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wholoveseggs · 3 months

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Rules {Part Four}

18+ ---- {Masterlist} {Tag-List}

Part Four

Tonight is the night of the dinner party and tensions are running high. Caught between the love for your family and your own desires, things take a dramatic turn when you make a choice you can't take back.

♡♡ I finally get to write about my #1 favorite TVD moment! The Dinner Partyyy! {the campyiness, the tension, the dramaaaa... Its peak TVD} Hope you enjoy! PS: there will be a part five ♡♡

6.4k words - Warnings: salvatore!sibling reader, no smut, lots and lots of drama, so much angst, Elijah being the sexiest middle-part menace he can be, secret affair, forbidden romance, Damon being over-protective, finally adding some proper Stefan moments to the plot, Elena being Elena, my sweet angel ♡ ANDIE STARRR ♡ , vervain, tension, violence, john gilbert & chocolate mousse...

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Five}

♡♡ Tag-List ♡♡

Trying to fix my tags! I re-added all of you, and now you will be posted at the top!

If you no longer wished to be tagged just shoot me a DM {I won't be offended} xoxo~

@gorgeouslydangerous @starkleila @lydia1369sworld @notleylaaa @vampiresluv

@myanmy @xflowerbombxo @maryvibess @always-and-forever-daydreaming @criminallminds @rosemarypotion @spnaquakindgdom @amournoir @meeom @damienmorton @wickedmuse @sunkissedebony97 @idk00sblog @savannaounana @cs-please @complicatedandconfusing-25 @youcanhavemybuckanyday @akala6670229 @yeaiamme2 @itsjulzandmydiamonds @spideysbabe @witch-of-letters @elijahstwink @rosecentury @sekaishell @ziayamikaelson @amanda08319 @starshipcookie @li-da-savage @veggie-eggrolls @spideybv28 @loving-and-dreaming @fancycassie-stayfancy @hcqwxrtss123

You sat in front of your vanity, outlining your lips with a deep shade of red, finishing off the look with a dab of gloss.

Damon didn't tell you any details of what he was planning, beyond having a weapon that could kill an Original, which would have seemed absurd if it wasn't your brother. You knew what he was capable of.

Damon had left not too long ago, telling you he was going to lunch with his girlfriend Andie, and would be back later.

All you knew was that there would be a dinner party tonight and if Elijah showed up, Damon was going to kill him.

Your phone rang and you glanced over to see Stefan's name on the screen, your pressed speaker, and went back to applying your lipstick.

"Hey," You said, pressing your lips together and checking the color.

"Hello," Stefan replied, sounding a bit tense.

"How's your trip with Elena going?" You asked, grabbing a tube of mascara.

"Well as it can be," he said vaguely.

"I guess you know about the deal then? Elena is willing to die for you, that's very sweet," you said casually, applying the mascara to your eyelashes.

"When did you get so callous? She isn't a martyr, she's just naive," he sighed.

You felt a pang of guilt for teasing him. He was right, Elena was kind and gentle, and both of your brothers loved her.

"Look, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I know how you feel about her," You said, trying to sound comforting. "It's just that she possesses an unfortunate face,"

Stefan let out a humorless chuckle, and sighed. "Katherine's face,"

"Yeahhhh," you laughed.

"Funny you should mention her, Elena has been reading some old journals written by Johnathan Gilbert," Stefan explained. "It's brought up a lot of memories,"

"Didn't you eat him?" You asked, screwing the cap onto the mascara.

His silence was an answer in and of itself.

"Are you afraid that if Elena learns about your lovely alter-ego she won't love you anymore?" You teased.

"This is serious," he sighed.

"Ok, ok, sorry," You said, standing up and smoothing out your dress. "Always so uptight,"

"Not everyone has it so easy, sister," he grumbled.

"What does that mean?" You asked, your tone slightly offended.

"It's nothing," he sighed.

"No, no. Please, speak your mind," You said, rolling your eyes.

"You've always just been good at it," He began, you could hear the annoyance in his voice.

"At what?" You snapped, pacing around your room.

"Being a vampire," He said bluntly. "You claim to loathe Katherine, yet you aren't that different,"

You didn't know what to say, his words cut you. How dare he compare you to the woman who destroyed your life, turned you and your brothers into monsters. Kept them under her toxic spell while you watched them suffer.

"That's not fair, Stefan," You said softly, feeling hurt and defensive.

"Isn't it?" He asked.

You stayed silent, unsure of what to say, you just stared out the window, the sun shining brightly outside.

"Anyway, I don't have time to debate your morals," Stefan continued. "I'm just calling to tell you to watch out for Damon, killing Elijah won't be easy, he will need your help,"

"And here I thought you didn't trust me," You said, unable to hide the hurt in your voice.

"I trust you more than anyone," he said softly.

You wanted to tell him everything, how guilty and ashamed you felt. You didn't even know why you were feeling these things, Elijah was nothing to you, but you couldn't stop thinking about him, the pain in his eyes, the coldness in his voice, it haunted you.

And now you were going to kill him, Stefan was right... You weren't so different from Katherine.

"Then, trust me when I say, I'll handle it," You said, keeping your tone casual.

"Ok," he said, though his voice sounded hesitant. "Please be careful,"

"I will," you said softly, before ending the call.

You sat down on your bed and pulled on a pair of black velvet pumps. They were tall, and made your legs look amazing. You checked your lipstick and smoothed out your dress, and headed downstairs.

Damon was just arriving home, with Andie in tow. They were carrying bags of groceries, and setting them down in the kitchen.

"Hi, Andie," You smiled.

"Hello darlin," she said, her voice cheery, like always. "Don't tell me that your brother roped you into this mess,"

"Mess?" You asked, raising an eyebrow, giving Damon a questioning look.

"Andie doesn't believe in my abilities to cook," Damon rolled his eyes.

"Damon has a tendency to go overboard with things," she laughed.

Neither of them were actually talking about the cooking. Damon had obviously told her about his plans for the night.

"What are we serving tonight, then?" You asked, giving him a warning look.

"A nice rack of lamb, roasted vegetables, some salad..." Damon trailed off, looking around the kitchen. "Annnd... A dessert that will be sure to knock our guest's socks off,"

You and Andie made eye contact and she smiled, trying not to laugh.

"Sounds lovely, brother," You smiled, reaching out and patting him on the shoulder. "How can I help?"

Damon gave Andie a pointed look and she nodded and left the kitchen, leaving the two of you alone to chat.

"So," he began, as he pulled out a box of matches and lit the burner on the stove. "Change of plans,"

"Change?" You asked, leaning against the counter, crossing your arms.

"I need you to stay upstairs, away from the party," He said, avoiding your eyes.

"What?!" You said, glaring at him. "Why?"

"Because Jenna is coming, and she thinks you are Elena's age... I can't have her asking too many questions," Damon explained.

"That's such bullshit!" You growled, pushing off the counter. "You can't do this on your own,"

"Yes I can," he scoffed.

"So, what? I'm just supposed to stay hidden away in my room, twiddling my thumbs while you try and kill Elijah?" You asked, getting more irritated by the second.

"Yeah, pretty much," He said, his tone casual. "And when it's done you can help me dispose of the body,"

"Are you being fucking serious?" You spat.

"Relax," he chuckled.

"How am I supposed to relax when I know you are going to get yourself killed?!" You asked, throwing your hands in the air.

Damon put down the pan he was holding and turned around, walking over to you and getting in your face, his eyes wild and bright.

"Despite you being a ravenous little killer, you are still my baby sister," he said, his voice soft, but his eyes were still angry. "I was wrong to ask you for help, it's my job to protect you, not put you in harm's way,"

You didn't like this one bit, Damon was stubborn and headstrong, and once his mind was made up, there was no changing it. It infuriated you, the way he saw you as this helpless damsel. Yet, you weren't surprised, he had a tendency to go overboard with things and forget logic. The fact that you were a vampire and could handle yourself was something he often forgot.

You felt humiliated and helpless, and that made you angry, so fucking angry.

"Fuck you," You snapped, turning on your heel, storming out of the kitchen, Damon called after you, but you ignored him, slamming the door to your room shut.

You stood in the middle of the room, feeling a wave of emotion hit you. This wasn't like you, you never let yourself feel like this, so out of control. The last time you felt anything like this was years ago, when you were human.

You hated that feeling, the way your stomach would twist, and your heart would ache. But it wasn't because of Damon... It was because of Elijah.

The sound of the guests arriving floated up to your bedroom. You were sitting on your bed, a glass of wine in hand. You had been drinking all evening, trying to numb the anger, the sadness, and the regret.

The plan was already in motion, there was no stopping it now. Elijah was going to die, and you were told to stay put and let it happen.

You picked up the voices of several familiar people, Alaric, Jenna, Andie, even Elena's estranged father John. All chatting happily, blissfully unaware of your presence upstairs.

You looked down into your glass, you could see your vague reflection in the dark liquid. You couldn't stand the sight of yourself, the guilt, the shame… it was eating away at you, no longer could you sit there and wallow in it.

Fuck it, you thought. You finished the glass off with one large gulp and got up, walking over to the full-length mirror.

Your hair was down, the curls flowing down past your breasts, and your makeup was perfect, smoky eyes and deep red lips. All dressed up and nowhere to go, nobody to see.

You headed down the hallway, trying to be as quiet as possible, peeking through the railing on the stairs to see if anyone was there.

Then you heard Elijah's voice, it was hushed and cold, and the words were unintelligible, but it was him, and your heart skipped a beat.

You inched closer, straining your ears, desperate to hear more.

"Can I just say that if you have less than honorable intentions about how this evening is going to proceed, I suggest you reconsider."

His tone was dark and threatening, and you knew Damon would be on the receiving end.

"No, nothing, nothing dishonorable. Just getting to know you," Damon replied, and you could picture his cocky smile.

"Hmm. Well, that's good," Elijah sounded skeptical, and you could hear him walking inside and closing the door.

"Because, you know, although Elena and I have this deal, if you so much as make a move to cross me, I'll kill you and I'll kill everyone in this house. Are we clear?" Elijah's tone was firm and unwavering, and you could sense the tension.

You took a deep breath, steadying your nerves, and walked down the stairs. Your feet a bit wobbly in your heels, the wine was catching up with you.

Everyone was looking at you by the time you got to the bottom, and you were sure your face was flushed, your cheeks pink. But all you could see was Elijah. His dark eyes watching you, and your heart was racing. Surely he wouldn't kill you in front of all these people.

"Well, well, well. Look who decided to join us," Damon chuckled nervously, walking up to you and putting his arm around your shoulder, squeezing you forcefully. "This isn't a party for teenagers, sweet sister,"

The tension was thick, and it was clear that Damon didn't want you there.

"I just wanted to come say hello, I was getting bored upstairs," You said casually, pulling away from him.

"Oh, c'mon Damon, it's alright. She can stay for the food," said Jenna, giving you a warm smile. She was so kind, you didn't want to see her get hurt.

"No, really. She should be going, right sis?" Damon said, glaring at you.

"No, I think I'm gonna stay, I was promised dinner, after all," You replied, meeting his eyes, defiance shining in them.

Elijah cleared his throat, stepping towards you and Damon, his face neutral. "Nice to meet you Miss Salvatore," he took your hand and kissed it, his lips lingering for a moment longer than necessary.

Damon was looking at Elijah like he wanted to rip his throat out, and you had to resist the urge to smirk.

"And you, Mr. Smith," You replied, trying to hide your amusement.

Elijah gave you a knowing look, and a small smile formed on his lips.

"Call me Elijah," He replied, still holding your hand.

"Elijah, then," You nodded, a shiver running down your spine as his thumb traced your wrist.

You had no idea why he was acting so casual, he had to know this was a trap, and he was just standing there, touching you.

"Ok, now that everyone knows each other, let's eat," Andie cut in, leading everyone to the dining room.

Before you could follow, Damon grabbed your arm and pulled you aside, his expression one of pure rage.

"What are you doing?" Damon growled.

"Having dinner," You said, pushing him off and brushing past him, walking into the dining room.

The only empty seat available was next to Elijah, who grew stiff when you approached him.

"Is this ok?" You asked, smiling sweetly.

He nodded, pulling the chair out for you, and pushing it back in once you were seated, always the gentleman.

Everyone was seated, and the dinner party was in full swing. Jenna and Andie asked Elijah all about the local history of Mystic Falls, and he bullshitted his way through, telling them stories of the old families that founded the town, local folklore tales, and other nonsense.

Elijah seemed to relax a bit, although he was purposely avoiding looking or speaking to you, his gaze focused elsewhere. But every once in a while you could feel his hand brush yours under the table, making your skin tingle.

You were drinking wine like it was water, and you could feel the effect it was having on you. The world was fuzzy, and everything was so funny. You would giggle or let out an inappropriate snort whenever Elijah would talk, and your face was flush and hot.

"Not to be a party pooper but aren't you a little young to be drinking?" John Gilbert said, looking at you, his eyes narrowing.

You glared at him, raising an eyebrow, he knew that you were a vampire, four times his age no less. But you weren't about to argue in front of sweet and innocent Jenna, who had no clue about the existence of the monsters she was surrounded by.

"She can have a glass, as her guardian I allow it," Damon said casually, not bothering to look up from his plate.

"Ahh, I see, I suppose the rules are a bit more lax when you have Damon as a parent," John added, his expression bitter and cold.

"I think she's had more than a glass," Andie said softly, her tone was concerned as she looked you over.

You felt Elijah's hand come to rest on your thigh under the table, it made your heart skip a beat and Damon look up from his plate.

"She's fine," Damon said, his tone final.

The other guests exchanged awkward glances, Alaric cleared his throat uncomfortably and Jenna and Andie both had worried expressions on their faces.

Elijah's hand was moving higher up your thigh, and it was making your face flush, and you were starting to get wet.

You had no idea why he was touching you, considering he wanted to kill you. But you supposed there is a fine line between lust and loathing.

As soon as everyone finished their meal, Andie got up and Damon gave her a pointed look, whatever he had planned had just begun.

"The gentlemen should take their drinks in the study," she said, giving everyone a smile, her gaze lingering on Elijah.

"I have to say the food was almost as wonderful as the company," Elijah said, smiling at her, and standing up.

"I like you," Andie said softly, returning his smile.

You watched as the men left, Damon looked back at you before he followed them, giving you a wink, and closing the door.

You were fuming, the wine making you angrier than usual, you went to follow but Andie intercepted you, handing you a pile of plates.

Sighing, you reluctantly carried them to the kitchen and started loading the dishwasher, not wanting to draw too much attention.

"Here, let me help," Jenna smiled, taking the glasses from your hands.

"It's fine," You said, forcing a smile.

"Come, drink some water, your face is flushed," Andie said, handing you a glass.

"No more for you," John added, pouring the leftover wine down the drain.

You scowled at all three of them, lecturing you like you were a child. They had no idea what you were capable of, the things you've done. They wouldn't treat you like this if they did.

You took the water, glaring at them, and chugged it, setting the glass down with a little more force than necessary.

Alaric came rushing into the kitchen with a wild look in his eye. He made eye contact with you, and he was out of breath.

"We forgot dessert!" He said, sounding panicked.

"What?" Andie asked, confused.

"Dessert!" Alaric repeated, his body practically vibrating with fear.

Whatever was going on, it definitely wasn't about dessert.

"I can make a chocolate mousse...?" Jenna began, trailing off, looking at Alaric with confusion.

"Perfect! Let's go tell Damon and Elijah," Alaric said in a rush, motioning to Andie who gave him a questioning look but followed him out.

"What is going on?" Jenna asked, turning to you, her eyes wide.

"No idea," You lied, shrugging, hoping to sound convincing.

As soon as Jenna had her back turned, you slipped out of the kitchen and headed for the dining room.

Everyone had already returned, and the tension was palpable. Alaric looked stressed and Damon was smirking, which was a sure sign of a disaster.

Damon and John were seated on opposite ends of the table, glaring at each other, while Elijah sat in center. Andie and Alaric were behind him, rummaging through her bag for some reason.

"What I'd like to know, Elijah, is how do you intend on killing Klaus?" John said sharply, looking over his wine glass at him.

It seemed that the dinner party discussions had finally turned to the real business at hand, you inched into the room quietly, trying not to draw any attention.

"Gentlemen, there's a few things we should probably get clear right now. I allow you to live solely to keep an eye on Elena. I allow Elena to remain in her house living her life with her friends as she does as a courtesy. If you become a liability, I'll take her away from you and you'll never see her again." Elijah's eyes flickered to you, but only for a second.

Before Damon or John had a chance to respond, Andie returned with her notebook in hand, sitting down across from Elijah, ready to interview him, "Okay. My first question is when you got here to Mystic..."

Suddenly, time seemed to slow down, you watched Alaric approach Elijah from behind, an ornate looking dagger in his hand, ready to stab him in the back.

You moved without thinking, lunging at Alaric, wrapping your hand around his wrist and snapping it with ease, causing the dagger to fall to the floor with a clatter.

Alaric crumbled to the floor in pain, looking up at you in shock.

The room suddenly exploded into action, dark veins spread beneath Elijah's eyes, and he lunged at Damon, knocking him over the table and onto the ground, grabbing him by the neck and lifting him into the air, his eyes ablaze.

John grabbed Andie, pulling her out of the way, while Alaric crawled along the floor, cradling his wrist.

You grabbed Elijah's arm, trying to pry him off of Damon.

"Don't! Let him go!" You shouted, struggling against him, his muscles were tensed, and his grip was tight, he wasn't budging.

Elijah looked over his shoulder at you, his dark eyes cold and angry. You gave him a pleading look, trying to convey how important it was that he listened.

"Please, he's my brother, please don't hurt him," You said, your voice breaking as your tears began to flow.

He dropped Damon, who fell to the floor with a thud, coughing and sputtering.

Elijah looked around the room at all the frightened faces, then to the floor where the dagger was lying and picked it up, examining it.

"Clever boy," Elijah looked at Alaric, shaking his head and tsking. "I haven't seen one of these in quite some time,"

He moved to attack Alaric but you jumped in front of him, shielding him with your body.

"Please don't kill him," You pleaded, putting your hands on his chest, trying to push him back.

He was immovable, but his gaze softened when his eyes met yours and he put the dagger in his jacket pocket. His eyes went back to Damon, who was still on the floor, glaring at him.

"Please, don't hurt anyone," You repeated, your hand moving to his hair, running your fingers through it.

He closed his eyes and leaned into your touch, his shoulders sagging, the tension leaving his body.

"Get away from my sister," Damon snarled, his voice rough from being choked.

Elijah looked at Damon, giving him a wicked smile and wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him, your face pressed against his chest.

"Oh, she doesn't mind," Elijah smirked, looking at Damon with smug satisfaction.

Damon looked from you to Elijah, his expression a mixture of disbelief and pure rage. His brain couldn't quite compute what he was seeing.

"What did I say?" Elijah began, pausing to pretend he was pondering, "Oh yes! If you so much as make a move to cross me, I'll kill you and I'll kill everyone in this house,"

Your hands curled into his shirt, tugging on it, looking at him pleadingly. His dark eyes went to yours, and his gaze softened, he kissed you on the cheek, wiping away a stray tear.

"Fortunately for you, your lovely sister has been most gracious in her hospitality," He said, looking over your head at Damon.

You were visibly shaken up, looking at your brother with tear filled eyes, your hands trembling against Elijah's chest. He lifted your chin, forcing you to look at him instead of your devastated looking brother.

"So much for rule one," he said quietly, kissing the corner of your mouth.

Damon was seething, his fists clenched, and he was practically shaking with anger.

"Now, I hate to cut this evening short, but it seems I've overstayed my welcome," Elijah sighed, pulling away from you, his tone neutral.

"And as for you. Let me be perfectly clear, if you, or anyone else, attempt something like this again, I will kill you. No mercy. Understood?" Elijah asked, looking directly at Damon.

"Yes," Damon said, his voice dripping with venom.

