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bratbarzal · 8 days

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On Your Side (NH13) / Chapter Five

Pairing: Nico Hischier x Fem!OC Poppy Jensen*

*I say it's an OC, it's just a name and third person POV. I use minor character descriptions because I don’t get on with writing vague reader inserts/YN for long-form, story heavy fics, but I will generally try to avoid including race and body type or really any physical descriptors. I’m always open to feedback on my writing, or how to be more inclusive.

WC: 17k (holy moly)

Chapter Warnings: I tried to sprinkle some fluffy flashbacks and smutty references later in here just to lighten the mood but this is angsty!! probably cursing I honestly can't remember, and serious warnings rn mentions of hacking/gossip blogs/blackmail/cyber bullying/nudes being leaked, talia is her own warning tbh. I tried not to make a cliched ex comes in between them plot and idk how it comes across but yeah I was trying to toe the line between it being interesting/different and then going too far and not being able to write around it which is why the plot kind of fixes itself quick and is a leeeetle bit bad but there's some unresolved bitterness in that relationship for sure lmao she has a LOT 2 say!! did I mention there's angst in here? insecurity/self-doubt and miscommunication!!! in abundance!!! but!! luke is a cutey patootie in this I wrote his part with a lil smile on my face 💖 also a ridiculous conversation about huffing glue lmao

Series Masterlist

Previous Part (Chapter Four)

A/N: ok so in the grand scheme of things this is both a filler chapter and also like a pivotal point in the story to set something later up, but when I was planning this entire fic out, the only directive I gave myself for this specific chapter was insert angst. you wouldn't believe the amount of times I've written and rewritten and gone back and forth on what's in here. it's the kind of instruction only a complete melon would give themselves and I clearly just hate myself in ways that are spooky and strange to submit myself to this kind of torture.

and I hear your cries of hasn’t this fic just been angst so far??? yes!! you may be correct!! but you don’t get a rainbow without a bit of rain hun!!! grab an umbrella!!! I promise good will come of this lmao

I'm sorry this one took so long, it's the only chapter I didn't have any kind of plan or direction for obviously and I tried to come up with so many different options for the talia plot before I landed on whatever this is, but the next one I do have some scenes written out in my plan so shouldn't be as long in between. my goal has always been a chapter a week but like I said the other day work has been a lot for me the past couple of weeks so I am genuinely sorry for making you wait!!

you guys were very fun and very kind to me after the last chapter so please please please lets keep the good vibes going come chat to me about your thoughts about the fic about the weather about anything!! 💓

Nico

When Nico and Talia had first started dating, there had been an element of excitement to the dynamic. Nico hadn’t properly dated anyone in a while - had casual flings here and there, and for the most part spent his time swallowing down his burgeoning feelings for his best friend - and there was a novelty to starting something with someone new.

He had all the intentions of building something serious with her. She was fun, got on with his friends, had ties close to home that meant he wouldn’t be putting a wedge between the two of them should he want to travel back in his breaks, and sinking his teeth into the challenges of a relationship was something that actually intrigued him.

He liked planning dates, liked buying gifts to see that buzz of joy and gratitude it would elicit, and he liked the companionship - liked having someone there when he came back from a long roadie or a tough string of games.

He liked it so much he never really opened his eyes to the fact that Talia didn’t.

She didn’t like the dates he planned - didn’t like the restaurants he chose, the movies he wanted to share with her, the bars him and the guys frequented. She didn’t like America, didn’t like their coffee shops, thought their pastries were packed with too much sugar, their portion sizes were too large for her ever to enjoy going for lunch, always complaining about feeling bloated and sluggish after every meal. She hated Jersey - wanted to spend all her time across the Hudson, looking down on everyone she met and everywhere they went together. She didn’t make much use of the gifts he bought her - let every bouquet of flowers die a quick, careless death, said the watch he bought her didn’t go with enough of her other jewellery and turned her nose up at every effort he made to make his apartment feel more like her home.

She wasn’t all that comforting when it came to companionship, either. Rolled her eyes when he came home aching and exhausted, went out without him on the days he was coming back from a roadie and returned home when he had long retired to his bed. She would always want to meet up with her girlfriends instead of hanging around the team, and only ever wanted to come to games if she could bring her own entourage - mostly to show off her connections and hardly ever to actually support him.

And so, despite the initial attraction, despite the excitement that first came with their blossoming relationship, Nico can only look at Talia with disinterest and frigidity now.

He barely greets her as he opens the door to his apartment, moving aside to let her in and waiting for her to trudge her small case in behind her before he closes it, leaning against the surface and watching her discard her bag and keys on the counter with familiarity.

When she turns to face him, running a hand through her hair and huffing out a big sigh, he takes in her dishevelled appearance.

Even when travelling, Talia usually takes great pride in her pristine exterior - hair blow-dried, outfit co-ordinated and steam-pressed to perfection, not a crease or stain in sight, and usually a light layer of makeup to cover the slight imperfections like the darkened under eyes and redness around her nose. This isn’t like her.

She looks like she’s been messing with her hair the whole 8 hour flight out and beyond, her eyes are rimmed-red with smudges of brown at the corners, her lips are chapped and swollen like she’s been crying, and her sweatpants don’t match her hoodie. It’s almost like she’d thrown on whatever she could find and caught the first flight out, fresh out of bed.

“What’s going on?” He cuts straight to the chase, losing all formality and courtesy. He should feel bad for his callous greeting, but she had broken up with him over text not even a month ago - she doesn’t exactly deserve outstretched arms and a warm embrace, he thinks.

“Hi Talia, how have you been, Talia? It’s nice to see you Talia.” She mocks, a frown overtaking her features immediately. “I’m absolutely amazing, thanks for caring, Nico!” Sarcasm spews from her tongue like pure venom, and his eyes practically roll into the back of his head.

Nico pushes himself off of the door, heavy footsteps leading him into his kitchen where he can make himself a coffee to get through this. His watch reads 6:05 - far too early for her antics - and rising to her nagging is only going to make things worse.

“Do you want a drink?” He asks, as he busies himself with his coffee press, unable to look at her too long without the pricks of guilt irritating him. He doesn’t even know what he has to feel guilty about.

“I’ll get it myself,” she scoffs, venturing over to the fridge and pouring out some orange juice - her movements around his space eerily natural. She slams back most of the drink as he works out how to brew his coffee - but she sees right through him. He’s hardly ever used the press before, and he’s just doing so now to avoid her in whatever capacity he can. “I need money.”

Nico’s almost positive he hasn’t heard her right - that there’s some kind of mix up between her standard German and his Swiss - and he slowly turns to properly face her, brows slanting into a deep frown as he assesses her expression.

She has a hand on her hip, her jaw set and her eyes darkened and serious.

“You have money.”

Talia comes from money - her father is some kind of film producer and her mother an artist, if Nico remembers correctly - and she makes good money, herself. She’s been a print model since she was scouted in some market in Munich since she was 15, has had her face plastered in ads in magazines and catalogues around the world. She’s hardly strapped for cash. She gets things gifted to her by whatever company she can get a hold of. What could she possibly need him to give her money for?

“Not enough.” Her tone is cold, her demeanour the same, and if Nico can still gauge her emotions correctly, there’s an element of blame that she is starting to shift towards him, and his whole body starts to feel tense.

“Not enough for what?”

He can’t quite tell what feeling washes over him - worry, at the thought she’s gotten herself into some kind of trouble, stress, at the thought this could be a recurring thing, and potentially pity, at the way she’s so clearly carrying the weight of something heavy - something she’s lugged all the way across the Atlantic on a long haul flight with her.

“Not enough to pay the guy who’s blackmailing me not to leak the videos that I sent to you.”

“What vide-“ he bites back, and the immediate arch of her brow tells him all he needs to know. “Oh.”

Shit.

“Oh? That’s all you have to say?” She sneers, fury in her gaze and dismay in her tone. “You’ve ruined my life, and all I get is an oh?”

“Whoa, slow down, I’ve ruined your life?”

Nico has never been one to shame any girl for sending explicit pictures - he’d been more than willing to receive them at the time - but he hadn’t ever forced her hand. He hadn’t even asked her for them, in the first place.

She’d taken it upon herself to spice things up, as she had put it at the time, when the team had gone on the road in early December. It was just after he’d returned from his injury - a time in which he’d spent mentally distanced from her as he’d focused so much on getting back to the game, their relationship consisting mainly of not-so-passionate sex to avoid aggravating his injury and hardly of any kind of meaningful conversation - and she had thought that keeping him on his toes on a roadie would mean he’d come back more interested than ever.

If he’d been looking out for red flags at the time, he might have caught that blaring one; needing to try new things only a few months into a relationship to keep it fun and light.

He’d been in his hotel room in Seattle, freshly showered and ready to throw himself straight into bed when his phone had started to ping. It was suggestive texts at first, are you alone? And I’m thinking about you. Then it had been pictures, hands over lingerie and fingers between glossy, pouted lips.

And then videos, one after the other before he had any chance to respond - her phone set up far enough away that her whole body was in frame, touching herself while laying on his bed and calling out for him.

He had called her instead of sending anything back, and as he realises the severity of the situation, a selfish part of him is glad he did so.

“Talia, I didn’t even save those videos, and I definitely didn’t show them to anyone else.”

Nico could never. Not only for the fact that he was raised to be a decent human being, but he has a sister - if anyone ever did that to Nina, he’d tear them apart, limb from limb.

“You’re the only person I’ve ever sent anything to.” She seems to have made her mind up, and Nico feels as if his heart plummets through his torso at the realisation. She’s travelled all this way because she genuinely believes he’s the cause of this - that he’s shared intimate videos of her without her consent, to someone who would extort her for them. “And he sent me some pictures as proof, had information about me like the address of this apartment.”

“Talia, I swear on my mother’s life, I wouldn’t do that to you - to anyone, not ever.”

Tears well in her crystalline eyes, and Nico waits with bated breath as she assesses the situation in her head.

He isn’t a liar - he has never given her a reason to think he is one. In their time together, he had always been honest, always been loyal, and he hopes at the very least - despite her obvious distain for him now, and how little she ended up caring about their relationship in the end to cut it off in the way she did - she thought of him as kind.

He can do nothing but be patient, let her come to whatever conclusion on her own, and it’s only when he spots the quiver in her bottom lip that he takes an apprehensive step forward, ready to console her if needed.

She practically throws herself into his arms, wrapping her own around his waist and bawling into his chest, and all he can do is hold her and wait. He tries to rub a soothing hand up and down her back, holding the other against her head as her body wracks with sobs. All he can feel is the pounding of his own heartbeat, pulsing throughout his entire body until it’s all he can hear, too.

Nico does his best to comfort her, shushing and cooing and whispering how it’s going to be alright, but it does little to help. She’s beyond relief.

“There’s a guy who said he can track whoever is doing this to me,” she sniffles as she pulls herself away. “He’s in Jersey City Heights, he’s some sort of ethical hacker, whatever that means, I’m going to meet him and he’s gonna go through my phone.”

“Do you want me to come with you?” Nico doesn’t even hesitate to ask - if not to protect her, and make sure she isn’t unknowingly getting herself into an even more dangerous situation, then to protect himself too. If someone has Talia’s pictures, and she only sent them to him, there’s a possibility his phone had been hacked, and if this guy is as ethical as he says, maybe he can check Nico’s stuff, too, just to be safe.

She gives him an appreciative smile, eyes still glassy and cheeks flushed. “I’d really appreciate that.”

“I’m gonna shower, then we can go. You can grab whatever to eat while you’re waiting.” He backs away from her completely, only just able to acknowledge the ache in his muscles once the intensity of the situation has settled a little, and he just needs to stand under the steaming spray and clear his mind before he properly immerses himself in her company.

He has a lot more than this whole mess that he needs to think about, and maybe a shower can bring him a little clarity on how exactly he’s going to explain himself to the beautiful girl whose bed he had abruptly left not even an hour ago.

“Why are you dressed?”

Nico stops in his tracks.

When he had got back to his apartment, he’d made a little effort for it to seem like he’d been there all night. He’d gone through to his bedroom, mussed up his sheets to make it seem like he had been sleeping in them - and not with the anticipation that Talia was going to be entering his bedroom, but with her, he never knows - trying to retrace the steps of his usual routine before he goes to bed, he had closed all the blinds, had moved his gym bag by the door.

But he hadn’t changed.

Still adorned in his sweatshirt and jeans from the night before, the clothing feels all that much heavier on his body as she brings attention to it, and he quickly racks his brain to come up with a valid excuse that doesn’t rouse further suspicion.

“I fell asleep in these clothes.” As easy as the lie comes out, he doesn’t feel great saying it. Doesn’t feel like erasing the night he had shared with Poppy is for the greater good, even if it is just to Talia, but avoiding another difficult conversation is a must right now - especially when he’d already lied to her on the phone. “Was out late with the guys last night, Timo threw a party for my birthday.”

“Right,” she drags out, and when he turns back around, she casts a scrutinising glance over him, top to bottom. “Sorry, I forgot.”

“No worries,” he shrugs, genuinely not offended. She has no reason to remember his birthday. Not anymore. “Like I said, help yourself to whatever, I’ll try not to be long.”

When he undresses for his shower, he’s thankful he hadn’t had the foresight to change in anticipation of Talia’s arrival. He probably would have donned a t-shirt and some shorts, oblivious to the visible indents on his thighs where Poppy had dug her nails in as she took him in her mouth.

His chest and torso are littered with scratches, some faint, some a little deeper, and he can’t get the right angle to see his back but he imagines they’re the same - the memory of her clutching at him as both of their climaxes approached is vivid enough for him to picture the marks she left behind.

He groans as the thought of her brings back that swirling feeling in the pit of his stomach, as he notices the blooming arousal pool there, and feels himself harden as he steps under the spray of his shower.

If his phone had been on do not disturb through the night, he could be in the shower with Poppy, instead.

He could have woken up to her in his arms, could have pecked at her sleep-swollen lips until it brought her out of her slumber, and spent his morning making up for lost time just like he had promised her last night. He could have made light work of the pleasure he had given her the night before - could have had her underneath him in her bed, tangled up in the mess of sheets and falling apart before they shared a morning shower, where he’d have held her up against the tiles and would’ve moved into her until they couldn’t tell where he ended and she began. He’d have made her breakfast, something sweet, so that as she sat and watched him atop the kitchen counter he had tasted her on for the first time not even 12 hours before, he’d press his tongue into her mouth after she had eaten and savour the flavour of strawberries that had settled between her lips.

Instead, he’s here, turning the temperature of his water down until any and all excitement in his body is dampened, and all he can focus on is the effect the cold has on all his other aching muscles.

Once he has showered and gotten dressed - and has come to the conclusion that any further thoughts about Poppy need to wait until the Talia problem is resolved and out of his hands, he finds his ex girlfriend sprawled across his couch, music playing from the speaker in the corner, and taking helping herself to a whole new level.

Her case is opened where she had left it by the door, and she’s set herself a little vanity up on his coffee table, fixing her appearance before they leave.

She’s changed out of her mismatched sweats, has dressed herself in jeans and a sweater, and has found an extension cable long enough for her to plug in whatever hot tool she’s currently running through her hair.

“You take the longest showers in the history of man,” she rolls her eyes, not even casting a glance his way as she focuses on her own reflection in the little mirror she must have brought with her. “I do not want to know what it is you get up to in there.”

“I was barely 30 minutes, are you ready to go?”

“Yeah, almost,” she runs the tool through her bangs until they flick out at the edges on either side of her face, and it reminds him of all the times he had watched her while waiting for her to finish getting ready. It makes him feel uneasy how familiar it all is, how she’s so quickly made herself at home again in his space.

He wants to tell her she needs to pack her stuff back up, that she won’t be staying here and needs to give his keys back, but the weight of the situation at hand dawns on him before he can open his mouth.

He’ll wait until they get back later, his decision depending on the outcome of their visit to her hacker friend.

As much as he doesn’t want her around, he isn’t going to kick her out with no place to go if her life is still shrouded in unsafe circumstances.

Talia unplugs her stuff, wraps the cord around the handle of the brush she was using, and places it on a mat she must have brought with her so it doesn’t burn through the surface of the table. “Kay, let’s go.”

She marches ahead of him, picking up her bag and keys on the way out and leaving him to lock up while she calls for the elevator. They wait together in silence, his heart thudding an anxious rhythm in his chest as he anticipates the arrival of the elevator - and thankfully, it arrives empty.

He tries to distance himself from her as they enter, him standing in one corner, and hoping she takes the other, but she doesn’t quite get the memo, standing obliviously in the centre as she types away to someone on her phone and he presses the button to go to the basement.

Nico watches the numbers go down with bated breath. His floor, the next, the next one after that, and he uses any good will he has left with the universe to hope and pray it skips the floor coming up - but, as is just his luck, the elevator comes to a stop with a soft thud, and the doors open to reveal the very situation he’s been hoping to avoid.

Jack walks straight in, eyes cast down to the phone in his hands, distractedly typing away and not even noticing the button for the parking level has been pressed before he pushes it, himself.

Luke notices straight away, halting in his movements to enter the space as his gaze flickers between the two people already occupying it.

He diverts his eyes when they meet Nico’s head dropping as he steps in and stands beside his brother, uttering a quick greeting of, “Hey, Cap.”

Jack’s attention is captured immediately, spinning at an almost dizzying speed to face his captain, phone disregarded into his back pocket. “Schao! I thought you’d be at-,”

He’s thankfully able to tune into his perception before he carries on with his train of thought, a subtle movement in his peripheral diverting his gaze to the figure stood to the side of Nico.

“Talia. Hi.”

“Hi, Jack.” Nico cringes inwardly at how disinterested she sounds. “Luke.” Talia had never really cared for Nico’s teammates - especially not the younger guys like Jack and Luke. She was quick to pass judgement, making comments on their maturity, or apparent lack-thereof, and wasn’t the biggest fan of how close Nico was with the pair. Didn’t like the time or attention he gave them considering the close quarters they lived in, and had always been resentful. She always claimed her English wasn’t good enough to hold a proper conversation with them, but he’d seen her enough around her American friends to know it wasn’t true.

“We’re just meeting up with some of the guys for breakfast.” Jack says, cautiously, in an attempt to fill the silence. The invitation remains unspoken, but Nico can tell in the way the younger boy cocks his head and meets his eye that he’s gauging his current situation for the morning.

“We have plans.” Talia must be able to tell what he was getting at, too and Nico can see Luke’s eyes narrow as soon as the word resonates in his head. Plans. Pre-meditated. Made before she had sprung all of this on him within the last hour or two. Panic stirs within him, and his throat itches to speak the truth, but it’s just not the right time to do so with Talia stood beside him. If he starts getting defensive, she’ll start asking questions, and the boys will have to bear witness to him skirting around the matter of Poppy.

It’s not a good look no matter which way he swings it. He’s stuck in a thick, dark, tarry mess of not wanting to hurt anyone’s feelings but making all the wrong decisions. A minefield of not knowing how to explain himself without raising a million questions on either side, and hoping one of the brothers might toe the line of the boundaries of their relationship and just straight up ask why Talia is here.

He knows he has fucked up without the way neither of them are looking him in the eye.

He knew it the second Poppy’s door had locked behind him this morning - he doesn’t need Luke refusing to meet his gaze, doesn’t need Jack’s shifting side eye to tell him he’s made a mistake.

“I’ll text you later.” Nico says, mainly to Jack but still trying to meet his brother’s eyes with no luck. It’s an attempt to say something, without saying anything. A silent beg not to jump to conclusions about what they’ve seen - and, although he knows they wouldn’t, not to tell anyone else. Not whichever of the guys they are meeting up with, not anyone else on the team, and definitely not Poppy.

“Yeah, sure,” Jack mutters in a poor attempt to hide his discomfort, and an even worse attempt at masking his relief when the doors ping open on the parking level.

“Have fun with your plans,” Luke huffs out, his tone like a tight fist clutching at Nico’s chest despite his courteous choice of words.

“We will,” Talia forces a smile. Nico gets the feeling she isn’t as oblivious to the tension as he hopes she is.

The four of them separate into their pairs with mumbled goodbyes, Jack and Luke heading off to Luke’s car on one side of the garage, and Nico and Talia heading to his on the other, and Nico can’t even let out a sigh of pseudo-relief before Talia jumps on him.

“That was weird.”

“We broke up, they weren’t expecting to see us together.” He quickly excuses as he starts the car up, turning on the heat and hoping the soft buzz of the air will fill the silence enough that she doesn’t feel the need to talk.

“It’s been like 3 weeks, most couples get back together after their first breakup.”

Has it only been 3 weeks? He thinks, shuddering at how little time had actually passed between her sending that text and him restoring balance to his life.

“We’re not most couples,” he shrugs, shutting that train of thought immediately as he starts to make his way out of the parking garage, ascending the ramp where the doors open up to reveal the dull beam of the winter morning sun. “You dumped me over text a week before Christmas, we’re not getting back together.”

“Oh yeah, I bet you were real cut up about it,” she jibes, sarcastically. “Probably landed straight in the bed of some desperate puck bunny more than happy to take your mind off of how awful I was to you.”

His mind immediately goes to Poppy, to last night, to her bed - and despite the complete bullshit Talia has fabricated in her head, despite how much he wants to tell her she has it all wrong, he can’t bear to twist himself even further into knots to skirt around mentioning the girl who did make him better.

“We’re not having this conversation right now.” He decides, tapping at the screen in the console of his car until he brings up the navigation. “Put in the address you need, we’re not too far from The Heights.”

The location she enters into the system is for an unassuming condo in a quiet, suburban area. The neighbourhood itself is picturesque, the buildings colourful, the paths lined with trees that seemed to flourish even in the midst of winter, and when Nico pulls up across the street, he notices the amount of families around - parents walking their kids to school and couples with dogs getting their morning steps in. It’s the last place he imagines some hacker to be shacked up, but maybe that’s the point.

He still doesn’t entirely understand the ethical part.

“It’s the one with the red brick and the balcony,” Talia points to the other side of the road as she unbuckles her seatbelt, and Nico looks over at the building as if he’s going to be able to see all the secrets stored within it.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, number 414.” She shows him the messages she has exchanged with the guy, and sure enough, the address matches up. “C’mon, the sooner we get in there, the sooner we can figure this out.”

He follows her across the street, adjusting the cap he wears atop his head and making sure it conceals his identity from anyone with eyesight good enough to catch it, trying to shrug off the discomfort of the whole situation as he waits for someone to pick up the buzzer Talia relentlessly presses.

He hears a different kind of buzz, lighter, like the manual zoom of a camera, and cranes his neck to assess their surroundings as they wait, before he catches sight of the device in the top corner of the porch, facing directly onto them.

He hears the click of a lock as soon as his eyes make contact with the thing, and cautiously tries the handle on the door until it pushes all the way down, letting them into the building.

The door to the ground floor condo is open, and stood in the entrance is a guy no older than 20, dressed in all black with dark, beady eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. If Nico could find it in him to see the humour in the situation, he’d laugh at how he looks like Luke - a mop of curly brown hair, tall with a slim build and ever so slightly poor posture.

He straightens up as the two of them approach, Nico keeping Talia behind him as he assesses the safety of the situation. If they’re being lured into some kind of trap, he could definitely take this guy - he can’t even maintain direct eye contact, never mind manage to subdue a man of Nico’s stature.

“You didn’t tell me you were bringing someone, Talia.”

He’s soft-spoken, his voice ever so nasally, and despite the fact that he’s talking to the girl behind him, his gaze has settled on Nico’s chest.

“My name’s Nico.” He introduces himself, holding out a hand to shake. He thinks he can write him off as a threat, for now, and if making him feel comfortable encourages him to help them, he wants to put him at ease. “

“I know who you are.” He doesn’t shake Nico’s hand. “I’m Myles. Come in.”

Myles doesn’t wait for the two of them, marching back into his place and leaving the door open for Talia and Nico to enter and close behind them.

Nico isn’t surprised by the space - from his brief encounter with the resident so far, it fits him to a tee; neat, impersonal, furniture that looks fresh out of a catalogue. He follows him over to the corner of his living room, a PC set up with several monitors that he can’t tell are on until they’re standing straight in front of them.

Myles throws himself down into the large swivel chair, spinning until he’s facing the two of them and crossing his arms over his torso with disinterest. “So, nudes?”

Straight to the point. Nico can’t exactly be mad at it.

Talia steps out from behind him, handing her unlocked phone to Myles. “The messages started last week, just after New Years. Straight to my number, not in DMs or anything, but the number doesn’t even come up for me to call it from another phone or anything, just says unknown.”

Myles takes her phone and plugs it into his setup without even looking at whatever she has opened on it, and Nico watches as the screens come alive with mirrors of the device and some other apps that launch as soon as it connects.

“That’s more helpful than you think, they have to use an app to be able to anonymously text you, makes it easier to identify them.”

The way Myles talks is monotonous and detached, but the way he works is anything but. His fingers move quicker than Nico’s eyes can track on his keyboard, typing away at whatever as different things flash up and leave his screen. It like something straight out of a spy movie.

