#But my skin fucking CRAWLS when anyone calls him a Mother

[unfried-mouth-wheat]

Mary Shelley herself actually came to me from beyond the grave and told me to give everyone this message:

STOP CALLING VICTOR A MOTHER

[theblueflower05]

Mi Ti’ong(In Bloom)

A/N: Usually I try to keep my readers pretty ambiguous so that everyone can envision themselves, but this ones gonna be a little more distinct. If that isnt your jam, please dont read! No use of Y/N. Reader nicknamed Flora. Based on the character from Winx Club! And this art!

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: Size difference kink.Mature Language. Smut. Overstimulation. Oral sex(female receiving) Neteyams a munch, it’s canon now.

Summary: Neteyam can have anyone and yet he only wants you. A small human who can usually be found among the flowers. Neteyam x Human! Reader

Sugar, honey, iced tea. Bumble bee on the scene.

Yeah I’d give up my bakery to have a piece of your pie, ugh!

-See You Again, Tyler the Creator.

The forest is alive, the beating heart of Eywa felt in each and every leaf among the trees.

Every glowing piece of flora and fauna, every creature whose calls echo through the vastness.

This time of year is special and it's as though it is known. Deeply and primitively by all. The rains had come and gone, nearly a month of bruised skies that had bogged down the village and its daily life.

But as they always do the skies cleared, and the sun made its reappearance. Glittering and glimmering- triple rainbows breaking out in kaleidoscope like figurations. Beaming down with all of it’s warmth and vitality.

The earth is well fed and fertile, the soil rich and blooming with new life.

It’s that new life that brings the talioang(water buffalo like beasts) back. The creatures return in great migrations to the lush pastures of sweet new grasses to have their babies. The fish swim upstream, battling the roaring rivers, to spawn. The fruit hangs heavy and ripe in the trees. All around there is nothing but full bellies and joy.

This period of abundance is the Great Mother’s gift to her children.

It had always been Neteyam’s favorite time of the year.

Everything lush and bursting with life, the excitement a low constant hum amongst the tribe. The Great Hunt is coming and his father had given him the okay to take lead.

In his nineteen years, he had never been appointed with so much responsibility.

Jake tells him it will all be fine, nothing but easy smiles. This will be good. A fantastic way to show the clan that he’s ready to take on the title of Olo’eyktan once his father steps down. Although he manages to keep is calm and cool demeanor in public, he’s so fucking nervous he can barley function.

It’s why he’s here, trudging through the branches.

The village is buzzing with excitement. Everyone wants a moment of his time, their voices overlap as they wish him good luck.

Question his competence as head of the hunt.

Subliminally hint that hunters twice his age have never gotten the chance to do what has been so freely handed to him.

Remind him that their daughters are pretty. Unmated. Makes the best steamed Teylu. Are fertile and willing to give him strong children-

Fuck.

The moment he could, he’d slipped away. Disappeared into the foliage and had booked it deep into the trees, desperate for a moment alone. For a moment of silence and the peace of being away from prying eyes.

He doesn't even really know where he’s going.

Only that he just needs to be away. If only for an hour. He needs to recharge his ever draining social battery, to get his head on straight before tomorrow's hunt.

Neteyam has always performed his best under pressure.

Things that made others balk and cower ignited something in him. A need to fight. To prove himself- it’s not the prospect of high adrenaline and stampeeding hooves that makes him squirm. It’s all of the attention its garnering.

He know’s fully well that being the next Olo’eyktan means that attention comes with the territory. But that doesnt mean the thought of everyones focus on him doesnt make his indigo skin crawl.

He’s leaping aimlessly between vines when he remembers his sisters earlier proposition.

“Come with me and Flora to the watering hole today! The waterfalls are so pretty during this season- We’re going to go swimming!”

It’d been tempting this morning, and now it is even more so. He could use a dip in the cool waters and Kiri was always an ear to vent to when he got overwhelmed. He’d clear head and then leave-

He wouldn't get stuck staring at you.

Again,

No.

He can't pinpoint exactly when this happened.

It was like one night you were just another human at the Outpost. Another familiar alien face he’d grown up around. Just like Spider you’d stuck close with the Sully children. Your cheeks always flushed beneath your exo-mask and your fingernails always dirty and caked with mud from the hours and hours you’d spend tending to any and all plants that came in your line of vision. You were always so soft. Too soft for his liking sometimes. You’d cry at just about anything whether it be one of those old Tawtute movies the scientists played at the lab or the sight of an injured shimmyfly.

And then suddenly gone was that snotty, teary little girl he’d always known. And in her place was…you. A woman grown. Beautiful and bold- and there was strength in your softness now. You’d proved him wrong so many times- made it clear that you weren't another responsibility he’d have to shoulder-

“I can take care of myself, Neteyam” you’d insisted, never letting him carry your heavy baskets or tend to your scraped knees.

It’s maddening, the way that you shrug off any and all of his advances drives him fucking insane.

Neteyam approaches the secluded bank of the watering hole that his family loves best slowly, keeping in the treeline. Just out of sight. Just like he’d expected he finds you and Kiri on the familiar sands. Kiri is lounging in the sun, eyes closed and humming a pleasant tune to herself-oblivious to anything around her. He’d have to chastise her about her complete lack of situational awareness later.

You’re knee deep in the lake- tending to the water lilies that grow close to shore. Your back is to him but he bets your nose is all scrunched up, just like it always is when you’re around anything green and growing. His eyes drink you in greedily. All of your sun kissed skin is on display in the tiny faded pink panties you don for swimming.

He’d never found humans particularly pretty before you. The intense differences in their bodies had never appealed to him-

But Eywa, are you something to look at.

Time had been kind to you, and as you’d grown your body had morphed into something goddess like. You’re a real looker, his father had claimed. Would’ve been a total knockout back on Earth.

You’re all plush curves. Your breasts are pert and sit like rip hanging fruit on your chest, your hips wide and thighs jiggly and thick. And your waist…he’s sure if he put his much larger hands around them, his fingers could touch. He could cage you in his hold.

That thought has him biting his tongue, hard enough to taste metallic. You turn a bit, your laughter chiming over the glittering water like soft wind at some dry joke Kiri made.

Your hair color is light, lighter than any Na’vi’s and falls down around your shoulders in thick waves. He can only make out the side of your face but your full lips are pulled into a coy smile and your light jade eyes sparkle and all hell. Neteyam is so gone on you.

You’re like nothing he’s seen and definitely nothing he’s had.

And since his Iknimaya he’s had his first pick of the women of the clan.

He’s tasted passionate huntresses and flexible dancers alike and none of them satiate his thirst. None of them are able to replicate what he can only imagine you might taste like. It’s almost pathetic how many women he’s had and how many times he’s almost called out your name as he emptied his seed.

Neteyam’s more discreet about his romps than his brother, that’s for sure- but still. It’s a known fact that he’s an unmated male at his prime and that comes with a certain appetite. He can have anyone he wants, any Omatikayan woman would be glad to spend a night with him.

Yet somehow he’s lurking, hiding in the bush. Watching you longingly. Simpering like a pre-teen and pining over the way that the sunlight plays in the strands of your hair.

He shakes himself from his embarrassing reverie.

No one would be able to tell that just moments before he’d been debating on stroking his cock to just the sight of you, lurking in the trees like a creep. No. As he approaches its with his head held high and a sharp smile on his handsome smile.

“Brother!” Kiri grins, sitting up once she clocks him.

“What are you girls up to?” Neteyam greets. Cool as a cucumber.

“Nothing much, just been here since dawn. The waters so high this year!” Kiri picks up a fruit from beside her, peeling at its tender meat “everyone’s been out here today-on the other side, but no one knows how to get to this spot so we’ve had the beach all to ourselves”

You’re coming in from the lapping shore, beaming at him “Look at all the paysul(waterlily) that’ve bloom! I’ve never seen this many- isn't it amazing?”

“They are very beautiful. The rains were hard this year. I’m surprised the flooding wasn't worse” Neteyam tries not to focus on how tiny your chest covering- the bra as you call it- is. He turns his attention to his sister instead.

“Where’s Tuk, I cant believe she’d miss a chance to swim with you guys”

“She’s with mom, stuck on weaving duty since she tore grandma’s favorite tapestry” Kiri snorts because her baby sister had thrown a complete fit when she had been told she couldn't come “What about you? I thought you we’re too busy to hang out with the likes of us”

“I was able to make a little time for my favorite girls” Neteyam jests, amused by your eye roll and Kiri’s scoff “Plus, Lo’ak told me you need some humbling. Seems you forgot who’s the best diver in the family”

“Oh, you’re on, Teylupil(penis face/dick head)”

After stripping down to only his cloth, his cumberband and com left on shore, he slips into the cool refreshing water with a pleased “Ah”. Enjoying the gentle current against his skin-only to be tacked under the surface by Kiri and all of her bony lanky limbs moments later.

The sun soaked afternoon is filled with laughter and splashing. It’s exactly what he needs.

The three of you play in the river like children. Neteyam and Kiri go at it like the always do- careful to be gentle with your smaller form as you join in. It’s easy to forget the looming pressure of the hunt while he’s jumping from the rushing waterfalls and racing his sister, discreetly preening when he wins and you cheer him on with little claps.

Eventually you all tire.

Kiri floats on the water and goes to that place in her head that she so often does. Completely at peace to be surrounded by nature. She claims it’s when she can best hear Eywa.

Neteyam keeps a bit of an eye on her to make sure she doesn't randomly fall asleep again. Hoping she’d have the sense to get back to the beach before that happened.

Water floods his face and goes right up his nose.

His head snaps to you, spluttering and wiping at his eyes, “What the hell?”

You just giggle innocently before disappearing beneath the surface.

Neteyam’s tail flicks with interest.

He decides to let you get your little head start. His heart speeds up with the promise of a hunt before he starts his chase.He might be bigger then you but you're quick and slippery. Your mask giving you the advantage of not having to come up for air like he does.

When he grabs your ankle, so sure he’s got you, you all but kick him in the face to get away.

You little shit.

Fine.

If you want to play dirty, then he’s game.

He allows you to think you have a chance. That you may be winning the little game. You’re heading for the waterfall, planning to hide behind it.

He’s bigger and more trained than you could ever hope to be.

It only takes one well planned move and you’re done.

He yanks a hold of you, secure. He holds you then, your back against his chest and his strong muscle corded arms wrapped around you from behind before propelling the both of you through the pounding waterfall and into the small, closed off cave behind it.

“Neteyam!” You whine, squirming in his hold like a fish and he just laughs because honestly. He can barely feel it. You’re trying to escape with all his might and he’s holding you the way he might hold a child throwing a tantrum.

He leans in close, burying his face in your wet hair, close to your ear “I win, Sylaung(flower)”

He feels you shiver in his arms and it just makes him hold you tighter. He could keep you like this forever, if you’d only let him. Instead he can feel without you even saying so how hesitant you feel about this

“I think I deserve a prize” he pushes on even further and you give him a confused, side ways look. He so graciously allows you to turn in his hold until your chests meet, face to face.

“Like what?” you wonder and you’re too cute. You’re looking up at him, struggling to treading water with your smaller legs- Neteyam lifts you higher, until you’re bracing your hands on his broad shoulders and he’s holding you above the current. Supporting you totally.

“Well what can you give?” His inquiry is almost condescending and you shrug.

“I’m fresh out of gold stars” you tease and he barks out a laugh. Do you think he can't tell? That he can't see the way your cheeks flush and your pulse hammers beneath the delicate skin of your throat?

“What about a kiss” he offers offhandedly and your face scrunches up in a glare automatically.

“You don't want to?...”

“Why do you make fun of me like this, Neteyam” It’s not often he hears your voice this hard, soured by embarrassment and self doubt.

“I’m not making fun of you” he insists with a sigh “I don't know why you always say that. When have I ever given you the impression that I’d do that?”

You won't meet his gaze. Your green eyes flick, anywhere but on him. Zeroing somewhere behind his back. All too interested on the rocky cave wall.

“If it wasn't for this damned mask” Neteyam husks, low and sincere “I’d kiss you right now”

Even still, you don't seem convinced. Won't look at him until he takes your face in his hand, his fingers gentle but insistent. They grip the mask at your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “Why don't you believe me?”

“I’m nothing like the Omatikaya women you’ve been with” you say plainly like it's so obvious. Like it's a problem.

“I know”

“You didn't even like me growing up. You thought I was annoying”

“That isn't true-”

“It is” you insist haughtily “you’d make fun of me for talking to my plants”

He doesn't mean to laugh, really he doesn't. It’s not the time for it and it just pisses you off even more. He doesn't let you out of his arms even when you swat at him. “Listen, I’m sorry. I think it’s very sweet the way you talk to your plants. I want you to talk to me just like that, please”

That earns him a little giggle and he feels very pleased with himself.

You play with his hair often, most times it's mindless. A way to distract yourself. Your small deft fingers twirl along his adorned braids. He craves the scritch of your manicured nails on his scalp.

“How do you want me to kiss you? If I have my mask on” The interest in your hair is only just veiled. Your attempt at being nonchalant fails.

“Hmm” Neteyam feigns thinking, face screwed up “I think I could come up with a few ideas”

A few thousand more like it. You were the star of all of his fantasies. You, twisted and contorted into positions that would surely make you blush. You, with your mouth hanging slack in pleasure. Screaming his name-

But you hadnt agreed to that. You only, just barely, agreed to let him kiss you.

When he leans in its slow. Slow enough to give you time to push him away.

The waterfall roars in the background, white noise, but even it can't drown out the thunderous beating of your frantic heart.

Then his lips are pressed against your throat, gulping in the sweet scent of you. He cant kiss your mouth, but he can kiss the sweet, smooth column of your neck. Your clavicle. Your quivering shoulders. The heavy flesh of your breast. His kisses are open mouthed, his rough textured tongue dragging over your skin, leaving saliva trails in their wake-

You gasp sharpley when drags the skimpy fabric of your bra down so he can get at your pebbled nipple. He’s just about to suckle, when the moment is broken.

“Guys! Where’d you go?!”

It’s Kiri. Obviously awake from her nap like meditation time.

Your eyes go comically wide and Neteyam reluctantly releases you. Not wanting to get caught with an armful of pretty, half naked human. He’s thankful for the cold water and the way that he can hide the hardness tenting his tweng.

He catches you by the wrist before you can dip beneath the falls-

“We’re not done here, Sylaung” the promise leaves his lips fevor laced and full of heat.

You can only gulp and nod dazed, “I still owe you a kiss” your sweet voice reminds, before you’re ducking back under the water.

Leaving him dazed and buzzing for a moment before he gets it together and follows.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Days later he still hasn't gotten his prize.

Although he’s celebrated by his clan, praised for his successful hunt, he feels like something is missing.

The Harvest Season and its celebrations are well underway. Every night there's dancing and singing around the large bonfires we’re fragrant spiced tailong meat roasts. Neteyam is highly decorated; feathers adorn his freshly braided hair and he's donned his most ornate cumberband. He’s hauntingly handsome

Spider and Lo’ak are sat near the main fire, laughing heartily and sharing a leather gourd full of liquor between themselves.

Spider’s obviously drunk and eyeing Kiri hungerly as she dances with Tuk- he’d never do that sober. Not with Neytiri so near. Lo’ak is lounged out, an attractive female in his lap. She giggles madly at whatever filth his little brother whispers in her twitching ear.

Jealousy bubbles acidicly in Neteyam’s belly and again, he wonders where you are. Why you arent here, in his lap. Letting him woo you.

He figures he’ll have to go to you then, if you won't come to him.

First thing to do is find you.

“Hey, Spider!” the human man is the best place to start. Spider’s eyes are glassy under his mask and still. His friend is excited to see him, greets him with a hand shake and a small hug.

“Neteyam, man! Where have you been all night?”

“Around, you know how it is” Neteyam shrugs, sitting sown on the log, accepting the gourd and taking a swig of the thick sticky sap inside. It burns all the way down.

“This partys essentially for him- I’m surprise you we’re able to get away from dad” Lo’ak shit-talks, like he always does. It’s good natured for the most part “I thought he might throw you a parade or something. Call in the clans-”

“Fuck you, man” Neteyam chuckles, shaking his head at Lo’aks theatrics. “Don't be jealous”

“Jealous of dad? Nah” Lo’ak “Now the women you’re getting? That I might be jealous of”

“Hey!” the girl in his lap, a weaver from a modest family, squrims, pinching at his shoulder “You’ve got all the woman you need for the night, sayrip”

She squeals when Lo’ak squeezes her tight around her middle and blows wet raspberry kisses into her neck.

Neteyam just rolls his eyes and shares a little look with Spider. By the next eclipse, Lo’ak wouldve moved on. He has a knack for loving and leaving.

“Why arent you out there, bro? I saw Amitsa giving you the eyes! She’s so hot and she doesnt ever give anyone the time of day” Spider juts his chin and sure enough. The woman is giving Neteyam longing looks from across the fire. She’s a pretty thing and her sultry voice is renowned in the tribe. He’d be lying if he said he wasnt attracted to her “You’re not gonna go try to get at that?”

No. He’s not.

“Uh” Neteyam scratches the back of his neck “I was actually looking for Flora, I havent been able to find her around lately”

Of course, that sets of a exactly what he knows it would.

His brothers are assholes and have teased his merciesly since discovering his obsessive crush. Spider knocks his much smaller shoulder against Neteyam’s and Lo’ak hoots with laughter.

“How someone can be pussy whipped for pussy they haven't even had is beyond me” Lo’ak snorts and Neteyam gives him a warning growl, his lips snarled up.

It’s nothing he hadn’t heard before.

Lo’ak finds it endlessly amusing that Neteyam had his eye on you, the tiny human he’d grown up so lukewarm about. It had always been his siblings; Kiri and Lo’ak and Tuk that were close with you growing up. Neteyam had never shown a speck of interest until your figure had grown curvy and supple-

“Piss off, I wasn’t asking you” Neteyam gives his best big brother stare down. His golden eyes hard and unimpressed before looking to Spider, hairless brows raised “You know where I could find her?”

“Listen man, she said wasn’t interested in hanging out with anyone tonight” the human man starts with a sigh and Neteyam’s growl is low and warning “-but I’m sure you can find her where she always is”

Neteyam wracks his brain for a moment “The Greenhouses?”

“Bingo” Spider nods, an almost sympathetic look in his eye as he watches Neteyam jump to his feet and set off.

Lo’ak sniggers and the girl in his lap scoffs and mutters something about “shameful, being that twisted up about a tawtute” but Spider says nothing.

Instead his plixr hazed eyes focus on the figure dancing close to the firelight. Kiri lets out a twinkling laugh at something Tuk says and yeah. Spider understands Neteyam. He understands being completely obsessed with something you’ve never had.

Instead of taking a note from his much braver brother, he lifts his mask and takes another shot of the acidic syrup.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Neteyam could make the trek through the forest to Hells Gate in his sleep..

He’d spent a good chunk of his childhood retracing these exact steps, headeded for the familiar concrete fortress that made up the last human outpost on Pandora.

Neteyam had always been far too similar to his mother, for countless reasons. But his distaste for everything industrial was one of the main reasons. As he got older he spent less and less time here. Couldnt be found in the cold echoing hallways like Lo’ak and the girls coul

But even he could admit.

There’s something beautiful about the Greenhouses.

With their dome like structure, the big glass buildings are a fortress for the humans. Inside they’re as hot and humid as the Pandoran rainforests- but circulating Earth air so that the fruits and vegetables that are native to Terra Firme can grow, even on this alien planet.

Neteyam makes his way inside, plugging in the codes into the keypad and letting himself in through the pressurized doors that slide closed right behind him. His eyes are peeled, taking in all of the foreign greenery, hoping to catch a flash of tanned skin or light hair in the cracks between trees.

The Greenhouses are huge. There’s orchards of apples and oranges and long deep garden beds full of root vegetables. Enough to feed the Hell’s Gate settlement throughout the year, to trade with the People of the Omaticaya.