"Wonderful. Now, I think it's time for me to take my leave," Elijah turned and began to walk out, "I'll be in touch," he called over his shoulder.

As soon as Elijah left, all eyes were on you. Damon's angry glare made you squirm, and the disgusted expressions from Andie, Alaric and John made you feel deep shame. You needed to get out of there.

But before you could , Damon grabbed you, the speed blowing your hair back. His hand went to your neck and he threw you against the wall, his fingers crushing your windpipe.

"Are you crazy? You’re fucking Elijah? ELIJAH?" He yelled right in your face, his rage so uncontrolled he lashed out and hit the wall beside your head, causing the plaster to crack and break.

"What the hell were you thinking?" He continued, his eyes wild, spit flying from his mouth.

"Damon," Andie said softly, stepping forward to calm him. John held her back, helping Alaric to his feet and pulling them both out of the room. John knew better than to get between Damon and his wrath.

"How did this happen? How did he get to you?" He shook you harder, causing the plaster dust to rain down. "Did he compel you? I told you to drink vervain every day!"

You kneed him in the stomach, forcing him to drop you, and you gasped for air.

"No! He didn't compel me, he would never," You snapped, rubbing your neck. "I...I care for him,"

Damon stared at you, his breathing ragged, and his expression completely blank. Then he started to laugh, it was devoid of any warmth, it was all bitterness and mockery.

"Care for him? What is he, your boyfriend? Did he ask you to go steady in-between planning Elena's murder?" Damon sneered.

"That's not fair," You said, scowling, folding your arms.

"So he's the reason you've been so distant? The reason you've been acting so weird? What, he's using you to get to Elena, isn't he?" Damon was pacing back and forth, his hands in his hair.

"No... We never discus-" You tried to explain.

"This is unbelievable," He groaned, cutting you off, and walking over to the liquor cart, pouring himself a drink, then he froze.

"Please tell me you didn't fuck him in this house," he said, his voice dangerously low.

"Not exactly...," You trailed off, averting your gaze, biting your lip.

Damon downed his drink and smashed the glass against the wall, "Fuck, Y/N, do you have any idea what you've done?"

"I had a plan! Everything just spiraled out of control," You said, your voice shaking, feeling overwhelmed and frustrated. "I tried... I tried to steal the moonstone, for you! For us! He caught me and... and I was stupid. I'm sorry.”

"So you thought you could pull a honeypot on an original?" Damon looked completely dumbfounded, and a little impressed. "Are you insane? Or just dumb?"

His words cut you deeply, mostly because they were the same things you had said to yourself, a million times.

"I thought it would work," You shrugged, your arms dropping, you were feeling defeated.

"And I suppose letting him fuck you was an added bonus, huh?" Damon shot back.

"Yes!" You screamed, frustrated, throwing your hands up. "I like him, Damon! He's interesting and attractive and he treats me like an equal!"

Damon snorted, "Because he thinks you're a slut."

That stung, he had never called you that before and tears sprang to your eyes. You glared at him, as they began to spill down your cheeks. You were done arguing with him, and you were done listening to him. He didn't understand, and you had nothing more to say.

Without another word, you pulled the dagger out of your bra, you had managed to remove it from Elijah's pocket without anyone noticing. You threw it at the floor at Damon's feet and stormed off.

Damon looked at the dagger, his brow furrowed, then back up at the spot you had just occupied, a sinking feeling in his stomach. He had made you cry.

You ran to your room and crawled under the covers, letting all your pent up emotions flow out of you, coming out in gasps and hiccups. You had no idea what to do, you didn't want to choose between your family and Elijah. You didn't want to be forced to pick a side.

You didn't want to have to give up what you felt when you were around him.

You didn't know how.

It had been a few hours since the disastrous dinner party. You were still laying in your bed, staring at the ceiling, replaying the events over and over again in your mind.

You heard Damon leave not long after your argument. You had no idea where he ran off too. Knowing him, he went to find more trouble. Part of you regretted the fight, the other part of you wanted to strangle him.

You were exhausted, physically and emotionally. It was like every single part of your being was weighed down.

Just then you heard a loud commotion downstairs, the voices of your brothers and Elena floated up to you. There was a strange scraping sound, like they were dragging something heavy across the floor.

You quickly got up to investigate, hopping down the stairs, stopping suddenly in front of a very nervous looking Elena.

"What happened?" You asked, trying to look past her to your brothers.

"Damon told me what happened," She said softly, reaching out to touch you. But you spotted a pair of legs being dragged away towards the stairs leading to the basement.

Your eyes went wide as you figured out whose legs they were. Panic swept over you, and you pushed past Elena and rushed to the basement after them.

Stefan and Damon were throwing Elijah's body into the cell, he looked gray and cold, the dagger sticking out of his chest.

"Elijah! No, no, no," You cried, screaming and trying to get past your brothers. But they were too strong for you, holding you back, and quickly closing the gates.

"Let me go!" You punched at Damon's chest, desperate to get inside the cell, tears streaming down your face.

Damon just held you, refusing to release you, your screams filling the small basement.

Stefan locked the door, following you and Damon upstairs. You were kicking and fighting like a crazy woman, begging them to let you see him.

Once you made it upstairs, Stefan grabbed you and held you in his arms, still you fought and cried for him, despite his pleas for you to stop.

"Please calm down," Stefan begged, holding onto you tightly.

"He came to take Elena, we had no choice," Damon said, his voice sounding tired, like this had been an exhausting evening for him.

"He promised me he wouldn't," You said, your voice cracking, your throat raw.

"He lied, Y/N, that's what he does," Damon replied, sounding exasperated.

"Shut up!" You screamed, jerking out of Stefan's arms and rushing at Damon, your fist connecting with the side of his face. "You did this! He wouldn't have done anything if you hadn't provoked him!"

You managed to hit him twice, splitting his lip, before Stefan grabbed you again, pulling you back.

"Knock it off!" Stefan said sharply, giving you a firm shake. You stopped struggling for a moment, panting.

Elena came and stood next to Damon, looking more sad than angry. She wasn't sure what to say, or what to do in this situation.

"I love him Stefan, please," you begged, sniffling. It was the first time you could admit it out loud, to anyone, to yourself and you wished it was Elijah you could have told first. "You have to let me see him, even if he's dead...I just have to see him."

Your words cut through Stefan's heart. Trembling in his arms, he had never seen you so distraught and in pain. He looked over your head at Damon and Elena, silently asking for permission.

"Fine, I'll take you, but only because you'll probably burn the house down if I don't," Damon said, rolling his eyes.

Stefan let you go and you immediately ran down the stairs, your feet skidding slightly on the concrete floor. You rushed into the cell and fell to your knees beside Elijah's body.

"lijah," you said softly, trying to coax him out of sleep.

He was gray, covered in dark veins, his skin felt cold. Your fingers trembled as you touched his face, your fingers running through his hair.

You laid down next to him, resting your head against his chest, listening to the lack of heartbeat. You lay there for a few minutes, crying to yourself.

You could feel Damon watching you, and it pissed you off.

"Please leave me alone," You said softly, your voice breaking, not bothering to turn and look at him.

Damon was standing there, leaning against the wall, his arms folded, and he looked at you thoughtfully.

"He's dangerous, and he's using you," Damon replied.

"He never learned anything from me!" You snapped, glaring at him, the anger boiling over. "We had an agreement, an understanding! It wasn't like that!"

Damon shook his head, and looked away from you.

"You can't be in love with him. You barely know him." Damon was trying his hardest to get you to see sense.

"Maybe, maybe I'm not," You lied, sniffling, "I just feel like there's something there, something real and I've never felt this way before,"

Damon let out an exasperated sigh, and closed his eyes.

"This will end badly, I'm not going to try and convince you anymore. You're too damn stubborn," He said, opening his eyes and looking down at you.

"Can you bring me a blanket and pillow?" You asked, changing the subject.

"No," Damon said, turning on his heel and leaving the basement.

"Asshole," You muttered, moving back to rest your head against his chest.

A few minutes later, Stefan came down the stairs, carrying a blanket and a pillow, and a bottle of bourbon.

"Thanks," You smiled weakly, taking the blanket and covering yourself with it. You took the pillow and gently lifted Elijah's head, placing the pillow underneath him.

"Is he really dead?" You asked quietly, not looking at Stefan, staring at Elijah's face.

Stefan let out a long sigh, he hated seeing you like this, the sight of you curled up next to a corpse was not a normal one.

I'm not entirely sure," he knelt down, crossing his legs and he sat on the floor next to you. "but he isn't alive either, he's frozen, asleep,"

He reached out and touched your shoulder, turning you to look at him.

"Damon wants to keep him on ice, he doesn't trust Elijah and... neither do I," he tried to say it gently, wanting you to know the truth. "if you wake him up, he will kill us for what we've done... Elena tricked him... He will not be happy,"

"Maybe he will forgive us," you said, looking at him with hopeful eyes, "what if he can feel everything? He must be so scared and lonely,"

"Do you really think he can feel fear?" Stefan asked, raising an eyebrow. "My impression of him is that he isn't the type,"

"He has a big heart, under all that arrogance," you smiled softly, touching his face, brushing the hair from his forehead. "Kinda like someone we know,"

"You've got it bad," Stefan shook his head, a little bit in awe of your feelings. "I've never seen you like this, not with any other guy."

You looked over at him, his expression was a mix of worry and sadness.

"Do you hate me? For loving him?" You asked, a knot forming in your stomach.

"No, never," he said, pulling you into his arms. "I'm worried, and scared... But I could never hate you. Ever."

"I can convince him Stefan, I can get him on our side, I know I can," you said, feeling the tears come back.

"And if you can't?" He asked, rubbing your back.

"Then... Then... I don't know..." You said, a sob choking you, unable to speak.

Stefan hated himself for what he had to do next, but it was the only way he could think to keep everyone safe.

While you were still in his arms, he pulled out a syringe and jabbed it in your neck, pushing the liquid vervain in. It was a large dose and it took about three seconds before you passed out.

He caught you before you slumped to the ground, lifting your sleeping body and carrying you upstairs.

Damon and Elena were waiting anxiously, eager to hear that Stefan had been able to talk you down from freeing Elijah.

"Is she ok?" Elena moved forward, "Did she try anything?"

"She had a bit of a melt down," Stefan said honestly, he placed you on the couch, ensuring you were tucked in and comfortable.

"What can we do to make sure she doesn't help him?" Damon asked, leaning on the doorway, unable to come closer to you. The sight of you like this broke his heart. "she's been completely brainwashed by the guy,"

"She loves him Damon," Elena said softly, walking over to him, laying her hand on his arm.

"Don't say that," he groaned, covering his face. "That makes it worse. She has to get over it."

"I don't think it works that way," Elena said gently, squeezing his arm.

"We have to keep her away from him," Damon explained, his hands dropping, he was looking at Elena now. "It's too risky."

"That will be impossible," Stefan said, shaking his head, "she's more stubborn than you, she won't give up until she has her way."

"So what do we do?" Elena asked, glancing between them.

"The only way I can think of is to keep her sedated, until I find a way to kill him for good," Damon said, his tone matter-of-fact.

"No, Damon.. that's not right," Elena protested, looking to Stefan to back her up.

Stefan couldn't meet her gaze, instead he turned away, "We don't have any other options."

"So we are just going to knock her out? That's cruel!" Elena said, feeling very disappointed.

"Got any better ideas?" Damon snapped, kneeling down in front of you. He placed his hand on your forehead, "I can't let her wake him up, he will kill us all,"

Elena sighed, shaking her head.

"She will hate us for doing this," Stefan said, not liking the idea one bit, but it was the best they had.

"Yeah, well, I can handle that," Damon shrugged, and picked you up in his arms.

He carried you to your room, gently placing you on the bed, pulling the covers up over your body. He sat next to you, tucking your hair behind your ears.

"You'll understand, eventually," He said softly, stroking your hair, before standing up and leaving the room, shutting the door quietly.

You were trapped in some sort of nightmare, everything around you was completely dark. You couldn't even see your hand in front of your face. You had no idea where you were, what was up or what was down.

You were calling out for help, your voice echoing back to you, but no one else was there.

Suddenly, you felt a presence beside you, it was warm, familiar and safe. You were drawn to it and you reached out, trying to find the source of it.

You heard the sound of a man laughing, it was a wild, maniacal laugh.

You started running, your feet hitting the ground hard, you couldn't breathe, but you didn't stop. The laughter kept coming, getting louder and louder.

Then the sound of a woman screaming nearly knocked you off your feet, but you kept going until you ran into something solid.

It was the edge of a coffin, made of wood etched with an ornate symbol on the top, a crest of some sort. Your fingers traced over it, feeling the deep grooves. It was the letter 'M', carved into a shield.

Finally, your hands found the lid, and you pushed, straining to open it. What was inside was three rings of fire, you could feel the heat on your face, the smoke making it hard to breathe.

The rings were getting closer, or you were falling into them, you couldn't tell. The screams became deafening. You were overwhelmed with intense anxiety, unable to move as you stared into the flames.

Then everything stopped.

And you woke up.

{Part One} {Part Two}{Part Three}{Part Five}

269 notes · View notes

crazyk-imagine · 7 months

Text

There’s a Heat Between Us, You Must Admit

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x Plus size!rader

Characters: Plus size!reader, Anthony Bridgerton, Benedict Bridgerton, Colin Bridgerton, Daphne Bridgerton, Violet Bridgerton, Mildred “Millie” Nightington (reader’s cousin), Bernard (the servant), Eloise Bridgerton, Francesca Bridgerton, Gregory Bridgerton, Hyacinth Bridgerton, Simon Bassett, Augie Bassett

Warnings: Anthony is an idiot, the bee scene (mainly from the book scene), drama, Daphne doesn’t want to see her friend end up alone, reader gives Anthony the biggest side eye ever, reader and Anthony are idiots, Millie is a sweetheart, reader and Anthony are competitive, the sideburns line was something I learned about, reader is stubborn, Anthony is oddly very emotional in this, reader knows a lot of things, reader doesn’t know how to deal with her emotions, pregnancy scare, the pregnancy scare reminds me of a sitcom

Word Count: 13,647

A/N: Reader’s last name is Starlington and also, super excited to have finally finished this one.

*1,700 follower celebration post*

Also, Happy Valentine’s day!!

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Sometimes you loved your dear friend Daphne and other times you didn't, right now for example, you don't.

Honestly you don’t know how this got brought up (again) but you’d wish she would stop; it’s not going to happen even if she wants you to officially join her family.

You knew her being the first to marry out of the two of you was going to lead to more of her shenanigans, but this was too much for you.

You sigh, setting your cup down to look her in the eyes, “I have no plans on being in this season.”

Her shoulder sagged, “I understand that but-”

“But, nothing. Daphne, I am more than content with my being staying very much untied to a man. If I happen to meet someone worth it, you’ll know.”

Anthony glances over in your direction and his mind goes elsewhere.

You’re his sister’s best friend who also became Benedict’s best friend soon after you met the rest of his family.

He isn’t particularly upset at the fact that you’ve managed to befriend his siblings (slightly better than he could) but, there’s something that keeps bringing a certain idea to the front of his mind.

“Are you going to take your turn or continue staring?” Benedict asks.

The eldest shrugs off his brother’s comment.

Anthony uses the dreaded “death mallet” and once again, manages to pass the others.

Daphne heads towards her siblings before they can scream and shout at her for sitting down instead of taking her turn.

You sigh, shoulders sagging because you know she means no harm; you know that but, you can’t force yourself to love and care for someone you don’t have feelings for.

You’d never admit it (out loud or to her) but there are nights where you do wonder how it would be if you did get married to someone you loved.

The concerning part is how her brother sneaks into your mind; not your closest friend, Benedict, or the third oldest, Colin, and of course not, Gregory.

No, Anthony is the one to invade your mind and corrupt your dreams with his charming smile and smooth movements.

And you would never dare tell Daphne or your cousin of your thoughts; no matter how hard she tries to convince you he feels something for you.

You take a deep breath, returning your focus onto the game only to meet a pair of oak brown eyes gazing upon you.

You tear your gaze away at the sounds of Violet walking down the stairs, carrying a smiling Augie in her arms earning a smile from you as you observe the happy baby.

You glance towards her and offer a polite smile, giving her a moment to settle down in the free chair before turning to focus on the young babe. “Hello, Augie,” you greet him with a baby tone and shake his chubby fingers.

“He’s always taken with you,” Violet comments.

“I am the one who always manages to search for his mother when he cries for her. Sometimes I believe myself to be a dog.”

She chuckles, “that’s not it.”

“Why else would he like me?”

“You have a natural instinct that he senses. Children know these things.”

“If that’s what you say.”

Daphne steps away from the others, wanting to see her child. “She is right, you know.”

“Not you too,” you groan.

“You will make a fantastic mother.”

“Someday.”

“It could happen sooner than one would think.”

“What are you planning?”

“Nothing.”

Anthony stares back at you once more, observing the way you interact with his dear nephew. As he searches for someone to call wife, his most secretive thoughts keep coming to mind. The more he searches and the longer you stay, the more he finds himself wondering.

His mother continues to help him in his search for a wife albeit reluctantly since she finds herself so fond of you. She’d never explicitly tell him to pursue you but, she could always kindly ease him into the right direction, which is when his disbelief comes to the surface, truly believing you to feel nothing for him.

He knows if he tried to pursue you and it fell through, he will have ruined a lifelong friendship for his family- as he watches Daphne hold her purple mallet for you to take- he realizes he can’t pursue you.

Not that he’d ever given it any real thought, but he’d never be able to forgive himself if he was the reason, you stopped coming by.

You shake your head.

She puts it in your hand, persuading you into taking her place so she can attend to Augie.

You step down from the seating area with little energy.

His sister offers encouraging nods.

“I see you finally came to join us,” comments Anthony.

You avoid his gaze- you can barely stand beside him. “Not like I wanted to,” you reply.

“You’re scared to lose?”

You scoff, turning to look up at him, “that is not what I said.”

He smirks, leaning closer to you, “you didn’t have to.”

You narrow your eyes at him, “we’ll see who’s laughing when I win.” You walk away, taking your turn. You’re satisfied until you sense him behind you.

He follows you, “for someone who didn’t want to play earlier, you’ve certainly found your spirit.”

“Or was it a trick?” You smirk, glancing at him when the ball rolls through the metal hoop with ease. “You look nice,” you comment, turning around to walk away.

Anthony’s brows furrow together, his body takes over as he steps closer to you, standing beside you. “What do you mean?”

You turn, struggling to find the right words without sending the wrong message. “I only meant you look nice. You know, people- people can actually see your face now.”

He continues to stare at you.

“Your sideburns were nice but it- they- people may have assumed you grew them to hide what lies in your heart.”

“And what do you think lies there?” The words escape him before he could process his thoughts.

“I believe the love for your family and future wife is there, along with the care and compassion you hold for them. I do have to admit, I am a bit glad you shaved.”

He tilts his head, “and why is that?”

“I was afraid you would have continued growing them and at some point, they would connect,” you use both hands the gesture from your sideburns to your upper lip, “and you would look as though you were wearing a mask of sorts,” you say with one hundred percent seriousness until you think about it and snicker, covering your face with your hand.

Anthony is also unable to keep himself collected and joins in. He straightens his posture, “what of you?”

You take a deep breath, fanning yourself. "What of me, for what?”

“What do you think lies in your heart?”

“The same as you, I suppose. Love and compassion for my family and the few friends I have.”

“What about me?” He asks before he can stop himself.

“What?” You don’t know what to think.

“I-” He walks past you, placing his mallet back into place before exiting, wandering to the garden. He needs to get as far away from you as he can in order to clear his mind.

You don’t understand what’s happened and place your mallet beside his before chasing after him.

He stares at you, half listening to you and his attention moves elsewhere.

“Are you even listening to me?” You stare at him, wanting to understand him. You’re too into your thoughts to hear the faint buzz.

