes of light moving in the water. 

“It’s beautiful here, Neteyam,” you praised, turning to find him beaming at you. The unfamiliar sight caused your heart to race and that traitorous blush to return. Turning away self-consciously, you patted your cheeks insistently, willing your cheeks to cool. 

Txep tugged on your hand, pulling you closer along the river bank. When his eyes turned up towards you, you saw his question even before he asked. “No swimming, Txep. Look at the water. It’s going too fast.”

Txep pouted. “But, Leyna—” 

“Only your feet!” 

“Fine!”

You laughed softly as Txep rushed forward, before plopping himself down on the edge clumsily and sticking his feet in the water. 

You suddenly felt the heat of another’s body at your back, an involuntary shiver coming over you as Neteyam breath tickled the tips of your ears. “He’s the sweetest little one I’ve ever seen.”

“You should see him when sa’nok prepares teylu, pounces like a palulukan, that one.”

Neteyam laughed amiably. “I don’t doubt it. Tuk was much the same when she was younger.”

The two of you eventually found a comfortable place by the river, content to watch Txep wiggle his toes in the water in the distance and squeal excitedly as the fish swam past him. 

“How did you find this place?” You asked, after a long while of silence. 

“I like to fly by myself when I can find a spare moment. I usually circle kelutral for a bit and return but one day, I just didn’t stop,” he began. “And then I found this place.” 

“So, this is where you disappear off to in the evenings, then?” 

He looked surprised. 

“I pay attention,” you offered, feigning nonchalance. 

“So you do.” He smiled. 

Txep called out for them then, beckoning them over to the water. 

***~~***

“Don’t you have duties to attend to?” You teased, as Neteyam’s familiar face emerged from the surrounding vegetation. For moons now, he had sought you out, sometimes while you were tutoring Txep in archery or going out for a flight. Other evenings were spent in tranquil conversation in the woods surrounding kelutral, with the two of you even making trips to the valley every so often. 

“I’m a quick worker.” He looked around. “Where’s Txep, shouldn’t he be here for his lesson?”

You laughed ruefully. “Oh, Txep. He has finally tired of me and gone to play with his friends.”

“Were you going somewhere?” He nodded at your ionar, which sat ready on your forehead.

“Vitrautral,” you replied. “I was overcome this morning with the urge to seek the Great Mother’s guidance. She has called for me.” 

“I’ll come with you,” he said, adding quickly, “Unless you would rather be alone?”

You shook your head, placing some distance between the two of you before emitting the call for your ikran, watching as Neteyam did the same, quickly donning his own ionar. He was a handsome sight, you could not help but think in that moment, eyes lingering on his muscled forearms as he reached to caress Tìxtur’s face gently. Oh, if only Ka’ni could see you now. 

Shaking your head as if to rid yourself of the sudden, sensual realisation, you turned to face Pänu, cooing at him as you fed him. It was absurd. Neteyam did not think of you that way. Foolish, foolish girl. Hadn’t you learned your lesson already?

Had you turned around then, you would have caught the way his eyes slowly trailed the soft curves of your chest down to the dip of your waist and lean legs. But you were engrossed in the task of adjusting the saddle on Pänu and his telling gaze went unnoticed. 

Climbing on Pänu’s back, you urged him to take flight, Neteyam following closely behind. Slowly, you climbed higher into the sky, leaving kelutral behind you, weaving in and out through ayram alusìng. Turning mid flight to glance at Neteyam, who smiled when he felt your gaze on him before— you gasped, as Tìxtur sped right in Pänu’s direction, stopping only seconds before collison.

“You skxawng, what was that!” You cried out, heart racing, your own fear melding with Pänu’s. 

You heard his jovial laughter over the sound of wind buzzing in your ears. Shaking your head, you returned the gesture, urging Pänu to bank gently before making an abrupt turn, pushing Tìxtur right into a cool stream of water, pouring down the edge of a cliff. 

You giggled, watching as Neteyam emerged, drenched completely.  Spluttering, he called out, “I deserved that!”

There it was, that feeling, again. Fondness. 

***~~***

Landing at vitrautral, you felt an immediate sense of contentment fall over you, keenly aware of the Great Mother’s presence around you. Patting Pänu gently as you dismounted, you glanced over at Neteyam, as he did the same.

With his back turned, you could not help but gaze at the strong set of his body, eyes lingering on the muscles flexing in his back as he tugged at the saddle, breath catching in your throat as he turned slowly, eyes slipping lower down his frame—you were doing it again, foolish girl. 

You smiled softly at Neteyam as he approached you, placing your smaller hand in his firm grasp; it was just something you did now. You couldn’t pinpoint when it had started but he always reached for your hand first, sometimes just in passing, absentmindedly caressing the palm of your hand. You felt a familiar frisson of excitement at the contact, heart racing as he wound his fingers through yours. No, not again.

Neteyam led you across the base of the tree, nimbly skipping over the dense network of roots that covered the forest floor. A comfortable silence settled between the two of you as you let your palm slip from his grasp, approaching a cluster of bioluminescent tendrils which swayed gently in the cool evening breeze. 

Closing your eyes, you reached behind you for your neural queue, fingers brushing gently down the length of your braid until your fingertips felt the curling tendrils at the end. You brought it forward, eyes briefly opening to watch as the tendrils of your queue melded with that of the tree, both glowing brighter for a moment before settling. Tsaheylu. You took in slow, easy breaths as the familiar sensation settled over you. 

You opened your eyes then, eyes adjusting to the changed surroundings, which took on a dreamlike quality, shimmering gently in the fading light of the evening, almost as if you were watching the scene unfolding before you from afar as if it were a—what was it that the olo’eyktan called it? A ‘movie’, that was it. 

“Kaltxì, ma’evi. I was beginning to think you had forgotten me.”

You turned sharply, to find yourself faced with an older woman, eyes crinkling as a bright smile graced her face. 