No matter, he’s a blooded hunter after all.

He hones in on that training as he tracks your path. Your footprints along the cement floor are light, and really you barely leave any trace of yourself at all. You float along with light steps and Neteyam truly thinks if you had been born one of the People you would’ve made a fine huntswoman-

He finds you in the shade of the orange trees. You’re up on a stool, gathering the plump fruit and humming a pleasant little tune.

You’re ethereal in artificial sunlight.

You’re something out of the books that Norm used to read to them when they were kids. His favorite had been the one about the boy who would never grow up and the island of Neverland. And the tiny golden dust covered pixi that flitted from page to page.

A fairy.

A being not quite real. Too gentle and feminine to exist.

He likes the tawtute clothes you wear. The small top that clings to your breasts like a second skin and the flowy patterned skirt. Of course if it was up to him you’d only ever wear the garments of the People- or even better, Nothing at all.

You reach too high, strained up on your tippy toes and Neteyam feels irrational fear at that. At all of your delicate skin and breakable neck-

He’s beside you in an instant and he doesn't need a ladder to reach the high hanging fruit you’d been struggling for. He grabs the fruit with one hand while the other stabilizes you, his big palm spread out across the small of your back.

You gasp at his warm touch. Your head snapping in his direction and legs going wobbly.

“Neteyam!”

“Flora” He sighs as he urges you down from the ladder, takes the heavy bucket of fruit from your hands “You really do need to be more careful”

You splutter for a moment, still shocked at his sudden arrival “I- ugh! I was fine!” you insist haughtily “It’s not like I don't do this all of the time. You didn't need to come help me, I can manage perfectly fine on my own”

“Need to help you?” Neteyam cocks his head a bit.

“Yeah…I mean. Why else would you be here?” you ask, scratching awkwardly at your arm for a moment “Tonight's the celebration. You really should be back with the clan-”

“As should you” He cuts you off firmly. Not liking the way that you’re trying to separate yourself from the tribe. From him “I have not seen you for days. Do you not want to feast with our people?”

You sigh, looking away from him. Biting at that plump ever pink bottom lip of yours. Always shy, he knows he needs to bring you out of your shell. You’ll find a way to run away from him again if he doesn't.

“I didnt come here to help you” Neteyam admits because he’s selfish and because you’re too beautiful. Even more so, since you’ve been hiding from him. Avoiding his attention.

“Oh really?” you’re not coy by nature but there's something in your eyes. In the way you’re looking up at him “Then what are you here for?”

“My kiss”

Your pupils expand, just the tiniest bit but he can see it. He can see it all. Every inch of your pretty face, unbridled by that cumbersome mask you usually are forced to don. He can see every freckle and blemish- and the way that a blush creeps across the apples of your cheeks.

“A deals a deal” Neteyam insists at the prolonged silence. At your nervous flicking gaze.

“Okay” is your sweet reply and he can only stare at your plump lips. A man with one thing and one thing only on his mind.

You don't protest when he reaches for you. When his big hands go around your waist and tug slowly until he’s enveloping you in his chest. You fit so perfectly, right under his sternum. Stare up at him with wide eyes that flutter closed the closer he inches his face towards yours.

The kiss is wet and electric and Neteyam wants to eat you whole.

Any awkwardness that comes from the size difference is soon overcome by the desire that simmers between you. You let him lead, always so willing to go with whatever flow he may give. Let him nip at your delicate bottom lip until he can almost taste the metallic twang of blood. Let him stick his much bigger tongue into your warm mouth, and then down your constricting throat.

As you make little gasping choking sounds, he imagines it's his huge pulsing cock stealing the air from your lungs instead.

You gasp for breath when he pulls away, as he trails kisses down your soft jaw. He cant stop, wants to taste you everywhere. Every inch of skin. He know it must be overwhelming- if your heaving breaths and mewls are anything to go by, he knows you’re feeling every inch of the mind spinning need that he is.

Still,

No matter how much he gropes at you with rough hands and drags spit soaked kisses over your neck and chest, youre so good for him. Such a good girl. Holding on for any ride he might take you on. Your fingers twined in his silky braids arent there to push him away, but to pull him closed.

When he grasps you by the back of your thighs and hoists- you wrap your legs around his slim waist, your ankles hooking at his lower back.

The helpless noise you make goes straight to his groin.

Neteyam lies you down on hard floor. He’d rather have you in the warmth of his Kelku, or under the stars, but at least here he can get at your maskless face. At your bare lips. Once he’s cradling your head safely and tucked in between your spread thighs he's at you again. Ravenously.

You’re so docile, so eager to let him take whatever he wants.

“Flora” he husks into your hair and you shiver.

“Yeah?”

“Flora” Neteyam brings your little body even closer.”You have no Idea. I have to have you. I need-”

You squeak needily “You can have whatever you need” and gasp when Neteyam kisses your cheek. Your lips. Your jaw. Your neck. Your nerves are on fire and your hips grind against his.

“I need this body. I need to see all of it, you drive me crazy” Neteyam armits as he tugs on your top and you help him pull it up over your head. You dont wear a bra, why would you? Your pretty rosy nipples are all on display for him. Pebbled and begging for attention, He laps slowly with his wide textured tongue at the puffy nub.

He suckles like a newborn until you’re chivalry and making hurt little sounds, until your pretty chest is covered in blooming bruises.

And then he’s dragging his wanting mouth down. Past your heaving ribs and over your soft belly. Neteyam hikes the flowy material of your skirt up high, until he can bend down and poke his head underneath.

“Oh!” you gasp, writhing a bit. Your thighs trying to close on instinct.

You’re so wet for him, the smell of it is thick and heady and he digs his nose into your inner thigh and snuffles. Its mouthwatering.

And it bit mortifying, from your end. Having the large man with his head buried under your skirt as he sniffs at your core-

When he licks a fat stripe over you, wetting up the thin material of your panties you cry out. No ones ever touched you like this and here he is, licking at your clothed pussy. Over and over until the fabric is translucent and sticky with your flowing juices.

“Please” you mewl, gathering the fabric, yanking until you can see him.

Its filthy and erotic. The sight of his hulking blue body between your trembling tanned thighs. So alien. So taboo-

“Please what, sylaung?” Neteyam taunts, his golden eyes meeting yours. They shine with mirth, and lust. So much lust. When he noses at your pink flowery panties you throw your head back, eyes squeezed closed. Unable to take the sight any longer “You want me to take care of you?”

“Yes” you sob because you’re pulsing and you can barley breathe you’re so horny “Please take care of me with your tongue”

Neteyam strips you then, out of your skirt and cute little panties and you’re lying under him. Naked and flushed and wanting.

He shoulders himself exactly back where he wants to be. Where he’s always wanted to be.

“Don't worry, I’ll take care of this sweet pussy for you”

Oh god. Your head is spinning.

You can barely think as he kisses on the jiggling fat of your thighs.

“I’m sorry” you gasp.

Neteyam hums right against your core and you can feel the vibrations throughout your entire body “What for?”

“I’m so messy” you whisper, that pink blush blooming all over your body.

Groaning, Neteyam can't wait any longer. Your flavor bursts along his taste buds. Tangy and earthy and decadently sweet. He’s had his fair share of cunt before, but he’s never tasted a humans and he’s shocked at how saccharine it is. It’s sticky and coats his mouth and throat. His lips and nose and chin as he digs in.

“Neteyam!” You wait.

“Fuck. Oh, Eywa. One Second” Neteyam sits up and adjusts himself where his painfully hard under his tweng and the ache in you deepens. You try to be good, try to be still as he leans in and licks at you again. Kisses your pussy in that same beautiful passionate way he kisses your lips.

He’s good. Too good at this. He’s had too much practice and you never had a chance againts that oversized mouth.

“Holy fuck” the words sound even more vulgar in your honeyed voice “Fucking hell, Nete. Nete. I’m almost there”

Neteyam grin is hidden between the lips of your pussy. He doubles down, letting you hump and soak his face. Then lapping back at inside of you in a repetitive and ceaseless rhythm, One that has you shaking, arching up off the ground. Your plush thighs closing, clamping around his head as you come.

Your orgasm cinches tight and rushes around you, inside of you, out of you with a gush of slick. It’s so deep. So strong, that it takes a moment for you to truly peak and it leaves you in a daze. Out side of your body as you fuck up againts Neteyams mouth like a wild animal.

You’d never come so hard in your life and it takes a while for you to recenter.

Once youre able to focus past the rushing in your ears, the first thing you notice is Neteyam’s face streaked with wet. Your blush blooms across your cheeks as you both breathe unevenly into the quiet.

“Did that feel good?” Nereyam knows it did, but still. He needs to ask. Needs to hear you say it.

You giggle, girlish and airy as your dainty hand releases his hair and cups at his cheek “So so good. I’ve never felt anything like that before”

His grin is all too feline and seeing those white canines gleam so close to the most sensitive part of you is a little alarming.

“There’s so much more to come, yawntutsyip” Neteyam promises, leading back down. His fingers play with the jiggle of your thigh- so different then any of the Omaticaya women he’s had You squirm a bit, clearly overstimulated, but keep your legs spread anyway.

Neteyams long digits prod gently at your pussy lips. You’re oddly pretty here. All red and rosy and inflamed, like that blush he loved so much on your cheeks. He spreads you with two fingers so that he can look at you inside. At your quivering pink folds and your tiny little hole that clenches when he runs his finger along it.

“You’re so small here” he whispers, completely hypnotized by it “So fucking tight. You’ll never be able to take me”

You whimper unhappily “Don’t say that. I want to- please just try”

“Shh,” Neteyam soothes your cries. Your dazed worries. He distracts you with his tongue, as it swirls over your throbbing clit. It feels a bit like sandpaper to your nerves, but you can get enough.

When his finger begins to breach you, you hold your breath.

Its big, but youre so loose from your first orgasm, so desperate to be filled that he sinks in until the hilt.

Its maddening after that and you grind the back of your head into the hard concrete under you- your eyes closed and your mouth hanging open. The sounds you make are feral and raw-

Neteyam fucks you open with one and then two fingers until its easy. Until the sweet stretch doesn't burn- instead its slippery and wet.horribly wet as Neteyam feasts on you as he fucks you with his fingers-

“Too much-Fuck” you weakly try to pull away from the assult of pleasure but he he’s too strong. Pins you down. Makes you take whatever he wants to give you.

When he lifts your hips up even higher to take a curious lick at your puckered asshole you white out.

This orgasm isnt like the first. You sink under the waves of this one. Your muscles cramp with the intensity. You cant come back to yourself, you can’t cling to anything but Neteyam. You cant even scream.

He’s everything, as he soothes you. As he makes you feel things you’ve never felt before.

“H-hurts” you whimper, eyes filling up with tears. Pussy aching.

“Just a little more baby” Neteyam huffs as he licks at you and stuffs the hand that's covered in your cum down his own tweng. It lubricates the fast and furious pumping of his fist along his rock hard cock.

He cant fuck you tonight, thats something the two of you will have to work up to. He’ll teach your tiny body to take him. To crave penetration.

But with his tongue buried in your pulsating pussy and your scent all around him its easy enough to pretend. Easy enough to imagine shoving himself into you slowly. Stretching you’re ruined. Your hole would never be the same. You’d forever gape because of him-

Neteyam comes with a roar and dirties his loincloth up like a teenager.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Later, after he’s cleaned you both up the best he can and gathered you to his chest. After he’s taken a sip from the breathing mask and nuzzled ar your wispy soft baby hairs that are plastered against the side of your sweaty head-

That he has the urge to read that book again. The one with the fairies. As he watches your slumbering face, your nose scrunching and lips pursing, he thinks the onlt thing missing is the gossamer wings,

His own little fairy.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

AAAAAAND we’re done.

First and foremost I want to give the wonderful @oakbuggy her accolades. Her Neteyam x Flora art inspired this fic 100%. A couple months ago I actually messaged her begging her to let me right this for her because I just couldn't get over this crackship of dreams. Thank you for being so patient with me. I hope you enjoy that overstimulation, baby!

PLEASE GO CHECK OUT HER ART. It’s sooooo delish.

This was a monster to write because I just had so many different ideas of what I wanted to do with the two of them and couldn't pinpoint where exactly I wanted the plot to go. Even now its a bit messy but still. I’m a fucking sucker for Neteyam x Flora and I would be more then happy to write more of them if thats something everyone would be into.

Please give me some feedback. What did we think about this writing style? Do we like the Y/N route more?

Until next time sweet honey bees!

[multi-fandom-imagine]

«And all I can breathe is your life

A/n: here it is! That Leon Vendatta angst with a happy ending I was talking about.

He was drinking again, something he did his best to stop when he met and married you.

Ironic thing was that you were the very reason to why he was drowning himself in alcohol in the first place. It should have been him, it’s what he kept telling himself.

It.Should.Have.Been.Him.

+•+

Chris had wished he could go another specialist, go to anyone about this but Kennedy was his only option.

It felt wrong to bother him, it made his skin crawl knowing that he couldn’t even let the man grieve over the death of his wife. He couldn’t imagine what he was going through, didn’t want to imagine what it must feel like to have your soul mate ripped from you, the one you love just gone in a blink of an eye.

He’s meet you a handful of times thanks to Claire, he knew how close you had been with his sister. Working his jaw he slipped out of the car glancing over at Rebecca. “Let’s get this over with.” Chris muttered.

+•+

It was the one thing he kept replaying in his mind over and over.

A stupid argument over something he couldn’t even remember. Something that he wished he could have taken back.

The image of your tears streaming down your face, the slamming of the door echoing in the back of his mind like some sick joke.

Because if that stupid argument had never happened then you’d still be alive and he wouldn’t be alone.

Drinking. It was the easiest thing to do to try and forget your face. To drown out the memories of your laughter, your smile.

And even though he tried to drink away your memory it didn’t stop him from calling your number just to hear you voice.

It didn’t stop him from staring at the wore out picture of you on his wallet.

“I really am a gluten for punishment aren’t I.” Leon didn’t even bother to look up from Rebecca’s concerned gaze, his finger hovering over your name, tempted to hear your voice one more time. “You sure you want to be near me Doc. People tend to die around me….Y/n….she didn’t stand a chance.”

Rebecca opened her mouth though nothing came out, she didn’t know how to answer that. She wasn’t even sure how could answer something like that. She didn’t like seeing him so cynical. “Leon.”

“Did Chris tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

Unscrewing the cap to his flask he nearly scoffed, ignoring the burning of the alcohol he did his best not to snap at her. “That I’m the reason why my wife is dead.”

+•+

Wincing from the bright light you were about to groan at Leon to turn off the lamp until it hit you.

You were kidnapped. You were kidnapped by some psycho because you resembled his dead wife. Doing your best to push down the sudden panic you noticed your writes tied. “Mother fucker.”

It was the same thing for the past month, the man would come in. Say you belonged to him, you’d scream until your voice was raw, demand that he let you go. He’s refuse and then you would be knocked out by some gas.

Same cycle.

Rinse and repeat.

“I see our dear Princess has finally awoken.” Just hearing his voice made your skin crawl.

“Go fuck yourself! You kidnapped me you nutcase.”

Stepping close the man cupped your chin, his thumb gliding over your lips. “Kidnapping is such s strong word. I would like to call it…rehomed.” Uncuffing you from your chair while still keeping your wrists bound the man pulled you in to his chest. “Such a beauty….I have something to show you.”

Not letting you get a chance to reply, the man started to tug you down halls. So many that it was starting to make your head spin. “When my husband finds you he’s going to fucking kill you.” You snapped but that only made him laugh.

“You mean that man right there?”

And suddenly the whole room was lit up, a screen flickering on. Your heart lurched seeing him, he looked so tired, so sad. “Leon.”

“Kill them.”

Snapping your head up you didn’t even get chance as the feed cut out, you could hear the gone go off as your jumped towards the screen. Leon’s name spilled from your lips as the man, Arias you had come to find yanked you back to his chest. His fingers running through your hair, letting you as you sobbed.

“Shh….now you have no one.No one knows you’re here. So just accept your fate and be my wife.”

Raising your head, you quickly spat in the man’s face only to feel a harsh slap against your skin. Looking up at the man you didn’t care what happened to you now, not anymore. “Fuck you, I’d rather die.”

Rolling his neck, Arias grabbed you by the arm. A yelp escaping your lips as he tugged you to another room. Tossing you in, he turned his back locking the door as your hands started to slam on the metal.

“You piece of shit! Let me out”

Wrists raw you stumbled away from the door. Tears swelling in your eyes as your backed into a corner. Sitting down you drew your knees close to your chest, wrists still bound you then started to sob.

Leon was gone and you never felt more alone.

+•+

Rebecca was more than grateful to be searching for any survivors. She rather not be dealing with whatever Leon and Chris were handling yet with everyone one she checked she couldn’t find a single person.

Until she came to the last door, she could barley see a figure sitting down, the contrast of the white dress was whet stood out though her eyes went wide when she realized who it was.

Who you were.

“Y/n….Y/n Kennedy? Holy shit! Am I ever glad to see you.” Giving you a smile, Rebecca slipped into the room quickly checking you over. “You’re alright…right?”

Blinking, you bit your lip as she undid your cuffs though you were trying to rack your brain on who she was. “I’m…I’m fine. Who are you?”

“Oh! I’m Rebecca Chambers! Chris Redfield and your husband sent me to find survivors an- Hey! Wait! Where are you going.”

‘Leon’…Leon was alive?!’

Heart pounding in your chest you grasped the edges of the white dress as you took off running, hells flying off but you didn’t care. You had to see him, you had to be in his arms again.

“I’m coming Leon.”

+•+

Chris rolled his neck, he couldn’t wait to go home and rest though maybe he shouldnt leave Leon alone. With Arias dead, he wasn’t sure what might happen to him now.

“Leon.”

Scoffing, Leon turned his head. He had half a mind to reach for his flask but that was long gone now. “You don’t need to Leon me. I’ll be fine.”

“That’s Bullshit Leon you need to talk about this.About your wi-.”

“Don’t Chris I don’t want too-.”

“Leon!”

Tensing for a moment Leon squeezed his eyes shut,he had to be going crazy because how he was hearing your voice. Head turning to the sound, his eyes went wide for a fraction of a second until he started to run.

It couldn’t be you, it couldn’t. You were dead! They told him your were dead! That nothing was left of your body. Yet here you were running towards him and then your were in his arms.

You were in his arms and of felt so good.

Leon didn’t even realize that he had fallen to his knees, that his body was shaking and tears were spilling from his eyes and he didn’t care. He didn’t care because you were alive.

Threading your fingers through the man’s hair, you placed a kiss to the side of his head. You felt him desperately holding on. His fingers digging into the fabric of the dress. You were so happy, so happy knowing he was okay, that you were both going to be okay.

“I’m sorry Y/n…I’m sorry. I should have never fought…that night I shouldn’t have.”

“Shh”Kneeling down you brushed the man’s tears away as you gave him a smile. “You have nothing to apologize for Leon…I’m just happy you’re here.”

Chuckling weakly, Leon buried his face into your neck inhaling your scent deeply. He couldn’t wait to get you home, to have you in his arms again.

+•+

It was getting close to it being four months since the incident and it, something Chris was grateful for since it means he was slowly putting that moment behind him. Grabbing a hold of the mail he started to slip through the junk until he paused on one particular piece.

One letter, addressed from one Leon Scott Kennedy.

Hit with a sense of curiosity, he sat down at table reading it. An invitation for a diner, a thank you for pulling him out of his depression, and for making him tag along because if he didn’t then it meant he wouldn’t have found you and a thank you for giving him a chance to be a father.

Snorting, Chris pulled out his phone ringing up the man’s number. “Congrats Kennedy….you coulda called ya know…but ya.I’d love to see you two again. I mean I am gonna be godfather to this kid right.”