The noise sends a shiver down his spine, he knows the noise too well; his nightmares (if he can remember any) always start with the faint buzz.

He doesn’t move as he searches for it. Sadly, for the eldest child, he doesn’t have to search for long as the small, striped animal floats around you. He prays to whoever is listening to hear his silent prayers for it doesn’t sting you; he can’t lose someone else to the blasted creature.

“Anthony?” You ask, glancing down when you feel something land on you. You realize why he can’t look away. “Hey, it’s alright.”

He can’t focus on your words, his mind rattled with the memory of his late father. “Don’t move,” his voice is low and shaky.

“I know, it’s a bee but, it won’t hurt me as long as I-” you close your eyes due to the discomfort you get from the sting, and it sends him into a whirlwind. “I’ll be alright,” you say, still trying to reassure him. You open your eyes to see how pale he’s gotten.

He invades your personal space, grasping onto your arms. “Are- are you-” He glances back and forth between your face and your wound. His voice is low, far too low for you to understand what it is he is trying to say but you swear you hear him mutter something along the lines of, “don’t move'' repeatedly.

You know you must calm him down before he can do anything. You reach for him, placing a hand on his cheek, forcing him to look at you. “Breathe, Anthony. I need you to breathe.”

He can’t say anything, almost as if he’s choking on air. Images of his father invade his mind, filling him with worry and dread.

You can see he is close to tears. Your voice draws him out of his thoughts. “I promise you. I hope you know I wouldn’t lie to you. I’m fine but I will still have a doctor come and look at it so that it may heal properly. I’m right here. I’m here with you.”

Anthony’s hands grip your biceps, he notices how swollen the sting site has become.

“It stung me, but I am not hurting. This has happened before. I will be fine.”

None of your reassurances are having any effect on him.

The image of his father taking his last breath in his mother’s arm is enough to make lean in to suck the venom out.

“Anthony?! What are you-” You cut yourself off at the feeling of his shaky hands trying to remove the stinger. “Anthony, you must stop.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, trying to stay focused on keeping you healthy (and alive) while fighting to keep his father’s death out of his mind.

You take deep breaths, you try to push him away, but he is insistent and stronger than you. “I am fine, I just need to see a doctor and I-”

“Would you be quiet,” he finally lifts his head to look up at you.

You gulp, “I know- I know what tragedy has happened in your family but, today will not be the same for me.”

He doesn’t listen and continues to squeeze the area.

You gasp, eyes widening at the feeling of his hands being so close to your breast. This has gone too far; you must stop this before someone sees. “Anthony,” you place your hands on his chest to push him away once more.

“Stop it,” he shoves your arms off him. “Let me get rid of the venom.”

“There is a doctor who can do this and-”

“The doctor is not here. I am.” He stops squeezing when some liquid begins to spill out of the wound.

You look down, finding the trail of liquid, “see, you did it. Now, I am going inside to-”

Anthony pulls out a handkerchief, wiping away the trail. “It’s not all of it.”

You wrap your hand around his wrist, stopping him from patting you dry. “You must stop this, Anthony. If anything were to have happened, it would have happened already.”

“There is still more,” he mutters, staring at the irritated area.

“You need to stop.”

“I haven’t gotten all of it,” he turns, staring at you.

“Whatever it is you’re thinking of doing. Don’t.”

“I have to get the venom out before it kills you.”

“It won’t kill me-” you gasp, seeing the determination in him as he leans forward. You place your hand on his shoulder, keeping his head away but fail to remove his hand.

The click clack of women’s shoes against the rock pathway alerts you, but you feel as though you can’t move.

A gasp makes you turn to find his mother alongside your cousin, Mildred (Millie for short), staring at the two of you with shocked expressions.

Your heart rate increases and gain enough strength to fully shove him away from you, knowing how this looks.

He glances up at you with a confused expression.

“Anthony?” Violet calls out.

His brows furrow further, he looks over your shoulder, “mother?”

“What is going here?”

“She was stung by a- a bee.”

“A bee?”

“Yes, a bee. I’d told him repeatedly I was fine. I’ve dealt with being stung before,” you say, struggling to keep yourself together.

“You were stung by a bee and the boy found himself attached to you?” Mildred raises a brow.

“Don’t look at me like that, Millie.”

“I’m not, I’m wondering how you think this can be kept quiet.”

“Kept quiet?” You repeat quietly to yourself.

“Neither of us would repeat a word of what occurred today,” he argues.

“That doesn’t mean anything for a woman’s reputation,” Mildred says with an attitude.

“You do realize anyone could walk out here and spot the two of you, don’t you?”

He doesn’t say anything.

“Don’t you?”

He grits his teeth, “I do.”

“You should consider yourself lucky that it was us who found you and no one else, rake.”

“That’s enough now, Mildred,” Violet intervenes. “Let’s,” she takes a deep breath, “let’s go inside and talk about this further. Lady Starlington needs to be seen by a doctor.”

You can’t stand to be there any longer and turn away from him, walking past the two ladies and Anthony; your pace speeds up before you know it, you’re sprinting back to Audrey Hall.

Mildred sighs, “now what are we to do?”

“We will all walk back and discuss this,” Violet says.

“Of course, we are but, what am I to tell my parents? They’ll be curious to know why their niece’s name is in a Lady Whistledown column.”

Anthony grunts, taking a step towards the two. He passes by them and quickly announces, “we will marry before the end of the season.”

“Did he say what I think he did?” asks Mildred, watching his figure walk away with wide eyes.

Violet sighs, shaking her head, “I believe he did.”

“Did I do the right thing?”

The mother of the family stops, turning to face your cousin, “what do you mean?”

“I- I basically pushed themselves together into this potentially unhappy marriage. I know I sometimes I can’t keep my comments to myself but, I swear I had good intentions. It's just- when we came around the corner to see that I- I worry about her. I fear I may have ruined my relationship with the two.”

“I can’t give you an exact answer but, I can say that as long as you have your cousin’s interest and happiness in mind, the most you can do is hope for the best. They are both emotionally driven people, even if neither wishes to admit it. This will be hard for them, and it may be a test.”

“A test?”

“To see if they will make good of their marriage. You and I, as well as my other children, have come to realize how they connect with one another. They can’t see it for themselves but there is something there and now is the time for them to see it.”

“I suppose so. What if they can’t make it work?”

“Then I fear they will be in a miserable marriage.”

No one else disturbed you after the doctor left.

You sit at the edge of the bed, your vision blurs; you cover your mouth with shaky hands. You don’t want others to hear if they happen to be walking by. You cry, struggling to catch your breath.

Everything you’ve been feeling with the last few days is slowly escaping you. Your mother is requesting to visit and marriage situation with Anthony; it’s too much.

You take deep breaths, aiming to calm yourself down.

Maybe it would be better if you left and went home or maybe somewhere far from here.

A knock disturbs you from your thoughts.

You wipe your cheeks, hoping whoever it is will go away but fail as another knock comes through. You take a deep breath and open the door, “Viscount Bridgerton?”

He lifts his gaze off the floor, “what happened to Anthony?”

Any curiosity falls from your expression, “your making light of the situation?”

He shakes his head, “I would never.”

“I think you’ve done enough today. It’s almost time for bed.”

He takes a step closer to the door, his hand inches away from being crushed, “I,” he sighs, taking a step back, removing his hand from the door. “I have come to ask if you would have dinner with me.”

“With you?”

“I think it would be wise if we talked before anything becomes… official.”

“Now?”

“Are you going to use full sentences any time soon?”

“Why should I? Is it bothering you?”

“Nevermind that. Are you going to join me or not?”

“Will there be someone else there?”

He gives you a reluctant nod, “yes, your dearest cousin, Mildred.”

“I’ll be down in a moment. I will meet you there.”

“I’ll wait here.”

“Do you have to?”

“No but, I think it might be good practice for us.”

“Practice,” you mumble and shut the door. You walk over to the vanity, staring at yourself, wondering how you got into this situation. You snatch the extra handkerchief and pat your face, removing any evidence of your despair.

You take careful steps toward the door and exit, Anthony leaning against the wall across from your room. He holds his arm out for you to hold.

You shake your head.

“Don’t you think you’ve touched her enough today?”

He sighs, “Mildred.”

“Who else would it be?” She interlocks your arms together, pulling you ahead of the eldest Bridgerton. “Come on.”

“Do either of you know how to use it?” Anthony asks, staring at the stove.

Mildred shakes her head, “the maids are always around to do it.”

“Both of you sit down,” you say.

“Do you know how to work this?” he asks, sounding surprised.

“I do. It’s too late for us to have a full meal, instead we can have a glass of warm milk.”

They sit at the table in the corner of the room.

Anthony watches as you move gracefully around the kitchen.

“If you keep staring, she’ll catch you.”

He turns to her, “what?”

“You’re staring.”

“No, I wasn’t,” he denies.

“You can lie all you want but I know you care for her. Perhaps, you always have and never wanted to admit it before and the whole bee situation was a ruse so that you could stop being a ninny and marry her instead.”

His jaw drops, he doesn’t know how to respond. “I did not-”

She waves him off, “do not lie Anthony, I know you love her and have for some time now, only you must realize it now than later in your marriage. I do not want her… or you to be unhappy. Oddly enough, I seem to care for you but, obviously not the same way she does you.”

He scoffs through his nose, muttering to himself, “obviously.”

You place the glass of milk in front of the two, interrupting their conversation. “Don’t tell me you’ve decided to marry my cousin instead.”

Anthony nearly chokes on the liquid, setting the glass down and snatches the handkerchief you hold out for him.

He wipes his chin, “what makes you think I would want to marry, Mildred.”

She scoffs, “you’d be lucky to have me, Bridgerton.”

He narrows his eyes to her.

“I’ll be just outside this door, leaving the two of you talk and nothing else.”

You furrow your brows, “wait. Mil-”

She waves to you.

You take a deep breath, not wanting to face him.

It was different when he wasn't paying attention to you and rather his own life, but now... you hope he doesn't want to talk.

"We should- we should talk."

Everything in your screams to not run away and hide, even though it sounds like it would be the better option right now.

"How are you?"

"I would be happier if I was marrying for love and not because of your concern over my virtue," you mumble.

He overhears and sighs. “Don’t-”

“No, I understand. Truly I do, just- I need- it’s late. Apologies for keeping you up.” You grab the skirts of your dress and walk out.

Mildred watches as you run away. She spins around and stands in the doorway. “What did you do?”

“Me- I-”

She sighs. “Just shut up.”

He sighs and slumps in the chair. Mildred storms into the room after you.

“What happened?”

“Nothing.” You take a deep breath, hunched over your vanity.

“You know, you two act as a married couple who have known each other for too long and no longer know how to act lovingly around one another.”

“You are wrong, cousin. He is- he is the scum- the scum that rests at the bottom of my shoe. Why would I ever marry someone like that? Much less that Bridgerton, I mean, Colin would be a better option and I don’t like him as much as I do Benedict.” You keep your head down, “people marry for less.”

“I wish to marry for love, if it ever decides to come my way but until then I will deal with him marrying the only person, I care about that is close to my age.”

“So, you care enough about me to marry me off?”

“Don’t phrase it in such a way that makes me the bad guy,” she throws herself onto your bed.

“Go to bed. I will be fine, Millie.”

She props herself up on her elbows. “Are you sure?”

“I am. Please,” you look up and turn around, putting on a brave face. “I promise you. I will be fine.”

“If you’re sure-”

“Which I am. Goodnight, Millie.”

She sighs and steps outside of the room, “night.”

“Good morning.”

You don’t respond to Mildred.

“Are you ignoring me?”

“I am simply showing you the way my soon-to-be husband will treat me.”

“What do you mean?”

“It has already begun. I awoke early and decided I wanted to speak to him after thinking about it all. I say hi but he does not.” You shrug, "it doesn't matter now."

"It does though. Let me," she sighs. "Let me speak with him. I can- I can fix this."

"No," you say. “I don’t want you to be in the middle any more than you have.”

“Alright... now onto more pressing matters.”

“Such as?”

“Your plans for the wedding?”

“Oh, right.” You continue to stare out the window.

“Are you sure you're alright?”

“I just-”

Anthony stops himself from knocking on the door and decides to listen.

“I thought when I was to marry, I would marry for love not because I need my virtue protected or saved."

"If he didn't agree to this-"

"I would be a spinster."

"That is how I will live my life," Mildred grabs your hand and gains your attention.

Anthony takes his leave, unable to stay there any longer.

“That is not how I want you to live your life. I want you to be the one to have another you can call upon if there is something the matter because I won’t always be there and I need to know that you are protected before I leave.”

“You’re leaving?”

She sighs. “This isn’t how I wanted you to find out but yes. A week after you’ve been married, I plan on traveling the world.”

“Your childhood dream.”

“Precisely.”

"I- what if I'm not good enough to," you wave your hand around. "This."

"This what? I'm not sure I understand."

"What if- what if I am not fit to be a wife. I mean," you push yourself out of the chair and pace around the room. "I don't want him to be disappointed in the person he is to call wife. I don't want to be in a marriage of..."

"Regret?"

"Precisely."

She stops you by placing a hand on your wrists, “now is the time for us to plan your wedding. Violet and Anthony have been sitting in the tearoom since I came in here.”

“She’s- they’re- why didn’t you tell me?” You rush out the door.

You clean yourself up outside the door and nod to your servant, Bernard, to open the doors. You nervously smile at both.

Violet pops up from the chair closest to the window. “How are you?”

“Oh- uh- I’m,” you glance to the side and stare at her eldest, who locks eyes with you.

“I mean from the- well, you know,” she struggles to say.

You let out a breath of relief, “ah, yes. I do. I am- I am fine. I’m just happy that everyone else is fine.”

She smiles, “that is kind of you to say, but unnecessary.”

“I hear you came to talk about our upcoming… event.”

“Is that what Mildred told you?”

You furrow your brows, “is that not what you’re here to discuss?”

Anthony pushes himself off the couch. “Not yet. Mother, if you’d excuse us.”

“Anthony, I don’t-”

He gives her a look.

"We will be right outside this door."

"What did you want to discuss?"

"If we are to marry, we should have stipulations."

"You think I'll be so horrible that we need rules?"

"Not you. I believe if we have these, we'll have a better understanding of what should come from this marriage."

"Why don't I just stay by your side and show my face when you need me to so you can look like the perfect husband? Would that make things easier?"

He sighs. "That is one of the things we need to discuss, which events you'd prefer to come to."

"Oh, I get to choose those?"

"Please stop. I am trying to make this as easy as I can."

You clench your fists. "How am I supposed to be okay with this?"

“It’s my fault and I am trying to make up for that.”

You pause, “your fault?”

He nods, “yes, it was- it was me who... couldn’t.”

You step forward and place your hand on his, drawing his attention onto you. “It is not your fault when something so devastating comes to mind and you do all you can to prevent another. I do not blame you, but you must understand that I do not want to be one of those ladies.”

“Who?” The only word he can get out as he studies you.

Your compassion shifts into something of annoyance, one he knows too well. “You know who, someone who wants to be like Penelope’s mother or maybe even... all of the other ladies,” you chuckle, proud of the joke you made.

"I'm glad you can make jokes at a time like this."

You roll your eyes, "oh hush, I am still upset about pretending to be a perfect housewife for the one man every woman dreams of being with."

"Are you included?"

Your mouth agape as you stare at him.

"You two haven't maimed each other, perfect."

"Millie," you pinch the bridge of your nose.

"Oh, don't act so coy now."

You roll your eyes and sit down, waiting to hear what Anthony and his mother have to say. You pace along the floor, finding it to be quieter here than in the tearoom with the others, even if they weren’t talking it was still too loud. You know there’s no alternative for what’s transpired between you and your soon to be husband, but it still hurts knowing he will never love you the way-

“Are you alright?” Daphne’s voice draws you out of your thoughts.

You give her a small smile and hope she doesn’t poke further.

“I know this isn’t how it was supposed to happen but there is one good thing about your marriage.”

You scoff, “and what, pray tell, is that?”

“I finally can call you sister.”

You try not to show how happy that makes you, not wanting her to know she was right. “Thank you.”

She drags you over to the piano.

“I still don’t understand why you have many so pianos.”

She shrugs, “for moments like this, maybe?”

“Are you waiting for me to play?”

She nods, “of course, I am. You were always much better than I was.”

“I was not.”

“Show me then. Show me how awful you play, and I will not ask you again.”

You don’t know how long you had been playing for, but it was something you missed- not having a piano in your own home, you didn’t realize how long it had been.

You usually prefer to play when no one is watching but having Daphne by your side was nice, she always knew how to help calm you before things could get worse; everyone knew of your father’s temper, and no one wants to face that through his only daughter.

Anthony raises his hand to knock on the door but pauses as he listens, he doesn’t realize Daphne had learned a new piece. He slowly opens the door and finds you playing instead.

‘When did you learn how to play?’ He wonders.

Or maybe it was, you had always known, and he was too into his fantasies that he forgot to pay attention to the true version of you.

Just when he was hoping to learn something horrible about you; you’re becoming more and more like his...

“I didn’t know you played.”

You open your eyes and glance up at him, standing up as quickly as you can. “I don’t.”

He furrows his brows, “that’s not what I heard.”

“That- that was nothing.”

“Why are you lying?”

“I prefer to keep this information to myself so if you could kindly pretend you didn’t hear anything, that’d be best.” You exit the room, knowing you’ve left

Anthony in a wave of confusion. “What was that about?”

“She doesn’t like others to know of her talents because she knows they’ll ask her to perform one of them.”

“Her mother.” He finally understands.

“And her aunt.”

Now he truly gets it. "Is this what you two would do while I was out with mother?"��

She shrugs and pushes the seat back. "Perhaps, or maybe you were never around long enough to learn about her even though you're entranced by her."

He stutters, unsure of where she could have gotten that idea. "What?"

She quickly hides her amusement before he can see. "Nothing. Goodnight Anthony."

He tries to stop her, but she ignores him, offering an excuse for needing to put Augie to bed. He wonders what else he doesn’t know.

You pace back and forth in front of his office door; this isn’t something you can do in person, is it? You sigh and wonder if it’s a wise choice to be doing this at all.

You slip the letter under his door and take a step back. “That wasn’t so hard.” You turn around and briskly walk down the hallway, hoping he doesn’t see that it was you who was there.

Something moving in the corner of his eye piqued his interest and moved closer to figure out what it was. He picks up the letter and opens the door, seeing someone’s figure turning the corner before losing sight of them.

He closes the door and opens the letter, wondering what you could have said when you’ve already said plenty.

Dear Bridgerton,

I I want to start off by apologizing for my outbursts, you don’t deserve them, and they are not aimed at you, but you happen to be the person I am talking to and... This is not how I expected the season to begin or end and I’m sure you didn’t either but if there is someone I were to marry, I’m happy it’d be you... because I trust you. I will do all that I can to be the perfect wife for you and if not, I apologize in advance.

Sincerely, Your annoying soon to be wife

The next day came, and you didn't know how to act.

You sit between Daphne and Mildred when he enters.

He sits in front of you and nods, acknowledging you, which you return.

The girls beside you don't know how to react, each staring at the other with a raised brow.

You two talked with his mother about the decisions for your wedding.

"Have you two discussed what you want?"

Anthony opens his mouth to answer but finds himself without an answer.

"Everyone will talk, and it will no doubt be in Lady Whistledown's column, but it would be preferred if we had a small ceremony, family only."

You don’t look up from your plate. Violet nods, listening intently. "I will use the dress my mother made when I was born, it'll save us time on getting a dress. The flowers can be your choice."

"And after?"

You turn to her, "it'd be smart to hold a small reception after all though it will increase because everyone will want to see who married the handsome and fortunate viscount."

You push yourself out of the chair. "I apologize but I realized I promised to spend time with the girls before we go out for our shopping trip."

"What just happened?"

"Have you two talked about anything regarding your wedding?" Violet asks her son.