“So we can find out who it is just from that?” He asks, arms folding over his chest as he watches in almost-awe.

“Not exactly. If it is a hacker, I could identify their signature. Doesn’t mean I could identify them, but we can work around it potentially.”

Talia throws herself down on the couch behind them exasperatedly, sighing loudly and making her displeasure known. “You told me you could track them down, that’s what I’m paying you to do.”

“I told you I could help you, I didn’t say I could specifically track anyone, that’s not how this works.”

“How does it work then?” Nico asks.

Myles wheels his chair to the side to make room for Nico to get closer, and starts walking him through the process, pointing through the different apps he uses and explaining how he uses them. One deciphers which app the person used to message Talia. Once that’s been deduced, he uses another to enter a backdoor into that app’s servers, perusing through them until he finds the account that sent the text, making sure the date, time and then content line up. Once he’s found the account, he can see the other texts sent from it, and a gallery spreads across two screens, with maybe hundreds of pictures, videos, messages and transactions all to or from that same account.

“You’re telling me you have the power to do all this and you don’t use it to like rob banks or something?”

“Ethical hacker, clue’s in the name.” Myles shrugs. Nico looks back to Talia, her jaw set as she picks at her nails out of boredom. It’s probably taken about fifteen minutes for this guy to work an absolute miracle, and she looks like she couldn’t care less. “We use all this information, and the access I have on the server, to shut this dude down and cut his con before he can do it to anyone else.”

“Whoa whoa,” Talia shoots up, “Won’t that make him mad? Make him just post all the photos?”

“I doubt it,” the hacker comments, bringing up a couple of the photos on the screens, some of Talia, some of another girl, making Nico divert his eyes. “They’re not even real.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Excuse me?”

Talia and Nico both question at the same time, leaning in to get a proper look to confirm what is being told to them. The other pictures Myles had brought up, the ones of other girls, are actually kind of the same. The same poses, the same backgrounds, the same outfits, or lack thereof, just different faces and different hair.

“They’re called deep fakes. Photoshop, essentially.” He has that aloof tone to his words again, and Nico can’t quite believe how simple it seems for him to say. “They put a bunch of your pictures into an AI generator and give it instruction, like put this face on a body posed like this or wearing that. I’d assume the video they have is the same.”

“How is that even possible?” Talia gasps, pushing herself forward and snatching the mouse from Myles’ grasp. She clicks into what she assumes is the video, and it starts playing before she can think better of it, thankfully without any sound.

It’s Talia - that much is obvious from the initial close up of her face - but Nico doesn’t recognise anything else about it. He doesn’t recognise the room she’s in, the bed she’s on, the things she’s doing. He’s never seen this before. It’s definitely not one of the videos she had sent him, and when he looks closer, he realises the little moles on her ribs aren’t even there.

None of it is real.

“You said he sent you the photos? You didn’t realise they weren’t the ones you took?” He can’t conceal the bite in his tone, his brows furrowing as he looks at her in disbelief. She’s flown out here, disrupted his peace, blamed him for blackmailing her, and she can’t even recognise what is or isn’t her own body.

“They looked real, I-,” Her shock disappears as quickly as it had come about, her mood shifting and a glare all of a sudden being directed at her ex boyfriend. “I wouldn’t have accused you if they didn’t look real, Nico.” She snaps, frowning at him like this is his fault. “You have no idea what it’s like to be threatened like that, I won’t have you blame me for panicking.”

Slivers of guilt seep into his subconscious, and he takes a deep breath, diverting his gaze uneasily and letting out a big sigh.

He knows he should be a little more compassionate, but there’s panicking, and then there’s this.

She had accused him of ruining her life.

“What about the rest of it?” Nico asks, “Like how did he get her number or have my address? You said he had other information?”

“He did,” Talia nods, looking over to Myles.

“The address he probably got when he got your number, and he could have got that from anywhere. Could be something as small as you ordering something online and the store having a data breach, or clicking a link that shared your IP address, and getting your phone information from that.” Myles starts his typing again, keeping a tight grip on his mouse so that it can’t be snatched again. “I could probably find out actually, they’re pretty easy to spot, do you clear your history often?”

“I wouldn’t even know how to do that,”

“Perfect,” Again, his fingertips work at lightening speed, and Nico watches as instagram opens on one of the screens. “Yeah, a DM sent to you from… Devils_tea. You opened a link to a shared drive to upload some pictures, the drive probably had malware and the pictures have location metadata.”

Nico rolls his eyes, that small ebb of pity washing almost completely away, and before Talia can stop him, Myles carries on. “Some of the pictures you sent them are the ones they used for the AI photos, look your face in this one is the exact same as this photo they threatened to leak.”

Nico recognises these photos. The ones that had been plastered all over social media when their relationship had leaked. Pictures of them back in Switzerland, on a weekend trip to Ibiza, selfies of them in his apartment, and even a picture of the two of them with his parents back at his family home in Valais.

He has been far too oblivious to Talia’s games for far too long, he realises.

Of course she had been the one to leak everything - who else would have had those photos - but he hadn’t even considered it would be her; she had faced the harshest aftermath for it, why would she subject herself to all the subsequent grief that came with people knowing about their relationship?

Thank God for this guy’s lack of social cues, Nico thinks, or he would never have known that for as long as they had been together, she had been violating his revered privacy and trust.

“Nico, that wasn’t-,” Talia’s panic is evident, wide eyes, trembling hands raised in defence, “I must have been hacked,”

“Actually, there’s no-,” Myles begins to interject, fingers working again to fact check, but Nico doesn’t need him to validate what he already knows.

“Shut up,” Talia snarls, with a finger pointed at him, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, we’re done here.” She reaches forward to snatch her phone back, yanking out the wire that connects it to his monitors and throwing it onto the desk. “We’re leaving, and if you think I’m paying you anything, you’re deluded.”

Talia marches past them and straight out of the condo, slamming every door she possibly can behind her. Nico can only cringe as the sounds of her stomping footsteps echo until they fade out - until she’s probably outside and waiting for him back at his car.

“Doesn’t she want me to shut this thing down?”

“I’ll pay you.” Nico sighs, reaching into his pocket for his phone and trying to push down the feeling that arises when he’s met with a blank lock screen.

Poppy hasn’t messaged him.

Not that he deserves for her to make it easy, to let him off the hook and pretend he hasn’t royally fucked things up with her.

“If you stop him, does he still have all the photos? He could still release them?”

“Yeah, but they’re pretty easy to validate as fakes, especially when you have the source material. I don’t think this guy is sophisticated enough for a full blown hack into her phone for the real thing. I couldn’t find evidence of any breach of her cloud or her device.”

Nico nods, but the information does little to quell the anxiety that squeezes his chest in a vice-like grip.

This whole morning has been nothing but a giant waste of his time. From the second his eyes opened, to this moment right now, he’s made nothing but mistakes.

Not putting his phone on sleep mode before he and Poppy went to bed had been a mistake. Taking Talia’s call had been a mistake. Not waking Poppy up had been a mistake. Leaving without a note, without a text, leaving at all - it had all been one error after another, and all he has left to do is face up to the fact.

He can’t do anything to dwindle the panic rousing in every fibre of his being, the scarring marks left by torturous lashings of regret that whip at his skin.

He’s never felt so ashamed of himself, in such disbelief at his own decisions.

Why didn’t he just wake her?

She’s the most level-headed, acceptable person he knows. She would have understood. He hadn’t had a reasonable explanation at the time, and he doesn’t really have one now - but she would have accepted it, whatever he could have told her, she would have listened, waited until he could give her more.

He needs to see her, to explain, before it’s too late.

If he thinks about the feeling settling in his stomach, if he can compare it to anything, it’s like running from a blazing inferno of doubt and insecurity, licks of fire racing to catch up to him, the soles of his feet pressing into the sizzling ground - and Poppy is the cool embrace of safety.

She is light cracking through a window he just needs to break through to make it out.

If he can get to her quick enough, if he runs, and runs, maybe he’ll make it before he’s jiggling at a red hot handle that won’t move, won’t give, won’t budge.

If he can just talk to her, maybe the morning from hell will be outweighed by the days of resilience, weeks of efforts, years of loving her in whatever capacity, and the promise of something better.

He just needs to get rid of Talia.

The car journey back to his apartment is carried out in a deafening silence. She had tried to talk to him when he’d made his way out of Myles’ condo, when he had found her waiting by his Mercedes with crossed arms and a sour look on her face, but he’d told her he didn’t want to hear it, that they’d deal with it in private.

He hardly wanted a showdown with her in the middle of the street.

And so, she sat in his passenger seat, jaw set, glaring out the window and letting out the occasional huff or puff for attention that he wasn’t entertaining.

The elevator ride up to his place had been the same. Silent, filled with the type of tension you could cut with a knife, and all he could do was ignore her continued petulance and take deep breaths to calm himself down. In through his nose, out through his mouth, overlooking the way she tapped her foot in his peripheral vision, and almost audibly rolled her eyes every few seconds.

“Would it have killed you to defend me in there?” She scoffs as soon as the door closes behind them in his apartment, “You just let him accuse me of all that stuff and completely invade my privacy!”

Nico screws his eyes shut and pinches the bridge of his nose.

He can’t blow up, can’t stoop to her level. He won’t feel good after the fact. He knows how Talia operates, should have known she’d immediately play the victim card, and he isn’t falling into the trap of arguing to the point of being in the wrong.

He’ll say something he regrets and she’ll use it to her advantage, somehow.

“You asked him to go through your phone, Talia.” He sighs, making his way over to the kitchen and getting himself some water. Chugging at it does little to soothe the burning feeling prickling at the back of his mouth, or the itch of his tongue to spit out a scathing retort. “He’s shut down the guy behind it, he can’t message you or anyone else with any more threats, you should be happy.”

“I should be happy?” She follows him wherever he tries to get away, crowding his space and jabbing a pointed finger into his arm. “You have no idea what I’ve been going through this past week. I thought my career was over! How was I supposed to know it was fake?”

“You didn’t even look at the pictures-,”

“Because I was panicking! I was upset, you can’t expect me to be able to recognise what’s been photoshopped when I’m scared like that!”

“But you can fly straight over here and pin the blame on me for ruining your life? You weren’t too upset to point the finger, Talia,”

“Don’t be an asshole, Nico, it doesn’t suit you.”

“I’m being the asshole? You don’t even care about the trail of destruction you leave behind you, do you? You send private pictures of us, of me, of my family to random people online who you don’t even know, for what, Talia? For money?”

“I don’t need their money-,”

“So it was just for the attention? You get to parade our relationship around like it means nothing more to you than a title, and once you get your fifteen minutes and a few more instagram followers, you just jet back home and dump me over a text?”

“Oh my God,” she cries, flailing her arms dramatically, following him yet again as he makes his way into his living room, picking her stuff up after her that she had discarded here before they left and throwing it into her travel bag. “Stop playing the victim, for Christ’s sake, you’re hardly heartbroken over it. I know for a fact you’ve been hooking up with someone, one of the girls messaged me that they saw you leave a party with her on New Years!”

“So that’s what this is?” Nico snaps, pointing to her, to her stuff, “You think I’m moving on so you fly back out here and spring this bullshit on me, try to make me feel bad?”

“You have some nerve, Nico,” Talia scoffs, folding her arms across her chest and levelling him with a darkened glare.

“I have nerve? You’re the one who broke up with me out of nowhere and think that you can just march back here and make demands, Talia, blaming me for something that was entirely your own doing.” He’s getting sick of walking on egg shells around the topic. If she hadn’t have been messaging people she wasn’t supposed to, this would never have happened - it’s no one’s fault but her own, and as harsh as it may be, he wants to wash his hands of the whole thing. “Calling me in the middle of the night, telling me I ruined your life, saying I need to give you money?”

“Out of nowhere?” Of course she would only pick up on that, he thinks. “My God, you are so self-absorbed.”

“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Do you think that dating you is easy?” She questions with a measured step toward him. “Do you think I want to spend my life waiting around for my boyfriend, only for him to only ever come home grumpy,” another step, “Or whiny,” and another, “Or too tired and achey to do anything? And that’s when you do come home at all and aren’t half way across the country with the communication skills of a candle. It’s a constant uphill battle trying to get even a second of your attention, Nico, so God forbid I tried to gain some kind of advantage from being with you.”

Her words are starting to cut, but he tries not to react, tries not to bite back. He can count several ways in which she gained an advantage being with him, just off the top of the head - a girl like Talia is never shy of attention. Her courting gossip blogs and sending them private information is probably just scraping the barrel of the ploys she made for exposure while she was with him.

“I didn’t break up with you out of nowhere, I put up with you and the whole circus that comes with you for months, but God, is it exhausting being with you.”

“You knew what you were getting into, Talia. You knew my job, knew my life.” They had met initially through mutual friends - hockey friends of his back home, even - and she has other friends who happen to be wives or girlfriends of athletes. She can’t say she came into the relationship completely oblivious to the downsides of dating a professional player.

“Not really,” she shrugs, “All the other guys can find some sort of balance, but not you. All the other girls get a proper boyfriend, someone who spends time doing what they want to do, who sticks up for them when their psycho fans start to turn on them, who doesn’t keep them hidden away like some dirty secret.”

“That isn’t fair, I can’t control that stuff, Talia, it’s not my fault.” He wants to point out that she was the one engaging in their gossip and riling them up, but he can’t keep harping on about something she refuses to acknowledge. He doesn’t have the time, patience or energy for it anymore.

The initial ‘leaking’ of their relationship had caused their first major fight. Fans online had somehow - although Nico can now hazard a guess as to how - found out about the two of them, had dug into Talia, her background, her family, her job, and had found some pretty toxic posts on her social media. They had been old posts, and she had told Nico that wasn’t the kind of person she was anymore - and he had no reason not to believe her, had never seen or heard her act in the ways she had online in what she called her misguided youth - but someone in the PR department at the Devils had cottoned onto the topic, and had warned Nico of speaking out in her defence when the pitchforks started to raise.

He’d told her he supported her, but he couldn’t do so publicly - not without upsetting people within the organisation he had worked so hard to gain the respect of - and she had told him she understood. They hadn’t been together that long, it would have been a little unreasonable for him to put her above his work in the ways she was expecting, but she clearly doesn’t see it that way, now.

“Maybe not, but if I’d have known that being with you meant having my life invaded, my career ruined, I never would have followed you back here, Nico.” She sounds more solemn now - regretful, even - and as deep as her words cut, she says it like a piece of advice, “I just hope whatever poor girl you’ve got tangled up in your mess this time knows what she’s getting herself into.”

“And what’s that?” His throat feels tight as he speaks all of a sudden, his resolve in defending himself fading, and he tries to gulp down whatever lump is forming there but the feeling doesn’t budge.

This is what she’s good at.

Turning the tables. Reducing him to uncertainty of himself, of his actions, of his memory of their time together.

“A one-sided relationship with a guy who will never be able to put her first.”

There’s a point in every game he has ever had the misfortune of losing, as the seconds count down in the final third, where he has to come to terms with the fact that there’s no possible way for him to win. It’s sort of comparable to the way his insides churn when he’s on a plane and it drops into descent, like his body is falling at a different speed to his surroundings, or the feeling he gets in his gut when he’s hiking, and he dares to take a peek over the edge of whatever mountainside he’s trekking up, where his body can predict the fall, and his mind has set on there being nothing he can do about it.

This feels like all those feelings.

“Whoever she is, and I know she exists, she doesn’t deserve that. It’s not fair.”

Nico’s heart pounds in his chest, echoing and thrumming in his ears until all he can hear is the beat reverberating, ricocheting around his skull.

He can put Poppy first.

So many parts of their lives are intertwined, it would be so easy to make it work. They work together, they live close, he speaks to her more than he speaks to anyone else in his circle. They’ve spent more time together as friends than he has with any other girlfriend he’s had.

He’s wanted her for years, of course he can do it.

Except, deep down, he knows he can’t. Being in a committed relationship with someone is an entirely different ball game to a friendship, no matter how close he and Poppy have been over the years.

He knows there’ll come a point soon into the season where he has to knuckle down and focus, can’t let anything or anyone distract him, and he’ll close himself off. It’s what he has always done. He gets in his head, starts to carry too much weight that he can’t shift until that final buzzer blows - and he can only hope that it happens with his team in the playoffs. Winning, thriving, succeeding. And for that to happen, he can’t prioritise anything other than the game he’s already dedicated his life to, his training, and most importantly, his team.

It isn’t about what he wants.

What have you done? He thinks, his chest aching.

Talia is right.

Poppy doesn’t deserve that.

She doesn’t deserve him only being there in the physical sense, if she even gets that at all. Doesn’t deserve him getting snappy and stressed, doesn’t deserve him not being able to give her time, or give her attention or affection like he wants to, or like she’s worthy of.

“I need to go.” He manages to choke out with a shake of his head, shouldering past her to pick up his jacket - needing to be out of this conversation and away from Talia. “Leave the keys, I don’t want you here when I get back.”

He needs to see Poppy.

He never should have left her - he wishes with everything in him that he had soaked up the time he had with her before everything came tumbling down around him. And somewhere deep within him, there is a fragile, wilting piece of hope that clings to the belief he can make things right. He just needs her to hone in on it. If anyone can reach into the deepest cracks of his insecurities, can show him he’s overthinking things and everything is not as hopeless as he has made it out to be, it will be Poppy.

Poppy

The first time Poppy had ever fallen asleep beside Nico was at a movie night in Jack’s old apartment he shared with Ty Smith. Jack had invited more people round than could reasonably fit in their living room, and so everyone was smushed in - each chair and every inch of floor space used to its full capacity.

Nico had attempted to save Poppy a space, to give him credit. He had scowled at each of his teammates who tried to throw themselves down in the tiny slot beside him - prime space, corner of the comfiest couch, facing the tv directly, a small table to the side where one could keep their drinks and snacks - only, by the time Poppy got there, he had barely gotten away with man-spreading to make room, so the small section of the couch between Nico and the arm rest had become her designated spot.

It was cosy, to put it nicely. He had to swing his arm over the back so that she wasn’t being assaulted by the hard dig of his shoulder with every laugh, and her closest leg was pretty much on top of his for most of the film.

She’d known the guys for almost a year - had been working in media, attending every game, home and away, and had integrated herself into the group pretty closely - and she felt pretty comfortable around everyone.

It wasn’t the kind of dynamic she had anticipated falling into when she first got the job with the Devils. She was supposed to start getting serious about her life - cracking down on mingling with co-workers and throwing herself into new social circles, and focusing on building a career for herself, climbing through the ranks and attaining the kind of success and happiness she could shove in her family’s disapproving faces - but the guys had charmed her.

Jack had been somewhat relentless in his pursuit of Poppy’s friendship. He rarely took no for an answer when it came to inviting her out. He was new to New Jersey - a much younger player in a slightly older team - and his rookie season had been rough, so it came naturally to Poppy to want to provide comfort. She introduced him to some of her friends, showed him her favourite spots close to his apartment, found him a decent barber, picked up extra fruit whenever she went to the farmers market near her parent’s house and took it over to his and Ty’s place when she came back home so she could mother him into having his 5-a-day as if he didn’t have access to the best nutrition coaches in the country. Despite her best efforts, Jack had weaselled his way under her skin in the way only a brother could.

Nico’s charm was entirely different.

Nico’s charm came in the form of convenience at first - in the oh I live that way, I can drive you and I have some time, I can do some media stuff for you type of way. Convenience blended into companionship - I haven’t eaten either, we should go for lunch together and I’ve been wanting to watch that movie, do you want to watch it with me?

It turned into grabbing food together, even on days neither of them were working - breakfast, brunch, lunch, dinner, even coffee or sometimes drinks if they could meet up with the rest of the team. It turned into him spending time at her place, whether it was helping her paint her apartment, putting up her new wardrobes, or just binging whatever crazy long series Poppy had decided to start over from the beginning - she provided him with a sense of familiarity and calm he couldn’t really find in anyone else he had met in his time in the states. She became his person, his home away from home, away from home.

And he became hers.

There wasn’t as much she had to escape; her job not as strenuous, the expectations of her not as high, but when things built up for her - when her mother became overbearing, or her latest endeavour into a relationship crashed and burned - Nico was there. He’d make sure she had a distraction, made sure she was looking after herself, and, in turn, would look after her as well. He made sure she got home safe on nights out, or when they returned from a roadie and landed late - he would always make sure to see her off into the comfort of her own home before he went back to his own.

And that first time she’d fallen asleep beside him, he’d done the same.

He’d wrapped an arm around her to make her as comfortable as possible for as long as he could, and when the movie had finished - when her face was burrowed into the side of his chest, soft snores falling from between her lips - he gently drew her back to consciousness with his hand stroking at her cheek.

She’d been a little startled, hand shooting up to wipe at her chin and thankful she hadn’t been drooling on him - although with the easy smile he was giving her, she had thought he of all people wouldn’t have minded.

“Movie’s done, do you need a ride home?” His voice had been low and soft as not to worsen her apparent disorientation, and his hand was still lingering by the side of her face.

She had nodded, blinking away her sleepiness, and working her way up from the couch and onto her feet, stretching out her muscles as Nico did the same.

The two of them bid their goodbyes to the rest of the guys, made their way together to Nico’s car, and he had driven her back to her apartment, chatting on the drive about work and training.

Poppy had been cramming to prepare for her interview for the Foundation at the time - had been getting herself seriously worked up, staying up late, getting up early, barely allowing herself any time for anything fun - and Nico had seen right through her.

He’d stopped her before she got out of the car, had held her hand, rubbing at her knuckles with his thumb, and had told her that she should get some proper rest, and that she was going to absolutely rock their world in her interview in a few days time. And, knowing she was going to ignore any instruction he gave to make herself some decent dinner and go to bed early, had ordered her favourite Japanese takeout to be delivered a good half an hour after she got inside, with a text that followed telling her to sleep straight after she had finished.

She’d never expected to drift asleep with him on Jack’s couch - had never expected to open her eyes to the sight of his looking so warmly back at her.

And she hadn’t expected the same thing this morning, because, as her eyes drifted open to the intrusive light peaking through the cracks in her curtains, it wasn’t the first time she had woken up.

The first time had been to subdued movements, a slight groan of her bed frame, and the soft pattering of footsteps leading away. It had been to a hushed voice, the creak of her bathroom door, the flush of a toilet and the uttering of a name she had hoped she would never have to worry about again.

Talia.

The rest of his words had been uttered in his own language, but that she could understand.

She had acted purely on fight or flight instinct, laying back and pretending she was asleep - although as soon as she did, she regretted it, her mind racing at the million and one other possibilities she could have gone with. Sitting up, waiting for him to come out and asking him what was going on being the most rational.

But when had she ever gone with the most rational thought?

She tried not to react as she felt his presence, felt the soft press of his lips to her skin, or the placement of her bunny in her arms. Tried not to follow him as soon as he departed her bedroom, beg him to come back and whatever was going on could wait until the proper turn of the morning. Tried not to get up and go after him when the click of the lock to her main door echoed throughout the empty apartment.

And she tried not to cry as she laid in bed, overthinking herself back to sleep, thoughts racing to the point of exhaustion, and hoping when she woke up again it had just been a god-awful dream.

But it hadn’t.

The spot beside her in bed is empty, not even a crease in the pillow to prove he was ever there - only the t-shirt of his she still adorned, the one that when she takes a deep inhale, still smells like him, and the distinct aching between her thighs.

She finds more evidence of their night together in the bathroom, where she undresses herself with sore muscles and glances in the mirror to see the spattering of purple marks forming on her chest and neck. Her fingers trace over them lightly, her fleeting touch bringing vivid images forth of his lips pressing to her skin, practically able to feel the pressure of her flesh being nipped and bitten again.

He had been so attentive to her - so in tune with what she needed and wanted, and so ready to give her whatever that may be. He’d been gentle at some points, and purposeful at others, and every little thing he did, he did it with sweet disposition.

The kind of man who treats a girl like that doesn’t just leave her in the dead of night with no good reason, right?

Her mind races despite her body going into auto-pilot throughout her morning routine. Her shower is over in the flash of an eye, she strips her bed, starts her laundry, makes herself some tea and gets herself dressed - all the while weighing out all the possibilities of what could have taken him away from her, and what she would be able to understand.

That quickly turns to her imagining the worst, and a tight, constricting feeling starts to consume her chest.

There isn’t a single part of her apartment she can get away from the thoughts buzzing around her brain - her kitchen marred with the memory of what had happened on the counter, her couch, her bedroom, her bathroom - all carrying distinct memories of Nico that she needs to bench until she knows the truth.

She mistakenly thinks her escape might lie in her phone. There might be a text there waiting, explaining everything and relieving all the anxiety that has welled up in her very core.

Nia’s warnings from the night before don’t ring quick enough in her mind as the screen comes to life, the immediate barrage of notifications flooding in.

2 missed calls from Mom

Mom: Just calling to remind you of proper table etiquette in case it has slipped your mind, I won’t have you embarrass me in front of a Lyon.

