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0bticeo · 27 days

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lurk | feyd rautha

part two of five. (part one.) (part three.) (part four.)

summary:

the edge of the blade is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

he blinks. slowly, his lips curl in a smile. your gaze flits to them. to the plush lower lip, to the arch of his cupid’s bow. to their predatory edge. you’ll cut yourself if you get too close. maybe you need to take a step forward.

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

wc. 3k

tw. blood, death, manipulation, knife kink, blood kind (both heavily hinted at), possessive feyd, political machinations, little canon divergent because the atreides actually attend feyd's bday fight (canon dune part 1 one starts a little after that), please read part one first it will all make sense i promise. shoutout to @kpopnstarwars my most beloved you're going to enjoy this. same goes for you @jaiuneamesolitaiire . also please ask questions about reader/the plot i beg of u i need to get this out of my system

you’re falling.

you see white sands engulf you in their sickly warmth, greedy little grains sinking you in.

you’re falling, and there’s a distant roar ringing in your ears. you’re falling, lifeblood escaping you.

you’ve fallen.

black.

you peel your eyelids open. they feel like sandpaper against your eyes, coarse and rough in all ways wrong.

you dream. again.

the past shifts and twists in front of you, ever changing, desert sand falling through your fingers. the more you cling to it, the less you grasp it.

you let yourself fall in the abyss of memory.

you blink.

you stand by your father’s side, gait proud and regal in a dark dress - a convoluted affair of veils and silver. on your breast, the crest of your family - crimson falcon spreading, spreading. you think of blood blooming on your chest and shift, ever so slightly. the cool press of your blade against your forearm soothes you.

you are in troubled waters, after all.

geidi prime, home to your house’s sworn enemy, the harkonnen. geidi prime, its black sun sucking life out of its inhabitants, monochrome nightmare.

the flight from caladan was costly enough - you can almost hear hawat’s teeth grinding in discontent. a fortune, wasted on harkonen festivities held in honor of the na-baron’s birthday. yet, you must attend. you, betrothed-to-be to a harkonnen.

you’ve heard whispers. hushed conversations between your mother and father, an assessing gaze from the reverend mother herself. it won’t be the baron himself - too old, too sick to produce the desired offspring.

just any other member of that wretched house won’t do either - you are a duke’s daughter, your bloodline mingling with that of the emperor himself.

in the end, it all comes down to the baron’s nephews.

rabban - brutal. all furious brawns, minimal intellectual capacity, proficient for slaughter if used well.

na-baron feyd-rautha. utterly psychotic. deadly. precise. cunning. watching.

from his position at the baron’s right flank, he assesses you. you, back impossibly straight, hands folded before you, feet spread wide enough to spring to action should the situation go awry.

you, bowing before them, liquid smooth, a hair short of being disgracious.

you’ve only bowed low enough to respect the intricate harkonnen protocol, not to show deference. not to them.

the baron raises his head from his seat, barely.

“welcome to geidi prime, duke.”

you suppress a twitch. how utterly informal.

“thank you, baron.”

a shift in the baron’s entourage.

outrage, barely concealed. rabban looks ready to slit your father’s throat. how dare the atreides scum fail to recognize the honor paid to him and his suite?

they’re being left alive, have the privilege of witnessing their beloved na-baron’s coming of age, and still fail to show the due respect?

you let out a slow, drawn out breath. the ceremony will be held in two days. more than enough time for you and your father to be disposed of.

your lips quirk up. you speak.

“it is always an honor to be invited to festivities in which the emperor partakes.”

feyd-rautha’s eyes are on you. under geidi prime’s soulless sun, they’re white, depthless. a milky way of depraved harkonnen savagery. he bares his teeth with unbrided hunger. you know it to be a threat - you’ve heard of his harpies.

you think he’ll consume you whole, with the way his gaze scorches your very soul.

how delightful.

a pulse. the suspensors. slowly, the baron rises from his seat, gargantuan mass towering above you, shadow stretching and stretching until it encompasses all of you.

“the flight to geidi prime must have been quite draining.”

a tenth of your wealth. he who controls the spice controls the universe. the harkonnen have had arrakis in an iron hold for eight decades. your jaw ticks. bastard.

“escort them to the guest wing.”

servants surge forward.

feyd-rautha’s gaze burns, sinks in the exposed skin of your back.

your dream shifts. twists, turns, has you seated at a banquet table.

a feast.

one day left until feyd-rautha’s coming of age.

the guards don’t know how to hold their tongue. they expect a fight - the grandest thing under the sun.

the emperor’s here, sitting at your table. from the corner of the eye, you observe. he’s been put at the head of the table, the baron at his right, your father at his left. an attempt at appeasing eons old enemy. a failure. yet...

there’s an air of satisfaction to the emperor. haden’t you be trained in the bene gesserit way, you would have missed it, the way his eyes glimmer like arrakean spice.

finality sinks in as he takes the first bite, knife slicing open the tender flesh of an unknown poultry.

it looks like a falcon.

you take a bite of your own meat. medium rare, the proper way to consume meat. especially venison. princess irulan watches you, gaze assessing. she, too, has been trained in the way.

you smile at her, finger tracing the rim of your glass, spider-pleasantries networking endlessly. you ask her if she enjoyed your gift - a vocal recorder of the highest quality.

her smile is sincere. in the brutal white lighting of the banquet hall, you find yourself wishing things were different.

“how is your brother?”

you grin. you’re being watched.

“he’s grown. still has his back facing the door.”

she scoffs, amused.

“he’ll learn.”

under the artificial light, your wine looks like freshly spilled blood.

you take a sip and hum. the alcohol burns, sweet little fire settling low in your chest.

“is the wine to your liking, my lady?"

to your credit, you don’t startle. your shoulders tense, your hand freezes in its motion to lower the glass.

na-baron feyd-rautha is at your side, close enough for his breath to tickle your ear.

“it is, my lord na-baron.”

mine. mine. glacier eyes have you riveted in your seat, needle-like against your throat. mine, mine.

his lady. his to claim, his to wed, his to breed.

you watch lithe fingers curl around his knife and wish you could see him in action. watch the deadly precision he’s so praised for.

soon.

twist and shift, until you’re lost in a maze of hallways.

the ceremony is about to start - you can feel the low thrum of thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. shadows pass over you.

it’s cold, this architecture. metal wings stretching, stretching. should you crane your neck, maybe, you’ll watch them disappear in the ceiling. maybe. darkness is a looming cloud - these very walls soak up the light.

you, yourself, are a shadow. puppet dancing to the whims of whoever holds your strings. bene gesserit. baron vladimir harkonnen. the emperor.

you feel a storm coming.

you stop. light. an open door. a lone silhouette, porcelain white etched against black.

feyd-rautha.

he raises his head. sees you. tilts it to the side, lips stretched in a slow grin.

“are you lost, my lady?”

“so it would appear, na-baron.”

a twitch. flicker of annoyance in his eyelid, in the clenching of his jaw, sculpted edge caressed by shadows.

his blade is at your throat before you can make a move.

time holds its breath. it will snap and bleed raw at your feet, thick rivulets of it.

you will bleed, too.

your lips part, a muted gasp. the edge is sharp. a pinprick of pain blossoms above your carotid. but…

“it’s not sharp enough.”

“what will you have me do?”

“pardon?”

“to sharpen it. should i fetch the incapable wretch who forged them?” his grin sharpens. you feel his blade cut through skin. “or should i use you?”

your heart skips a beat. a droplet of blood trails down your neck, down to your collarbone, down to your breasts. his gaze follows. hungry.

“you’d make quite a mess, na-baron.”

he steps closer. circles you, free hand grazing your hip bone, left bare by your dress. you feel the heat of him. suddenly, you’re acutely aware of his bare chest pressed against you. you suppress a shiver.

“address me properly, my lady.”

he shifts his blade. it presses against your jaw.

“very well, my lord na-baron.”

a pleased hum, like a purr. you tilt your head to the side.

“what will you do, feyd-rautha?”

he turns by a fraction. his lips graze your cheek, a breath away from your mouth. your throat feels dry. they graze there, too, over your carotid, trailing up and up until he’s pressing his cheek to yours, guiding you, helping you see-

carnage.

servants, dressed in white, lying limp on the ground, throat slit with deadly perfection. blood pools on the ground. stretches. oozes from gaping wounds, until it reaches the hem of your dress.

concubines, three of them - sisters of fate, harpies with broken limbs, lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling. they’re smiling, teeth like fangs in the dim lighting of the room.

“help me,” he mutters, voice like a plea. “i will guide you.”

“and if i refuse?"

a low chuckle. deep, raspy. you melt a little inside.

“you’re brave, my little atreides.”

“you wouldn’t be the first to try to kill me and fail, miserably.”

his arm wraps around your middle, pressing you to him. oh, mother, why did you have to wear a backless dress? you feel each ridge of him, the perfection of a trained warrior, muscles taut from countless hours of training - he’d make sculptors weep with the lethal perfection of him.

“ah, the fabled tale. show me, little atreides.”

“say please.”

his fingers dig in your hip, thumb tracing small circles under the silver threads holding the fabric together.

“please.”

slowly, you raise your arm. the fabric of your dress, a convoluted affair of veils and velvet, slides down your skin. inch by inch, until the treacherous, ragged scar stretches along your forearm. he tenses, feyd-rautha.

“who did this to you?”

“a fool who underestimated me.”

an assassin.

sent to kill you and your brother as you were running around on the beaches of caladan. who took you first, had you pressed against him, blade at your throat - until you sweetly asked him to

unhand you.

he did. your mastery of the voice wasn’t perfect. you faltered. he struck. you bled.

killed.

words are the weapons of the weak.

that, you aren’t.

“how may i help you, feyd-rautha?”

twist, turn, until you’re facing him, holding a bowl of paint. thick, petrol black, it clings to your fingers like a lifeline. feyd-rautha’s hand covers yours. guiding you, dipping your fingers in the paint, raising your hand to his torso.

you flush a little.

he’s warm. so very warm under your touch. the paint is cool on his skin - you watch him shiver, abdominals contracting, and you trail down, down his pectorals, stopping just short of his navel, lingering over the fabric of his tunic. at his side, his fingers twitch, eager.

“more.”

“where?”

his hand reaches for yours. presses it on his chest. you can feel his heart, steady, strong - fluttering, hummingbird flailing in a cage made of ribs.

you want him, you realize. you want to consume him whole, sink your teeth in him until you can finally taste.

“where?”

you have to crane your neck to get a look at his face. something like amusement glimmers in his eyes.

he brings your fingers to his lips.

you blink.

spread the paint, thumb pressing down the plush of his lips. his lips part, suck you in and bite.

feyd-rautha watches you, tongue darting out to gather the sweet blood trailing down your hand. he presses a kiss to your palm, lips lingering against the callouses of your skin.

you let out something like a whine. the bowl falls. you never hear it reach the ground.

“you’re making quite a mess.”

bastard.

“you’ll make a bigger one if you’re late, my na-baron.”

twist and turn, again, and again, and again. dreams have meanings, and you won’t let this one escape your grasp.

you’re standing above the ground, in the gaping mouth of a harkonnen arena. on and on it stretches, cold metal sparring against the sky, gnawing at its decimated horizon. ink blots the sky. you think of blood pooling in the water. fireworks.

you step inside the lodge. the guards recognise you - duncan idaho flashes a smile, a sharp quirk of his lips. you nod. they part ways. let you join your father, sit by his side and watch.

the fight hasn’t begun yet.

“you look thoughtful, daughter.”

you look away from the immaculate sand and the thousands of harkonnen roaring their na-baron’s name. feyd-rautha.

your father is watching you, gaze austere. you will not conceal, not from him.

“an alliance with the harkonnen would be beneficial, father.”

silence. you watch the subtle twitch of his eyelid, the flexing of his hand. the guards do not hear. you’ve willed it so on your way in. to them, this is only pleasant chatter between father and daughter. harkonnen slander.

“you will not speak of such matters again.”

“the emperor-”

“enough!”

you keep your mouth shut. your father is a stubborn man, blinded by hatred passed down from generation to generation of atreides. as you should be.

horns blow. doors part, slide up. in comes feyd-rautha harkonnen, prowling on the wretched grounds of his playing ground. your binoculars zoom in on him. on the ease with which he carries himself, on the perfect arch of his neck as he kneels before the baron.

on harkonnen prisoners making their way towards him. undrugged.

you straighten in your seat.

the guards murmur. they too, have noticed the prisoners walking straight, carrying themselves with entirely too much ease.

“a bold move. what is the baron planning?”

your father. he’s watching too. all of you are, thousands of gazes riveted on the focal point that is the lone silhouette of feyd-rautha harkonnen.

you rip your gaze away from him and focus on the baron, a few meters above.

his lips part.

show me who you are, my dear nephew.

he’s fast. too fast for them. you relish in it, the fluidity of his movements, the way his hands tenses with each strike of his blades, bare forearms rippling with tension. one body falls. two. it’s barely been a minute since the fight started.

you cross your legs and watch, enthralled.

by god, does he fight well.

a reptile, slithering around his opponent, assessing him with the cruel knowledge of his supremacy. shadows loom over them, horned beasts ready to pry his opponent away from him should he prove to be in danger.

you feel more than you hear his outraged snarl.

“back off!”

that poor soul is his to kill. his gaze flickers upwards. up to the guest lodge, up to you. he bares his teeth in a smile, a flash of black against pure white, and strikes. blood splatters on the ground. a gash opens in the side of the prisoner. he stumbles but doesn’t fall.

no, he’s a fighter that one. lunches forward to pin the na-baron to the ground, wrestling with him, clawing at his arms, hitting every nerve until the baron drops his blades. he’s laughing. he’s getting the life choked out of him and he’s laughing, shifting until his feet find enough leverage to pull him up.

there’s a blade at his throat. the prisoner pushes and pushes, unstoppable force against immovable object. on he laughs, feyd. your eyes drops to his lips, where you see droplets of drool drip down his chin. you bite your lip.

feyd seizes the blade with his bare hand and twists. you hear the prisoner’s wrist break before you hear him choke on his own scream, coughing out blood. the dagger’s deep in his throat. it’s the only thing keeping him together - one fluid motion and feyd rautha wrenches it out of torn flesh and raises it above.

his gaze finds yours.

the dream shifts.

a veil unfolds, parts, until you’re walking the burning sands of arrakis. paul atreides, blood of your blood, flesh of your flesh, stands before you.

his eyes are blue.

you freeze.

a litany rises. lisan al gaib. your mother’s handicraft and eons of propaganda from the missionaria protectiva did its job well. here stands the one, scalding wind screaming around the looming silhouette of him.

bodies. bodies, laying on the ground, thousands and thousands of bodies, hands clutching at scorched earth, parched mouths opened in damnation. hunger. they’re dying in paul’s wake. fate will set the galaxy ablaze. fate will make monsters out of you.

“you know what must be done, sister.”

you do. there’s something a little broken in the way you smile at him, palm cradling his face.

“do you, little mouse?”

he’s tired, paul atreides, usul, muad’ib, lisan al gaib. sanctity doesn’t suit him well. he sees, but his eyes are sunken, his cheeks have hollowed out. there’s an edge to him, too. the bene gesserit were right to fear him.

“don’t lose yourself more than you already have, brother.”

it’s too late.

a jolt.

your eyes wrench open.

“welcome back, atreides.”

the baron.

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x y/n #feyd rautha x you #dune x reader #dune x you #dune x y/n #obticeo writes #bald freak supremacy

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crownofgildedlilies · 19 days

Text

wishin' you were kind enough to be cruel about it -> cool about it [2]

in which: a son of Jupiter can't remember the life he lost to time and circumstance. or the daughter of mercury he lost, too.

pairing: jason grace x daughter of mercury!roman!reader

warnings: you guessed it! more angst and cursing!

word count: 6.4k

a/n: did not mean for it to be this long but, im obsessed.... no like u don't understand. so much to be said! inbox/comment to be added to the taglist!

one [two] three four

At least you had the comfort of preparing for war to distract you.

Armor polished to perfection, swords sharpened, denarii in your pocket to pay for passage to the Underworld, should you meet your end facing an endless army of monsters that couldn't die.

Really, how Roman of you to seek the blissful nothingness at the start of battle.

You knew the exact number, down to the minute, of how long it had been since you had last seen Jason. But if someone were to ask you how many days Percy, Frank, and Hazel had been off on their quest, you would have stared at them blankly.

And even as you readied for war, your eyes had a glossy look to them, pinned on a fixed point just above the horizon.

"Don't let the legionnaires see you like this," Dakota had murmured in your ear as he adjusted the straps of your armor. You knew he had a point, but hated him for saying it, anyways.

What did it matter? The legionnaires had already seen you in hysterics in the camp center, tearing through the place in search of Jason. They wouldn't be surprised to see you were still not right, even with the promise of military glory.

But it didn’t change the fact that he had a point.

You were a centurion for a reason, and not just because the great Jason Grace followed you like a shadow. You needed to be strong and brave and ruthless, because that was what a Roman leader should be.

And the reason you became a centurion was apparent the moment you stepped onto the battlefield, New Rome at your back and your brothers-in-arms at your side.

See, the giants hadn't taken into account how much anger and fear you had bottled up inside you, uncorked with the first swing of your sword and spilling out over their armies.

Violence untethered, one of the now-retired centurions from the First Cohort had once described the way you fought. Brutal. Efficient. Roman.

And if you had been untethered before, when you still had Jason at your side—

The casualties on the Roman side were few.

You had taken a couple of big hits, but you welcomed the pain. The first actual bite of something other than heartache felt almost like a relief, like a promise that you were not trapped in a body that could only grieve.

The rest of camp may have been rejuvenated by Percy's retrieval of hundreds of Imperial Gold weapons, but all you could do was grit your teeth and limp back into the city.

The cries of 'Praetor!' that echoed after you, announcing Percy as Camp Jupiter's second leader, felt like they were twisting a knife in a wound long infected and left to rot.

Jason was praetor. Jason.

You liked Percy, you really did. He was funny—or at least, you would have thought so, if you weren't constantly looking for the next excuse to leave camp and search for Jason—and kind. He had Roman bravery, if not a little rebellious, which the Mercury in your blood seemed to enjoy.

Percy might have even been your friend, in another life. One when you had met him with your hand tucked in Jason’s, the son of Jupiter the levelheaded side to your double edged sword.

And at least you trusted Percy a whole lot more than Octavian.

"These... Greeks," Octavian hissed the word, lips curling in distaste. The day after the battle, still bruised and wounds leaking blood, you found yourself in the forum, dressed in a toga wrapped over your armor. You still couldn’t put too much weight on your ankle, and the shoulder on your shield arm was swollen. "You're an even bigger fool than I thought if you trust them."

You rolled your eyes, but bit down the dramatic gag. If Jason had been there, he would have been very pointedly ignoring you—because you had been guilty on more than one occasion of making more and more ridiculous faces in an attempt to make him laugh.

And after the third time you had gotten him to break his stony facade, Jason had implemented a 'no looking at you during meetings' rule, which he more or less succeeded in executing.

Or less, being the key words.

"Talking about fools," You murmured, and from beside you, Dakota jammed his elbow into your side so harshly, you almost yelped. In his defense, you hadn’t told him about the Cyclops that had probably broken your ribs, but you wished he hadn't hit you where you were so sore.

"Look, they're my friends up there." Percy gestured widely towards the open air roof as he spoke. You found yourself studying the skies, as if the flying Greek trireme Percy claimed would be arriving might suddenly appear out of thin air. "I trust them, and you voted me praetor. Doesn't that count for something?"