"Every time we discuss something-"

"No, have you sat down and discussed what you two are to do? Who will be there? Anything that a soon to be husband and wife should discuss?"

His shoulders sag. "No."

"I want you to go in my place."

"What? Why?"

"It will give you two a moment to talk and prepare for the future hardships you two will face as a couple. Raise her spirits. She got a letter from her mother, saying she will not be able to attend. Perhaps that is why she is so uninterested today."

"She- how do you know?"

"I'm your mother, I know more than you would think."

Anthony waiting by the door frightened you. “Are you joining us?”

“I’m here in place of my mother.”

It takes you a few seconds to process what he said. “You are?”

He nods. “Shall we?”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

The failed whispering voices of the women around you, annoys you to the point where Anthony feels that he needs to do something. “Is there anything that has caught your interest?”

You shake your head.

“Let’s go. I know somewhere we can have a better time, away from the whispers of these women.” He leans in, whispering into your ear, “they’re jealous of you.”

You cover your mouth to hide your amusement, not wanting him to know he’s helping lift your spirits. You two exit the shop and return to the Bridgerton home. “Why are we back here?”

“We are going to have a drink.”

“With your family? Couldn’t we do that any day we wanted to?”

He holds his hand out for you to take, which you do. “Although that may be true, that’s not what I had in mind.” He places his arms behind his back, clenching his fist not wanting you to see the control you have over him. “We’re going to spend time in my office.”

“Oh? I’m invited in, I feel so special.”

“You should, very few are allowed in here, especially when I’m working.”

“Of course. The head of the house needs quiet or else.”

“I see going out has helped you.”

You watch as he fills the glass for you before grabbing it and swallowing it in one gulp. “You could say that.” You scrunch your nose at the sensation, maybe doing that was a bad idea.

He takes a seat in his chair.

“Could I ask you something?”

He nods, staring at you over the glass as he takes a sip.

“Did your mother inform of the one guest we won’t be seeing at our wedding?”

He slowly sets the glass down before returning his gaze to you. “She may have mentioned it.”

“Is that why you came with me today because she told you to and not because you wanted to?”

“She may have said she thought it was best if I take her place, but it was initially my choice to go.”

“You’re not lying?”

“What would I gain from lying to you?”

You sit up and reach for the bottle, filling your glass. “A relationship built on a lie.”

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Are you trying to make this harder than it needs to be?”

“I can’t just- you can’t honestly expect me to ignore that we are marrying one another when you never wanted to marry and I hoped that when it happened, it’d be with someone who loved me.”

He’s out of his chair before you realize he’s now sitting in the chair beside you. “What will it take for you to stop saying that?”

“What?”

He leans in closer. “Why do you think I could never love you?”

“I-” You gulp. “You have spoken before that you never want to marry, what else am I to think?”

“How do you know I couldn’t change? What if something comes of this relationship?”

Your breath hitches and you continue staring him in his eyes. “I suppose we’ll have to cross that bridge if we get to it.” You set the glass down and rush for the door, “I’ll take my leave now. I’m feeling quite tired after our outing.”

He grabs your wrist, pulling you back in before you could open the door. “I’m sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have pressured you into answering my questions.”

“What if I enjoyed them?”

You turn to face him with a small smile. “Then I am concerned for your being.”

“Don’t worry about me.”

“Be honest, did you mother tell you about my mother is not coming?”

“No,” he shakes his head, but you know the truth.

“You don’t need to lie on order to preserve myself, it’s okay.” You sigh, “is it sad that a small part of me wishes for her to be there?”

“Not in the least. It’s natural for you to want your mother there-”

“It’s not because she’s my family, I just- I need her to stop pushing marriage onto me.” You pace back and forth, “this is my way to prove her wrong but that makes me feel worse because it makes me seem as though I’m being a bad daughter.”

“You’re not,” he disagrees with you. “That is anything but you being a bad daughter. If anything, she’s- she’s scared to lose her daughter to a new family because they know you will be starting a new life, away from her and that’s why she doesn’t want you to help.”

“But what if-”

His hand slides down your arm as if his hand lingering wasn’t enough to drive you mad, he tightens his grip on your hand.

You force yourself to focus on his words and not the warmth emanating from him.

“Stop. All the negative thoughts you have are not going to help you. But listen to this, you are a good daughter, and she should be happy to know her daughter will be taken care of. As long as you are a part of this family you will be taken care of and not have to worry about expectations.”

“I won’t,” you whisper, not meaning to. He shakes his head and gives a small smile. “I promise.”

He realizes he’s been holding onto you this whole time and his arm falls. “Can I walk you back to your room?”

You nod, ignoring the warmth flooding your cheeks. “I would like that.”

“Will I see you at breakfast tomorrow?”

“You will, and if I ask you the same question?”

He smiles, “I will be there.”

“Good, I think this is a good start to our future marriage.” You step inside the room.

“I am sorry.”

“What?”

“The marriage… and the reason we are to wed.”

“What do you mean?”

“I lost myself and-”

You shake your head, placing a hand on his chest over his heart. “I do not blame you for something as traumatizing as your father’s death. Please know that.”

“But-”

“Anthony Bridgerton,” you tell him using a stern tone. “Stop it. It may not have happened under the best of circumstances, but I am happy that I will be wed to you than some other man. I can at least trust you.” You step back into the doorway, slowly closing the door as you bid him goodnight.

He stands there, touching the spot where your hand was until he drops it, straining his hand as he fights to clench it.

Benedict and Colin happen to be there when he turns the corner.

“Quite a show you put on there,” the second eldest says.

“Yes, you’re whole “I’ll be the perfect husband” speech was wonderful,” the third eldest chimes in.

Anthony scoffs, “would you two quiet down?” He grabs them by their collars, dragging them into one of their miscellaneous rooms. “Why aren’t you two out?”

“How could we be out when you’re here?” Colin asks.

“Trying to woo the love of your life,” Benedict adds on.

“I’m not- you two are acting like children.”

“Us? Acting like children?” Colin starts, glancing at his brother.

“No,” the artist shakes his head, “I don’t think so.”

The soon to be married man glares at his brothers, unsure if he wants to listen further or not but if he doesn’t let them continue it’ll be worse in the morning. He pinches the bridge of his nose. “If I let you two continue, will you keep quiet in the morning?”

“Morning?” Colin turns to partner in crime. “What’s happening in the morning?”

The artist glances over his older brother and grins, “is the soon to be wed joining his family and future wife for breakfast?”

“With him being silent, I’m going to say yes.”

“Finally, you agree with me.”

“I agree with you,” the third eldest argues.

“I don’t recall.”

“Okay, now that you two are done, I’m going to bed.”

“To dream of your wife.”

“She looked quite nice today, wouldn’t you say brother?” Benedict asks.

“I dare say, she looks even more radiant since her recent engagement.”

“You two are done,” Anthony shoves them out of the room. “You two will not speak of her like that again. She is your friend,” he jabs Benedict’s chest. “And your future sister-in-law,” and does the same to Colin. “You will respect her and not talk like this again, understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The next morning as soon as you step out of the door, your future husband paces. “You’re awake.”

“I am, it’s time for breakfast.” You close the door behind you. “Shall we go downstairs and join the others?”

“We’ll be the first ones down there.”

“Either way, I’m going down.”

He holds his arm out for you to take. “Shall we?”

You give him a small smile and nod. “After breakfast, what are your plans?”

“I have a few things I need to look over but after that I’m free. What did you have in mind?”

“I planned on going for a walk along the back of your family’s estate and perhaps we could talk about things.”

“Just the two of us.”

“Mildred could join us?”

“I’d rather she not.”

“I don’t blame you; she’s been on a rampage since earlier this week.”

The doors open and his brothers, Daphne and Mildred, are already sitting at the table.

“Of course,” he mumbles.

“Did you say something?” You ask him.

He turns his head towards you, offering a small smile. “No, it’s nothing.”

The glances between him and his brothers were interesting, intriguing to you and the girls, who also had no clue what was going on.

He stands behind your chair, hand resting on your shoulder. “I shall find you after I am done.”

You nod and watch him go.

“Well, that was interesting.”

Daphne shushes your cousin.

You lay across the couch, reading another book and were so into it, not even realizing that he had entered the room.

He smiles as he steps closer, wondering what’s going on inside your head, finding you to be more interesting as he observes you reading, compared to his sister. He leans against the back of the couch, bending down to catch your attention.

A shadow moving catches your eye and you turn, screaming soon after.

You place your hand over your heart, taking deep breaths. “For heaven’s sake! What was that for?”

“What do you mean?” He smirks, arms on around the sides of your body as he stays behind the couch. “What are you reading?”

You turn around and cross your arms, “why does that concern you?”

“Can’t a future husband be curious as to what his future wife is into?”

You glance at him from the corner of your eye. “Is that all?”

“It is. But that’s not why I’m here.” He doesn’t say anything else.

You get impatient and wave your arms around. “Spit it out. Come on.”

“We are to marry by the end of the week.”

Your brows raise is surprise, “oh.”

“Is that alright?”

You take a deep breath, “I just- I wasn’t expecting it to be so soon but that’s- okay.” You place the book beside you and stand up, brushing the wrinkles out of the skirts of your dress. “I need to go over some things with your mother.”

The humor falls from his face. “Wait- where are you going?”

"I just told you."

He follows after you, "I heard you but-" He reaches for you, pulling you back. "Can we talk?"

You take a deep breath to calm your beating heart. Why is this happening now? You thought you were over this. Your lips part as you stare at his hand. You shake your head, staring up at him. "I- what do we need to talk about?"

"Lady... things." He’s quiet for a moment. "I won't push you but know I'm here to talk if you need someone."

"Thank you." You take off, not noticing the way his hand slowly falls or the way he clenches his hand.

It's been a long time since he's felt the skin of a woman he was enchanted by, especially one he's to call wife.

"Did we catch a moment between you and your beloved?"

Anthony sighs, "don't you have charcoal to break for your fruit drawings?"

His younger brother puts a hand to his chest, offended by his brother's comment. "I'm hurt, Anthony. Truly, I am but it's not why I'm here."

He turns to face the artistic Bridgerton, taking notice of the serious look on his face. "What's wrong?"

"Sister."

"Which one?"

"Not one of ours."

He furrows his brows, mouth agape to ask why but realizes who his brother is referring to. "I thought we had taken care of this situation?"

"We did but then she decided to cut their trip short and has been calling on you since she arrived today."

"I need you to take care of her. I cannot allow her to ruin my marriage."

Benedict nods, "you finally figured out you truly care for her, didn't you?"

Anthony chuckles, "I'm not discussing this with you. Call Colin if you need help."

"We got it. Go take care of my future sister."

He nods for the doors to be opened. "Good morning, ladies."

Your cousin shakes her head, your mother fawns over him while Violet takes a sip of her tea.

Your eyes widen at the sight of him.

He places a hand on the back of your chair. "I expect you all enjoyed your breakfast before discussing more of the wedding."

"Oh, certainly. Your family has been nothing but kind to us, Viscount."

You adjust the napkin on your lap to keep you from rolling your eyes at your mother's fake enthusiast tone.

Mildred pats your arm, knowing the strained relationship between you and your mother.

He notices the tension in your shoulders and wishes he could pull you away from all this madness. "Anything I can help with?"

"Oh, heavens no. You have other more important things to take care of. Leave this to us ladies, isn't that, right?"

You purse your lips and let out a quiet, "mmhmm."

Maybe it was better when she said she couldn’t come to the wedding. Yes, you were sad, but it was better than the real thing.

Violet glances between you and your mother. "Why don't we let the girls go on a walk with Anthony watching over them?"

"But-"

"I think this will be good for them. It will give them more time to talk."

The woman hesitates to say yes, debating if this is truly a wise decision before making a decision.

You didn't realize how tight you were squeezing Mildred's arm until she let out a whine.

Your eyes widen, "oh, Millie. I'm so sorry."

"It's fine. I should have known better. I know how crazy she makes you." "This always happens?" You don't look in his direction. Your cousin nods her head, "unfortunately."

"Why has she made this unexpected visit?"

"She," Mildred pauses, giving herself time to think of a better answer than truth.

"She wants to know if I am with child and if the reason, you're marrying me is to save my family's name."

Anthony nods, he understands why you preferred planning this with his mother and your cousin. "Should we?"

You two glance over in his direction. "What are you implying?"

He shrugs, "I merely suggest we pretend as if there is something going on, give your mother something to worry about."

"You want her to pretend as if she is with child?"

He nods, confirming Mildred's nightmare.

"Please tell me you're not thinking of going through with this. It’s absurd and- oh, no. Now I like it."

You glance between the two. "Is this something you two finally agree on?"

They stumble for a minute, waiting for the other to argue and tell you no but come to realize you are, in fact, correct.

Daphne stumbles upon the three of you and smiles, neither Mildred nor her brother are arguing, and you don't look uncomfortable.

"Daphne!" Your cousin waves. "Come, come. We need your knowledge on a subject."

She nods, smiling. "May I ask what you need my help with exactly?"

"How does one pretend to be with child?"

She owlishly blinks, tilting her head staring at the woman as if she's lost her mind. "I'm sorry?"

"We are feeding into my aunt's absurd idea of her precious daughter being with child."

Anthony purses his lips, finding himself to be offended more than he had been by Mildred's comments. "I'm not the worst option for a father."

"Moving on," she waves him off before returning her attention to his sister. "We need information."

"And you want to do this?" She turns to face you.

Your eyes widen slightly, not realizing she was going to ask. "I think it would be... nice to show mother how well her child is without her watchful eye."

"And you're sure this is the way to do it?"

You shrug, "it's not so much if I think this is okay, it's more like she needs to realize I am my own person and can live a life without her dictating everything for me."

Daphen nods, "okay. I will help."

Mildred smiles and interlocks her arm with the Bridgerton girl's. "Come, we have much to discuss."

You turn to your future husband and raise a brow.

He stares at the two, wondering what advice his sister could have to offer before holding his arm out for you to hold onto as you all return to the hall for dinner.

"Are you sure about this?"

You hum, not having listened to a word he said.

"I asked if you're sure about this. Mildred and I were joking, we don't expect you to play along with this idea."

"Your kind, but this is something I need to do. She won't listen to reason if I tell her I don't need her help, she'll involve herself, no matter what."

"And this is how you'll get her to stop?"

You sigh, "we'll see."

The dinner was entertaining for most, you felt bad for embarrassing Violet and the Bridgerton name all to get your mother off your back, but you felt there was no other way to stop her from inserting her wants and needs before yours.

That was the first night you had a stern talking to from your future mother-in-law and- even though you could have thought of a better way to handle the situation, it felt nice to be taken care of the way a child should, compared to the way your mother raised you.

You didn’t talk to your cousin or future husband after and went to bed with too much on your mind.

Then came the wedding, it was as lovely as could be even if it was short notice and only family was invited.

It came as a surprise to everyone, mainly yourself, when your mother decided it was time to stop and act like a caring parent.

She smiled and fixed a piece of hair that was out of place. “I know this isn’t the wedding you dreamed about-”

“I didn’t dream of a wedding often.”

She sighs, realizing she’s been putting words in your mouth rather than stopping to listen to you. “I never dreamed of marrying someone I didn’t love. If I were to ever get married, I’d rather it be with someone I could have a future with than someone who would rather be with another.”

"I know."

"And you know what else- you know?"

She nods, "I've been trying to relive my life through you, and it isn't fair. I'm here to watch you marry the man who will provide, take care of you," she cups your cheeks. "And love you the way you deserve."

You shake your head, fighting to keep your composure, not wanting anyone to know of your breakdown. "He doesn't love me."

She nods, "he does, you just can't see it."

"How-"

Your mother shushes you, "it's time."

The reality of the situation didn't hit you until it was time to walk down the aisle but with the help of Mildred and Daphne, you were able to overcome it.

That was also the only time you've felt the lips of your husband.

Since the wedding it feels as though all the progress you two made was wasted, even Mildred was tired of your constant complaints before and after she left.

You sit in the library, biting your nail until it hurts and turn the page; a new habit of yours, one Eloise would be proud of.

You started hiding away to read when everyone went off to live their lives now that the beginning of yours has ended started. You’ve been reading more since your cousins’ departure; it was a tearful morning but you're happy to know she’s out living her life the way she wants.

Then Daphne and Simon left the hall so they could return to their lives in their own home with little Augie.

You've tried to go out with Violet and Lady Danbury, but they preferred to ask when you two would expand your family; safe to say you also hide in here for another reason.

The youngest Bridgerton’s are swept away for their studies as they continue to grow. Francesca and Eloise are nowhere to be found half the time (hence where you got the idea).

You don't know if you'd be able to handle talking to the other two brothers since marrying the eldest. The comments they make at breakfast are enough, going on a walk with them would be too much.

Not that you mind the quiet even if it does get lonely at times.

You push yourself off the ground, placing the book back in its place only now realizing how dark it had gotten and your candle has died, providing little light to guide you; its barely the size of your thumb and the wick is dying the longer you stay here.

You open the door, carefully closing it and wince as the hinges creaking echoes down the hallway. You pause at the sound of footsteps only to hear a familiar girls whisper. "Hyacinth?"

She smiles, "what are you doing here?"

"I was reading."

"In the dark?"

You two glance down at your source of light that died as soon as she mentioned it. "The candles died."

“Can you take me back to my room?”

You smile and nod, “of course I can.” You grab her hand and try to find your way back to the hallway where her room is.

“Finally, we found it.” You glance down at her, “I told you, we would.”

She smiles up at you with a sleepy expression. “I knew you would.”

You open the door and get her settled into bed before exiting.

You wonder what it would be like to have your own child and stop. Are you really thinking about what it would be like to have a child when you haven’t seen your husband since your wedding day?

You shake your head and continue down the hallway before turning around, realizing you made a wrong turn; you sigh, leaning against the railing, staring at the ballroom floor.

You remember the first time you arrived at the hall and saw him. You didn’t know why your heartbeat was so fast until your cousin explained it to you.

You wonder if he knows how you feel and if that’s the reason, he’s been avoiding you.

“What are you doing awake at this hour?”

You spin around and find- “Ben!” You cross your arms to cover you.

He smiles, “what are you doing out of bed and away from your husband?”

You take the jacket he offers you, “I’d rather be reading but my candle died- oh no.”

“What?”

“I left it in your sister’s room.”

“Ah, so you’ve seen the whole family other than the one man you should be seeing.”

“Quiet now, Benedict. Unless you want others to know you’ve seen your brother’s wife in her night dress.”

“It wouldn’t be the biggest scandal our family has dealt with.”

You lower your head, rubbing your forehead at his words. “You’re an idiot. I’m going to bed.”

Anthony had a rough night and going to bed was something he desperately needed, maybe seeing your figure laying in our shared bed would make him feel better; he always seems to calm down when his eyes land on you.

That was something he always enjoyed about you whenever you were around.

He stops removing his coat when the door opens, and his brother is behind you while you stay in the doorway with his coat around your shoulders.

His brother takes the item from you and takes his leave before Anthony starts asking questions (not before Benedict gives him a suggestive look).

He doesn’t want to ask- he shouldn’t ask, it’s not his place. “Something I should know about?” He hopes this doesn’t lead to a fight.

“What do you mean?”

“We’re going to pretend as if my brother walking you, my wife, wouldn’t be a scandal if we were elsewhere.”

“Why? Don’t you trust me?” You ask, tired of all the games; him avoiding you and now having an interest in you.

“Do you know how much it affects me?”

An annoyed sigh escapes him, revealing to you how he feels (about the situation and not yourself). “What affects you, sweetheart?”

You ball your fists, “stop calling me that.”

He can’t call you such an endearing name when he hasn’t been acting like your husband. “That is what a husband is supposed to call his wife, is it not? A charming word of endearment for a handsome lady, such as yourself.”

“Stop talking…”

“What else am I to call you? I cannot call you by your name, it would prove-”

“How little we care for each other.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You. I’m talking about you.”