Mom: Cutlery going from the outside in, hold your wine glass by the stem and dab with your napkin, don’t swipe!

Mom: Also let the man tuck your chair in and pay the bill, this 21st century woman nonsense is very unbecoming!

Mom: And I don’t want to have to bring this up but for the love of God, Poppy, have some class. I don’t want to hear mutterings of your promiscuity at the next luncheon.

Whoever taught her mom to text deserves a prison sentence, she thinks.

Tucker Lyon standing a girl up and ghosting her attempts to contact him is what’s unbecoming, not her trying to pay her half of the meal.

She can picture her mother as she reads the texts, sipping on her Manhattan on the couch in the great room, her dad already having retreated to bed at that time, and her having nothing better to do than sit and stew on her daughter’s sex life.

If she knew what was really going down last night, her mom would probably have a conniption.

Knowing she’ll no doubt be getting a call later that evening, Poppy swipes away at her text thread with her mom, immediately checking the notifications she hasn’t long received from her best friend.

Nia: hey if you happen to release yourself from Nico’s wandering hands at all today me and Kelsey are grabbing breakfast by my work!!

Nia: if you need refuelling we’ll be at Marco’s at 9 😘

Perfect. Therein lies her escape. Breakfast with her best friends, where they can hopefully talk her down from the ledge she’s precariously placed herself on.

A catch up with her girls, and then she can distract herself with work.

Poppy: I’ll be there!!

“Hasn’t he text you or anything?” Nia asks, covering her mouth as she chews on her breakfast bagel, the three girls sat around a table inside their favourite cafe close to Nia’s office.

When Poppy and Nia had first moved in together, they rented an apartment in Hoboken, not too far, and their tradition of grabbing breakfast at Marco’s carried on despite Poppy living further down the river and working even further away in Newark.

Kelsey had lived in Manhattan at that time, but she stayed over so often with the other girls that she practically spent majority of her week there, and so Poppy and Nia’s routine became hers.

Poppy had given the two of them a brief rundown of her night with Nico, a safe-for-work version of events, all leading up to the mysterious early morning phone call and swift departure.

“Nope,” she sighs, swiping to refresh her messages as if she hasn’t put her phone on loud just to be alerted when he does reach out.

“Have you text him?”

“Nope,” she repeats, putting the phone down and leaning back in her chair, running a hand through her already messed up hair. She’s going to have to throw it up if she wants to look any sort of presentable when she gets to work later.

“Is he usually this pathetic at communicating?” Kelsey asks, manicured nails swiping at a bunch of Sweet’n Lows like she’s trying to play Tetris with the packets.

Kelsey hasn’t met Nico before, not that Poppy can remember.

Despite considering her one of her closest friends, their personal lives have never quite intertwined like that - not like hers and Nia’s.

In college, things were different. They were coming into their own together, figuring out just what they wanted their personal lives to be, and so Kelsey, Poppy and Nia would all share pretty much everything, just to have someone there to validate their feelings.

But that changed once they graduated.

Kelsey moved in with her boyfriend, Liam - who just so happens to be Poppy’s idea of hell-spawn.

The kind of guy her mother would probably love.

Liam worked on Wall Street, couldn’t go five minutes of conversation without talking about stocks or investment funds. His native language was risky money moves and belittling remarks, and he treated Kelsey like an accessory to parade around in public and discard in private.

Poppy had tried a few times to open Kelsey’s eyes to the way that it was, but it soon became apparent that she had to let her friend make her own mistakes, and some parts of their lives didn’t have to cross over.

They broke up around Thanksgiving, and Poppy had tried with all her might not to show her relief, but it has made her somewhat resentful when it comes to other relationships - like no one can be happy if she isn’t.

She knows it isn’t malicious, but she restrains from letting Kelsey all the way in, all the same.

“Not really,” Poppy lies, not wanting to clue her in on the Big Freezewhere he didn’t speak to her for months on end. It doesn’t entirely help her case. “I just don’t get why he’d sneak out to see her of all people, he told me they weren’t ever that solid, that he wasn’t happy with her.”

“Ooh, what if she’s pregnant?” Kelsey is entirely oblivious to the horrific realm of possibility she has just opened Poppy up to, evidenced by the casual chuckle and subsequent sip of her coffee. “Maybe she’s back to baby-trap him.”

Poppy thinks she would have to flee the state.

Nico is a family guy - if Talia is pregnant, he’d force himself to love her again, if he ever even stopped, for the sake of their gorgeous brown eyed, floppy haired baby, and push Poppy to the side just like he had before. And she’ll have to watch him from the sidelines, yearning for what she had just managed to touch the tips of her fingers to before it was violently yanked from her grasp.

Maybe she’d have to flee the country even - move somewhere remote where she doesn’t even have the chance of being reminded of hockey, let alone of him.

Somewhere with no coffee shops that she’d enter, and the smell of fresh pastries would remind her of all the breakfasts they had together. No railways, where she’d be reminded of his love for model trains every time she came across the tracks. No weird club music that he loves so much, or dorky wizard franchises he chastises her for never having seen.

Maybe Antarctica. They only have penguins there. No real civilisation that she knows of. No brown haired, dark eyed Swiss Gods with deep, honeyed voices that make her knees weak and dimpled smiles that do even worse.

She wouldn’t be able to cope with losing him like that, living her life in an endless mental cycle of what ifs and maybes.

“Kelsey, I beg of you to read the room,” Nia chastises, swatting the girl on her arm before taking Poppy’s hand in her own. “Don’t listen to her, she just wants us all to be single at the same time.”

“Sue me for wanting to have fun! It would be just like college, you and me full-body plunging into the dating pool. Imagine the chaos, Pop, you don’t wanna be tied down to a guy hung up on his ex right now.”

“Dating pool?” Nia scoffs, turning to glare at her, “You’re hardly dry from your last relationship.”

“I’d rather be a grape than a raisin, Ni.” Kelsey chides back, and Poppy can’t help the twitch of her lips at the horrific comparison.

“You’re really gonna listen to a girl who says that?” Nia asks, unable to mask the glint of humour in her eyes, and Kelsey bites back a smile, too.

Despite the ache in her chest at the thought of any of it - of Nico leaving her this morning, filling her up with empty words and false promises, potentially knocking up an ex girlfriend he is still secretly hung up on even though he told her otherwise - she manages to crack a full smile.

“You are terrible at analogies, Kels,” Poppy tries to hide the grin behind her cup, sipping at her tea and letting the warmth of it soothe the pain in her throat.

“I’m trying to encourage you to be a strong, independent woman here!”

“She is a strong, independent woman,” Nia defends, “She also happens to be a chronic over-thinker with a deep seated fear of confrontation.”

“I don’t fear confrontation.”

“Then why are we here chit-chatting about hypothetical scenarios when you could just text him and ask what’s up?”

“Maybe ‘cause that’s scary?” Poppy scoffs, only half joking. “What am I supposed to say, hey I just so happened to eavesdrop on your private conversation before you fled my apartment this morning, and despite me not understanding most of it, I definitely heard you mention someone, so could you just let me know if your gorgeous model ex girlfriend is pregnant with your perfect specimen baby?”

“Sounds like you’ve got it all figured out, you don’t even need us.”

Poppy rolls her eyes.

She could text him. Could be casual about it, a good morning or even an are you okay? Those don’t warrant the alarm bells she’s afraid of raising - the ones that blare out with the siren sound of run, this girl is unhealthily attached to you already!

But she doesn’t want to be the pathetic girl chasing after the guy sending her clear messages that he doesn’t want her.

It’s easier said than done not to overthink the whole thing - not to second guess everything he had said, or everything she had done last night.

She feels like she had rushed things. It was so impulsive, so charged, and after spending the majority of her week away from him, she just hadn’t been able to help herself. And that makes her feel like a hypocrite. She had told him that night he had first kissed her that things between them had gotten intense. It had been the whole reason for spending a few days outside of each other’s company, and in the first possible instance, she had thrown herself at him.

It was desperate.

And maybe that scared him.

It sure as hell scares her.

“I don’t know what to do,” She groans, throwing her head into her hands and scrunching her eyes shut to try and drown out the endless doubt.

She feels two hands rub at either sides of her back, “Listen, Pop,” Nia is the first to attempt to console her, as always, and Poppy holds her breath for the harsh reality check she’s about to throw her way. “You know I am the one person who would usually be trying to convince you to cut your losses and run when it comes to guys who are no good, but this is Nico. I’ve watched the two of you ignore your feelings for far too long to let you get in your own way, now.

“And you’re forgetting I saw him last night, before you got there, there isn’t a chance in Hell he would have left you like that without a good reason. I don’t for a second think he’s still hung up on her.” Nia casts a side eye to Kelsey.

The only problem is that Poppy isn’t sure there’s a reason good enough. Not when it comes to Talia. Not when the memory of those months of radio silence is still so fresh for her.

“I have to go to work in a building where his face is plastered everywhere, Ni, I can hardly forget his entire existence until he deems me worthy of an explanation. Who leaves after a night like that without even a note or a text?”

“An idiot,” Kelsey mutters around her drink, rolling her eyes when Nia sends her another death-glare.

“I’m not asking you to forget, I’m telling you to wait.” Nia frowns, but her tone remains consoling and warm. “You need to stop letting what this thinks,” she flicks at Poppy’s forehead, “Get in the way of what this knows.” She points to her chest on the left side. “You know him. You know how much he likes you.”

She does.

She knows Nico, she trusts him.

She can only judge him based on his actions so far - the ones that tell her that he cares. He leads with his heart, it’s his most attractive attribute. He’s gentle and loving and she needs to focus on those things over anything else.

“Ugh, corny,” Kelsey drags, and despite her repeated efforts to discourage her, Poppy knows she isn’t being entirely serious. “If he has any non-stupid hot athlete friends though, I’m first in line when the two of you kiss and make up for double dates.”

Guilt pricks slightly at Poppy’s chest - for making her recently single friend sit here and listen to her complain about something so monumentally small compared to the breakdown of the long-term relationship Kelsey had just endured. Even if it was perceivably toxic.

“You’d make such a good WAG, Kels.”

It’s a poor attempt to make up for it, but it seems to console her friend all the same, a giant grin breaking out and flashing her perfect pearly whites.

“I know.”

Poppy tries to distract herself with work. Tries to make her way through her inbox of seemingly never ending emails and her list of ever-growing tasks. She types up lengthy responses, puts together a presentation, makes a bunch of phone calls she’s been putting off for God knows how long, sorts all her invoices out - she even sends a fax. In the year 2024. It’s her most productive work day she thinks she’s ever had.

She zeroes in on the ground every time she moves through the building. Ignores the pictures that line the walls of the Rock, pushes down the memories of all the times she’s walked these very halls by Nico’s side, and she thinks she’s done just about enough to clear her mind for the time being.

She hasn’t thought up some heart wrenching scenario in at least an hour by the time she’s wrapping up for the day.

She’s making her way back to her office after dropping some files off for Elaine when she catches sight of a mop of curls over the top of the chair by her desk.

Luke is sat in her chair when she enters, swivelling around and staring at the ceiling.

“You’re gonna make yourself sick doing that, you know.”

“You’re such a mom,” he scoffs, standing up and clearly trying not to sway, “You ever tried having fun? I think I saw a glue stick on a table out there,” he points through the door into the wider office space, where there are a few, less private cubicles and a common area. “We should go sniff them, let loose a little.”

“Is that why you’re here on your day off? To huff glue?”

“Yeah, I don’t get to let loose enough. Being a rookie in the NHL is hard, Poppy,”

“Bummer for you.” She pouts, mockingly, swerving past him as he rounds her desk and sits on the other side, flicking at the bobblehead version of his older brother that stands by her computer. “If you’re chasing a high can you do it with one of the other departments, it’s not a good look for the Youth Foundation.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t.”

When Luke had first joined the Devils, she hadn’t expected that she would warm to him the way she has - but, surprisingly enough, considering the fact they’re brothers, their relationship recently has started to mirror her and Jack’s.

Luke is funny. He’s sarcastic and a little silly, and it can be nice to have him around when work gets a little stressful. He doesn’t let the pressures of his own career outweigh those of hers, and, despite the gap in age, she actually enjoys his company.

But he never seeks her out like this.

Their interactions have always started through other people. Group conversations that dwindle to just the two of them, or he usually accompanies Jack to bug her and carries on when Jack’s ever-so-busy schedule takes him elsewhere.

She can’t think of another time he’s just shown up in her office alone.

Especially on his incredibly rare day off.

“Why are you actually here?” She asks, casting a suspicious but half-playful glare his way as she starts to pack up her things.

“Came to see if you wanted to join us for dinner.”

“Aw Lukey,” she reaches over her desk to pinch his cheek, “I’m flattered and all but I’m a little too old for you.”

“Ha ha,” he swats her hand away, “Us. Me and Jack. Maybe a couple of the others if they’re free but you can pick where we go if you make a decision quickly, we were thinking a steakhouse.”

She narrows her eyes at him, expecting him to crack a joke about her being old, but he just looks back at her awaiting a response. “Why?” She drags out the question, her movements stopping completely.

“Maybe ‘cause humans need sustenance to live? What do you mean, why?”

“Why would you want me to tag along on your bro date?”

“Don’t call it a bro date,” Luke cringes, “Just remembered you were working today and we were in the area, don’t know why you’re being weird about it.”

“You’re being weird. You guys never let me choose where we eat. Don’t you remember that time we grabbed dinner when you guys drove me home and Jack told me to stop being a pussy about my seafood allergy ‘cause he wanted sushi.”

“Don’t blame me for the crimes of my brother, Poppy, he was obviously joking.”

“I had to eat tofu, Luke, I don’t find that very funny.”

“Are you coming or not?”

“That depends, how do you have your steak?”

“Well done.”

“Oh! Then absolutely not.”

“Remind me never to try to be nice to you again.” He scowls as they make their way out of her office, and she locks up behind the two of them.

“Gladly, it’s creeping me out.” She grabs at his elbow before he can carry on, stopping him in the otherwise empty common area where she knows no one is around to listen in. “Is something going on, seriously?”

Luke rolls his eyes, but she knows him well enough that it’s only done in an attempt to avert from her gaze.

Bingo. He’s hiding something.

“I just thought you might want some company.” He shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets and twisting his lips to keep from saying much more.

“Why?”

If Poppy wanted to spend her life getting a straight answer out of people for a living, she’d have become an interrogator. What is it with these guys and their inability to answer a simple question?

“Jack said you left the party last night with Nico.”

Poppy’s eyebrows scrunch so close together that she can feel a deep crease form between them. What on earth does that have to do with asking her to dinner? Or being overly nice to her?

Unless-

“You’ve seen him?”

“This morning.”

“Oh.”

All of her efforts from throughout the day seem to have been for nothing - an immediate rush of insecurities flooding her mind.

Where did he see him? What did he say? Was he okay? Was Talia there?

She feels like she can gauge an answer from the way Luke looks. Sheepish, almost, like he doesn’t want to say something he knows will hurt her feelings.

She had to have been with him. He wouldn’t just show up to her office like this if it wasn’t something that would seriously hurt.

She wishes she wasn’t the kind of person who did this - who filled in the gaps of conversations and always came out with the worst possible outcomes - but she can’t help it. She’s been doing it all her life, and there’s rarely ever an instance where her instincts have led her astray.

She knows it’s some weird part of her mind protecting her, but she needs to do something here. Nia’s words from earlier ring like a warning. Don’t let what her brain thinks get in the way of what her heart knows.

Her heart knows Nico wanted her. Knows Nico liked her. Knows Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

She needs to figure things out for herself and stop running, stop letting her mind fill in the gaps of a situation it can’t even comprehend to begin with.

She reaches her arms around Luke’s shoulders, stretching up on her tip toes to pull him into a hug before rubbing her knuckles into his curls, affectionately.

Luke Hughes is sarcastic and silly, and he cares enough about her to not want her to be alone if she’s going through something.

“Thank you for the offer, Luke, but I’ll be alright.”

“Are you sure?”

She nods, a tender smile tugging at the corners of her stubborn lips. It takes over her face, eyes glinting fondly and cheeks warming.

“Yeah, you can walk me to my car if you’re that worried about me though.” She loops her arm through his elbow as they make their way to the parking lot, and when they get there, he makes sure she’s in her car and has set off before him and Jack leave.

As if her day can’t get any worse, the elevator in her building is cordoned off with tape and a sign when she gets home, and she has never regretted moving up a floor as much as she does when she’s trudging up 6 flights of stairs.

She’s exhausted. Emotionally and physically, and she just wants to throw herself into bed and pretend the last 24 hours were a terrible dream.

Only, as she rounds the final corner to get to her door, any hopes of that go straight down the pan when her eyes land on Nico, standing in front of her door with his hands buried in his jacket pocket.

He looks tired too - hair messed where he’s no doubt been taking his cap on and off for however long he’s been stood here, running a hand through the tresses until they’re all askew.

His shoulders are slumped, and he doesn’t even greet her with that pretty smile he usually gives her.

His lips do curve up a touch - limp and half-hearted, not even enough for a dimple to form - but it doesn’t provide the comfort she had thought it would.

She feels anxious. A culmination of the day’s emotions washing over in one go. Sad, regretful, nervous, disappointed - all things she shouldn’t be used to feeling when it comes to Nico, but are all too familiar when she takes the last few months into account.

“Hi.” She gives a weak smile of her own.

“Can we talk?”

She wishes he’d have just said hi, back. That might have relieved the tightness in her chest just a little.

Nothing good ever comes of can we talk?

He steps aside as she approaches, maintaining a safe distance as she opens the door and enters her apartment.

The Nico from yesterday might have brushed past her, the graze of an arm or a lingering hand, but this Nico doesn’t. He barely even meets her eye.

He closes the door behind himself, watching as she discards her bag and keys to the console table on the side, and while she’s turned away from him, she tries to let whatever emotions need to come out cross her features where he can’t see them.

She needs to be cool about this, she thinks.

If she doesn’t get her back up, doesn’t get agitated, she won’t scare him off.

“Are you okay?” She asks once she’s turned to face him, not liking how he stands unmoving by the door. He hasn’t made any effort to settle in - his jacket still on and his hands still hidden in the pockets.

“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?”

She realises now that she can get a good look at him that the expression he wears is one of shame. Guilt. Apprehension. She needs to be careful and toe the line before he gets consumed by it, she realises.

She steps toward him a little, and he doesn’t back up - not immediately, not obviously - but he hardly welcomes her approach, either.

She doesn’t like feeling this way when it comes to talking to him - feeling uneasy and unsure, but there’s a part of her that’s tired of having to prompt him for answers.

He had been the one to leave this morning. Why can’t he just come out and tell her why?

“I’m alright,” she shrugs, not wanting to scare him off with the truth. “Super tired, though, can we sit?”

She wonders if he thinks about the same things she does as they make their way to the couch. Wonders if he can feel the scratch of her nails on his torso, or the brush of her lips against his, as they sit in the spot where not even 24 hours ago, their bodies had been intertwined.

He doesn’t sit right beside her as he normally would, and she finds herself missing the way his thigh usually brushes against her own.

She doesn’t know where to start or what to ask, and so she basks in the silence for a little - finding comfort in the fact that, despite the mess they’re currently in, they aren’t quite at the end yet.

But a part of her feels it coming.

She’d known it this morning if she lets herself listen to the rational voice in her head. As soon as she’d heard him say her name, as soon as he’d left, a part of her knew that was it, and maybe if she’d let herself believe it at the time - hadn’t talked herself down and convinced herself she was being irrational - she could have protected herself from all the ways this is going to hurt.

“I’m sorry.” He says, and when she looks up, he’s looking down where his large hands are now clasped together in his lap.

“For what?” She manages to choke out.

“Last night, I,” she digs her nails into the palms of her own hands to stop herself filling in the gaps as he figures out what he wants to say, but it’s no use.

He’s sorry for last night.

Last night, he made a mistake.

Last night, he was drunk, he was confused, he was just looking for something or someone to keep him occupied.

“I care about you so much, Poppy.”

That sentence shouldn’t be the one that fills her with dread, but it is.

“You’re my best friend, and I love you,” he does look up as he says this, eye meeting hers in an attempt to convey his honesty, but she sees more of the truth in his glassy gaze than she hears in his words. “This morning, I panicked, and I just needed some time to figure out what I want.”

No, no, no.

She’d rather he tell her what actually happened than do this. Than pretend he left because he doesn’t want her.

“I love you-,”

“You said that, already.” She can’t help the bite in her tone as she prepares herself for the hit. The I love you, but.

“You’re so important to me. Being your friend, it’s like it’s what keeps me sane lately.”

She chews at the inside of her cheek as she feels the tears start to well at her lash line.

“Poppy, I don’t want to mess up what we have,” he shakes his head as his gaze drops, dark eyes darting to focus anywhere but on her own, pleading and watery as she watches him slip away. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t think this is hurting me?” She feels weak as her voice breaks, “You don’t think this is already messy?”

She reaches out to take his hands in hers, digging in to unclasp them, to try thread her fingers through, but he doesn’t make it easy.

“Nico, I love you, too, you know I do, we can figure it out, you don’t have to run away from me.”

It’s a desperate attempt and she knows it is, but she needs to know she tried. When she’s sobbing into her pillow and crying herself to sleep tonight, she needs to know she didn’t just let him go without a fight.

“I can’t give you what you want, I can’t be in a relationship, I’m no good at it.”

Regardless of what she had told herself earlier, about taking what he says at face value, and trying not to fill in the gaps like she does so often with everyone else, she can’t help herself. When he says, I can’t be in a relationship, he means with her. He can’t be with Poppy. He would be no good with Poppy.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I told you-,”

“No, you said before that you’ve wanted this for as long as you’ve known me, you don’t just wake up and change your mind, not after-,” Poppy starts to feel panic building within her like a flipped over sand timer. Rising and rising until she starts to feel nauseous, getting harder with each second not to jump to conclusions.

The voice inside her that tells her he got what he wanted and decided it wasn’t for him sounds caustic and bitter, and if she hadn’t wound herself up so much about this whole situation over the course of the day - the past week, even, or the months before - she might have been able to fight off the way it so easily convinces her.

“I have to put the team first, it doesn’t matter what I want, I have to focus on them, on hockey.”

She’s too caught up in her own emotions to notice how weak he sounds - glassy eyes unable to catch the glint in his. All she can hear, all she can see, is the minute hints of a cover-up - that she isn’t getting the whole story, that he’s lying to her, and that the excuse he’s giving is cowardly.

He still hasn’t mentioned the call, hasn’t mentioned Talia, hasn’t explained why he left her, why he didn’t say anything, why he didn’t come back.

“And you didn’t know that before?” She scoffs, pushing herself up off the couch and stepping away from him, “I can’t believe you would do this to me.” She wipes the tears from her cheeks as soon as they fall, but she can’t rid her skin of the feeling that they were there, her flesh damp and sore.

“I know we took things a little too far last night, but that doesn’t mean-,” She almost thinks he notices how bad that hurts her, referencing the night they shared as a mistake - an instance where they got carried away, and not where they followed through on years worth of built up tension and adoration for one another. She doesn’t even have to fill in the gaps, this time. Took things a little too far is clear enough. “We can still be friends. I want to be friends.”

“Friends?” Poppy jeers in disbelief, turning completely away from him now and missing the tears that drop from his own cheeks - missing the way his chest cracks and stretches open in a last ditch demonstration of his vulnerability, his desperation not to lose her completely. “You should go.”

“Poppy,”

“I can’t,” she tries so hard not to cry, knowing she won’t be able to stop, but the words come out in a choked sob, and her voice carries on in the whiney way she always hates. “You told me you wanted more, you said I was yours, and I’m supposed to just act like it never happened? Just accept you didn’t actually mean the things you said?”

“I meant them,” he says, defiantly, so sure of himself that it makes her head spin. “I wouldn’t-,”

“No, you didn’t. You’re a liar. You were either lying then, or you’re lying now. I don’t know which is worse. I can’t be your friend. I can’t pretend like you can that I don’t feel the way I feel.”

“Please, Mohn,” His fingertips just manage to reach out to land on her forearm before she shucks him off, wincing as if his touch has pained her.

“Don’t.” She takes an immediate step back, arms crossing over herself as a defence mechanism, body language screaming at him to go away, and she watches his pleading eyes drop to her arms just as she feels the cold of the metal there - so in tune with her every thought despite his denial of their true connection. Her arms move before her mind can make the decision, before it can remember what even sits on her skin, and her shaking fingers fumble to unclasp the jewellery adorned on her wrist. “You should take this back.”

Nico shakes his head, stepping back and away from the outstretched hand that holds her gemstone bracelet like it’s an actual danger to him. “No, that’s yours, Poppy.”

“I don’t want it.” She knows she’s the one that’s lying now. She wants the bracelet. She wants him. She doesn’t want him to leave. She wants to be his friend over being nothing.

But she doesn’t want to hurt.

Looking at him hurts.