"It's something, alright." Octavian scoffed. You rolled your eyes again, almost growing dizzy with the movement.

A bad habit during meetings, Centurion, Jason had chastised you, once, with a smile so warm it didn't feel like a punishment. The two of you had just left the forum, still wrapped in your togas, your hand curled around his forearm as he led you through New Rome and towards a bakery you favored.

Wouldn't happen if you let me challenge Octavian to combat, Praetor, you had fired back, and in a moment of weakness, pressed a kiss to the underside of his jaw before darting off ahead of him, giddy.

Soldiers, not lovers, you had to remind yourself. No matter how much you wanted, you couldn't force Jason to be anything he wasn't ready to be—or maybe what he just wasn't.

Octavian's watery stare landed on you, snapping you back to the moment like a rubber band pulled taut.

"I can hardly imagine you support this, Centurion? With Jason Grace gone—"

"Do not," You snapped, breath coming out in short, labored spurts. Violence untethered, indeed. "Neither I nor you get to decide who is praetor, and the spot was open—"

Your voice cracked. It tasted like a lie. The spot wasn't open. It belonged to Jason, just as your heart and tears and smiles did.

"—and Percy Jackson was raised to the rank after receiving glory in battle." You recited. You hoped it didn't sound like you had practiced in the bathroom mirror that morning, trying to make it seem like you believed it, even if you had. "I seem to recall a certain Apollo legacy cowering beneath my shield during the second Cyclops onslaught, don't you, Augur?"

And maybe it was a low blow, calling a Roman's battle bravery into question, but Jason had always been your bridge to your self-control.

"I—no—it—!" Octavian stammered, flustered, and Percy laughed. Dakota and several of the other centurions Octavian hadn't managed to blackmail or brainwash to follow him pressed their palms over their mouths to suppress their own chuckles, and even Reyna was struggling to bite back a grin. "You think you'll still hold rank as centurion, come the next election?"

He was threatening you, you realized, and you would have hauled off and socked him in the mouth, consequences be damned, if a shadow hadn't crossed over Octavian's head, darkening the whole of the forum.

Twisting your gaze up, heart hammering, you found a flying Greek trireme.

Percy was right.

And maybe he had been right about something else, too. Something you hadn’t dared to consider.

While Percy was dropped at Camp Jupiter, Jason might have been carted off to Camp Half-Blood.

Mercury swiftness blessed you once more as you took off, darting out of the forum before Reyna could finish saying dismissed.

There wasn’t much that could have stopped you, not even the bitter cold of crashing through the middle of a Lar.

You didn’t even bother pausing to shout an apology to Cassius, glowing purple and claiming to curse your bloodline for such an insult.

If you have been able to breathe, you would have told him your bloodline already felt a little cursed.

There was shouting, but you barely could hear it over the buzzing in your mind. You felt like you were going to vibrate out of your skin, eyes squinted, head tilted up, and fighting against the sun for even a glimpse of your missing half.

“Helmet on, fall in line,” Dakota tugged your arm, pulling you back to his side. You felt a little, a lot, frantic—felt desperate—but Reyna was already struggling to get everyone to fall in line, and she had given you so much leeway in the past months, that you stepped beside your fellow Fifth Cohort centurion.

“I left my—“ Left my helmet behind, you would have said, but Dakota shoved the metal piece into your hands. With buzzing fingertips, you placed on your helmet, adjusted the straps of your armor that were already perfectly done up.

Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion. Seconds ticked by like hours, limbs swimming through thick air like you were in a dream. From your spot nestled between Dakota and Paulette from Fourth Cohort, tucked under the hull of the flying trireme, standing behind Percy and Reyna, you couldn't see any of the ship's occupants.

But then they dropped a rope ladder, and your heart stuttered in your chest. Nails bit into your palms, your own fingers the culprit, and you forced yourself to stretch out your hands in an attempt to keep the bleeding to a minimum.

Jason, please, Jason, I need you, oh, gods, please—

It was like a mantra, repeating on a loop in your head. Tears stung at your eyes, overwhelmed by just the sheer possibility that your golden haired love could be so, so close to returning to you.

The first body began to climb down the ladder. A girl, with yellow hair dragged into a ponytail. In front of you, somehow, you heard Percy inhale sharply and you realized it must have been Annabeth.

The only person he remembered from his past life, until he had drank the gorgon's blood and gotten his memories restored. Unease trickled through you. There wouldn't be such a quick fix for Jason.

A second girl descended the ladder after Annabeth, with choppy brown hair, baggy clothes, and a wicked dagger at her hip.

You started to doubt Percy's theory. Maybe Jason hadn't been taken by Juno or Hera or whichever deity you felt like blaming. Maybe he was stuck somewhere else, alone, and hurting, and you were—

A purple shirt appeared over the side of the ship, atop a set of broad shoulders you could have recognized blind.

Jason.

Your Jason.

Home, to you, at last.

A gasp shuddered through you as he started to climb down the rope ladder and into New Rome. You started to step forward, but Roman training froze you to your spot as Reyna pinned you with a look that screamed 'don't break rank, not in front of Octavian,' which would never be enough to keep you from reaching Jason.

But still, you stalled.

It didn't mean you stopped staring, your eyes tracing his form from head to toe, trying to see what changed about him, what was still the same.

The scar on his lip, the sky blue eyes, the golden rays of his hair. It was exactly as you remembered, except for the hair, which had grown out just slightly. You liked it better, but you would never tell him. You knew how much he liked to keep it short, in regulation.

Look at me, please, you begged him in your mind, because you were forbidden to say the words. Another boy scaled down the rope ladder, but you paid him no attention. Jason, Jason, Jason.

It was dizzying. In all the years you had loved him, never had it felt so much like a compactor was pressing in on your chest.

Their group approached, four rag-tag demigods, three Greeks and a Roman. It sounded like the set-up to one of the awful jokes you used to tell Jason when you were stationed on guard duty together, just to pass the time and see him shake his head with a smile.

Reyna stood tall before you, strong and powerful and part of you wanted to push her to the side and race into the arms of your lost soldier.

Why hadn't he looked at you yet?

This was it, the moment you had been dying for, for months. When Jason finally came back to you, his eyes locking with yours, rules and regulations tossed aside as he wrapped you in his arms so tight your toes left the ground and his mouth slotted over yours, a kiss nearly a decade in the making.

Fear and emotion clogged your throat, and you had trouble swallowing around it. Didn't he see you? He knew you always stood between Dakota and Paulette, just to the right of the second praetor—his rank, formerly, now given to Percy Jackson.

But, there—his blue eyes scanned the row of centurions lined behind Reyna and Percy, starting with the First Cohort and making his way to you. Oh, how you were going to scream and cry and hold him later, all as punishment for making you worry—

Jason's eyes passed over you, carrying on towards Dakota like you were nothing more than another face in the crowd.

Fear and routine and fear of your routine were the only things stopping you from tearing off your helmet and slamming it into his chest, demanding to know who the hell he thought he was, scaring you so thoroughly for months and then acting like he didn’t know you.

But then you remembered Percy, and how he hadn’t been able to remember anything.

That couldn’t be right, no, Jason loved you. And maybe it wasn’t in the way you loved him, but hadn’t Hadlee, the daughter of Venus, gone on and on the other night about different types of love? You knew with a certainty you had never felt before that Jason loved you, even if it was only in the sense of friends.

The way fellow soldiers would die and bleed and get torn to shreds for each other.

You had gotten upset when he asked what else was there for the two of you to be. Now, you would trade every scrap of pleasure and freedom for the chance to be only soldiers with Jason Grace for the rest of time.

You pressed your arm tight against your side, elbow pointed in and poking at the unhealed, unchecked injury from the Cyclops. At first, you had refused to go to the medics because they were still all cheering for Percy to take place at praetor.

Then the pain just became a good enough distraction from losing Jason, even if it didn't really work.

These thoughts and more swirled in your mind as Jason introduced himself and the Greeks he had arrived with. Annabeth, Piper, Leo, Coach Hedge. The names meant nothing to you, but still you memorized them, because they were important to Jason.

He and Annabeth took turns explaining the quest they were on. You only understood half of what they were talking about, because every time someone other than Jason even attempted to speak, their voice was drowned out by the sound of your blood rushing in your ears.

Gaea is rising. Giants trying to wake the earth mother. Need to go to the Ancient Lands to stop them.

You gathered enough to know that whatever was happening was bad. They needed Jason, your Jason, and the fate of the world was more important than the heartbeat pulsing in the tips of your fingers.

Wasn't it?

Miles and miles away, maybe already in the Ancient Lands, you heard Reyna's voice cut through the static.

Let's discuss over a meal, she had said, your stare watching the relief wash over Jason's face. You were certain no one but yourself noticed the minute reaction on his behalf. At least, you had hoped. We reconvene in the city proper for a lunch. Centurions, dismissed.

There it was, that permission you had been waiting for.

Your helmet was torn from your head before Dakota even had time to slouch, shoulders dropping from the stiff way he held them while in formation.

It clattered to the ground beneath you, and you might have even stubbed your toe on it as you stepped forward, desperate for proof that you weren't imagining things. Your soldier was home, gods praise, he was home and within arms reach.

The rank of centurions behind you remained still, anticipating the long awaited and bitterly fought for reunion between two of New Rome's finest, the two soldiers that rarely ever separated, but spent six and a half months apart.

You surged forward. Jason stayed still. You understood what was happening, but you wanted to pretend for a moment longer.

"Hey, soldier," You breathed, voice tight and eyes burning. You clenched your hands into fists, then splayed your fingers wide, stretching, desperate to reach out and touch.

But you were on very uncertain ground. You had to wait for him to make the first move, even if it killed you.

"If the legion weren't here, I'd kick your ass for making me cry." You settled on saying, knowing that he would understand just how much you missed him.

Once, during a particularly violent round of training, Jason had caught the underside of your jaw with the blunt end of his lance. Nothing had broken, which considering Jason's strength, had been both a shock and a blessing, but you hadn't been able to control the tears that sprung to your eyes and raced down your cheeks in pain.

I did this to you, he had lamented, torn between anger at himself and grief for having hurt you. His aching in his words had been nearly enough to get you to resent yourself for feeling pain. I should have been more careful. Next time, I will.

His hands had been cradling your face, turning in it ever so gently to the side to inspect the bruise already forming on your jaw. His touch on your skin had felt like too much, but now you were realizing it had never been enough.

Next time, I'll be faster, you had promised hooking your leg around the back of his and shoving into his chest, sending him sprawling backwards and landing square on his ass in a move that never would have been possible if he hadn't been distracted by your tears at his hand.

You had barely cried then. What would he say, now, learning of the hysterics you had been reduced to?

“Er, do I know you?” Jason asked, stammering, flush coating pale cheeks you could have drawn from memory.

The simple question felt like being dunked in an ice bath, then held under while your lungs filled with water. It had to be some cruel joke, some wicked nightmare you would surely wake from any minute.

Know you? Did Jason Grace know you?

The question was almost unnecessary. Laughable, even. Seven months earlier, if someone had asked that question, you would have cracked a grin. Jason would have been by your side, naturally, and been offended by the insinuation that he didn't.

And then he would have proceeded to list off all of your favorite things, in alphabetical order, organized by category.

The idea was laughable. He knew you. He had to know you.

“Jase?” It was pathetic, really, that that was all you could muster. A breathy, pained whisper of the nickname you’d given him when he was being stubborn about taking care of himself and you poked out your bottom lip to try and convince him to rest.

Most times, it worked.

Now it just hurt.

“Sorry,” He shook his head, darting a glance to the curly haired Latino boy wincing at his side, your stomach dropping to somewhere around Pluto’s palace. “I don’t remember, well, anything, really.”

How foolish had you been? Percy had remembered Annabeth, sure, but Annabeth was his girlfriend. What were you to Jason?

Just another soldier, like he had claimed the day he went missing.

Just another soldier. Only ever soldiers.

And the worst part was he looked genuinely apologetic. You wished he could have scoffed and waved you off, like some prissy, no-good asshole that turned up his nose simply because he was the savior of the world and had earned so much battlefield glory he practically reeked of it.

But that wasn't like Jason. No, not only did the jerk have to be the strongest, most strategic soldier you had ever had the pleasure of fighting alongside, he was also one of the nicest.

Holding open doors, comforting the new, young, arrivals, braiding your hair for you to keep it out of your face that one time the stomach bug had torn its way through the Fifth Cohort. You had spent thirty-six straight hours bent over a toilet, and Jason had been there through all of it.

I don't remember, well, anything, really.

But you had never just been anything to Jason. Sometimes, he looked at you and you could almost convince yourself that you were his everything.

Dakota, of all people, a little hopped up on kool-aid, came to your rescue. Knotting his red-stained fist in the back of your toga, he tugged you back into the line of centurions, using his body to block Jason from your line of sight.

And you would have expressed your thanks, if you had been able to express anything beyond total heartache.

“No one would blame you if you snuck out,” Dakota lowered his voice, ducked his head close to your ear, and that snapped you out of your stupor.

“And leave my legion?” You glared sharply at him, glad for an excuse to funnel out some of your anger, though you felt a little bad that Dakota had been your punching bag the last six months. Really, you owed him. “I don’t think so. I’m fine. Just… shocked. I’m good.”

Dakota winced. Usually, you were ace at lying.

Who tied Octavian’s shoelaces together?

Not me, you’d dutifully shake your head.

Who broke curfew and snuck into the city to retrieve little Julia’s stuffed teddy from Octavian’s sacrifice pile?

I’d never, you’d claim, aghast.

Who’s head over fucking heels, dizzyingly in love with Jason Grace?

Not my type, you’d hold a hand over your heart, scouts honor.

But a simple I’m fine?

Even Frank Zhang couldn’t pretend to not know you were lying through your clenched teeth, and he pretended like he had never found you sobbing outside bunkhouse after curfew one night, a few days following his arrival at camp.

How had Jason forgotten you? It didn’t feel real, but everything felt like too much.

Maybe Dakota had a point. Maybe you needed to get out.

"Come," Reyna ordered, breaking the silent tension that had been building as Greeks and Romans alike stopped to gawk at your conversation with Dakota. "Let's eat."

You picked your helmet up out of the dirt, a dutiful little soldier with lungs full of glass shards.

You were supposed to be strong.

You were supposed to be strong, but you were just a kid.

Ten years old to be exact. Tears stung at your eyes, burned their way up your throat. You could have vomited. You might have already.

You're a thief and a monster, the other kids at school had claimed, words like bullets as they lobbed pencils and crumbled paper and anything they could get away with at you.

A thief, you would admit to being. You couldn't help it, fingers moving almost of their own accord, always finding the easiest target, the shiniest reward. It didn't matter that you always returned everything you took. No one wanted to be friends with the freak that managed to lift the teacher's wedding band off her finger in kindergarten.

A thief, you were.

But a monster? Monsters were the creatures that clawed at your window at night. Monsters were the odd shapes in the grass your mother never managed to see. You weren't a monster. You were ten.

"Hey, we're not supposed to be back here."

The voice of another child cut through your misery, and you sharpened your glare to pin the intruder to his spot. You recognized him, because he was the type of guy that had called you names in school. Tall—for a kid—and built like an athlete. Tan skin, blond hair, blue eyes.

You were pretty sure his name was Jake Greene, or something.

"You're back here," You reasoned, waving a hand littered with scabbed knuckles around for emphasis. Here being the stretch of unwatched grass behind the Mess Hall, a little place you had discovered on your second day and realized it was secluded enough that no one could see you cry.

Now, a week in, you discovered that it was secluded enough that no one could see you cry, but Jake Greene.

He looked around uncomfortably, like he was just then realizing that he, too, was breaking the rules. Slowly, he glanced over his shoulder, as if checking for witnesses, before trodding through the plush grass to sit beside you, legs stretched out in front of him while yours were pulled tight to your chest.

You checked the ground quickly, relieved to find you hadn't actually vomited.

"I'm Jason. Jason Grace." He introduced himself, as if your eyes weren't bloodshot and face blotchy and cheeks wet with tears.

Not Jake. Noted. Now that you thought about it, you didn't think there was a Jake at Camp Jupiter. Not one that you had met, yet, at least.

You nodded, hoping Jason, Jason Grace would get the hint that you wanted absolutely no fucking part of whatever nice guy routine he was putting on. Even if he was one of the few to approach you since you had arrived, bloody and starved, at the camp's borders, Lupa and her pack deciding you worthy.

This one is feisty, you could have sworn the alpha wolf had snarled a grin at the older centurion who found you. Young, but strong willed.

You didn't feel strong willed. You felt like you missed your own home.

You had to remind yourself that your own home hadn't wanted you and your new home was a Roman military camp.

"Your father is Mercury, right?" Jason tried again, this time earning a sharp glare.

It was easier to be angry than it was to be vulnerable, wasn't it? Wasn't that why you always bit the hand that fed you, got sent to the literal fucking wolves at ten years old?

Jason Grace didn't flinch at your hatred. Hatred? That wasn't the right word. You didn't hate anything or anyone but the schools and teachers that had convinced your mother that you were too difficult to deal with, that you needed to be sent away.

Can I come back for Christmas, Mom?, you had naively asked, not understanding why your mother was crying as you rolled to a stop outside a crumbling, wooden house in Sonoma.

A week later, you wondered if your mother was still crying. Or maybe she was enjoying the peace of no longer getting calls from schools or policemen about you.

You wished you could wipe your hands clean of yourself, like Mom had. Maybe you would understand why everyone in your life always seemed happier after they had gotten rid of you.

"It's not so bad here, I promise," He tried, again, and part of you had to congratulate him for not giving up. You would have. "I cried, a lot, when I first got here."

"You?" The exclamation fell past your lips before you could help it, and Jason's own twisted into a victorious grin. He had a scar, on the side of his lips, shining pearly white in the sun, set against his skin.

"Me," He confirmed. Sure, you had just met the guy, had been calling him the wrong name for a week, but he didn't seem like the type to cry. "I did come here when I was two, though."

You didn't know whether to gasp or swat his arm in retaliation, so you did both, finally uncurling from the ball of fear and hatred you had woven yourself into.

"You're really good in training," Jason complimented, taking your childlike assault in stride. You nodded, picking a few blades of grass out of the ground, right at the roots.

"I used to fight in school," You offered, if it was that simple. But punching your bullies was a whole lot different than locking sword and shield.

In the bunkhouse, the boy in the bed across from you was a son of Ceres, the goddess of the harvest. Your first night, in an effort to make you stop crying, rambled on and on about plants. How to properly care for different crops, what too little sunlight did to a flower, and how a tree could be dug up from the ground, roots and all, and planted somewhere else to live a perfectly normal, perfectly long life.

You stared at the blade of grass in your hand, feeling very much like the plant, your roots floating in the middle of nowhere by the hand of some unseen, unforgiving god.

But maybe you could plant your roots, too.

"If I don't make it here," You whispered, little kid voice hoarse. "Then that's it for me. I don't have anywhere else. I'll have to live on the streets. I've done it, once. Made it a whole week before Mom found me."

Part of you regretted the words as soon as they left your lips. What had Lupa shown you about weakness? It got you killed. It got you punished.

But Jason didn't sneer. He pursed his lips in a thin line, scar shining even brighter with the movement.

"I don't know my mom," He confessed, suddenly just as weak as you. Frowning, you tried to figure out why he was saying it. Big, strong—at least to ten year old you—Jason Grace should not have been any kind of weak.