“Me?”

“You are a pest.”

“A pest,” he whispers, finding himself offended.

“You have never once thought of myself in the manner of being one’s wife but yet you act like this.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re my husband.”

“Am I not?”

You study him. “You want to make a big deal out of this when you’ve been avoiding me since the wedding? Therefore, you are a pest.”

“I- I haven’t- when was I avoiding you?”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

He struggles to remove his coat and you make your way towards him, helping him.

“Your brother found after I helped Hyacinth get back to bed after she found me exiting the library. He didn’t want anyone else to see me in such a… intimidate manner.”

You stare at him through your lashes. “Anything else you want to add? Maybe,” you place his jacket on the back of the chair before taking a seat at the vanity. You start removing the pins and ribbons keeping your hair up, your tiredness hitting you as you prepare for bed.

He sighs, untying his collar. “I wasn’t avoiding, I’ve been… busy.”

“Busy? You’ve been busy?” You undo the sheets, settling onto your side. “I’m going to sleep until you can come up with another excuse on why you’ve been avoiding me.”

“I- believe me when I say I wasn’t avoiding you because I- this isn’t easy.”

You spring up, glaring at him. “And you think this is easy for me?”

“I’m not saying anything about our marriage. I have been,” he pauses, thinking of the right word. “Dealing with personal matters, things you shouldn’t have to worry about because of a mistake I made in the past. I am trying to protect this because I care about you.”

You gulp, “I’m sorry.”

“What was that?”

You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you stare at the ceiling. “I’m sorry for thinking you were avoiding me but to be fair,” you spring forward, pointing to him. “I- I-“ You struggle to speak as you catch the sight of his bare chest.

He knows what he’s doing to you and his chest warms at the thought of only you being the one to see him in such an intimate way.

You turn away, fiddling with the sheets. “Like I said, I’m sorry for assuming the worst but considering-“ You close your eyes, following the way his lips moved against yours. You push him away, the warmth of his chest lighting a fire within you. “Just because we are married, does not mean you can use your body to change the subject or get me to stop talking about something you don’t want to.”

The corner of his smile twitches before he allows himself to smirk.

You’ve only ever seen him use this expression with his family, never once was it directed at you.

You’re happy tonight ended the way it has, you’re feeling closer to him, learning more of what makes Anthony Bridgerton tick.

He closes his eyes, chest heaving with every breath he takes. “I’m here.” He pulls away from you.

Your hand falls at your side.

His figure fades away, leaving you confused.

You burst up, confused as to what your dream means and glance beside you, finding him still asleep. You push yourself out of bed, needing the get away for a moment, sitting in the bench underneath the window.

You stare at the stars, wondering if there was some way, they’d be able to respond to your questions. It’s only been several days since your marriage became official; you still feel as though you’re not and none of is real.

You think back to your first kiss you two shared at the altar and the one you shared before going to bed. Your fingertips brush against your lips, relishing the sensation you felt then as it fills you with something you never thought you’d be able to enjoy.

‘Is this what love is?’ You think, staring at the bright moon, knowing it won’t answer you.

You glance back at him and wonder if he’ll ever love you the way-. You wipe away the stray tear, knowing how much it’d break you if he decided to cheat or leave you entirely.

Your greatest fear was thinking you’d end up alone.

Now you fear he’d be the one to leave you without looking back.

He squints, the moonlight disturbing his slumber. “What are you doing up?”

Your head snaps in his direction. “Hmm?”

He repeats his question, sitting up in bed, his night shirt wrinkled and slipping off his chest.

“I couldn’t sleep,” you tell him, not believing your own words. You crawl back into bed when you notice he won’t fully fall asleep until you’re near.

As soon as you settle onto your side, his breathing evens out.

You lay your head on the pillow, fighting the thoughts you know will keep you awake, feeling you’ll need more sleep than anything.

"We need to try for a child."

He glances up from his work. "I didn't realize your mother was in town."

You narrow your eyes to him, something he is truly fond of even if you are upset with him. "I'm going to pretend as if you didn't say that."

You close the door and pace around the floor in front of his desk.

“If you find yourself calm enough to talk, could you repeat what you said when you busted into my office.”

He knows what you said, there's no denying what he's heard but what's got you riled up to bring up such a topic.

The wedding was only three weeks prior, he knows of the idle gossip some of the other women enjoy talking amongst each and he's curious as to who said something.

He's also been trying to keep himself busier than usual to keep him from staying up too late and thinking of performing such acts upon you. He sets his pen down, giving you his full attention. “Why are you asking now?”

“I’m not asking,” you argue.

Is it such a wise idea to try and push for this? Most likely not but you're too upset over the gossip to think logically.

He studies you for a moment, wanting to understand what happened to make you think such a thing.

“What happened? I mean, you and Daphne went out for a walk, right?”

You pause, trying to understand where he’s getting at before nodding.

“Who said something to you?” He raises his brow.

“No one… exactly,” you huff, crossing your arms.

“I know they’re expecting me to be with child by now or at least, in the works of trying for a baby and I don’t want there to be another Whistledown column with either of our names in it. It’s not just my reputation that could be ruined, it could be yours or your family’s this time.”

He can’t help but smile at your kind thoughts. “I appreciate the concern and I’m sure my family would as well, but everything is going to be fine. We don’t need to worry about this.”

You continue having your pity party. “I’m glad you seem to think so.” You furrow your brows, thinking about how he’s avoiding the topic. “Why are you putting this off?”

“Putting what off?”

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t act as coy as your brothers do when asked about their courtships.”

He doesn’t have a way out, does he? A knock on the door alerts him. “I have other business to attend to, I’ll see you at dinner?”

You scoff, “you pretend as if you want me and need me when we are in our shared room but now that we are out in the open you want nothing to do with me? Tell me, are you just using me for your own gain?”

He sighs, “please, can we,” he glances at the door to find his brother. “Talk about this another time?”

You nod, offering a fake smile, “of course, husband.”

His attention turns to you once more, “I thought we weren’t going to have the normal marriage?”

“It seems we were both wrong.” You shrug. “Goodnight, husband.” You yank the door open, rushing past Benedict and the guest without looking back.

Kate smiles watching as you put yourself further away from the one person she wants. “It seems you and your bride are having minor troubles, may I?”

Anthony grits his teeth. “What’s brought you here, to my family’s hall, today?”

Her mischievous smile turns into an evil smirk, “I’ve come to visit an old friend, after all, didn’t you say I was always welcome?”

“That was before you tried to take my family’s fortune and run off.”

She plays with the cuff of his coat sleeve. “If it makes you feel better, I have a husband.”

“Then you should be with him.” He removes her hand from him.

If this had happened a year ago, he would be crawling back into her embrace but now that he has you, the only person that can keep him sane; he’s not going to make that mistake.

He sits down at his desk, rereading the page he was working on when you came in. He knows he’d be stupid if he fell for her tricks once more and ruined your marriage (and family name).

She pouts, not liking the fact that he doesn’t want her anymore.

“Perhaps you should go back to your home. We must clean up for dinner,” Benedict chimes in.

She spins to face the second eldest, “dinner? I’d love to.”

Anthony pushes himself out of the chair. “That’s not an invitation.”

“Why? Are you scared I’m going to ruin your precious marriage? You truly think I’d be harsh to do such a thing?”

“We don’t need to think it if we know.”

She smirks in trump, feeling as though she’s won.

You glance at the two with a sinking feeling in your stomach.

Is this the way your marriage is going to end? It took a while before you could remember where you knew her from and as soon as it clicked, you were fidgeting in your seat. Why did he allow her to sit so close to him?

She knows he's a married man and doesn't care. Maybe she thinks the marriage is fake and- you aren't worthy enough to be his wife.

You push the food around on your plate, your appetite forgotten. You remember the rumors about their relationship but could never be proven since she went back to India with her mother but now that she's back, you don't know what to think.

He notices and wishes that she didn't invite herself to join his family tonight.

You ask him about expanding the family line and him avoiding the topic entirely because he doesn't want you to feel as though this is a duty the two of you have to do.

He remembers when you two were first engaged and how you wanted to marry someone who truly loved you rather than someone marrying you out of a convenience.

His heartbeat when you told you should try for a child, he nearly passed out on the spot at the thought of you baring one of his children.

He knows you'd make fantastic mother; he doesn't doubt that in the least but since the wedding day he's realized something he should have a long time ago- something Kate is seeing for herself; he truly loves you.

Nowhere is it near what she thought they had but she's happy that he has someone who cares for him in more ways than she could.

She bids her farewells before pulling you to the side. "I apologize for intruding on your family dinner, but I think you should know you have nothing to worry about."

You furrow your brows. "I'm sorry, what-"

She shakes her head. "He loves you in more ways than he ever could care about me. I saw it tonight." She smiles, "all I ask is that you take care of him better than I could. I know you're good for him."

You stare at the door as it closes, unsure if anything that’s just happened is real or if this is a fever dream.

“Are you alright?”

You turn to face your husband and gulp. “Perfectly fine, why do you ask?”

“Did- She didn’t say anything, did she?”

The blank expression from your face falls and is replaced by one of annoyance. “What if she told me something she shouldn’t have? Is there something you wanted her to hide from me?”

He shakes his head, “is it too late to say no?”

You scoff, “you’re an idiot.” You close the door, not caring if it slams shut or not.

He stops it before it closes in his face, “I’m sorry I- it’s not true.”

“Then what is? Why do you care whether she’s told me about yours and her relationship or not? I know about you two. I’ve read the columns and-”

“That’s what I was worried about. I don’t want you to think something that isn’t true happened.” He stands behind the chair in front of your vanity. “I don’t want you think I’m a rake when I’m not, us marrying has changed things-”

“Us getting married is the only reason you’ve changed?”

“No,” he stumbles over his words, something he does more when he’s around you than anyone else he’s ever spoken to. “I-”

You push yourself out of the chair and walk towards the bed. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore. I keep pushing and I’m sorry but right now, I just want to go to sleep.”

“After you listen to what I have to say.”

“I have not felt the way I do for anyone else. I- no words can come close to what I feel for you.”

His grip tightens on the back of the chair. “I cannot- cannot breathe when you are near.” He catches your gaze, “you drive me insane when you try and argue with me. I don’t understand how you have vexed me and stolen my every thought. When you are here all I can think of is you, when you go out with my sister, you are the one thing on my mind. I- you, you are the bane of my existence, but I can’t seem to keep myself from you.”

You turn around, catching his gaze in the mirror. “Why are you telling me this?”

He spins around, “so you understand why I have changed. It’s not because I don’t care for you. I care too much about you. I have for a long time which is why I was scared when that bee was near you.” He squeezes his eyes shut. “I was terrified I was going to lose you and I didn’t understand why until our marriage.”

“But- that was days ago.”

“Exactly,” he takes a step closer. “I’ve been losing my mind trying not to push you into something you’re not ready for. And then, earlier when you came to me, telling me we should try for a child. I didn’t know what to think.”

“What about Kate?”

He owlishly blinks, trying to understand where you’re coming from. “What about her?”

“You’ve been with women before me and I’ve accepted that, but Kate was here, having dinner with your family. She’s- she’s been around town from what I’ve heard being whispered behind my back. She was here and you didn’t tell me. You- you say that you love me, but I don’t know what to believe when the woman you were in love with, who later broke your heart, returned into your life and you didn’t so much as think to tell me. Benedict was more involved than I was!”

You don’t know why you’re getting so upset over this, it shouldn’t bother you this much since you don’t-

“I didn’t want her to spout lies about me to you and make you think I am not going to be a good husband.” He grabs your hands, “believe me when I say she is not relevant. You are my future.”

Your chest heaves with every breath you take. “How-” Your nose twitches as you purse your lips, collecting your thoughts before you completely explode.

“How what?” He switches between looking into one eye and then the other.

“How could I be blind?”

“To what?”

“I have loved you since I could understand what the word meant and now you- you-” You gesture to your back, “help me with my corset. I cannot breathe.”

He nearly rips your dress off you as he pulls the strings keeping the oxygen from getting into your lungs.

You hang your head, trying to keep your emotions at bay.

“Sweetheart…”

You turn around, pointing at him with wet cheeks. “You have ruined me. You have ruined me for any other man since before my first debutant and have had my heart for just as long and I didn’t know it yet.”

He holds his hand out for you, allowing you to take a step closer to him.

You accept and stand with a few inches between you two. “You have bewitched me from the beginning, if you can accept my foolishness and accept me now, I would happily give myself to you only if you can return the feelings.”

“I wouldn’t be able to survive if I declined your love.”

For the first time since the wedding, the two of you share a genuine kiss and not one where he tries to use his body to distract you. It’s one that makes it feel like the world’s stopped spinning and you two are the only ones in the world.

A knock on the door alerts the two of you.

You wince, covering your eyes with your hand before reaching over for him. “Anthony, wake up.”

“I’m coming in and I hope you two are decent.” She groans, “God, you two are naked. Gross.” Mildred complains loudly to whoever stands outside the door with her. “I thought they’d at least have the decency to be awake by now.”

You can hear Benedict’s voice, but it comes out all muffled because you’re not fully awake.

He opens his eyes and turns his head to find your beautiful face lying beside him, hair in disarray on the pillow. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone. “Good morning, Viscountess Bridgerton.”

You find it hard to resist the urge to smile and open your eyes, staring at him with nothing but love and happiness. You hum, brushing back his hair so it doesn’t look as messy, wanting to see more of his handsome face.

“Good morning, Viscount Bridgerton.” You remove your hand from his hair, pulling his hand away from your cheek to peck his palm. “What do you have planned for today?”

“Spending time with my wife, although I do have to say, I don’t think she’d appreciate me lying in bed with someone as breathtaking as yourself.”

You can’t help but smile. “I think if you paid her the same comments you do to me, she’d understand.”

He sucks in air through his teeth, “I don’t know. I think you’d have to meet her to find out the kind of woman she is.”

“I think I know.” You lean against your elbow, meeting him halfway for a morning kiss.

“Would you two hurry up? We have plans. I did not come here on a boat to see you two to stay in bed when I have plans with my cousin. Do you hear me, Bridgerton?”

He sighs, flopping back onto his back. “How could I not?”

You smack his chest before pushing yourself out of bed. “I’ll be ready soon. Go downstairs and wait for me, Millie.”

“If you’re not down here before sunset. I’m leaving.”

You chuckle to yourself. “Okay.”

He pulls you closer to him, hands resting against your waist, slowly wrapping around you. He kisses the exposed parts of your back before pulling you down, kissing along your shoulders.

“This cannot be safe.”

“Just because it’s a new corset, doesn’t mean it’s not safe.”

“For the baby.” He ties the strings through the loops. “When can we tell them?”

“When they won’t freak out.”

“Never, okay.”

You chuckle and spin around, placing your hands on his shoulders. “They will know soon. It’ll be fine.”

He stares into your eyes. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I think that’s my line.”

“Not today.”

You peck his lips before ordering him to tie the corset. “I’ll see you after our walk.”

“Don’t overexert yourself.”

“I won’t. Goodbye, ‘Thony.”

His eyes never left yours as you’re dragged away by your cousin.

Benedict steps inside. “Someone’s happy.”

He shakes his head, ignoring his brother; so happy go feed into the comments.

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deer-diary-from-hell · 13 days

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Ik yall don’t fw toon handlers BUT I PUT TOO MUCH WORK IN THEIR DESIGNS

This is why I can’t be trusted with human designs bruh

Michael

He/him

Toon handler of Adam and Eve

in his early 30’s

Adam will describe him as ‘Caring, funny and optimistic’

He loves Adam and Eve equally but dear god does Eve scare the shit out of him

according to him ‘Adam is a handful to deal with, especially when he was first created. Too much energy for me to keep up with to the point I’m surprised he hadn’t completely trashed the place yet, Eve is the opposite, you could say she’s easy to take care of.’

In a relationship with Harry, keeps it a secret but Beth and Adam already knew

Adrianna is his step-sibling. He did a good job mending their used-to-be-broken friendship together

Harry

He/him, They/them

Toon handler of Beth

In his late 30s

Beth describes him as ‘Calm, patient and hardworking’

Beth and Harry had a very rocky start since at first Beth wasn’t exactly ‘nice’ but after awhile (and when season 2 of the show came out) she was behaving a lot better now and became a better person thanks to him

According to Harry “Even though Beth didn’t have a pleasant attitude that doesn’t mean she wasn’t capable to change and I’m glad I was patient enough to see that change.”

In a relationship with Michael

Friends with Adrianna, was the one that convinced her to give Michael another chance

Adrianna

She/her

Toon handler of Lucent

in her early 30s

Lucent describes her as ‘Strict, humble and respectful’

Adrianna is taking good care of lucent. She doesn’t say it and claims she’s just doing it for money but deep down she genuinely cares for this guy and wants to see him succeed in his music career

According to Adrianna “Lucent wasn’t much of a hassle, they can still cause some trouble like getting into an argument with other toons but other than that they are surprisingly aren’t too bad to deal with, over the time I noticed them copy my mannerisms which is cute I guess.”

Aroace (gets hit with a brick)

Used to hate Michael due to some bad family drama that happened which soured their relationship, met and became friends with Harry. It took a lot from Harry to finally convince her to finally talk to Michael after years of no contact of eachother

Thank you for reading and have some fuckass drawings

#toon handlers #dandys world #vee dandy’s world #dandys world oc #dandy’s world oc #fanart #the pages of the diary(🦌📝)

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jokeringcutio · 9 months

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Stepdad!William Afton x Reader "Pregnant" Mature/Drabble [1]

FNAF | William Afton (stepdad!) x (f) Reader | MATURE Summary: Imagine: Your mom is pregnant and tells you the 'joyful' news. She doesn't know you carry a child from your stepdad as well. Only, you are not allowed to share the news with anyone. AN: These drabbles are in no particular order and not necessarily related. But they are all Stepdad!WilliamAfton x !StepdaughterReader Universe. This could follow up on Christmas Present.

Warnings: talk about dub-con/taboo relationship, keeping it a secret, angst, drama, William being mean.

"Come join us at the table, dear," your mom called out to you, her voice brimming with excitement. You reluctantly took a seat, forcing a smile onto your face as she presented a sonogram in front of you. William, your stepdad, stood nearby, his involvement in all this clear by the proud look on his face.

The sight of the sonogram made your stomach churn. No, all but that, you silently pleaded. But the picture was still there. No lie in it.

An unborn child, a baby, already very much formed, sucking its thumb, stared back at you. She wasn’t just pregnant, she must have been for a while. It explained why she started to eat more and had gained weight. You should have noticed. Fighting back the nausea threatening to overwhelm you, you continued to feign happiness for your mom and stepdad's sake.

"Can you believe it?" your mom gushed. "You're finally going to have a sibling! I've wanted to give you a brother or sister for so long, but I never had the chance. And now that I'm getting older, I thought it might be too late. But it's like a Christmas miracle!" She laughed, lost in her joy. "I swear it must have happened on Christmas Eve."

You tried to stomach the details, politely listening while feeling sick to your core. Your eyes searched William's face for any sign of guilt, but he only looked back at you impassively, raising his fingers to his lips in a hushing gesture. Christmas Eve. A miracle indeed, you thought. You remembered the evening well, how William came to your room before going back to your mother. You forced another smile, wishing the conversation could end.

"Mom, Dad, I'm really happy for you both," you managed to choke out, hoping your words sounded genuine. And you would have been, if not for your stepdad constantly putting his cock inside of you behind your mom’s back. You felt guilty and dirty and quite frankly, you felt like a cheap toy to him. Yet, you had grown to love his touches. You craved him.

William Afton had become a need in your life.

And so you would have been happy for your mom if she had married any other man than your stepfather.