Remembering last night, remembering their kiss, the things he has said, the things he has done, it all hurts, and she can’t keep hold of a constant reminder of the pain, can’t wear it on her person at all hours of the day just to know deep down that the man who gave it to her will never want her the same way.

“I want you to leave.”

“Please,” he begs again, head tilting as devastation floods his features, brows pushing together, tears welling at the corners of his eyes, “We need to talk about this-,”

“No, you were right, we went too far, it was a mistake.” Her voice breaks as she says things she knows she doesn’t mean, but he’s already put it out there, so she doesn’t see the harm in echoing his own opinions. “There’s nothing more to talk about.”

She can’t look at him anymore, and so she drops her gaze to his hands, stepping and reaching forward and forcing him to take the bracelet from her before she rounds the couch and heads to the door.

If he isn’t going to give her the whole truth, she isn’t going to entertain part of the story, and she needs him gone so she can give in to the way her body wants to fold in on itself.

It takes him a minute to gather himself, but she refuses to look his way, waiting by the open door to her apartment and staring at the floor in front of her until his shoes appear.

“I do love you, Poppy. I’m leaving because I don’t want to upset you any more than I already have, and I’ll give you space if that’s what you need, but I’ll be here when you want to talk about this. I mean it when I say I can’t lose you.”

She doesn’t say anything. She can’t say anything.

There’s a stabbing pain that’s building and building in the centre of her chest, and she doesn’t even think she can breathe in his presence.

He clasps a hand around her upper arm, and leans into her, his lips pressing a firm kiss into the crown of her head, and he lingers there for a moment before he retreats.

She manages to push the door closed behind him, the click of the lock louder than ever, and waits a good few minutes in silence before her body is wracked with a silent sob.

The one time she had tried to be brave and fight her own intuition, and this is where it gets her.

So much for Nico wouldn’t do anything to hurt her.

> Next Chapter

Taglist: @alwaysclassyeagle @bunbunbl0gs @idgaf-if-youre-here @youflowerr-youfeast @thearchersstuff @bellsdi0r @wonderheartz @jjgsunflower @butterflies35 @kenziepickle @josierosie @laheyxlover @mrsmattytkachuk (sorry if your tag hasn't worked btw)

#nico hischier #nico hischier x oc #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fanfiction #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #*oys #*writing #word of warning to anyone writing anything ever don't leave yourself stupid instructions #thinking inspiration will strike when needed #surprise surprise motherfucker it won't!!!!!!#anyway that last convo very our field of dreams engulfed in fire your arson's match your somber eyes and I'll still see it until I die #you're the loss of my life coded

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sunofpandora · 6 months

Text

Virago: Chapter 3

Neteyam x fem na’vi!omaticaya!reader

Characters:

Ka’lik- (like you would pronounce “Malik”) Y/n’s father, deceased, a warrior and hunter of the

omaticaya clan. A teacher to young warriors undergoing iknimaya.

Zensira-deceased, Y/n’s mother, spider's adoptive mother, a strong hunter and the best singer in the omaticaya clan, and a teacher to young hunters.

Kailo-(Y/n’s ikran. Your ikran is a male)

Popiti-(tuk’s best friend according to the visual dictionary)

(Also idk how many of you know this but Jake’s ikran’s name is canonically ‘Bob’.)

(WARNINGS!

Sharing a sleeping hammock with the opposite gender (non-romantically)-

Neytiri hating on spider/ mentions of insecurities, heartbreak, war,/ fluff/ angst/ mentions of hunting, killing animals, mentions of therapy, military, ptsd, romance, pining, use of military terms/codewords/ fluff ending!

Let me know if I missed anything.

Chapter desc:

Kiri convinced y/n to unload some of her lingering feelings for Neteyam. Y/n reveals that the incident all those years ago that took her parents scarred her deeper than she could have ever anticipated. Is this a battle the mighty archer can’t win? Neteyam has a confrontation with a pathetically simpering Kyuna.

Authors note:

Here we go! Chapter 3!! It feels insane to be posting the actual third chapter of this. But holy moly, building up romance is much harder than I thought. This chapter is a long one so grab your favorite snack, find a comfy spot and buckle up.

I have a small request for my lovely virago readers, please comment on your favorite line, moment, quote, or dynamic from this chapter. This is so I can know what kind of stuff you guys incline towards so I can throw more of it in as the story continues.

IMPORTANT:

hi guys. So I’ve decided to change spiders age from 20 to 19 for plot purposes. Jake and Neytiri are the same age. Tuk is still 7. Kiri is 19, neteyam is 19, Lo’ak and Y/n are 18.

This chapter is split into 3 parts due to tumblers dumbass word limit. This is part 1.

V I R A G O

Chapter 3;

Cupid Wears A Blindfold.

Y/n’s pov-

Word count: 28k (split)

Lo’ak snores. He snores a lot.

This was no epiphany to you, of course. Lo’ak had always been a snorer, much like Jake.

Ever since the sully’s welcomed you into their home when moving to high camp, sleeping arrangements were always abit of a puzzle.

Tuk often slept in all sorts of weird positions. Often rustling and twitching in her sleep. Some nights she nestles her way in between Jake and Neytiri, the poor couple waking up to an elbow jabbing into their skin.

Kiri was your second best option. She didn’t toss or turn, she didn’t kick or jab or roll. Your only deterrent? Kiri mumbled. Oftentimes talking in her sleep to some soft sung spirit she felt within her own solace, her own safety, her own world.

This never found itself to be a disturbance for you. You didn’t mind the mumbling. Kiri however, claimed ‘she loved you too much to keep you up at night’, and wouldn’t hear a word of it when you tried to convince her that it didn’t bother you.

But it wasn't completely in favor of your sleep schedule. Kiri liked her privacy. And you knew that. Better than most, actually. But that’s what was special about your bond with Kiri. You didn’t need words to understand her. And she loved you for it.

I don’t think I need to explain why sharing a hammock with Jake and Neytiri seemed out of the question.

And though most nights it seemed tempting, sleeping with Neteyam was a no-go.

And here you laid. Staring at the ceiling of the Sully family’s tented Marui home, while everyone slept, you damned yourself restless.

Lo’ak kept snoring in your ear, his breath hitting your neck.

His arm lazily thrown above both your heads, his leg sprawled across your shins. You huffed, attempting to turn the opposite way. The uneven weight caused the tent to dip unanticipatedly, causing you to gasp. Your hand reaches towards the wall to steady the motion, and to prevent you and lo’ak from falling.

You squeezed your eyes shut, taking a breath before shifting yourself evenly again, and Lo’ak continued to snore, his tail now poking your hip.

Your ears perked up at the sound of a soft rustling, and a gentle yawn.

“Y/n?”

You turn your head, seeing a sleepy Kiri blink at you slowly, her bright golden eyes adjusting to the light.

“What’re you doing up?”

She rested on her elbows, elevating herself a bit to see you more clearly.

You sighed, glancing back at Lo’ak.

“Oh. You know. Just doing a little late night praying. Praying that eywa will take me before his snoring does.”

Your blank tone made Kiri giggle, stifling her laughs with her palm.

“Oh trust me. I've shared a tent with him longer than you have.”

Silence draws between you both as your quiet chuckles slowly start to simmer away under the dark tent top.

Kiri sits up slightly, gesturing with one hand for you to come closer.

You shake your head, hesitantly treading her offer. You knew how kiri liked her distance.

“I don’t want to be a bother.”

“You? A bother? Y/n, you’re probably the person in this entire tent that bothers me the least.”

You crack a smile, huffing out a small sigh of defeat.

You slip out of your hammock, slithering your way over small objects that became obstacles on the floor with stealthy yet lethargic motions. of the family’s home before successfully snuggling under the blanket of kiri’s larger hammock. Now comfortable without the cramped positioning.

She chuckled, rubbing your back.

“Comfy?”

You nod, smiling at her.

“You're a lifesaver, Kiri. My hero.”

She ruffles your braids, winking.

“Nah. If anything, you are my hero.”

Kiri and you have always been close, ever since you were children. Your mother and Neytiri were practically attached at the hip, and since you, spider, and lo’ak were always a package deal, you and kiri had grown up playing together.

Kiri was softer spoken as a child, and you were loud and energetic. Your mother always said you were an ocean, and kiri was a lake. You, a soul syncing with the vigorous symphonies of azur-string reprised tidelines and honey-hidden siren songs. The ocean forgives, but it never forgets. Its strength is unmeasured. It waits for nothing.

Kiri was a lake. Lush green ripened grass sits along yellowed-tinted sun hazed stems of oddly-shaped wildflowers and imperfect patterns imprinted on petals. She was calm in the still moving water. You were the strength of the sea.

You always felt protective over Kiri.

A part of you couldn't help it. The day you and Kiri grew closer was the same day Jake had to meet with the Olo’eyktan of the Tawkami clan. The day the Chief’s children were teasing Kiri about her fingers. You and Kiri were about 8 at the time, and she really only saw you play around the village or carrying spider on your back as you trailed behind your mother and her daily chores. Or when your mom walked Lo’ak back to his family’s hut the morning after a sleepover with you and spider.

The day the Tawkami Chief’s children that accompanied him were picking and poking at Kiri’s fingers.

And where were you? Right there beside her. Threatening to feed the children to your mother’s ikran and telling them that your human brother would come and give them his demon blood “diseases” if they didn’t leave her alone.

They stopped picking on her, and she stuck by you from then on. Cause no one knew how to better handle bitchy 9 year olds than you did.

Kiri yawns, gently rolling on her side.

“Get some sleep, Y/n.”

You mumbled an ‘mhm’ before letting your eyes drift shut.

Its been about 15 minutes and sleep still evades you. The comforting vibrations of kiri’s warmth doesn’t seem to lull you like you assumed it would.

“Are you awake?”

Kiri whispered, and it startled you a bit. You assumed she was asleep.

You turned to face her and nodded. Her yellow eyes glowing evergreen tints in the darkness.

“Yes. But don’t let me keep you from sleeping, Kiri.”

She shrugs.

“I can’t sleep either.”

You both stay quiet for a moment, letting the silence settle.

“So, Makeyo spoke with you today?”

The same uneasy feeling returns once again, you blink at Kiri.

You shook your head, your voice quiet as if not to disturb the air around you two.

“We were just talking.”

“About?”

Her whisper courses against the flicker of change in the wind.

You stay quiet once again. Not because its awkward, or uncomfortable.

Sometimes, you felt like there was a shackle chained to your wrist.

The memory of your parents still haunts you.

It shaded you in its prison of night, torturing you to watch the sunlight, but never touch it.

You didn’t love anyone.

And yet, whenever someone offered you their hand, it felt like a trap.

A mockery of betrayal climbs your conscience. It's a hue of warm yellow, drenched in crimson and an agonizing black.

Jake told you that back on earth, he fought with other humans in a war that seemed like it would never end.

Sometimes people come out of bloody experiences constantly trying to wash their body because the smell of blood never leaves their nose.

Jake said it haunts you. Like a ghost. Some of the men he met would wake up screaming in the middle of the night. They wouldn’t laugh as much. Smile as much. What once was a comfort was now a cold, daunting piece of lost memories.

It's everywhere. And it hurts. What hurts most is that you can't protect yourself from it. Your arrows cannot pierce it. your hands cannot fight it away.

It’s real in some uncanny sense of a nauseating nostalgia. The type of memory that makes you thin your eyes because it's too bright.

An invisible devotion, it holds you above its disposal.

It keeps you away from falling in love. From holding someone's hand. From laughing at another’s jokes.

Sometimes you hate what you are. What you’re made out of. Because your soul constantly fights to build yourself out of ripped pieces of the past.

Because all you ever hear is whispers about where that happy little girl went. The girl who chased sun-dripped river banks with the symphony of children’s laughter.

This pain follows you.

When you wake from your nightmare’s it’ll sit in the corner. Watching you.

When someone flirts with you, touches your shoulder, brushes a strand of hair out of your face, it’ll be there.

What was the use of falling in love? As a child, you fantasized about having a love like your parents. So pure, so deep, so unexplainably perfect.

Only for them to die because of something you couldn't protect them from.

It’s not that you feared death. You feared the instantaneousness of it.

The unforeseen figment of a shape only for it to reveal itself to be a scythe.

They didn’t know it would happen, and neither did you.

And you weren’t fucking there. And now they are gone.

Never getting to watch you or spider grow to be full adults.

Leaving their children without so much as a goodbye.

Your only true goal was to die honorably on the battlefield. If you couldn’t find peace, maybe your ghost could.

Love was a weakness.

And when you fall in love, the shell of that pain will disguise itself under their soul.

You shrugged, your eyes averting away from Kiri. There's disconnected fatigue in your tone.

“He was nice.”

“Just nice?”

Kiri raises her eyebrow, scooting a bit closer to you.

You sighed, unsure of how to carry on this conversation. So you’re grateful when she does it for you.

“He’s a good guy. I've seen him help you teach the younger kids. They love him, always trying to climb on his back and asking him to carry them around.”

You nod.

“He’s a good teacher..”

you trail off, fidgeting with one of

Your bracelets. The one tuk made you, the one with mismatched bead sizes and colors. Juvenile plotted patterns in the small vibrant hues.

Kiri snickers.

“He might have to get in line with all your other eager suitors.”

you roll your eyes, poking her with your tail.

It wasn't unusual that Kiri teased you about getting attention.

Lo’ak’s friends sometimes whisper, quietly laughing and shoving each other as you walk by. It becomes hard not to notice as it becomes a frequent pattern.

Sometimes the guys in the hunting party Neteyam was often in, gently tapped each other on the shoulder, more subtly gesturing as you walked around camp or left for a ride, or even just helped with daily chores.

Their attempts usually deem themself futureless when Spider and Lo’ak glare at them, shoo them away the same way you would a pestering flock of birds.

Its a normality. Though spider was only a year older than you, he policed your love life just the same as any older sibling would. He didn't care that you were taller, stronger, bigger than him.

You scoffed.

“They’ll have to get through dumb and dumber first.”

Kiri huffed, annoyed with the two idiots in question.

“Don’t trust their judgment. They share one singular brain cell and it malfunctions half the time.”

The both of you laugh, trying to keep quiet. You bury your face in Kiris shoulder as the hammock shakes with your giggles.

You both sigh after a moment, still smiling.

“I can’t blame them. You’re perfect.”

She whispered.

There's a withering sense of somber behind her voice. It lacked bitterness, but it simmered on a ember, an ephemeral flicker of blue. The sounds of sloshed ash-blue sunsets and burnt-orange auras.

“I am not.”

You mumbled.

Kiri looked up at the top of the tented-hut. The small sparks of comforting vibrations from your bodies nuzzled under the woven blanket that allows only the softest of shivers to seize past the fabric.

“You remind me of my mother. The stories of her in her youth. The perfect woman. Strong, admired, sought out by many, envied by most..”

She trailed off.

If only kiri knew you didn’t feel like that at all.

“You’re my idea of perfection, Kiri.”

She scoffs and rolls her eyes.

Kiri was pretty. You had to remind her of that sometimes. The way her golden eyes shined under a sheet of jaded-glowing evergreen, that of a hued green in a canvassed jungle canopy. Her uneven, choppy, imperfectly, perfectly shaped bangs that fell over her forehead, gentle wisps of dark feathered thick strands.

Kiri’s hair was slightly lighter than most na’vi women. You loved that about her, the almost dark auburn shades of brown that hollowed in chalked streaks of a honeyed glow, proving herself her biological mother’s daughter.

But the one thing you adored most about Kiri?

Her love for Eywa.

You could only envy it.

After the death of your mother, your once undying devotion for the great mother started to rot. You felt like she had failed you. Taken away the most precious piece of your soul and damned her name for tearing you apart and leaving you to pick up the pieces.

You were angry those first few months, and you think differently now. But your breath still shallows at the thought.

Your smiles fade, and the air around you feels hollow for a moment.

“I wish i could see through your eyes, kiri.”

Kiri squeezed your hand, gently holding it to her chest.

“I know you’ve been hurt, Y/n. I know this pain is great..But the great mother has a plan for you. I believe it above all else.You are strong. Stronger than any spirit she has seen…You bring the wailing ash and fire of the demon ships to pity with just your arrowhead. We will heal together, y/n. I will teach you to find your faith again.”

You let your eyes flutter closed.

Your beautiful, sweet Kiri. This wasn’t romance. This was sisterly love in its purest form.

“..Do you ever think about him?”

The question stills you, you looked up at her and blink.

“Who?”

“My brother.”

The comforting warmth suddenly becomes a sweltering heave of heat. You swallow thickly, looking down.

“No.”

Kiri shakes her head.

“Please. Don’t lie to me, Y/n.”

There it is again, the hole in your heart.

“Yes. I think of him sometimes.”

Silence settles again.

“Is it wrong?”

You whisper.

Kiri shakes her head.

“No. its just that he doesn't deserve to live in your mind.”

Kiri loves her older brother. She truly does. But she was right beside you when he drifted away. Even ignoring him because she was angry with how he had treated you.

You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment, cupping her hand in yours.

“I hate it.”

“Hate what?”

“How i feel like a piece of me is missing.”

Kiri’s eyes soften.

“Oh y/n…”

“No.”

Your voice breaks only slightly.

“No. because im better now.

I hated him. I hated his hands. I hated his voice. I hated his back. I hated his arms. I hated his neck. I hated his nose. I hated his ears. I hated when he promised to protect me, I hated when he left me crying in the rain. I hated that I waited for him. I hated that he promised all the stars in the sky were mine. I hated him.

I don’t hate him anymore. I hate the delusions of himself he put inside my head.

I hate how he weakened me.”

Kiri gently brushed some of your braids behind your shoulder

“Heartbreak doesn’t make you weak. If anything, it shows we had something inside of us so beautiful and rare it was worth mourning.”

You blinked back the fresh sting in your eyes. Taking a shaky breath.

“Oh my dear.”

Kiri whispered, hugging you close.

“Get some rest. You don’t need to think about anything right now, I promise.”

You nodded.

“Yeah. yeah okay.”

“You know what? In the morning let’s go bother norm for a bit. Would that make you feel better?”

You chuckled, hugging her back before you both settled in respective places in her hammock.

“It always does,”

Sleep soon found you, taking you in its arms and soothing the sweet darkness.

Across the tent, Neteyam laid awake, his hands clutching a blanket of his own, his body still tensed after what he had just heard.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

The next day.

You liked hunting with Jake.

It was high on your list of some of the chores you enjoyed contributing with your new found life in high camp living with the sullies.

Spending time with jake was a bonus. Jake and your family went way back. Your mother was one of the only navi that welcomed him upon his unexpected arrival. She was the one who lended him an older loincloth for him to wear that first night he was captured and the omaticaya took away his RDA uniform, and while he had his first ever meal with the clan at high camp.

Your mother also played a huge role in his journey to become a man of the omaticaya people.

Teaching him things like weaving, beading, and some of the language along with Neytiri.

Your mother was the one who constantly pestered neytiri about her growing feelings for the dreamwalker, helping her unbraid her hair for the nights he spent with jake, letting her cry, laugh, scream, like any good sister would.

Your mother and Neytiri mourned sylwanin together. And your mother grew closer with Mo’at and eytukan as mentors as well, despite neytiri and your mother not being sisters by blood, they loved each other just the same.

Jake and you had a good relationship. Jake often helped train the younger warriors, neteyam, you and lo’ak included.

You were always the fastest, the strongest out of the group, since you were 15.

Jake remembers when you were small. Carrying spider around and chasing lo’ak, bringing gifts to baby tuk, playing in the flower patches with neteyam and making him wear the bracelets and crowns you would braid out the stemmed petals.

Jake was there with you when your parents died, and he ws there when you moved into highcamp with the sully family.

He was there when you had nightmares and woke up in the middle of the night screaming,

You remember those nights, when the images of your mothers body would rip you from your sleep and you’d almost shake poor lo’ak out of the shared hammock with your sobbing and pleading.

You remember jake rushing to you, gently holding you by your shoulders, gently utting your head to his chest.

‘Sweetheart hey- hey i’m here. Mawey, Mawey..easy- easy…there we go. Deep breaths..’

The hoarse tiredness in his voice as oddly comforting.

You remember shaking your head, settling yur breathing as the tears began to flow.

“I-i’m sorry..it was just another bad dream.”

“Hey. never apologize for having a nightmare. You’re okay. You’re safe here. Okay? C’mon. Let's take a walk-that’ll calm you down.”

You trusted jake. You always have. Even today, in the present. So of course you liked hunting with him.

But most of all? You loved flying.

Your ikran was your spirit brother, sometimes even following your commands without tsaheylu.

The bond you had was strong, stronger than most ikran’s are capable of.

And the best part? He had a temper just like you did. The first time you almost met death was your iknimiya.

Your ikran threw you off the cliff, and then flew down to attack you further.

Jake and Neytiri had to hold Neteyam back from swooping into save you.

But you did it. You completed your rite and claimed Kailo as your own.

And you soared with him now, above the clouds, barely containing the smile etched on your face as the wind whips through your braids.

You loved heights. You loved how infinitely endless the sky seemed, burning with blasts of azure or an early morning blaze of fire-hued sunrises, or the cold warmth of the rain that refused to fall within the stars.

Revered by the scattered songs of synodic vespers and requiems of rainstorms. The sky cannot be caged. It cannot be concealed or hidden, it is your sanctuary, enraptured by effortless divinity and strength.

Your ikran let out a shrill and you pet its neck.

“Easy, Kailo..”

You hummed, looking over to jake, who sat atop his own companion, Bob. His dreads caught in the wind behind him as he waved for your attention.

“y/n!”

The wind carried his volume.

“I think we should take a break. In an hour or two the yerik herds will come to the river bank. Let’s law low in the woods.”

“Yes sir.”

You gently kicked Kailos' side, tilting the reins to descend after Jake into the forest, weaving around trees and foliage.

You laugh as a gust of wind trails you and Kailo, almost throwing Jake off his line of flight. Kailo was one of the fastest ikran your clan had ever seen. At least, that’s what the elders of the clan had told you.

Lo’ak was often jealous of spider because spider always got free rides on Kailo. You land before Jake, hopping off Kailo’s back and petting his neck.

“Mawey, tsmukan”

(calm, brother.)

Jake landed after you, the sound of ikran wings announcing his arrival. He climbed down right after you, patting the neck of his own Ikran, bob.

Jake spotted some Yovo fruit trees up ahead, cutting you both down a few as you both sat down on some rocks for snack break.

Jake leaned back, handing you a half of his own fruit as you muttered a small thank you.

His eyes wandered, as he glanced up at the trees, as if his gaze had become conscious of every shape and sound that surrounded him.

“I remember this place.”

Jake uttered in a soft hum in the air, his line of sight tracing around the figment of nostalgic fixation in the air.

You raised an eyebrow, munching on your fruit.

“Here? At this spot?”

Jake nods, nudging your shoulder with his knuckles. Pointing to the source of the sound of trickling water.

“The pond. Back when I was training for iknimaya. Way before your time.”

He smirked, as if it was something to brag about.

You rolled your eyes,

“Oh goody. Another one of grandpa's war stories.”

Jake chucked a Yovo fruit at your head but you caught it effortlessly, not even glancing.

“I’m not that old.” he huffs, clearly impressed at your heightened reflexes.

You chuckled, flipping your knife in your hand to withdraw it from its place in the sheath on your hip to cut open the fruit.

“Can’t move it like you used to, huh pops?”

“You know, I could have you banished.”

“Than who would save Lo’ak next time he wants to play tag with a thanator?”

Jake ruffled your braids in response to your surmise, clearly holding back a smile.

“Where would I be without ya, kid?”

You shrugged, handing him another half of the freshly cut fruit.

“Probably in one of those healing homes back on earth.”

“You mean nursing homes.”

“Same thing.”

Jake shook his head, letting out a sigh, knowing it was probably spider who taught you such a term.

He glanced around again, brushing in the scenery.

A silence commences between you both, the soft shrills and distant flap of wings within the deep jungle is the only sound that demands attention.

Jake speaks softly, breaking the silence with fragile, yet scrambled steps.

“She never fails to take my breath away.”

You look up at him, watching as he leaned back against the tree, letting his eyes flutter closed.

“Who?” you whisper.

“Pandora.”

He hums in response.

you often forgot Jake wasn’t from this planet. That his true home could only be seen as the sirius among scattered stars. What was it like? Seeing your home from below? The only thing worth touching is the implacable incarnation of your memories.

To hide what was left of yourself, a mere ghost that lingered in the wrinkled corners of your mind.

“What was it like..your home?”

You whispered.

Jake’s ears perk up, his eyes landing on you as he sat up slightly.

He stayed quiet for a moment. Staring up at the sky, his finger gently tracing one of the stripes on his leg as his gaze remained absent.

“It’s like living on a skeleton.”

When he finally speaks, it's quite literally the last thing you would have guessed he would say.

You raised your eyebrow.

“A skeleton..?”

He nodded.

“Earth is just a shell. Like the carcass of an animal. A corpse, almost.”