Nodding, you didn’t have anything to say. But you felt the connection build, just two weak children, forgotten by their mothers.

“But I know you,” Jason offered, the admission warming something in your chest involuntarily. And you knew in that moment that maybe you were scared, but you weren’t alone.

At least Jason Grace knew you.

You grinned, then. A far cry from the glares and snarls everyone else you had come across had received. The ones that even he had been victim to, at the start of the conversation.

"Well, Jason Grace," You stuck out your hand, and he clasped your forearm like a good little Roman. "You're never getting rid of me, now."

The smile he gave you in return was a little lopsided, and when he dropped your arm and glanced over his shoulder, you remembered that your not-so secret hiding spot was off limits.

"Just don’t tell anyone we were back here, please.”

If you had thought your mood was bitter before the trireme arrived, it was nothing compared to the sulking, sorrowful mess you currently were.

For starters, you had somehow been shoved and duped into the seat beside Octavian and across from Jason. You didn't really want to see either of them, at all, at the moment.

Secondly, and you may have been reading far too much into things, but the second girl the Greeks arrived with, Piper, was sitting entirely too close to Jason. You wished that you had a good enough reason to not like her, but with your rotten luck, Piper McLean had been an absolute sweetheart despite your best efforts to act like a dickhead.

And it wasn't like Jason had ever actually been yours, ever.

Third. The plate the sprites dropped in front of you was filled with all of Jason's favorite foods. You weren't sure if it was your will or the sprites that made it happen, but you felt like tossing it all away.

Maybe you would dump it in Octavian's lap. It might make you feel better. It certainly was worth a try.

Finally, there was one aching thought echoing inside your mind relentlessly. The last conversation you ever had with your Jason had been an argument. You had walked away from him, a little petulant, entirely unnecessarily. And you had lost your soldier boy.

Because the Jason seated across from you at the Dining Hall in New Rome was not the same one that wrote out your to-do lists for you on neatly lined paper, offering to tag along with you while you checked them off.

He was just Jason, not yours.

And that hurt far more than you cared to admit.

“Centurion, you must be ecstatic,” Octavian crooned, his sickly smirk pinned on you. You felt a whole lot of things, but ecstatic wasn’t one of them.

“How so, Augur?” You huffed, even though you knew it only invited trouble. Across from you, Jason and Piper clearly had one ear on the conversation.

"Well, you have been inconsolable with our dear Jason Grace missing," Octavian said, as if he really cared about you. More heads started turning in your direction, and you found your fingertips inching to do something that would really get you in trouble. "You were a mess, honestly. Looking like—"

"That's enough," Jason interrupted, even though he didn't have any memories of you.

At least he was still the same horribly perfect sweetheart he had been before he left. His months with the Greeks—all of them watching you with mixed emotions—hadn't turned him sour.

"Oh, you should have seen her, Jason!" Octavian was going now, flourishing in the attention and you hated him, hated him so much your cheeks burned as bright a red as the kool-aid trapped perpetually in Dakota's hip flask. "Crying, every night. She even has—"

"I said, enough, Octavian,"

"—has a key to your bunkroom!" The augur finished, and if you had been able to think of anything beyond your embarrassment or frustration or fear that you were totally, irrevocably erased from Jason's mind, you would have remembered Octavian's threat, earlier, before the trireme arrived. He was just exacting his twisted form of justice.

Embarrass me in front of the Senate, and I will destroy you in front of Jason Grace, you could practically hear him sneer.

"Wait," The Greek named Leo narrowed his eyes at Jason before darting them to you, a grin on his lips that screamed trouble. "Did you two use to date?"

"I don't know," Was Jason's clipped, short reply, his cheeks dusting pink as he fixed his attention on your face. He studied you like he didn't understand you, which was ridiculous, because sometimes it felt like you and Jason shared a heart.

"No," You grunted, shoving your plate forwards, glare fixed on the stupid cherry tomatoes rolling atop the porcelain that you despised and Jason adored.

"We never could figure out if that was the truth," Octavian slanted a look to you, smirking. "But I guess we don't have to worry about that now, do we Centurion? Since he has no memory of you, of—"

Faster than what would have been possible, if your father had been anyone different, you lifted the knife set beside your plate and slammed the tip into the wooden table, between two of his fingers. He screamed, and the plates on the table rattled.

Weapons were forbidden inside the Pomerian Line, but dinner knives were only utensils.

The whole table fell silent. And maybe the whole Dining Hall, had, beyond Octavian's spluttering and cursing and calling for your trial before the Senate for attacking an Augur.

And maybe if Percy wasn't glaring at Octavian, and Reyna hadn't been the one to slip you Jason's key, he might have had a case against you.

"Praetors," Standing, you bowed your head to Reyna and Percy, and though every muscle in your body screamed to pay the same respects to Jason, you couldn’t get yourself together enough to meet his eye. How could he not know you? "I request to be dismissed."

"I will come find you later." Reyna nodded, intelligent eyes shimmering with understanding, and you never realized just how much it hurt to be pitied by her. "We’ve got much to discuss."

"Yeah. Uh, lots." Percy nodded, looking between you and Reyna like he couldn’t quite figure out what he was missing. But then his attention snagged on Jason, seated across the table, and you saw it all—the understanding, the pity, the sorrow—pass over his face. "Wait—"

Annabeth jammed her elbow into his side, and you met her eye briefly. She might have been the only one who understood even a fraction of what you were going through.

But at least Percy remembered her, and he had loved her freely, before.

“Later.” You confirmed through clenched teeth, turning swiftly to try and find a spot far enough from Jason Grace so that his lack of memories didn’t hurt.

You weren’t sure such a spot existed.

Your feet carried you deeper into the city, walking past store after store. You couldn't stomach going into much of them, every bakery and café and bookstore holding some memory of Jason. Far more memories than he held, of you.

You weren't sure how much time had passed before you heard the first explosion.

And Roman training kicked in, instantly, as you raced towards the forum, where the Greek trireme was firing on your city, the one you had only just saved from and army led by a giant.

Fall in! You shouted, organizing legionnaires, your mind and your instincts at war. And you knew Greeks and Romans were at war, too. Protect the city!

You barely were able to glimpse the dark haired boy, Leo, manning the ballistae attached to the side of the ship before it took off, rocketing through the skies, even with Roman firepower slamming into the hull.

And as the trireme disappeared into the distance, fear tore through you.

Because you knew Jason. You knew he was on that ship, with his new friends. You knew he was sailing off with them, bound to a quest that meant saving the world, if what they said was to be trusted.

And you knew what came next.

Jason Grace, loyal to the end.

You were going to have to kill him.

a/n: did not mean to give reader such a tragic backstory but I kinda love it... im so curious to know what ur fav part is, bc I cannot decide. ty for reading this much and plz let me know what you think!

tag, you're it: @aezuria @tayswiftlovebot @bonnie-tz @folklorefantasies14 @sunshine-of-ur-life @irwinchester@bellamysnatblida @saph-nic @auroraofthesun1 @helloimamistake

#jason grace #jason grace fanfic #jason grace x y/n #jason grace x you #jason grace x reader #heroes of olympus #pjo #rays of sun #Jason Grace fanfiction #Jason Grace reader insert

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literatecowboy · 8 months

Text

The King With No Name

1. An Unconventional Princess

Part 2 here Summary: König - the king of Caldera - has been called upon by your father to choose a bride from his daughters in order to establish an alliance to keep peace over the lands they rule. When he arrives, he is enraptured by you, your father’s eldest child - an unconventional woman by all standards. He pursues your hand in marriage, doing his best to make you fall in love with him like he has fallen in love with you - much to your dismay Author's Notes: Inspired by the royalty fics I’ve been seeing around lately Warnings: Arranged marriage, eventual smut, pining, dogged pursuit of reader’s love and affection

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Kaustav Castle was well-positioned and well-fortified and as a result, had stood the test of time and war. Built at the intersection of three rivers on a large, grassy plain, it had served as the seed of a kingdom and a city had sprung up around it.

Many kings had walked its halls and ruled from its throne. Blood had been spilled on its battlements and fires had ripped through the chambers but she stood strong through war, flood, and plague.

The times were peaceful now and your father intended to ensure they remained that way, so he had invited a guest into your home. Gates creaked open and drawbridges crashed to the ground. Banners waved and fanfare played as the king of the neighboring empire, Caldera, rode his large black stallion into Kaustav Castle’s courtyard to be greeted by your father the King, and many of his lords.

Your sisters gathered at the window above in the dining room, watching as he came into view.

“Is that him? Why is he still wearing that hood?” Sadie asked, peering around Lydia to get a better view. She smoothed her hand through her hair and fanned herself slowly.

“They say he never takes it off, not even in his castle. He must be quite the terrifying sight on the battlefield.” Lydia murmured, watching as König dismounted and shook your father’s hand firmly.

“He’s so…big. The stories did not do him justice.” Sadie murmured. Her cheeks pinkened and she giggled. You rose from where you were seated by the fire, sharpening your hunting knife, and tucked the blade into its sheath at your side.

“Let me have a look,” you grunted, pushing the curtain further aside and looking down on the scene with your arms folded. König knelt and kissed your mother’s hand through the hood - you knew she would be impressed by his chivalry.

“You still want to marry him?” you turned to Sadie and leaned against the wall, concern etched across your face.

“If he chooses me, I will go. He…intrigues me,” she said with a soft smile, blushing.

“And what if he chooses you?” you asked Lydia. She frowned.

“I know that you’ve been speaking to Lord Henry and father seems to favor him. What will you do if König wishes to marry you?” you asked. Lydia shook her head.

“I will be making myself scarce, though I do not plan to avoid him outright like you do,” she admitted.

“Father wishes for him to marry me and I wish for the same. I will charm him and distract him from you two.” Sadie said, a twinkle in her eye. You snorted.

“Oh, Sadie, what would we do without you?” you said, smiling and embracing her gently. Outside, König and your parents walked into the castle.

“I ought to leave before they get up here. I’ll be in the stable preparing for a hunt if either of you needs a break from the formality.” you offered. Your sisters bid you goodbye as you slipped into the hidden servant’s corridor and raced downstairs and towards the outside world.

You had always been different from your sisters. Your father had hoped for sons, but when you were born and quickly followed by your sisters, he had elected to raise you like the son he did not have. While Sadie and Lydia had been raised as proper ladies and were doted upon by your father, he had raised you to ride and hunt and govern and had pushed you almost to the point of being controlling.

Your mother was still unsure about her oldest daughter going about like a man, but as your father was in poor health and there were no male heirs to the throne, she was relying on you growing up strong enough to maintain power after your father’s death to protect her, Sadie, and Lydia.

When you reached the stables below you called out a greeting to the stablehand who waved back to you. Your family was beloved by your father’s people and you made sure to spend time socializing in the village to build good relationships with the people you would someday lead.

“Going out for a hunt?” a voice called out to you from the back of the stable as you brought your little tan mare out of her stall and hitched her to a post. You raised your head and made eye contact with one of the lords visiting for König’s arrival.

“Ah, good morning, Lord Marrick. And yes, I’m off to look for game before dinner. Will you be joining my father and König?” you asked.

“Call me Ferdinand, please, my lady. And yes, I had planned to - will you not be attending?” he asked, leaning against the stable wall and offering your horse a snack.

“I’m doing my best to stay out of sight of König,” you admitted with a laugh. “My father has offered him the hand of any of his daughters, after all, and even though I am not…conventional…I wish not to risk marriage being forced upon me.”

“Will you never marry?” Ferdinand asked, his voice softening. There was something in his eyes that you couldn’t read as he came a little closer to you. You hefted a blanket, then a saddle, onto your horse’s back.

“No. When Father dies, I cannot risk having the control of my kingdom wrestled away from me by a man who means to harm the people,” you admitted. Ferdinand nodded slowly.

“That is…a shame, I must admit,” he said softly. Your cheeks felt hot. You and Ferdinand had known each other since you were children and had always been close. He cleared his throat as you tightened the straps of the saddle and buckled your bedroll onto the back.

“I have a gift for you,” he admitted. You turned and smiled at him.

“Oh, Ferdinand, you didn’t have to get me anything,” you said.

“Nonsense, your birthday just passed, did it not? This might help you on your hunt today,” he said, fumbling in his pocket. pulling out an item wrapped in cloth, and offering it to you. You took it and unwrapped it slowly, gasping when you saw the contents.

A small charm on a chain laid against the leather, delicately carved from a deer’s antler and decorated with silver. It was the symbol of the goddess you held most dear to your heart - the goddess of the woods and plains.

“It’s for good luck. I had it blessed by one of her priests in town before I came.” Ferdinand admitted, rubbing the back of his neck nervously.

“Oh, Ferdinand, it’s lovely. I will surely have bountiful hunts with this attached to my quiver.” You embraced him warmly, smiling against his chest as he hugged you tightly.

“Here, help me put it on!” you invited, slinging your quiver off your back and unlacing the leather at the top. You held tightly to it as Ferdinand gently laced the leather through the charm and tied it into place securely.

“Get going now, before the sun sets!” he said with a laugh, smiling as you took your horse’s reins.

“I’ll come see you later and tell you stories of my hunt should anything exciting happen,” you said, eyes gleaming as you led your horse out into the courtyard and prepared to mount up.

—

König sat in the parlor with your family chatting idly with your mother and father as Sadie leaned forward attentively and Lydia busied herself in the corner of the room behind him. Movement outside of the window in the courtyard drew his eye and he watched as you led your horse outside. He was instantly enraptured by your beauty, your boldness as you waved goodbye to someone in the stable, and your strength as you controlled your horse.

“I believed you to have three daughters?” he asked suddenly, cutting off your father as he discussed local harvests. Your mother and father glanced at each other warily.

“Yes, I do. The third is…a rather special case,” your father admitted, taking your mother’s hand. König watched as your horse nosed at your pocket and you laughed, pulling out the apple you had inside it and giving it to her. His chest tightened and he leaned forward slightly, gaze fixed on you intently. He watched the horse nibble at the apple in your small hand and imagined how it might fit in his.

“She is special?” he asked idly, his gaze fixed on you as you swung the reins around and mounted up. Your father followed his gaze.

“I have had no sons. I suppose that as a result, I raised her as I would have a son.” The room lapsed into silence.

König watched as you spurred your horse forward and took off at a gallop, laughing as you raced out of the castle gates and towards the open plains. His heart thumped faster in his chest and he was thankful for the hood that covered his flushing cheeks.

“I should like to meet her.”

—

Your hunt was largely uneventful, and you spent more time enjoying the sensation of the wind flowing through your hair and shooting at random tree targets than you did hunting game. As hours passed and the sun set, you felt sure that it would be safe to return home now. Sadie had surely charmed König and he had declared his intention to marry her to your father.

After reaching the stable and untacking your horse, you sorted everything away and fed her before bidding her goodnight. Ferdinand met you at the castle’s backdoor, concern in his eyes.

“Your father is looking for you. König seems set on wanting to meet you - he kept asking after you at dinner tonight,” he warned, following you as you slipped inside.

“Seriously? Do you know what he wants?” you asked, your eyes widening.

“Just to talk, I guess. He didn’t seem interested in Sadie or Lydia at all,” he said, following you as you headed into the kitchen.

“Fuck, Ferdinand, that’s the last thing I wanted,” you growled, snagging some leftovers one of the cooks had left for you and sitting down at the table in the corner. Ferdinand sat across from you.

“Just lay low, okay? I’ll warn you if I hear anything else.” he offered before taking his leave. You ate quickly and quietly, lost in thought, before rising and hurrying out of the kitchen and going into the servant’s stairwell. You thought it best to avoid the main halls for now - who knew where König may have been lurking?

When you reached your room you breathed a sigh of relief, shutting the door behind you. You had failed to see the looming shadow in the hallway behind you, and as you stepped behind the partition in the corner of the room to undress, the door slowly creaked open.

You froze - you were wearing only your underclothes - and slid your knife from its sheath on your belt which you had hung on its hook.

“Sadie? Lydia?” You called out softly, stepping slowly around the partition. You squeaked and dove back to safety as you caught sight of the looming mass standing at your door.

“Get out!” you whisper-shouted, doing your best not to wake your sisters sleeping across the hall.

“I am sorry. I had to see you…to speak to you. You are a thing of beauty.” he said, his heavily accented voice almost breathless.

“You have no right to come in while I am dressing!” you hissed, pulling your sleeping gown over your head so that you were covered and striding out into your room, your knife leveled at his chest.

“Get out!” you snarled, jabbing at him and fixing your stance to hold your ground.

“You are not capable of hurting me with that little thing, maus,” he murmured but did not come closer. Your hand trembled slightly as he drank you in.

“You are even more beautiful up close.” he breathed, eyes wide. He clasped his hands together and fell to his knees. He had not felt so flustered since he was a young boy.

“I would choose you from your sisters as my wife, maus, if you would have me. Please,” he begged softly, offering you his hands.

“Get out. I won’t warn you again. Marry Sadie.” you hissed dangerously. His heart fluttered - he was falling for you hard.

“If you will not agree now, you must come to know me and I will come to know you. Yes? I will come to see you tomorrow.” he breathed, the plea evident in his voice. You surged forward, pressing the tip of the knife where you guessed the base of his throat was.

“Out.” you snarled. König got up slowly, and taking the knife by the blade gingerly, kissed your hand as it was wrapped around the handle. You jerked away, leaving him with the knife.

“I will see you…gute nacht, maus,” he murmured, taking the knife with him as he left. Your heart thundered in his chest as you slammed and locked the door behind him.

What the fuck?

#könig #konig #konig mw2 #konig x reader #konig call of duty #konig cod #könig x reader #könig cod #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #call of duty #cod #konig modern warfare #konig fanfiction #cod x reader #cod mwii #cod modern warfare #cod mw2 #mw2

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pandorxxx · 8 months

Text

An Unexpected Visitor: Parallels

(Chapter 2)

Lo’ak x Omatikayan fem reader (All aged up)

Warnings: cursing, dom-Lo’ak, p in v, oral (M receiving), multiple orgasms, BREEDING KINK, daddy kink, praise kink, degrading kink (kinda), lo’ak being all romantic

Chapter 1

Synopsis: You were promised to Neteyam. Him being next in line for olo’eyktan and you training to be the next tsahik, it only made sense. However, you had lo’ak on your mind. What happens when lo’ak gets tired of sneaking around, and asks you to be his mate? Will your father approve of this?

🔞MDNI🔞

“No.” Your father sterned. Sharpening his knife infront of your shared family hut. No? What did he mean….no?

You had built the courage to ask your father if lo’ak could come to dinner tomorrow night. And trust, it was hard to just come out and say it. So for him to just shut you down immediately, it hurt your feelings.

“But daaadddd!” You whined, arms crossed around your chest. “No buts! You are promised to Neteyam. It took me long enough to get over THAT. Now you’re In-love with his younger brother? Do you see how this makes you look?” He asked, haulting the attack on his knife to glance at you with a confused look.

“Ok. I’m not IN-LOVE with him. I just like him…a lot. And those were rules YOU and Mr.SULLY set into place. Neteyam and I have no romantic connection at all.” You clapped back, respectfully.

“I get that, trust me. And if you wish to not be mated with neteyam, we can come to a common decision. But you will NOT mate with lo’ak. He is a trouble maker. My daughter does not need to be seen with the likes of someone like that.” He explained, giving you a quick look that signaled for you to leave this situation alone for now. However, you had to explain yourself, and get your father to see things your way.