"Congratulations, Mom," you whispered, wrapping your arms around her in a tight embrace. You could tell she appreciated the gesture, and for a moment you thought you could fake your way through this. William be damned. He couldn’t break the bond between mother and daughter. Not with his manipulative games, not with his secrets, and not with his control over you. But then, the traitorous nauseating churn in your stomach grew stronger as she clung to you, her joy infectious yet painful for you to witness.

"Thank you, sweetie," she said, pulling back and beaming at you. Your vision blurred, the nausea intensifying until it was unbearable. "I'm just so –"

"Excuse me," you interrupted, clamping a hand over your mouth as you bolted from the table, but it was too late. The contents of your stomach spilled out, splattering across the table in a vile mess.

"Are you okay?" your mom asked, concern etched into her face. "You've been unwell a lot recently."

"Sorry, I'm fine," you lied once the heaving finally stopped, cheeks burning with shame as you grabbed tissues from the counter and started cleaning up the mess. You couldn't let her know the truth. William would kill you if you told her.

"Maybe you should see a doctor soon," your mom suggested, glancing at William for support. "Don't you think that's a good idea?"

He nodded, his arms crossed and expression stoic. "Yes, it might be best."

"Thanks for worrying, Mom," you mumbled, your heart thudding in your chest as you wiped away the last traces of vomit. "I promise I'll make an appointment."

"Good," she said, relief flickering in her eyes. "I just want you to be healthy and happy."

"Me too," you whispered, forcing a smile.

With a final swipe, you finished cleaning your mess and rushed past William to throw the dirty tissues in the trash. "Congratulations on becoming a dad again," you said, trying to sound sincere.

"Thank you," he responded with a nasty grin, his voice dripping with malice. "I've always wanted more kids."

His words twisted like a knife in your gut as you retreated to the living room. Your mom beckoned William over, her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Come sit with me, let's think of names for our little miracle."

You watched them for a little while, your heart heavy with sadness, feeling more alone than ever. Why was your stepdad this way, you wondered?

Unable to bear it any longer, you fled to your room, closing the door a bit too loudly behind you. Frustration bubbled up inside you, threatening to explode. You groaned and threw yourself onto your bed, tears streaming down your face as you cried out in despair.

"Damn you, William," you choked between sobs, placing a trembling hand on your stomach. "How could you do this to me? How could you do this to my mom? You knew it, you knew all along that something like this could happen and yet -"

You bit your lip and never finished that sentence. Instead, you pulled a yellowing pregnancy test from beneath your pillow – two purple lines stared back, cold and unyielding, a stark reminder of your fate.

The memory of William barging into your room, a smug grin plastered on his face, came rushing back. He had casually tossed you the pregnancy test, demanding that you take it immediately.

"Go on," he'd sneered, "make sure you get it right."

“I’m not pregnant,” you had said boldly. It was what you had hoped, after all. A baby would complicate so many things. It sounded like a nightmare, not a dream. Not like this.

You recalled the humiliation and fear as he forced you to go to the bathroom, standing by your side like a perverse sentinel as you peed on the stick. His eyes never left you, a twisted fascination in his gaze, and you couldn't shake off the feeling of being violated.

"Good girl," he'd said mockingly once you were done, the words dripping with malice. He’d celebrated the outcome of the test quite elaborately. “Let’s see if we can make it twins.” You felt dirty thinking back of it.

Now, staring down at the damning evidence in your hand, you thought about how you probably got pregnant around the same time as your mom. The realization churned your stomach, the sheer wrongness of it all making your head spin. Both of you, carrying this man's child – it was too much to bear.

"Fuck you, William," you whispered bitterly, clenching the pregnancy test tightly in your hand. Your breaths came in shallow and ragged as you tried to calm yourself, focusing on the sensation of the life growing inside you.

"Stay strong," you told yourself, trying to push away the dark thoughts swirling in your mind. "This baby... this baby is innocent. It’s his doing. He is trying to break this family apart."

A knock on the door startled you, and you quickly hid the stick beneath your pillow. Grabbing a book, you pretended to read, hoping to mask your tear-streaked face.

"Sweetie, can I come in?" your mom asked, stepping into the room. Her eyes scanned your face, noting the redness and damp trails on your cheeks. "Oh, sweetheart…I know it's a lot to take in," she said gently, "but I really want you to be happy for me."

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to muster a smile. "Of course, Mom. I'm happy for you both."

"Thank you," she said, her voice soft and grateful. "And with me getting further along in my pregnancy, I'll probably need your help more around the house. Can I count on you? I think you’d be a wonderful big sister."

"Sure, Mom," you agreed, your voice barely audible. As you spoke, William appeared in the hallway, his chilling gaze locked onto yours. He wordlessly flashed two sonograms – one of your mom's baby, the other of your own – before placing a finger to his lips, warning you to stay silent. You had to be quiet; you knew that much.

"Of course, I'll help you, Mom," you reassured her, forcing a smile. "Because I am young and strong."

Her eyes softened, and she reached out to squeeze your hand. "Thank you, sweetheart," she murmured.

Suddenly, you felt a flutter within your belly – a small kick from the life growing inside you. Your eyes turned wide as you prayed no one had seen it. Your mom’s eyes were still soft and focused on your face. But your stepdad’s cold blues had darted down to your stomach.

As your mom left the room, William's sinister presence lingered in the doorway, then vanished.

How long could you keep this little life hidden?

AN: For more, follow me (:

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#stepdad!william afton #stepdad x stepdaughter #stepdad!william afton x reader #william afton x reader #pregnant reader #angst

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vivid-ink · 1 year

Note

okay since ur req is open rn i have an idea and ofc i don’t mind waiting, take ur time w it! basically it’s a neteyam x reader angst + fluff (oblivious idiots + opposites attract trope) whereby reader is loak’s bestfriend, who also has a crush on neteyam but keeps it a secret bcs she thought neteyam sees her as another troublesome little sibling like loak but what she doesn’t know is that neteyam also has a crush on her but he thought she sees him only as loak’s boring and non adventurous older brother. idk how it should go from that but can you please PLEASE ends it w fluff 🙏 thank you in advance! feel free to change anything and take as much time as you’d need bby 💓

Thank you for your request anon! 😁 I got on to this a lot quicker than I thought as my ideas for it came to me & boy did it just flow! I thought it was going to be a quick drabble, but holy moly, how have I ended up with 11.3k words of angst, drama, romance & sweet, sweet fluff! I hope you love it, anon! And I hope everyone else enjoys it too!

"Your Best Friend's Brother"

Pairing: Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya Reader No warnings apply - Just a boat-load of angst, drama, protective & possessive Neteyam, romance & toe-curling fluff. Again, I personally do not like the use of 'Y/N' so your name in this is 'Kalia' (pronounced KAA-lee-yah). Language note - paskalin means 'sweet berry' and it's a term of endearment.

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~

Neteyam trudged through the verdant underbrush of the woodlands following the sound of playful slapping and squealing in the distance where he was sure he would find you and Lo’ak. He rolled his eyes with a sigh, wondering what mischief and hazardous activities you would both be getting up to today. Fiddling with the string of his bow across his front, he readjusted his bow to sit more comfortably across his torso. The little leather pack that contained his carving implements and bow oil bounced lightly at his hip as he walked.

Granted, it was nice having days off from his warriors’ duties. Group hunts and patrols could be strenuous depending on the game being hunted and the distance travelled, so the days where he could just relax on home ground and let loose were appreciated. Until his parents foisted the responsibility of keeping Lo’ak out of trouble on him…

Lo’ak was only a year younger than him, but Neteyam often ruminated and marvelled at how his brother’s maturity level was still leagues behind his own. Of course, being the oldest child did force one to grow up a little too quickly, but at already seventeen years of age, one would think that Lo’ak would have a better compass and not such a huge proclivity for getting into trouble.

If Neteyam was honest, the only thing that made the days he had to babysit his brother bearable was you.

You and Lo’ak might as well be joined at the hip. The best of friends since you could both walk, everywhere Lo’ak went, you went with him. Every stupid little game or dangerous stunt Lo’ak pulled, you were right there beside him. You had always tagged along with Lo’ak and his other siblings. So, for the longest time, Neteyam had not thought much of the way things were and it had not bothered him; you and Lo’ak, the disruptive duo.

However, things had begun to shift ever so subtly for Neteyam as he grew older, as you all did, growing and maturing into young adults. The older he got, the more he noticed you. His body started to react and respond to you in a way that made him increasingly aware that he was a young man and you were a young woman.

Neteyam began to notice the way your beautiful braids brushed the small of your back. He began to notice the enticing way your slim waist flared out to the curve of your hips and your bottom; the soft rounds of your breasts behind your clothing…

It had hit him quite suddenly one evening and things had never been the same since.

*** FLASHBACK ***

“Kalia!” Neteyam heard Tuk cry gleefully. His little sister bounced through his family’s shelter to throw herself at you, uncaring of the thumping impact she made against your thighs. Your laugh was jovial as you bent to give Tuk a hug, expertly balancing the wooden platter you held in your other hand.

Neteyam watched as you greeted his parents politely at the threshold, stepping into the space only when his mother welcomed you in with a wave of her hand. Neytiri embraced you affectionately and returned your greeting, “Oel ngati kameie, Kalia. Come in. What wonderful food have you brought to spoil us with today?”

The wooden platter held two mounds, one much bigger than the other, both wrapped in cooking cloth. You gently set the platter down in the centre of the space where the food mats were, “Mother and I have been practising making tumpasuk (red-orange berry) sweet bread. This batch was quite successful so we thought we’d share.”

“Ah, you know your cooking is always welcome in my household.” Jake sniggered, patting his belly enthusiastically.

Reaching back towards the platter, you picked up the smaller wrapped mound of bread and rose to your feet. Neteyam saw you scan the vicinity and his heart gave an involuntary skip when your vivid green eyes eventually landed on him and your gazes locked. A small smile played across your lips and he was suddenly drawn to how succulent they looked, a thought that made his ears heat in embarrassment.

You made your way towards him and Neteyam had to make a conscious effort to close his mouth and school his expression into one of nonchalance, lest his face betray the sensual thoughts that his brain had begun to annotate about you as you approached. You had grown very pretty in recent years and despite the nuisance that you and Lo’ak always presented, Neteyam realised that you had always been a very sweet girl. A very sweet, very pretty girl.

“Hey Neteyam,” Your voice was a tender lilt in his ears and he lifted his hands to receive the small mound as you held the sweet treat out to him in both of yours, “This one is for you.”

Neteyam swallowed tightly, hoping the heat in his cheeks and ears were not colouring his skin too obviously, “Thanks, Kalia. I’m sure it’ll taste amazing, as always.”

The soft peal of your giggling tickled his ears then and Neteyam had to resist the urge to reach out and stroke your cheek. Your cyan skin looked so smooth and he was willing to bet that it would be warm and silken beneath his fingertips. The little points of your canines peaked out endearingly from behind your upper lip as you grinned and Neteyam’s nose was suddenly perceptive of an alluring scent that he knew was not the sweetbread in his hands.

“I put more dried tumpasuk berries in yours, as well a little extra rock sugar. I know you like yours sweeter.” You murmured quietly to him.

Neteyam returned your smile, silently allowing himself to bask in the feeling of being looked after specially by you. “I do, you’re right. Thanks again.”

“Hey!” Lo’ak’s voice grated from off to the side, “Why does Neteyam always get his own special treat? I thought I was your best friend!”

“You are, which is why it’s you and I that always get up to no good together.” You agreed heartily, “But your poor brother is the one who has to put up with our shit, so I figured we better thank him?”

Neteyam’s heart sank a little. Oh, was that why he always got his own treat? You were just thanking him as Lo’ak’s babysitter big brother. He suddenly felt a lot less special than he did a few moments ago…

*** FLASHBACK END ***

That had been just over a year ago and ever since then, Neteyam had grown more and more critical of your friendship with Lo’ak. Your spirited friendship with his brother seemed more at odds now to him than it ever had before. You had matured into a young woman who appeared to have her head screwed on the right way, kind-hearted and generous with good instincts. Yet all of this seemed to vaporise into thin air the moment you were around Lo’ak.

Neteyam did not understand why you persisted on accompanying his brother on his silly little escapades, playing stupid games like seeing who could pinch and punch the other the hardest. By Eywa, Neteyam had wanted to punch Lo’ak the day he had seen the bruises and marks he had left on your shoulders and arms. The thought of someone intentionally causing you pain and marring your beautiful skin made his blood boil, even though he knew that you had willingly participated in the ridiculous exercise.

But most of all, Neteyam hated the way Lo’ak’s recklessness endangered you.

Not that this meant he cared any less for Lo’ak’s safety than yours. He loved his brother and all his other siblings immensely and there was a natural desire on his part to keep them all safe. However, his impulse to protect you felt different. It was not rooted in the same place of familial love and affection he felt for his siblings. Instead, the strong urge he felt to protect you rather stemmed from his attraction to you as a male was to a female he was interested in.

If Neteyam had his way, you would never go on another irresponsible adventure with Lo’ak ever again. And this put him at odds with his brother. However, he acknowledged that getting in the way of your friendship would be wrong and he knew it would sour things overall for all three of you.

Neteyam had to find a way to curb this newfound possessiveness that he felt for you. You were not his and he was nothing more to you than your best friend’s older brother. His role was to keep an eye on Lo’ak; keep Lo’ak out of trouble and he would keep you out of trouble by default. Simple as that. Nothing more.

Your squeals and peals of laughter became clearer as Neteyam rounded the corner of a lush coppice into a glade of fyìpmaut (squid fruit) trees. Sure enough, as expected, there were you and Lo’ak, chasing each other round the glade with bits of squashed fruit in your fists, stained almost from head to toe in bright pink squid fruit residue.

Perhaps this was a good time to tell you both that fyìpmaut fruit juice stained almost permanently on whatever it came into contact with…

~~ Your POV ~~

“Lo’ak, you sucker!” You yelled out, darting out of the way as Lo’ak attempted to grab hold of you to smear you further with squid fruit, “I’ve got way more fruit on you than you have on me!”

“Yeah? Well I beat you earlier at seed-spitting, so we’re even.”

The glade of squid fruit trees were in high season currently, the trees around you bursting with bright purple fruit. The fruit hung in bunches, much like utumauti (banana fruit). Each piece of fruit was like a long, squidgy antenna, full of magenta coloured flesh that had five or six stony seeds in them.

Fresh from your run through the woodlands earlier with rumbling stomachs, it had been Lo’ak’s idea to stop and feast on your find. What had begun as a sweet and innocent snack-stop had soon turned playful when Lo’ak had challenged you to see who could spit the seeds the furthest. Seeds were spat, a winner was crowned and then you, against your better judgement, had decided to hurl a handful of pulverised fruit at him. War then ensued, which led you both to the present moment, sticky, breathless and dyed bright pink.

Lo’ak flung another piece of squashed fruit at you, which you only just managed to duck out of the way of, laughing, “Ok, alright! Truce?”

Your best friend snorted at the sight of you, “You’ve got it all up in your hair. You’re going to have to scrub your braids out and re-do them all!”

You launched yourself at Lo’ak, tackling him to the ground in a jumble of mock hisses and snarls, before a familiar voice plucked you both out of your tussle.

“Mum is going to twist your ears so hard they’ll fall off, Lo’ak.”

Startled, you shot to your feet at Neteyam’s voice. Self-consciousness overwhelmed you and you avoided meeting his gaze. Great Mother, you must look a mess… Did Lo’ak just say you had fruit in your hair?... You began a futile attempt to clean up by swiping at the bits of fruit on your arms and legs, trying to flick and rub the tacky mess from your skin and clothing.

“Ah, here comes the killjoy. Why is Mum going to twist my ears, bro?” Lo’ak queried, joining you at your side, following your lead and partaking in a fruitless attempt to clean up.

Neteyam’s toned legs came into your downcast view as he stepped up to the pair of you, and you instinctively looked up to acknowledge him. Your saliva dried up in your mouth as it always did when you laid eyes on him. Your quiet crush on him was getting rather out of hand in the confines of your own consciousness. You would never admit to all the times you had daydreamed girlishly of Neteyam, of all the things a girl wanted a boy she liked to do to her; holding his hand; a slow dance in the fading light of a dying bonfire; a kiss…

You had never admitted your feelings to anyone and especially not to Lo’ak. He would never let you live it down, crushing on his older brother. Though you knew Lo’ak had his suspicions about the way you felt.

Lo’ak thought his older brother was a dull and uninspiring killjoy, but if you were honest, you found that Neteyam’s maturity only added to the already large number of reasons you found him attractive. He was gentle, thoughtful, extremely loyal to those he cared about and one of the most skilled warriors the Omatikaya had ever seen. And he was very handsome… compassionate, intellectual, with a lovely deep voice… Your list went on.

“Squid fruit juice stains.” Neteyam stated matter-of-factly, “It’s going to take a lot of scrubbing to get it off your skin. As for your clothing, the stains will never wash out of cloth. These clothes you’re wearing are ruined, both of you.”

You heard Lo’ak bite back a curse as he fiddled with the fabric of his loincloth. It had been a lovely moss green before, but thanks to the addition of the squid fruit juice, it was now a rather unappealing shade of splotchy browns. You sighed, looking at your own ruined chest covering and loincloth. Your clothing had been a shade of lilac and while the magenta-coloured fruit juice did not contrast quite as jarringly against the fabric of your clothing as it did on Lo’ak’s, the stains were still clearly stains. There was no way the splodges would ever pass for artistic embellishment.

“At least, we didn’t get up to any dangerous shit today.” Lo’ak mused, elbowing Neteyam who sprang away lightly from his juice-covered brother with a chuckle.

“Good. We don’t need a repeat of the rock slide incident from the other week.” Neteyam cautioned, pursing his lips, “You could have both gotten really hurt from that.”

“Eh, it was fine. Kalia rolled out of the way in the end, didn’t you?” Lo’ak slapped you heavy-handedly on the back and you winced slightly in pain.

“It was a very close shave. And watch your strength, bro. Don’t be so rough with her.” The rebuke from Neteyam was delivered in an even tone, but there was an authority behind it that made Lo’ak roll his eyes.

“We should probably go and wash as best as we can before heading home.” You exhaled, feeling the stick of the fruit juice between your fingers, “The juice is starting to dry and it’s getting itchy.”

Neteyam was eyeing you up and down with an insouciant expression that betrayed very little of what he might be thinking and feeling in that moment. You were used to this. Neteyam very rarely displayed strong emotion or had dramatic reactions. He was always calm and collected. If Lo’ak was a jaunty and splashing stream, Neteyam was a deep and tranquil lake.

However, his intent gaze only fired the coals of your self-consciousness and you began to pick worriedly through the soiled braids of your hair. You realised then that there were small, drying bits of fruit still clinging to the backs of your fingers, and you stuck your fingers into your mouth one by one, trying to the best of your efforts to suck them clean.

You heard Neteyam suck in a deep breath through his nose and he spun away from you, beginning to amble back the way he came, “There’s a split in the stream farther back where you can both wash. Come on, we want to get back before eclipse.”

Heat flushed your face and ears and you swallowed the lump of shame in your throat. You probably looked absolutely feral, covered in gummy fruit bits and your hair all dishevelled. What girl ever wanted the boy she had a crush on to see her like this? You cursed your short-sightedness. You had known today was Neteyam’s day off and that you would likely see him.

You took a lot of pride in your appearance usually. Your mother always ensured your braids were impeccably done and you had an array of jewellery and clothing that you enjoyed picking through, deciding what you wanted to wear from day to day. Part of the reason was because you enjoyed being well put together, and the other reason was that you wanted to look good for your best friend’s older brother.

Following Lo’ak and Neteyam as they began their walk back to the stream, you mentally chastised yourself. Neteyam probably thought of you as a second nuisance. He already had Lo’ak to contend with from day to day and there you always were, getting into messy situations right along with him. You knew it did not make you look good, but you loved hanging out with Lo’ak. He was your dearest friend and he made you laugh with all his folly.