“I don’t understand.”

He nodded, scooting a bit closer to you, starting to speak again.

“Earth used to be beautiful. So many colors you couldn’t count them all.”

You nodded, trying to imagine the formless figment of a world in which you’ve never seen.

He closed his eyes, as if trying to remember.

“There was light, lots of it. The air, the sun, the stars…”

You blinked at him.

“What happened to it?”

Jake paused, something creeping behind the orbs of his irises. It's a sickening dark shade of a color he can’t remember, but its bitter aching bones are enough to weaken the courage of a once strong rhythmic heartbeat.

It’s a shadow of an echo. Gutted inside something hollow and carved out of shivering pulses running to a soured stillness.

“Humans will take until nothing is left. They will gawk at the lights of a stupid billboard instead of noticing the dying grass under their feet.”

What's a billboard?

You thought, but decided not to ask.

You stayed quiet, staring at the ground.

“That’s why they want this planet. Because they killed their old one.”

Jake nods, sighing almost regretfully.

“They think the na’vi is their greatest enemy, when really, the ones who have killed the most humans are…well, more humans.”

You can’t imagine it. Taking a life without regarding the soul you have soiled. Does the red on their hands not sting their eyes?

And that's when you realized it.

Death hummed shallowly in its own pulsating methods. But even the devil has an advocate.

You killed. You have killed many. And it doesn’t seem to register until that very moment. You never thought to count the number of raids you had accompanied your clan on, Jake appointed you as his main archer when you were only 15.

When rage and grief overshadowed the shallowness of sunlight all you wanted to do was avenge.

An untamed anger was born in you when your parents died. And you swore every arrow you ever shot was in their names.

Zensira.

Kai’lik.

Zensira.

Kai’lik.

How would they look at you now?

Their little girl. The little girl they loved. Their beautiful, beautiful precious girl who loved to hear her mother sing. Their little girl who loved to carry your big brother spider around, (because your big brother wasn’t so big compared to you.)

Who loved to visit the pond and play with lo’ak. Who liked to make bracelets with kiri and get thrown into the lake by your dad, tossing around your small body when you were 7 as you squealed through the freshwater air.

A killer.

“Y/n? Y/n. Hey, hey, what’s wrong?”

Jake placed a hand on your shoulder, but his touch felt cold.

Jake’s voice sounded like your head was under water. Blurred, distant sounds.

Your breath becomes shallow, but you weren’t hyperventilating. You were just…still.

What if you had failed them? What if they were watching you right now?

Knowing you had killed. Not hunted.

Hunting was for survival. To feed your family, your friends, your clan.

This was killing. This wasn’t a need. It was a want. A want for vengeance.

Were you even a na’vi at all? Killing without respect for life even if they were a human.

Your mother forgave. Your father forgot.

And what were you? A disgrace of everything they stood for.

Your voice came out like a whisper. Every thought and feeling swirling around in your head. Despite your silent panic, the air felt eerily calm, and almost mocking ambience.

“Did I disappoint them?”

Jake stilled for a moment, rubbing your back.

“Who?”

“All of them.”

“All of them?”

You swallowed thickly.

“Y/n..you know you can talk to me, right?”

You nodded, staying quiet for a moment as you stared down at your shaking hands.

“Am I a bad person?”

Jake’s eyes widen a bit for a moment, his hand slowly withdrawals from its place on your shoulder.

“Why would you think that?”

“Because sometimes I like the way pain feels.”

Something clicked for Jake at that moment.

Where you saw your hand bloodied by a manic anger and bones with regretful splintered scars, Jake saw a shadow. A shadow of a distressed consciousness that he once acquainted himself with.

Jake was no stranger to products of war. Even when those products were souls losing their vibrancy. The colors fading into hardened flesh.

Jake had seen war turn people into hollow shells. Unheard prayer scattered and dissipated under a blood-stained sky.

Jake finally spoke, but his words, slow and somber, treaded a steeper meaning.

“You aren’t a bad person, Y/n. You’ve been hurt. Hurt by people even eywa cannot forgive.”

You shook your head, the threat canvassed along perpetual doubts.

“I don’t know why I’m like this.”

You admitted.

Jake places his hand back on your shoulder again.

“Sometimes people like us, soldiers, we start to like the pain because we think it’s the only thing we'll ever deserve. But we don’t like it at all. Not really.”

You can almost see it. The stars are falling again. The tapestry thread being pulled mercilessly. The colors are falling. The sun is turning cold.

You had to catch them. You had to chase the colors or else they would abandon you again.

Your reflection seems distorted. Liquid glass in the taunting shape of a little girl.

A little girl who knew no bloodshed. No war. No pain. No anger.

You would never be that little girl again. And its all your fault. You wanted to kill someone after your parents died. You wanted to kill every single human that worked for the RDA or even set foot on their base.

It’s sick.

It’s wrong.

It’s vile.

But its you. This wreckage of scars and bruises, tattered tapestries and broken bird songs, its all you.

That all too familiar sting hit the back of your throat, you could feel your gaze numbing.

“I’m beyond fixing.”

You whispered.

“No one is beyond fixing.”

He promised.

“Can you take some deep breaths with me? Just a few, Y/n.”

You followed his instructions, and the red started to simmer away. The air felt forgiving once again, and your throat started to feel normal once again.

You spoke again finally, after a few moments of silence.

“Maybe I should have my na’vi card revoked.”

You chuckled dryly.

Jake patted your back. “You and me both, kiddo.”

“What you feel is normal.”

He added.

“That anger. That vengeance.”

You glanced up at him. “Na’vi are supposed to solve conflict peacefully first. War is just a last resort.”

Jake scoffed.

“I think we’ve reached the last resort awhile ago, Sweetheart.”

You went to speak, but were quickly cut off.

“y/n you are not some kind of psychopath. You don’t kill for no reason. You kill to protect. You fight because something dear to you is threatened, that's what makes a warrior true to their heart, their clan.”

His words eased your anxiety a bit. But the shadow behind the sun still creeped disguised under the warmth of forgiveness.

“I’m not a bad person. I don’t know why I want them to feel pain.”

You whispered.

Sometimes you wondered if pretending to be made out of stone means you’d still break like glass.

War was the type of calm that tranquilized. Drugged you into delusions of comfort.

Somewhere inside you was that little girl. She hates you. She hates you with all her heart.

Somewhere inside you is that 15 year old that’s waiting for neteyam in the rain you swear is just falling stars. She hates you. She hates you with all her heart.

Somewhere inside you is your mothers daughter. Wondering who did this to you.

You didn’t like violence But you were prone to it.

You didn’t like war. But you're afraid of the day it no longer has a use for you.

War ruined you. Because war made you angry. And anger tortured you.

You weren’t deserving of sunlight, maybe that's why you familiarize yourself with the bleakness of dusk.

Maybe that’s why you loved Neteyam.

Maybe that’s why you hated yourself.

Maybe that’s why you’ve trained yourself with blood stains and tear tracks.

Your mother was forgiving. She adopted a human child after watching her family die, and hometree fall.

She devoted herself to eywa, a woman true to the kindness of her heart and the flame of forgiveness.

She had seen fire and escaped it.

You had seen fire and burned with it.

The shackles on your wrist. The burning in your throat.

You were a child forced into a warrior.

And maybe it was time to heal, but why didn’t it allow you?

This shadow oppressed you. And maybe this prolonged insanity was a good sanctuary to be understood, not severed. Your bones were made of seared iron, the fissure of a once porcelain excellence.

War had ruined you. And ruined things didn’t deserve to be loved.

Jake pulled you close to him, wrapping an arm around you, you leaned your head on his shoulder.

“You’re one of the fucking strongest people i know. You know that?”

He whispered, and the simplicity of his touch settled an almost agonizing comfort.

“Can you fix me?”

You whisper.

Jake shook his head.

“Y/n. You are not something to be fixed. You need to be healed. And I know you can do it. And we’ll be right beside you the whole damn time.”

You let yourself close your eyes.

“You're a soldier, kid. Just like me. A fighter. It’s all we think we know, all we think we’ll ever deserve. We swear to live and die on that battlefield.”

You nod.

“Sometimes it feels like the battlefield is the closest to home.”

Jake speaks once more,

“Until you find someone who feels a little closer.”

By the way he smiled softly, you knew he was talking about Neytiri.

You leaned further into his shoulder, and he patted your back.

“You know, back on earth, we have a special way of dealing with cases like these. Soidlers who need trauma relief.”

You blinked at him, immediately intrigued.

“You do? How?”

“Therapy.”

You tried the strange human word out on your tongue.

“Ther…ah…pey-

There-a-pay-”

“Therapy.”

Jake corrected gently.

“What’s that?” You asked, as Jake stood up, putting his knife back in his sheath.

“Its where you go to someone who can help you talk things out. Iv’e seen a few back in my days. Military psychologists are what we call em’.”

You raised your eyebrow.

From spending time with max, norm, and spider, you knew that humans had a different way of dealing with their feelings than na’vi did. But this new information peaked your interest.

“How can i find one?”

Jake paused.

That’s a damn good question.

He thought to himself.

He hummed for a moment, petting bobs neck and you put your bow back in its place on your saddle.

“How about this, every few days, you and I can meet.”

Jake proposed.

You raised your eyebrows.

“Where?”

He shrugged. “Anywhere you want. We can go to one of the mountains, or the stream, or the caves, whatever. It can be private. And we can talk like you would to a therapist.”

You considered it for a moment, but after all, maybe this would fix you.

You shook on it and agreed.

“Deal.”

Jake ruffled your braids and smiled.

“Attagirl. Lets get moving. Those yerik are probably at the lake by now. I’ll race you.”

You mounted Kailo, rolling your eyes.

“I don’t abuse the elderly.”

“Oh fuck off i’m not that old.”

You faked a wince as jake mounted Bob.

“Oo, careful grandpa. You shouldn't be moving too much like that.”

Jake flipped you off.

“Kiss the darkest side of my blue as-”

Before he could finish, You and Kailo took to the skies.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

Back at high camp..

Neteyam’s pov:

Lo’ak groaned as he laid in his hammock.

Today felt like small pieces had been torn out of it. The absence of my father, my mother, Kiri and Y/n all contributed to this unease.

It fascinating how easily little pieces of things leave something so unstructured when certain routines in your life undergoes a sudden cessation. Only fragments of familiarity keep me company today.

Oh, yeah. That and Lo’ak’s bitching.

I’m never one to complain. Not really. But Lo’ak…He was my personal acception.

I’ve been stuck with him since this morning. My father took Y/n out to hunt early before I awoke, and my mother and Kiri have gone to assist my grandmother in the Tsahik tent. Lo’ak lost his flight privileges after that little stunt he pulled during the raid, and I don’t feel like going anywhere alone. I offered to join my father last night on his hunt this morning, but my father insisted he and Y/n go hunting alone.

I offered to help my grandmother, but Kiri beat me to it. My mother asked me to stay home and start preparing for tonights meal. So here i was hunched over chopping up root vegetables while I was stuck in this void we called home. I felt detached today. Like the world just floated around me while I remained rooted like a weathering tree.

My accidental overhearing over my sister and Y/n talking last night is still fresh on my mind.

“Dude..I think you’re done with that one.”

Lo’ak’s voice finally reaches my ears.

I lift my head, and he points down to where i had clearly been so distracted, i had diced the poor vegetable into tiny pieces, too small to be cooked over a fire. They would shrivel away in the smoke.

I threw them to the side, trying to refocus.

“What is up with you today?” Lo’ak interrogates instead of asking. I keep my eyes down, shrugging.

“Nothing. Why?”

He shrugs, mocking my movements, leaning back in his hammock, leaving his leg to dangle, his toes brushing the ground.

“Dunno. You just seem kinda…off?”

I sigh, scraping the new batch of chopped vegetables off the carved board i was cutting them on and into the wooden bowl with my knife.

“Just a bit tired. I didn’t get much sleep last night”

Technically, that wasn’t a lie. Which seems in my favor, if you remember from earlier, I’m a shit liar.

Memory was a funny thing. It claws at your mind until you grant it consciousness, and then it romances itself with such scandalous notions. Unforgiving us for ever dreaming of forgetting.

It wants to awake something in us that we can only pray stays dead.

I knew I shouldn't have been listening to Y/n’s words. I knew I should have been asleep.

But know that it’s found me, it captures me.

I want to exist in her mind not only as a figment, because there’s one particular part that is beating the shit out of me.

‘I don’t hate him anymore. I hate the delusions of himself he put inside my head.’

I used to think she only hated me. Hated me for my ignorance, my hesitance, my fear.

I hated it too.

But no. She hated me because she thought i lied to her, gave her something so precious, so inexplicably binding only to shatter it infront of her eyes.

My love for her was never a lie. It was never a joke, or a ruse, or a figment in this phantom of longing that looms over me.

I couldn’t allow this to go on any longer. That I knew for sure.

Unfortunately, getting to Y/n was a wall i couldn’t seem to climb.

When she wasn’t out hunting or strategizing air strikes with my father, she was with spider, and Spider didn’t let me go within 5 feet of Y/n.

I had to admire him for it, despite him becoming a vicissitude in the middle of my current mission, I had to give him some slack as a fellow oldest sibling.

If anyone had hurt kiri, or tuk (when she came of age to engage in such ‘romantic affairs’) , if anyone hurt them the way I hurt y/n, I’d probably have to put my mother’s years of archery lessons to use. Granted, My father would probably skin the poor bastard and wear him as a coat before I even got a chance.

I can’t blame him for protecting Y/n.

I try to think further as i continue chopping, my tail flicking behind me.

I decide Kiri is my best option. I’ll find her when she returns from Tsahik’s tent. Eywa please, just give me one chance. I swear i’ll-

“Where’s Tuk?”

Lo’ak suddenly pipes up, he probably got bored with his own laziness.

I glance up at him as i scarped off my knife.

“Kyuna picked her up this morning to take her to play with popiti for the day.”

Lo’ak raised an eyebrow.

“Kyuna?”

I nodded, not looking up.

“Your new mate?”

I don’t like the way he said ‘new mate’. As if i had one in the first place.

I shake my head, slightly annoyed.

“She’s not my mate. I’m not interested in kyuna.”

“Tuk said-”

“Tuk doesnt know what shes talking about.”

Lo’ak shrugs, leaning back to sit up a bit, looking at me with skeptical eyes.

“What’s really going on with you?”

“I don’t know what you speak of.”

He scoffs. “I’m not stupid, Neteyam. You’re acting off. You have all morning, all day, and even now. Whats the deal?”

I place my knife down, glaring at my brother.

“I don’t owe you an explanation. Okay?”

The tent falls silent, and I continue on with my chores, I hear Lo’ak mutter a small apology under his breath. I cave.

“No, I’m just tired..I shouldn’t have snapped like that.”

Lo’ak nods, fidgeting with his songchord.

“If you don’t want kyuna…You aren’t thinking about Y/n. right?”

Lo’ak was more than displeased when I started courting y/n. And he didn’t try to hide it either.

Lo’ak loves y/n. Not romantically. But he loves her.

It’s the kind of closeness that isn’t sex or intimately deep.

Lo’ak always felt like the distant star in our family. The one who strays from the perfect rotation of each patterned path.

His hands were stained with hunger. Imperfect painted sun blood stained skies.

Lo’ak’s trust in us was ghostly and transluscent. He didn’t always feel like he fit the shape carved for him.

Lo’ak’s imperfect edges, sharpened and rough, scarred and edged to a point.

He found his place between Spider and Y/n. His bestest friends. Two people he would die for.

Found his own sky.

Dark blue and purple hues and the warmth of pale moonlight, he found his place.

When Lo’ak found something that accepted him, he protected it with his life.

And I can’t blame him. Being in love your brother's best friend is awkward.

Lo’ak was afraid of me stealing that away from him.

Of me invading his circle.

The reality of a sacrifice is an odd, unevenly constructed abstraction.

People don’t think I was born from my mother, rather I was carved from stone and polished to a pristine hue of gold.

My parents expected me to build myself wings and fly further than anyone had ever tried.

When the line wasn’t perfectly straight, it was erased and made a new slate. Blank. Perfect. Spotless.

And sometimes, I’m not neteyam to my parents.

I’m my mother, just a younger version.

I am my father, worn thin from a war and plagued by my past promises.

I’m just a shell of something that was no more. Something to refill with their own pieces of the past.

My skin and soul is only stitched out of parts of them. But only the unscathed parts.

Anything that dared to be less than that was indescent. Unworthy of the light.

My mother’s anger, my fathers guilt, was a far too discolored shade to be seen in the sky.

My existence was like a kaleidoscope of muted colors. A prism turned prison.

I think I’ve forgotten how to slouch. How to sit with an unwelcome posture. How to fidget and how to fantasize.

My entire life is full of sacrifices.

Sacrificing y/n for my future.

Sacrificing my brothers best friend. My future mate.

But I’ll be damned if I loose her again.

So, I lie for the second time.

“No. I wasn’t thinking about y/n, idiot.”

Lo’ak nods,

Leaning back, closing his eyes. I mentally high five eywa because he doesn’t interrogate me further.

“You know, instead of taking a nap, you could be helping me.”

I huff, and fight the urge to roll my eyes, and he sighs dramatically.

“Neteyam, I’m too pretty for slave labor.”

I throw a vegetable at his head and he hisses in pain.

“Fuck you. That’s sibling abuse.”

He whines.

“I’m about to abuse my responsibilities with this knife if you don’t get up off your lazy ass and do something useful with your existence.”

I point my knife at him and he groans, standing up and leaving the hammock.

“Easy there, big bro. Spider will be here soon.”

I raise my brow, an uneasy feeling settling in my chest.

“Spider? Here?”

He nods.

“Yeah. We have chores to do too, ya know.”

I shake my head, slicing the new vegetable horizontally, watching the colored juices trickle down the roots and stain the cutting board.

“No. Not here. You know how mother feels about spider.”

Spider was my mother’s foil. An old term our father taught us.

My mother owed Zensira her life. And she swore to her a long time ago, that if anything happened to her or ka’lik, she would step up to be a mother to y/n, the same went for my father.

But Zensira didn’t have one child. She had two. Spider was not biologically her child, but he was treated like her son all the same. Living in Y/n’s family’s tent, being cared for, the same way any mother would nurture a child.

My mother made promises for y/n. But she never made any for spider.

I don’t think she ever will.

To her, he was a demon. And alien. The type of animal with no hope of survival, but refuses to die. Remains unyielding even under the unwelcoming atmosphere of pandora.

He was an actor. A pathetic excuse of a performance. A pale child painted blue.

My mother loves y/n the same way she loves tuk and Kiri. Would go the same lengths for her as she would for any of her children, and the same thing applies to my father.

Spider was allowed everywhere in high camp except our family’s hut.

My grandmothers hut was an exception, because it was a communal place in our clan.

But my mother refused to have any sky demon’s presence scathe the memories of her home. Her only safe place. Where she raised her children and started her new life.

That’s probably why Lo’ak spent so much time at Y/n’s hut when he was little. It was one of the only places he could be comfortably with both Y/n and Spider at the same time.

“You know how mom feels about spider in the hut.”

Lo’ak’s expression is blanked with disinhibited concern and a genuine lack of guilt.

“Mom isn’t here. She’ll be gone all day. Plus, we’re making y/n some new arrows. She’s on that group hunt tonight.”

I crossed my arms.

“And who allowed you to mess with her supplies?”

Lo’ak scoffed. Placing his hands on his hips with a cocky grin.

“The mighty archer herself. I’ve been appointed by Y/n and tasked with a very important job. Who am I to decline her?”

“Just make sure he isn’t here for long. She can smell him if he’s been in here. You know mom’s senses.”

Lo’ak waves me off, standing to his feet, grabbing the small baskets of purple and red feathers y/n used for the fletching of her arrows, and starts to tie them to the shaft of the arrow.

Spider joined him not long after, the two if them sat in the middle of the tent, crafting arrows and talking.

Spider glanced at me after finishing another arrow.

“So where is everyone today?”

“Father took Y/n hunting. My mother and Kiri are assisting grandmother- and Tuk is with popiti.”

Spider raised an eyebrow at me, his mask fogging up momentarily with each breath.

“Who? Popiti?”

Lo’ak rolled his eyes.

“Kyuna’s little sister.”

Spider nodded in realization, then his expression soured.

Lo’ak snorted. “Neteyam’s new mate.”

“For the 5th time, she’s not my mate.”

Spider chuckles along with him and I swear i’m losing neurons from just breathing the same air as Lo’ak and Spider.

Or really, just Lo’ak.

I stood to my feet as i heard footsteps outside. Tuk must’ve finished up her activities with Popiti for the day.

Usually, It was An’kora. Popiti’s mother, who walked Tuk home in the afternoons.

But when I opened the flap. I’m faced with a face that isn’t my little sister, her braids slightly disheveled from a day of wild fantasies and games of tag.

A na’vi girl, with mid length braids and a beaded top smiles at me so sweetly it’s sickening.

You know those kinds of people that you've known since your childhood, and you always knew in one way or another, they would grow up to be assholes?

Yeah. That's Kyuna.

Kyuna was the girl that never let Spider or Kiri, Or Lo’ak play any of her games because of their ‘sky people germs'.

Kyuna was the girl that told everyone not to sit next to Y/n in the communal lessons we attend as children, telling everyone that she lived with a human boy who gave her diseases.

She does this thing where she laughs into her hand, and leans on the person closest to her, expecting them to allow her access nto their personal space as if the world had her name written on it.

She bows slightly, her movements unnecessarily exaggerated as she raises her two fingers to her forehead and dips them down.

“Oel ngati kameie, Neteyam.”

I return the gesture, nodding at her.

“Kyuna. It’s good to see you.”

No it’s not.

She bats her eyes at me, and my annoyance only simmers away when a familiar smaller na’vi body slams herself into my leg, pressing her head into my hip.

I chuckle softly, ruffling Tuk’s braids.

“Hey Tuk-Tuk. Did you have a fun time?”

I pat her shoulder as she opens her mouth to speak, her big eyes sparkling before she’s cut off by a shriek-like voice.

“Oh she had tons of fun! Her and Popiti just ran around for hours playing their silly little games.”

When you're an older sibling, you start to catch onto things. You start to memorize your younger siblings' habits, mannerisms, movements, even the slightest twitch of their tail.

Tuk was a creature of habit. And I could tell by the way she gently tugged on my loincloth, and the way she tucked herself behind my arm, she was uncomfortable.

I reach my hand out, and she takes it within a split second, gently borrowing herself in the space behind me.

I lean down a bit, keeping my hand in it’s place on her shoulder.

“Are you hungry? Why don’t you go on inside, yes? Spider and Lo’ak are already sitting. I’m sure Lo’ak would love to make you some seed-leaf wraps.”

Her tail flicks at the mention of her favorite snack, and she finally cracks a smile, before jogging inside.

“She’s adorable. Isn’t she??”

Kyuna sighs in an almost dreamily manner, I stand up straight again to face her.

“My mother was informed An’kora was taking Tuk home today. Did something come up?”

She waves me off, ridding my concern from the air.

“Mother got tied up on foraging duty. I figured I'd watch the girls and walk Tuk home.”

I nod, slowly. “Ah. Well, thank you for taking her home.”

She smiles, tilting her head like a viperwolf begging for scraps.

“Oh. No need to thank me. She’s precious, that little Tuktirey.”

I never liked the way she talked about my sister. Her tone was almost mocking, as if she was describing a doll or some kind of inanimate object.

“Well. I should get going. I don’t trust lo’ak alone with the firepit and Tuk is probably hungry-”

“My father wanted me to invite you on his next hunt. Are you free midday tomorrow?”

I wasn’t surprised when she offered. It’s all she talked about the last 4 times I had saw her.

The one time I did agree, all the man would talk about was what kinds of flowers Kyuna liked, and how no one had courted her yet.

My eywa, I wonder why.

There’s an unsteady rhythm that inhabits itself in my chest. The kind that sets off warning signals in your brain.

I scratch the back of my head awkwardly, my knuckle brushing my tswin.

“It’s a kind offer, really. But I’m already expected to join the night hunt tonight. The one led by y/n and my father.”

She stared at me with some notion of unrequited enamour, and I almost feel bad for her.

“I’m sorry. Maybe another time?”

She nods, her tail swishing behind her.”

“Of course. I’d expect nothing less from the future olo’eyktan of our clan.”

The emphasis on my title seems almost slurred, and my body instinctively takes a step back the moment she takes a step forward.

“Yes, well, my training has only been increasing.”

“Such a strong warrior. A man of the people. I’m surprised you don’t have the women of our clan falling at your feet. Oh, wait You do!”

Why was she yelling? I’m literally two feet in front of her.

I shifted uncomfortably on my feet.

“I should get back inside, kyuna.”

“One more thing, Neteyam?”

I don’t turn my body fully towards her, but my eyes focus on her figure nonetheless.

“There’s been rumors.”

Something twists in my stomach the moment she says that. Like a static running blank. Or soundwaves straightening into lines.

“What?”