“Father. He’s not as bad as you think he is. He is learning to be good, and gentle. He’s sweet to me, and he treats me right. He’s actually the one who requested that I set this meeting up between you two. He didn’t want to take me out on a date without your blessing.” You spoke softly, fiddling with your thumbs while you swayed back and forth.

Your fathers ears flicked in the cool night breeze, and his eye contact shot to you in surprise. This didn’t sound like the lo’ak that HE knew. Not the hothead, the fighter, the trouble maker that Jake had told him about. This sounded like a gentleman. Someone who might actually love his daughter. And then he thought about how he met your mother. It was a similar story to you and lo’ak. He was TOO a trouble maker, but when he met your mother, something inside of him changed for the better. Maybe this was some kind of weird parallel.

He sighed, clenching his jaw as he looked out into the distance…thinking about what he was going to say next….

“Dinner is just before sunset. No earlier, no later.” Your father said, standing to his full height. His expression was still, but you could tell that he was opened to meeting lo’ak, properly.

“Oh, Thank you Father! Thank you so much!” You rejoiced, giving your father the biggest hug your little arms could. You could hear the faint chuckle rumbling in his chest as he hugged you back.

- - -

You were over the moon. It was all you could think about as you sat in your room. There was actually a possibility that this could work out. But then it hit you…the anxiety.

This is such an awkward meeting, really. Your father isn’t a fan of lo’ak, and lo’ak knows that. Yet, you have the 2 most important men in your life finally coming face to face. And eywa, they were one and the same. That’s why you liked lo’ak so much, he reminded you of your father. All of the good, and not so good qualities. Two bold personalities in one room? This was going to be an interesting night…

- - -

The next day, you drowned yourself in your daily chores. Just so you could get everything off of your mind. Your nerves were coursing through your entire body so heavily that it was hard to think of anything else BUT tonight. You were also very antsy and “jumpy” today. So when you felt a hand wrap around your arm and pull you behind the nearby tree, you let out a high pitched shriek.

“Woah, woah HEY! Chillll out. It’s just me.” Lo’ak chuckled, holding a finger over his lips to signal for you to be quiet. You let out a huge sigh of relief, backing into the tree behind you.

“You fucking scared me! Are you crazy?” You hissed lowly, punching him in the stomach, yet it didn’t faze him whatsoever.

“Damn, im sorry. We do this everyday, and you’ve never reacted like this. You good?” He asked with his lighthearted smirk that made you melt. You realized that you may have over reacted alittle bit.

“I-Im sorry, lo’ak. I’m just alittle on edge about tonight. That’s all.” You shook your head, clearing your throat.

“Didnt your father say it was ok for me to come over?” He asked, his hand now resting on the bark behind you. “Well, yes! Yes…he did.” You spat. Lo’ak gave you a look as if he wanted you to continue your thought.

“Buuuuttt?” He asked, signaling for you to keep talking. “But, I’m nervous. What if it doesn’t go well?” You whined, pouting up at him as tears began to flood your vision. He stepped alittle closer, caressing your cheek gently.

“It WILL go well, ok? Your fathers gonna love me. I’ll make sure of it. You don’t need to worry your pretty little head. Don’t cry, please? I’ve got this, I SWEAR to you. You trust me?” His tone more serious than you’ve ever heard it before.

“Mhm.” You whined, nodding your head.

“Good girl.” He smiled, shifting his large hand to your neck before pecking your soft lips.

“And plus…you look too good to be crying right now. You got all dressed up for me, huh?” He asked, that playful tone making an appearance again. He took a step back just to admire you. And eywa, you were beautiful.

You were wearing his favorite color, purple. The cloths were alittle more revealing than usual, but he liked that. It just meant that he’d have to work twice as hard to keep the other men away from you. You had the glitter that you liked to wear, all over your body. Not too much, just enough to hit the sun just right. He loved it on you. He didn’t care that his mother would give him dirty looks when he walked into his family hut shining like a fucking disco ball. And your hair…eywa he couldn’t forget about your hair.

It always smelled so good. You wore it in different styles everyday, which was different from the other girls he’d seen. But his favorite style was the 2 Dutch braids. You looked great with them, but he had…other reasons for why he liked them. He would use them as leverage when he fucked you senseless from behind. And ofcourse, you were sporting that same style today.

“Fuuuck.” He whispered, eyeing you up and down. You giggled alittle bit, you loved getting him flustered. He took a few steps closer, now placing both of his hands on the bark behind you.

“You sure know how to take me there, don’t you?” He asked, leaving wet kisses on your neck. Your head flew back against the bark, lip between your teeth as you basked in the pleasure.

“I just wanna eat your sexy ass up.” He groaned, one of his hands sliding down to the small of you back, pulling you flush into him harshly. He had a grip on you so tight that you could really see the muscle definition in his arm.

“Mmm, L-Lo’ak, I’ve gotta go back.” You moaned, haulting his attack on your neck to kiss his lips sloppily. He groaned into the kiss, now sliding his hand down to the plush of your ass, gripping it firmly. You moaned into his mouth, pulling him closer to you if that was even possible.

Maybe you were getting alittle side tracked…but you couldn’t fucking help it. Not with lo’ak all over you, making you feel good. But if this was going to work, you two had to get over this little hurdle first. It was about the bigger picture at the end of the day.

You pulled away quickly, giving him no time to grab you. You wiped your lips and adjusted your loincloth. He growled in frustration, jaw clenching as he wiped his lips with his thumb, eyeing your small frame. You loved seeing him aggravated, it was so damn hot.

“You’re such a fucking tease.” He chuckled angrily. “Well, I have to GO.” You smirked, eyeing him up and down before turning to walk away. You didn’t really get too far, he pulled you flush into his chest by your braids.

“Yeah, ok. Soon I’ll have you…and I mean REALLY have you. And once I get you….I’m not letting up…I’ll see you later.” He whispered in your ear, placing a small peck on the lobe before letting you go and walking off. Leaving you completely disoriented…..and horny.

- - -

The day went on as usual. Still alittle nervous but excited for the possibility that lo’ak could finally be yours.

It was almost time, and your mother was getting dinner ready while your father was setting the table. You…on the hand, were pacing back and forth outside of your families hut, anxiously waiting for lo’aks arrival.

Your palms were sweaty and your heart was racing. The worst possible scenario’s continued to play in your head. You just wished that you could skip all of this, and get to the good part…if there even was one.

“You’re gonna burn a whole in the ground, kid.” Your father spoke, a tinge of playfulness in his tone. You turned quickly, meeting your fathers gaze.

“I-I’m just alittle nervous is all.” You confessed, constantly looking back to see if lo’ak was coming or not.

“If I wasn’t going to give him a FAIR chance, then he wouldn’t have been invited. I’m not going to be biased, or rude. So stop pacing.” He chuckled, arms crossed around his broad chest.

You sighed, feeling alittle bit better about the situation now. You nodded, turning back around to look out for lo’ak. It was silence for a few seconds before your father began to speak again.

“You know…lo’ak was a lot like me when I was his age.” He said, leaning against the foundation of the hut. Your ears perked, turning to look at your father.

“Really? How so?” You asked.

“Well, your uncle was the golden child. He really did everything in his power to live up to our fathers expectations. He listened, pulled his weight and mines most of the time. He stayed out of trouble. Kinda like Neteyam.” He started.

“And you?” You asked. He sighed, looking off into the distance.

“I was a hot head, always in fights. I liked to do my own thing, and couldn’t care less about my father’s expectations for me. I caused a lot of trouble back then, babygirl.” He finished, a look of defeat plastering his face.

“Well what happened? You’re definitely not like that anymore.” You asked curiously. Your father chuckled to himself, smiling ear to ear as his tail began to sway behind him quickly.

“Your mother happened.” He said with pride. A look of hope began to paint your face. You wanted to know more.

“Well go onnn!” You spat, waiting for the rest of this familiar love story. Your father chuckled before continuing.

“Your uncle was supposed to mate with her. But I was the one who LIKED her. And just my luck, she liked me too. We started hanging out, and we fell in love. Her father didn’t approve of this because of my reputation, so we would sneak around. But I don’t know I just…..I wanted something MORE with your mother. So I promised her that I would be good. Be the man that she deserved. And that I did. I would’ve done anything to make her mine.” He confessed. If you weren’t mistaken, you could see tears prickling at your fathers eyes.

“That’s so sweet, dad. Did grandfather ever approve of you?” You asked, curiously.

“It took time but…he did eventually.” Your father nodded. “But I want to give lo’ak a chance because I know what it’s like…to be one big disappointment.” He muttered, ears folded to his skull. This all seemed too familiar, it was almost scary for you. It’s funny how history repeats itself, you thought.

“And speaking of lo’ak…” your father smiled, nudging his head in your direction. You turned around swiftly, and there he was… walking towards your hut with flowers in hand. Your heart began to flutter, and you just couldn’t help the smile that was creeping up on your face. You were so excited to see him, especially after the story that your father had shared with you.

“LO’AK!” You shouted in an excited tone, running towards him. He smiled at you, holding his arms out for your embrace.

“Hey, babygirl.” He chuckled , catching you in one of his arms. He hugged you tightly, his arm wrapped around your middle. He just gave you a small peck on your cheek out of respect for your father before he placed you back on the ground, gracefully.

“These are for you, yawne.” He smiled, placing the flowers in your hand. You giggled, admiring how pretty the bioluminescence flora was.

“They’re gorgeous. Thank you, my love.” You smiled, grabbing his hand. You pulled him towards your hut, where your father was trying his best to hide his smile. He cleared his throat, putting on a serious face when you both reached him.

With your hand in his, lo’ak stretched out his free hand, signing a greeting to your father. Lo’ak took a deep breath before speaking.

“Oel Ngati Kameie, keivìo Te Lepeä Hiìweron’itan.” He spoke confidently, now extending his hand for a hand shake. You waited in anticipation. Watching your father glance at lo’aks hand and then back up at him….it felt like minutes went by. Until a welcoming smile creeped across your fathers face, extending his arms for a hug.

“Oel Ngati Kameie, lo’ak te suli Tsyeyk’itan.” Your father spoke with a small nod. Lo’ak became visibly happy, smiling ear to ear as he embraced your father with a genuine hug. You watched in awe, almost in tears at the scene infront of you.

“How you doin’, kid?” Your father asked, patting lo’ak on the back. “Im doing well, sir. Thank you for asking.” Lo’ak nodded. He was honestly relieved that your father was willing to give him a fair judgment.“That’s great, lo’ak. Im happy to hear that.” He started.

“We’ve gotta talk, ok? Man to man. Just you and I. Deal?” Your father asked. “Ofcourse sir, I completely understand.” Lo’ak gave him a firm nod.

“Y/n, how about you go check on dinner. I’m gonna talk to your little boyfriend here about a few things.” Your father joked, causing you and lo’ak to laugh. “Yes, father.” You nodded before walking into the hut.

“Let’s sit down.” Your father spoke, gesturing at the chairs Infront of him. They both took a seat, staring off into the night sky.

“What are your intentions, lo’ak?” Your father asked calmly. Lo’ak had been waiting to confess his love for you, and this was the perfect time.

“Well, I know I have a bit of a reputation. So, I can see why you would ask that question.” He chuckled before continuing. “But I love, y/n. And I’m trying to change for her, to be the man that she deserves. Because the truth is….I want her to be my mate. But I know I have some work to do if I want to gain your blessing, sir.” Lo’ak finished, feeling proud that he was able to express his feelings the correct way.

“Hmm.” Your father nodded, a smile creeping across his lips. “I have no doubt in my mind that you’ll protect her, and keep her safe as well. I’ve seen you in action before. So I’ll skip that question.” Your father joked, insinuating that lo’aks numerous fights were enough to seal that deal. Lo’ak chuckled at the comment before speaking.

“I’m glad you know that. But I’ll only be fighting if I need to protect HER from now on. No other reasons sir, I swear.” Lo’ak spoke affirmatively.

“Good, Good. And so I’m assuming that you already have a personal hut picked out for you two, right?” Your father asked. It was normal to move in with your mate expeditiously. That’s how it happened with your mother and father, and that’s how it was supposed to happen for you and lo’ak.

“I do, sir. It was a surprise that I’d been working on for some time. I built it myself, just for her.” Lo’ak explained.

“Oh, so you just knew you were going to mate with my daughter?” Your father chuckled, and lo’ak along with him. “Well, I was hoping that I would. And it’s better to be prepared for moments like this.” Lo’ak smiled.

“Hey, I get it! Trust me. When were you planning on moving in?” Your father asked. Lo’ak gulped loudly, hoping that his next answer wouldn’t jeopardize the rapport he had just built with this man.

“Well….with your blessing, ofcourse. I was hoping to move her in tomorrow.” Lo’ak finished his statement more like a question, looking over to your father.

“Hmm.” Your father nodded, staring into the night sky. It was silence for a minute or two while your father took time to think.

“You have my blessing to mate with my daughter. She speaks so highly of you, it’s kinda hard not to say yes. And if she’s happy, then I’m happy.” Your father confessed. Lo’ak mentally cheered, he was so damn happy that everything was going as planned. “Thank you. Thank you so much sir!” Lo’ak smiled.

“I want you to remember this conversation when you’re sitting where I am…talking to YOUR daughters future mate.” Your father laughed, him and lo’ak both standing in unison. Lo’ak chuckled, extending his hand out for another handshake. Your father obliged with a bright smile.

“Take care of my little girl, please. She’s my only daughter. And if ,later down the line, you find out that this just isn’t for you…I just ask that you don’t hurt her….just bring her back to me.” Your father explained with a firm nod.

“Oh, sir. I would never hurt her. I want this forever. I will do anything to keep her happy. And you know I’ll protect her with my life, that’s a promise.” Lo’ak spoke in a serious tone, because he meant every fucking word.

“Thank you, lo’ak.” Your father nodded.

“Let’s eat, then!” You father cheered, guiding lo’ak into the hut for dinner.

The night went better than you expected. It was filled with joy, and laughter. You couldn’t have asked for a better way to end your day. And once it was over, your father and mother said their goodbyes to lo’ak.

“Hey, how about you two go out or something? No need to sneak around anymore.” Your father joked, winking at lo’ak. Lo’ak understood immediately. It was time to show you the home that he built for his future family.

“Ah! You’re absolutely right, sir.” Lo’ak agreed, taking you by the hand. You were alittle confused. Now all of the sudden your father and lo’ak were in cahoots on something that you had no knowledge of.

“Where are we going this late?” You chuckled, looking back at your father. He sighed loudly.

“I finally give you to the man, and now you want to ask all these questions. Just go with him.” You father laughed, causing an uproar of laughter from everyone.

“You trust me?” He asked, eyebrow cocked as he awaited an answer. “Ofcourse I do.” You smiled. Lo’ak kissed you on the forehead before pulling you towards the hut door.

“Uhh, what time should I have her back?” Lo’ak asked. You both looking back at your father.

“I think we’re way past that now. She’s all yours. You two have fun tonight, and be safe…..NO BABIES YET PLEASE!” Your father spoke, shoving you both out of the hut and closing the door. You and lo’ak both glanced at eachother before laughing in unison, and you were off to your secret location….

You two had been walking for about 10 minutes before you came across this great big hut. It was the biggest one you’d ever seen. It was nicely built as well. You could tell that whoever worked on this, had some kind of personal connection to it.

“Lo’ak? What’s going on?” You asked curiously. He smiled at you before opening the door and guiding you in.

“Welcome home, yawne.” He spoke softly, closing the door behind him. You gasped, looking around the beautiful hut. Nicely woven rugs covered the floor. There was a huge sitting area in the middle of the hut. There were steps that lead up to an opened loft area, where a huge sized cot laid. It was gorgeous…and all yours?

“Home? Like…you and I?” You asked, turning around to face him. He nodded at you, walking alittle closer.

“I spent months making this for us, because I knew that I’d make you mine one day. I’ve been making plans for us, baby. I want this to be real. I want you to be my mate…” he confessed, a heartwarming, proud smile plastering across his face. You never thought a guy like lo’ak could be so romantic. It really took you by surprise. He deserved the world for the way he’s been treating you.

“Lo’ak, I love you so much. I wanna mate with you too.” You explained, a hint of lust in your voice that he didn’t quite pick up on yet.

“Oh, I love you more baby. Im glad we’re on the same page.” He nodded, smiling at you innocently.

“Hmm. I wanna mate with you…right now.” You confessed, head tilted slightly as you walked over to him. Caressing his chest.

“Oh?” He spoke, eyebrow cocked as he watched your hands roam his body. His muscles began to tense at your soft touch.

“Yeah. I wanna start that family we’ve been talking about. Remember?” You asked, backing him into the couch until he plopped down on the plush surface. He looked visibly flustered, guess he wasn’t really expecting this from you tonight.

“I-I remember.” He nodded, adjusting his hips as he watched you intently. You began to take off your items, piece by piece.

“Damn. You’re coming outta that shit pretty quickly, don’t you think?” He asked with a lustful tone as he watched each item hit the floor until you were completely naked before him. You smirked, dropping to your knees infront of him.

“Not quick enough. I need you right now.” You confessed, palming his huge bulge. His head dipped back into the couch as he hissed loudly.

“Fuck, you know I hate when you tease. Just take it, baby. It’s all yours.” He moaned, his head shooting back down to where you were. That was all you needed to hear. Damn the strings of his loincloth, you began to rip it off of his hips until his aching cock was visible. It was jumping with every heartbeat as precum oozed from the tip.

You immediately began to stroke his cock, nice and slow how he liked it. He was quickly becoming a mess under you, and you haven’t even done anything yet. Maybe he was still horny from earlier in the day, but he seemed alittle more sensitive than usual.

You began kitty licking the tip before sucking on it, swirling your wet tongue around it until he was squirming under you. Then without warning, you engulfed his entire length. Immediately bobbing your head up and down his large shaft nice and slow.

“Ohhh that’s it. Juuust like that, goddamn.” He moaned, thrusting his hips into your mouth gently. Your amber eyes shot up at him, watching him bask in the pleasure. He was so hot. His eyebrows were furrowed as a thin layer of sweat began to form on his skin. He would let out a small whimper with every roll of your tongue. You were driving that man crazy.

“You’re k-killing me, baby. Gonna make me cum in that pretty mouth.” He muttered through a clench jaw. He grabbed the back of your head, steadying it to fuck your throat.

You opened your mouth wide and let him use you as his own personal little fuck toy. You began to gag, tears falling down your cheeks as your eyes crossed.

“Yesss, look at that. Only time I like watching your sexy ass cry.” He groaned, muscles contracting as his peak was nearing quickly.

“Shit baby, I-I’m boutta nut.” He moaned, eyes rolling to the back of his head as his mouth fell agape. He used his free hand to grip the plush of the couch while his head dipped back in pure bliss.

“Mhmmm, that’s ittttt.” He growled, releasing his load into your mouth. Ropes and ropes of cum finding refuge on your tongue. He slid you off of his cock carefully, a loud gasp parting your lips as his seed flowed down your chin. Your were all teary eyed and flustered, it was so hot.

“Are you gonna fuck me now?” You asked, slurping the access seed off of his balls. He finally caught his breath, watching you intently.

“Hmm. You want this dick, don’t you? You need it right?” He asked in a soft yet lustful tone. You simply nodded.

“I want your babies in me. I wanna be pregnant with your children, lo’ak. Give it to me, please.” You begged, playing with your breasts sensually.