“Grandmother,” you cried softly, running into her waiting arms, slotting yourself in the comfort of her embrace. How was it possible that she still smelled the way she always had in life? You breathed in her scent, a comforting blend of spices and apxangrr flour flooding your nostrils. Memories of afternoons spent at her side as child, ‘helping’ her prepare an assortment of cakes for the family rushed to the surface. “I could never forget you. Ngaytxoa, I should have come sooner.”

“Mawey, I am not upset, child,” she said softly. “You are young and you have your own life to live. Let me look at you.” You felt her gently untangle your arms and step back, eyes raking over you not unkindly. 

“You look well, child,” she said finally. “You have grown into a beautiful young woman.”

“Irayo,” you managed, squirming slightly under her scrutiny. “I have missed you, Grandmother.”

Reaching for your hands, she invited you to kneel on the ground, coming to sit by your side, brushing back your braids gently with a smile. “I have missed you too, my child.” 

Clearing your throat, you began, “I felt the Great Mother’s call. In truth, I have felt her call for many moons now.”

“The Great Mother senses your reluctance, child,” said your grandmother. “There is nothing to fear, she has a path for you, as does she for all her children.”

Feeling slightly chided, you nodded. “I am not a warrior, Grandmother. I have always known that.”

“No, that you are not, child. But your training with the tsahìk has been going well, has it not?”

Eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you nodded slowly. “It has, so I am to be a healer, then?”

A wry smile came across your grandmother. “All things will be revealed in their own time, child. You must be patient and trust in the Great Mother.”

A comfortable silence settled over the pair of you, as you mulled over the implications of her words. You longed for clarity that you knew you would not receive, not yet. But, you trusted in the Great Mother, and had faith that she would not lead you astray. But another thought niggled at you, emerging from the deep recesses of your mind, taunting you once more. 

Breathing slowly, you spoke, voice soft, almost inaudible, “And love? Will I have that?”

You could not meet her eyes as you asked the question, eyes trained firmly on your hands instead which twisted nervously in your lap. 

Your grandmother’s tinkling laugh reached your ears then. “Am I to be alone then? U-unmated?” You joked, the stutter in your voice undercutting your attempt at nonchalance. 

You felt a cool hand caressing your chin, tilting your head to the side. Eyes trained on you, your grandmother spoke again, “I can only tell you what Great Mother wishes for you to know. But your heart need not be so heavy, child. Know that you will not be alone.”

A hopeful glimmer shone in your eyes. “I will find love, then?”

She laughed softly in response, brushing her hand fondly across the curve of your cheek. “Oh child, there is so much yet that you do not understand.”

She stood then, hand slipping from your face as she moved to stand. A sudden panic enveloped you as you noticed the edges of her form flickering, the radiance of her image dullening. You jumped to your feet, reaching for her again, catching her fading hand in yours. “Grandmother—”

“I must go now, child.” She squeezed your hand gently. “But, to answer your question…you already have it.”

“Have what—” You never got to finish the question as her form slipped from your grasp, vanishing into thin air, your palm tingling where her warm hand had rested only seconds ago. You felt a sudden pull then, almost as if someone were dragging your body underwater, the ambient sounds of the forest growing muffled and your vision blurring, sending another surge of panic through you as you fought against the force.

Gasping for breath, you came to on the forest floor, chest heaving as you took in your surroundings. You were no longer knelt on the ground and as the rest of your senses returned, you felt a strong chest at your back and muscled arms holding you in a firm embrace. “Oh, Leyna,” you heard Neteyam say, his relief palpable.  “You scared me.” 

You froze as a warm pair of lips pressed against your forehead. “I’m okay,” you croaked, hands coming around to brush against his own where they gripped your waist. “What happened?”

Neteyam let out a shuddering breath, his disquiet evident. “I was praying, then I looked over at you. I knew something was wrong from the way you were shivering. And then, you starting shaking. You—” He broke off with a harsh intake of breath. “You should have seen yourself. Your eyes were open, but you were not seeing anything. I was so scared, I pulled you away.” He nodded at the cluster of bioluminescent tendrils where you had been connected to before, and the end of your braid which lay limply on the forest floor. 

Heart clenching at the pain in his voice, you turned in his arms, nuzzling into the crook of his neck. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” you murmured. “I’m here.” You pressed yourself as close as possible to the warmth of his body, feeling his breaths tickle the tips of your ears as he melted into your embrace. Breathing in his familiar scent, you felt a calm wash over you, hoping he gleaned the same comfort in turn from the closeness of your bodies. 

You already have it, a hallowed voice whispered. 

***~~***

You stood at the gates leading to kelutral, body thrumming with anticipation, accompanied by the other apprentices and a throng of eager spectators awaiting the arrival of the hunting party. 

*FLASHBACK* 

A shawl wrapped firmly around your shoulders, you quickly descended the central staircase of kelutral. The sky was still dark, the path to the pa’li pen only dimly lit by flickering flames at regular posts. You were normally not an early riser, but today was different. Dawn marked the start of the Great Hunt, and the hunting party would ride out to the river beds encircling kelutral soon.

As second-in-command, Neteyam was due to lead the hunting party in preparation for his eventual assumption of the duties of the leader of the clan. Neteyam was an accomplished hunter with impeccable precision in his aim; you had no doubt that he would succeed in procuring a handsome volume of talioang meat for the clan. It was more so the general chaos that ensued during these hunts that filled your heart with fear. It was not uncommon for hunters to be knocked off their pa’li, or even trampled brutally to the death. 

And so, you found yourself sneaking out in the darkness to meet him once more before dawn. Your plans for a clandestine meeting had almost been foiled by Txep; the boy had always been a light-sleeper. Your heart had caught in your throat as he shifted. By the Great Mother’s grace, he had stilled, the sound of his soft snores resuming. 

You neared the pa’li pen now, the growing din of voices signalling their presence. Your eyes searched furtively for Neteyam, confusion growing as you failed to locate him. 

A hand touched the small of your back then, and you did not need to turn to know who it was. “Neteyam,” you breathed, a smile breaking out on your face. The sight of his handsome face almost instantly assuaging the anxiety that had plagued you in the hours before, turning restlessly in your hammock. 

“Leyna,” he greeted, reaching for your hand to lead you away from the rest of the group. 