“People talk. And there’s been word that the future olo’eyktan of our people will never find his tsahik.”

I groan, dragging my palm down my face.

“Don’t bother me with such matters, Kyuna. All this talk of the future that is too far away to be treading towards. My father is too stubborn to give up his place that fast. He will remain olo’eyktan for a long time before I take his place.”

She shrugs, crossing her arms.

“All i’m saying is..”

She takes another step, her chest nearly touching mine.

“You are wanted for more than you think. The women of this clan practically swoon over the thought of being by your side, and you haven’t even blinked at them.”

I click my tongue, averting my eyes.

“My future mate is none of your business. Nor is it the clans. Not now, at least.”

She goes to speak; but before she can utter her next words, Lo’ak came stumbling out of the tent with a less than pleased expression on his face.

“Bro.”

He tugs on my arm, gagging exaggeratingly.

“Tuk threw up- it’s a mess in there. Whatever Kyuna fed her is NOT sitting well.”

I blink at my brother, but it quickly registers that something wasn’t right.

“Are you sure? She seemed fine when she came home-“

“Dude. I know barf when I see it.

She must have ate something bad at Popiti’s.”

Kyuna was stunned, crossing her arms in an offended manner.

“I beg your pardon? Tuk didn’t eat anything at my place today.”

Lo’ak scoffed.

“Uh huh. Sure. You’re probably just trying to poison my sister. Aren’t you? Our father will be hearing about this!”

My main concern at the moment is Tuk.

“Excuse me-“

I muttered to Kyuna as an excuse for a goodbye, shoving past Lo’ak to my family’s tent, expecting to see a poor Tuktirey doubled over, regurgitating what was either late breakfast or early lunch, when instead all that comes into view is Tuk sitting cross-legged next to spider, as he starts methodically picking out some of the different seeds from the assorted bowls we used to prepare our meals. As he sat making leaf wraps for a suspiciously fine looking Tuk.

I crouched down next to her, feeling her forehead and keeping a hand gently on her back.

“Are you okay, Tuk?”

She nodded, blinking up at me.

My eyes flicker up when Lo’ak enters the tent, whistling as if nothing just happened.

“Lo’ak, Tuk seems fine..”

I trail off.

He winks at me.

“Your welcome. Kyuna left us in peace.”

Pain in the ass or not, I have to admit, Lo’ak was smarter than we give him credit for.

when I finally finished peeling the vegetables, I left them in their basket and enjoyed a break with Tuk, Lo’ak, and Spider.

We all sat eating Spider’s very poor excuse of a seed-leaf wrap. But they worked, for some odd reason no one could place.

Spider didn’t eat, because of his mask, so i guess he settled for conversation.

“So, Tuk. How was your playdate?”

Tuk nods eagerly, talking through a mouth full of seed-wrap.

I reach for the extra cloth in my loincloth pocket, letting her wipe her mouth before speaking normally again.

“It was fun. But I don't think I like Kyuna anymore.”

Lo’ak scoffed, high fiving tuk.

“Put er’ there sis. Neither do I. She’s a bitch.”

“Lo’ak. Language.” I scold, smacking his head lightly.

He rolls his eyes.

“Fine. Shes a B-I-T-C-H. Better?” Spider laughs. Leaning back.

Lo’ak shoves him.

“Oh and what’s so funny? Mr, ‘i’m afraid of women’?”

Spider shakes his head, raising his pointer finger to poke lo’aks chest.

“Correction. I’m afraid of your mother and Y/n.”

“Everyones afraid of Y/n.”

I ignore Lo’ak and Spider’s bickering, turning my attention to Tuk.

“Was Kyuna bothering you?”

She shook her head, taking another bite. Speaking through a mouth full of food

“Nuh-uh. But she kept asking me if you were home, and if you had received any courting gifts yet, or if you wanted to go hunting with her.”

I bit my tongue, smoothing down some of tuk’s stray braids.

“How about this, Next time, I’ll walk you home from Popiti’s.”

She nodded and took another bite of her food.

“I don’t think she should be your mate anymore”

Tuk shakes her head disapprovingly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Spider raises an eyebrow.

“Kyuna and you are a mated pair? Since when?”

Lo’ak snickers and I groan.

“For the last time, she is not my mate.”

Tuk blinks at me before speaking again.

“Can you mate with y/n instead? She’s nicer.”

I shove another leaf wrap into her hands.

“How about we play the quiet game for a bit?”

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

Hello my lovely virago readers! So because tumblr didn’t like my original 28k words version of this chapter, iv’e split this into 3 parts. This is part 1 of chapter 3. Part 2 and 3 will be posted straight after.

Thank you for your patience!

Please don’t forget to comment your favorite quote, dynamic, or moment!

Taglist

@mntx666

@isnt-itstrange

@thebestrouge

@bay7let

@fairuzwhat

@jackiehollanderr

@6423btw

@satesatesate2009

@0stargirl0

@heavenlysstuff

@dayyzlol

@iheartamajiki

#avatar the way of water #jake avatar #neteyam sully #neteyam x reader #neteyam #neytiri #kiri sully #lo’ak x reader #neteyam x you #avatar fanfiction

81 notes · View notes

prince-liest · 7 months

Note

Your last 666 series installment is the best thing that happened to me. Its full of gore, somehow fluffy and wait-.. do I finally see some FRICKING COMUNICATION between the two idiots!?!?!

Ngl, Vox's 'Alastor not being able to love' statement hurt my soul. Your writing is brilliant and and let's just see what ending ya wro-..O MA LORD IS THAT VAL'S LOVE POTION!?!?!?!?

Now I need to know what's next!!!! And VOX I SWEAR IF U USE THIS SITUATION IN ANY WAY IM GOING TO SKIN YOU ALIVE.

This series is a blast♡ love it!♡ makes me weirdly passionate and excited hah!

Some communication, and some communication failure, hahaha. They're going to be talking a lot more in the next one, actually, because I meant to write some NSFW and they had to go and attempt a healthy conversation instead. What can you do.

Thank you so much, I'm delighted that you're enjoying! :D

And: Way more anon asks about the latest 666 getting answered under the cut! <3 I combined a bunch from the last couple of days.

prince, I'm going insane over the latest fic. so we know from Alastor's inner monologue that he knows the roofie was an accident, but considering the super stressful situation, the fact that Vox was the one to ask for a kiss and the fact that Alastor accused him of wanting instead of loving him not a few minutes ago…. makes me wonder if Vox might not be at least a little worred that Alastor might think it was on purpose <3 gonna be rotating this in my head for the foreseeable future - ✨

I am so glad that these things are on y'all's minds, hahaha. Because you can bet they are on mine. >:D And THANK YOU, very pleased to be dragging everyone down into insanity with me.

“Should I stitch together the scars your teeth left in me in a mirror of my own signature on your body.” Fucking. POETRY. 🐈‍⬛

I am always so happy when I write shit like this and instead of everyone pointing at me and going, "Look, what an EDGELORD!" the response is you people being VERY nice and leaning into the feelsy fun! 💛

holy moly ??? i love the new 666 addition aaaah 😭🙏 the trials and tribulations of feeling scorned and ghosted by a loser who confessed his love to you and the next time you see him he’s holding your LITERAL heart in his hands by alastor ! OMFG this was too good esp the part where vox is like “bro why do YOU CARE ?? i thought you didn’t love me huh?” and alastor is like well. maybe i.do. 😐 LIKE CMONN this really played out like some soap drama and i loved the neat details on resuscitative thoroctomy (learned a new word too so double bonus) the fact vel was on the line w her and val’s apparent surgeon for val’a little ‘incidents ??? GOLDEN I SAYY hope we see more of ur oc … 🫣🫣 btw ofc vox would love to an end an argument with a kiss OF FUCKING COURSE HE WOULD 😭 thank u sm for this chapter princeliest my dear <3 hope life is treating u well too !! -🦌

Vox is ahead of Alastor in terms of effective in-the-moment conflict resolution, but goddamn if he isn't fucked up in his own fun little ways. They're so not done with most of these issues, but at least they're on they're way to maybe be able to have a real conversation about them!

You know. If they chose to do that kind thing. Instead of whatever they will probably do instead.

Anyway, THANK YOU!! I had a great deal of fun writing this chapter and digging into some of the issues that have been slowly collecting underneath the surface of kinky radiostatic, so I'm happy you guys are enjoying as well!! :D

AS FOR MY OC... I WILL POST ABOUT THEM SOON. I LOVE THEM A LOT AND IT EXCITES ME THAT PEOPLE WANT TO KNOW MORE OF THEM. Tysm for asking Q^Q

Just read the new addition to the 666 verse, and inside of me are two wolves: The first is saying: Immaculate, artistry of the highest form. We finally get Alastor’s own confrontation with his vulnerability and him trying to figure out what exactly the relationship with Vox means to him. Cannot wait for how this all is going to develop. The other part of me: THE BREADCRUMBS WORKED THE MUSE IS WRITING!!! Followed by this image (since tumblr won’t let me attach it while being anonymous) https://i.redd.it/hx2shk642vs71.jpg -🕊️

LMAO THAT PIC. Amazing, flawless, thank you. The breadcrumbs DEFINITELY worked, please keep feeding. Digging into Alastor's shit is bringing me life and I'm happy to share it, hahaha. We're swinging even harder on the introspection in the next one!

As a sucker for medical gore and aroace angst, I lack the words to express my love and appreciation for your most recent installment of 666, but your writing of radiostatic's dynamic was captivating and proved to be such a lovely read as always! I loved that you touched on Alastor's relationships with the women around him as that has always been such an interesting aspect of his character to me! I never really put much thought into how Vox's apparent avoidance of Alastor in the show could mirror Alastor's disappearance, and now it will Not leave my mind. My heart hurts for these two dorks, super looking forward to chapter 2!

"Medical gore and aroace angst" should be the title of my memoir. Honestly, this series has ended up a lot more edgy-bloody than I expected it to, since I usually tend to prefer to portray my whump/angst/violence/etc in a much more roundabout way, but it's actually kinda tipped over into, like... part of the point is how banal it is, how beside the point. The upsetting heavy-hitting bits aren't the blood, they're everything else that goes on around it. Anyway, thank you so much! <3 I think your heart will find some relief in chapter two, haha, I hope you enjoy!!

Meanwhile alastor, completely convinced that there’s no situation where vox actually loves him and is happy with the way things are—either vox wants more and is going to start asking for more, or he doesn’t actually love him and just wants to have sex with him and thus either way he is a Liar. They’re so fucking bad at this. No one is capable of being the adult here. I think they need an auspitice.

It's really funny that you said that, because that is kind of exactly the role that [spoiler] ends up playing, though in a more roundabout way, hahaha. They certainly need someone to, like, get them to be having the same conversation with each other instead of two parallel ones. I think the fun thing about writing Alastor reacting to his own feelings is just how much his reaction can change based on how things are framed for him, and it leaves a lot of wiggle room for how differently I've ended up writing him reacting to the season 1 finale in 666 vs in Happily Ever After, and Other Shit Nepotism Can't Buy.

But, god, you really nailed the description of what Alastor is feeling. <3

Vox in the latest 666, my ENTIRE HEART. Literally nothing about how he read the situation was a bad take or a leap to conclusions, but alastor constantly says the opposite of what he means and refuses to admit vulnerability or friendship and what the hell else was vox meant to do with that, of course he backed off, they need to have this talk so badly

YES, PRECISELY! Like, I hope it came through that really neither of them was completely crazy to react the way they did! It's a result of how much of their communication has been nonverbal, implied, and talking around things - they'd been doing so well up until this point, but there's only so far that can take you before you start thinking that you're on the same page when really you're reading two completely different books! Thank you sm! <3

‘But I am capable,” Alastor says gently. “I love you very much.” Vox gapes up at him. “...I. Fuck you.” His voice is tight, strained. “I don’t fucking believe you.” Alastor feels his smile thin. “Well. That’s just dandy, then, isn’t it?”’ I AM NOT OK GOING FUCKING FERAL

Probably one of my favorite lines to write, ehehehe. THANK YOU ANONNNN <3 It's kinda interesting to see how differently some people read this. Some folks thought Alastor was saying it to hurt Vox (which is how Vox read it). Some folks thought it was true (how Alastor intended it). Some folks thought Alastor was trying to fit into the mold that he thought Vox wanted from him (how I intended it). All of them make sense as readings! >:)

#ask #personal #Anonymous #black cat anon #sparkle anon #deer anon #dove anon #t #long post #tumblr if you break the cut on this one I'm gonna fuckin cry #answering 9 asks in one post here

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wespirallin · 2 months

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sweet tooth fanfic idea

Okay so people, I just finished watching the last season of Sweet Tooth on Netflix, and holy moly is it so good. I had a few fanfic ideas that I hoped were already written, but if you're in the community, you've realized by now that we're kinda small.

So I decided to write my own (yay!!). I don't wanna give any spoilers but it's going to be about a bird hybrid oc (Mack) that's found and semi-raised by the Animal Army.

I want to focus on a few specific (all platonic so far) relationships Mack has and how his character grows as the seasons progress. I literally just wrote chapter one of the fic and decided to come talk about it on tumblr lol.

Anyway, here's the first chapter. It's more like a prologue that features Mack's dad who is going to be very relevant to the story later on.

Chapter 1 / prologue

It was just a regular Tuesday for Benjamin Crane when the end of the world hit. Well, at least when shit started to get actually real. Perhaps dumbing down the Great Crumble to a specific day wasn’t the most accurate way of looking at history, but it helped keep him sane.

It was the end of a long shift for Benjamin and he just wanted to go home to his wife, but he had one more argument to get through.

“Sam, I already told you. We had Room 3 booked from the very start of the week. Everything’s already prepped up for the surgery tomorrow. I can’t just bail out of it. The patient -hell the kid's family is counting on me.”

“So?”, dared to ask his collogue “I still don’t get how you can’t just rope Sthe new guy teve in. He has no major operations on for tomorrow as far as I know. And he’s more than capable of getting the job done. Not to burst your ego bubble, Benji but you’re as replaceable as the rest of us mate”

Benjamin made an incredulous expression. “Well if I’m ‘perfectly replaceable’, why don’t you go find another guy to help you co-op your operation?” he scowled.

“Come on, you know I need a plastic surgeon for this. There’s no way I can reconstruct that hand on my own. And last I checked, there wasn’t another one of you guys in the market. So you’re my best shot. You in or out?”, pleaded the surgeon.

Normally, Sam wouldn’t have needed another pair of hands to help him out, however, this one was a special case. The patient was a 20-year-old guy, who got his hand caught in a machine of sorts. According to the X-ray results, the hand was broken from multiple different places, and several tendons were snapped. As a general surgeon, hands weren’t Sam’s specialty. And no matter how much pride he had in his abilities, he knew when to ask for help. Even when it killed him inside. Even when it was from his best friend/arch-enemy (who was way too arrogant for his own good).

The argument was interrupted by the blaring alarm of an incoming ambulance. That was nothing out of the ordinary, seeing that the two colleagues were in the break area just outside the ER. Just as Benji opened his mouth the reply, the doors of the ambulance flew open and a team of medical personnel (who were decked out in hazmat suits for some reason) rushed a stretcher into the ER.

The two barely had the chance to take a look at the patient before she was out of sight. The woman looked deathly pale and her face had a sickly yellow hue to it along with beads of sweat that had drenched her hair and clothes. The skin around her nose and eyes were red and if Benji looked close enough, he was sure that he could see a few exposed arteries. The one thing that had unsettled both men was the rapidly twitching pinkie finger, which seemed to be the only sign of life from the patient.

After losing about five percent of the population of Earth, the Sick had seemed to be taken under control. The hospitals around the world had had about a month of Sick-less break until now. It seemed that another wave of the Sick was incoming.

Benji grimaced and bit his lip.

“That was…”

“Unsettling as fuck.”

“That’s one word for it.”

“You think it’s back?”, Sam tried to steady his voice.

He had lost his wife and kids to the first wave. Benji’s heart ached for him but he pushed the bitter feelings down. Getting sentimental never helped anyone. It hadn’t helped the woman he saw as a sister nor had it helped the two little innocent children he loved as his nieces.

“I don’t think it was ever gone in the first place” Benji answered honestly and took a few deep breaths to calm himself.

The lingering hazmat team outside the ER didn’t help settle any of their nerves, but they had more pressing matters to get back to. Sam patted Benji’s shoulder a few times before opening his mouth to speak.

“Think about it yeah? You still have the rest of the afternoon to think about it, but be quick. Promise, I’ll organize everything and I’ll talk to Steve. See if he’s up for covering your little case of local anesthesia.”

Benji snorted at that and shook his head in disbelief. What part of a ‘3-hour very important surgery’ did his friend not understand?

The patient up next was a nine year old kid that had fallen on his face. His parents had said that he slipped from some monkey bars. A broken nose and . It was nothing that major compared to what Benji usually dealt with, but these were the relatives of a friend he was talking about. Benji pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration, damn had he missed the old days where all he had to do was get in and out of a surgery. Managing the scheduling of the patients without any secretarial help in a collapsing world wasn’t the easiest thing in the world.

The hospital was short of staff at the moment, as it constantly was after the new ‘Sick Pandemic’ had broken out. Almost all of the nurses and other staff were either dead or transferred to ER or to the patient care areas that were heavily quarrantiened.

Finally, he let out a sigh of defeat and grunted. Hand operations were his favorite anyways.

“Fine, but I’m not organizing shit -and the beers on Friday are on you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a very grumpy and pregnant wife to go back to.”

Sam forgot about the topic at hand at the mention of Pemma, a school friend of his. He let out an excited chuckle. He clapped Mikey’s shoulder.

“Oh yeah, how could I forget? Congratulations dude! I’m so happy for you two. Finally, becoming parents eh? Say hi to Pemma and Sam Jr for me yeah?”

“Sam for the last time, we’re not naming my child Sam Jr!”

“Pleaaseee? And it’s a unisex name. It can be short for Samantha if it’s a girl, or for Samuel or whatever that starts with Sam. Or it can be just Sam if it decides to be non binary or something one day! See? Win-win.”

The younger man gave him an unimpressed look and raised an eyebrow.

“Sam, my kid is not going to be nonbinary. See you tomorrow for the surgery, idiot.”

Benji pushed past Sam and walked toward his car. Now he had a very unpleasant phone call to make to the family of the kid he was supposed to operate the next day.

Benjamin Crane drove straight home, completely unsuspecting of what the future had in store for him, his wife, and his soon-to-be-born child.

Okay so that was that. Some feedback would be very welcome because I feel lost on which platform to post it on or if it would get any traction at all. I'd probably keep working on it tbh just to scratch that writing itch inside me but oh well. We'll see. Go watch sweet tooth if you haven't yet btw, it's amazing.

#sweet tooth netflix #sweet tooth becky #sweet tooth show #gus sweet tooth #sweet tooth oc #sweet tooth fanfic #oc #ocs #my ocs #fanfic ideas #fanfiction #please help lol #idk what to tag this as #i just need people to see it lol #animal army #platonic relationships #platonic love

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bless-my-demons · 5 months

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Hey! I hope you are doing well I miss your updates ❣️❣️❣️

Thank you for checking on me🥹 I finally got a 3 day weekend off from work (it’s been 5 weeks since I’ve had more than one day off at a time, holy moly) and ya girl is finally finding her writing vibes again😭 I watched Eclipse this morning (well, my night - I’m a nightshift worker) and it made cranking out Chapter 29 so much easier. Also, this ask kinda kicked my butt into gear because I miss all of you guys too🫶

#jasper hale x reader #jasper hale fanfiction #redamancy series #jasper hale x female!reader #twilight fanfiction #jasper whitlock hale #bless-my-demons #ask bless my demons

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y-u-k-i11231 · 4 months

Text

From past to present -chapter 2

Because you knew that they were soldiers, you knew that they'd understand sign language. so for communication between you and the group, you used just that. As for now, you stopped on the corner, raising your hand up in a tight fist. that indicated to stop. Everyone was quiet, thankfully, and thanks to that you knew that three enemies were approaching. The lieutenant seemed to catch on as well, immediately he whispered to you, "There are three enemies in total, let us take care of it." you looked at him and he gripped his gun tight. They wanted to shoot them, but that would be too loud, so you shake your head. Just when you wanted to say why, it was too late, the enemies were there.

Thankfully your training kicked in and you jumped on the first one, slicing his throat and stabbing him to his shoulder to end it up, throwing the used knife on the second one while launching on the third one. it was all so quick that not even the third guy could shoot. Kicking his hand, he dropped the gun, and you used that moment to grab his head and send your knee to his face. Looking behind you can see the lieutenant standing in awe, he wanted to speak but was unable to do so. All of you got near the exit and you stopped for a bit. "One minute." "w..what?" asked the lieutenant. glancing back you said "Can't have them to continue in this condition, can we?'' Looking back Charles saw that the workers were exhausted and needed to catch a breath from the running. "oh." he looked back at the guy. "Say, did you come alone?" you looked back forward and nodded. Charles was in awe once again, he saw what you're capable of, but he couldn't believe that only one single person was able to break into a safehouse full of enemy hostiles and defeat them. All this was done by only one person. "So you're mercenary?" he asked but unfortunately for him the minute passed and you waved with your hand to gesture that all of you were on the move again. All this time you were cautious, searching for hostiles all over and occasionally taking some down. The soldiers were useless at this point, not once were they needed their help. Not like you mind thought, you prefer it this way, too used to this.

After half an hour the destination came to an end and the team was reunited with the other half. Charles was surprised and confused. " What are you guys doing here?" "This guy over there came to rescue us and then said to wait here so we did and ya all came." Sergeant Duncan answered. "He?" Charles pointed at you, turning your way as he spoke to the Sergeant about what happened on their side. While discussing with him, he is watching you. Not like he could see much thanks to you being turned the other way, still watching out for any hostiles.

Peacefully eating an energy snicker you stood on the side, leaving them for now. From what you saw and briefly even heard they wanted to speak alone. so you stepped out of the way for them. Shortly after you finished your snack and were about to drink water, Charles patted your shoulder. "Hey so for the rescue…" he spoke as he went to stand beside you, and when he looked at you he was shocked and even more amazed. to say the least. " Holy Moly! you're a girl?! and a teen!?" This reaction didn't surprise you one bit. nor many could take the fact that a kid, more a girl saved them. hiding your face again the Lieutenant spoke again "Hey hey, I didn't mean it in any bad way." he said reassuring you and slightly shaking his hands. " I was just surprised that a kid saved us.. more, where did you learn how to fight kiddo?" "... by myself." you said looking away. clear lie. Charles was not surprised by your answer, he understood that you may not want him to know more about you, and it was not your job to tell others about yourself. He is scratching behind his neck." Alright, you don't have to answer that. but, can I at least know your name?" "...Kim." you faced him. "Kim? Is that your real name or… no of course it isn't. Well nice to meet you, Kim. I'm Lieutenant Charles Wallace. thank you for saving us." he said with a smile while holding his hand reached out for you to take it and shake it. and you do. with a nod you accepted his words. " My job here is done, drive for half an hour to the east and there is a village." you said turning away to walk away. " hey! One last thing" he said, making you turn to him one last time. "Here take this and if you have any problems in the future or simply need a hand, don't hesitate to call this number. got it?" he said with a grin as he handed you a piece of paper. Inspecting it, you see a number written on it. You nod and look at him, tucking the paper into your pocket. Waving at him you walked off your own way.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

18.4.2022

Sitting in a briefing room where on your left is Sergeant Turner and on your right is Corporal Ellis. Both are from your team. Team 205. "Soldiers we got a mission to do, we got information that some cartel in the Middle East is doing quite a problem. Nothing out of the ordinary," said Captain James Fletcher while going through the files. "Here is the information about this mission." he tossed everyone their own copy of the file. You read through it. "drugs… arsons.. kidnapping and human trafficking?" asked one of your teammates. The captain nodded with a slightly mad and serious face. "Yes. the intel said that they kidnap younger women and children to sell them afterward." "Why can't the police deal with it?" "because they're not in only one state.." you said while glancing up from the files at the captain who just nodded and confirmed your thoughts. "They operate underground. unfortunately for us, in three countries that neighbor each other. The colonel already approved and made things easier for us by making calls over the countries that the cartel is taking place in." He said giving further information about this mission.

#x reader #tf 141 #call of duty #cod

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rivaille-13 · 1 year

Note

Hey Hans! I just noticed that you never really posted your new fanfic with the 1950-ish vibes here so let me be the one to promote it for ya lol

i know quite people are begging this lovely writer to update an epilogue for ATW or even asking updates of By Dawn but we never really had your answers *sad cries* until my email beeps that you actually posted another fic *holy moly*

And it’s freakin 1950’s. FOR REAL guys read it the title is “From Afar” and honestly Hans I’m kind of scared it has a cutesy vibes but at the same time it screams disaster and chaos just like the movie Edge of Love (ik ik, you’re a fan of Cillian just like moralee!)