“Oh, now you want my babies huh? Want me to make you a mom, right? Like the little slut you are. You just need to be filled up reaaaal nice, yes?” He asked, standing to his full height infront of your kneeling figure.

“Yes, daddy.” You nodded, waiting for him to have his way with you. He clenched his jaw with a low growl. Without warning, he picked you up, walking you over to the wooden table.

He plopped you down and began attacking your neck while simultaneously scenting you. You were his and ONLY his now. It was time that everyone knew.

His strong arm was wrapped around your middle, bringing you closer to him as he stood between your legs. You could feel the slick pooling onto the wood beneath you, smearing your thighs and making a mess. You were so ready for him.

He pulled away, grabbing his cock to line up with your entrance. Before you knew it, he was buried deep inside of you. You both moaning loudly as he began to thrust into you nice and deep. His strokes were rhythmic, rolling his hips into yours with a fucking purpose.

He placed his hands on either sides of your thighs firmly while he teased your lips with his. Ghosting them as he moaned from the intense pleasure.

“This pussy is driving me crazy, baby. It’s so fucking good.” He smirked, against your lips creating a great amount of tension between you two.

“Think you can make me a father, hmm? Wanna carry my babies for me like a good girl?” He asked, tilting his head to get a better angle of your pleasure filled face. His thrusts began to get harder, rocking the entire hut with his force.

“Y-Yessss!” You whined, tears blurring your vision. You and lo’ak have had sex numerous times. But this time was overwhelming, and oh so fucking good.

“Want me to fill this pussy up? Until you’re leaking my seed? Hmm? You need this shit, don’t you?” He teased, his lips still ghosting yours as he fed you deep strokes. You couldn’t even think straight, you were a fucked out mess. Blabbering complete nonsense, going dumb for the pleasure.

“I-I need it. Need it s-s-oooo bad, daddy.” You whimpered, arching your back and dipping your head to the ceiling. He used that as the perfect opportunity to nip at your neck with his sharp fangs. Still simultaneously playing in your guts like his life depended on it.

Your walls began to flutter around his cock, signaling that you were close…very close. “I-I’m gonna cum. D-Daddy, you’re gonna make me cummm!” You cried, your pretty face balling up in pleasure. You felt him smirk against your neck, speeding up his pace to get you there quicker.

“Mhm, cum for daddy. Let it all out, you deserve it pretty girl.” He praised, placing a few more kisses on your neck before his lips were inches away from yours again. You were in complete euphoria, nothing like you had ever experienced before. And you knew this orgasm was going to ruin you in the best way possible.

“Wait, I think I-I’m gonna squirt, lo’ak.” You whispered, panting heavily as you began to push on his stomach lazily.

“Yeah? It feels so good that you wanna squirt for me, huh?” He teased, his thumb finding its way to your clit, rubbing it gently to stimulate you further.

Your mouth flew opened, silent screams escaping while he kissed your bottom lip. “That’s it, squirt for me then baby.” He nodded, working your pussy in every way possible. Your whole body started to seize, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you began to come undone. Your squirt painting lo’aks abdomen.

“Ohhhh shit.” Lo’ak moaned. Your orgasm was triggering his. The constant fluttering of your walls was desperately trying to milk him dry.

“Y/n, im cumming…o-ohhh fuuck im cumming!” He groaned, eyes rolling in pleasure as he finally released inside of you. Ropes and ropes of endless seed dumping into your empty womb. It felt so good, that it had you cumming again.

“Yesss daddy, that’s itttt!” You screamed, legs completely numb at this point. He fucked you both through your orgasms. You two becoming an overstimulated mess for eachother.

“I gotta fill you up again. I-I need it.” He growled, pulling out of you to flip you over aggressively. He pinned your wrists behind your back with just one of his giant hands. The other one guiding his cock back into you. You both moaning at the feeling again.

He set a merciless rhythm from the start, fucking his seed deep into you so there’s no excuse why you’re not pregnant in the weeks to come. The heavy smacks caused by his deep thrusts were ringing through the hut. He was fucking the daylights out of you, using you as his personal toy that he could do with whatever he so pleased.

“I told you that I wouldn’t let up when I finally got you, remember? HMM?” He asked, jaw clenched and eyes focused on the recoil of your ass.

“Yes! I-I remember, daddy…I remember!” You cried, your voice rippling from his forceful thrusts that were single handedly shaking the entire fucking room.

“I’m gonna breed you as many times as I feel like it tonight. WHERE EVER I feel like it! I’m gonna breed this pussy on the couch, on the floor, on that fucking cot I built! On this goddamn table! I don’t give a fuck, got it?!” He growled, pulling your 2 Dutch braids for leverage.

“Mhmm! I understand, I-I swearrr!” You screamed, your orgasm creeping up on you once more. He shifted his hands to your ass, holding your cheek open to watch his creamy cock sliding in and out of your tight cunt.

“Ohh…yeah” he groaned, his bottom lip in between his teeth. He was close again. So ready to fill you up for a second time.

“I-im gonna nut in this pussy again, fuuuuck.” He moaned, smacking your ass a few times until his huge handprints were visible on you. He continued to expertly smash into your sweetspot with every hard thrust.

“Ohhh great mother, please! I-I’m cumming again, I’m cumming again lo’ak!” You screamed to the top of your lungs, your voice becoming horse and strained. You began to seize again, screaming loudly as you released for a third time.

“The great mother cannot save you from ME. You’ve gotta take this dick, tonight.” He teased, smacking your ass again as he fucked you through your orgasm. And just like last time, the fluttering of your sweet walls triggered yet another orgasm from lo’ak.

“Ah..hah Fuuuck!” He moaned, dumping another huge load into your womb, fucking it into you harshly. You were a whimpering mess, the feeling of his warm seed seeping into your womb made your head spin.

“That’s right, take all of it like a good girl.” He grunted, finally thrusting into you gently. Your eyes crossed in pleasure once more as he pulled out slowly.

He held your hips in place, so that you wouldn’t fall. Your legs were shaking badly, his seed dripping down your thighs slowly.

“Shit. That tight little pussy can’t hold all of daddy’s cum, I guess.” He teased. He flipped you over to face him. Sliding into you again, He shifted your trembling legs over his arms so that the bend of your knee’s were resting gently over the bend of his arms. He picked you up off of the table and began fucking you slow and deep.

“I-I can’t cum again. I-I can’t.” Your voice was gone, so it came out as a strained whisper. He engaged in a sloppy kiss with you as he continued to fuck into you expertly.

“I’ll make you cum again, don’t worry. I told you, I’m not letting up. I’m gonna keep cumming in this pussy.” He whispered against your quivering lips, maintaining a dangerous amount of eye contact.

He began to speed up his pace, squelching sounds filling the hut as you screamed with the little bit of voice you had left. He was hitting all the right spots yet again. “I love you.” He smirked, eyeing your lips before licking his.

“I-I love you too, daddy.” You whined, and as promised, you felt that familiar feeling in your lower abdomen. You couldn’t believe that you were about to cum again. It was like he knew your body better than YOU did.

“Someone’s about to cum again, I can feel it.” He groaned, smiling against your lips before pecking them gently.

“Fuck, I-I can’t stop!” You screamed, head going limp as you let loose for the 4th time tonight. He let out a dark laugh at your pathetic little whining.

“Yeah? I can’t stop either. I’m right behind you.” He teased, fucking you hard and deep. “Mhmm, here it comes again baby. J-Just for you.” He groaned, looking you in your eyes while he came inside of you again, emptying his balls in your womb for a third time.

“Shittt! No more, daddy. P-Please, I can’t take it.” You pleaded, wrapping your trembling arms around his neck. He laughed at you, walking up the steps with you in his hands.

“You must take me for a fucking joke.” He whispered in your ear before laying you down on the cot gently. You knew that meant that he wasn’t done with you. You turned over lazily, trying to crawl away from him. That didn’t work out well for you at all.

He flipped you back over, pulling you down to him. “Need some energy? I think it’s about that time baby.” He titled his head grabbing his queue from behind his back. You looked up at him with hooded eyes, sitting up on your elbows.

You nodded frantically, grabbing your queue as well, giving it to him. You were too tired to do it yourself.

He wasted no time. He had been waiting for this moment for so long, and it was finally here. Your trendils collided with his and your pupils blew. You could feel everything. It was like nothing you’d ever experienced before.

“Damnnn.” He moaned, separating your trembling legs. Sliding into you this time felt different, for both of you. It was so intense that it was hard to describe.

“Ohhh that’s so much better.” He moaned, gripping your waist to bring you down on his cock like a fuck toy. You were a mess yet again, so loud that he was sure that someone heard you at this point.

He rolled his hips into yours, fucking into you nice and slow. Taking his time with you, he didn’t want this feeling to end so quickly. He had to savor it.

“Fuck me deeper…harder. Please.” You cried, spreading your legs wider for him. He clenched his jaw, your pleads making his head spin. He took your legs, and placed them over his shoulder before bending down until you two were sharing the same breath. You were practically folded in half while he fucked into you harder and deeper, just like you asked.

His hands were placed on either sides of your head while his sticky pelvis collided with yours repeatedly. He thought you were loud before…you were hitting high notes for him now.

“That’s it, let it out baby. Give it to me.” He nodded before engaging in yet another sloppy kiss. One that could shut you up completely as he continued his attack on your worn out cunt.

“I love you. I love you so much, y/n.” He spoke against your lips. “I-I love you too!” You moaned, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your walls began to flutter around him again.

“Mmm cum for me, then. One last time, and I’ll stop beating this pussy up, yeah?” He smiled, fucking into your sweetspot quickly. And you let go for the fifth time, squirting on lo’ak again.

“You’ve been such a good girl, tonight.” He moaned, his orgasm just seconds away. “H-Have I?” You asked deliriously.

“Mhmm, and I’ve got a special surprise for good girls like you. Ready?” He groaned, lip between his teeth as he watched your face contorted continuously.

“Yess!” You screamed. His eyebrows scrunched, letting out a guttural moan before emptying his final load into your womb. His eyes rolled back, fucking you through both of your orgasms.

Full was an understatement. You were STUFFED to the fucking brim. So much so that you felt queasy. But a good kind of queasy.

“Now THAT was amazing.” He panted, pulling out of you lazily. Strings of his seed sticking you two together. Once he unhanded you, you curled up into a ball, trembling badly. He gently disconnected his queue from yours before tending to you. Cleaning you up, getting you water, and putting you down for bed. You were knocked out, so sleepy that you were snoring. It was cute honestly.

He was so happy that he finally had you. And that your father allowed him to take care of you from now on.

Your father…. Lo’ak thought.

“NO BABIES YET PLEASE.” Rang through his head, and his eyes widened when he realized….

There was no doubt in his mind that you would be pregnant in a couple of weeks. Even the blind could see that. As many times as he bred you…shit, you might have twins.

He had fucked up…big time….

Taglist: @number1gal @loak-bae @tiredmamaissy @neytirishottie @terrorthewolf @lethargicluv @reyzzsostellar @m0nst3rfk3r @agelsully @jakescumdump @wekiamo @cleardonutangelwagon @tsireqas @satanlovedays @afro-hispwriter @urfavgirlmakenna @fanboyluvr @iameatingmyhair @secretflowerobservation @violet-19999 @xreadersstuff @sweetllamaparadise @lia-nath @sullymenrhot @dotheyevenknowmars @xdbluesky @domino-x3-blog @ladylovegood-69 @itssomeonereading @sweetirilly @j-jinxee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @cumikering @pxndorasdream @itsaleidasworld @atxxokirina @yeletta @eywascall @valeriearriana37484 @avatarsslut @bee782916 @atxxokirina @taylormarieee @sweethoneycn

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ladyofthebears · 1 month

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I am going insane- i want to rip my hair out

Alicent WAS the VICTIM in the show. She was made to marry a much older man whom she did not love who martially raped her and gave her children at age 15-16.

But what EVERYONE seems to be fucking ignore is that fact that Aemma was a victim too. Aemma only had a SUCCESSFUL pregnancy at 15. She was married at fucking 11 and had miscarriages before finally having Rhaenyra four years later. Everyone is always infantilising Alicent and making it seem as though her abusive actions are justified because of her victimhood BUT AEMMA WAS A VICTIM TOO. One could even argue Aemma had it worse then Alicent in many ways though i will not be because both of their pain is unimaginable and fucking valid.

Overall, the parallels between them just further my devastation of Alicents continuing the cycle of abuse. Aemma lost a multitude of children, she was married at age 11, her mother died giving birth to her, she nearly died giving birth to Rhaenyra, yet not once did she ever behave the way Alicent did. Alicent lost her mother, was at her powerful fathers command, and felt so fucking alone and WAS THE VICTIM. Yet, she became the victimiser the day she sharpened her pain to use as a knife against others, ESPECIALLY her children.

In the show, Alicent makes it obvious that she will have the final say on her children’s marriage which MAKES IS SO MUCH MORE INFURIATING to remember she marries her 13 year old daughter and 15 year old son. Makes it so maddening after her “queer customs line”, makes it SO disheartening after her own victimhood just to make her daughter a even MORE severely and painfully wronged victim (again pain should never be compared, i only mention this because objectively Helaena was married younger and gave birth younger. Despite Viserys and his fucking pedo rapist actions, he was never violent w Alicent in the way Aegon is with everyone. And MAY I REMIND YOU, Aegon had not one BUT TWO Bastards born on the silk streets in the same moon as his twins birth?)

Why THE FUCK is Alicent always the victim and justified in her actions and Aemma is just given “oh thats so sad”. Why does it seem like no one else notices the wretched mirrors of each other they are yet, the fandom doesn’t seem to give a flying fuck about Aemma besides to throw her death onto the pile of shitty things Viserys did?

Aemma Arryn deserves so SO much more then what we are giving her.

Aemma Arryn was a queen, and a victim, and through it all a loving mother despite never having one of her own.

Aemma Arryn does not deserve to be forgotten so easily.

#house of the dragon #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #rhaenyra targaryen #dance of the dragons #helaena targaryen #alicent hightower #anti viserys i targaryen #this is not meant to be anti alicent #it is meant to be anti hypocrisy #it is meant to be anti abuser #it is meant to point out how we literally saw the same shit happen and the other cause did not start a war or abuse their children over it #i love alicent #but i cant love her actions #i cant love her abuse #and i cant love her treason #aemma arryn

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rheasesposts · 1 year

Text

stoic

neteyam sully x tsu’tey!daughter!reader

summary : Neteyam doesn’t know if Y/N feels the same.

——————————————————————————

Neteyam and Y/N sat side by side on the hard and cold rock with thighs touching and arms brushing each other’s. Y/N was silent, as usual, as she sharpened her knife that was gifted to her by Mo’at, the Tsahik and Neteyam’s grandmother.

Neteyam gazed at her as she did her own thing and admired the fall of her hair on her shoulder and the fierceness in her face that was never gone. Neteyam has had a crush on her since they were babies basically. The two had been inseparable before and even after Tsu’tey, her adoptive father, died, and Y/N became almost mute, only speaking when needed. Y/N was a stony and lonely warrior, taking after her late father. Neteyam held a special place in her heart since he understood why she wouldn’t talk and especially didn’t force her to.

The duo were also enemies when it came to learning anything, from taming an Ikran to peeling a fruit. Always trying to playfully one up each other for entertainment purposes. If Neteyam was truthful, Y/N won at almost everything the two competed in. Her skill unmatched by any warrior.

Neteyam didn’t know of her feelings, and he knew he certainly would never tell her of his, despite them already acting like a mated couple. So, all Neteyam did was study and watch Y/N as she did everything with flawless precision and a sneering face. From afar, that’s where he stands with her. Abruptly, the two witness Jake come out of his family’s tent and search for someone. His eyes find the two teenagers, and he points to in front of him.

“Y/N! Fall in!” Jake shouted to the young warrior in the mountain cavern. “Neteyam!” The two friendly rivals quickly stood in the Olo’eyktan’s sight with their hands behind their back and heads high. “You two, I need you to scout some Avatars Lo’ak saw about two miles east from here. Watch them, give me intel, but do not attack. Do not.”

“Yes, sir.” Neteyam replied and hoisted his bow onto his Ikran with Y/N doing a similar thing on her own Ikran.

“I trust you two to not be reckless.” Jake frowned, and before Neteyam flew off, Jake pulled Neteyam in for a brief hug. “Be safe, please. Keep an eye on her.”

“I will.” Neteyam promised his father, and his Ikran caught up to Y/N in a minute’s time. Jake stared as his son and the girl he told his dying friend, Tsu’tey, he would keep safe and look after as they became specks in the sky.

“Be quiet.” Y/N mouthed to Neteyam as he accidentally stepped on a branch that crunched too hard for Y/N’s liking. Neteyam nodded and put a hand to Y/N’s lower back as she peered at the 3 Avatars plucking at leaves and laughing. Y/N met Neteyam’s confused stare and shrugged slightly. Unfortunately, one of the Avatars became suspicious of the sound Neteyam’s foot made a few moments before and whipped his head to look for the source.

“It’s probably an animal.” The only girl Avatar spoke and nudged the man with her gun. And the man believed her until he glanced to the tree Y/N and Neteyam sat behind and noticed a blue foot poking out the foliage. Y/N could feel the shift in the atmosphere and sucked in a large breath. She took hold of Neteyam and softly shoved him towards the Ikrans. He got her intention and snuck to their Ikrans as quiet as we could. Y/N followed closely while keeping a watchful eye on the Avatar getting near the tree they had been hiding at.

“Stop worrying, bro.” The other Avatar said and in a moment the Avatar that had suspected something Na’vi was around spotted a dull blue band on a foot escaping the area.

“There!” He yelled and ran to catch the supposed Na’vi to take back to Home Base. Y/N simply picked up speed and attached her queue to her Ikran’s before taking off and readying hee bow, arrow notched tight in the string.

“No, do not attack.” Neteyam huffed out to Y/N, but she didn’t ease the tension of the bow. Only held it in her grip. “We should go.” They didn’t get the chance, the man broke through the clearing and began shooting at her and Neteyam. “Fly!”

Y/N snarled and instructed her Ikran to fly away from the scene hurriedly. Shots rang fast and many were near her head. She heard Neteyam let out a loud grunt, and she whirled to see him being targeted by the other Avatars. Y/N didn’t care for Jake’s orders anymore, this was Neteyam’s life on the line. Her first arrow barreled into the female Avatar, and she dropped dead.

“Bitch!” The man roared and reloaded his gun, but he wasn’t fast enough, Y/N had already marked him for death, an arrow to his chest. The last Avatar redeemed his friends by shooting at Y/N’s Ikran, and the Ikran was hit in the wing causing it to spiral with Y/N remaining calm. Neteyam on the other hand was losing his mind. Her Ikran hit the forest floor with a thud, and Y/N was knocked off, and the Avatar banged his gun to her head, making her fall unconscious. Neteyam landed his Ikran somewhere the last Avatar wouldn’t see and loaded his bow. The man tied Y/N’s hands and legs together. “A pretty thing, huh?”

Neteyam became disgusted and crept around the clearing, trying to find a good spot to shoot this demon. Y/N’s Ikran made calls and groans as it realized its rider was in pain as was itself. Neteyam didn’t see before because he was in the sky, but a bullet was lodged in Y/N’s foot. Probably from her descent.

“Come out, savage!” The Avatar was scared of the other one popping out. Neteyam cursed as he gathered the courage to expose himself to the Avatar. With a war cry, he jumped in the air and shot the Avatar through the heart with his blue and green arrow. The man crumpled, and Neteyam sprinted to Y/N’s fallen body.