Secluded from prying eyes, you reached for him, arms winding around his broad chest, feeling irrationally annoyed at the firm material of his cummerbund which deprived you of fully feeling his skin against yours. You did not realise it, but your hands were quivering slightly where they gripped the skin of his back. 

“Paskalin,” he crooned. “You are shaking.”

“I’m just worried,” you mumbled into the skin of his chest. “It’s dangerous.”

“I know, I know,” he murmured, tightening his hold on you. “But I always come back.”

You said nothing in response, too distracted by the glorious feeling of being in his arms. The affectionate names, embraces, kisses on foreheads and cheeks. Surely, you were not the only one who felt something shifting between the two of you? Your relationship had spent many weeks, many moons really, now teetering on the edge of friendship and something more. 

His voice interrupted your stream of thoughts. “Paskalin,” he called again, urging you to look at him. “Do you trust me?”

“Of course.”

“Then, trust that I will come back—” Sensing your immediate objection, he added, “—in good health.”

*END OF FLASHBACK* 

The hunting party was late. Dusk was falling rapidly and the air was bereft of the jubilant cries of the returning party, as they transported the day’s kills back to kelutral in preparation for the feast. With every minute that passed in silence, the sense of foreboding that had plagued you since the night before grew more heightened.

“Be calm, sister,” said Olin, one the other apprentices. “They will return soon.”

You, along with Mo’at’s other apprentices, had spent the better part of the last few weeks preparing healing salves, brews and other implements in preparation for this day. But still, it did not feel enough. Something terrible had happened. 

Finally, the ground beneath your feet thrummed with vibrations from the pa’li and  you heard the distant calls of the hunting party. A sigh of relief was shared by the group waiting at the gates. 

But, when the returning party became visible, your eyes narrowed. Lo’ak was in the front, leading the party, a grim expression on his face. No, no, no, no.

You strode up to the group as they closed in on the gates. “Where is Neteyam?” You demanded, eyes flitting back and forth, scanning for his familiar face. The group parted in the middle slowly, revealing a lone pa’li with—you gasped—Neteyam’s prone body flung across its back. The rider shared Lo’ak’s pained expression as he slowly pulled Neteyam’s body down from the pa’li. You walked slowly towards him, an almost other-worldly experience, as the rest of the world blurred and grew muted in the wake of your horror. 

“Neteyam,” you cried softly, kneeling down on the ground next to his form, caressing his face, willing him to wake at the sound of your voice. You felt a wetness drip onto your leg, looking down to see the red liquid drip from his side down to where your knees were pressed against him. A sudden rage flared low in your belly as you perceived the cause of his condition: an arrow lodged in his side. 

Standing quickly, you rounded on the group, fury blazing your golden orbs as you addressed them. “Who did this?”

Slowly, with trepidation, one of the men stepped forward, Iren, his stricken expression as good as a confession. “You!” You cried, approaching him in quick strides, only to be obstructed by a solid chest as Lo’ak stopped you, his hands gentle but firm. “Leyna,” he warned. “It was a mistake. He did not mean—”

Snarling, you turned, gesturing for two of the hunters to come closer. “Carry him to the healer’s alcove. He is losing blood while we waste time.” 

Iren stepped forward, a silent offer to help on his lips. 

Shielding Neteyam’s body with your own, you shook your head furiously. “Kehe,” you hissed. “You have done enough.”

Not waiting to hear his response, you turned to follow the men carrying Neteyam, Olin and the other apprentices close on your heels. Anger was good. Better than the horror that threatened to swallow you whole. 

***~~***

With trembling hands, you brushed the fletching of the arrow, knowing what had to be done but grimacing at the thought nonetheless. You wished more than ever that Mo’at was here to guide you but she lay prone on the other side of the wall, having been afflicted herself with a searing fever a few nights before the hunt, and still only in the early stages of recovery. You have trained for this. You can do this. 

“Olin,” you guided. “Hold his chest steady as I remove the arrow. He will wake when I start to pull it out and he will shift as it comes out. Any movement could dislodge the arrow and cause more damage.”

Olin nodded slowly, settling her hands on either side of his neck and pressing down with enough force to keep him still. Taking in a deep breath, you began tugging the arrow out of where it had buried itself in Neteyam’s flesh. 

He woke soon with a pained moan, hand coming to grip your side painfully as Olin held him down. 

With a final pull, you removed the arrow in its entirety, flinging it to the side and reaching for the clean cloths you had laid out by his side. Within seconds, the cloth was soaked with this blood and your heart raced as you reached for more cloths. You sent a silent prayer to Eywa as you knelt by his side. Please save him, I can’t do this without him. I love him. 

After what felt like an eternity, you felt the bleeding slow at the site of the wound, noting with relief that he was breathing more steadily than he had been before. Applying a cleansing salve to the site, you fetched your stitching implements. Fortunately, Neteyam had drifted off as the blood clotted at the wound site. 

Olin resumed her spot at his side, prepared to restrain him if he woke while you began carefully stitching the wound closed. But, he did not stir, finally succumbing to the exhaustion of the day and his injury. After cleaning and applying a dressing, you slumped back against the alcove wall, feeling drained of almost everything you had. 

Just as you closed your eyes, you were startled by the sound of clattering feet as a group of the younger girls burst into the alcove space where you had been treating Neteyam. 

“By Eywa, he’s alive!”

“He’s still so handsome, even when he’s hurt!”

“—what a stupid thing to say, how could you—”

Having heard enough of their insipid bickering, you cleared your throat. When they did not hear, you raised your voice, anger flaring once more, “Have your sa’sem not raised you to know better? He is a person, not a piece of meat. Ogling at the man while he lays in his sickbed. Get out, GET OUT!”

Throat hoarse from shouting, you fell back against the alcove wall, body slipping down its surface until you reached the floor. The girls left the alcove, duly chastened, and you let out a sigh of relief. Neteyam appeared undisturbed, slumbering peacefully in the corner. 

Crawling over to his form, you knelt by his side again, gently brushing back his braids, tears welling in your eyes as you took in the sight of his face, complexion pallid from blood loss. 