Again, the writing is incredible im forever a fan. But pls Hans, could you please update By Dawn too? That story got me on chokehold I don’t know how I actually read that because I’m literally bawling every chapters but it’s still freaking beautiful

Ok love u

Wow, this is a long ask indeed! I don’t know what to answer first, it has been a while but please let me express my gratitude first. The amount of support I am still getting is very flattering and heart warming so thank you very much.

It has been two years since the last chapter of After The War, and I swear that I’ve tried to write an epilogue, but then tossed it right into the bin because there has been some changes I want to revise with the whole story. It feels like the story is still lacking plots, and I’m really not satisfied with the whole outcome and grammatical error…I’m still at Chapter 3 revision, and it’s taking me a long time and it’s killing me too.

While By Dawn, I’ll Leave is like the skeleton meme that was left chained at the bottom of the pool LOL I’m very kidding but yes, a year had already passed since I last updated a new chapter. To give you my answer, I have a draft of the next chapter — around 3,000 words but I definitely feel the need to drop a hell of a long chapter in regards to the POV of whom character I am writing…I think that this chapter should express the missing details (I know some of the readers are left hanging and dissatisfied with Levi and Mikasa’s choices) to give way that both of the characters suffered equally in their own way…alright no spoilers. Haha

And of course, I almost forgot! From Afar — 1950’s and stuff…I’m getting a lot of suggestions to write a 50’s one so here I tried. Tackles about the 1940-50’s, I actually don’t know how to react with that opinion of yours but it did make me laugh. The chaos and disaster, hmm…maybe? But it’s not going to land like The Edge of Love for sure, I don’t want Mikasa to be milking Levi’s military pension the way Vera did it to William (Cillian Murphy)! Hahaha, maybe the vibes, you know, I’m still head over heels towards Cillian as Levi and so on.

Thank you for promoting it again, and for the time to ask me such. I’m sorry, there’s no emoji available, my iPhone is shitty, I can’t put emoji on my text!

To everyone who wants to give From Afar a try, here’s the link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48274930

It’s not really fixed yet, like the title and tags could change but yeah, a 1950’s…enjoy and let me know what you think. (:

#rivamika #rivamika fanfic #リヴァミカ

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thatcheeseycandle · 6 months

Text

//REACTION TIME NANAMAN AKA SPOILERS FOR CHAPTER 32 IPOS

I ALRESDY MEDSED UP MY THROAT AND LUNGS CAUSE OF MY REACTION TO THE SUMMARY MY GOSHDHFH

TITLE CARD IS BANGER THOUGH NGL!!

Arroow ARROW ARROW DONT DO THIS

I JUST IM TEARING UP NA JUST READING THIS WHOLE THING

ARROW MENTIONING HOW TORNADO CRIED HERSELF TO SLEEP ITS JUST ITS STABBING MY HEART RN

Im not crying YOU ARE- i CANT WITJ THESE TWO I SWEAR

"Sadly, Blue Pteter was all too used to it by now."

No NO BLUE PETER YOU SHOULDNT BE USED TO THIS YOU REALLY SHOULD NOT BE USED TO SUCH THINGS MY POOR GUY

IM NOT SURE IF I CAN EVEN TYPE OUT MOST OF MY REACTIONS CAUSE LIKE I JUST AAAHFGFHGGHHGHGH MY THROAT WILL NOT BE OKAY

NORTHS NAME MENTIONED OHMYGLAIFJFH ITS GONNA BE AN EVEN MORE ROCKIER ROAD GROM HERE MY FELLOW LURKERS

I canr I CNABT THERE TOO MANY TEARS FOR ME TO COUNT. I DONT KNOW IF I CAN WRITE DOWB MY REACTIONS WITH HOW MUCH IM SOBBING OVER-

Mallard MALLARD WHERE AR EYOU GGOGING MALALRD DOTNRN DONT

Ay AY AY SY WHAT SIR NGIELW WHATA WHATD OHMGYOSFI UNIONS GONNA GET WHAT SHE DESERVES AYYYYYY

OhlfydoghodhehOHIDHWHFJHSHAHD

THSI IS GETTING SO HEATED EHSJJSJF IM GLAD I BROUGHT A SNACK

oH OHHOHOHOHOH UNION SPILLING THE TEA LETS GOGODJGJ

Whatstw HWTAHAHAHAHDHFHHS WHAT HOLY WHAT AY WAIT HE ISNT GONNA TARNISH IT WHAT

heÑHEÑSPDD. MEEEE HAMILTON HELLO????? OGUYGH ITS GETTING EVEN MORE HEATED OHGMSYOGJD HAMILTON HAVING THE NERVE EHJAHFJFF

Ojh OH OHH OKAY YUP SIR NIGWL HES GONNA GO ALL OUT NOW WITH THAT LOOK

wyat OHMGYSOGJF WHAT MY JAW IRS KUST OHMGYSPGJJDBFJSHHFFJ

"Got more 'brain cells' than all of you Gresley's combined as the humans say" LOCUGDIIGOD GOOD LORD ICSJ CHOKED I CHOKED ON AIR JEKJASJFJFKJFJ

Okay OKAY AYY THINGS ARE COOLING DOWN YEKDJF

Woah woah OWHAHDHDV MY GOSH WELL I NEARLY FORGOT SHE WAS SCRAPPED- BEJAHHAHFJFJF THAT JOGGED UP MY MEMORY FOR SURE HEHAHAHAHDH

Ay AY AY AY EDWARDDHAHFFJFJD EDWARD HES BACK INTO THE STORY LETS GOFOAYJFHF

AND HES PAIRED UP EITH EVENING STAR TOO 👀 WOWOFUDJFB

Pause. I JUST- THIS WAS SO HEART WARMING MY GOSYFHFHFHFJFJ

THEYRE ONE OF THE ULTAMITE FLUFF DUOS FOR SURE AHGKFJWKUWJDFJ

woaj PWAH WOAH FLASHBACK TIMW LADS LET SOGISHD

"I told the Trust to bond Gold Dust into Tornado's frames when they were forged but they refused to listen to me." IM SORRY. HE LEGIT KNEW ABOUT ALL THIS ALL THAT THE ENTIRE TIME???????? HE AND SIR NIGEL VISITED TORNADO BEFORE SHE WAS AWAKENED???????????? TBIS IS JSUT. ITS SHOCLING. ITS A BANG OF A NEWS FLASH RN

IM SHOOK WGARA WHATA HE JUST HE JUST GAVE HIS HOLD DUST TO NORTH

THAT CONFIRMS ONE OF MY THEORIES, BEING THE ABILITY TO GIVE ONE YOUR OWN GOLD DUST. IM SHOOKEN TO MY CORE RN WHAT

Wait WOW WHAT HOLY GOSH MY GAD HES JUST HIS GDC HE WHARDBHAHAHA HOLY MOLY MY GOSHSHDVFB

Eh well NORTH TRUTH BE TOLD LANG WHAT DID YOU EXPECT FROM SOMEBODY WHOS LITERALLY NAMED AFTER HIM-

"At least this way, I can do something right in my pathetic existence." OKAY. PAUSE. SIT. WHAT. NORTH JUSKO YOU HAVE SO MUCH USEFUL KNOWLEDGE RN AND YOU HAVE SO MUCH TO LIVE FOR AAAGHHGHHGHGHGH FH

AWSEAEWSRD HE GAVE TORNADO A HGUYWJSHFKFJFNDNBDBXBDBSJDB YAYDYSYDHFV HAPPY BIRTHFAYAHDHFJDHFH

Oi HWAT SCOT WHATAHBA WHAT AR EYOUD OGUGN WHAT ANO HUH HOW ARE UOU HUH

IS THIS SOME SORT OF GOLD DUST OCCURENCE TYPE THING OR????? HOLY GOSH

Im not okay anymore. IM NOT OKAY ANYMORE. TIMEOUT TIMEOUT MUNA BEFORE I END THIS REACTION WAITLANG I NEED TO GRAB SOMETHING. RN.

I cant I cannot rn Im not gonna survive the next chapters

#I cant I need support physical and mental support.#yiau: reviews of readers!#ttte young iron au #cheesy/shit posts

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afreakingdork · 11 months

Note

Miss dork.

- when I first started messaging you I was always scared that I’d read into things too much and it’d be embarrassing if I was wrong-

Now I know you like “share with the class” and you set me straight if I’m wrong so-

Omg. Prodigal don flipping coin again. Strikes again! Also, Don breaking down? I was MOVED I know I predicted he’d vaporize Leo into itty bitty turtle pieces but I hope you know I’m never disappointed I just like guessing- but back on track Don breaking down- rabbit brain raccoon brain - his little check over of reader? I was calm and oh so in control until he started Checking Reader’s Feet and aaaaaaaaaa all I could think about is how a form of interrogation torture is to strike the bottom of someone’s foot (listen Bones the tv show was surprisingly educational) and I had an out loud scream over the thought of Donnie checking Reader for TORTURE- and then I had to pretend I hit MY foot on the coffee table to avoid explaining what I was wailing over-

Oh and almost forgot Leo going “they’ve got bruised knees” like. Hello. I don’t know where Don’s mind went but I know where mine did and it was a fucking nose dive if there was a moment for Leo to get vaporized it would be. Right. Then. (I told you I wouldn’t survive) Like Eugh boi to coin his phrase whole foot in mouth and chewing 😂

I did have a question because I know you visualize where everyone is in a scene-

Where was Raph in relation to Donnie during the trade off scene? Above him, behind? Was Donnie aware he was there?

And oh I love Splinter/Donnie interaction because it’s like a tennis ball court because it really highlights that reader only has bits and pieces to go off of and everyone’s reactions to each other is so interesting! I loved the diner scene!

🦝,

Yes! Yes!!! No fear!!! I'm not scary!!! (This last one isn't to you, but in general! I don't mean to be scary! I've been told the way i speak can be curt, but I really don't mean it like that. I just try to make things concise and clear) I love hearing others thoughts!!!

Saying 'share with the class' is such a great way to put it 😂

HOLY MOLY

I cannot believe we both learned that from Bones!!! You freaking nailed it, 100%!!! Truly an amazing catch, I hadn't even added that to my behind the scenes! Also,

✨Phalanges✨

YUUUUPPPPPP, the bruised knees was absolutely a double entendre. Don went there FOR SURE and that's why reader stepped in like they said they would to Raph! Leo couldn't help but still provoke Donnie in spite of himself. He can't help but be a little bit of a shithead 😂

Oh good question and another of those I had worked out, but no necessity to write. So as you now from the last chapter, 39, Raph asks “Which entrance?” after he finds that Mikey didn't come back with Leo. Leo then says “Grand.” Leo clipped. “Stand by at Black Cat and I’ll signal if it goes south.” Since we know the turts are occupying the subway, those are code names for stations. Grand is the only obvious one as Grand Central Station, a good hub for a fly guy to get a vantage point of the city. Black Cat isn't a for real reference, but instead to a comic shop so I picture this as the station the turts would go up to get their comics (I feel like Leo still reads).

tldr; the other turts were waiting at other subway stations~

Yay!! I'm so glad you liked it! I'm really enjoying playing with perception through unreliable narrator reader. Slowly, but surely they are learning more and more. I wanted it to really feel like you were in a relationship with someone. Peeling back those layers and getting closer 💞

#ask

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citrusreadstoa · 2 years

Text

Reading The Dark Prophecy: Chapter 11 (SPOILERS)

Sorry for the pause in updates. (I feel like I'm jinxing myself because every other time I say that or see someone else say that, a much longer pause in updates or an indefinite hiatus immediately follows.)

So far, Leo and Calypso feel like Disney Princesses in crossover merchandise. You know that thing where Disney Princesses aren't allowed to look each other in the eye or speak to or acknowledge each other whenever they are featured together in merchandise or media? Leo and Calypso have hardly talked to each other in the ten chapters so far. I hope it's tied into the fights they've been having so there's a canonical reason rather than just author neglect. I'm here for Caleo content! Eleven-year-old me wants to see her OTP!

Admittedly, I don't remember reading too many rocky relationships in the previous series once the couples got together, so this is getting interesting to watch. Preteen me might have to cry in the corner while I break out the popcorn, 'cause if any relationship's gonna be rocky, it's going to be the one that started as a whirlwind romance that jumped into a six-month-long action adventure starring The Guy Who Was On The Run His Whole Life and The Girl Who Hasn't Left Home In Four Thousand Years.

"Four beheaded dudes" I thought we just had the one?

"flecks of feldspar glittering like stars." FELDSPAR (n.): an abundant rock-forming mineral typically occurring as colorless or pale-colored crystals and consisting of aluminosiliactes of potassium, sodium, and calcium

"It was Trophonius. My son." Fuck. Okay, that makes sense why he'd have the gift of prophecy, probably having inherited it from Apollo. Is Brieanna his half-brother or whole brother? Imagine if you were a ghost and your dad doesn't even know you or recognize you (admittedly a difficult task without a face or a head present). Speaking of the cheese ghost, someone needs to get Nico or Hazel here to exorcise him and lay him to rest. What's he been doing hanging out in the living world all this time? Do his deeds as a ghost count when being judged in the Underworld? So many questions.

"Agamethus--Trophonius's half brother. He was no son of mine." He said that so maliciously! I'm sure it wasn't meant to come out that way, but at least we have an answer now. "The poor boy had the misfortune of being the actual offspring of King Erginus" No need to insult him like that, holy moly!

"We built the temple at Delphi." Y'all're princes and famous architects. You're doubly rich. WHY DO YOU NEED TO STEAL.

"Make sure my body can't be identified." Awwww so Trophonius didn't behead him to kill him or have any malicious intent. This is heartbreaking. "You brought this upon yourself." Tbf he did, but that's no reason to let someone else die. They both brought it upon themselves. After all, Trophonius says "we" when talking about architecture and the temple and they both are princes. Still, thievery and wasted potential are not good reasons for the death penalty.

"video clips of a bearded man with curly brown hair, perfect teeth, and brilliant blue eyes . . . Not many emperors can look imperial wearing only lion-skin swim trunks, but Commodus managed." My friend showed me Commodus's character art and lemme tell you he is HOT. No, like, seriously. I'd simp. He might be hotter than Britomartis is pretty.

"very close to threatening his nearest advisor's anatomy." threatening ___'s anatomy is a good phrase. Might borrow it in the future.

"I still found Commodus attractive after so many centuries" And you'd be right. "we had a, er, complicated history" *sigh* Add another lover to Apollo's Bad Decisions Box. Apollo's "complicated histories" seem to always involve some sort of betrayal and at least one death.

"a portly man in a crimson business suit" I wanna know who this advisor is. It would make sense for it to be Trophonius, especially with his gift of prophecy, but that doesn't sound like him. The way he's described is similar to Nero, but it's obviously not him, though we can't discount relatives. "capable servants of the Triumvirate lost a little girl." Meg or Georgina? Probably Georgina 'cause Meg wouldn't run away again so soon.

"Lord Cleander" Nvm, never heard of this guy and his name doesn't sound Greek or Roman at first glance.

"any sort of plant" Wait, it could be Meg! I wonder if she had a plan all along. It doesn't seem like it. "You let a daughter of Demeter near a plant?" Jeez, they're literally, like, everywhere. What did you expect him to do, blowtorch every inch of the sidewalk before they stepped on it? Even in the city, plants are everywhere.

"Which is all she needed to teleport away!" ...Can Meg teleport? Like Nico? Honestly still not as OP as Percy, so we're all good.

"Gods only know where she is now!" "Actually . . . I'm a god. And I have no idea." I love this guy. He has my heart and soul and he has spoken nine (9) words so far.

"If she reaches Indianapolis" Are they not in Indianapolis? Are they maybe on the outskirts around where the caves are, then?

"And you're boring me . . . which is punishable by death." Okay, maybe Trophonius and Brieanna's thievery was a more severe crime by ancient standards. If this is what Cleander and Commodus are like, I truly wonder how Cleander has stayed alive so long. He isn't the most entertaining fella. "Do it, then." Oh, I guess we have our answer. He isn't lasting long at all.

"That was very entertaining, Lityerses!" LITYERSES! Midas's kid! I saw character art of him after reading The Lost Hero and I was like, Why does he have character art? He was there for less than a chapter??? So I figured he must be in TOA somehow and HERE HE IS MY BOYYYY.

"Manage all that for me, and I won't kill you. Fair?" Some pay would be nice.

"Unless you want to wait around here for morning chores." Now that's a threat that will get him moving.

I just realized the four beheaded dudes are the combo of Brieanna, Lord Cleander (Does that mean Lityerses has been promoted to Lord Lityerses?), Marcus, and Vortigern. An uncanny amount of beheaded people in one chapter. New record.

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sunmoonjune · 2 years

Note

so i'm here because my review would have been too long in the comments.

OKAY here we go.

so chapter 11 of like the moon had me in tears. i said that before already but anyways, holy moly your writing is just perfect. that part where she said that ateez had candles and how their fire was bringing light into her life, then her saying that wooyoung would be part of that soon 😭 i cannot wait to read that part when it comes. WHEN SHE ASKED FOR SAN TO COME WITH THEM PLSSS MY HEART 🫠 plus ateez being so considerate and understanding of her and not wanting to push her to do things she wasn't comfortable with! i mean, that's basic manners but her old clan was so inhumane that she didn't think she deserved how they were treating her 😭 but ateez, they're so sweet and patient and protective! she deserves the way she's being treated by them and so much more, they all do.

PROTECTIVE!! the way they kept her in the middle so she was guarded and her admitting to herself that she felt safe. SAFE WITH THEM 😭 also lemme at those old clan members of hers, lemme just make them all pay pls 🙏

don't even get me started when sh*t started to go down. THE WAY SHE JUST FIT SO PERFECTLY WITH THEM WHEN THEY WERE FIGHTING TOGETHER 🤧 and when san got hurt, she literally killed the dude responsible without batting an eye??? that was so cool of her 😌

but san got hurt! and now she's spiraling and blaming herself again and she ran away and my heart hurts bc i just want to hug and reassure her that it was no one's fault but her old clan 😠

wooyoung 👀👀 you saw what happened with her and what she did at the end, what are you gonna do about it???

thank you for another amazing chapter!! even though you hurt my heart with it

omfg this comment <333 my heart <333

when I was writing the part with the matches I had sad music in the background and I literally made myself cry :')) like there were literally multiple times I had to step away cause I was just weeping xD also the past with yeosang in chapter ten!! I had that 'what it feels like to fall in love' playlist going and I just sat there like happy crying - I don't think I've ever been so emotional attached to my own writing before ;.;

and yes!! ateez has lots of experience with trauma so they're so patient with bug and her progress :)) it may be the bare minimum to be patient like that but it means so much to her D':

yes yes!! protective ateez!! they were so ready to fight for her and keep her safe! they immediately moved to put the reader between them and she felt so safe and she didn't even know 3:

sannie :(((( one of the absolute loves of my life and I've injured him D: bug was running on pure instinct when she threw that sword - no thoughts other than killing the guy who hurt her san :') but now she's spiraling :(((

but wooyoung ;)))) wooyoung my love ;DDDD I wonder...

heheh I'm so so glad you enjoyed the new chapters lovely!! thank you so much for leaving showing so much love for them <33 the comments and everything literally had me kicking my feet when I woke up and read them all xD

#moonie speaks #like the moon #this ask <333333 #you have my heart lovely

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casspurrjoybell-20 · 2 months

Text

FOOLS - Chapter 17 - Part 1

BOOK ONE: The 'Fools Fall in Love' Trilogy

*Warning - Adult Content*

Samuel Moretti

My date with Ben was actually more fun than I expected.

He's funny, attractive and definitely a gentleman.

He'd open doors for me, he paid for everything.

Who know chivalry was still a thing?

But one thing that bothered me that I wished didn't, Ben was too polite.

That sounded horrible but it was the truth.

I would make a joke and 'okay maybe it was an insensitive joke' while we were playing mini golf, I was also people watching as I like to do and a really dumb joke came out of my mouth.

"Milf, two o'clock," I nodded to the direction of the objectively attractive 40 year old looking woman with her, presumably, three kids.

"Milf?" Ben questioned with no hint of amusement.

'Oh, God. Why did I say that?' I thought, then of course my stupid nervous laugh came through as I said...

"It was just a dumb joke."

"Oh," but he didn't find it funny.

"Yeah, um... hole nine?" I offered, trying to wash away the awkwardness.

So, yeah, no inappropriate jokes around Ben, I had discovered and another problem besides his inability to take a joke, the entire night, I was comparing Ben to Noah in my head.

I had this great guy by my side and I kept thinking about Noah.

That was unfair to Ben.

He deserved someone who was all in.

Someone who reciprocated his feelings.

So after tonight, I was going to tell him I just wanted to be friends.

After mini golf, Ben bought me ice cream.

We sat inside of a cute little ice cream parlor called Sprinkles.

"You never told me you were a master at mini golf," I said incredulously once we took our seats after receiving our desserts.

Ben won by a landslide, while the term hole-in-one was still trying to process in my brain.

Ben shrugged, hiding a smile.

"I may or may not play golf with my grandpa every Sunday."

"Oh I see, so you purposely brought me somewhere where you knew you'd win?" I teased.

"With the minimal to no talents I do have, I had to impress you somehow."

I laughed at that.

Well, mission accomplished. I am impressed."

"Good," he chuckled the ate a heaping scoop of his Cookies and Cream ice cream.

I wracked my brain for something else to talk about.

That was why I hated and loved first dates.

I loved them because it could turn out amazing and I could end the night with a boyfriend but I also hated first dates because of this, awkward silence when a new topic failed to appear in my brain.

If this was mine and Noah's first date, there would never be an awkward moment.

We could talk to each other for hours.

'Stop it, Sam, you're on a date with Ben, not Noah.'

"So..." I started.

"I don't really know too much about you besides that you are amazing at mini golf and in most honor classes. Do you... play an instrument? In art?"

"I don't play an instrument but I am in ceramics club," he had told me almost embarrassingly.

"Like making stuff with clay?" I asked.

When it came to art, I knew nothing about it.

Well, I could probably tell you the primary and secondary colors but that was about it.

"Yeah," he nodded.

"I actually just recently finished a sculpture."

He pulled out his cell-phone and after a moment of going through it, he faced his cell-phone at me with a picture of his latest art project and holy-moly was it amazing.

"Oh my goodness, you made that?" I asked awestruck.

The sculpture was of a monster, except the monster was made of leaves.

Everything was made completely out of clay.

There was all different types of leaves.

It was at least ten inches tall and beautifully crafted.

Not a single leaf was left without detail.

I looked up at Ben.

"Ben, that is amazing."

He shrugged.

"You should see the others."

I rolled my eyes and playfully pushed his arm.

"Oh hush up, you're just being modest."

He chuckled, with a tint of blush on his cheeks.

"Hey, so I definitely don't want this night to end."

I smiled at that as he asked me,

"Would you want to finish the night with a movie? Or is going to your work not something you'd want to do?"

"I love movies, so as long as I'm not working, that sounds great."

Then I thought of an idea.

"There's a private theater room I could get us in."

"Hmm, private? Sounds perfect."

But little did I know, that was a horrible idea because when Ben and I entered the movie theater, the last person I wanted to see and yet, the only person I hoped to see was there.

Noah was hanging out by the register with Jason while Emily was working.

My heart rate picked up and I swear I was already sweating.

'Gah. Why was I so nervous?'

I felt guilty for being with Ben which was ridiculous.

"Hey guys," I greeted them, and when I glanced at Noah, he had a scowl on his face, not looking at us.

Emily and Jason greeted us, Noah did not as he leaned against the wall next to the popcorn popper.

Arms crossed over his chest.

"How's your date going?" Jason asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Really well," Ben claimed as he took my hand in his. I smiled up at Ben. He was two inches taller than me.

"I fucking bet," Noah muttered and when I looked at him he was rolling his eyes.

What the heck?

"Anyway," Emily chirped, ignoring Noah's rude comment.

"What movie?"

"Uh."

'God, why was Noah there?'

"I think we decided on..." I looked at Ben for the answer.

"That new horror film? Watch Your Back, I think is the name."

Noah laughed but it was scornful.

"Good luck with that one. Sam hates horror movies."

'What the hell, Noah?'

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sunofpandora · 6 months

Text

Virago: Chapter 3 part 3

Neteyam x fem na’vi!omaticaya!reader

Characters:

Ka’lik- (like you would pronounce “Malik”) Y/n’s father, deceased, a warrior and hunter of the

omaticaya clan. A teacher to young warriors undergoing iknimaya.

Zensira-deceased, Y/n’s mother, spider's adoptive mother, a strong hunter and the best singer in the omaticaya clan, and a teacher to young hunters.

Kailo-(Y/n’s ikran. Your ikran is a male)

Popiti-(tuk’s best friend according to the visual dictionary)

(Also idk how many of you know this but Jake’s ikran’s name is canonically ‘Bob’.)

(WARNINGS!