Reaching the split in the stream, Neteyam nodded towards one side, “Lo’ak and I will take this side. You can wash on the other. We’ll all meet back here when we’re done.”

“OK, got it.” You nodded in understanding.

“Kalia?”

You turned to face Neteyam at the sound of your name, your ears twitching curiously as you wondered why he had called out again.

Neteyam shot you a toothy grin and he chuckled, clearly tickled by something, “Make sure you wash your face really well. You’ve still got squid fruit pieces on your nose and forehead.”

Mortified, your hands flew to your face and sure enough, your fingers met something stodgy in the centre of your forehead. Cursing under your breath you turned on heel and strode for the stream on your side, secretly enjoying the sound of Neteyam’s husky laughter even though it made your cheeks burn in embarrassment.

Wading into the stream, you stopped once the cool water pooled around your hips, not wanting to go any deeper. You had never been comfortable in deep or rushing water. From childhood, you had always had an irrational fear of water. All attempts to teach you to swim had failed, as a result. You could tread water at best, but that could not be considered proper swimming. No matter, you had never held any desire to join the fisherfolk in their work hunting fish and gathering other river prey anyway.

Reaching to draw a cupful of water in your hands, you splashed yourself all over to moisten your skin. You began your arduous process of intently cleaning the fruit stains from your skin, knowing that this was the easy part. Washing your hair would be an even bigger task. You cleaned gently around a bad scrape on your left elbow, careful not to dislodge the healing scab that had formed there.

In the repetitive monotony of splashing, scrubbing and dunking, it was easy for your thoughts to drift back to that fateful day a few weeks ago when you earned that scrape. You had acquired several other grazes and cuts on your thighs and knees that same day too. It was also one of the few days you had ever seen Neteyam abandon his usually measured and composed demeanour in a rare display of emotion…

*** FLASHBACK ***

“I’ve got more rocks than you do.” You teased in a sing-song voice as you watched Lo’ak eye the broken cliff face before you, trying to decide which piece of rock he wanted to dislodge next.

“Yeah, but the rocks in my pile are bigger.” Lo’ak countered, “They’re riskier moves than the tiny little pebbles you’ve picked off.”

It was a dicey game you were playing, and once again it was all Lo’ak’s idea. There was an overhanging arch on the damaged cliff face that stood before you and the aim was to take turns dislodging as many rocks as possible before the overhang crumbled down.

“I thought that the person with the most rocks when the overhang crumbles, wins? Not the person with the biggest rocks.”

Sticking his tongue out at you, Lo’ak picked another hefty looking stone and set his foot on it, attempting to dislodge it with his body’s weight, “Nah, I’ve changed the rules. Person with the most amount of big rocks wins.”

Several smaller stones crumbled from the overhang, smacking and rolling loudly onto the ground in a precarious song of warning at the danger they were trifling with.

“That’s so unfair, you skxawng!” You whined peevishly, “You can’t change the rules partway through the game! Stop being a dick.”

“How about the both of you just stop entirely?” Neteyam’s voice called out as he appeared at the treeline. He had left the two of you for a bit to go down to the river to refill all your waterskins, and look what mischief you had both managed to get up to in that short span of time.

Lo’ak threw his arms up in the air, exasperated, “Nah, don’t ruin the fun, Neteyam. I’ve almost won anyway!”

“Are you kidding me, bro?” Neteyam exclaimed, aghast as he looked from his brother to you and then to your respective piles of rock, “Stop right now. That overhang is going to fall at any moment and it’s dangerous. Get away from there.”

“That’s the whole point, bro! We’re trying to see who can dislodge the most rocks before it crumbles.”

“Is it the most rocks or the biggest rocks?! You keep changing it!” You squealed in frustration. Both you and Lo’ak had strong competitive streaks, and neither of you liked losing.

Sensing your genuine upset, Lo’ak acquiesced and proposed a final tie-break challenge, “Alright, alright! How about this? You see that big rock over by you and this big one here by me? Whoever dislodges it first wins the whole game, once and for all. Never mind our piles.”

“No, no way. Stop it, both of you. We’re leaving now!” Neteyam hissed gravely.

However, neither you nor Lo’ak were paying him any attention. Narrowing your eyes at your best friend, you considered his proposal. You looked at the size of the rock Lo’ak had picked out for you, noted its position and then looked over at the rock he had assigned himself. Yours appeared to be in a better position. It was not wedged in as tightly to the cliff face as his was. You reckoned you could do it.

“Deal.” You called out to Lo’ak, who hooted in triumph despite Neteyam’s snarl of vexation at his side.

Both of you got stuck in immediately, feet and hands all intent on dislodging your respective rocks. Yours wobbled in its spot and you barked out a laugh of impending victory.

Several small rocks fell from overhead then and a thunderous crash echoed from above. What happened next happened so quickly that you were unsure if it had been your rock or Lo’ak’s that had caused the aftermath. The overhang disintegrated in a flash and a slew of mud and jagged rocks came pouring at speed over the edge where the overhang had been.

A cry of surprise left you and you stumbled backwards, tripping and falling painfully onto your side. Instinctively you rolled away from the surge of the rock slide and curled into foetal position, hands and arms over your head with your knees pressed to your chest.

The deafening roar of the rock slide dissipated, leaving a swirling cloud of dust and debris. Its gritty and granular texture stung your nose and you thought you could feel the grainy scratch of the tainted air all the way down your windpipe and into your lungs as you coughed violently.

Slowly uncurling your form, you tested your joints in small movements. You were scratched and scraped, but nothing felt broken or seriously injured. You could faintly make out Lo’ak and Neteyam’s worried voices as they called out to you, and you responded through a tickly throat, “I’m here! I’m OK!”

The rock slide was massive. It had divided you and separated you from the boys where you all stood in a raised wall of rock and mud. Thankfully you were out in the open and so you were not trapped. You just had to climb over the wreckage to get back to the other side.

You saw the rocks at the uppermost part of the wreckage shift and Neteyam’s head poked over the peak, closely followed by Lo’ak who cried, “Oh, shit! Kalia!”

The pair of brothers climbed gingerly over the apex of the wreckage, sliding downward on the slope towards you.

Neteyam reached you first though and you were gradually helped to your feet by his strong and firm hands. His eyes were wide and his breaths rushed from him in harsh pants while he checked you over. He circled you, gently lifting your arms as he went around, looking for any sign of serious injury. He crouched down then to look at the grazes on your legs.

You were a little shaken by the scare of the rock slide, but you were fine and you patted Neteyam’s hands where they clutched at your hips, his eyes focused on a graze along your thigh, “I’m fine, Neteyam. Nothing is broken. They’re only skin wounds.”

His eyes locked with yours for a few moments and they blazed with fury in their golden depths. He rose to his feet and you were prepared for him to berate you, but he swivelled around to Lo’ak instead and unleashed his ire, “You fucking moron! What were you thinking? No, I’ll tell you what, you weren’t thinking! This could have ended so much worse than it has! You should know better than this!”

Lo’ak shrivelled under his brother’s wrath and Neteyam returned his livid eyes to you, “You should know better. Both of you!”

Neteyam was almost vibrating with his rage. His nose was wrinkled and his upper lip was curled back in a snarl. You shrank at the sight, your shame consuming you as his words sunk in. He was right; you and Lo’ak had been extremely reckless.

Frankly, you were lucky to have escaped with your lives.

*** FLASHBACK END ***

That was another thing that you discovered you adored about Neteyam. He forgave easily and he never held a grudge.

You smiled to yourself at the thought. Neteyam had been angry for all of ten minutes at most, before he reverted to his usual caring and concerned self. You appreciated his kindly nature for what it was. Lo’ak, on the other hand, enjoyed pushing people’s buttons and you knew he took his brother’s forgiving nature for granted by always testing his boundaries.

The true blue of your own skin stared back at you as you surveyed your torso and your limbs. Your face felt fresh and your hair, though sopping wet, no longer felt tacky. Satisfied with your scrubbing efforts, you waded back to the mossy bank of the stream where your clothing lay. You had tried to wash those too, but no amount of scouring and wringing had freed the stains from the cloth.

Dressing quickly, you met the boys back at the agreed spot.

Lo’ak’s skin still looked purple in places and his jaw dropped at the squeaky-clean sight of you, “How’d you get all of it off you like that?”

You gloated a little at your job well done and smirked at him, “Good and proper scrubbing. Something you’d know nothing about. If you did, you’d smell better in general too.”

The comment elicited an offended gasp from Lo’ak and a hearty laugh from Neteyam who, despite having not partaken in their juicy fruit war, had also taken the opportunity to bathe.

“I don’t smell bad!” Lo’ak protested, chest puffing with indignance.

You laughed and teased your friend further, “No, you don’t smell bad, but you don’t smell good either.”

Neteyam stepped up to you then and your breath hitched on your next inhale. You hoped he had not noticed. Unlike his brother, Neteyam smelled very good to you. He scent was a clean musk like fresh forest greenery with a tinge of something spicy underneath.

“You did a good job scrubbing, but you missed a spot.” The rich depth of Neteyam’s voice swept over you like a warm caress and you held your breath like you had somehow lost the ability to respire like a normal person. You saw him reach out with a hand and then his thumb swiped slowly and deliberately at something high on your forehead near your hairline.

His hand pulled away and you registered a small pink glob of squid fruit on his thumb just as said thumb disappeared into his mouth to suck the digit clean. Neteyam’s intense gaze never left yours as he pulled his thumb unhurriedly from between his lips. A delightful shiver raced down your spine, and your girlish daydreams churned their way to the forefront of your mind when you saw his tongue dart out to lick his lips one last time.

Neteyam turned then to lead the trio of you away back towards home and you vaguely registered your numb and tingling legs following suit alongside Lo’ak.

A revolted groan sounded from Lo’ak and it pulled you back to reality from the daydream you had been immersed in. Your head pivoted to meet his face, which was contorted into a disgusted moue, “What is it, Lo’ak?”

“Stop eyeing up my brother’s ass.”

Your mouth dropped open in shock. Truthfully, you had been admiring Neteyam’s rear, but you were not about to admit that. Scrambling for cover and trying to worm your way out of the hole you had found yourself in, you stuttered, “I wasn’t! I was looking at his- umm, at his-”

“Ass.” Lo’ak supplied again, deadpan.

“No!” You hissed under your breath. Neteyam was walking a little way ahead of the both of you, but you were careful to keep your volume down. “I was looking at his tail!”

A sarcastic scoff was your best friend’s response and he eyed you calculatingly, his expression dripping with his disbelief, “Because tails are so interesting. Come on, Kalia, don’t lie to me. I know you find my brother attractive. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Stubborn and resolute in your plan not to admit the truth, you shook your head, “Nope.”

Lo’ak laughed, the stray beaded braid that wasn’t tucked behind his ear swinging charmingly with the movements of his head, “Oh, so I suppose you just look at everyone like that? All moony-eyed? Hell, do you look at my ass like that when I’m not looking?”

“Eww! No! Gross!”

What ensued was a series of pinches, slaps and squeals as you squabbled. Neteyam halted in his tracks and he turned to see what all the commotion was about with a questioning look on his face.

Unable to resist the opportunity for another jibe at you, Lo’ak called out to him, “Oi, turn back around bro. You’re ruining the view.”

You felt the blood rush to your face and ears and you knew instantly that you were flushing a deep shade of violet. You slapped the back of Lo’ak’s thigh hard and satisfaction bloomed within you when he gave a pained yowl in reaction to it.

~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~

Seeing that you were both just bickering again as you often were, Neteyam gave a weary shake of his head and resumed walking. He had missed the meaning of Lo’ak’s cryptic comment, but he had not missed the deep blush staining its way across your smooth cheeks. He smiled to himself. You looked so beautiful when you blushed.

The bright pink of the squid fruit juice against your blue skin earlier had also coloured your complexion a lovely purple hue and it had reminded him very much of your blushing skin. The fruit juice had been smeared all over you; in your hair, on your face, your neck, your chest… And you had looked like a mouth-watering mess to him.

Neteyam felt saliva pool in his cheeks at the memory. By Eywa, he had wanted to clean your skin off himself with his own mouth and tongue. He had wanted to kiss you and taste the sweetness of the squid fruit on your plump lips. He had wanted to lick the gummy bits of fruit from your slender fingers and trail his tongue over every stained part of you until you were clean.

When you had sucked your own fingers into your mouth in the next moment, his thoughts had darkened even further. The sight of your succulent lips wrapped around your fingertips had been incredibly arousing, and he had forced himself to turn away when the next image his very male brain had supplied was of your sweet lips wrapped around something else of his.

He halted his thoughts immediately at the recollection. This had to stop. He had to find a way to distract himself from hankering after you. You were his baby brother’s best friend, for goodness sake.

A feeling of futility swamped Neteyam when the next remark his brain supplied in response to his previous statement was ‘so what?’

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

A few months later

Neteyam sat leaning against the softer, peeling bark of kelutral (Hometree) on one of the upper boughs. He had returned from the day’s patrol not long ago and the soft light of partial eclipse streamed in dappled rays from the leafy canopy above.

Polishing the wood of his bow was one of the few things he found therapeutic in life. It was a mundane task and repetitive in nature, but it relaxed him and gave him time to just think and be. The slightly, nutty scent of the bow oil he was using was also a comforting smell that reminded him of who he was (a mighty warrior, firstborn son of the olo’eyktan) and it grounded him in those facts.

A much more saccharine scent tinged the air around him then and Neteyam’s ears twitched, alerted to the approach of someone from the branches below him. A loaf-shaped parcel, smelling absolutely delicious and wrapped in cooking cloth was carefully placed next to his thigh and he smiled, “Hey Kalia.”

Shifting to peer downward over the edge of his seat, Neteyam met your lovely green eyes which glimmered currently with something he could not decipher in their depths.

You grinned toothily at him and your tone was earnest, “Are you busy? I don’t want to impose.”

“Nah, I’m just chilling.” Neteyam replied, patting the space next to him and watching with a genial smile as you eagerly hopped up to join him at his invitation. He picked the loaf-shaped gift up and cocked his head at you, “What’s this for? It’s your birthday tomorrow, not mine. Why are you giving me a treat?”

Your teeth nibbled at your lower lip and you turned beseeching eyes at him, “I know you like utumauti cake so I set some aside for you from the batch I made this morning. I need your help.”

“Ahh, so this is bribery, is it?” Neteyam taunted mildly, regarding you through narrowed eyes.

“Well, kind of, but not really. I would have saved you some cake anyway even if I didn’t have a favour to ask.”

“I’m just teasing you.” Neteyam’s chuckle was warm, “You know you don’t have to bribe me to help you out. What do you need?”

Tender affection swelled in his chest as he watched you beam at him in excitement at what you were about to ask. Neteyam realised in that moment that he would do just about anything to see you smile, to make you happy. He enjoyed your cooking and the little treats you left him, but they were unnecessary. You had an unlimited supply of favours from him, as far as he was concerned.

You were almost bouncing next to him with your delight as you spoke, “The river trout are migrating currently and I want to see them tonight down at fkewkxor (mighty waterfall). My parents said I could go, but only if you came with me.”

The annual river trout migration passed through Omatikaya territory each year as they swam downstream through the nearby river. The migration was a stunning vision after eclipse at the falls, the bioluminescence of the masses of trout rippling in a multihued display as they made their journey down towards and over the falls before carrying on their way.

Neteyam’s agreement fell easily from his lips. He was more than happy to accompany you tonight, “Sure. Of course I’ll come with you.” However, before his imagination could begin to conjure up delightful little fantasies of how he would spend his time alone with you this evening, a maddeningly familiar voice called from below.

“Did he say yes? Can we go tonight?” Lo’ak.

Irritation flared through him and Neteyam almost sagged in disappointment. He was conscious of keeping his expression cool though. Of course Lo’ak would be coming. He was your best friend. But you both needed a chaperone to go out after eclipse and that was where he fit into the picture. It seemed you had picked up on his annoyance anyway and you wrinkled your nose sheepishly at him, eyes beseeching.

With a long-suffering sigh, Neteyam called down to his brother, “Yes, I’ll take you both tonight! I’ll meet you at the ikran rookery after last meal and we’ll go then.”

You let out a gleeful squeal and pumped your fist into the air, and Neteyam could not help the grin that wormed its way across his cheeks at your elation. You were thanking him profusely and were just about to slip off the bough to leave him to his peace, when he took your hand to get your attention. The little gasp of surprise you emitted was endearing.

Neteyam squeezed your hand gently, his thumb rubbing in fond strokes across your knuckles, “Only because it’s your birthday tomorrow.”

He released your hand and you thanked him one more time with an appreciative smile, “Thanks, Neteyam. It means a lot. I hope you like the cake.”

***~~~***

~~ Your POV ~~

The spectacle was breathtaking. The swell of the frothing rapids at the mouth of the waterfall was a foamy contrast against the rippling flashes of bioluminescent colour from the trout beneath the surface. You could not make out the individual fish, but the polychromatic mass of them made it look like the water was alive with colour. The entire waterfall glowed in the darkness of eclipse and you could hardly believe your eyes at what you were seeing.

Neteyam had led the three of you to an enormous tree that grew almost right by the mouth of the waterfall. The tree’s boughs and branches extended and hung out over the waterfall itself, making it a prime viewing spot. Your cheeks hurt at how wide you were smiling and even Neteyam seemed just as enamoured by the vision where he stood next to you.

The trout migration was a beautiful sight, but Neteyam was beautiful too.

Neteyam was entirely focused on the spectacle before him and it gave you a perfect opportunity to stare. You knew staring was rude, but only if you were caught, right?

In the low light of eclipse, his skin almost appeared a richer shade of blue, his darker stripes a complementary cobalt against his cyan skin. The bioluminescent tanhì (freckles) on his face sparkled bright like stars in the night sky like his own unique set of constellations. Your eyes tracked his tanhì on their journey down his striking form; over his shoulder, down his well-muscled chest and abdomen; down to his hip and toned thighs…

“I thought you wanted to come here to watch the trout.”

Your head snapped up to Neteyam’s face and you found him watching you, watching him. Mortification shot through you at being caught, and your brain was blank and useless in that moment, completely unhelpful at finding something to say. You must have looked very much like a trout then with your wide, unblinking eyes, your mouth opening and closing wordlessly…

Neteyam was still watching you intently, but there was a hint of something in his eyes, something you had not seen before; something playful and hot and utterly male. It made your skin prickle with a delicious heat and made flutters burst in your stomach.

You broke the eye contact, embarrassed, and your words finally returned to you again though they were not exactly coherent, “I did! I do- I am- It’s just- Just thank you.”

You chanced a glance at him again and a corner of his lips quirked upward. Neteyam dipped his head downward, his chin lowering, but his eyes never left yours as he watched you. You shivered at the look. He looked like a hunter about to capture his prey…

“Holy shit! You have to come up here. The view is amazing and there are no lower branches in the way of your eyeline.” Lo’ak exclaimed from several branches up, “Come on, guys!”

Excited, you climbed your way up to meet him with Neteyam following close behind.

The branch Lo’ak stood on was a younger branch near the top of the tree’s canopy. It was not as thick and impervious as the older boughs lower down, but it appeared to be holding Lo’ak’s weight just fine. You hopped nimbly up onto it and began gingerly making your way down it towards Lo’ak who had his hand waiting outstretched for you. The branch bowed ever so slightly and it swayed under your feet as it adjusted to your added weight. You halted your steps.

Neteyam’s voice was a low warning from behind you where he remained next to the tree’s trunk, “This branch isn’t going to hold you both. Come back this way Kalia.”

Lo’ak, as usual, held a conflicting opinion, “Aww man, don’t worry bro, yes it will. It’s a little bendy, that’s all.”

You looked between the two brothers who both had one hand stretched out to you now as you stood in the middle. Neteyam was shaking his head in a reiteration of his point, his golden eyes fierce, impelling you to return to safety. Lo’ak’s expression was nonchalant, his eyebrows raised awaiting your approach.