Unable to stop yourself, you whispered the words that had rattled in your chest for moons, desperate for release. “Nga yawne lu oer.”

***~~***

You diligently gathered the cloths soiled from his blood which lay strewn haphazardly across the alcove floor. You gathered each one before placing it in the wash basket to be taken to the river the next morning. 

The family had been to visit Neteyam in the hours since his injury. After catching the stricken expressions on their faces when Neteyam slept through the entire visit, you sent them away, promising that you would call for them when he woke. You had sent Olin away too, seeing no reason for the two of you to go hungry when there was an abundance of taliolang meat being prepared for the feast. In truth, you could not stomach anything if you tried.

To pass the time, you had begun chopping up roots to be added to your stores of healing salves. The roots were strangely-shaped, sharp thorns littering their sides, making it a task that required strict concentration which suited you just fine. Anything to distract yourself from the unconscious man in the corner of the alcove.

So engrossed in your work, that you did not catch the beginnings of the man stirring as he woke. Only when his pained moans reached your ears did you become aware of his state of wakefulness. 

Abandoning the heap of roots on the chopping board, you sprung forward. 

“Neteyam,” you cried, reaching his side. “No, don’t pull yourself up just yet. You’ll tear the stitches at your side!”

Backing down, he relaxed against the alcove floor. “What happened?” He croaked, voice gravelly from disuse. 

Biting your lip, you hesitated. “You were shot.”

Confusion coloured his face, “I was shot?”

Willing yourself not to give into the blinding rage that had consumed you before, you continued, “You were shot by one of the other hunters.”

“By mistake,” you added, grimacing internally when it came out as a hiss. 

“Can I guess?” He asked. “Was it Iren?”

You gasped, “How did you know?”

Sighing, he continued, “Iren is, well, not the best shot. I have worked with him for many moons now—” He coughed. “—but he is a slow learner.”

“Then why did you allow him to join the hunt?”

He shot you a pointed look. “He needs to learn, paskalin.”

“He almost killed you,” you hissed. “He deserves to have his bow snapped in half!”

Neteyam, paying no mind to your instructions, lifted himself up into a sitting position. 

“What are you doing—”

“Leyna,” he sighed. “You’re being cruel. He’s a boy, still. He will make mistakes and he will learn.”

You felt a fresh surge of anger at his words. “I’m being cruel?  He can go make his mistakes on someone else, then! Because, I can’t lose you—” You broke off with a hitching sob. “—there was so much blood. I thought you were gone and I can’t—” You felt strong arms pull you forward.

“Neteyam,” you protested, trying to shift away. “Your wound—”

“It can wait,” he said hotly. “Stay.”

You acquiesced, nuzzling into the crook of his neck, crying with abandon now. 

“It’s okay, yawntu,” he murmured, rubbing your back in slow circles. “I’m here, I’m okay.”

Relishing the feel of his embrace, you breathed in his familiar scent. Thank you, Great Mother. You felt your eyelids grow heavy, at ease for the first time in many hours. 

Moments before you slipped into a slumber, his voice stopped you. “I love you too.”

“What?” Your eyes blinked open, startled. 

Pulling back to look at you, “I love you too, paskalin” he repeated, a smile growing on his face.

Comprehension dawned on you. “You heard me.”

“I did. Did you not mean for me to know? Or was it for someone else?” He teased.

“You—you’re unbelievable,” you laughed softly. “So, is that—I mean, are we—”

“Are we courting?” He waggled his eyebrows, wincing slightly from the pain as he shifted his body. 

“Careful,” you chided. “And yes, that,” you added, squirming under the heat of his gaze, which was positively lascivious now. 

He did not respond, choosing instead to press his lips against yours. You laughed softly against his lips, sighing as they moved to trail across your skin, moving slowly down the slender curve of your neck. 

“Neteyam,” you sighed, flushed from the heat of his kisses. 

“You really shouldn’t say my name like that,” he murmured against your skin. “It’ll give me ideas.”

Pulling his head back up, you fused your lips with his again in a searing kiss, feeling a pulsing want between your legs. A pleasurable heat coursed through your body, and you were consumed by the need to press yourself completely against his body, to remove the fabrics that lay between you, to be nake—Neteyam let out a pained gasp.

You pulled back sharply, hands running down his body, checking for further injury. “I’m so sorry,” you said softly. “I shouldn’t have—I got carried away.”

“You don’t ever apologise for that,” he laughed softly. “I’m okay, see?”

You were not convinced, backing away from his body, not trusting yourself to keep from hurting him. 

“Don’t do that,” he pouted. “Come back.”

“No,” you said firmly. “Actually, no more kissing until you’ve recovered.”

That earned another round of complaints from him. You laughed, turning your back to him as you resumed restocking the medicinal stores. Neteyam loved you. You smiled quietly to yourself as you cleared the space, and arranged the medicinal packs carefully along the space in the wall. 

“You know,” he said, after a brief silence. “I wouldn’t take offence if you felt the need to do some ogling.”

“What?”

“I’m just saying,” he continued, trying and failing to contain a smile. “Since kissing’s off the table and all that—”

“Y-you heard that?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Just how long were you asleep for, then?”

“Can’t say.”

“Neteyam.”

“I could be your piece of meat,” he added in a lilting voice. 

“Au, you’re ridiculous.” 

[dedicatednotobsessed]

The Mark of the Dragon [Aegon Targaryen x Reader]

Previous chapter || Series masterlist || Other HOTD stories [requests open]

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🔥A/N: I apologize for this chapter being shorter than I wanted it to be. I also meant to publish it in the eight weeks that the show was airing but life stuff got in the way. 😅 I hope you enjoy nonetheless though xx 🔥

Summary: You grew up on the streets of Fleabottom for the majority of your life being orphaned at the young age of ten. Apart from your striking hair color, the only thing you inherited from your family was a birthmark on the back of your left shoulder blade. On the week of festivities to celebrate the King’s eldest, Aegon the Second, you end up encountering him. You help him forget about his duties of being Prince and Heir to the Iron Throne until one fateful night…. [AU based where Aegon was crowned heir instead of Rhaenyra].