[spctrsgf]

the attack

summary: marc was no stranger to a rough fight. but what happens when one fight is a bit too much?

word count: 1.4k

warnings: language, descriptions of blood/wounds/death, marc has a panic attack, angstier than i wanted tbh but

a/n: this was supposed to be fluffy but it turned out so dark i'm sorry idk what happened

another a/n: i want to note that everyone's panic attacks look different, and i tried to factor in what ive seen from moon knight and my own experience with panic attacks to write marc's

He had to get home.

He had to get home, and fast.

His hand came to rest on the bricks of a building beside him as he heaved in a breath, instantly regretting it as sharp pain sliced across his abdomen. With bleary eyes, he looked up to meet the window of a car that held Steven. “Mate, you’re not looking great–” Marc waved him off. “I’m fine, Steven. I just have to-” he shoved himself off the wall with a grunt of effort. “Get home.”

“Please just call y/n.”

“No,” Marc huffed, his patience and energy to argue with Steven wearing painfully thin. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” Jake snorted from a window to his right. “Doesn’t look like it.”

“Fuck off, both of you.”

“Please, Marc-“ Steven tried to placate.

“I can do this by myself.”

“I’m not sure that's a good-”

“Steven!” Marc yelled, exasperated and tired. “Stop.”

The man’s only response was to duck his head with a solemn glare.

“Spector—“ 

The said man whirled on the window. “You too, Jake.”

Jake went to say more, but instead decided to put his tongue back in his mouth and prepare to take control instead.

Marc’s jaw clenched in short victory, and he moved his focus to walking. Only two more buildings. He told himself. His eyes darted every which way in a sort of frantic habit, shoulders tense in his vulnerability. Shoulders tense in the knowledge that if he were to be attacked right now, he wouldn’t make it out alive.

Deep down, he knows that Steven is right. He should call you. He’s aware that you won’t judge his strained words, won’t do anything but get to him as fast as possible. You’ll leave the engine running in your beat up Honda, dash over to where he’d since crumpled onto the ground, toss his arm over your shoulder and haul him into the car and then to your shared apartment, careful to avoid his bloody limbs from touching anything. You’ll patch him up and put him back on his feet, just like you always do.

But– something holds him back tonight. Maybe it’s the blood from the cut that seems to be too deep, something that the suit should have protected him from. Maybe it’s Khonsu’s lying words that ‘it’ll be a quick one tonight, worm.’ Maybe it’s the fact that he let the man’s words get to him, let them crawl under his skin and make a permanent home in his brain. 

Marc Ssspector.

He shook his head, trying to stop the memories before they started.

I heard about your childhood. Tragic, really.

He was nearly there now, maybe a building or two away.

Your brother’s death must’ve cut you deep, knowing that it was your fault. 

He swallowed down his panic.

And then what? Your brother dead, your mother abusive, your father nothing but a shell of a man.

His hands started to shake. Not good, not good, he told himself, he cannot be having a panic attack right now.

No wonder Khonsu wanted you. How easy it must’ve been to take a trainwreck like you in, to make you do all of his dirty work. 

Marc’s breaths became labored as he tried to shove down his pain, both wound and the sharp ended words.

But did Khonsu ever really want you at all?

Marc’s eyes fell to his feet in frustration and in shame. 

Did Layla ever really want you at all?

All he had to do was move his right foot up and forward. Why was it so hard?

Did y/n ever want you at all?

His vision swam with tears as he let them fall down his face, angry and sad and panicked. 

Does anyone ever really want you at all?

He fell to his knees, letting out a yelp of pain.

It was at this moment he realized he might be dying.

He’d done it twice, and he could do it again. It seemed probable. At the moment, being free of his mind and his pain was sounding increasingly appealing. No more guilt, no more trauma, no more Khonsu, no more people taking his heart and shattering it on the floor. 

But as he feels his head go light and his vision rim with white, the only thing he can think of is you. You and your bright smile and perfect eyes and the way you got him, the way you were always there for him and his alters. Steven and Jake too met the front of his mind as he thanked whatever was out there that brought him such amazing people to surround himself with. 

– ✮ –

When Marc came to, he wasn’t in that boat he’d been on with Steven nor was he met with the dirty ground of the street outside his apartment building. No, he was in a bed, his bed. Which meant he was home, in his house. Which meant–

You came strolling in then, and he drank up the sight of you like a man who’d been starved of water. You were wearing one of your typical comfy Saturday outfits, when you’d sit on the couch and write or doodle while he watched some sport lazily, your head on his shoulder and his heart in your hands. Your eyes met his, and they all but softened as he watched you recognize that it was him. You were by his side in a second, holding him down by his shoulders as he tried to sit up. “Don’t do that, Marc, you’re still healing.”

The events hit him like a truck. Being hurt, the man, Steven telling him to call you, the attack, blacking out.

“How am I alive right now?” Was the only thing he could get out of his mouth as you sighed. “From what I know, Jake took over and called me. I managed to get you to the hospital because I didn’t think I’d be able to patch you up,” you sucked in a breath harshly, and Marc’s hand met yours with a squeeze of support, of sorry. “I was so scared, Marc. There was so much blood and even Jake was barely managing to get his words out–”

“Hey,” He winced, but still moved his hand to cup your jaw and grab your gaze. “I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.”

You snorted. “Shoulda thought about that before you tried to walk home while bleeding out of your fucking abdomen.”

“I thought I could get home.”

“Yeah, good going on—“ you stopped abruptly, taking a deep breath and recentering your mindset. “I’m sorry, Marc. I’ve just been worried about you and everything that happened, and I couldn’t do anything about your wound and sitting in that waiting room— which felt like an asylum with how white it was— for what felt like years for the doctors to help you was the most anxiety inducing thing I’ve ever experienced. But it’s okay, you’re fine, I’m fine, everything is gonna be fine.”

Marc’s thumb brushed tenderly across your cheekbone to catch fallen tears, brows knit in worry. “You’re right, I’m here.”

“Please,” your voice was a whisper as you lent into his hand. “Please never do that to me again.”

“I won’t.”

“Please, I know it's hard to ask for help. I know real well from experience that it’s hard. But it’s worth it. It’s worth it not to watch you attached to whatever the fuck they put you on in the hospital, not to collapse onto the ground a block away in excruciating pain. Right?”

“Right.” Marc nodded.

“I love you.” You said those words as if you could lift any of his worries and insecurities and carry them into the sky above.

“I love you too.” His hand slid to cup the back of your neck, pulling you down to meet his smiling lips.

[askinkiskarma]

The Archer | Chapter VII: Epiphany

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: You and Neteyam fight for your lives and the lives of the people you both love, as the war with the humans finally comes to your doorstep.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 10k words

Warnings/notes: angst (lots and lots of angst), mentions of death, blood, violence, cursing, spoilers (!!) for ATWOW

A/N: I APOLOGISE PROFUSELY.

Epiphany is the song that drove this whole series, it was the song that made me want to write The Archer, and the chapter that the song deals with is finally here. I feel incredibly sad at the thought of this series ending in a couple of chapters, as it has been literally the only thing on my mind since I started it, more than 2 months ago. I hope you enjoy, and don't hate me too much, I promise I'll make it up to you x

↳ *Spotify playlist* ༉‧₊˚✧

Keep your helmet, keep your life, son, just a flesh wound, here's your rifle

Crawling up the beaches now, “Sir, I think he's bleeding out"

And some things you just can't speak about

With you, I serve, with you, I fall down, down

Watch you breathe in, watch you breathing out, out

Neteyam had a flurry of messy thoughts percolating around his mind as he was following Lo’ak towards Three Brothers Rocks, where they knew Payakan was. He looked behind him where Tsireya, Ao’nung and Rot’xo, as well as Kiri and Tuk were following suit and worry overwhelmed him at what could be coming. He should calm himself, he thought. It’s all going to be alright, what are the chances the humans would go after Payakan, and the chances that this would happen now, when they were all going? What were the chances this would happen while his baby sisters were with them, anyway? They would all be alright… they all had to be alright. This world took so much from his family, from him, so much suffering and agony he had to live through, more than anyone should ever have to. His thoughts shifted towards his mother, his beautiful, kind and caring mother, who had to watch her sister, the future Tsa’hik, killed by humans, as were her father, her friend and former betrothed, her mentor, her home. Eywa wouldn’t be so cruel as to take more from her, she couldn’t. 

He didn’t have time to dwell on the unfairness of the Universe, not when Payakan quickly came into view before them, showing Lo’ak the pinger deeply inserted in the thick skin on his side. Fuck. 

Lo’ak quickly jumped on his spirit brother’s fin and started pulling at the rod, with little avail. He watched in horror as a massive ship turned a corner and came fully into view, and with a last thought to you, and your agonising last conversation, he allowed adrenaline to take over him and move him towards where his brother was. He had to do this. 

“Bro, come on, help me out! Hurry, the ship’s coming.” 

Neteyam reached a hand out to Ao’nung and saw the rest of them get onto the tulkun, starting to pull harder on the pinger that refused to budge, no matter the effort. They needed help. They needed their parents, they needed the Metakyina. He needed you. His hand mindlessly reached to the spot where he usually keeps his transmitter, and cursed loudly when he realised he forgot his radio at home. He looked at Lo’ak and felt relief wash over him when he saw that he was wearing his. 

“Call dad. Call it in. Call dad, now!” Lo’ak wasn’t moving, so Neteyam grabbed him roughly by the arm and pulled him upwards. “Just go, do it!! Just do it!” 

Neteyam couldn’t hear Lo’ak over the noise of everybody he was with screaming in pain trying to get this done, and, trusting his brother with the task at hand, he returned to his own, trying to figure out the best way to get everyone out of this mess. 

“Dad, dad, I mean… Devil Dog, do you read me?” 

Lo’ak’s voice pulled you out of your agonised thoughts, reeling after your dad’s message that just came maybe about a minute ago, and you gasped at confirmation there were still fine, that you still had time. 

“Yeah, Lo’ak?” Jake’s voice sounded concerned, and you wondered briefly if he already knew, knew the danger currently facing their children, if he could feel it instinctually, like you could, deep within your soul. 

“We’re with a…tulkun that’s under attack. Killer ships inbound, it’s about 2 klicks out.”

“Who’s with you?”

“It’s all of us, and Ao’nung and Tsireya, too. We’re at Three Brothers Rocks.”

“You get to cover and you do not engage, alright? Do you hear me? Do not engage. We’re coming.” 

“Yes, sir.” 

“Devil Dog, Eagle Eye, I’m on route, maybe 10 minutes out. I’m with Neyn, I’m coming. Over and out.”

“Hurry.” 

Gideon watched as commotion happened all around him, all units ready to start their assault on the innocent tulkun. He got his gun out and looked at Quartich and the rest of the Recoms, almost drooling with excitement over seeing the Sully kids, knowing they were so close to finally completing their mission, and more importantly, finally exacting the revenge they have dreamt about since the first breath they took in this new body, this new life. 

Concern was deeply imbedded in him, in his mind and soul, and he watched through the scope of his gun for the kids who were struggling to pull out the pinger reflecting red light onto the skin of the huge animal they were sitting on. Just fucking leave, just leave. She’s never going to forgive me if anything happens to you, so just leave. 

Gideon was screaming internally at the scene unfolding in front of him, screaming silently at these kids who seemed to have a death wish, who were so irresponsible, his paternal instincts were kicking in full tilt, ready to give them an ass kicking of a lifetime if they all managed to survive this. He’s in this now, he realises briefly. He’s in this. His daughter’s family, potentially his family if any of them manage to ever forgive him for a lifetime of sins he was willing to work his ass off to repent for - all in danger, all risking their lives for this being, knowing full well what is waiting for them if the people on this ship catch them. Is this what it means? To be Na'vi, to live on this planet? Is this how interconnected everything here is, that despite knowing better, despite knowing the dangers that lie ahead, they would be willing to die for another soul? Is this what it meant to see?

“Let’s roll.” He watched as Quaritch got onto his ikran, alongside Weinfleet, and took off, at the same time that the boats armed with people and harpoons hit the water, speeding towards the tulkun. Shit.

He had to wait for his moment, had to wait for a distraction, otherwise he would die before he got the chance to help in anyway. His eyes moved towards the human kid next to him, looking scared and anxious, looking how Gideon was feeling. They exchanged a knowing look. It was time. Time for both of them to go where they truly belonged, to go home. Gideon nodded slowly in his direction. Wait for my mark. Spider was trained by a soldier, that much was true, and the man appreciated Jake Sully’s influence and role in raising these kids a little bit more. He allowed himself to hope, for a second, that it would all work out. These weren’t just normal kids. These were warriors. Ready for battle, raised for the inevitable war that would come to their doorsteps once more sooner or later. If anyone could do this, it’s them. 

Neteyam felt exhausted as he was sitting on top of his ilu, the feeling mirrored across the bond from the effort the animal was putting into pulling the pinger out of Payakan. He felt so bad for his aquatic friend, but knew the sooner they removed it, the more time they had to get away. His parents were on the way, so he knew they would be alright, that his sisters would be alright, but the sight of boats approaching them rapidly made the sound of his heart echo painfully in his ears. 

“Pull harder!”

“PULL!” 

He was thrown forwards as the contraption finally fell in the water, and he took a second, just one second to be proud of the work they did, to be happy they would be able to save the tulkun. Cringing a little at the thought of what you would do at his next words, he spoke:

“Come on, get out of here. Go that way, I will draw them out.” He took off without a second glance, once again the sacrificial lamb for his family. He wouldn’t have it any other way. 

An explosion almost took him out, deep ringing in his ear and confusion all around as the ilu tried to understand what was going on around them. He knew, all too well, the power of the human mind, the guns and bombs that were made for mass murder, made for annihilation. He recovered and tried to calm his pal, propelling through water, trying to put as much distance as he could between the blinking device and his family, who took cover in the deep underwater flora at the bottom of the sea. When it was far enough, he let it go, watching as it sank, and moved along, trying to hide before it was too late. They had no weapons, no bows, or arrows, no spears or guns, they were defenceless against the most powerful enemy they were ever going to face. All they could do was hide and wait for their parents to come, for you to come. He didn’t want you here, amidst all of this. He was terrified of the consequences of your fight, but a lot more so of the consequences of this fight. He wanted you as far away from it as possible, but he knew you better than to ask you, to expect that you would stay away. And deep within him, he was relieved. He could do this with you by his side. He needed you, as he always did, to be his light and show him the way out of this. No matter what changes between you, this never will. 

You broke through the clouds and the Three Brothers Rock came swiftly into view, and it was impossible to not see the massive ship taking up most of your line of sight. You brought your hand to your radio and pushed the little button, hands trembling in fear and the adrenaline rushing through your veins. 

“Devil Dog, I’ve got visual on the ship. I’m about one klick away south of it. I see a big ship, 5 boats, I see…fuck… I see Quaritch and Weinfleet on their ikran. Shit, shit. They got someone, it’s Lo’ak. And Tuk, and I think Tsireya. They’re bringing them to the ship. I’m going in.” 

“No! Do not engage, do you read me, Quickscope? Do not engage. Sit on your ass, we’re a few minutes out.”

You growled loudly at Jake’s voice, not answering him. You pressed the other button on your second choker. 

“Dad, do you read me? I’m about a klick away from the ship. Please make sure they don’t hurt the kids, please, dad. I’m waiting for Jake and the Metkayina to arrive. Stand by. Over.” 

Gideon could only focus on your voice so much as he watched Quaritch drag 3 kids onto the ship, one of which was holding on for dear life to the net his siblings were caught in. As soon as Spider caught wind of the scene, he ran for dear life towards the door where they were, pushing anybody unlucky enough to stand in his way, and Gideon found himself running with him, trying to stop him, as well as having to see this for himself, having to make sure the kids will be alright. He recognised the boy and the little girl from the forest, and the man now knew they were called Lo’ak and Tuk. You spent a lot of your time last night talking about them, your almost maternal care for Tuk very obvious even in the short time you spent with him. Lo’ak was hissing at the men encircling him, threatening with a knife, that he had to know was futile against the army surrounding them. 

“Stop, don’t hurt them!” He caught Spider and kept him back, to stop him from hurting himself and the others with his recklessness. 

“Calm, kid.” He whispered as he held him. “Calm, we’ve got this.” 

“Bro, you’re ok?” 

“Yeah…great, cuz. Never better.” If he wasn’t so fucking tense, Gideon might have cracked a smile at the kid now laid flush on the ground, but still cracking jokes. He liked him.

“Get back to the bridge.” Gideon gave Spider to some of the humans all around them, as Quaritch dismounted from his ikran. “Keep him there!” 

“Yeah… I remember you.” The boy was hissing in Quaritch’s direction, no fear or hesitation in his eyes. Either he was really brave, or really really dumb. Very often the line is very thin, Gideon thought.

“Tie them to the rail, all of them.”

All of a sudden, he was painfully aware of the weight of the knife tucked in a sheath on his waist, and Gideon knew he had to wait for the right time to be able to break the kids free and get them to safety. He wondered briefly if you were watching, if you were seeing what was happening, if you hated how your own father wasn’t doing anything yet. 

Your thoughts were all scattered between worry for your siblings who you knew were currently on the ship, but you couldn’t see them anymore, too far away from any clear view, paralysing fear wondering where Neteyam was, and anxiety over having to wait for Jake and the Metkayina. You were circling the rocks, waiting, when you saw Neytiri on her Ikran. You sighed a big sigh of relief, and reached your fingers to your forehead when she spotted you. “I see you, sa’nok.”

You heard noises and ululating beneath you and finally saw the sea of orange Tsurak making their way toward the ship. Almost on command, you saw them all stop and fall in line. Jake…

You felt bad that the one thing he tried so hard to avoid, the one thing he didn’t want, the calamitous fight for his life, for his children’s life, for his family, has come with thunderous power, ready to overtake him, ready to overtake you all. You wondered if he was getting flashbacks to almost 20 years ago, wondered if you would too in 20 years after today, if you were to survive this. You came too close to death too many times, and watched people you love hug it tightly before willing it away, and you prayed over and over that death wouldn’t hold on to anyone you loved ever again, not for a long time. 

“Jake.” A voice you have heard once before, enough to never want to hear it again, enough to give you nightmares sounded gravely in your ears. “Tell your friends to stand down. You want your kids back, you come out alone. You know better than to test my resolve.”

You hissed loudly and wanted to speak, but you knew he would be able to hear you, and right now you had an advantage, they didn’t know you were here, didn’t know you had an ikran. 

“I took you under my wing, Jake. You betrayed me. You killed your own, good men, good women. I will not hesitate to execute your kid.” 

It was clear to you right in that second that Quaritch did not play around, and he was not bluffing. His voice was unflinching, angry, seething and you knew he meant every word he said. Lo’ak… Tuk… 

Fear was overtaking your every thought, overtaking the adrenaline fighting to keep you going. You were outnumbered, outgunned, and out-prepared. They had ships, helos, boats, machine guns, harpoons, grenade launchers. They had Ikrans, and they had the kids. You had no leverage that you could reasonably see. How were you ever going to get out of this alive? How were they going to get out of this alive? 

Neteyam… 

“Just… wait one.” 

“Offer’s going to expire. What’s it gonna be?” 

“Check your fire. I’m coming out.” 

No. No. No. 

You looked at Neytiri, confusion plastered all over her face, both of you just flying around aimlessly, waiting for your shot. Did she understand what was going on? Were there any words to explain it to her? 

“Ma Jake, what is happening? Ma Jake?” Realisation hit and so did the tears, both of yours, softly trickling down her face, swimming painfully in your eyes. 

Gideon watched Jake Sully make his way on the back of a fish, a very big fish. His nerves were eating him alive - what was he supposed to do? He was outnumbered, wildly outnumbered. Even if he managed to kill Quaritch and maybe Weinfleet, there were still half a dozen other Recoms, not to mention tens of soldiers in exo-suits. Maybe it would provide enough of a distraction, but it wouldn’t guarantee the kids getting out of here safely. The thoughts of going out in a blaze of glory, saving his daughter and her family intrigued him, but he couldn’t go without talking to you at least one more time. There was still so much to say. He had so much to learn. He still had so much to make up for. 