“Y/N? Can you hear me?” Neteyam placed his hand on her face. “Y/N.” Her yellow eyes snapped open, and she immediately became feral, thrashing to get of the unknown person’s grip. “Y/N, it’s Neteyam.” She halted her movements and in relief, shut her eyes tight. “Hey, it’s ok. You’re alright.” Y/N began shaking her head as Neteyam cut her restraints. “What is wrong?” He knew about the bullet.

“Help me up.” Y/N muttered faintly. Neteyam hauled Y/N to her one foot and kept an arm around her waist. “Call Jake.”

Neteyam complied and tapped his comm button, “Devil Dog, come in.”

“Yes. Here, what is it? Over.” Jake’s voice imputed into Neteyam’s ear. Y/N gripped Neteyam harder as her foot throbbed painfully.

“Y/N and her Ikran were hit. I need back up, over.” Neteyam noted Y/N’s consistently falling head, most likely from blood loss. “Hey, stay with me, Y/N.”

“We’re on our way. Over.” Jake said, and Neteyam turned off his device to pay all his attention to Y/N.

“They’re coming.” Neteyam sweetly told the girl who was almost limp in his arms. Y/N looked at him with a strange expression he couldn’t explain.

“You are such a baby.” Y/N lightly teased after she recalled Neteyam shrieking once the Avatars shot at him. Neteyam pulled an offended face.

“I was following orders, skxawng.” He pinched her side, and she barely smirked at him.

“What a good little soldier.” Y/N sneered comically, and Neteyam scoffed and held her tighter. Usually Neteyam would hate someone calling him that, but from her, it was acceptable. “You are suffocating me.”

“Good.” Neteyam hummed, and Y/N humorously and delicately bit his shoulder. “You are a tiny demon.”

Y/N kissed it right after and Neteyam felt butterflies at the sensation of her lips on his skin. “Really?” She peered up at him through her eyelashes, and Neteyam blushed at her unmoving stare.

“Yes.” He stuttered out. This stoic warrior is making him flustered so easily. Suddenly, an Ikran swooped down to the two of them, and Neteyam found it was his Father with his mother on the ground a second later. Jake glanced at the dead bodies and grimaced. “Sorry, sir. We broke protocol.”

Jake shook his head and arrived at Y/N’s side and propped up her feet on his knee. “What happened?” Neytiri handed Jake the antiseptic and bandage then walked to Y/N’s Ikran to patch it up as well.

“They started shooting at us.” Neteyam explained, and he observed Y/N digging her nails into her palm as Jake poured alcohol in her wound. “Y/N killed two of them before the last one shot her Ikran.” Neteyam brushed Y/N’s back in comfort as his father wrapped Y/N’s foot.

“Are you hurt?” Neytiri bellowed to her son.

“No, mother.” Neteyam called back.

Y/N’s breath hitched as Jake tied the bandage off and it tugged at the sensitive skin. “Let’s get you home.” Jake patted Y/N’s head warmly, and Neteyam led her to his Ikran. Neteyam mounted the Ikran before Jake helped Y/N onto the beast, in front of Neteyam. Neytiri and Jake were going to lead Y/N’s Ikran back. “See you at Camp.”

Y/N’s body weight was on Neteyam’s chest, but he didn’t mind. He loved when she let her guard down and showed minimal affection. One of his arms was holding her to him and the other was holding the saddle/reigns of his Ikran.

“How are you feeling?” Neteyam asked the girl who curled up into his arms to fall asleep after they visited Mo’at to check her wound, and has now awoken. Y/N just snuggled her face into his neck. “Y/N, come on.”

“I am fine, Neteyam.”

“Thank you.” Neteyam sighed, and Y/N sat up abruptly to hang over him. “Hm?”

Y/N didn’t respond to his suggestive hum, and took his face into her hands. Neteyam’s heart stopped, and he didn’t breathe. What was she doing? Y/N proceeded to straddle his torso and rest her legs on either side of his hips. A finger traced his jawline, and he didn’t dare move.

“Why does your heart beat so fast?”

“I am, uh, embarrassed.” Neteyam questioningly offered. Y/N’s fangs popped out as she beamed and ran her hands to settle on his chest.

“Why? Huh?” Y/N tilted her head, and Neteyam thought she was too pretty.

“Because you’re gorgeous.” He admitted gently, and she flickered her gaze to his agape lips before leaning down and kissing his cheek. Then his other one. Neteyam groaned in anticipation, “Just kiss me.”

“Is the great Neteyam begging?” Y/N tutted against his cheek, and Neteyam could feel her words fan over his face. Her lips hovered over his before she crashed them down into his. Neteyam’s hands were instantly on her waist and squeezing as she worked their mouths in sync. Y/N slipped her hands up to his neck.

A clear of the throat caused the two to separate lips and look like deer in headlights as Jake stood at the entrance with an awkward look.

“So, how long?” Jake pointed at them.

“Just now.” Neteyam assured quickly, and Y/N stayed in her place on top of him, not at all ashamed.

“Your father is glaring at me, I can tell.” Jake huffed, and Y/N gave him a tiny smile and cocooned back into Neteyam. “Don’t make any babies.” Jake whistled before legging out.

“Dad!” Neteyam shouted as Y/N silently chuckled and peppered his chest with kisses.

#jake sully #neteyam #neytiri #avatar #avatar x reader #kiri sully #loak sully #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #sully family #tuk sully #jake sully x y/n #neytiri x reader #sully family x reader

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stell404 · 1 year

Text

𝗜𝗜𝗜. 𝗙𝗔𝗠𝗜𝗟𝗬 𝗝𝗘𝗪𝗘𝗟𝗦

𝗢𝗨𝗧 𝗖𝗢𝗠𝗘 𝗙𝗟𝗬𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗔𝗟𝗟 𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗦𝗘𝗖𝗥𝗘𝗧𝗦 𝗢𝗙 𝗣𝗔𝗡𝗗𝗢𝗥𝗔'𝗦 𝗕𝗢𝗫

🎧

Family jewels masterlist | back to navigation Parings: Sully family x reader, jake sully x daughter!reader Word count: 900 Notes: Hope ya'll like this, next chapter wont be out for a while because I'm gonna be very very busy, so so sorry. And to explain the title: "Out come flying all the secrets of Pandora's box" means that their secrets are out, the people know they are not the perfect family they always show. Taglist: @lorre-verie @eywas-heir @damiiworld @arianapjs @arminsgfloll @buterccup @ifuckinghatemathrahhhhhh @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @inluvwithneteyam @il0vejj @neteyamforlife @ducks118 @ssc7514@liyahsocorro @saltedcoffeescotch @im-in-a-pansexual-panik WARNINGS: Mentions de@th, scuic!de

🎧

Weeks have passed since their escapade and things have cooled down, they are still not back to normal but hey, this is something I guess.

[Name] finally, after nights and nights of debates with the little voices in her head, went on with her plan—her plan to tell her father about her dream to do her Iknimaya.

The night was calm, leaves and the hanging vines from the hallelujah mountains swayed softly with the wind. Calm chirping noise can be heard lightly. The clan was putting things away for the night, hunters and warriors finally resting, healers making their way out of the healer's tent. It is strange for the Omaticaya to have calm nights like this, hopefully it will last long.

[Name] walked around High camp looking for her father, she noticed how things were calm hoping not to ruin it with what she's gonna do. She quickly found her father sitting down and a stump of rock, sharpening his hunting knife.

[Name] stood in front of her dad, clearing her throat to get her fathers attention.

"What do you need?" Jake asked with an un-enthusiastic tone, dropping the knife he was sharpening.

"I was just wondering, you know, I mean—I'm kinda getting old now and like, don't you think, I mean I don't know but..." she rambled, trailing off and mumbling at the end.

"[Name]," he sighed, "get to the point."

"I want to do my Iknimaya, as soon as possible." she said, hoping her father would agree.

Silence. Silence filled the space between them.

A beat passed.

And then another one.

"No." Jake said, breaking the silence.

"Why?" There it was. Always, why? why? why?

"Because," he paused. He himself does not know the answer, was it because he is worried, because he wants to shield her from everything bad? Or was it because he doesn't trust her? Why?

"Because you are not mature enough." he said, finally finding the "right" words.

"Lo'ak is younger than me and much more immature and still he got his Iknimaya first."

"Your brother is ready, he is strong."

"And I'm not? Please, I am on top of my training. I've beaten the strongest of warriors so tell me, is that not good enough?"

"See! This is the reason, you are being immature right now!" Jake shouted, anger tainted his voice, attracting the attention of the people as they heard their Olo'eyktan and his first daughter fighting.

Neytiri heard their quarrel from afar, she ran straight to them to try and stop them.

"[Name], stop it." her mother warned, holding her wrist.

"And to answer your question, no, that is not good enough." Jake added, gasps can be heard from the crowd that formed around them. [Name] felt her heart break at this.

"Nothing I do is never good enough." she mumbled.

Jake didn't know what happened but he snapped, he didn't know why but he did, "Get out, get out! I do not want to see you right now!" he shouted.

"Do you ever want to see me, dad—oh sorry, I mean—sir?" she said in a mocking tone.

"You think you're so wise, huh?" he chuckled.

"Well if you're such an amazing mighty warrior, go do it, go! Complete your Iknimaya." he shouted, voice laced with venom. "Kill yourself for all I care!"

[Name] was stunned, "Sir, please—" she spoke with a shaky voice, She was scared, scared of her father. The one who was supposed to shield her from men who treated her like this. The one who was supposed to love her more than anything.

"No, no, no. Don't 'Sir' Me. You do what you want right? You're responsible right? You're smart. You're strong, oh so STRONG!" he laughed.

"Jake! It is the middle of the night, are you crazy? She might die, she will die." her mother hissed.

"Then let her die. She believes she is so strong, she believes she can do it, she wants to do it, so why stop her?" Jake chuckled once more, this time his voice was filled with venom. She did want this, hell, she wants it more than anything, but she didn't want it to be like...this.

[Name] couldn't process what was happening, she knew her father hates her, she knew that she was one of her fathers greatest regrets, but to let her die? She felt like a thousand bullets were shot straight to her heart.

"I hate you!" she screeched. She did not mean it, of course she didn't, she loves her dad, more than she will ever love herself.

But does he love her? "Yeah? Then go! Go and never come back!" he shouted back.

"Jake!" Neytiri hissed, the grip she has on her daughter's wrist loosens. [Name] noticed this, taking advantage of it and pushing her mother aside so she could run.

"[Name]! [Name]! come back!" she heard her siblings shout out to her, voices quivering; but she did not care, she just wanted to get away.

She ran and ran, as fast as she could, with no particular location in mind. Just running through the woods, the tall grass, the bioluminescent plants of the Pandorian Forest.

She found herself laying on the soft grass. Her eyes were blurry, tears running down her face, letting out whimpers and sobs ever so slightly.

She cried and cried until there were no more tears left in her.

#jake sully x reader #jake sully x daughter!reader #sully family x reader #dad!jake sully #jake sully x daughter #neytiri x daughter!reader #neteyam x sister!reader #neteyam x reader #loak x reader #lo'ak x sister!reader #lo'ak x reader #kiri x reader #kiri x sister!reader #avatar x reader #avatar: way of water #atwow #avatar the way of water #avatar 2 #DearStell

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kirislovelygf · 9 months

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tsireya x fem!sully!reader pls pls pls?? 🥹🥹 y/n is lo’ak’s twin and she likes tsireya a lot but she thinks tsireya likes lo’ak so she starts skipping lessons to avoid her, only to find out she was wrong the whole time because one day after training lo’ak storms into the marui pod all mad and when y/n asks what’s wrong he’s like “i told tsireya i like her but she turned me down because she likes you” but y/n just doesn’t believe him until the next day tsireya comes up to her and asks to talk in private and you can make it up from there!! 🤍🤍

sunsetz (tsireya x omaticayan fem! reader)

contents: confessions, crushing, hugs, lumity reference at the end, lo’ak and y/n are twins, good ole wlw happiness.

wrd count: 1.8k

a/n: ty to whoever submitted this prompt and i’m so so so sorry it took so long!! i feel so bad! i hope this makes up for it. enjoy! :)

when y/n’s family arrived here in awa’atlu, it took her a while to adjust. but she eventually became happy here.

after the war, and neteyam’s recovery, she was already growing closer with the reef kids.

especially tsireya. y/n had fallen hard for her.

tsireya was kind, graceful, smart, generous, and beautiful. y/n could think of hundreds of terms to describe her.

everyone knew about her painfully obvious crush except for her twin lo’ak and tsireya.

only because they were too focused on each other.

to tsireya, she thinks she found a new best friend.

to lo’ak? a crush as big as y/n’s.

the only thing that was stopping y/n from asking her out was because of her twin.

she thought they were obsessed with each other from looking at how much time they spend together when they’re in a group.

she had mistook tsireya’s friendship with lo’ak as a crush and was afraid that if she tried anything, she’d humiliate herself.

or ruin the friendship with tsireya and then her relationship with her best friend from birth.

for the past couple weeks, the kids have been taking underwater hunting lessons with tsireya, au’nung, and rotxo, but y/n’s been skipping them.

her crush was stronger than ever and she couldn’t go through another lesson where lo’ak was flirting with the girl she loved.

today was the third lesson she skipped.

she was sitting on the edge of her family’s marui while looking down at the water, one knee propped up to hold her head.

neytiri was behind her organizing her things, or sharpening a knife, something that y/n couldn’t really care less about.

“why aren’t you out there?” neytiri asks her.

“you should be learning how to hunt.”

“i have a headache. i don’t feel like swimming right now.” y/n responded in a low tone.

“hmph. next week, i better see you out there with everyone else.” neytiri said.

“yes, mama.” y/n muttered. neytiri sighs looking at her daughter's sad demeanor and decides to leave her alone.

“uhm.. i need to gather some fruits for later. i’ll be back before eclipse. your father should be back soon, so you won't be alone for long.” she said as she stood up.

“okay, mama. see you later.” y/n mutters. she turns slightly to smile at her but quickly looks back at the water.

neytiri watched her for a moment before grabbing her basket and leaving the marui.

a little while later, jake comes back from a meeting with tonowari and they sit together, organizing some of his tools.

“whoa, can i have this one?” she asked her father while holding up a knife that was made from sea glass.

“what’s wrong with the one you have?” he asks.

“nothing, i just want this one.” she shrugs. he chuckles and nods, “fine, keep it.”

she smiles and gets up to put it away in her corner of the marui.

“hey, dad. where’s y/n?” lo’ak said from the other side of the marui.

“uh, she’s in her room.” jake answered.

y/n gets up and watches as lo’ak storms into her corner, throwing the divider that acted as a door aside.

“hey! what’s your problem? i coulda been naked.” she grumbled.

“but you’re not. sit down, we gotta talk.” he said quickly.

she rolls her eyes but they both sit down together.

“what?” she asks.

“why have you been avoiding tsireya?” he asks.

her mouth suddenly went dry. could he know? he must be mad with how he entered her room. “uh..”

he rolls his eyes. “just tell me. i probably already know the answer.”

“i.. wh- uh, why do you think i’ve been avoiding her?” she asks hesitantly.

“because you like her. no, not even. you love her.” he said bluntly.

“bro, what the hell are you talking about? you don’t know that.”

neteyam was walking past the room and heard her ask when he said, “how could anyone NOT know that?”

“go away, ‘teyam!”

“bro, go away!” the twins yelled. they rolled their eyes at neteyam’s snickering and didn’t continue until they heard his footsteps walk away from the room.

“look, i went to tsireya earlier because i had a crush on her too. i decided i was gonna tell her today, so i did.” he admitted.

y/n’s expression softened with sadness. “oh..”

“but she told me she didn’t like me. because she’s already in love with you.”

“what? no, she isn’t-“

“come on, would i lie to you? i’m serious, she’s crazy about you.” he said in an irritated tone.

“okay.. and you’re mad at me cause she likes me and not you?” she asked him hesitantly.

he scoffed. “no! dude, i’m mad because you’ve been a bitch about it and you haven’t spoken to her in weeks! she thinks you hate her.”

“i haven’t been mean to her-“

“no, dummy. bitch like wimpy, scaredy cat, a pussy. but you’ve been mean to her too, so that applies too.” he nodded. y/n glared at her brother before he continued.

“i tried my best to convince her you don’t hate her but she still thinks you and her have a zero chance of happening. so you have to let her know you’re obsessed with her.” he poked her knee and she swatted his hand.

“i’m not obsessed with her, lo’ak. i swear, if you told her i am-“

he chuckled. “i didn’t. i didn’t even know you liked her until today. i was too focused on tsireya to notice.” he shrugs.

y/n sighs and her hands drag down her face with she groaned in frustration.

“look, i know we fight a lot and stuff. but you’re my best friend.” lo’ak started softly.

y/n looks up at him. lo’ak looks down at his hands, fidgeting with his fingers and not making eye contact.

“i care about you. i guess if tsireya doesn’t wanna be with me, i’d rather her be happy with you. cause i know you’ll treat each other right.” he continued, slightly stumbling over a few words.

y/n looks up at her brother and smiled. “thanks, lo’ak.” she holds his hands that were folded together. he unfolds them and holds hers in his one hand.

y/n sighs. “okay. i’ll tell her..”

“yes! good.”

“tomorrow.”

“no! go, now! like, now, now! come on.” he grabs her wrist and picks her up from the floor but y/n stops him.

“no, lo’ak!”

he looks back at her. “what? if you ignore her any longer, she’s gonna lose interest.”

“it’s almost eclipse, anyways. dad’s not gonna let us out.” she told him, literally reaching for any excuse.

it was just a coincidence that the eclipse was in a couple minutes.

“oh.” he mumbled. “yeah, that’s a problem.” they stand by the entrance of the room and figure out what to do.

“okay. tomorrow, we will find some flowers, make a bouquet, you’ll go to her dad-“

“her dad?! why would i go to him? he’s gonna stab me with his big-ass spear!” y/n said.

“not if you’re nice. and then you’ll be all like ‘i’d like to take your daughter out on a date.’ and he’ll be like ‘oh my god, you’re so sweet, of course.’ and then ronal-“

“hell. no. ronal will literally make sure i never see my family again.” she says, shaking her head.

“don’t be dramatic.” lo’ak laughs and suddenly, they hear voices in the main room of the marui.

y/n and lo’ak quickly shut up to hear who it was.

“i was wondering if i could talk to y/n for a moment. it’s important.”

y/n and lo’ak look at each other with wide eyes and started whispering to each other.

“what the hell do i do?”

“go out there!”

“no, i look like a mess! you go and ask what she wants and then-”

“oh my- just go!” he shoved y/n out of her own room and her heart was beating what felt like a million times per minute.

“y/n. your friend, tsireya’s here to see you.” jake called out.

“coming!” she responded, her voice cracking.

she could hear lo’ak’s quiet laugh from her room and rolled her eyes.

she meets up with tsireya and they agree to take a walk. jake asked her to be back not too late since eclipse was soon.

the girls walked away from the village, down the beach, just talking about bland topics, avoiding the topic they actually needed to be discussing.

“uhm.. so i wanted to ask you something.” tsireya said. she stood to face y/n.

“okay.” y/n says worriedly.

“so.. i was speaking to lo’ak earlier and i was asking him about you.”

“okay..”