In the end it was Lo’ak’s next words that sealed the deal, “Come on, Kalia, don’t be a wuss.”

You never backed down from a challenge, especially not from Lo’ak. You were not a wuss and so you turned towards him and took the several steps required the rest of the way to grasp his hand.

The branch pitched downward with a little wobble under your combined weight, but it held.

A triumphant ululation trilled from Lo’ak and he laughed, “See? I told you it’d be fine.”

You breathed out a quiet ‘wow’ as the new vantage point afforded you a clear and unimpeded view of the entire waterfall in all its phantastic glory, just as Lo’ak had said. However the branch you were on was not wide enough for both of you stand side by side, and it was a little awkward peering from around his shoulder.

Seeing your position, Lo’ak looked up at the branch above him and he grinned at you, “Here, I’ll hop out of the way so you can see better.”

The next few moments passed in a sluggish blur for you, almost as if time had slowed to a snail’s pace. The last thing you heard was Neteyam’s panicked cry of, “Lo’ak, no!”, before Lo’ak sprang upward from in front of you, reaching for the branch above to pull himself up and out of the way.

The sickening crunch of wood splintering followed as the force of Lo’ak’s well-meaning spring shattered the weight limits of the branch beneath you. Abruptly, your feet were no longer grounded as you saw the broken branch fall away. Gravity sank its sharp talons into you and then you were plummeting too towards the majestic but treacherous waters that lay in wait below.

The last thing you felt was your breath tearing from your squeezing lungs and forcing its way up your throat in a choking scream.

~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~

The piercing sound of your terrified scream echoed through the woods and Neteyam watched, petrified, as your frame was swallowed by the thunderous falls.

“Fuck, KALIA!” Lo’ak’s own screech was hoarse as he pulled himself up all the way onto the branch above. He appeared a hair’s breadth away from diving in after you when Neteyam stopped him.

He was not about to let his brother risk his own life any further, but Neteyam held no such reservations about himself, “No, Lo’ak! Stay here, you skxawng! Call for help if we don’t surface!”

It was a perilous endeavour, but what choice did he have? There was no time to waste thinking. You were down there and he needed to get to you. With his heart galloping in his chest and his heart whispering prayer after prayer to Eywa to keep you alive, Neteyam leapt from the broken stump of a branch and into the raging falls after you.

Tucking his head as his body speared into a downward dive, Neteyam felt the force of thundering water hit him before he was submerged under the surface. All around him were roiling bubbles and scattering trout as they endeavoured to avoid the foreign creature that had just invaded their environment. There was no sense of direction; he had no idea which way was up and which way was down. Neteyam felt trapped in the never-ending churn of the water, but he reached and pulled against the water with his arms and kicked out with his legs nevertheless.

Neteyam’s sole concern was you. Great Mother, he had promised to keep you safe…

You had only been allowed to go out tonight because you were under his watch; you had been entrusted into his care. His thoughts were frantic… Please Eywa, help me… help her! Help me reach her!

Neteyam realised the trout around him were upright and swimming in the same direction, which was a good sign. It meant he was the right way up. Having regained his sense of direction, he doubled down on his focus. He could not see any sign of you beneath the water, though it was difficult looking through shoals of trout. Reaching the river’s bottom, Neteyam kicked off it and propelled himself towards the surface for a breath of air.

Breaching the surface, Neteyam’s head spun around looking for you. Nothing. He dove under again, continuing his search. All he could see was trout and his chest was tight with frustration and desperation. Please, Great Mother, please!

Something small and black drifted past his eyeline in a furry tuft amidst the writhing bodies of trout... Your tail! It was the tuft of your tail! With renewed vigour, Neteyam swam towards it with all his might, his hands reaching out until he could grasp it. The trout parted as he pulled your unmoving form towards him. His emotions were a contradiction in that moment. He was relieved that he had found you, but alarmed to see that you were unconscious.

Wrapping his arms around your waist, Neteyam kicked his legs, hauling you up to the surface.

Neteyam jostled your body roughly in an attempt to wake you when your face broke the waterline. He coughed, his frenetic words leaving him in wet gurgles as he cried out, “Kalia, wake up! Can you hear me? Breathe! Kalia!” You remained unresponsive; your chest unmoving as you drew no breaths.

The water was calmer here now as he floated downstream with you. Turning onto his back to keep you atop him, he frog-kicked towards the riverbank and thanked Eywa when he could finally touch the riverbed with his feet. Swimming back far enough until it was shallow enough for him to stand, Neteyam righted you in his arms, hooking one arm under your knees and the other around your shoulders so he could carry you ashore.

Delicately positioning you on your back on the muddy bank, Neteyam’s fingers flew to the crook of your neck where it met your jaw, probing desperately for a pulse. Nothing. Pure, undiluted panic shot through him. Placing his hands on your chest like he had been taught, he knelt alongside you and started chest compressions.

“Come on, Kalia!” Neteyam urged, “Come back to me, paskalin!”

Thirty compressions later, he pinched your nose, tilted your head back and sealed his mouth over yours. He gave you two breaths, feeling your chest rise slightly with each one. He checked again for a pulse.

Still nothing.

With a wild curse, Neteyam restarted chest compressions. He knew this was your only chance at survival and yet he was so afraid that he would break your sternum with the force of his compressions. Sixteen or seventeen compressions in, your shoulders and chest punched outward and your body gave a violent wretch. River water spewed from your mouth and you took a ragged but blessed breath in. A fit of wet coughs wracked you as your body ejected some more of the water from your saturated lungs.

A startled cry of relief left Neteyam and he propped you upright in his arms, pressing a kiss into the crown of your head, “Thank you, Great Mother! Keep breathing, paskalin. That’s it! That’s good.”

He cupped your cheek, forcing your gaze to focus on him. Your eyes were wild with disorientation and fear, and Neteyam clutched you to his chest as you began to cry bitterly. The sound of your crying was heart-wrenching, but it was welcome proof to him that you were alive.

Your drenched body quaked in his arms from the chill of the river water and Neteyam let out several trills and ululations, calling for his ikran. He needed to get you back to his grandmother. Quickly.

***~~~***

~~ Neteyam’s POV ~~

To say that Neteyam was angry with Lo’ak was a vast understatement. He was absolutely livid with his brother.

He and Lo’ak had fought countless times in their lives. It was the way of things when you grew up as brothers whose personalities were at such odds with each other. Countless disagreements and countless rebukes, but Neteyam had always been eloquent, even in his ire. He had always known how to scold Lo’ak; had always known what words to use to chastise him. But tonight had clearly been one step too far.

Tonight, Neteyam knew he was beyond angry because for the first time in their lives, he had no words. He had been silent ever since he had returned to kelutral with you in his arms several hours ago.

Lo’ak had taken full responsibility and had owned up to his reckless behaviour. Both their own family and yours had been horrified by the events of the evening as he had recounted the truth to them. Lo’ak’s immense contrition had manifested itself all night as repeated apologies to whoever would listen.

His grandmother had thoroughly checked you over when he had arrived home with you. You had sustained several shallow gashes to the skin of your back where you must have hit the rocks at the bottom of the waterfall. You had aspirated river water and there would still be excess fluid in your lungs despite you having coughed most of it up. Mo’at had prescribed bedrest and careful monitoring of you for the next several days in hope that you would not develop a lung infection.

It was astonishing how the axis of Neteyam’s entire world had shifted in the space of one evening. He had vowed to himself a few moons ago that he would find a way to stop his growing feelings for you. He had done this partially out of respect for your close friendship with Lo’ak and also because he was convinced you did not see him the same way.

But he had nearly lost you tonight. And there was nothing in life that gave a person quite the same clarity of perspective than the threat of imminent death.

So what, if you were his baby brother’s best friend? Tonight had taught Neteyam that life was too short not to go after what he wanted.

Neteyam kept silent vigil in the healers’ hut where you were now asleep again. He had not left your side so far. Part of him needed to see you, to hear you breathing to assuage the deep-seated apprehension in his soul that you might somehow stop breathing again. And what if no one was there to notice?

Out of the corner of his eye, Neteyam saw Lo’ak get up from his spot a little further away to come and sit by him again. Neteyam ground his jaw together so hard that his teeth started to hurt.

“Say something, bro.” Lo’ak pressed softly, keeping his voice down so as not to wake you.

Neteyam’s nostrils flared and he pressed his thumb and forefinger into his eyes in vexation, “I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know. You’ve said that a billion times already.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t listen to you. Say you forgive me now, please? You were right, OK? That branch didn’t hold.”

Neteyam’s gaze had been alternating only between your prone form and his clasped hands in his lap up until now, but he turned incredulous eyes at his brother then. He gave a quiet scoff of disbelief, “By Eywa, that’s what you’re sorry for? For not listening to me? You think that I want you to apologise to me because you didn’t believe that I was right? Fuck, you don’t get it at all, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak blinked several times and his brows knitted in a confused furrow, “What? I’ve already apologised. I don’t know what more you want from me.”

Neteyam’s nose wrinkled in a silent snarl at his brother, “This is your fault. It’s always your fault because your apologies are never backed up with a change of behaviour.”

“I know, bro. I promise I’ll listen to you from now on.”

“No! That’s not it!” Neteyam’s hiss was quiet but no less vehement, “It’s not about me being right or you not listening to me. It’s about you recognising that you need to think before you rush headlong into your fun and games! I won’t always be there to protect her!”

He saw Lo’ak’s eyes flick to your sleeping form and saw the recognition dawn on his brother’s face. Lo’ak had caught the inflection in his last sentence, “Oh, so this is just about Kalia, is it? You’d be fine if it was me that nearly drowned tonight instead?”

Neteyam growled a warning, “Don’t be unkind. This is about both of you.”

“Yeah, I get it.” Lo’ak said casually, but Neteyam could sense his brother’s rising temper, could see it in the impatient flick of his tail, “In general, you’re concerned about the both of us, but right now tonight, this anger of yours, it’s all about her.”

“Of course! She died tonight, Lo’ak! She was dead when I pulled her from the river! We’re lucky I managed to resuscitate her!” Neteyam snarled, his ears pinned and his own tail lashing behind him, “You put her in danger. You have done so, so many times with your recklessness! So help me Eywa, if you can’t comprehend in your thick skull that you need to grow up and consider your own safety, then leave Kalia out of it, at least.”

Lo’ak’s lips curled in a derisive snarl of his own, “You can’t have her, bro. I won’t let you.”

Neteyam clenched his jaw. This was not the direction he had wanted this conversation to go in, but at the same time, it was a conversation that had been stewing in the background for moons now. His brother seemed all too eager to jump on this train of thought, full steam ahead.

Lo’ak continued, “She’s my best friend. I see the way you look at her, Neteyam. You want her for yourself.”

Neteyam knew he had to tread carefully here and choose his words wisely. It was both dishonest and futile to deny his attraction to you now, but he did not want it to come at the cost of your friendship with Lo’ak. Swallowing tightly, he began in a measured tone, “I don’t want to take her away from you. I just want her to be safe. I want you to be safe so that she is safe with you. You’re not good for her if you won’t change your behaviour.”

Lo’ak was shaking his head now, his breaths puffing heavily from his nostrils as he got more and more agitated, “How about you stay away from her, bro. She’s my friend.”

“This doesn’t have to be a you or me situation.” Neteyam reasoned, “My interest in her and your friendship are not mutually exclusive things.”

“No, you can’t have her!” The words were spat from Lo’ak in a vicious growl, louder now than before.

“That isn’t your choice or mine, Lo’ak! It’s hers! But I have every right to express my wish to court her!”

“STAY. AWAY. FROM HER!”

“You don’t have any right to demand that!”

“Stop fighting.” The voice was feminine croak and Neteyam startled, his head spinning back to look at you. His brother’s head had swivelled around just as swiftly and he was sure he heard the vertebrae in Lo’ak’s neck pop.

~~ Your POV ~~

It had been the most impressive quiet argument that you had ever heard, if you were honest. The brothers had done well maintaining a hushed volume up until the last few moments. You figured it was time to intervene since the conversation was getting out of hand and it was also especially imprudent for you to be eavesdropping on a conversation about, well, you.

Your throat felt scratchy and your lungs felt sore, but you were fairly clear-headed otherwise.

“Shit, Kalia, sorry we woke you.” Lo’ak was by your side in a flash and one of his hands curled around yours, “Fuck, I’m so sorry about tonight. I really am.”

His tone was remorseful and you knew he felt awful. Lo’ak was careless but he was not callous by any means. He cared greatly for you despite him unintentionally contradicting that fact at times with his reckless behaviour.

Lo’ak’s eyes appeared a little watery in the flickering firelight of the hut and you reached out to pat his cheek kindly, “Hush, I know. I’m OK now. We live and we learn, yes?” He nodded mutely.

You saw Neteyam’s face swim into view beside Lo’ak’s and your heart gave a squeeze. An assortment of thoughts and emotions eddied around in your mind at the sight of his handsome face; gratitude, affection, remnants of your fright from earlier in the evening, and a kittenish shyness at what you had heard him say just moments ago.

Looking back to Lo’ak, you took the hand that was holding yours and kissed the back of it, “You know you’ll always be my best buddy, right? Nothing will change that. Ever.” You saw the slight pout of Lo’ak’s lips lift in a grin. You needed to speak to Neteyam though, alone, to thank him for rescuing you. Mostly to thank him, but you wanted to address a few other things too…

You cleared the scratch in your throat and shot Lo’ak a reassuring smile, “I’ll catch you in a bit, yeah? Could you give your brother and I some time? I’d like to speak to him.”

You had to fight the urge to giggle because when you saw Lo’ak’s grin pucker into an unimpressed moue. He looked from you to his brother and then back again and drawled sarcastically, “Yeah sure, I see how it is. You’ll be my best friend in the daytimes and then you’ll go and suck face with my brother in the evenings.”

Both you and Neteyam hissed Lo’ak’s name in shocked unison as he got up to give you both some privacy. He called over his shoulder as he disappeared out the draping flaps of the healers’ hut, “Don’t do anything gross in there kids, I’m just outside.”

Neteyam emitted an irritated huff and he rolled his eyes. His cheeks were purpling ever so slightly and you giggled, your own cheeks heating in response. You sat in silence for a few moments, neither of you really knowing what to say or how to begin.

You looked at Neteyam in the lambent glow of the firelight. He was looking intently at his folded hands in his lap and a frown wrinkled his forehead. He looked a little upset and you realised then that while it had been you who had fallen, gotten injured and had to be resuscitated, it was Neteyam who had had to live the waking nightmare of all those moments.

You extended the fingertips of your left hand and you stroked them gently against the back of his clasped hands, “Hey, thanks for saving me. I wouldn’t be here if not for you.”

“You weren’t here for a little bit.” The words were a broken mumble from Neteyam, who turned one of his palms out to twine his fingers with yours. He looked defeated.

“I’m here now and that’s what matters.”

His fingertips were warm against your cold ones and you instinctively sought out more of his warmth, sliding your palm forward to seat it fully against his. You felt his fingers wrap around your palm in return and the motion sent a thrill through you.

Neteyam took a shaky inhale and his exhale punched out of him in a defeated sigh, he shook his head gravely, “Fuck, Kalia you scared me today. You were gone. I had to fight to bring you back and-” He stopped suddenly and his eyes reluctantly fixed themselves on the dark purple bruising where the top of your chest was peeking out from the woven blanket Mo’at had wrapped around you.

“It doesn’t hurt much.” You supplied, “You did what you had to and I’m so grateful. I was stupid today too. It wasn’t just Lo’ak who didn’t listen. You told me not to go out onto the branch. I’m sorry too. I should’ve known better.”

He pursed his lips at you then, clearly agreeing with your sentiment, “Look, I’m not going to try and stop you and Lo’ak from hanging out, but you both need to be more careful. Think about what you’re doing, assess the situation. I don’t want to have to give you mouth-to-mouth resuscitation ever again.”

“Not the kind of mouth-to-mouth you’d like to give me?” Perhaps it was the heady mix of tonic that Mo’at had given you as pain-relief. Or maybe it was the fact that you had overheard Neteyam admit to being attracted to you that emboldened you, but the quip was out of mouth before you could stop it.

Neteyam’s mouth popped ajar at your remark and he spluttered, “I-It wasn’t exactly a kiss.”

Your tittered even harder at his reaction and you countered with another quip, “No, I’d like to be alive when that one happens.”

He continued to gawp at you and you nibbled on your bottom lip bashfully. Eywa, you’d been crushing on Neteyam for a couple of years now, and to hear him say that he would like to court you was a girlish dream come true. You squeezed his hand promisingly and he chuckled.

He licked his lips and his eyes fell to his lap again. He shifted his other hand to join your already clasped ones and rested it over yours. Your hand was cradled between both of his now and the blazing heat of skin was electrifying. He lifted his eyes then to meet your gaze and admitted, “I didn’t think you felt that way about me.”

“And I thought you didn’t see me as anything more than your little brother’s annoying friend!” You exclaimed with a laugh, “By Eywa, I’ve been cooking you things and bringing them to you personally for so long now. I was convinced you just thought me a pest.”

Neteyam frowned and cocked his head at you, “I thought those were bribes and ‘thank you’ treats for keeping an eye on you and Lo’ak.”

“Well, they were, but it’s because I didn’t want you to stop coming.”

He smiled at you then, one of his beautiful, bright smiles that made you feel all warm and tingly inside. He brought your knuckles up to his face and pressed a kiss to them, and the soft velvet brush of his lips made your stomach quiver and your toes curl. He murmured, “So you’ll allow me to court you?”

You beamed at him with a nod and you wondered if he could see the happy stars bursting in the depths of your green eyes. A stupid part of you was a little disappointed that the first time his lips had touched yours you had not been conscious. It had not been a kiss, but still.

You wanted a kiss now and you never backed away from an opportunity to get what you wanted, “Kiss me, Neteyam, please?”

A corner of his lips quirked upward and his chin tilted down again, his eyes never leaving yours. You recognised that look. It was the same keen expression he had worn earlier that evening after he had caught you staring at him instead of the trout. Great Mother, that expression sent delightful shivers through you.

You saw him lean down towards you slowly, bracing his weight on his palms on either side of your head, and he smirked, “Lo’ak is going to be so annoyed.”

“Lo’ak knows. He’s known about my feelings for you for a while now. He’s just going to have to share.” You whispered, your heartrate quickening and your breath puffing in smaller pants of anticipation as Neteyam’s face neared yours. A husky chortle rumbled by your ear and you gave a small gasp as his hot breath tickled the side of your face.

Neteyam purred his response, “Well as long as I don’t have to share this-” He pressed a slow kiss to your right cheek, “Or this-” Another unhurried press of his lips to your left cheek, “And especially not this-” His smooth lips enveloped yours in a chaste, but lingering press, “Then I’m fine sharing. Happy birthday, Kalia.”

Bright and unbridled delight rushed through you in a series of flutters and flurries in your chest and in your stomach. You had almost forgotten. The darkest part of eclipse had come and gone. It was your birthday today. Your first kiss with Neteyam was without a doubt, the best birthday present ever. Neteyam was grinning smugly down at you and you reached up to loop your arms around his neck, pulling him down towards you again for another deliciously plush and moist meld of your lips.

It was a little uncoordinated and a little bit messy as the two of you continued your curious exploration of each other’s mouths. After all, you were both new to each other like this. However, the experience was no less stimulating. You had plenty of time to practise and get better, you mused.

Evidently Lo’ak had chosen the wrong time to peek through the gap in the hut’s entry flaps, and you and Neteyam broke away from each other laughing when his indignant voice sounded from outside.

“Eww, yuck! I SAID NO GROSS STUFF!”

***~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~***

Author's Note: Ya'll this took on a life of its own, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing it. I hope you enjoyed this little rollercoaster of drama! I'd love to hear your thoughts & reactions. Reblogs are so very much appreciated. Share this piece if you loved it! 🥰Thanks for reading!

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