Gideon had little time to continue his thoughts, as he felt the ship shake slightly, and he couldn’t help wonder for a second if they were getting caught in some sort of quake. His mind froze, as did his body, as the sight unfolding before him. The tulkun, breaching over the ship and landing on top of a few humans wearing exo suits while they screamed and tried to shoot it, to no avail. Shit way to go. 

Mayhem emerged all around him, and he realised then this was his chance, when he saw Jake approaching the ship, the full force of the Metkayina close behind. He hurried back inside the ship, trying to make his way towards the middle pool, where most of the humans resided. He pulled out his knife and stabbed the soldiers posted in the doorway, whistling to Spider to follow him. He gave him the spare knife he had on him. 

“Ready to get out of here, kid?” 

Your breath hitched in your throat watching Payakan trash any and every enemy on sight, and knowing this was the chance you were waiting for, the opportunity of a lifetime, you wasted no time getting out the handgun that you were threatening your dad with just a few hours ago, now speeding at lightning speed in order to save his and the rest of your family’s life. God, how fast the night changes.

“Let’s go, sweet girl.” 

Neyn let out a scream, and you joined, battles cries blending with the ones vocalised by Neytiri and the Reef Clan. 

You bolted towards one of the airborne helos, willing Neyn to remove the shooter from the door with her massive claws, which stabbed him in the abdomen and dropped in the water. You barrel rolled in the air and came face to face with the pilot, which you shot straight in the head. 

“Good girl.” 

There wasn’t much you could do without your weapons, so after killing as many people as you could using Neyn as an extension of your own body, you settled for the big ship, knowing Lo’ak, Tuk, Tsireya, Spider and your dad still needed a way out. Your plans were quickly turned to dust when you spotted Weinfleet on his own ikran, barreling towards you, shooting at you with no end in sight. Let’s see if Tuk was right about me. “We’ve got this, girl.” 

Neyn gracefully executed every command you gave her, dodging every bullet by the skin of your teeth, performing acrobatics you weren’t even sure you could, and you felt yourself becoming dizzy at the strenuous effort. You needed to save Neyn, no matter what, and the assault was unrelenting, and you felt yourself losing focus, which didn’t bode well for either of you.

Neyn, listen to me. When I jump, you go. Just get away and hide among the Three Brothers Rocks. I’ll call you when it’s safe. You felt restrain in her, pushing against your thoughts, against your wishes. She wanted to protect you, as much as you did her. 

I’ll be alright, sweet girl. But I can’t be if anything happens to you. 

Without a second thought, you undid your Tsaheylu and jumped in the water, bracing for the impact. You needed a second to adjust to the new environment, and tried to see if you could find an ilu anywhere. You called for one, all the while praying silently that Neyn got away safely. You avoided all the explosions and debris falling all around you, and got scared half to death when a blue form appeared swiftly, no doubt hearing your call. You almost gasped when you saw who it was, and had to try to settle your booming heart - Neteyam. 

“Need a ride?” He signalled, smiling a small, sorrowful smile, one that despite everything, was still glowing and glorious, even here, underwater, even in these circumstances.

“Yes, please.” 

His hand reached out for yours, and when you touched him, it felt like you came back to life. Like you would be alright. As long as his warm hand was holding yours, there was nothing you couldn’t overcome. You mounted the ilu behind him, and he placed his right hand on your thigh, holding you close, making sure you were secure. You wrapped your arms tightly around his torso and placed your head on his back, and for a second, just a second, it felt like all was good in the world again, and you were reminded again of how, whenever you were together, it felt like it was just the two of you, this whole world just your own personal playground. 

He took off hurriedly, and you made your way to the ship, the mission at hand coming back into focus at full speed. The ship was moving away from you two, and Neteyam saw in shock how it got lifted from the water and then collapsed back on top of it, sending ripples all around you, making the ilu scared and jittery. He had to hurry. His hand tightened around your thigh, and the feeling of your body flush against him made his mind finally focus, his purpose clear as day again. He had to save you and his family. That was his purpose, has been his whole life. He was still so mad at you, so hurt and anguished at your seemingly unfixable problem, but right now, more than anything, he was just grateful you were here. Everything else can come later. 

You tapped him on the shoulder and he saw you pointing upwards towards the surface, and he saw the side of the ship come into view. This was it. You held on tightly while the ilu launched out of the water and you both jumped, climbing onto the railings and right next to his siblings and Tsireya. He heard you let out a big gasp to let in the air you had to deprive yourself from underwater. 

Tuk’s voice brought his attention back to the task at hand. “NETEYAM! SISTER!” 

“Tuk-tuk, we’re here.” As you went to Tuk and Tsireya and let them loose using your knife, Netetam turned to Lo’ak.

“Hey, baby brother, you need some help?” 

When his sister was unbound, Neteyam turned to you. “Get Tuk out of here.” 

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Right, Neteyam.” He watched irately as you turned to Tsireya. “Get Tuk out of here.” 

“Bro, HURRY UP!” He did as his brother asked, not being able to resist teasing him while at it. “Who’s the mighty warrior? Come on, say it.”

While Lo’ak was rubbing his wrists with his fingers, trying to alleviate some of the pain of being shackled, you picked up an SMG from the floor and made sure it was loaded. 

“Finally. It’s like I was missing an arm back there.” 

“Come on, let’s go.” Neteyam was turning to leave, needing to be rid of this place as soon as humanly possible. 

“You guys go ahead. I have to find my dad.” 

Neteyam saw Lo’ak give you a strange look, and he realises that his baby brother didn’t know, nobody knew about the meeting between you and your dad. Neteyam still didn’t know what happened at that meeting, but something had to, if you were willing to risk your life for him. Lo'ak turned back towards his brother.

“And they got Spider. We have to get him. Come on.” 

“No, Lo’ak. You go. I will get Spider and my dad. I don’t want you here.” 

Neteyam gave you both a hard look, growling at the insanity of what you were asking of him, of each other, of yourselves. 

“Sullys stick together.” 

You made your way through the ship that was slowly sinking, killing anybody that stood in between you and your goal. You were trained for this, you were ready. You didn’t like killing, didn’t revel in it, but as you came face to face with the men that willingly or unwillingly killed the tulkun and her calf, that took your family hostage, that were threatening everything you held dear to your heart, there was no hesitation in your aim, in your resolve. You went first, Lo’ak followed and Neteyam was last, gun in hand, covering your six o’clock. You were a bundle of nerves thinking of the two, worrying for them. You didn’t want them here, you wanted to know them safe and away from all of the dangers lurking on every corner of this ship, but you also understood that if the situation was reversed, you would have never left them, either. You were all in this together, have been since your birth. 

You were crawling on top of the bars connecting the ceiling of the ship, trying to stealth your way through the more populated area, until you saw your dad and Spider, fighting half a dozen guys in exo suits. You dropped on the floor,  shooting a couple in the head and you watched as Neteyam and your dad took care of the other four. 

“Kid!” 

“Spider!” 

Your dad came to you and cupped your face in his large hand, the other one checking for any injuries. He held you at arms length and turned you around and looked at your back, your abdomen, your arms. You felt tears pooling in your eyes at the gesture, feeling your heart beating loudly in your chest. He was worried about you. Your dad was worried about you. 

“You’re ok. Thank God you’re ok.” 

You wanted to keep your distance, wanted to be harsh and aloof, but the weight of everything that you were going through came crashing down on you like a badly timed wave that crushed you under its weight, and you felt yourself closing the gap and giving him a hug. 

“Dad!” You heard his gasp and he took in the interaction, and you felt his arms circling you, wrapping them around your back and reciprocating the hug that you have both needed all your lives. 

“I’m here, kid. I’m here.” 

It took a while for the next few moments to register in your mind. You heard a noise, and as you opened your eyes previously buried in your father’s chest, you saw a big metal door push open and an outbreak of humans with guns came rushing in, shooting at you and your family. You heard the deep haunting noises of shots fired, of people screaming, you saw blood pouring out of the men’s faces, bodies, you felt your dad push you out of the way and turning around to finish the job and as your mind came back to you, your first thought was of Spider,  Lo’ak and Neteyam, and you turned around to make sure they were all alright. Spider’s arm was grazed by a bullet and he was bleeding, and you screamed, hurrying to his side. The wound looked superficial, and relief washed over you. Neteyam and Lo’ak were fine. They were fine. They were fine. 

A cough and a small thud were all you heard as you took in your family’s horrified looks. Your breath was shallow in fearful anticipation as you turned around, and saw blood pouring out of your dad’s mouth in short, saccadic bursts. You stood there, frozen in time and space, unable to think or move, unable to understand the clear situation displayed in front of you.

“Atan…” 

“Angel! Do something!” Lo’ak was shaking you now, trying to get you out of your catatonic state, and at the sound of yet another cough and a big splatter of blood getting everywhere over your dad’s clothes, you felt something snap in you, and you rushed to his side, looking at the damage. 

No. No no no no. This wasn’t real. This couldn’t be real. 

Your dad’s back took the bulk of the assault, and as you traveled your hand over his wounds and felt him wince slowly, felt his trembling body, you knew he didn’t have time. You knew then there was little you could do. Tears were spilling out your eyes and onto your wandering hands, and you knew that despite everything, you had to try. You had to try, because you needed time. He needed time. You just got him back. You needed time. 

You took your knife from your waist and cut his ammo vest, jacket and shirt, exposing his back, that looked red and festering, blooding gushing out of every wound like an artisanal fountain. You needed to stop the bleeding, so you took the shirt he was wearing and cut it into strips, tightly wrapping them around him. 

Think. Think. Think.

“Neteyam, help me tighten this. Keep him upright, I need to call for Neyn. I have supplies on her. I need to get him out of here.” 

You heard loud thuds and shots fire at big metal doors on the other side, and you knew whatever was coming was even worse. They were about to break through, and you moved your dad behind cover, gun in hand, making sure to reload it. You didn’t know what to do, how to go about this, your entire being screaming for you to get your dad out of this burning, sinking hole and onto safe ground, where you could save him. You needed them all to leave - to live. You were scrambling for ideas, looking frantically all around you, when Neteyam came kneeling next to you, holding your face in his hands.

“You have to go. Now. Just go. Call Neyn and go, we have your back. We will meet you after.”

You shook your head violently, soft sobs escaping your parted lips. 

“I can’t leave you. I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. We can do this, Atan. I taught you everything you know, remember? We can do this. We’ll cover for you, when I tell you it’s safe, you and your dad go through those doors and leave. We’ll be right behind you as soon as this is over.” 

Loud bangs were interrupting your already scattered thoughts, and without further arguing, you nodded. 

“Neteyam, I’m…-“

His lips smashed aggressively into yours, and you cried in the kiss, pouring your overwhelming emotions into it, into him, pouring the unspoken apologies and love you wanted to shout at the top of your lungs, but couldn’t. 

“I know. Me too. We’ll talk. When I say, you go. Deal?”

“Deal.”

You turned to your dad, hand scrambling to erase the tears mercilessly falling down your face. 

“Can you do this, dad?” He nodded, deep pain clear all over his face while he tried to position himself so he would be able to run at Neteyam’s signal.

Neteyam watched as two Avatars and enough humans with exo-suits that they were easily outnumbered pushed through the doors, guns blazing. He looked at your meek, exhausted form, drenched to the elbows in your dad’s blood, and he couldn’t help the sadness that enveloped him at the realisation you would have to watch your dad’s dead body once more in this lifetime, the Universe once again choosing you to bear the weight of this whole world on your shoulders, despite everything else you have had to endure. He was reeling at the hurt you were about to bear once again, at how much this was going to affect you, was going to undo all the healing you have worked so hard for. Why does everything have to happen to you? 

He got his gun out and shot three of the men making their way towards them, and saw Lo’ak do the same. He wishes he had his bow and arrows - he was proficient with these guns, thanks to your help teaching them, but it still felt unnatural, wrong to him. He didn’t have time to be fussy about it, the problem in front of him much too important for such trivial matters. When he saw an opening as he shot yet another man, he shouted at you.

“NOW! Go go go!” 

You got out onto the deck and let out a wailing cry, trying to summon your banshee that would have been waiting for your call. Soon enough, you saw her, flapping her wings majestically as she landed on the railing of the ship. 

“Dad, you have to move, please. Please, I know it hurts, but I need you to try.” 

You helped him as much as you could. He wasn’t speaking, just taking big breaths, trying to keep conscious. You could tell how well trained he was, what a soldier he had been. There was no sound coming out of him, no cry, no wail, no scream. Nothing, quiet as the dead of night as he suffered unimaginable pain and his almost nonchalant exterior made your torment even worse. It would be easier to digest if he was showing signs of suffering, but brave as he was - it all just made you feel worse, it made your heart ache so hard the broken shards were stabbing you from the inside out. 

Eventually, you got him on Neyn and you took off, aiming for some of the rocks you could see in the distance. They were flat and tucked away from the fight still happening around you. Your mind was mush, being split in so many directions between your fear and hurt and the anxiety you felt thinking about your dad, about what you left behind on the ship, worrying yourself sick at the thought of Neteyam and your siblings fighting humans with metal armours protecting them, shooting to kill. Should you have stayed? Should you have left your dad on the ship and stayed with them and fight with them? It felt like an impossible choice either way, one you had no brain power to think about further without collapsing. 

As soon as you landed, you got to work, dismounting him and placing him as gently as you could on the ground, hurrying back to your emergency medical bag, that you always, always had on your ikran, and placed it next to him. 

As you hovered on top on him, getting supplies, you felt his hand wrap around your wrist, weakly, like he could barely manage even that. 

“Kid… stop.” 

Your bottom lips quivered, eyes glancing to his face. He looked…peaceful. Content. A small smile was adorning his beautiful face, now laced with sweat and blood and he squeezed your wrist to the best of his abilities.

“No. I can do this. I can save you.”

“You already have, kid. You have to stop now. It’s alright.” 

You let out a pained sob, shaking furiously now. 

“I just got you back. I can do this. Please.” 

“I grew up rich, did your mum ever tell you that? My parents were big shots back in the States, and I grew up going to the fanciest places, the best prep schools. I got accepted into Harvard early, about 2 years before I had to graduate, and I was on my way to continuing my dad’s…legacy, if you can call it that.” You listened attentively to his words, trying to absorb everything you could about this man you found and were about to lose again in the span of one day. “My mother, bless her, she was…a kind woman. Too kind. She was weak and was too scared to ever stand up to my dad. He was a bad man. A very bad man. I watched as he beat my mother my whole life, and watched as he did the same to me until I was old enough to stand up for myself. I was 13 when I smashed a bottle of Armagnac across his face. He told his business partners it was a skiing accident. I was a coward, for so long. I wanted to leave, so badly, I would have taken off at 13 if I could, but my mother did not want to leave, refused to leave no matter what, and I didn’t want to leave her. I was scared of what would happen to her if I left. 

She died, when I was 16. She killed herself. It’s fucked up, so fucked up, but when it happened…I was relieved. Because she didn’t have to suffer anymore - and neither did I. I left the day of her funeral, and never looked back.”

He was talking slowly, choking on every other word, his breathing shallow and weak, and by the noises he was making while he was inhaling, you knew his lung was collapsing. 

“Dad… you need to keep your strength. You don’t have to say anything.” 

“I do, kid. I do. I need to get this out. Please.”

“I joined the army, forged the documents to hide my age and that was that. I worked my way up and tried to make a new kind of legacy for myself. At first, I did it just to get away, but in time, I fell in love with the camaraderie of it. It felt for the first time in my life like I had a family. My squad was my family, and I would have done anything I could to save them, because they would have done the same for me. They were good people. My whole worldview changed. Everything. My desires and needs, my moral compass and principles. I knew nothing else.”

“I joined the army because I had to, because I had no other choice than to escape the hell I was brought in, the hell I carried with me everywhere I went. I joined the RDA because I had to do that, I had to try to save my daughter. I followed them into battle because it was my squad, it was the only truth I knew. My whole life, it felt like I had no choice. Like everything I did was cause it was forced upon me, cause I had to. But this, I can choose. I get to choose how I die this time. And I get to die for my daughter. I get to know my back, my body protected you from bullets that might have taken you out of this world, a world that needs you desperately.” 

“No, dad…” 

“I chose wrong the first time. I should have turned around at the first sight of the injustice, I should have joined your mother. I should have joined Jake. But I didn’t. I chose wrong, over and over. But now I get to choose right. And I am happy with that choice.” 

“I am so sorry, kid. So sorry for everything you had to suffer in this life, so sorry for everything I contributed to it. All my life, all I wanted was to be everything my father wasn’t, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t be better. And I am so sorry. I wanted nothing more than to see you grow up. Nothing more than to have been there to teach you, be there to love you. But I am satisfied with knowing I get to see you live, see you love a good man, who clearly loves you and will cherish you forever. And when you’ll have your own children, they’ll know your dad was more than a cowardly runt. I love you, kid. You and Sarah are the best things I have ever done, and I am sorry I couldn’t do better. And a really long time from now, when you see your mother again, tell her I love her. That I love her more than life itself, and whatever eternity awaits for me, she will always be there to guide me through it.” 

Your vision was blurred now, so many tears inundating your every sense, making a mess of your spinning world, swiftly falling apart around you. You saw his eyes flutter closed and he let out a final breath that felt like he had been holding in his whole entire life. Your hand went to his face, that you caressed gently. 

“You tell her yourself, dad.” 

Neteyam knew they couldn’t continue for much longer the way they were. They had to leave. No matter how much they were pushing back, more and more people swarmed in and he knew they were going to be overtaken soon. He needed an opening and he needed to get his siblings out of here. He poked his head out and shot a few more people and screamed at Lo’ak, who was more than holding his own, hidden from view next to Spider thanks to a plank behind Neteyam. Neteyam couldn’t help be proud of his baby brother, who has blossomed into a great warrior, a great fighter, a good man in the storm. 

“Lo’ak, Spider, we have to go. The door behind you, where she left through. You run when I tell you and jump straight in the water, am I clear?”

“Bro, you sound like dad.” 

Neteyam pointed the gun without coming out from the cover and shot, firing as many bullets as possible, trying to cause the distraction needed for them to be able to run away. He didn’t think about anything else other than his baby brother when he screamed in their direction. 

“GO GO GO!” 

He continued firing until the last second, relieved when he saw the two boys jumping into water to safety, and then, trusting in his Na’vi skills, he ran as fast as his feet could carry him out the door, dodging the bullets landing all around him. 

He heard it before he felt it. The squelching sound of flesh and blood, the muffled thud as the bullet pierced his skin and travelled across his body, the soft clink when it dropped from his chest onto the cold, hard floor of the ship. Then he felt it. Physical pain like he’s never experienced before, radiating and throbbing through his entire being. He could feel it in his throat, in his toes, at the tips of his fingers. He could feel his heart, pumping hard and fast, could feel the blood spilling out rhythmically, with every heartbeat that was so loud and clear, it was like his heart was exposed for the whole world to see. It might as well be, Neteyam couldn’t tell. 

It all happened so fast, he felt his thoughts process in slow motion. He thought about you. You were always the first thought on his mind, but specifically now, specifically after he imagines you had to watch your dad die in front of you, had to put him down to sleep, just like you have your mother. The hurt he felt in his body was nothing compared to his soul, thinking about you needing to bury yet another loved one, you needing to say goodbye to him. He couldn’t do that to you. 

“Neteyam, I can’t lose you. Losing you will kill me. It will break me worse than anything else I have ever gone through, and so you can’t die. Ever. And you can’t take stupid risks like that. I can’t lose you.”

“Neteyam, if you die, I will too.”

He had to live, he had to be ok, for you. For his brother, who would blame himself, as he always did, for his dad, who would also blame his brother. For his baby sister, who looked at him like a second father, like he was the mightiest warrior to ever live, who was much too young to have to understand what it truly means to be alive, how much loss you must go through in this life before you eventually lose yourself. He had to live for Kiri, who was sweet and gentle, and needed her big brother to be there for her when the world got a big too much for her liking. He had to live for his mother, who much like you, has lost too much, too soon, more than anyone ever should have to. His mother, who had to say goodbye to her whole world, there was no way she should have to say goodbye to her firstborn son. 