Warnings in this chapter: None.

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Chapter III

Your hands clutched onto Aegon’s cloak that was still wrapped around you, watching him whisper to a young boy before handing him a green velvet pouch, the boy running off shortly afterward. 

“You told them you only had fifteen hundred,” You whispered, furrowing your brows. 

“I lied.” Aegon turned to you, sighing at your state. Come.”

You looked down at his outstretched hand before taking it, your other hand clutching his cloak. You let him lead you to the tub, which was already filled with water and scented oils. 

“You can trust me,” Aegon whispered when he tried to move your hand from the cloak.

You met his violet eyes, and a sense of security washed over you. You knew from the tales you have heard of the eldest Prince that he was vulgar and crude, yet you felt protected by him. You reluctantly let go of his cloak, and after he slowly tugged it off your body, you quickly wrapped your arms around your chest to save the dignity you had left. He took your forearm, leading you over to the tub. Your eyes scanned over the water, glistening slightly from the candlelight, before up at Aegon when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

Aegon said nothing, moving his hand down your arm and intertwining his fingers with yours. He helped you in the tub before kneeling behind it and rolling up the sleeves of his tunic to his elbows. 

“Why are you doing this?” You asked softly, tugging your knees to your chest. 

He kept silent momentarily, pouring the jug of water down your hair. “I am simply paying back your kindness.”

Your brows knitted together in confusion. “I don’t understand, my prince.”

“Don’t call me that,” He snapped before letting out a deep breath through his nose. “Please, call me Aegon when we are alone.”

You nodded slowly, feeling his fingers run through your hair. “I don’t understand how you are paying back my kindness…Aegon.” His name felt foreign on your tongue, as though it was a forbidden word you couldn’t utter.

Aegon stilled his hands—the prince seemed deep in thought for a brief moment—before responding, “You treated me as though I was any other person. Not some royal.” He said the title with a hint of disgust in his voice.

You sighed softly. “A title does not define a person.”

“If only everyone had similar views,” Aegon mumbled, beginning to ring out your hair. 

The only noise that went through the chambers for a moment was the swishing of the water before you felt his fingers run over the back of your left shoulder, moving your hair to drape across your right shoulder. Upon your skin was a deep purple mark stretching across your shoulder, a mark in the shape of a dragon’s head.

“Were you born with this?” His voice was soft, his touch even softer as his fingers danced over your mark.

“I was,” you replied while taking a deep breath. “It is the only thing I have left of my father.”

You turned to meet his violet eyes, the water sloshing around you as you did so. Behind his eyes was a particular expression you could not quite cipher. Aegon had his brows scrunched in concentration momentarily before blinking a few times, breaking his trance.

“Is everything all right?”

Aegon nodded, but his body language told a different story. His body seemed tense, and his shoulders slumped as he studied your features. He jumped slightly, hearing the soft knock on the door, and stood to open it, revealing the same scrawny boy from earlier. After paying him a few more gold dragons for his silence and closing the door, his attention turned back to you with a simple light grey and blush pink dress in his arms, a pair of silk slippers the same shade of grey sitting neatly on top. 

“I hope these fit.”

You caught the dress, running your fingers over the soft fabric. Glancing at Aegon, his gaze on the floor, your mannerisms seemed to change, causing a nervous flutter in your stomach. What caused his behavior to change?

He was kind enough to turn around while you got dressed, although it didn’t matter, seeing you were already as bare as the day you came into this world. You ran a hand across your stomach, the light grey corset of the dress feeling snug. 

Aegon looked over you for a moment, a brow raised. “Well? How does it fit?”

Your hands smoothed over your blush-colored skirt. “It does not look like a sack on my body if that was what you were wondering.”

He let out a breathy laugh, walking closer with the shoes. He motioned for you to sit on the bed, kneeling before you to put the slippers on. You watched over him carefully, a playful smile on your features. “I never thought a Prince of the Seven Kingdoms would bend the knee to a lowborn.”

Aegon hummed, his gaze meeting yours when you kicked him lightly. He returned your smile. “Perhaps you are more than a lowborn, my rose.”

“Y/N. My name is Y/N.”

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The end of the week was approaching, yet signs of the festivities were nowhere to be found. You were wary of leaving your home since the run-in with the poachers, but your food was beginning to rot, and your stomach was growling.

You jumped slightly at the sudden knock, looking over at your dark wooden door, frowning when the knock came a second time. You swiped the knife resting on your table, carefully hiding it behind your skirts as you approached the door. Your hand grabbed the handle tightly, and you looked up when the knock came a third time. You swung the door open, the knife raised.

Aegon’s eyes were wide at the sight of the knife, his hands raised slightly. “I don’t mean harm.”

You blew a breath, lowering your blunt weapon; it wouldn’t have caused much damage. “I’m sorry, my prince, but I don’t get many visitors.” You scrunched your brows in confusion. “H-how did you know where I lived?”

He shrugged nonchalantly. “I have my ways,” He replied. “May I come in?”

You eyed the prince but nodded, opening the door wider for him. Your home was no bigger than the room Aegon took you to the night before. Aegon’s eyes wandered around, trying to hide the disgust he felt. It was not the exact home you grew up in, although you tried your best to make it feel like it was; your childhood home was a pile of ashes now. You took a peek outside your home before closing it. The grip on your knife relaxed, and your gaze returned to the silver-haired man sitting on your bed; the poor mattress creaked under his weight.

“Why are you even here?”

He blew out a breath, falling back onto your bed, looking up at your ceiling. “I needed to hide.”

You raised a brow. “To hide?” You repeated. 

He closed his eyes. “My mother informed me that I would be crowned heir on the morrow.” His voice slightly wavered as he talked.”

You furrowed your brows, tossing your knife on the table before walking closer to Aegon. You rested a knee on your bed beside his body, looking over him. “You don’t sound too happy to be next in line for the throne.”

Aegon opened his eyes, his gaze roaming over you. There was a small light in them while he watched you, as though he was trying to remember every detail of your face. “I am only to be heir because I’m the eldest son. It is my duty,” He said quietly. “But fuck duty. I don’t want it.”