“i can’t help but think you don’t like me. or you hate me. i haven’t seen you in weeks and every time i try to look for you, you’re busy with something else.”

y/n suddenly realized how shitty that was of her and felt a wave of embarrassment.

her hands covered her face as she chuckled lightly. “oh, god- i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, no wonder you think i hate you.”

tsireya gently takes her hands away from her face with a soft smile. “so, you don’t hate me?”

“no, of course not. i could never hate you. you’re so amazing and nice and pretty. i mean, i’ve liked you since we got here and you showed me around the village and you were just super nice.”

“you think i’m pretty?” tsireya interrupted. hints of pink flooded her cheeks.

“uh.. yeah.” y/n said quietly.

tsireya blushed even harder and looked down.

“i really thought you despised me and the whole time you just..” she laughs out softly.

“i’m really sorry, tsireya. i actually really like you. you’re the kindest and more generous and considerate girl i’ve ever met and uh..”

tsireya watches y/n’s expression, waiting to hear her ask the question she’s been waiting for ever since y/n arrived.

“i uhm.. will-“

“will you go out with me?” tsireya interrupted.

she quickly slapped her hand over her mouth as she watched y/n’s face. she was ready to ask tsireya already.

y/n sighs out before tsireya laughs out.

“i’m sorry!”

“i was so ready to say it! ugh, tsireya…”

“i’m sorry! i’m sorry, i’ll let you say it..” tsireya smiled.

y/n chuckled lightly. “tsireya.. will you go out with me?”

tsireya squeals in excitement before hugging y/n, throwing her arms around her neck.

y/n laughs out and spins her around, holding her tight in her arms.

she puts her down, her hands still on tsireya’s waist. tsireya had her hands on the back of y/n’s neck and they were inches apart from each other.

they would have kissed and had a nice, happy, sapphic ending, but the author is single and sad and will not be made jealous of by two fictional characters.

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emmie-tt · 1 year

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Never Comin" Home Pt.3

past!Neytiri x reader - Ronal x reader

Description: After a rough day you find out your kids have been causing mischeif with the Sully kids leading to you having to take over their training as well

WARNINGS: none...

Y/N POV

As Ronal finishes dinner for the night the kids run in arguing, a sigh falls from my lips as I try and prepare myself for whatever it is they are disagreeing about. I set the knife I was sharpening down and look at them "and whats the issue?"

Ronal sets the food down on our small table while Ao'nung starts "Tsireya has a crush on the forest boy and-" he's cut off by Tsireya smacking the back of his head "I do not!"

I clench my jaw but patiently wait for their bickering to stop, after a few minutes and a stressed out look from my mate I stand up "enough! speak one at a time. Tsireya, you first"

Ao'nung rolls his eyes but stops talking as Tsireya looks at me "I was just talking with Lo'ak after our lessons and Ao'nung came over and started making fun of him. After a while of them arguing back and forth Lo'ak punched him-"

Ronal quickly cuts her off "i'm sorry what?"

I sigh and walk over resting my hand on her back "let her finish my love"

Tsireya huffs but continues "He punched him because he kept calling Kiri a freak and was also making fun of him!"

My gaze shifts from my daughter to my son who's standing there staring at the ground "that true?'

He mumbles a quiet yes while avoiding eye contact, I pinch the bridge of my nose while Ronal shakes her head while getting some pastes to help his bruises

I look at Tsireya and nod with a small smile on my face, she smiles back and sits down to start eating

After Ao'nung finishes getting his bruises helped he walks over and takes his spot at the table next to me and across from Tsireya who sits next to Ronal

I say without looking up from the table "I'll help your sister train them" I shake my head when I hear Ao'nung let out a small "thank Eywa"

I look at him "but your apologizing-" he groans making me shake my head "your apologizing, there is no reason to disrespect them."

He scoffs and looks at me "why are you so adamant on protecting them? they are freaks! they have five fingers dad! demon blood runs through their veins!"

Ronal smacks the table "ao'nung! enough!"

He shakes his head and looks at her "no! and you- what's up with you hm? you trail behind dad like a baby- like someones gonna take them from you! since they've shown up you've both been acting so weird!"

She stares at Ao'nung shocked, he's never disrespected her let alone yelled at her

Tsireya watches with wide eyes as Ronal stands up and storms off to our room

I sigh and speak up "I know them...Obviously-" i gesture to my body that's the same shade of blue as the Sully's "I'm Omatikaya"

Ao'nung scoffs sitting back in his chair while crossing his arms "so what? some old friends of yours show up from the past and mom is just insecure"

I snap "enough! do not disrespect my mate like that do you understand?"

He stares at me shocked for a second before slowly nodding "sorry..."

I huff nodding and continue on with what I was saying "they weren't just friends...well Neytiri wasnt.." Both of my kids watch me confused "Before Jake showed up me an- me and Neytiri were in a relationship..we were together four years before he showed up, she fell in love with him...and I caught them together so I broke up with her and that's when I came here and met your mom" I smile at the memory of meeting Ronal for the first time

Tsireya stares at me for a second "so...that's why mom is acting weird?"

I nod setting my hand on Ao'nungs shoulder "yup..and you mister have to now not only apologize to the Sully's but also to your mother"

He sighs but nods and starts eating

-TIME SKIP NEXT DAY-

Y/N POV

I wake up early that morning and roll over to wrap my arms around Ronal just to find her spot cold, my eyes snap open and I sit up looking around to see our room empty

I stand up stretching and walk out and to the main area of our mauri, I walk up behind her wrapping my arms around her waist and resting my hands on her stomach "good morning ma'yawne"

A frown overtakes my face when she moves out of my arms and mumbles out a "goodmorning"

"you okay..?" she nods and grabs her small bag and leaves after kissing my cheek

I watch her confused but get dressed anyways and head to the Sully's mauri

When I walk in everyone looks over at me, Neytiri nudges the boys who stand up and walk over to me with bowed heads

Lo'ak starts "i'm sorry for starting a fight with your son"

Neteyam nods and continues "it wont happen again we promise"

That's when I realize they think i'm here to get onto them about the fight with Ao'nung, another realization comes over me that my son didn't come apologize last night like I told him to.

I look between both of the very nervous boys "did Ao'nung not come and apologize last night?"

They look at each other and then their parents, Jake stands up and walks over to me "he didn't...but my son was the one who started the fight. he should be the one to apologize"

I shake my head no with a small chuckle "no..he deserved it. he had no right calling your kids freaks"

Jake stares at me confused "wait...why are you here?"

"I'm going to be helping my daughter with the lesson's so I came to get them"

He lets out a sigh of relief and nods "okay...all four of you- off you go"

I smile at the kids and start walking to the beach smiling as the kids talk amongst themselves

-DURING LESSON-

I watch as the kids play around with eachother and Tsireya, the oldest...Neteyam? more like Neytiri made over. I've noticed how almost everything he does and says reminds me of her.

Kiri..there is something about her that's special..sweet kid, that's what she is...grumpy, but sweet

Lo'ak? Nah Jake Jr. I may have only known Jake for 3 months but I was very close to him in those months and I can confidently say that he is Jake made over. Nothing wrong with that..I guess...

And little Tuk..the sweetest little girl i've ever met. Definitely remind's me of Neytiri when we were younger. I smile as Tsireya takes her on a ride on her Ilu.

I feel someone sit down next to me and I look over to see Ronal, she lays her head on my shoulder while letting out a deep sigh

I smile and wrap my arm around her "you okay?" she nods closing her eyes

I kiss the top of her head and go back to watching the kids, the kids i've know for an hour but have somehow made themselves a place in my heart...yeah...those kids are special...

TAGS

@fanboyluvr @lemonmoonmochi @dhzjnzi @audigay @arminsgfloll @khaleesihavilliard @kodzukenwhore @perfectprofessorloverapricot @thefandomswhre @my-skeleton-hats @insanitycrimes @shadowmoonlight0604 @zatarias-pandora @cleverzonkwombatsludge @milf-lover-23 @danielyharstom @lovekeeho @thispussyshouldcomew @kiriswifejayden @sovereignsylvia @ssc7514 @danielyharstom @tejas-kris @ducks118 @tsireyak @ilovejakesullysdick @destinylb @drunkscientists @neteyamforlife @yoongicookies @1ntefly

#ronal imagine #ronal x you #ronal x reader #ronal #neytiri angst #neytiri x reader #neytiri imagine #neytiri sully #avatar fic #avatar x reader #avatar imagine #avatar way of water #avatar #emmie tt

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sillypiratelife · 4 months

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Funny / dramatic moments between fake prince!Zoro and his equally fake royal advisor!Robin:

She doesn't advise him for shit.

What actually happens is that Robin sits to read under the shade of some pretty tree while Zoro trains (shirt on to cover his scars) nearby and they discuss their thoughts on what could be going on in the kingdom.

From afar everyone thinks they are gossiping (typical of young royals), but everyone who's near enough to listen is incredibly impressed and intimidated.

This is the trip where Robin realized that Zoro barely knows how to read and decided to do something about it.

Aka Robin learns a lot about swordsmanship from the books she picked for Zoro and Zoro includes reading in his training regimen.

Zoro baits at least half a dozen people into asking Robin for "a hand". She responds by making a third hand appear out of nowhere. Every. Single. Time.

Robin is fascinated by the amount of lies that Ussop can tell about his fake childhood as the Prince's best friend. She has the memorized just in case, but it's still entertaining to see Ussop struggle.

And also very entertaining to tease Zoro with those stories. Peak royal advisor behavior.

Robin and Zoro are absolutely bullying those old men. They pass judgemental looks during their (meant as practice) court sessions that have the (very very real) captain of the royal holding his laughter.

EKRJKFJDKDK RESTING BITCH FACES not really but those people swear the smirk and relaxed behavior means Zoro and Robin are planning to murder them. No one knows if they are being sarcastic.

When they finally leave the King laments long and loud that his court sessions will never be as funny as they were with Robin and Zoro around.

They're like three different times when Robin covers Zoro with something-turned-blanket while he naps, including one time when Zoro raised his cape and invited Robin to rest her head on his shoulder and take a nap with him.

Robin is the first to notice that a) the captain of the royal guard is the real prince and b) the dude has a crush on Zoro.

She's also the only person who notices that Zoro is in love with Sanji and that Sanji is starting to realize he's not jealous of Zoro for getting to play prince, but uncomfortable at how much it makes Sanji see a different side of Zoro that he might like. A lot.

Which means that every comment she makes is undecipherable to Zoro, but means to help him realize his, uh, situation.

The local cook thinks that Robin and Zoro are together and that Chopper is their son.

Zoro chokes on wine and Robin laughs when they hear the old cook calling someone a homewrecker in the middle of dinner.

Sanji and the real prince go red in a second, which is funny on its own right.

When the fire breaks out in the castle, Zoro is the one that saved the book Robin said she really needed for her research. The way he captured the culprit was by jumping from the library window and landing on the guy.

There's a moment when they almost go on demon mode after they find the basement full of chained children in the abandoned castle. It's only almost because the children awoke when they approached and both acted all light to not scare them.

The kids get eldest daughter!Robin and oldest brother!Zoro instead. They end up with their white suits all covered in mud + blood, but there's definitely something to see them walk in through the main gates carrying so many children, soft expressions and relief on their faces.

The glint they have on their eyes when Zoro asks about the story of that castle is enough to send the castle personnel on their knees. It's only when it's revealed that the king of that particular "castle" died a few weeks ago that Zoro and Robin turn back and everyone breathes again.

Somehow they develop a kinda dry(?) sense of humor that they share mostly with smirks and the most mysterious comments ever.

Robin takes on calling Zoro "your highness" from time to time.

Zoro takes on cleaning and sharpening Robin's knife from them on.

#shan blogs about one piece!#roronoa zoro #nico robin #black leg sanji #zosan #sillypiratelife aus #fake prince!zoro

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ohsalome · 5 months

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Not long ago I finished reading @TimothyDSnyder's book "Bloodlands. Europe between Hitler and Stalin".

I wanted to share some quotes from the chapter on the Holodomor that struck me personally the most. It is difficult to imagine what was happening then. A small but heavy thread:

The peasants who were slowly dying of starvation were believed to be saboteurs who were actually playing into the hands of the capitalist powers who wanted to discredit the Soviet Union. Hunger is resistance, and resistance is a sign of the imminent victory of socialism.

Forced to pass off their swollen bellies as a manifestation of political opposition, they came to the conclusion that the saboteurs hated socialism so much that they deliberately brought their families to starvation.

On 22 January 1933, Balytsky warned Moscow that peasants were fleeing the republic, and Stalin and Molotov ordered law enforcement agencies to stop the flow of people. The next day, the sale of long-distance railway tickets to peasants was banned.

The Ukrainian musician Yosyp Panasenko was sent with a group of bandura players to the countryside to bring culture to the starving peasants. Having taken away the last piece of bread from the peasants, the authorities had a grotesque intention to raise the mood and spirit of the deathly hungry people. The musicians found completely empty villages.

Children born in the Soviet Union in the late 1920s and early 1930s found themselves in a world of death, surrounded by helpless parents and a hostile government. The average life expectancy for a boy born in 1933 was seven years.

One father in the Vinnytsia region came to the cemetery to bury two of his children, and when he returned, he saw that another child had died. Some parents locked their children in the house to save them from cannibals.

Parents gave their children to distant relatives or strangers, left them at railway stations. Desperate peasants who held their babies through the windows of the wagons did not necessarily beg for bread: very often they wanted to give their children away, to strangers who lived in cities and did not suffer from hunger.

Countless parents killed and ate their own children and then died of hunger anyway. One mother boiled her son for food for herself and her daughter. A six-year-old girl rescued by relatives last saw her father sharpening a knife to stab her.

The children's stomachs were swollen, their whole bodies were covered in wounds, scabs, and abscesses. We took them, laid them on the sheets, and they were moaning. One day, the children suddenly stopped talking, and we looked at them and saw that they were eating the youngest one, Petrus. They were pulling off his scabs and eating them. And Petrus was doing the same thing - pulling off his scabs and eating them, eating as much as he could. Other children were sucking blood from their own wounds. We pulled the children away from this activity and cried.

There came a time when there was virtually no grain left in Ukraine, and human meat was the only type of meat.

One Komsomol member in the Kharkiv region reported to his superiors that he could only meet the meat supply plan at the expense of human beings.

More than one Ukrainian child has told a brother or sister: "Mum said we should eat her if she dies". This tragic solution was found by love and care

#ukraine #ukrainian history #holodomor #genocide #ussr #communism #soviet history #joseph stalin

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blue-slxt · 10 months

Text

Smart Mouth

*Request: If you are still taking requests, here's one! Reader is Ao'nung's meaner twin sister, maybe she's known for being an amazing warrior and hunter. But Lo'ak knows it's a front, because with him you aren't like that, he knows how submissive you truly are, especially when he has you under him.*

I have no clue how this turned out this long lmao I kinda just rolled with it. But I love this kind of trope. So I hope you enjoy this one. All characters are aged up.

🔞Minors Do Not Interact🔞

Smut under the cut

The talk amongst the clan about you seems to never cease. For one reason or another, your name was always on the tongues of other people. Many praised your strength. Able to stare down some of the most feared creatures in the wild without so much as blinking. You never backed down from a fight. In some respects, that was admirable. But it hurt the egos of the males in your clan when you would best them in a sparring match. Swinging them and tossing them to the ground with ease and grace.

This led to the talk amongst the people about how difficult it would be for you to find a mate. What kind of man wants a woman who could and would best him? Some looked down on you for it. Others had pity on you feeling that your beauty and status as the daughter of the chief was going to waste. As far as you were concerned, there were plenty of fine men your age in the clan that were plenty strong, but they simply lacked the nerve it took to break your spirit. If someone stepped up to the challenge, you would be more than willing to give him a chance, but no one ever did.

“I mean seriously, am I really so scary?” you would ask exasperated and frustrated beyond belief.

“Of course, you are.” Ao’nung would say without missing a beat while sharpening his knife next to you.

He flinches when your quickly smack him upside the head. Most of the time, the two of you were perfectly in sync, but on occasion, he could annoy you like no other. The pros and cons of being twins.

…

At dinner, your parents force you and your siblings to sit with the Sully kids in an effort to make you all get along. This had carried on for weeks now. Progress was slow going, but it was there, nonetheless. Tsireya took an instant liking to them which was perfectly in line with her personality. She could find the joy and love in any situation. You and Ao’nung were more reserved, though. Always have been. Seeking comfort in each other rather than connections with other people. But over time, the two of you would join in the conversation from time to time.

The Sully kids weren’t necessarily bad, but they weren’t made for reef life and trying to teach them your ways was tedious and irritating. The one who got on your nerves the worst? Lo’ak. He was the only one that gave you trouble with a never-ending string of back talk. He knew how to grind your gears and he did it all with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face.

“Your diving has gotten better lately.” Tsireya beams at them. But you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Do not lie to them Reya. Your forms are still sloppy. It is a wonder how one of you has not been washed away by the current yet.”

She bumps your shoulder and you just shrug as you were simply stating a fact.

“What? It is true. If it weren’t for us being there and keeping an eye on all of them, they wouldn’t last 2 seconds out there.” You say the last part while looking directly at Lo’ak. The rest of his siblings look annoyed or dejected, but he just turns his nose up at you with that same damn grin. “Is that really what you think?”

You narrow your eyes at him in a silent challenge, but he just cocks his eyebrow at you. You stand from your spot, “Whatever, I’m over this conversation. I’m going for a walk.”

Ao’nung and Tsireya give each other a questioning look watching you leave. It was unlike you. Normally, you never shut up in an argument. What was different about tonight?

You’re about 10 minutes into your walk on the beach when you stop to lean against a large rock on the shore. You just stand there and listen to the waves crashing against the sand.

“You do not seem to be doing much walking to me.”

There’s that voice. “What do you want, Lo’ak?”

“Well, as far as everybody else knows, I came to check on you and make sure you’re okay.” He saunters over towards you until his chest just barely brushes against yours when you breathe.

“So why are you actually here?” annoyance laced your voice and he just laughs lowly to himself.

Suddenly, his hand finds your jaw holding it firm and making you look up at him. “Because, clearly, we need to do something about this smart-ass mouth of yours.”

You do your best to hold his gaze, but it gets hard to focus with the heat pooling in your body. “If you wanted my attention, all you had to do was say so.” He speaks while pressing his body closer to you and essentially trapping you between him and the boulder. “Or maybe you want more than just my attention?”

You want to squeeze your thighs together to relieve some of the building pressure, but his body is too close. Your body squirms under him, but it just makes him hold you tighter. “Say it, tíyawn.” His fingertips tease at the strings on your hips holding up your loincloth. Your body is growing hungry and desperate.

“I want it.”

His hands hold your hips and turn you around to face the rock. One hand massages and gropes at your breasts while the other dips under the front of your loincloth and teasingly flicks at your clit.

“I don’t know. I’m not really convinced yet.”

“Lo’ak…” his name leaves your mouth more as a whine than a warning.

“Use your words, baby. You had so much to say earlier.” His fingers rub light circles around your clit without any real pressure behind them. “Be good for me and I’ll let you cum.” For just a second, his fingers press into your clit and your knees buckle. Your mind is growing hazy from the teases of satisfaction he gives you.

“Please, Lo’ak. Please fuck me. I’m sorry. I’ll be good, I promise!”

You can feel his lips ghosting over the skin of your neck, “There’s my good girl.” His lips kiss up the length of the back of your neck while his fingers on your clit finally give you that pressure you craved.