He faintly recognised hitting the water, which did wonders for the wound that was being cleaned with every undulation and ripple, and he noticed the way it quickly turned from serene blue to ominous maroon. He heard Lo’ak call for an ilu and was surprised when Tsireya made her way to them, happy to have been reunited with her favourite new person. 

“Get on.” 

“Come on, bro.” Neteyam was struggling staying conscious already, feeling his mind slipping up at the continuous loss of blood. 

Fuck. Come on. You can do this, Neteyam. You can do this. You can’t leave them. You can’t give up.

“Skxawng, I’m shot.” He heard nothing as deep silence enveloped his family swimming around him. Eventually, it all came clear into focus as Lo’ak cursed loudly, asking for Spider and Tsireya to help him onto the ilu. He tried to prop himself up behind his brother as best he could, and he saw Tsireya staying behind, saying something about Kiri and Tuk that Neteyam couldn’t process in his current state, not anymore. 

Neteyam was heaving by the time they got to safety, unable to hear or understand anything around him, unable to focus on anything outside of his panted breaths and painful heartbeat, that was struggling to pump the blood that was still remaining in his body. The whole world was blurred and shaky and the only thought fluttering through him was you. Where were you? He needed you, needed you to tell him it was all going to be alright, needing his light to lead him out of the darkness quickly enveloping him and back to you, back to the forest and to your clearing, back to stolen glances and wishful touches, back to when the hardest part about his life was figuring out how he could ever resist you, how he would ever stop loving the beautiful, intelligent, incredible human girl that he could never have. He’d give anything to have that back, anything to make that his biggest problem. Because if he could go back, he would have never waited. He would have kissed you, like you wanted to be kissed, like Dean kissed Rory in that Gilmore Girls episode you loved. He would have confessed to you the first time he realised he was so irrevocably in love with you, in your bed, when you said his name in your sleep. He would have kept you and cared for you and eased your pain instead of adding to it, like he couldn’t help doing, despite his strenuous efforts otherwise. 

If he could, he would tell you he forgives you, and he doesn’t blame you for the fight. He would go back and tell you that it bothered him months ago, and listened to you as you poured out your heart to him and the insecurities that plagued you, and you would have worked through it together in time. He would tell you how sorry he is, that this world and his upbringing made him the way he was, that he was unable to speak of the things that dwelled deep within his soul and nested there, festering and hurting until they exploded in him, and he exploded around you. He is sorry for all the wasted time, for the year you spent apart. He would tell you he’ll always regret calling you a coward, always regret leaving you in that meadow where you died, only to be found by his dad and not him. It should have been him. If he could, he’d scream that there’s nothing in this world that he would change when it comes to you, and this once-in-a-universe love you shared. He would tell you that despite the fights, and the struggles, and the messy past, and the unknown future, you will always be his most formidable happenstance, the best thing he has ever known, the person he has loved the most, and your eyes will always be the beacon he carries with him to whatever lies beyond. 

No words came out. 

You finished cleaning your father’s wounds and your own bloodied hands when you heard commotion in the near distance on a different rock, and watched in horror as Jake was helping up Lo’ak and Spider. You didn't even have time to process your loss, yet another loss, when you saw a body being carried to the shore, carefully, like it was delicate china; your whole body halted as you took the scene in, as you realised the body was Neteyam’s. Almost robotically, you got up and got on Neyn, silently telling her where to go. She did as you told her, and in no time you made it, dismounting midair, not being able to wait for the landing. 

A second. That’s all it took for the world to fall apart around you, to burn to the ground, only the ashes of your past, present and future remaining. Just a second to see your mate’s shaking body, his family circling him, kneeling next to him. A second to hear Jake telling Lo’ak to put pressure on the wound, a second to see that blood was pouring out at both the entry and the exit point of the bullet, meaning it passed through his whole body. A second to realise the bullet was just above his heart, which meant it probably hit his aorta or pulmonary artery, in which case he would be bleeding out in front of your eyes, with nothing you can do to stop it - yet again. 

A second for your whole life to flash before your eyes, for every one of the million moments you spent together to appear in front of you like a film reel on a screen. Sleeping in the same crib from when he was born, just a couple of months after you. Sharing food as babies, throwing it at each other, feeding each other. Wearing his little loincloth as a toddler so you could sleep peacefully when he wasn’t there. Tugging at his little braids because they sounded pretty when the wind blew the beads in them against each other. Your first peck on the lips when you were both six as your parents laughed and said in another life, in a different life, you were meant to be together forever, that you were soulmates. Your first hike when you were 8, when he taught you how to climb trees and caught you when you fell from a couple meters up, straight into his much bigger body. His ninth birthday when you worked really hard to bake him a human cake, but you put salt instead of sugar and he still ate it and told you it was delicious because he didn’t want to let you down - he never touched human food afterwards, though. Giving you the bracelet when you were ten, that you subconsciously raised your hand to feel right now, still tightly wrapped around you, like it always was. The day he left. The day he came back. Your first sleepover, the first night you looked at his lips and wondered what they would feel like against yours. Your first actual kiss, angry and passionate. Every one of your subsequent kisses, that you could see each of, along with every hug, every cuddle, and touch of the hand, every look of love and adoration, every night buried in each other. You saw it all. One second.  

“Atan.” His shaky, breathy voice pulled you out of your nightmare and into a fresh one, but you woke up and moved next to him. You had to do this, no matter how badly your entire being was telling you to run, telling you that if you watched him die, you would never in your life recover, you would never live again, you had to do this. You would never forgive yourself if you left right now. He needed you. You were his light, he's always told you as much; he needed you. You placed your hand on his wounds and pressed on it, and you felt his hand wrap around yours. 

“I’m here. I’m here. Just stay with me, please. I can fix this. I can fix it.” 

He tried to smile a little, but a grimace was the most he managed. 

“It’s alright, Atan. I want to go home.” 

No.

NO.

NO!

You were deep in thought, doing the math for all the solutions you were trying to make for the next steps in your set of experiments when you heard the door slide open. You paid no mind to it, as it was most likely one of the scientists and you didn’t want to lose track of all the hard work you have put in so far. It turns out, no matter how hard Max and Norm tried, math never came easy to you, and you felt cheated by how much of it you had to do for biological experiments. When a tiny groan came out from somewhere near the door, your eyes shot up to the voice you recognised better than your own and dropped the pen where you saw Neteyam standing there, blood pouring out of a wound on his chest.

“Oh, my God!” You rushed to his side, instantly forgetting about the thing you’ve spent the last hour trying to figure out, and tried to pull him towards the nearest chair. It was pointless, your effort, as his body, almost twice as large as yours and about ten times stronger, was still, no matter how hard you pushed. “Move, Neteyam.” 

“Stop worrying, Atan. It’s not that bad.” You blushed a little, the nickname that he gave you recently still fresh in your mind, still sending butterflies everywhere in your body. Light. He thought of you as his light. How were you supposed to be friends when he called you his light?!

“You skxawng, how did you manage to do that?” He sat down at last, groaning as the cold surface made contact with his bare thighs. You were out of your mind with worry, still not used to it, even after all this time, him going off on dangerous scouting and hunting missions and crawling back to you like this, bloody and bruised and in need of medical attention. He never went to Mo’at. He came to you. You wondered why that is. It couldn’t be cause he believed in the miracle of science more than his own grandmother, his Tsa’hik, so it must be something else. 

“I hunted, it hunted back.” You rolled your eyes at his desire to always keep these things from you, still thinking he’s protecting you from the outside world, from the dangers lurking on Pandora, like if he did, you would maybe be more likely to go out with him, instead of spending your entire life in this lab. 

“I thought you said you were going to be more careful.” 

“I was careful, Atan. These things happen at hunting parties.”

“Sure… it almost seems like they always happen to you. I’m starting to think you like the feel of the stitches on your skin.” 

He blushed a little and you raised an eyebrow. What’s that about?

“Let me go grab my stuff. I hope you know you have contaminated my work space and will now have to spend the rest of the day disinfecting everything, so you better be in a lot of pain.” 

He laughed, wincing a little as the action made his wound hurt more. You hurried, grabbing everything you need to patch him up, as you always did. 

He stood in silence as you worked, looking at you, which made the pounding in your ear, a mirror of your racing heartbeat, painful and impossible to ignore. You cleaned his wound and scratches on his arm, tracing his stripes, more pronounced than any other Omatikaya you’ve seen. It reminded you of Earth tigers, so majestic, so regal. 

“What are you thinking about?” He pulled you out of your reflections with his soft, deep voice and it was your cheeks felt hot, knowing you couldn’t possibly tell him the truth. 

“I was thinking that this wound on your chest is going to take forever to stitch if you don’t want a massive scar, so you better take a deep breath from that mask and settle in. We’re going to be here awhile.” 

He didn’t look too upset about it. 

It took a long time, but eventually you stitched everything that needed stitching, proud of your handy work, happy to know he will heal fine and there will not be anything marring his beautiful skin when this was over. You looked at him, and your eyes fell on his face, so close to yours, at the same level as yours as he was, plopped onto the chair, and then you noticed the gash on his lower lip, gulping loudly when you realised you had to treat that too. He looked at you curiously, and at your hands which were looking for some antiseptic cream. 

You didn’t look at him as you took a clean gauze, dipped it in water and gently applied pressure on the wound, that had dried blood all over it. You worked in silence, praying he couldn’t hear the thumping of your heart and how you kept having to swallow every few seconds. You applied the cream on his lip using your hand, and patted it down slowly. 

“Don’t lick your lips for a while, or you’ll take this off and the moisture will only make it worse.” You started turning around, needing a little space, but he caught your small wrist in his hand, arresting it in midair. 

“Thank you. Don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

You smiled at him, grateful for his presence in your life - now and always. Your eyes fell on his and then travelled to his lips, and your mouth opened slightly in need. You were both just sitting there, looking at each other, feeling things you had no business feeling, and when the pressure, the shift in the air was so intense it was palpable, you slowly lowered your arm and he let go. This couldn’t happen. 

You didn’t want this to continue being as awkward as it currently was, so you smiled again, your voice barely above a whisper.

 

“You’ll never have to find out.” 

“But next time, I am doing this with no anaesthesia, so you better think twice before you get yourself hurt again.” 

“As long as you are there to heal me, I will always be alright.” 

“NETEYAM! NETEYAM!” 

Neytiri’s wails were punching holes in your whole body, each one bloodier than the last. The final blow came from his eyes, vacant and glossed over. You looked at your hands, tightly placed on Neteyam’s now still, unmoving chest, drenched in his blood. You looked at his now cold hand, which let your wrist go and fall to the ground, and you felt empty. 

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @eternallyvenus @fresh-new-yoik-watah @lu-the-ghost-reader @@miawastakens @mm0thie @fanboyluvr @amortencjja

[illarian-rambling]

Thank you @whatwewrotepodcast @willtheweaver @tildeathiwillwrite and @elsie-writes for the tags! I always put this game off because it takes me a while, so they've kinda built up. Therefore, prepare yourself for the mother of all word tags

Find the Word Tag (Procrastinator Edition)

My words are: cut, scream, villain, blue, stream, error, crown, ash, smile, solo, beat, bring, stun, scuttle, shimmer, slave

Your words are: loan, contract, camp, command

I'm putting my faith in Honor's Outcasts book 1 for this

.

She was just putting the finishing touches on a shipment of enchanted diadems from Skysheer, weaving wards around the valuable cargo like a mother bird weaves a nest. Magic and energy flowed like thread from her dancing fingers, which were stained a washed-out umber in the wavering light of her old lantern. With a flourish, the girl cut the connection, finishing the spell and ensuring that anyone attempting to steal the prize within those cedar walls would have a nasty price to pay.

.

As the color deepened into a dark, bloody purple, a scream poured from the man's jaws. His flesh blackened and cracked under the baleful light as he clawed at his skin in vain. It was like the sparks were devouring him. Like he was made of paper instead of meat.

.

Twenari sighed, moving over to plop down onto their raggedy little settee. It wasn't like an argument was uncommon for the pair. Hell, she'd heard them argue over the color of a woman's hat once. A woman, she might add, who'd been standing right next to them in a bank queue, and whose blushing face had perfectly complimented her obviously blue hat.

.

Oh sure, from a distance it was all quite beautiful: the burbling stream, the heavy-boughed mangroves, the whispering reeds. But standing there - mosquitoes crawling up and down his legs, sweat prickling his scalp, skin itching where it had burnt in the sun days before - it all seemed a mundane little hell made just for him.

.

Izjik felt a sting in her side. Felt the pounding pressure in her skull. The sting grew into an ache, then a burning, then an agony. Looking down, she found the Sovereign’s offhand clutching the broken base of one of the spines that had made up her crown. The point, of course, was embedded in Izjik’s ribs.

.

"Come on, you heavy fuck!" Djek groaned as he pulled Sepo around a corner. His eyes streamed with ash and terror, turning the already blurry world into one big smear of orange light.

The suffocating heat was making his hands sweat, so Djek was forced to dig bloody grooves into Sepo’s wrist as he clung on by his nails alone. Blood still poured from the man's mouth, leaving a bubbling maroon trail behind them.

.

The woman leaned in towards her victim, her doll-faced smile still held in place. "Would you like to know why I really call Twenari my blessing?"

The man gave a small nod as Twenari released his neck muscles. Evidently, he was of the 'just agree to the demands and you'll be fine' school of thought.

Undeta gave a throaty, animal chuckle.

"Wrong answer."

.

"Where were you supposed to take Undeta’s daughter?"

Djek swallowed. "Under the tower, down in the old city sewers. We were supposed to hand her off to some higher-ups, split the money, then shove off."

<Well,> Sepo frowned, <then it looks like we need to find a way underneath this building. It seems Tyche will be doing a solo deal.>

.

Here it comes, Twenari winced. A beat later, the wave of nausea hit her, coupled with a bone-tugging fatigue. Only barely was she able to reform her sigil and reignite the glow. Her vision flickered and when she could see again, she was on her knees. Funny, she hadn't felt herself fall.

.

"You've known me for what, two months now? When have I never not been careful?"

Twenari pursed her lips. "That's not worthy of a response. I just wish you'd take me with you."

"You have to cover for me, you know that. Besides, it's probably going to be, like, super boring. All dusty scrolls and crusty old guys and shit."

"Boring to you maybe," Twenari sulked.

"Look, I'll bring you back a dusty scroll, how about that?"

"That's stealing and you're illiterate," the girl deadpanned.

"Huh, what's that? It sounded like disrespect." Izjik feigned cupping her ear. "Anyways, I'm going to be late. See you tonight! With details!"

.

Sepo obviously didn't have that option. He could switch between the mental and physical keys, meaning he could stun the unwary or excite the elements as he was doing now. And thank fuck he could also just manage a song of flesh carving.

.

Cursing again - this time in Janazi - Twenari spun her storm of orange slabs in a wide arc around the perimeter of the tent. Swords and less nimble drones went flying as the shields began a ferocious circuit around the tent's base. At that speed, their glow blended into one shimmering circle of fire. She didn't have enough to completely encircle it, but hopefully with the occasional change in rotation, the guards would at least be too pressed to make it through before Izjik finished.

.

Outside of her monotonous, yet carefully taxing routine, it wouldn't have taken long for Twenari to begin to pick up real skills. Deadly ones. And Undeta had no doubt that any group her daughter fell in with would end up wrapped around her finger. Talent was quite the asset, or liability, in that area. Inevitably, people would come to rely on you, and those who rely on you are just as good as slaves.

.

Wooo, we made it! I'll tag @kaylinalexanderbooks @cowboybrunch @modernwritercraft @hagscribes @halfbit and anyone else who wants to play :)

[atlasxspeaks]

I was thinking about all the blue-colored characters I like in media, and my brain went, "What if Spider was a mutant and looked/had power like Nightcrawler?" So here's that:

Both Paz and Quaritch have dormant X genes that get passed down to Spider. On Earth, he would have been killed in infancy because mutant babies are deemed too dangerous. If they are thought to be very powerful, then they get experimented on and die before adulthood.

At first, Spider is born looking "normal"; the only odd thing is that he has webbed fingers and toes. However, his “normal” appearance doesn’t stay normal for long as his body begins to develop, and the X gene kicks in, causing his skin to turn dark blue. His fingers fuse together until he only has three fingers on each hand and two toes. His palms and soles also become very sticky, allowing him to stick to surfaces and crawl around, hence the nickname. He grows a tail with barbs he can throw and contain a paralytic substance. His teeth sharpen, and his eyes turn from a warm brown to pitch black. The only thing about him that stays normal is his blonde hair. He gets all the hallmark powers of Nightcrawler (basically teleporting and being extremely agile), but he also inherits the ability to shapeshift like his other ancestor, Mystique. His shapeshifting manifest is the ability to shift his physic in any way to maximize his survival chances - his body does this automatically. child to allow him to breathe Pandora’s air.

Paz, who knew she was a descendant of Nightcrawler, knew this was possible and made a contingency plan. She flies one of those metal bunkers deep into the forest past where the RDA scanners can find and slowly stocks it up with enough supplies for them for years. She also starts learning about Pandora's flora and fauna from Grace, the only person who knows she is pregnant and that the baby could be a mutant. They leave during the Great Battle at the end of the first movie, and Spider grows up as a healthy, loved baby for 15 years until the humans return (he's younger in this AU because Paz gives birth days before the final battle).

Paz and Spider get kidnapped when they're out foraging by Quaritch's team, and Admore tells Spider he can either work for them to shave time off his mother's prison sentence for deserting her post or die with her in an execution. Spider obviously chooses the most self-sacrificing route and goes through very brutal training to become the perfect soldier. He and Quaritch have a very fucked up relationship in this AU because he uses Spider's destress to gain his loyalty, but they're not as close as in AWOW.

When the recoms find Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk, and Neteyam in the forest, Quaritch calls for Spider’s assistance (a reference to X-men: First Class, where Azazel, Nightcrawler’s father, is summoned using a high-pitched whistle). He appears right before the children’s eyes in a puff of black and blue smoke, and they’re convinced he’s the Devil their dad and the scientists refer to when talking about Earth mythology.

With Spider there, the fight is a lot more brutal. He stabs Neytiri through her ribs and almost kills Jake, but more Navi show up as their backup, forcing the recoms to retreat. Before they do though, Quaritch orders Spider to take Jake, but since he's too heavily surrounded, Spider takes Neteyam instead. His reasoning is that any hostage is a good hostage.

Queue the few months of Spider and Neteyam bonding as Neteyam realizes Spider is just as much of a prisoner as he is to the RDA. He hatches a plan to escape, but Spider often waffles between wanting to help or not because he’s fighting the fear of what will happen to his mom with the fear of freedom.

All this culminates with the recoms discovering Jake in Awa’ulta (the Sullys leave because Neytiri is injured and Jake won’t risk her or anyone else being hurt for him). They bring Spider’s mom along to keep him in line, and that final battle begins with Neteyam crashing the boat when he sees Lo’ak and Tuk on the deck at gunpoint. Instead of Lo'ak and Neteyam going to find Spider, it's Lo'ak and Ao'nung - who gets shot but lives. Paz also is shot on their escape route, and she does die on the rock in canon!Neteyam fashion. Instead of Jake and Neytiri having their “strong heart” talk, it's Neteyam and Spider.

“Spider, Spider! Hey! Look at me!” Neteyam grabs the boy’s face and stares into his black eyes. They look more dead now than ever before. “I need you with me! And I need you to be strong," He places his hand over the Spider's heaving chest, "Strong heart! We have to help find my sisters. No one else dies today.”

Queue Spider going on an absolute rampage on the ship because he’s losing his mind, and Neytiri, Ronal, and Tonowari having simultaneous breakdowns because they knew humans were dangerous, but why is this one blue and disappearing into thin air.