You scrunched up your nose. “What is you want then?”

He reached up, gingerly running his fingers through your silver locks. “I wish to have freedom.”

You hummed, taking his hand in yours. You looked over his palm, examining it. You were surprised how soft it felt, assuming it would be rough and callused. “Freedom is not as luxurious as you assume it to be.”

“And neither is the royal life.” 

He pulled you down suddenly, a chuckle passing his lips when you giggled. “What if I told you that I felt freedom with you?” He whispered. 

You clicked your tongue. “I will call you a liar and an imbecile. Don’t think because you rescued me from those poachers means you will finally have your way with me. Your sweet words will get you nowhere.”

A challenging smirk formed on his features, licking his lips lightly while he played with your fingers. “I guess I will have to prove I am worthy of being free with you.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “And how are you planning to do that, Aegon?” You questioned, remembering how he scolded you the night before for using his title in private, so you decided to humor him by saying his name instead.

His smirk only widened. “Through books.”

You furrowed your brows in confusion. “I can’t read.”

“I remember you told me when we first met, but I never said you would be the one reading.”

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Tagged readers: ✨ @mrsdaemontargaryen ✨ || @aleemendoza2425-blog || @arabellachant || @clairacassidy || @fictionalcomforts || @ladybug0095 || @namelesslosers || @neenieweenie || @runningmunson

[nutsuya]

Wriothesley when asked “what are you doing tomorrow?” And he goes “the usual. Paperwork, make a couple of rounds, more paperwork, then hopefully you at… 3 pm, and again at 7 or 8. After I take you out to dinner, of course.”

[agender-wolfie]

Guys. Stop tagging your OC stories as X reader. It’s hard to sift through and I don’t go to the x reader tag for OC’s I don’t care about .

[mochinomnoms]

Inspired by the Irish twins stuff - if Yuu is with both tweels, I can imagine that would be trifold and may turn into a competition (with Yuu's consent) to see who can have triplets first.

Tweels parents are thrilled with all the grandeels while Crewel and School Nurse are this 🤏 close to making Eel skinned boots.

Meanwhile Uncle Azul visits and baby Eels are crawling all over him enough to distract him from the tweels and Yuu leaving to try for triplets.

SCREAMS IRISH TWINS AND TRIPLETS WITH THE TWEELS AAAAA

It 100% turns into a little competition between the brothers. They're not sure how they can tell that the first pair are Jade's, Yuu thinks it must be a scent thing. Floyd is upset though that he didn't win first, so a new bet is made on which one of them can get Yuu knocked up with triplets. Floyd is especially giddy at the idea of triplets for some reason, so he's trying to sneak them away from Jade after the twins are born. It's to no avail, as Jade is attached to Yuu's hip, and Floyd is so weak to the cute little babies in the bassinet, so he's now just making sure Jade can't take them away and beat him again.

The perfect opportunity arises when their family and the Ashengrottos show up to give their congratulations and see the twins. Mama Leech and Mama Ashengrotto are cooing over the twins, Azul is congratulating his friends (and trying not to cry over being the other godparent for both kids), and Papa Leech is talking with Azul's stepfather.

“I do hope we get another grandchild, large families are so rare under the sea, but humans have them all the time! It would be nice, though, do humans usually have twins or triplets?”

They don't, but that's nothing that a potion can't fix. It was Jade's best class, after all. Floyd is surprisingly sneaky, taking Yuu up to the bedroom with the excuse that they need to rest and asking his and Azul's mom if they could take care of dinner and the babies for a bit. They accept with no complaint, though Mama Leech notices a gleam in Jade and Floyd's eyes as they walk Yuu up the stairs.

A person can get pregnant up to 3 weeks after birth, so they gotta get started asap. Floyd's extra determined to win this next bet after all.

(A few months later, after they announce that they're having triplets, the tweels find themselves cowering behind Yuu as Crewel and the nurse attempt to strangle them.)

[shalotttower]

A Heart Deceived

Title: A Heart Deceived

Fandom: Far Cry 5

Characters: Jacob Seed x Reader (female)

Summary: AU where soulmates share the same marking and Jacob doesn't have to brand you any further.

Word count: 2900+

Notes: soulmates, yandere!Jacob Seed, Reader is not the Deputy, captivity, violence, emotional manipulation, dub-con kissing, scars and injuries description: Reader has a mutilated ear and facial scars from a wolf attack and is not happy about it, a mild form of Stockholm Syndrome.

His fingers are surprisingly gentle. You don't expect it from him, the gentleness, Jacob is not kind or caring. Jacob is not warm, not nurturing, not indulgent. Yet his thumb skims across your jaw with quiet focus. Down the side of your neck, up your chin to follow the slanted line there, then it repeats the whole procedure on a different scar. They had long healed by now and turned into uneven ridges of mismatched tissue.

It hurt when the damned wolf bit you, the next day, and for many following days; the effective and precise killing machine aimed for the throat, and if you didn't twist the last moment, would have succeeded.

Jacob never punished the wolf, it was serving its purpose, while you, you were supposed to think before acting and understand the possible consequences.

The pain could be endured and later forgotten, what could not was the humiliation of lying on the dirty ground and the shiny view of Jacob's boots growing larger until they stopped in the line of your vision. A moment of painful awareness: the escape attempt which failed so abruptly and so brutally had become laughable. Jacob grabbed your hair and shook you like a disobedient puppy. "That's on you, sweetheart. Be wary of the quiet ones, they say."

Those last words sounded as if he were talking to himself, rather than anyone else.

"I warned you."

He did.

Jacob is right, not in everything, but in many things. One can try and deny it, another can scoff, but the bottom line is the same: Jacob is right in many things, and at times it's better to listen. Even despite an involuntary gagging reaction.

Your heart hammered and every single beat of it brought to the surface what you already knew — there would be no other attempts. The paleness from fear or perhaps blood loss must've shown on your face, because he let go of you and crouched down. "Pathetic."