He loved this game you played. On the outside, so tough and proud. No one would dare to stand against you. No one would even so much as hold your gaze for too long. Sure, you were intimidating, there was no debate about that. He was sure you could probably skin a palulukan with your bare hands if you wanted to. But you were also beautiful beyond measure. You carried yourself with grace and confidence. Lo’ak knew from the moment he started training with you that you needed a challenge. You wanted a challenge. And he decided that he was going to be the one to give you everything you wanted. And in turn, it would turn out like this. You turned into a submissive begging mess under him. And you loved it.

His hand moves from your chest to untie both of your loincloths and let them fall to the ground. The length of his dick rested on your ass and a drop of precum falls onto your lower back.

He stands and spreads your ass to watch how your pussy drips in waiting for him. He bites his lip in restraint. Two of his fingers run up and down the length of your slit to gather your slick. He holds them in front of your face, “Open.” You obediently open your mouth for his fingers and swirl your tongue around them. At the same time, he lines himself up with your opening and pushes inside you. You open your mouth, but his fingers push further inside your mouth making you choke on your own moan.

Once he bottoms out inside you, he wastes no time giving you hard, deep thrusts. He pulls his fingers from your mouth to hold your hips for better leverage. Your hands brace yourself against the rock to keep yourself upright. “Oh, fuck! Lo’ak!”

“Yeah, this what you wanted? You wanted me to fuck that little attitude out of you?” A sharp sting lands on your ass when he smacks it.

“Fuck! Yes! Yes!”

Your legs almost give out from under you, but Lo’ak’s grip on your hips keep you on your feet. “Shit, so tight for me.”

Your body is screaming for release. “Ah! Lo’ak, I’m close!” Just as your feel yourself half a second from going over the edge, Lo’ak stops. “Nooo…” Your hips fall back onto him trying to take back your orgasm that he ripped away from you. You can hear the low chuckle he lets out as his hands hold you place. Your head falls forward against the rock in front of you in frustration as tears prick your eyes.

“Lo’ak…please…”

His hand falls on your ass again in another sharp slap. “Who?”

“Please, sir! Please let me cum! I promise I’ll be so good!” You’ve never felt a need like this outside of your heat and he revels in the power he has over you in moments like this.

“Good girl.” He continues beating against your cervix and your head falls back in ecstasy. A hand finds your hair and grips it holding your head back farther. Your eyes almost get lost in the back of your head as they roll trying to meet Lo’ak’s eyes.

The knot in your core tightens again while you climb back up to your peak. “Ah! I’m…g-gonna…” you struggle to get your words out, but you don’t even need to finish your sentence.

“That’s right, baby. Be my best girl and cum on my dick.” His words push your mind over the edge and your body violently trembles under the weight of your orgasm. Lo’ak nears his own high feeling your pussy clench around him desperately trying to milk him deep inside of you.

“Oh, shit, just like that. Take it, baby.” His thrusts get erratic as he fills you with his seed. He holds his hips flush against your ass holding himself inside of you while you both come down.

When he pulls out of you, your legs fully give out. You almost fall to the sand, but Lo’ak catches you and scoops you into his arms. He carries you out into the water to help wash you off. You nuzzle your face into his chest while he holds you and carefully runs his hands over your body. He tenderly kisses the top of your head and the two of you stay out in the water just floating together until you’re ready to return.

…

The next day, everything is back to business as usual. You and Ao’nung are out fishing and he scrunches his nose up at you.

“What? Why are you making that face at me?” you ask finally fed up with it.

“You smell odd. What is that?” disgust drips from his words.

“One more word about it and I will skin you!” you say pointing at him. He rolls his eyes at you, but you know that this won’t be enough to make him stop asking.

Meanwhile, Neteyam and Lo’ak watch the two of you while practicing their breathing techniques.

“She’s kinda…intense, right?” Neteyam says lowly to Lo’ak hoping that you won’t hear him and turn your rage on him.

Lo’ak simply looks at you and shrugs his shoulders. “Not really.”

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar fic #awow #avatar smut #loak #lo'ak #loak x reader #loak fic #loak smut #loak imagine #avatar loak #atwow loak #loak sully #loak fanfiction #awow smut

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asnowfern · 2 days

Text

In Between The Lines

A/N: Happy @nestaarcheronweek ! This was originally intended for Metamorphosis but I’ll settle for cramming it in as a last minute contribution for Day 7 instead!

Summary: In her desperation to contact every friend and relative for help, a young Nesta stumbles onto a written connection with the most dangerous being of them all - a fae. She just doesn’t know that he needed the contact just as much as she did.

Rating: T, WC 3.3k

Read on AO3

With trembling hands, Nesta hands over what are now precious few coins over to the lady at the counter, thanking her before turning away. The ground crunching beneath her feet is a visceral thing. Every snap of a twig and crinkle of a dried leaf echoes in her ears.

Even coins to send out letters seem like a waste of precious resources. A cruel reminder of what they used to have in abundance being lost to them, having long sunk deep into the depths of the sea. Father had mentioned the funds they would get from selling the manor could tie them over for a good while but there is a despair and hopelessness in his dead brown eyes that boils Nesta’s insides.

It is as if he has given up.

Never mind he has three young daughters to feed and clothe, to ensure they wed well into good families. That look in his eyes was like looking at a dead fish, a reminder of a man who had all the riches on the island and still did nothing as his wife withered away. Nesta fumes just at the thought, the additional spurt of energy drives her home with hasty steps.

Nesta walks into the study where she has spent the last few weeks writing letters to every friend and relative - each one more desperate than the last. Only to receive nothing. The silence is louder than any crunch from the ground of impending winter or the trilling of birds surrounding a home that is no longer theirs.

The ink of the notepad glistens from where she had left it half written - another wretched letter she had all but signed off when the desolate realisation struck her: she has run out of contacts to write to.

She picks up the pad, a frown creases between her brows when notices fresh words forming just below where her letter stopped.

Who are you? How did you find me?

She drops the devil-willed pad, as if stung by hot iron.

No. Not the devil. Her fingers shake where she still has them stretched outwards.

Faerie.

***

For the first time in over forty years, Cassian feels something that is not fury and frustration, not the bottomless well of shame that he tries desperately every day not to lose himself in. Because for the first time after being trapped in Velaris, something from the outside seemed to have breached the enchantments hiding the Court of Dreams.

The content of the letter itself is nothing threatening. Just a letter pleading for financial assistance using words too beautiful for a bastard like him. Yet, oddly enough, there is no name or address.

The general in him hisses urgently, demanding him to plug the gap immediately. He pushes it aside in favour of the tight tug in his chest and the sight of elegantly curved scripture. The tug that pulls and pulls until the muscle beneath is sore and tender.

He tears his gaze away from the notepad and absently rubs soothing circles over his chest. Hazel eyes sharpen at the pen lying on the table a couple of inches away and he swipes it off the surface. He lowers the inky tip to the paper and watches blankly as the ink swells beneath the words and then vanishes.

With brows raised high, Cassian throws caution to the wind and scribbles away.

Who are you? How did you find me?

He drops the pen, fingers tapping incessantly against the pad, his leg joins in the restless motion soon after.

Minutes tick by.

Cassian continues to wait - knowing and needing the reply that is to come. He tosses the small knife up in the air. It flies past the height of his chest, his forehead, his wings, and back down into the waiting grip of seasoned fingers. Again and again, even as the room darkens around him.

Again and again until glimmering ink materialises, blessing the paper with its scrawl, beautiful but uncertain. Cassian leans forward, nearly toppling the chair over in its speed. Next to him, the tip of the blade embeds itself into the wooden surface of the table.

Can you help me?

He smiles widely as he pens down a reply, WHO are you?

Don’t play with me. His mysterious correspondent writes, angry in the crossing of their t, impatient in the jab of their period stop. Can you send us the gold or not?

He can’t, of course. Not while his city is still locked away. But they don’t need to know that yet.

What would you give me for it?

Dots of ink litter the space just below his question. As if they can’t quite decide how to respond. He lowers the pen to paper once more and offers, My name is Cassian. And you?

He frowns as the black ink forms more words, shaky yet stubborn. Are you here to help me or not?

A name, sweetheart. He taunts.

He can almost hear the huff in the response. You can call me Nina.

Is that your real name?

No. He barks out a laugh.

Touché.

Can you help me, Cassian?

A spark blazes a trail down his spine as he takes in his name written by his mysterious partner. He so desperately needs to see it again.

I want to. He tries to explain because he thinks it might actually kill him to have to lie to her. But there is a powerful ward that keeps my city hidden. I can’t contact anyone outside.

Without even realising it, he finds himself without air. Maybe in worry that she wouldn’t respond or in response to the ache in his chest. But finally, he releases it with the appearance of charcoal ink.

Then what do you call this? Comes the answer, direct yet petulant.

I don’t know. I thought that it might have been you.

Another scoff, he can almost hear it. Clearly, because he is the fae here, enthralling the young human female. Don’t be ridiculous.

I usually am. But not on this. You are the first person outside of the city that I have contacted in decades.

A long pause.

So you really can’t help me?

Cassian hovers the pen over the paper before, finally, I’m sorry.

He never gets a reply after that.

***

Nesta freezes in her path, sharp steely blue eyes taking in the angry twin pair of eyes. The tension crackles between them.

“What have you done?” She spits, “You were supposed to get food from the market.”

Feyre’s too youthful and slender fingers grip tighter around the body of the slightly battered bow slung over her shoulder. She shoots back sarcastically, “And then what? Starve for the rest of winter?”

She knows that. She did the maths weeks ago. The measly coins they had left would have lasted them no more than one more week. But it still could have been one more week of stale bread and pathetic bland stew, of not starving. Nesta’s jaw clenches, the muscle in her neck feathers in effort not to twist towards the lump of a man carving yet another wooden creature.

Instead, she tilts her chin just a degree north and her lips curl in derision. “And what can a child like you do?”

Her younger sister shakes her head incredulously, her knuckles turning white around the bow. “At least I am doing something.” And without another word, Feyre pulls her back rigid and walks out of the cottage.

Nesta ignores the all too perceptive brown orbs of her other sister, turning away to focus her attention on arranging the sparse possessions they have on the single shelf. Blue grey eyes narrow as they snag on the wide gaps between the stone walls.

A forgotten distant memory. A fevered conversation with a piece of talking paper. She pushes it away.

She draws her trembling hands back towards her chest and down to her sides. Slim fingers close in forces on the folds of the coarse material of her frock.

Useless. She is useless. What is a sharp tongue and perfect waltz in the face of starvation? What is the point of her? She thinks bitterly and turns away from the wall crevice.

The youngest Archeron returns hours later when the chill of the autumn night has begun to creep into their stoned shack, announcing her arrival with a creak of the door. Nesta opens her mouth, ready to shoot a snide remark when Feyre angrily dumps two squirrels on the table. Nesta forces her gaze away from the dead glassy look of the catch and meet-

The haunted abyss that has darkened the edges of vibrant grey blue eyes. The eyes of a girl who had just lost a piece of herself to the cold desolate woods.

The blankness vanishes with the next blink and Nesta clears her throat, snipping with distaste, “What am I supposed to do with this?”

Swallowing a growl, Feyre barely suppresses a look of bewilderment and yanks the squirrels off the table, noisily stalking out of the cottage. Only the sheer weight and ill-maintained hinges prevent the door from slamming. The entire house turns quiet in her absence, even the oscillating of Elain’s gaze is a palpable presence.

Nesta does not see that look in Feyre’s eyes when her sister steps back through the door. Instead, she takes in Feyre’s anger and bitterness and returns them with her own frosted rage.

Hours later, when sleep has eluded her for far too long, Nesta slips out of the body-warmed sheets of their shared bed and into the shivering grasp of the dead of night. Surely, only the Gods know the time now.

She crosses her hands to rub the back of her upper arms, futilely trying to stave off the eruption of goosebumps spreading along her skin. She halts to retrieve a crumbled pad from behind the loose stone.

She should have left this cursed pad in that large manor. Let the wickedness that lives within infect its next occupier, whoever is unlucky enough to buy their house. But when it was time for her to leave, she couldn’t. Her arm resolutely refused to obey its owner’s command and it was all she could do to stuff it beneath a loose rock and pray that it did not try to influence anyone else in her family.

Her fingers trace the yellowed parchment, her brain plays the scene of Feyre stepping out into the snow on repeat. Her youngest sister, taking up the mantle because the man who calls himself their father can’t. His ineptitude, her failure.

The iron bracelet jingles uselessly around her wrist as she raises a pen to summon, Cassian?

No answer. Of course, it’s been months, she scolds herself.

But still, Nesta foolishly stands in the cold. Staring until…

Missed me, sweetheart?

***

Cassian closes the door to his room with a small snick, one hand still ruffling the damp towel over his hair. He tosses it into a bucket in a corner, knowing it would have vanished before it actually hit the bottom. Exhaling a long insufferable breath, he collapses on the soft surface of his bed. His eyes travel to the yellowed pad lined neatly next to his blade.

Nina. Or whatever her true name is, not that it really matters at this point. They have been chatting on and off for a couple of years shrouded in masks and half-truths. Sometimes they go weeks without communicating, once even months.

A part of him still chastises himself for not having brought this to Amren - at what is clearly a breach in their wards. But how can he when he has been dying to crack them open without having the protection fall apart like a house of cards for decades? Spending hours in the library if it meant he could find a hairline fracture to slip through, to be fighting by his High Lord’s, his brother’s side? In its stead, he found a link to an all too young human female who is trapped by the Cauldron just as cruelly.

Someone, who wields sharp words as their sword and wit as their shield. With her, Cassian’s world is suddenly more than just Velaris. With her, he once again breathes the crisp air of the Illyrian mountains.

A careless hand sweeps the bound stack of paper off the table. It hits the firm muscled chest with a slight thud. His brows raise with amusement as he rereads where their conversation ended just a couple of nights ago.

Reading. I miss reading.

He spent minutes staring at the same elegant curvature that he has long ago committed to memory. He breathed it in once more, the enthrallling way she flicks the ends of her g or slopes her R, before rushing down to the depths of the House. He ignored the slight scowls of the priestesses as his wings rustled noisily past the quiet caverns of the library. It took him a couple more precious ticking minutes before he picked out a book.

With a tickling in his chest and a blooming smile on his face, he picked up a stray pen and began to write.

Cassandra’s head whirled around to take in her surroundings - the snowy mountains flanking the small town, the comforting smell of freshly baked bread, the chatters of life and energy swirling around her-

Her heart stuttered.

The male tilted himself away, facing the horse sputtering in delight as he ran a brush along silky soft fur.

Are you writing me a romance??? Disbelief playfully interrupted him.

He corrected her because he sure ain’t hell will never get away from pretending to be able to write it himself, I am copying you a romance.

A pause.

Why?

Because you said you missed it.

The lack of reply spoke louder than any words would. It compelled Cassian to put pen to paper once more and continued copying.

The sight of the long sections of fiction brings a lingering smile at the edge of his mouth, a warm flutter in his chest. Nina, being the infuriating female that she is, snipes impossible notes at the sidebars, distracting him repeatedly.

Cassian curves his abdomen in to sit up, one arm already outstretched to reach for the novel. In the next moment, he starts to write.

***

The fire crackles as the decadent scent of a hot meal wafts over the cottage. There is a lightness that traverses the house that is completely foreign to Nesta: Elain humming a melody just under her breath, lithe hands a motion in arranging a vase of beautiful flowers. Their father moves with a spring in his steps as he hovers back and forth a ledger of carefully notated accounts.

Just for a moment, Nesta lets herself pretend - immerse herself in the same reality her father and sister live in. They’re not poor any longer. Hot piping meals are readily available. The desperate kernel of hope they have held on to in the past few years has prevailed.

And she opens her eyes to zone in on the piece of broken wood left by an enraged beast of terrifying size, and the elder Archeron sister remembers.

There is no Aunt Ripleigh, there is no mysterious gold recovered from lost seas. There is no good fortune.

This is only a monster honouring some ridiculous treaty from generations past. There is no forgetting that the price of comfort is their youngest sister.

The wrongness of it leaves a bitter taste in Nesta’s mouth.

Silently, Nesta draws the paltry number of coins from her pockets. Coins Feyre had managed to barter from that female mercenary for the Wolf’s pelt, a different type of blood money. Her mind begins to run the arithmetic and forms a plan.

Perhaps if instead of a pair of new boots that doesn’t pinch, she could have enough. The weight of her plan begins to ground her, reduces the level of bitterness of every fibre of her body screaming at her that this is wrong.

The crackling logs of the fire snaps, ensnaring her attention. The gaze of razor edged silver blue eyes shifts to the fire. Behind it, the loose rock some distance sharpens into focus.

That night, Nesta leaves the comfort of her warm bed once more, digging out the thick wad of paper. She skips through pages of an indulgent fae romance, right to the end of their last correspondence some weeks back.

The Faes are unscrupulous folks. They trick and they take. This one is different only because he can’t. He is trapped just as much as she is.

But still, he is fae.

How do I get past the wall?

She has almost dozed off when glistening ink spurs her back to alertness.

The wall? Into Prythian?

Nesta clicks her tongue in distaste at the obviousness of the question when he adds another word after his last message.

Whatever the reason - you shouldn’t.

The side of her palm presses hard into the papered surface, her fingertips turned white against the tip of her pen.

It remains at the tip of her tongue as her mind refreshes and reminds her: The deep roar of the beast, Feyre’s steely blue eyes as she steps forward, unwavering in the face of powers leagues beyond her own. It’s my sister. She’s been taken. I need to get her back. She almost spills it all out.

But she doesn’t, not trusting the truth with anyone. Much less another fae.

She asks instead, Why?

There is hesitance in his answer. Things are messy now. It is why my city is locked away. It’s not safe, much less for humans.

The blatant dismissal sets a flame alight. It sputters and hisses at the indignity. But like a steel blade stressed in an impossible heat, it eventually quenches and leaves her with a hardened resolve.

All the more reason for me to try.

She doesn’t ask any more questions. Counting and setting the last of Feyre’s coins aside, Nesta climbs back under the covers with Elain.

She will look for the mercenary tomorrow.

***

The frigid sting of water swallows her whole. It burns and burns and burns. Vapourising all that she was, forging into a being she did not want to become.

Nesta opens her eyes when the darkness and agony fades, a foreign silver fire simmers deep within her. Swirling, waiting.

Light streams through the windows and shines on the elegant furnishing of the room. Outside the clear glass is the panoramic view of a city that is not hers, that she wants no part of. Withholding a long suffering sigh, she gets dressed.

The all-too-sharp fae hearing picks up on familiar grunting which she has long identified as the two winged fae sparring. Something in her chest twists uncomfortably at the memory of the crimson siphon adorned Illyrian.

Like everything else, she pushes it away.

It is only after she finishes braiding her hair, tucking those all too sharp ears behind thick locks that she notices a new book lying on the table. She picks it up with a frown and opens to its marked page.

Cassandra’s breasts grew heavier with every breath. The darkened gaze of Matthias pinned her to the rough wooden planked walls, its coarse surface scrapped uncomfortably against her bare back. The male approached with a predator’s stride, his smirk grew as he bracketed her frame between his large arms.

Nesta scowls as she tears her gaze away from the page. Her heart traitorously stammers at the all too familiar scrawl on the thin slip of paper marking the page.

The library is on the second floor, just down the hallway from the stairwell.

For the first time since she’s spilled out of the cauldron, Nesta smiles.

#nestaweek2024 #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar

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