I don't know what would happen after that, but it was a fun thought.

[greatkittydream]

thank to @smokinferret for opiz idea

Jaune was surrounded by his friends and Team Rwby.

smokinotter: teams can be divided up in pairs of 2, 3 and 4 depending on the skill level of each member.

Ruby: hey Jaune why don't you ever talk about where you're from.

yang: come to think of it vomit boy you never do talk about that type of stuff. what's wrong Mama kick you out the nest earlier or something. yang said in a playful town.

jaune: well I just don't think it's that interesting I grew up in a smaller rural area that was comprised entirely of humans. there isn't much variation there, I just don't think I'm that interesting compared to you yang I mean you're a dragon for Pete's sake.

yang: fair I am pretty cool. she said pulling back her sleep and flexing her arm. but I still think you should have some cool stuff like don't your people typically tell stories.

Ruby: yeah, yeah I heard you people make stories where werewolves seem like the most badass and killable creatures ever that only the not only the most powerful and strongest of magic can harm tell us one of those.

Blake: I don't know why you want to hear one of those stories human stories typically revolve around monsters being violent and cruel by Nature. she said in the common area feet over couch reading a book forced to be in the conmen area.

jaune: already saying we're just going Ruby would rush to his defense saying he's a good human pariah would lead in saying she's half human and then the three would go out at talking about humans are getting better while Blake brought up the atrocities done And Atlas still hitting monsters for no reason. you know what there is this one story Mama but sing to me to sleep. in hindsight he should have kept his mouth shut because now Yang won't stop calling him a mama's boy.

yang: how do you go on vomit boy let's see what your mom was saying you to sleep with I'll have you know my mother was a dragon and they only tell the most gruesome stories that children.

jaune: well I guess I'll sing the song I don't know if he'll be anything like Your Dragon Tales though I can only imagine how scary those would be in order to scare a dragon.

jaune: "clearing throat noise"

Don't ever laugh as a hearse goes by

For you may be the next to die

They wrap you up in bloody sheets

To drop you six feet underneath

They put you in a pinewood box

And cover you up with dirt and rocks

It all goes well for about a week

And then, your coffin begins to leak

And the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out

The worms play pinochle on your snout

They eat your eyes, they eat your nose

As you begin to decompose

A slimy beetle with demon's eyes

Chews through your stomach and out your sides

Your stomach turns to rancid grease

And puss pours out like melted cheese

You spread it on a slice of bread

And that's what you'll eat when you're dead

And the worms crawl out, the worms crawl in

The ones that crawl in are lean and thin

The ones that crawl out are fat and stout

Your eyes fall in, and your hair falls out

Your brain turns into maggot pie

Your liver starts to liquify

And for the living, all is well

As you sink further into hell

And the flames rise up to drag you down

Into the fire, where you will drown

Your skin melts off as you descend

And Satan tears you limb from limb

Your suffering will never end

And the worms crawl in, the worms crawl out

They'll eat your guts and then shit them out

And when your bones begin to rot

The worms remain, but you do not

So don't ever laugh as a hearse goes by

For someday, you'll be the one to die

And when Death brings his cold despair

Ask yourself, "Will anyone care?

everyone else in the room: what the fuck was that.

______________________________________________________________

opiz pov: Miss Good Witch do you know why I brought you to my office.

Miss Good Witch: no but I have a feeling you're going to tell me.

opiz: miss good witch you have petitioned to have jaune expelled over 10 times and it has not even been a week, I understand you think I'm a fool for letting the boy after all you haven't seen anything he could potentially do and he's performed just below average. before you answer that question though Miss Goodrich let me ask you a question do you know what I am.

Miss Good Witch: you are a phoenix sir one of the five left in the world I fail to see how this pertains to the boy and yes I want him out of the school for his own safety he's not been Taught how to properly use his mana and he's in a school where people can be murdered without charge the because the people in the council refused to change even after hundreds of years of life the school forced to abides by the Old Law system. and he's a human many family still hold a grudge.

opiz: well let me put it like this that boy is very very special I could go through thousands of cycles and never get a chance like this again so with all due respect MS please hold any and all requests of expulsion of him.

______________________________________________________________

hi smokinotter here a little World building the council is Not Elected it is inherited and it is full of people hundreds if not thousands of years old because of this laws are slow to change and it's still under a monarchy system. hate generates hate, just as many humans hate monsters. There are monsters that hate humans for the simple fact of each other's existence.

@howlingday thank for the help with the ideas

[julesthequirky]

The 'Uncle': Part One

All my work is purely aimed at those 18+ so minors kindly, DNI.

Summary: Three years ago your mother introduced you to her new boyfriend, Dean, and since then you've all gelled as a new family. Dean treats your mother like she's the finest gold and you honestly couldn't be happier for her. But what you weren't counting on was a new 'uncle', and there's something about the way that he looks at you that makes your skin crawl...

Characters/Pairings: Step 'Uncle'!Sam x Step 'Neice'!Reader, Dean, OC Denise (reader's mother), Omar, Tony, Raven, Emily.

Overall Warnings: Noncon (rape), degradation, finger sucking, mentions of blowjobs, blackmail, manipulation.

W/C: 2,336

“She’s eighteen, Denise. I’m sure she’ll be fine on her own.”

“I don’t know,” Your mother chewed her bottom lip. “What if something happens? I’d feel better if someone was here, like Sam.”

Fuck. No. Anyone but him. Dread lined the pit of your stomach at the thought of Dean’s brother in your home for a week whilst your mother and Dean went on vacation.

“Mom, please. I’m an adult.”

“You’re not twenty-one yet, missy.”

You pleaded, giving her your best Bambi eyes. She turned to Dean, who had his arm around her waist.

“You know what I think, Dee? She’s old enough, and Y/N is a good kid,” he chuckled. “Hell, kids her age are doing all sorts of things - drinking, parties, passing something from Kentucky, ahah.” Dean petered off as he realised he’d put his foot in it.

He chuckled, and you shot him a look to say, ’Why’d you go and say that for?’. But, of course, your mother would never let you stay home alone now, and she stared dumbstruck at her boyfriend for a moment before turning to you.

“I’m calling Sam.”

“No, Mom, please. I don’t need supervision!”

“Dee—” Dean attempted.

“No, I’ve made up my mind.” With that, she strutted off, already dialling his number.

Dammit. That was it then.

“Sorry, kiddo.” Dean squeezed your shoulder as your mother stayed firm in her decision and he followed her into the living area.

Knowing Sam would be sitting put a sour taste in your mouth, and nausea roiled in your stomach. You would be subject to him for a week, where he would get away with anything. And they had no idea.

It started two years ago when Sam came over to celebrate the 4th of July. Dean was at the barbecue, beer in hand, tongs in another, and wearing an apron that made you and your mother laugh, prompting you to tell him, ‘That’s not what meat man means’.

You were dancing to music in your cutest short-shorts and t-shirt, with the hosepipe filling the inflatable pool, when the hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, the feeling extending down your spine. You turned, hose in hand, and your eyes honed in on the cause.

You thought Dean was tall. Well, he was taller. And he was staring right at you. Your smile slipped. Something about the intensity of his look made you nervous, and you couldn’t help but shake the feeling of being caught in a predator’s gaze.

He raised the beer to his mouth, and you turned to face the pool, eyes fixed on the water rippling, intent on not gaining any more attention than you had already garnered.

Out of sheer luck, you managed to stay away from Sam. When he was around, you were out. But it seemed that the inevitable couldn’t be fought.

*

Fuck. Fuck Fuck!!! You mentally cursed yourself out as you approached the house. The lights were on. Meaning Sam was home. Thinking you’d be fine, you hadn’t taken your rucksack with a spare change of clothes. Which also meant that you couldn’t even use your typical studying excuse.

You weren’t stupid enough to go through the front door, so you sneaked around the house’s edge to not set the sprinkler’s off and headed for the backyard gate. You gave it a tentative push, and it swung open slightly. Relief washed through you, intensely grateful that you wouldn’t be attempting parkour tonight.

You edged towards the trellis that lead up to your balcony when suddenly you were plunged into darkness. The fuck?

You knelt, frozen on the spot, heart pounding in your chest, as you listened desperately for a sound, anything. But nothing, except for the crickets in the grass. You mentally chided yourself and willed yourself to calm down. Still, the adrenaline running through your veins had you on edge, and you wouldn’t breathe until you were safe inside your room.

With some sense of calmness, you make your way to the trellis. You’re sure that he’s probably gone to sleep. With that self-reassurance, you climbed the frame with ease and expertise. Dean had talked about bringing it down as it blocked the sight of the yard from the living room, but you’d managed to talk him out of it.

You dropped onto the balcony, making barely a sound, and quickly found relief as you let yourself into your bedroom. You closed the door behind you and closed the curtains, making it look like you had been here all along.

“Have a good time out?” A voice asked.

“Fffffuuuuuuuuck!!” You yelled, heart soaring to your throat, a coldness washing over you. You spun around to see Sam sitting in the corner of your room.

He clicked on the bedside lamp beside him. Then, watching you, he rose to his feet. That familiar prickly feeling came to your head and awareness of how screwed you were slid down your spine.

You opened your mouth, but he beat you to it. “There are cameras. By the gate, Y/N.”

Shit. You’d forgotten about the damn cameras. Dean had installed them, joking that they were only for show, only because your mother had worried herself over intruders.

He stepped closer until he had you craning your neck back just to look at him. He was so damn tall. You swallowed thickly…. you were in the shit, for sure.

Sam was a brooder. He was patient and always found the right opportunity that worked in his favour.

“Does your momma know you dress like a slut?” Sam asked, fingering the hem of your super short skirt.

Your hand swatted his away, and his eyes narrowed at your slight. You’d poked the bear. Nice one.

“Your momma gave me a list of rules for you to adhere to. No parties, no drinking, no smoking and no boys. How many do y’think you’ve broken? Three at least, I’d say.”

All of them. You’d broken all your mother’s rules.

Damn. Fuck. You had swilled your mouth with mouthwash at least twice and popped a mint just in case, and to combat the herbal smell you had sprayed so much, you had coughed and spluttered before Ubering back. On top of that, you had begged your Uber driver, Omar, to stop at least a block away, so Sam wouldn’t get suspicious.

If he was angry, he didn’t show it. In fact, you’d say he’d been waiting for this moment as a smirk curved his lips.

“Your momma thinks you’re this perfect little angel, but I know different. And Dean’s too pussywhipped to see through your little act.”

In the two years you’ve known Sam, he’d barely spoken two words to you. Now, filth was spewing from his lips.

You had the wool pulled over your mother’s and Dean’s eyes. And they were none the wiser. You’d perfected the routine. Practised the lie so much it was second nature. Now, standing before you, Sam posed as a real threat to your perfectly curated deception.

“You weren’t supposed to be here!” You admitted, and he laughed.

“Oh, I know, darlin’. Did mommy dearest just have to go and ruin your plans?” he mocked  condescendingly.

The nerve of this man. It angered you. He knew exactly how your mother worried herself nearly to death. And he used it to his advantage feeding into her anxiety. He whispered poison into her ear, and no amount of convincing could appeal to her rationale. It all fell on deaf ears.

“She’s just concerned.”

And she had every right to be. At four, you had been out with your dad, doing errands, and a drunk driver on the wrong side of the road had ploughed headfirst into your dad’s car, killing him instantly. He never stood a chance. You on the other hand – it had been a miracle that you had come out almost unscathed.

“Is that so?” A malicious grin spread across his face.

You backed up, eyes wide, mouth forming a small o, the prey to a predator, as he stalked towards you. When the backs of your knees hit the edge of the mattress you almost fell on your ass, but Sam gripped your shoulder, stopping you from going anywhere.

“Well, she should be concerned.”

Danger spiked his words and fear rooted you to the spot.

“I’ll tell Dean.” You managed to choke out.

He snorted. “You’ll tell Dean what? How you seduced a grown man. That you couldn’t control yourself and succumbed to the lust surging in that little body o’ yours. Who do you think he’s gonna believe? The lawyer or the whore?”

“I’m not a whore.” You stood defiant.

“Oh please. I know you’ve sucked more cock than anybody else in your year.”

His fingers trailed over the curve of your lips. A whimper slipped out, and you gave a tentative shake of your head.

“Sam…”

He grinned like a child that was happy playing with its toy. He pushed his fingers past your lips and into the hot cave of your mouth.

“Suck.” He ordered.

You wouldn’t. You stood, staring hard at him with a mouth full of his fingers.

He bent low, his breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

“If you don’t start sucking, I’ll call your mother and tell her all about tonight.”

That bastard. Heat flamed your cheeks, and the strange sensation of shame filled you. His fingers nudged forwards, the heavy digits resting on your tongue curling down to the back of your throat.

If your mother found out about your exploits, you could kiss goodbye to the prospect of staying in a college dorm come September. Your mother would never let you out of her sights, and you’d never know freedom.

After a moment, your cheeks hollowed, and your tongue flexed. He groaned in pleasure.

“Such a good girl.” He praised.

Your tongue lashed over the digits, curling around them, sucking them as deep as they would go until eventually he pulled his fingers free with a resounding pop.

You avoided his gaze until he tipped your chin back.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You refused to answer him. He tutted, then grasped your chin and forced your head to shake ‘no’.

“Please. Let me go. I just want to sleep.”

You wished you’d taken up Emily’s offer to bunk at her place. Sleeping on a pull-out bed where the springs poked your back seemed far more appetizing than facing your ‘uncle’ tonight. You’d considered it, played around with it in your mind, but had you not turned up until morning, Sam would have called your mother.

“Let you go? Don’ think so, girlie.”

Your eyes fluttered shut and the first drop of a tear, slipped down, catching on his hand.

“Please.”

His fingers grasping your chin, loosened, eventually letting go. Shuddering in a breath, your eyes opened,

“I won’t tell anyone.” You’d take it to the grave.

“You won’t?”

You shook your head. You just wanted him to stop.

“I’ll stay in and do the housework. I’ll—”

“Bargaining won’t work with me, darlin’.”

Fuck. Your stomach dropped, leaving a sour taste in your mouth, and your heart thudded heavily in your chest. You craned your neck to look at him, and took a steady breath.

“So, who was the lucky boy tonight?”

His question caught you off guard, it had you blinking in confusion.

“C’mon, darlin’. I know you’re not stupid. Who’s cock did you suck?”

You shook your head. “No-ones.” You lied.

Long time crush, hot quarterback Tony had been at the party with a few of his buddies, playing beer pong. Emily had pushed you towards him, and then she had quickly ditched you, going off with Raven.

You’d forced yourself to make small talk, all the while wondering what the fuck you were doing. You’d almost pinched yourself when he suggested that he wanted to dance. With you. His body moved close to yours, closer still. His lips brushed your ear, your lips, your neck, hands exploring your heated skin. and you’d said the hell with it.

Tony had pulled you into a cloakroom, the chord light switch cast shadows, as you kissed. Then the next thing you were taking him into your mouth, with satisfied groans above you.

Sam sighed and pulled out his phone. he made a few taps before angling the screen down to you. Right there, from a hidden camera was Tony, pants down and you on your knees, hands gripping his hips.

All the energy within evaporated, and the colour drained from your face. How? No, you didn’t want to know.

“You’re a dirty little liar.” He whispered.

“Sam, I—”

“Save it,” he interrupted. “What would your momma say, hmm?”

He made a few more taps, turning it back around for you to see. Your mother was clicked ready to send. Your eyes widened, and adrenaline shot through your system, heating your temperature. He wouldn’t. But he would, and you knew that. He would do just about anything to get what he wanted.

“Please! You can’t. She’d lose her mind! I’d lose college privileges. Please, Sam, please!” you begged, hysterical, desperate for him to back away from the nuclear button.

Sam’s eyebrows raised as you begged and pleaded. But no amount would stop him on his current mission to screw up your life. Nothing would stop him unless he got what he wanted. You slumped, defeated.

 “Tell me what you want.”

 A slow malicious grin spread across his face, glee danced in his eyes. Sam leant down, pushing his face to yours.

“Oh darlin’, ‘m gunna pop your cherry.”

Coldness swooped down, freezing your blood, and his words knocked around your head, but you could barely hear them over the thrashing heartbeat in your ears.

No. No. No.

Your breath rasped, coming out quicker when his hand soothed down your cheek. Your eyes squeezed shut unable to stop the sob of hopelessness escaping your chest.

[spaceacethespookypansfanfics]

Heyyy. Could you do a CandyBat fic about the immediate aftermath of the Tasty treats ep? Thank you 🙏

Of course. I’ve been avoiding writing about tender treats specifically because I didn’t want to misrepresent anything but hopefully this is okay. I just kinda started writing and didn’t stop. Not really sure what to title this though. I hope everyone enjoys.

Kevin should’ve gone home immediately. As soon as the coast was clear, should’ve gone right home.

There had been a sinking pit in Kevin’s stomach for the rest of his shift. He should’ve listened to it. Not convince himself it was all in his head.

That might be Kevin’s biggest regret of the night. He should’ve been faster.

Thinking back on it now, Kevin has a lot regrets tonight.

He should’ve called the police immediately.

He should’ve kept those two gremlins in sight so they couldn’t cause any more damage to anyone else.

He should’ve . . .

Kevin stands up with a growl. He stomps his (good) foot hard against the vinyl floor. The pain shoots up his calf before dispersing, leaving the bottom of his foot sore. He wants to stomp (and scream and cry and break things and just absolutely die) more but looking around at the other bereft and grieving visitors, he sits back down.

He’s not the only one in pain.

Kevin resorts to clenching his hands, digging his nails into his palms as hard as he can.

It doesn’t help.

“Uh, hel—hello, d—dear. Kevin, right?”

Kevin looks up. A tall woman with long dark hair he recognises to be the mom to one of the gremlins. Skeleton one’s mom, Kevin thinks. Lila was it?

“Yea—“ Kevin’s throat has been closed for hours now, his voice thick and wavering. He clears his throat before he can sound any more pathetic to this lady. “Yeah. Why?”

Lila’s face goes from slightly nervous to full of pity. Kevin watches it in real time. Somehow she knows. Normally that wouldn’t bother him, he’s proud of himself and strangers can fuck off about it. But normally strangers frown at him. They don’t look at him like this.

It’s making it too real.

Kevin looks down at the floor. He wants to crawl away from this woman.

“I just wanted to thank you, dear, for protecting my son.” The woman sits down in the chair next to his. So she’s staying then. Great.

Kevin wants to scoff but shrugs instead. He wants to be rude, tell her he doesn’t care about her son, but that’d be a lie. If he didn’t care, he would’ve ran from the store the minute her son showed up. But he does blame her son.

Not that he’s going to tell her that. “What kind of person wouldn’t, if they were in my position?” Kevin tries to play it cool, keep his tone light, but everything’s flashing through his head, the recall instant and blurry but oh so overwhelming.

Kevin’s heart picks up again and his hands start trembling for the umpteenth time tonight. It’s more than just his hands. His legs are shaking and his skin’s crawling and it’s fuzzy. Everything feels fuzzy and he can’t breathe again.

The tears drip onto the floor before Kevin can wipe them away. The lady definitely noticed now. Kevin’s about to get up and leave when he’s suddenly trapped.

Lila’s got her arms wrapped around him and he’s stunned. He doesn’t know what to do.

“Oh dear. It’s okay. You don’t have to pretend.” Lila sounds just like any mother should and despite her not being his own, Kevin is drawn into the comfort. He buries his face in her shoulder and cries quietly. Her sweater is soaked in under a minute with how hard Kevin is letting himself cry.

Kevin couldn’t help reliving tonight’s events.

He stayed behind to clean up with Rick after being attacked. Neither called the cops about it. They really should’ve. Why didn’t he?

Still, Kevin didn’t start walking home until after the shop was clean and locked up.

He only started running after he noticed the sirens following him. They weren’t after him, they were just going where he was going. When the ambulance passed him, Kevin booked it.