It lacked genuine heat, disappointment, or any emotion. Being disappointed would mean that Jacob expected something in the first place. He pulled off his jacket and pressed it to your face, stemming the bleeding. The ground seemed more interesting than ever, dry soil dotted with rocks and grass blades scattered everywhere, trampled by people's feet.

You don't want to look at him or acknowledge the touch to a small sword on your wrist, identical to the one above his left elbow. The mark is a clean reminder and a binding claim for life. You don't want to see it or remember how Jacob's face twisted when he realized just who you were.

Like someone had slapped him.

A lot has happened; Montana turned different from what you saw on TV and the world suddenly shifted under your feet, rearranged from a little road trip across the states into his territory, his commands, his people. A part of you — a foolish, soft part — wished you could've met under different circumstances, in a different place and you told him once about it in a moment of weakness. Jacob stilled at first, but then kept cleaning his gun. "We're here, sweetheart. Nothing we can do 'bout it."

Could've beens and never happeneds weren't worth wasting thoughts on.

Now Jacob is tracing your scars. He's not handsome, not really, there's too much roughness to the lines of his face, dark circles and untrimmed beard, but... you frown. You don't know how to describe Jacob Seed or why you even bother trying. It's odd to think about him this way. Weird.

Jacob catches your eyes. "What?"

You close them. "Nothing."

He makes a noncommittal sound, then leans in. The kiss to your forehead is unexpected and brief. A lot of them are — quick kisses on your temple when Jacob thinks you're asleep, on your nape when he leaves the bed before dawn. They make you wonder just what he wants from you.

He never expects affection back.

Doesn't try anything further, and you both are suspended in this limbo, neither being the first to break it, nor acknowledge its growing significance with every passing day. One part of you craves it, to yield in a different way, not because it is required, but because you want, yet Jacob doesn't ask, so perhaps it's for the better.

Another gets nauseous. He breaks people. Like dry twigs, discarding the pieces when they have no more use. You've seen his Chosen training until they begged, cried and crawled, their pride crushed along with the body.

There are days you can't bear looking at him.

***

Sometimes, sometimes, you wish him dead and gone from the world, then the mark on your wrist aches like a fresh wound.

"When will you take off the chain?" You ask and wiggle your foot a bit. It's long enough to reach the bathroom, to wander around the quarters, but not to walk outside. Jacob doesn't look up from his book. The cover is worn out and you suspect he read it many times already, military stuff. Strategy. Survival tactics, you have no idea.

"When I know you've learned your lesson."

So, not today.

You sigh and roll onto your stomach. "It's stupid."

He doesn't respond.

It's annoying more than anything. Reason — you're his soulmate, not some runaway cow ready to get lost in Montana wilderness — didn't help and only gained you a blank stare followed by a lock click. The chain rattles with each movement, loud and distracting; Jacob just keeps reading as if nothing happens.

Sometimes, sometimes, you catch yourself thinking that this isn't so bad after all. He treats you well for a cult leader: fed, clothed, clean, sheltered. Compared to the cages his future Chosen sleep in, you don't get to complain. You have a comfortable bed instead of cold dirty floor, normal meals rather than a chunk of raw meat, privacy and silence without old school music 24/7.

You frown. No, it's not nice. It's Stockholm Syndrome, plain and simple. You should be free, away from this place.

"Are you angry?"

Jacob turns another page. "No."

His room smells of pine wood and gun oil, with an undertone of metal. The furniture is scarce and practical. A wardrobe, a desk with a radio placed on top, one bookshelf. Bare walls except for a giant map pinned opposite the bed; you've memorized all the markings on it during your stay. The areas which got liberated by Deputy are red, his outposts are circled in blue. Jacob doesn't talk about Deputy much, but the way he clenches his jaw over the radio frequency makes you think they must be a real pain in the ass.

Secretly you hope they blow Eden's Gate HQ to pieces soon.

What would it mean for you?

These are questions, vague and inappropriately timed, coming to mind. What if Deputy happens to eventually tear the Project apart? They escaped John, escaped Jacob and you were to personally witness his foul mood for two days straight. You overhear bits and pieces of conversations, the Chosen talk if they think no one listens — Deputy is strong and clever. Persistent and cunning. Maybe that's the reason Jacob's so obsessed with them.

What if...

You glance at him from under your eyelashes and rub the mark. They say there's a connection between soulmates. If one dies, another experiences it on a physical level. Jacob said that was bullshit. His brother didn't confirm or deny when you asked him after a sermon.

Joseph Seed unnerves you. Not just because he believes himself to be God's vessel. There is something in his voice, quiet and soothing like the distant rolls of thunder, it raises goosebumps when he starts preaching and you're forced to sit through it. Something in his eyes behind yellow-tinted glasses sends shivers down your spine, very little to do with his religious fanaticism.

What would you feel if Jacob died?

The thought creates an unpleasant twist in your stomach, unwanted bond or not, it leaves you queasy. You curl on the bed. Jacob has reading glasses, you barely held back a snort the first time you saw them propped up his nose. He shoots a flat look from above the pages but doesn't comment on your inquisitive stare.

By now you know when to speak and to remain silent (mostly). He dislikes unruly ones and finds satisfaction showing them just how insignificant they are, how mistaken in every single sense. Weak. That's why you annoy him mildly when feeling particularly brave or in need of interaction, but never play soldier or power. It triggers something which is best avoided, gets people punished, then shot in front of others. Or sent for trials, you're not sure which is worse.

Jacob marks a page and sets the book aside. "What?"

"What 'what'?" You ask back, fiddling with the hem of a grey camouflage shirt. It's way too big on your frame, Jacob likes the look of it, judging by how much of your wardrobe consists of his stuff now that you don't leave the room.

"I can hear the wheels in your head turning, spit it out."

"What would happen to me if something... happened to you?"

You're afraid of saying 'if you die' because it's final, even though Jacob seems invincible most of the times. A mountain against hurricanes. Yet everyone dies eventually and the Deputy keeps winning against all odds set before them.

"Nothing. Joseph takes care of you."

This is news, and frankly not the answer you hoped for.

('You'd go free' was. He didn't say 'I won't die' either.)

Tension seeps into your shoulders without a conscious thought. "Why? I am nobody to him."

"You are my soulmate," Jacob replies, simple as that, like it explains everything. Perhaps in their cult world it does, but not yours.

"So?"

He pats his thigh.

It's a gesture without much interpretation required, but you stay rooted on the bed. Cautious. You've grown familiar with each other after living together for months — sharing a space tends to do this to people — still tonight is different, full with awkwardness you haven't felt since that time he walked in on you changing.

Jacob's stare is intense. Heavy, cold blue eyes linger on your wrist where the sword surrounded by flames peeks from under the long sleeve. You swallow a lump in your throat and get up on unsteady legs.

"So he will do it out of memory. You're family, pup, whether you wish it or not."

With the same caution you sit on his lap, war memories written in pink-red skin decorate his face. Just like yours, you think, the only difference is the place and origin. There's something intimate about being like this. Jacob holds you in place once you settle down, not comfortable, but not exactly uncomfortable either.

"Never took you for a cuddly type," you say to shield yourself from growing unease. "Why the change?"

Jacob's thumb presses to the corner of your lips. "Got tired of those puppy eyes staring at me the whole evening, sweetheart. You can have a closer look."

"I don't have puppy eyes. And maybe I like looking from afar."

"Yeah?"

His beard has a prickly feeling to it.

You know your face will never be the same after what happened. From his point of view, Jacob can probably see where the scars begin in the hairline, then continue downwards only an inch away from your eye; small miracles and such. Half of your ear is missing, a good solid chunk. It's not a nice look.

"Don't touch them," you mutter.

You don't mean to share your thoughts in such an abrupt manner, but these intimate moments become a source of discomfort, like a sharp, twisting knife. Jacob doesn't flinch at the sight, he probably saw worse things, still it feels humiliating being reminded of your shortcomings and the fact that this is your face — permanently marked.

Jacob doesn't stop.

"Beauty dies fast, darlin'," he says slowly. "This here... this'll stay."

He never sugarcoats anything. Never lies to spare feelings, ruthless and pragmatic with a clear understanding of what matters and what doesn't. Only the weak need empty reassurances; his words. You hate this side of Jacob just as much as admire it on occasion, right now you wish he said something else. Beauty dies fast.

"Thank you Jacob, very comforting. Top ten phrases you should tell someone who got mauled by a Judge." You cross your arms, wondering why the hell are you talking about this. With Jacob. The worst choice possible to bring up sensitive topics, or maybe the only one, since there's not a lot of people around anyway.

"I ain't here to stroke your ego, sweetheart. This," he traces a scar, "is a lesson to remember. Next time when thinking 'bout running — think again and think good."

There will be no next time regardless of how he phrases it. The chain rattles every night when you shift under the blankets and falls down with an annoying bang as soon as you get up. There's nowhere to run too, the Whitetail Mountains belong to Jacob, he rules them like a king would rule his kingdom, with iron fist and strict order, and who knows what the local Resistance will do to you if they catch you first.

If they figure out whose soulmate you are.

You're trapped between the Deputy destroying outposts and Jacob hunting them across the region, like a mouse stuck in a corner while cats keep prowling around.

The sky outside has an orange-pink hue, casting Jacob's face into soft light and deep shadows. He takes off his glasses, setting them on the book's cover, then wipes a stray tear from the corner of your eye. "You gonna cry over looks?"

You sniffle. "Yes. I wish I never met you."

He stiffens. For a second you worry it might have pushed a wrong button. Jacob never hurt you physically, still there's a healthy dose of fear, not necessarily born out of past experiences. At times his presence just radiates off in silent waves so thick you can feel them crashing into yourself before he walks away and doesn't return for days, leaving you alone with the Chosen stationed behind the doors to watch over and report back to their Herald.

Jacob leans closer until your foreheads almost press into each other.

He doesn't initiate touch often. Once in a while he lets you sleep on his arm instead of a pillow or allows you to sit closer than usual during meals, but that's it. There are boundaries set, most of them are unspoken rules which you picked up along the way: you can ask questions and be generally yourself within reason — as long as it doesn't border on disrespect, Jacob will tolerate occasional attitude in very small doses; you can request certain items provided he approves; he prefers silence during breakfast.

Never challenge him publicly and don't talk bad about his siblings.

This confession can't be taken back, nor do you wish to, because it's true. You regret meeting him, and it was much better to wonder and guess, create images of a faceless man somewhere in the depths of your mind and fantasize about possibilities. How does one even go back to normal life after this?

(Not that any chance of doing so exists in the foreseeable future.)

"I figured, darlin'," Jacob says finally. His voice lacks anger, as if he expected those words one day or another, Jacob isn't naive or stupid and is surprisingly aware of himself in a lot of matters, of the fact that very little would want to end up where he dragged you and being imprisoned under the heavy metal chain doesn't add to fond memories either. "Fair enough."

In all months you two lived together, sharing food and space, in all months, he never kissed you.

Now he does.

His lips are chapped, dry and slightly rough.

You find yourself going rigid at first, unsure what to make out of it. It's different from what you imagined, the fantasy version seemed more... violent and harsh, less intimate and private. He breaks the kiss briefly and then resumes it again.

Slow-slow-quick, Jacob steals your breath away bit by bit until your head spins, until your hands feel clammy and then, when you think you can't take it any longer, he pulls back.

"Won't apologize 'bout the scars, pup. You deserved a lesson."

Your throat feels parched.

"But not of this kind. Never wanted it for you."

It doesn't sound apologetic, neither regretful, but it is what it is, probably the closest to it Jacob will ever be capable of. His hand strokes the back of your neck in slow and repetitive circles, and in an odd way, it does seem soothing.

He takes you to bed minutes later, maneuvers you closer under the sheets and turns off the light. The window is open letting in the sounds of evening wildlife: crickets chirp loudly nearby, some owl hoots in the distance; Montana smells different than other states. Sharper, wilder. You lie like this for a bit, curled against his side and he's always so fucking warm, a human furnace incarnate.

"The moment I saw the marking — I wished you never met me too."