Kevin had never run so fast in his life.

The crowd around his home was massive, it had to be the entire neighbourhood plus some. Kevin played it off, of course there’d be a crowd. Streber goes all out every year and he’s always a hit.

Except the ambulance parked on the front lawn was a new addition that had Kevin’s heart sinking.

He should’ve been faster.

Kevin had to muscle his way through his neighbours to find out what happened, all while hearing glimpse of gossip.

“Poor man—“

“His arm—“

“He’ll never be the same—“

Right there, on their shared porch steps, was Streber.

EMTs were strapping him to a stretcher. They were acting fast but Kevin found himself wanting to shout at them to hurry up.

There was so much blood, Kevin couldn’t actually see Streber underneath it all.

He ran to the EMTs, ran to Streber.

“Is he okay?! Wha—what happened?!” Kevin couldn’t hear himself over the sound of his heart in his ears.

“Excuse me sir,” the third EMT who wasn’t holding the stretcher placed a gentle hand on Kevin’s chest, keeping him at bay. “You’re gonna need to step back. We’re taking the patient to the hospital now. Are you his family?”

Kevin was nodding before he really knew what he was nodding too. The EMT guided him to the ambulance where Streber was being looked at by the other two officers. He was in a daze at this point.

The ride to the hospital was blurry and fast and Kevin held Streber’s bloody cape in his hands the entire time. It was wet and sticky with blood but Kevin didn’t notice. Or seem to care.

It wasn’t until he was finally sitting in the waiting room that Kevin’s mind finally settled. It was the cops who’d gotten his attention.

They’d explained everything.

That maniac broke out and went on a rampage for those two kids and attacked Streber in the process.

This was those kids’ faults just as it was Kevin’s.

It’s been hours now, and Streber’s still in surgery.

Each minute that passes kills Kevin just a little bit more.

Kevin cries in Lila’s shoulder for longer than he normally would’ve allowed himself but today’s a unique exception.

He pulls away to wipe his face. Lila does the same, giving Kevin a bit of room.

He’s about to apologise to the woman when there’s a loud bam at the end of the hallway. A doctor in messy scrubs hurries over. “Are you the family?”

Kevin immediately stands to his feet. This is it.

His heart is on hold and he can’t read the doctor at all.

“Yes! Me. It’s me. I’m the family.” Kevin trips over himself, a strange sense of pride welling in him from those words. In any other circumstances, Kevin’d probably smile and boast that he’s Streber’s family, because he is and always will be.

The doctor focuses on Kevin, staying unreadable. “The patient lost a lot of blood. We’ve closed the wound and started blood transfusions but we were unable to recover the patient’s arm to attempt reattachment. Unfortunately, the patient has lost his arm from the elbow joint down. This is an extremely life changing injury and he will need all the support he can get. You can see him now, but he won’t be awake for several more hours.”

The doctor turned around and started walking down the hall. Kevin immediately takes after him, his mind buzzing with questions, but not knowing where to start at all.

“But he’s going to be okay?” Kevin finally asks. The doctor nods, leading him to the post-op room where Streber is.

“Visiting hours will be over shortly. Someone will inform you when it’s time to leave but you may come back tomorrow when visiting hours have started.” The doctor stays at the doorway. Kevin nods, not looking back. He doesn’t know the doctor’s left until he hears the door jam click.

All Kevin can look at is Streber. He’s hooked up and unconscious in the most uncomfortable looking bed ever. If he were awake, he’d complain for sure how it’s not big enough like their giant, king sized bed at home. He’d probably also complain that the colour scheme here is too bright and plain. It’d be a joke of course, and Kevin would laugh.

Kevin’s feet drift forward, he’s stumbling to Streber’s side in an uncoordinated haste.

All cleaned up now, Kevin sees what the doctor was talking about. Streber’s arm is gone. There’s only a bandaged stump where his elbow would be.

Kevin can’t quite comprehend it. There should be an arm there, and a hand. A hand he knows very well. But there isn’t.

Thankfully there’s a chair close enough to the bed that Kevin’s legs can give out without him falling flat on his ass. He lands in the chair and reaches for the hand that isn’t there anymore.

Kevin was sure he’d cried all the tears he could earlier.

Seems he was wrong.

It’s just him and the quiet steady beeping of the hospital machines here. He cries, gripping the bed’s sheet where Streber’s hand should be.

Kevin isn’t sure if he’s crying in relief or in pain. It might both. Because he’s so goddamn relieved Streber is still here. But not all of him is. And Kevin knows it’s going to crush Streber when he wakes up to see what he’s lost.

Still. He’s here. And the doctor said he was going to be okay.

Kevin let’s that thought pacify him for the rest of the night.

Streber may not be whole, but he’s going to be okay.

[angst-king]

Fall from Grace Chp5

(CW Illusion to SA, description of Self-harm, suicidal ideology/baiting, guns, violence, and sex Not smut& internalized homophobia))

Ever since the nightmare- as Charlie chose to call it- she and Vaggie had become more distant than ever. Charlie’s normal banter she would have with Vaggie, their trips to 7-11, and even their side relationship had stopped. No sex jokes, or slinging an arm around the other’s shoulder and calling each other unsavory nicknames. The only time they talked now was during exorcist training, and even then it wasn’t the same. Vaggie knew something was up, wondering if she had stepped out of line helping her that day instead of just leaving at her command. Or had it been something else or a combination of this? The only lead she had was Micheal was involved in some shape or form due to how he had approached her one day.

“You need to back off of my niece, you are nothing more than a guard, don’t get comfortable, you are replaceable. Understood.”

Vaggie never liked Micheal, sure he was her creator but he never liked how he interacted with Charlie. It made her skin crawl and she often stood between them. She needed to figure this out.

“Good morning, princess” “Vaggie, I thought I told you to stand outside my room from now on unless told otherwise.” “Sorry, princess but I have a few questions.” “You won't leave until I do I suppose, what do you want?” “….Did I do something wrong?” Charlie paused and rolled her eyes, then slipped on her dress.

“If this is about our past actions together I ask you to act as if they never happened. We are nothing but a princess and her guard. What we did means nothing and I can’t have people suspecting there is anything between us. I’m not a lesbian, have been and never will.” The formality reminded Vaggie of their younger years, cold and sharp in the tongue, it felt like she was being stonewalled.

“And if you mention what you saw in the bathroom to anyone I will rip out your heart.” Charlie finished with a cruel threat, Vaggie had a feeling she wasn’t bluffing with the way she turned to glare at her with narrowed eyes. Nodding Vaggie turned on her heel and walked out of Charlie’s room leaving her to finish getting ready.

Just like before in the eyes of the public Charlie was all smiles, bright-eyed, and joy, promising the citizen’s safety. On the inside, she was dying, she felt trapped. Day in and out keeping up the facade, it was exhausting being everyone’s ray of sunshine. She took a lot more of her frustrations out on the exorcists during training or on Vaggie. Micheal and Excalibur only encouraged this, telling her how everyone looked up to her, would want to be her, and how proud her parents would be. Sometimes Charlie had forgotten about her mother and father, long ago she felt betrayed when they still hadn’t returned. She clung to any memory she had of them in the privacy of her bedroom. But this wasn’t enough, training wasn’t sufficient, screaming insults at her army and beating them until they dared to fight back with a challenge. It didn’t erase the feeling of Excalibur’s touch, nor the words he would say while he fucked her that night.

Many times she could not be close to her courting partner, this involved avoiding his touch. Pushing him away, making excuses, or shuddering in disgust every time they had to act affectionate. Often looking in the mirror with disdain that she would let him defile her. One day she couldn’t take it any longer, so she grabbed a dagger she used to open letters and started cutting away at her flesh. Slicing and carving into her arms and thighs, at first the cuts were thin and shallow but got deeper and deeper the longer she went on. This seemed to satisfy the screaming in her head.

She also used it for punishment anything she thought about restarting her relationship with Vaggie or questioning herself. Forcing herself to remember she could not be with Vaggie, she wasn’t gay, and she couldn’t date someone soulless. Besides she wasn’t attracted to her, yeah she had a muscular body, washboard abs, and steady rough calloused hands that knew just where to and how to touch her, soft lips that knew just where to kiss, and teeth that knew where to bite. Shit. Another slice down her-

“What are you doing?!” Charlotte yelped at the booming voice, dropping the knife and grabbing a towel to hide what she had done. She looked over her shoulder to see Micheal who had a look of disappointment.

“N-nothing, I’m fine.” She lied, but Micheal shook his head at this.

“Clean up, and meet my office.” He demanded, nodding Charlie made haste to clean up the golden blood and bandage herself up, pulling her dress down hoping to hide as much of the evidence as she could. She knew this wasn’t going to go well her heart was racing as was her mind on what Micheal would do when she got there. Knocking on the door to his office there was a gruff ‘come in’ before she entered. Micheal softened his expression inside, pulled Charlie close, and sat her down on his workbench. He unwrapped the poorly done bandages revealing the multitude of scars and fresh cuts beneath.

“I see you’ve been doing this for a while, I see.” He comments while he starts to use her magic to heal them. Charlie was quiet, shaking slightly afraid of what would happen.

“You want to die so badly, don’t you? You want to kill yourself.” She hadn’t thought about it often but occasionally, the idea of being completely dead would cross her mind. She hardly got any further than wondering what being dead would truly feel like.

“Well, do you?” Micheal asked, again Charlie was silent.

“What is so bad about your life that you want to throw it away? Would you do such a selfish thing to your kingdom?” Charlie didn’t answer as Micheal’s tone pulled towards condescending. Tears welled up in her eyes as she shook her head at him.

“Well, you must want to if you’re doing this. So tell me Charlotte, how would you do it?” He smirked wickedly at her as if he were taking sadistic pleasure from this. Charlie continued to shake her head as Micheal wandered over to his rack of weapons.

“Would you poison yourself, swallow some pills? Would you slit your throat, maybe since you like slitting your wrist so much? Or would you swallow a bullet?” Reaching for his holy pistol he aimed the sight right at her throat.

“Imagine getting blasted to the throat, going through your vocal cords, esophagus, and your spine…or would you aim higher and blow your brains out?” Charlie scooted away from Micheal her wings shielding her as she curled up.

“Oh come on now Charlie, you’re so brave to litter your body with these disgusting scars for all your subjects to see, and think about ending your life leaving heaven without an heir! Yet you won't even tell me how you’d do it?” Laughter spilled from the man as he approached and pried her wings open, yanked her hand open, and placed the gun in it.

“If you’re so brave then show me” He challenged, Charlie’s eyes widened in horror as she looked down at the weapon in her hand. She had wielded a gun before, she’d been doing it from a young age, but. This time the weight of it was almost too real for her, her hand could barely keep its grip as her blood ran cold and her heart was pounding in her ears. Micheal cocked the gun, wrapped her fingers around it, and pressed the cold metal muzzle right to her throat. Keeping it there for a second before raising it to the center of her forehead.

“Go on Charlotte, pull the trigger and put an end to your oh-so-miserable life.” Tears ran down her face as her head shook frantically and she constantly stammered out

“No no no no no”

“Come on Charlotte, put an end to the Magne family. Think about it, the first woman and heaven’s princess killed herself. Oh, what a tragedy!

“I WON'T DO IT!” Charlie yelled out, Michael pressed the muzzle harder squeezing her hands against the grip and trigger.

“You won't do what?”

“I-I WON’T KILL MYSELF!” She finalized, and this satisfied Michael resulting in him pulling the gun away and dressing himself back with a sweet smile.

“That's my good girl.” Charlie had never been so scared in her life outside of the ‘nightmare’. Then Micheal draped his coat over her shoulders and lifted her from the bench.

“I’m sorry to scare you Charlotte dear but, I was afraid of what you would do. I don’t want you to die, I need you, heaven needs you. You’re the only one who keeps those pesky demons at bay and the citizens need you.” He spoke to her as if she were who he had just spanked and this was his apology.

“I do hope you can forgive me for my harshness, but I know you understand I have to keep you alive, it is my job to protect you, my dear princess. I only do this out of love.” Charlie curled into his chest, her wings shivering as her entire body had dropped its temperature drastically from the pure terror coursing through her. She could still feel the metal against her skin she could almost taste it! Micheal adjusted his coat over her body, rubbing her back as he carried her back to her room.

She hadn’t slept that night, and every time she did her dreams reminded her of it. The worst part of it had been that Micheal told Vaggie and Excalibur and placed her on suicide watch. Anytime Excalibur was not busy working he was right by her side and when he wasn’t there Vaggie was. The ‘bedroom’ policy had been overridden with stern orders to report any suspicious behaviors that may show she was hurting herself again. Of course, Micheal tried to say this was done out of care but Vaggie doubted it. She saw just how miserable Charlie had become over the weeks turning months. She could see Charlie was drowning and was coming out of resentment and anger right back at her. There was only one thing Vaggie knew to do.

She waited until a week had come when Excalibur would not be in the castle which meant she was tasked with watching over Charlie in his absence. Once night had fallen and Vaggie knew they would be alone she approached Charlie.

“Fuck me.” She demanded, Charlie looked at her confusedly.

“What?” Vaggie put down her weapon and said in that low yet sweet voice.

“Fuck. me.” Charlie’s face blushed a bright gold but she declined.

“I said we were nothing and I mean that Vaggie-” Interrupted by a rough kiss, Charlie growled and pushed back.

“What the fuck are you doing?” “I know you said we were nothing but and I’m okay with that, so why don’t you fuck me like I’m nothing~” Vaggie purred pressing herself lightly to the princess, Charlie hesitated.

“Come on, you’ve been so angry, and depressed you need some way to let it out, and you seem to think I’m your best target. So go on, fuck me like I’m nothing. Fuck me like the worthless soldier I am. Take me, I’m at your command, princess.” Yanking Vaggie into a rough yet passionate kiss, Charlie’s grumbled out.

“Not a fucking word, you stupid whore.” Vaggie whined in agreement when Charlie bit onto her neck as her hands desperately groped around the exorcist’s body. Vaggie had never submitted to Charlie before so this behavior was surprising, she knew she had it in her but didn’t know just how pent up she was. Vaggie knew that this wouldn’t fix everything but it was the only solution she could think of. She just couldn’t sit by like without trying.

They had gone almost all night, it was a wonder how Vaggie was even standing with how violent Charlie had been. Yet she’d take this over Charlie hurting herself again or even trying to die. She couldn’t lose her. Whether Charlie loved her back or not Vaggie could live with being alone as long as she could still guard Charlie.

[all-eyes-lead-to-the-truth]

All Eyes Lead to the Truth (4x13) | Never Again

He hangs up the phone as his former boss’s scolding rolls around his brain like a boulder. Fired. Fucking fired again. He slams the phone down over and over, tossing the receiver. 

He inhales, frustrated. The air in his apartment, thick with stale cigarette smoke and knock-off Calvin Klein he can barely afford, only further twists the knife.

Loser, she’d said. 

His coworker had called him a loser, right there in the office. Right in front of him, as if he couldn’t hear her. As if he wouldn’t say anything, wouldn’t do anything about it. Just like always. Well he’d shown her, throwing the shit from her perfect little desk to the floor, daring her to call him names to his face. 

Daring anyone to call Ed Jerse a loser again.

His jaw clenches. If only it had been Cindy’s desk he’d destroyed. Cindy who he’d screamed at instead of sitting mute in divorce court as she stuck it to him one more time. The raw skin on his freshly inked arm begins to burn, and in hindsight, the tattoo reminds him of a younger version of his newly-made ex-wife. A permanent reminder of his life’s failings etched five layers deep. How fucked is that?

A banging noise resounds from the apartment below him before a woman laughs menacingly.

“If you were any kind of man, you would have told her to kiss your ass,” the feminine voice mocks. “But no, another woman sticks it to you. Ain’t that right... Eddie.”

What the hell? Only his mother calls him Eddie, and he fucking hates it.

Ed crawls on the floor, presses his ear to the hardwood, listening to the woman below unpack loudly, hearing her ridicule him.

He bangs on the floor, “Hey! I can hear you down there. Hey! Stop it! Shut up! Shut up down there!”

Something dark and dangerous swirls beneath his skin.

It’s always women. Every single one of them. Controlling him, shaming him, emasculating him every chance they get. He can’t stand it, is sick to death of it. There’s a draw he cannot deny, a menacing pull that tugs on this hatred expanding deep down he can’t quite identify. Like a low simmering, it waits, burning him from the inside. These damn women… 

Sometimes he wants to reach out and just— 

Music blares up through the floorboards. He keeps banging and the song keeps getting louder until he hears a knock at his door.

Some woman tries to suck him into speaking of a God who’s forgotten him. 

“You hear that? She’s trying to drive me crazy,” Ed interrupts.

The religious woman shrugs him off, disagreeing. Telling him he’s wrong. 

“Somehow, she knows what I'm thinking,” he emphatically pleads. “I don’t want to feel it — but they know, like psychics or something, or an implant thing, trying to drive me crazy!” 

When she leaves, the pamphlet she’s given him says, "Are you a Failure?" 

“Mm-mm-mm,” the voice taunts. “You see? Even the Jehovah’s Witness babe won’t waste her time on you. No woman would, and you just sit and take it.” Ed covers his ears with his hands. “Take it like a man.”

A searing headache forms at the base of his skull as sweat blooms across his brow. Why is he so damn hot, so… angry? His head pounds in time with the throb of his tattoo. And that fucking music is too fucking loud!  

Then, like magic, he’s suddenly in front of his disrespectful neighbor's apartment, kicking her door in. He doesn’t even remember how he got here.

“Hey, what are you doing?” she shrieks. “Get out of here!”

It takes all of his willpower to move his feet, but instead of heading out the door, he finds himself stalking towards this stunned woman, his fists clenched tighter than his jaw — as if some invisible force is propelling him forward. Because yes, he hates her, too.

Deadbeat. Loser. Failure. 

He’s heard it all, and he has had enough. No one humiliates Ed Jerse anymore. No, not now. Never again.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she yells, backing up, her halting hands outstretched. “Get out of my apartment!”

The room swells with his rage. When the taut string keeping the violence bound within him snaps, Ed lunges.

Ear-piercing music drowns out the sounds of crushing bone and squelching bodily fluid spewing from his screaming neighbor's mouth. 

As if in a dream, Ed is across the room now, watching himself punching, kicking, bludgeoning the blonde woman crumpled to the floor beneath him. Mesmerized, he doesn’t try to stop himself from hurting her. Doesn’t quit slamming the stereo’s remote control against her skull until the blood spatter coats her face and the rise and fall of her chest ceases. Doesn’t restrain himself from shoving her lifeless body into an empty moving box, dragging the heavy blood-stained cardboard down the basement stairs, and tossing the mangled remains of Ms. Schilling into the fiery furnace.

Adrenaline thrumming through his veins, Ed reaches inside the box and pulls out the bloody remote. He is in control now.

“Attaboy, lover,” the familiar voice encourages. “From now on, I’m your right-hand gal. You and me.”

There it is again: the hatred in his head. Only deeper, his mind churning verbal vitriol around his brain like sickness in his stomach. The tattoo pulses painfully along his bicep like a hammering heart, and the fire flares. Sweat beads across his body while the acrid stench of burnt hair and blood sting his nostrils. As he stares wild-eyed into the flames, he can’t help but think that maybe he’s finally not failed at something. Maybe this woman’s voice has been waiting to be heard long before ink bled black beneath his skin. 

“As long as I’m with you, no one will ever hurt you...” 

Ed looks down at the bright lines of his tattoo’s smirking face and wonders if this is what reclaiming his life feels like. 

”Never Again.”

Read the rest of All Eyes Lead to the Truth on Archive of Our Own!

@monikafilefan

[romances-not-tragedies]

Sadi could not get the words out of his brain.

He rather thought Doc Maggie crazy when she had basically accused him of being too obsessed with Jo Gar. "I cannot help but observe that everything you do, you are doing this to catch Jo Gar's attention," she had said. "Even if it's a negative attention and you have been doing it for--what?--years since you replaced my departed cousin."

Sadi sat back on the chair assigned to him, surprised. It was not easy dealing with the likes of Doc Maggie Alcantara, who had been as astute as, if not more than, Jo Gar. Unlike Jo Gar, she had operated on the principle of her chosen profession. She was compassionate most of the time but she could be honest when the occasion needed it. Today, though, she had chosen honesty.

"I don't know what you mean, Doc Maggie," he said when he had recovered from her salvo.

The doctora shook her head as she responded with: "Please, Lieutenant, even if I have been avoiding you because I do not trust you, I still hear stories about you and Jo clashing over cases. You want to prove yourself even though you can be wrong seven times out of ten. You want to always be the first, Lieutenant, first to have solved the case even if it is not yet fully solved. When you feel threatened by Jo Gar, you lash out and threaten him as though he has crawled under your skin."

Sadi kept his quiet, mostly because she was right. Yet he wanted to defend himself from her accusation.

He took a deep breath and asked, "Why do you defend him even if you criticize him for some of his views? It does not make sense."

"You can call him out on some of his views and defend him if someone tries to harm him, you know," Doc Maggie shrugged as she answered.

He sighed and answered, "To be honest, when placed next to Jo Gar, I feel steps behind him. I feel--" he groaned, running his fingers through his dark curls shorn into a regulation cut before he went on, "I feel like he is some kind of devil stealing thunder from us."

"Jo Gar is a private detective, not the Antichrist," Doc Maggie pointed out in a get-a-grip tone. "Look, he may be always steps ahead of you but maybe you can try catching up with him without being an annoying ass sometimes."

Sadi blinked. Though he had desired honesty, he had never thought that honesty came in the form of a doctor who had studied in the States and came back to the Islands shiny and confident. She had always said that she had been like this since her girlhood, but he was certain that it had been sharpened and refined during her days in the States as a pensionado.

He was not able to answer to it because she continued, "I do not understand why you hate him so much even if he didn't do you anything wrong. I don't know with anyone in this world, but I think you are fucking obsessed."

The last words almost made him fall off the chair.

Obsessed. The word rang in his brain so much that it almost shut his brain down. What was Doc Maggie thinking or trying to drive in here?

"There was no way around it," he heard Doc Maggie continue.

Sadi blinked towards Doc Maggie. If anything, her little eyes with their sharp stare on him was different from what he had seen in the late Lieutenant Arragon's portrait in the station. Both had the same eyes, as did her mother whose mother was born an Arragon. But if the late Lieutenant Arragon's eyes had a congenial glimmer in them, Doc Maggie's were kind and yet canny. She was the kind of person who did not take shit from anyone, most especially from the likes of him.

No wonder he was scared of her, and so was Jo Gar even if he didn't admit it, considering his views on the women of the Islands.

"That's what you believe, Doctora?" he asked, his voice seemingly far and not his own.

"And do you, Lieutenant?" she asked back.

The rest of the day, he couldn't stop wondering if the doctor was spot-on in her observations or not.

[lilitophidian]

Every scratch of frigid appendages that ripped into him was accompanied by a sizzling. The squirming seemed fruitless as if the ghosts of the past had the advantage this time. It did not matter what he cared about them. The words to ramble not to give a damn but to distract.

They would take what they wanted from him, just as he stole from them.

P R I D E.

Aware of how deeply ingrained it had become. A self-proclaimed king came forward into a queen's kingdom, which she found hilarious. The thoughts most likely fabricated these notions to satisfy his narcissistic urge, even if he would only appear as a jester to herself. Strings were attached to every portion of his skin as she deformed him like a well-loved marionette.

To devour or be consumed. The query is in word. In speech...In horror.

Splotches of rash would form gradually as deterioration touched him. Itching along his skin in bacterial sores, as if he had contracted parasites from their feast. They'd laugh... Oh, they would mock his misfortune.

S C R A T C H

Y O U R S E L F

R A W

CRAWL FREE FROM YOUR HIDE.

Victims would halt in sudden slow motion, some with his gore trailing from their rotting lips. The static he talked with reverberated back at him, piercing his ear canals with a sharpened high-pitched screech in return.

Crawling microscopic insects beneath the epidermis gave tickles. A classic for madame boogeywoman, since many would seek razors to cut such critters from the flesh, or even scratch such raw to liberate them.

You'd think she willed the state of schizophrenia upon fragile minds. She wanted him to delve into his skin, even if none of this was true.

Wanted him to be afraid to sleep again. Countless evenings that you would believe would be alleviated by black coffee, notwithstanding a thoughtless idea to fuel oneself.

Do not you want to experience the pain? Oh, she must have relished sharing hers with others, the pleasure of utter terror flicking its tongue across the skin as she absorbed anyone's misery.

Case studies of trauma bonding in creative forms.

Feel like she did before he emerged from his father's ballsack, penetrating his mother as if she were some horrible fucking perversion. A BASTARD child, his life was ruined, and his fetal corpse was thrown into the grave before he even had a chance.

The radio did not console you. Why would anyone be alarmed about his absence? It was not as if he made any significant contributions to history.

She was fully aware of this. She knew him. It was a fragment of poetry ripped from an antique book, stained with coffee and blood. God forbid, no one was treated like the cervid.

The benefits of being preferred.

In her playground, time seemed to have stopped abruptly. Nonetheless, he remained ensnared by the deceased, as if he were locked in the hug of tree branches with heavy roots.

Mother's voice would call out in repetition.

" My sweet bebe... What did you do? What have they done to my boy? Ti bebe presye mwen an, Alastor...They made you into a monster.

I can't.....I can't see you... Where are you? My bebe? "

As sweet as sugar, the familiar taste of powder despite it being bitter and disliked. Her compassionate hand would reach through the statues that had imprisoned him in transgression. Reaching out to save him even if her face was not in sight.

All he needed to do was grasp it.

If he could even as the critters wiggled around in flesh as if he were a rotting deer carcass hanging from a hook.

Brightened lights will suddenly take over your eyesight in a startling burst. When hands collide, the scene is as if you are entering Heaven. Though...the knot of Hell on the shadowed queen's hip remains very much apparent.

[factorydefaultlu]

despite being a bit of a slut aegon doesn't strike me as someone who actually knows how to get a woman off but he'd get obsessed when his partner teaches him how to get her off. he'd love both, the lessons themselves because they include him being praised when he follows instructions but mainly he learns that he loves making his partner cum because it makes him feel powerful and needed and the feeling of them actually coming on his cock isn't bad at all

Conent warning: Smut

Minors DNI

You would be a prostitute in a brothel he frequented.

Being his favorite had its benefits and downfalls. He paid well, but the way he fucks is a little lackluster. Aegon was entirely too focused on his own pleasure.

It annoyed you, leaving you to get yourself off after he was gone. Didn't anyone teach him how to please a woman?

You stopped in your thoughts, no you don't suppose anyone has. This launched an idea for the next time he wanted you.

Aegon threw a small sack of coins to the House Mother, "My usual." he said as he made his way through the curtains to the back rooms.

He arrived at your room, and entered. You smiled at him as you turned from your seat at the vanity. "My prince, I've been waiting all day for you." he smirked. "As have I."

You would get up and go towards him, he would pull you close and start running his hands over your body. Only clad in a thin nightshift, you could feel his touch clearly. You would lean up and whisper in his ear "Has anyone ever taught you how to make a woman cum?"

Aegon would pull back and look at you, narrowing his eyes curiously. "You're a whore why would you need to cum?"

"Clearly you've never felt a woman's cunt clench around your cock as you cum. Or heard a woman truly beg you to touch them." you retort. The prince thought for a moment. "Teach me then."

So there you laid, instructing Aegon on how to eat a woman out. You taught him how to tease around the cunt, biting and nipping at the thighs. As well as where the clit was, this soon became his favorite part of a woman. The sounds you made as he sucked and bit at it, he loved being called a 'good boy' he loved the way you squirmed under him and grabbed at his hair.

"Stop, before I cum." you said pushing his head from you. He looked confused, "Isn't that what you want?" you shook your head, "I want to come on your cock, to show you what it feels like." Aegon's face beamed in excitement. He crawled over you, and you wrapped your hips around his waist. "Start slow. Tease me." you whispered to him. He did as he was told, it teased him as much as it did you. But he could feel you throbbing around him, he loved it.

Your arms would move to wrap around his neck, as you'd kiss and leave marks in his skin. "Speed up now, but not too fast." Aegon groaned and did exactly that, he so desperately wanted to pound into his teacher but he also wanted to know how good it felt for a woman to cum on his cock.

He moaned into your ear, you watched him with a smirk on your face. The prince was putty in your hands. He felt you squeeze around his cock and it twitched. "Can I go faster?" he asked although it sounded more like begging 'mhm' you responded.

He started a fast pace with his hips, he moaned loudly at the sensation. He was getting closer, and luckily so were you. He continued to pound into you and you grabbed at the sheets. "I'm gonna cum, don't stop fucking me." you commanded. Aegon nodded and kept his pace. The knot in your stomach continued to tighten and the heat in cunt got hotter. You moaned as the knot snapped and your body was struck with lighting. The prince moaned loudly as he felt your cunt desperately trying to milk him. You squeezed him so good, it felt absolutely divine. Aegon soon followed with his own orgasm, pumping you full of his cum. He whimpered into you neck and you rubbed circles into his arm.

"What a good boy."

[xlovely-daydreamsx]

Black Lab (Yandere!Hawks x Reader x Yandere!Dabi) Ch. 6

Find Chapter 1 here!

Find Chapter 5 here!

Summary: You learn to cope with the help of a friend.

Note: Hello everyone! Long time no see, eh? I’m officially graduating tomorrow, so new chapters are either going to be a lot more often or a little less often depending on what kind of work I’ll be doing over the summer. But I hope you’ve all been doing well, and that you enjoy the newest chapter :)

You tried your hardest to stay there for as little time as possible, but it was hard to come up with excuses when you practically lived alone.

“If I’m gone too long, my mother might worry about me- I don’t think she’d be too happy that I’m here.” The counter was cool against your skin, goosebumps crawling their way up your arm.

“It’s only four, though,” Kiego frowns, “she doesn’t get home until later, right?” He must be stalking you; it’s the only explanation you can think of for how he knows so much about you.

“You shouldn’t be home alone all the time, anyways,” Toya moves to take your empty glass, the intricate design catching the light as it moves, sending splashes of color against the dull gray walls, “you’re an Omega,” he looks you up and down, “such a small one at that. It’s dangerous.”

“I’ve done perfectly fine by myself,” Kiego gives you a look of sympathy which sends your blood boiling, “I don’t know what ideas you guys have in your heads about Omegas, but I’ll tell you right now that I’m not going to live up to any of your fairytale love story fantasies.”

Toya stops his ministrations at the sink, turning towards you with a look you can’t quite place. He leans against the counter, foot against the cupboard looking ever-so casual. These two seem to only be capable of pissing you off.

“I never wanted to be Apex, or soulmates, or whatever the fuck you wanna call it, so I’d appreciate if you both just left me alone.” To be honest, you feel a little bit badass standing your ground like that. I mean, you had to do it eventually, you know? But it’s hard, especially in a stranger’s home, surrounded by Alphas twice your size… You’re starting to rethink your decision.

Toya just smiles, though- a soft upturn of the lips and a shake of his head, like a child just told him something silly.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with the parental clause.” You freeze. You were most certainly familiar with it, if the letters to congress and award-winning journalistic pieces on it weren’t enough to prove so. While it had been banned in a few places, your home had not caught up yet, and it was devastatingly still applicable.

The Parental Clause was instituted around the 1920’s, basically stating that if an Apex omega’s living standards with their parents or themselves are lesser than that with their mate, they can take full custody in court. The most controversial part of this clause, however, is that it extends well into the Omega’s adulthood.

It originally stemmed from Apex couples that consisted of a minor who had unsupportive parents, but was often used against “unruly�� Omegas who wanted independence despite their situation.

It was outdated back then and even more so now, but it was used so seldom and only in small claims court, so it was looked over by most people. Not you, though.

You had to live with that fear, and now your nightmare was coming to life.

“Please don’t,” you hate how meek you sound now. How they’re both so capable of changing your mood in seconds, “my mother doesn’t have anyone else.”

Toya pushes himself off with his foot, stepping towards you, practically oozing with poise and power. Kiego just watches him, unphased. You’re sure he knew this would happen.

“Then I want you here after school every day for dinner,” he walks around the island with a hand still on the granite, coming behind you and letting it wrap around your shoulders. He’s so, so warm against you, “and you can spend the night on the weekends.”

“I have a job,” you say as he presses his face into your neck. You shudder, hands clammy. Your body feels hot but the stone is still so cool against it.

“You’ll quit it, then- I’ll give you an allowance from now on.”

“I have a life, friends-” Kiego cuts you off.

“Like that little Alpha that was all over you this morning?”

“You reek of him,” Toya’s tongue presses against your still fresh mark and you jump, halfway falling out of your chair, but his arm keeps you in place, “our Omega doesn’t need trash like that rubbing off on her, does she?” He finally pulls away to look at his husband, and Kiego grins. His eyes are hooded as they drift between the two of you, Alpha scent heavy in the air.

You could puke.

“We’re not evil, (Y/N),” you could beg to differ, “if you have plans, just let us know. We’re understanding people.”

“Just stay away from people like that, okay, hun?” Kiego gives you a smile that’s probably meant to comfort you, but it only makes your throat feel a little tighter.

Kirishima… he was one of your best friends. He knew you better than anyone, and has been there for you when no one else was. Could you let that go?

You didn’t really have a choice, did you?

You nod weakly; you can’t bring yourself to look at them anymore.

Toya finally backs away from you and you finally feel like you can breathe again.

“We’ll ease into it though,” Toya smiles, back in his place against the sink, “don’t wanna scare you away.”

Well, that damage has already been done.

They take you home after a silent dinner. It was delicious, you hate to admit, but you were too nauseous to eat most of it. The two of them gave you grief over that, of course, but you couldn’t care less about it.

They were the reason you were like this, the reason that bile threatened its way up your throat whenever you curled into bed and found Kiri’s smell.

You surprised yourself when you didn’t cry, though- you’d done it so much, they must’ve dried out.

Your mom comes home an hour after you do, sending you a quick ‘you home?’ text, but you make up an excuse not to come down to see her.

‘sorry, playing a game! love you <3’

How would you explain this to her?

You don’t go to school again the next day, and you ignore the texts from Kiri and Denki asking if you’re alright.

But another text comes along with it, from a number you don’t quite recognize.

‘Need a ride, hun?’

You feel clammy. Sweat beads on your forehead at the thought of one of them driving you around anywhere, let alone where anyone can see you.

‘who is this?’ You send back cautiously- maybe it was the wrong number?

‘Kiego <3’

‘no’ is the last reply you give before you shut off the device completely. You know you didn’t give him this number, so how did he get it? How does he find out anything about you?

Kiego was a nutcase, that you were sure of, but what about Touya? You couldn’t really get a read on him, considering your… emotional circumstances, but you didn’t like him. He was an unpredictable variable, and you don’t exactly like that kind of spontaneity.

You’re fed up with all the worrying at this point, so you busy yourself with a video game and some YouTube to pass the time and take your mind off of things.

It’s only a few hours later when your doorbell rings and the resounding sound of your dog’s ‘woof’s flood the house. You instinctively reach for your phone to check the time, but remember that it’s off, and you’ve probably missed a lot of messages… maybe some from Kiego.

Is that him at your door? Waiting to tell you how worried he was, how much he loves you, how he and his husband can’t wait to legally kidnap you.

You hold the power button and pray for a quick startup, opening the device not to messages from Kiego, but from Kiri.

‘I’m outside; let me in?’ A sigh of relief makes its way out of you, and you hurry down the stairs to greet him. You had told him the code ages ago, but he still refuses to come in alone- always such a gentleman.

You throw the door open for him, a wry grin on your face.

It’s only when he looks down at you in distress that you realize.

You forgot your patches.

“So this is why you haven’t been around? And you didn’t think to tell me?” You and Kirishima are sitting on your bed, a stuffed animal tucked under your chin as you sit, close enough for your knees to touch.

“I…” You what, (Y/N)? You didn’t think you could trust your best friends? “I didn’t wanna jeopardize anything between us.” Kiri’s eyes soften at that. His hand reaches for yours, and he gives it a little squeeze.

“Nothing could change how I feel about you, (Y/N).” It’s comforting in a way you haven’t felt in months, and you feel your shoulders relax- things feel normal again.

You lay your head on his shoulder and let out a sigh, relief washing over you and leaving you with a sense of solace.

“Thank you, Kirishima; I can’t tell you how much that means to me.” Your eyes are closed, but you can still smell him clearly. He smells of cherries and mint, and a twinge of sweat- likely from the walk over to your house.

“Do you wanna… tell me about it? About your Apex bond, or… bonds, I guess.” You open your eyes at that, upturning them to look into his, still resting so closely to his face.

He has really pretty eyes…

“And tell me if I need to beat em’ up, okay?” You chuckle; he always knows how to make you feel better.

So you tell him, if only to take that weight off your shoulder. You tell him about how you met Kiego, how he ended up in your home, how he convinced you to come see his husband. How it was all inevitable anyways, how useless you feel, being pulled around by strings of faux fate. It’s not fate- it’s just genetics.

“Maybe we can just run away together, Kiri.” You joke, still curled up next to him. You feel so, so tired. Even thinking about those two is exhausting.

“We can join the circus or somethin’,” you feel his laugh reverberate through his body, “I’m sure we could think of an act.”

“I’d follow you into hell if you asked.” He says, not an ounce of a joke in his voice.

You don’t think about it, though. Disregard the implications, opting to close your eyes once more and drift off, his warmth and familiar scent around you.

You wake up to your phone ringing. It seems like Kiri had fallen asleep as well, but the little tune that plays from the device rouses you both with twin groans. It’s a number you don’t recognize at first, calmly hitting the ‘silence’ button and rubbing the sleep from your eyes- who answers the phone for numbers you don’t know?

But then it rings again, and a third time, so you decide that someone must've died and opt to pick it up.

“Hello?”

“(Y/N),” a low, familiar voice answers, “I’m coming to pick you up. I just left a meeting so I’ll be there in…” he pauses, likely checking the time, “ten minutes. Be ready.” Before you can utter a response, the phone clicks, and the call ends. Fucking Touya.

“Don’t tell me that's who I think it was,” Kirishima says, but you’re already fumbling out of bed.

“You’ve gotta leave immediately, and I’ve gotta take a bath in scent blocker.” You pull him off of your mattress and he groans but obliges, running a hand through his hair to try and fix the mess from the nap.

“What, are they territorial?” He jokes, but you just respond with a ‘yes’ and start pulling out some clothes to throw together an outfit.

“I mean it, Kiri! Ten minutes, and you need to be far enough away from my house that he doesn’t see you.”

“I got it, I got it,” He pulls on his shoes without tying the laces, “let me know if you need to be rescued.” He pulls you by your shirt, back hitting his chest, and wraps an arm around you for a quick hug. “I mean it, (Y/N). Anything you need.”

You give him a meek smile.

“Thank you,” You want to say more to him, tell him what it means to you, but you can’t find the words.

You end it at that, and he’s out the door the next minute.

You pull on some jeans and an old Radiohead shirt, a flannel thrown over top of it all and your dirty, written-on converse on your feet.

It’ll have to do.

You just finished tying your shoes when the next call comes, and you look out the front door’s windows to find another incredibly fancy car, sleek black and not anything you could name, but you know it costs more than anything you’ve ever owned combined.

You hurry out the door and into the front seat, last night’s conversation still ringing in your ears.

You could put up with it for your mother’s sake.

“What the hell are you wearing?”

You think.

Taglist: @mirayasimpinghard @kunaigirlx44 @dabis0bitch @ladywolf44005 @imunderurbed @jamerlynn @underratedmage @maggiecc  @chaichaiiskai @coffeeginie