Sharing a sleeping hammock with the opposite gender (non-romantically)-

Chapter desc:

Authors note:

IMPORTANT:

hi guys. So I’ve decided to change spiders age from 20 to 19 for plot purposes. Jake and Neytiri are the same age. Tuk is still 7. Kiri is 19, neteyam is 19, Lo’ak and Y/n are 18.

Important!

This is part 3, the final part to chapter 3. Thank you for your patience!

V I R A G O

Chapter 3;

Surrender to his saubade, he has set his soul and sin ablaze (to be yours)

Part 3 (final part to chapter 3)

Y/n’s pov-

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

(Still Neteyams POV)

Night hunts were a normality for our clan. Especially the ones led by my father.

I stood in the tent, slipping on my arm guards as I prepared myself to join my group on our ikran for the hunt.

I started Mentally checking off everything I needed.

Water flask, ionar (riders mask.), and-

I just can’t seem to focus.

All I can think about is y/n and how I’m going to speak to her after this hunt.

Kiri is right. I don’t deserve her. And maybe I never will.

I especially don’t deserve to call her mine.

And that’s okay. I can settle for just having her in my life. That’s enough.

But that’s a lie. I know it deep down.

It was never about sex or the physicality of it. I could love her my whole life and never touch her.

Would I go insane? Probably.

But could I do it? Definitely.

Settling for distance is my sacrifice. Distance is safe. Distance will keep her safe. It’ll keep me sane.

Well, that last part was a lie.

It’s a glass half full at this point. I told Kiri I only wanted us to be friends again. Normal, average friends.

That’s not what I want. I can keep trying to compartmentalize this for the rest of my life but I’ll always live with this ache. This void in my heart that only fits her shape.

Sacrifices. Sacrifices. Sacrifice-

“Neteyam?”

I snap out of my daze; turning around to see my mother standing in the entrance way to our hut.

“Are you ready yet, ma’itan?

Lo’ak waits outside for you.”

I shook my head, chuckling awkwardly.

“Ah. Sorry. I got a bit…distracted.

It’s nothing, mother. I’ll be out in just a moment.”

She nods, taking a step closer.

“I wanted to give you something before you leave.”

I turn to face her, my eyebrows raised a bit.

“Oh? Alright.”

She reached behind her back, holding out a small pouch, long and thin tied by a string in a roll.

I open it slowly, knowing whatever was inside was of great value.

Inside laid about 8 newly made arrows. The wood carved for the shaft still fresh in scent and the feathers for the fletching too soft to have been reused.

It’s the color that peaks my eye. The all-too familiar green and yellow shades.

“Your arrows?”

She nods, a look that can only be described as prideful as she gazes at me.

“I want you to use them tonight.”

I shake my head. This was too much of a gesture. I haven’t done anything to deserve.

“Mother, they are beautiful. But I cannot-“

“Ma’itan.”

She cuts me off. Her tone devoid of any hostility or impatience.

“I was thinking about our talk the other night. About your father, and how he is harsh sometimes.

You know well by now what you are. Who and where you come from. You are your fathers son. You have his strength. You carry yourself much like he did in his days of battle. and you must understand that scares him.”

I’m quiet as her words sink in. She places a hand on my shoulder. Her eyes of a golden hue that mirror my own.

“He is not ready to see his son fight his battles or wear his colors. Your father has his own shadows he has yet to face. If you cannot yet wear his colors..I want you to wear mine.”

She places the arrows in my hands, and I’m speechless.

She gently cups my face, her palm sliding down to my shoulder once again.

“You may use his weapons. You may speak his language. And you have grown up with his sky people ways.

But never forget, blood of the real warriors comes from us.”

She places two fingers atop her chest, right over her heart.

It breaks my soul to remember that one of my mother’s greatest fears is that we will forget the ways of a na’vi. That even the minimal amount of tech we use in our family circle, with the exception of my fathers gun, seems to threaten everything she knows.

I’m taller than my mother now. Only by a few inches. So I lean down when I go to hug her.

“Irayo, Sa’nok.”

(‘Thank you, mother.’)

I pull back, smiling at her.

“I hope with these, the winds of our ancestors fly with me tonight.”

She chuckles, taking a step back.

“They are with you. Always. No matter where you go. No matter where you are.”

There’s a comfortable silence before my mother sighs, and I put the arrows in the leather pouch that is attached to my ikran saddle for hunting.

“You should go. Your father is waiting with the others.”

I nod, putting on my ionar and finishing slipping on my arm guards.

I lean down, fastening the straps to my leg guards as well before grabbing the small satchel and making my way off.

“Neteyam- one last thing?”

I turn the moment my mothers voice reached my ears.

“Here.” She spoke softly.

I turn to see my mother holding up my beaded choker. The one worn by so many generations of warriors in our clan. I took it off a few days ago when Tuk wanted to re-braid my hair. last time, she kept getting my hair tangled with the clasp at the back of the necklace.

“Let me.”

Without another word, she turns me around by the shoulders, brushing my braids out of the way as she slips the necklace on me, tying the clasp properly to ensure it doesn’t fall while hunting.

She struggles for a moment, having to crane her neck to see properly.

“Curse you and your height.” She mumbles, and I can’t help but laugh.

Once she finishes, I kiss her on the cheek before speeding off.

I jog across the pathway, slinging my bow over my shoulder. The thick air of high camp resonating and weaving through the sounds of distant conversations and laughter.

I finally spot Lo’ak and Spider. Lo’ak stands with his bow around his torso, the string brushing his chest. Spider carries a basket of the arrows he and lo’ak made for y/n.

I pinch the back of lo’aks neck before slinging my arm around him.

“Ready for the hunt, baby bro?”

He hissed at me, shoving me away.

“This is bullshit. I fluke once. ONCE. And now dad won’t even let me fly my ikran for the hunt!”

Spider shrugs, as the three of us start walking to the large crevice cutting into the mountains of high camp, making a large entrance way and a stable spot to land and saddle up ikrans for coming or going.

“Look on the bright side. At least you get to go. Plus you’ll be with the direhorse squad with Norm.”

He pushes Lo’ak lightly to walk a bit faster.

Lo’ak grumbled something and speed-walked ahead of us.

Spider sets the basket down once we meet the meeting spot. The same place the clans war and hunting parties gather before a raid

Or a hunt.

Some other hunters start to swarm in. Carrying bows and arrows of their own, all talking amgonst one another.

Spider groans.

“Lo’ak. Look.”

He taps Lo’ak’s arm, not-so-subtly gesturing to Makeyo standing across from us, speaking with one of the other hunters.

Lo’ak fake gags, Spider glares and the both of them stare him down for a good 7 seconds.

An odd feeling settles itself in the more unwelcoming corners of my heart.

Like fingers trying to pry their way through a barrier.

Something tenses in me as I find myself staring at him too. Remembering how y/n spoke of him at dinner.

Makeyo a bit shorter than me. Only by a few inches. My hair is longer, his braids reaches his shoulders. Still taller than y/n though.

It’s only when I hear spider whispering I snap back to reality.

“Oh fuck. He’s coming over here. Don't make eye contact. Don’t make eye contact.”

Spider stares up, whistling as he shoves his hands behind him, leaning on a rock. Lo’ak fidgets with one of the arrows, both of them over exaggeratedly feigning to ignore Makeyo’s approaching figure.

He smiles at me, greeting us with an unhesitatingly proper formality.

“Neteyam. Lo’ak,”

He pauses for a moment, having to avert his eyes downward to notice spider.

“Ah, and..”

He struggles for a moment to recall spider’s name. Spider can only glare at the taller na’vi that somehow appeared even more intolerably annoying when he was being kind.

“Spider.” Spider mumbles, crossing his arms.

“Y/n’s brother.” I add, stepping in front of spider to try and distract Makeyo from the smaller human that looked like he was plotting a murder.

Makeyo nodded in recognition, smiling softly.

“Right. I assume y/n will be leading us tonight? As usual. She’s your fathers right hand man.”

“Woman.” I correct, with an unintentional edge delineating my tone. An almost crude enunciation of the word finds itself leaving my lips, making Makeyo still for a moment before chuckling.

“Of course. And what a woman she is..”

When did his face become so punchable?

Makeyo is someone that makes himself very difficult to hate.

Helpful, kind, smart, good with kids, the whole ordeal.

But I am no foreigner to a mask. Why? Because I wear one every single day of my life. Sometimes I wonder what Makeyo’s mask looks like. Or if he even wears a mask at all. Forever yearning to grasp such a thing that always seemed to evade you.

I bite my lip, my jaw tensing as my eyes graze over the expanse of his figure. Up then down.

Makeyo falters for a moment, but proceeds with an unhesitatingly sweetened glean in his eye.

“What I mean is, she is just amazing. Well, I don’t need to tell you that, of course. You’ve practically grown up with her.”

Something about the way he so shamelessly displays his simpering delusions of innocence in the form of this crush he has on y/n-

For lack of a better word, is really starting to piss me off. His bold assumptions of platonic love between me and y/n makes my tail flick.

And no, I’m not jealous. I’m not. Really. Yes, I am capable of violent impulses and of course, I do fantasize about punching his face every now and then, but that’s not jealousy. Is it? No. Of course it’s not.

Yeah, maybe I slightly envy the fact that he can love her so freely.

The way he could stand where he couldn’t see and hold her hand, unbothered by the absence of sunlight to compulsively provide promises of safety and sanctuary. Maybe I hate that he is unburdened by the weighted whispers of the elders and third eyes peskily pruning gazes at holding her hand. Maybe I hate that he spends almost all day with her. Watching her laugh, and interact so perfectly with the children of the clan.

Maybe I hated the way he had no history with her that resonates with soured feelings and broken promises. I envied his clean conscience.

But that’s not jealousy…of course not.

He’s called away to assist with some other task, and when I turn around Lo’ak and spider are quickly jogging in the opposite direction, towards the edge where an familiar red, purple, and blue ikran perches, with an even more familiar rider on his back.

Y/n smirks as she hops off of Kailo, the creature releasing an almost purr-like shrill as it rubs its chin against y/n’s cheek.

She chuckles, small luminous sparks leaking through the tops of the rocky stronghold flirting with her pulchritudinous smile.

She hums, gently petting the banshee’s neck.

“Mawey, pretty boy.”

I don’t really know why, but ‘pretty boy’ had an odd way of making my chest flutter. Even if I knew she was talking to her ikran.

She flips her braids over her shoulders. Y/n as always had a bit of a more effete-feel to her wardrobe. That of a warrior, of course. The strongly woven arm guards and her beaded cuff to tie her hair back when she flew, or hunted, always easily annoyed with her braids falling in her face.

The waist beads she wore, which were usually made by Kiri or my mother, were always a signature habit to herself.

She had quite a few scars, blemishes, and bruises that canvassed her skin. I find them beautiful. Like the patterns of the universe printed onto her skin.

Spider and Lo’ak fake saluted as y/n made her way towards them.

“Y/n, ma’am.”

Spider tipped his head ever so slightly, Lo’ak dramatically bowing, making her roll her eyes and laugh.

“At ease, boys.”

Lo’ak stands up straight again, slinging an arm around her shoulder and gesturing to spider.

“We made you something.”

Spider proudly holds up their basket of arrows.

There’s something indescribably tantalizing about the way she smiled at those two.

“Aw guys, you shouldn’t have..”

Spider scoffed, placing his hands on his waist.

“Please. It was our pleasure to assist the mighty archer.”

It’s a moment later when spider and Lo’ak run off to help norm, and I stand quietly behind y/n as she places the new arrows in her side saddle along with her bow.

“I’m assuming you were on babysitting duty? Supervising those two with the fire pit and sharp edges?”

She teased, nudging my shoulder. I chuckle back, shrugging.

“Of course. Someone has to prevent the children from running with their hunting knives.”

She shakes her head, another giggle tumbling past her lips.

“Tuk? Or Lo’ak and spider?”

I hum before leaning over a bit to stand a bit closer.

“Why not all of them?”

She laughs once again, and my palms feel warm for a moment.

I clear my throat, straightening my back a bit.

“Y/n. Can We talk abou-”

“Alright people let's get moving! Fall in and line up!”

I’m cut off by the sudden cannonade of my father’s voice. Y/n’s eyes widen a bit as it flickers to where he stood. Talking with uncle norm. She glances back at me, patting my back. “Later. Okay?”

I can’t even respond before she jogs over to my father, only stopping her dauntless strides when she pauses to fist-bump norm.

I follow suit with the other hunters in an almost feverish manner. Slinging my bow around my torso and finding a spot in the forming two long lines of other hunters and warriors beside Lo’ak.

“Let's move it people! We’re wasting the sunset! Oscar-Mike (move out), people, lets get it done!”

When the last few of the younger hunters scurry into line, my father stands tall in front of all of us, his arms crossed over his chest. Don’t be fooled by the brute build. He’s still the same man who stumbled into hometree all those years ago with a ‘good evening everyone’ and a ‘please don’t get up’.

He clears his throat bef0re he starts to speak.

“Good to see everyone turn up for tonight's hunt. This will be no different from training you’ve all had in the past, or currently undergoing.”

Some nod, others shift nervously on their feet.

Y/n approaches from behind my father. Her strides not faltering for even a second. Her chin titled high, looking us over with a gaze of a storm flooded a seafloor beneath a tideline. Y/n doesn’t get in line with us, no. Her place is beside my father. A leader.

spider perched behind her on one of the high ledges in the unevenly rocky stone walls of highcamp. One of his hands placed on her shoulder to keep himself from leaning forward too far.

My father continues.

“For those of you still training for your iknimiya, you will be on the ground team with Norm, and Awkey and the Olangi hunters will join us tonight. Stay in line with them. You will ride the pa’li on the perimeter of that narrow clearing in the middle of the grove. Understood?”

A few yips and grunts were heard from the younger na’vi, a few raising their bows and nodding their heads.

Father nods, turning back to face us again.

“Warriors. Those of you who have passed iknimiya and have ikrans will be in the sky. Bows on the ready, death from above.”

He takes a step back, gesturing to Y/n, who still stood in her place behind him.

“Y/n, my most trusted Archer, will be in command of the sky team. You are to stay within her flight patterns, and not go beyond what she sees as a fit perimeter. Follow her orders, and you might just learn something.”

Father finishes giving us our positions, and I stray from my assigned group, only for a moment. I walk towards the opening to the crevice, leaning down and making the bird call my mother taught me, pressing my lips together and releasing a high-pitched note of a sound.

The familiar flap of wings resonates in the air below me, and before I can blink, my ikran perches herself infront of me, making a soft shrill noise of her own. In all her glory, the green, brown, and yellow skin worn like a Hyde of the forest.

I pet her neck, adjusting the side saddle for my bow and tightening the neck reigns.

Rey’sa is what I named her.

Broken fragments of my mothers language stitched together. The meaning is a remembrance of Seze. My mothers first ikran. I had a toy ikran that was painted green, brown and blue, when I was around Tuk’s age. Y/n’s mother had gifted it to me when I was 7. Modeled after Seze even in color, my mother happily shed tears at the sight of the small wooden toy.

It’s been passed down. Me and Kiri played with it, then Lo’ak, then Tuk.

The toy is old and cracking now, the paint peeling away. I think love is holding it together. Tuk sleeps with the thing every night. I can’t imagine it’s very comfortable, though.

My iknimaya dodged the fateful curse of a chaotic, violence-craving ikran.

I’ve watched my brother and y/n almost die during their right of passage. Meanwhile, Rey’sa bucked me off maybe twice and it was over. Made the bond, had our first flight, the whole works.

I pet her neck, smoothing my palms over the leather skin one last time before I mount. My leg swinging over as I adjust the inner part of my thighs against the saddle.

I wait for my fathers signal.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n’s pov:

Neytiri hated when Norm and Max joined the hunt. Or any hunt for that matter. Hunting was a sacred practice to na’vi. To take a life in such a delicate way it’s almost painless. She didn’t want the sky people’s ways to taint such a delicate tradition.

You walk over to where Norm and Max were packing some extra radios in the Samson seat packs, Norm checking all the controls as he whistled a tune to himself.

When you approach, his ears perk up, and he smiles. His usual tan colored vest and shorts fashioned securely to his avatar body.

“Hey kiddo.”

He gives you a hug, ruffling a few of your braids. Mex sits behind him, sitting on the benched ledge of the side entrance to the aircraft, giving you a thumbs up and a soft smile.

Norm sighs, taking a step back, his hands on his hips as he looks you over.

“Look at you. Growing into a brave warrior. Seems like only yesterday and you and spider were running around the lab.”

Norm and Max had been like family to you. Especially with your parents always accounting for Spider, they didn’t completely understand how to raise a human boy, so Norm and Max were always there with extra breathing packs and masks. Plus, being a package deal with spider meant you hung out in the lab just as much as he did when you were little. Poking around at all the link beds and making norm play your stupid little games of tag, even pestering max. Sometimes, Max would let you use his glasses to look at different plants and leaves, because you loved the way things looked under the glass.

And sure, some na’vi mothers and fathers couldn’t possibly comprehend why such intelligent, well respected clan members like your parents would leave their daughter under the watch of two sky people. But it didn’t matter. Max and Norm fared well as babysitters.

You smiled at Norm, a small laugh leaving you.

“Well. Seems like your joining us on another hunt?”

Norm nods, adjusting the radio on his hip.

“Yup. I keep telling Jake the misses’ ain’t gonna be happy with us tagging along, but he says it’s for Safety. If anything goes wrong, if RDA wants to show up for another playdate.”

You nod, thinking about the attack awhile ago.

Your attention rechannels itself towards the smaller pale creature that emerges from behind a much taller Norm in his avatar body.

Spider blinks up at you through the sheet of glass that has acted as a blockade between you both ever since you were 2. Protecting him from the unwelcoming atmosphere of Pandora.

“Y/n.”

He huffs.

“Please inform Norm here that I’m old enough to drive the Samson.”

Max scoffed.

“It’s not about age, Junior. It’s about training.”

Spider rolls his eyes, gesturing to you with over dramatic movements.

“I’m 19. I’m too old to be hitching rides on my little sister's Ikran.”

Norm shrugged.

“Fine. You can start riding with me and Maya.”

Maya was Norm’s ikran. He told you it was named after someone from the past. Back in the first war.

Her name is Trudy. Jake told you that you reminded him of her sometimes. Same attitude and rebellious spirit. She piloted a Samson 16, and always called it ‘Maya.’ You admired that he named his own set of wings after someone’s dream of flying.

Spider shook his head.

“Or, let me at least have my own avatar. So I can pass Iknimaya, and get my own ikran!”

Norm nods, a sudden wave of enthusiasm. “Sure junior. Just put 40 million on the table and i’ll have your order ready in the next..hm..12 years?”

Spider groans, rolling his eyes.

You laugh at Norm’s sarcasm. Though, a part of you really did feel bad for Spider.

Norm and Max were called over to talk with Jake one last time before the group descended, leaving you and spider alone.

You sat next to Spider on the step up to the cockpit, rubbing his back.

“You know I love you no matter what size you are, right?”

Spider scoffs, his head tilting the opposite way.

“Gee. thanks.”

You chuckled, and he spared you a small smile.

He sighed, staring out at the na’vi hunters and warriors that mounted their ikrans, preparing to descend.

You could never imagine what it was like for Spider. Being born a human on a planet he couldn’t even breathe freely on.

Ideals formed under disillusion. The little, messy-loc’d pale boy you’d help paint blue as a child is no longer shielded from the pesky whispers and glares of your clan.

You don’t think its fair. You never did. And you even found it a bit hypocritical. Considering your clan’s never ending preachings for the value of nature, balance, and adaptation.

Spider has adapted to be just like your people. And he’s done a pretty fucking good job.

Your moment is interrupted by Norm, who jogs back with Max trailing behind him.

“We’re moving out! Y/n, you’re needed in the front. Spider, lets get moving!”

You nod, grabbing your bow and giving one last small glance to spider.

He smiles.

“Be safe. Please.”

You scoff.

“I’m always safe.”

With that, you mounted Kailo, and took to the skies.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n’s pov

The wind whipped and wailed. The familiar sting of raw current against your cheeks was oddly soothing. Your team flew behind you. Neteyam, Makeyo, a few others. Jake next to you, and Awkey below. The smaller group of Pa’li hunters maintain obedience in formation as the maddening rhythms of horse hooves assault the ground beneath you. The half-finished notes demand attention through the heavy thrumming melody.

“X, do you read me?”

Jake’s voice comes through your throat comm with a static quality. Struggling to maintain volume against the violent symphonies that crowded the night air.

You place two fingers on your comm, allowing your voice to cut through the mic.

“I read you.”

“Norm’s radars are picking up some heavy movement to the east. Take your squad and dive on down. I’ll catch up.”

“Roger that.”

You lift your bow, turning your head over your shoulder. Sending a call to your team, you start to dive further down beneath the canopy. They don’t hesitate to follow you, some even going as far to mimic your dive move.

You don’t have any words for what you see below on the muddied path.

You’ve been sturmbeest hunting before. Many times. But this..This was something you only imagined.

Sturmbeest in the most intense stampede imaginable, some even tripping and folding over one another. There doesn't seem to be even the smallest amount of space between them as they charge.

You made a signal for your team to disperse, some falling behind you or to the left side of the perimeter, keeping a close trail with the pa’li hunters. You saw lo’ak behind Awkey as he led them further down the sidelines. He looks just as shocked as you are.

Jake arrived on the scene not soon after.

His voice broke through your comm again, this time connecting Neteyam.

“X. stay front and center. Makeyo and Pathfinder are gonna spot you from the right. Try and find some targets. The rest of your team are far out behind.”

Minutes had passed, and you had watched the pa’li hunters desperately try to squeeze their way into the flow of traffic.

You watched a good portion of the hunters attempt at shooting one of the sturmbeest on horseback using their bow, only for the arrow to bounce off the rough exterior of the skin.

You watched a few of them collapse in a pile of chaos. 5 of them using spears only to get rammed down by a new group of the mud-covered giants, thrown with their pa’li into the dirt. The sight made you wince. Every fiber of your being just screaming for you to dive down there and help.

“Fuck it.”

You mumbled under your breath, preparing kailo to dive.

“Don’t even think about it.” Jake calls out to you.

You turn to see him, weaving through the trees on bob.

You shake your head, your long braids wildly whipping in the wind.

“Sir, we have too many hunters riding pa'li down. If we just sent support to the ground level we’d make a kill!”

Jake shook his head. “Forget it, X. Your job right now is to keep your squad in line. If you dive, you run the risk of all of them diving down after you. You say up, they say how high. You gotta keep yourself steady, kiddo.”

You hiss to yourself, your ikran feeling mutual frustration as a shrill escapes your companion.

Neteyam flies ahead with you, his bow at the ready on his side.

“Any openings?” he calls to you, and you only shake your head.

“None that don’t look risky.”

Neteyam nods, his eyes scanning the path.

“Let's get a bit closer. We can scout better angles from below.” he offers.

It wasn’t a terrible idea. You looked to your side, your eyes locking with Neteyam’s. Flames that weren’t quite worthy of being threatening engulfed a jaded voice under your chest. Promises of sunlight and safety that were agonizingly familiar shade of olive green and bright yellow. The same sounds of a bird thrashing in a cage. Exhausted and rough, and yet, there was trust beneath the surface. Like jumping off a cliff and knowing something will catch you.

He nods at you.

“I’ll be right behind you, X.”

You grab your bow and dive, Neteyam follows your lead.

You cruise above the chaos, mud flying in damp specks, your vision is clouded by dust and overbearing sensations.

Neteyam is beside you, and you can feel his gaze shifting between you and the path below in a predictable pattern.

Your eyes focus on a small rift forming in the middle of the stampede. Like a crack in the mountain. An open space where single beasts drifted in and out of a bare area.

Maybe small spaces still managed to infatuate you.

Your eyes locked onto one sturmbeest that took its turn in the middle. You reached for an arrow, pulling back the string of your bow. The familiar satisfying stretch felt beneath your finger tips as neteyam spotted you from beside, tilting himself down along with you.

You quickly devised a plan. A blockade of sorts could be created. If you shot down at least two of the biggest sturmbest, the rest would slow down because of the largest creatures stumbling about.

You traded in your singular arrow for two of your own, resuming your position as you pulled back your arrows.

Neteyam seemed to understand your plan, grabbing an arrow of his own.

You both nodded at each other, a mutual procedure seemingly placed into action.

“Ready whenever you are, X. I’m under your order.”

Neteyam’s voice sent a cold sensation down your spine. Something about obedience..The willingness to follow your every move.

You both released your arrows, one of your arrows hitting the exact same spot as his in one of the largest sturmbeest, your other arrow landing solo in the other.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion. The two beasts stumbled into the mud, causing the other sturmbeest to disperse into a wider path. Creating more room for targets.

Neteyam let out a celebratory war call, following your lead as you and Kailo flew up, circling Reysa and Neteyam.

“Hell yeah!”

You screeched.

“Hell Yeah!”

Neteyam mimicked you, his accented voice sounding funny on the human term spider taught you.

You both laughed, circling each other on your ikrans as the wind caught your hair.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as you both caught each other's gazes.

But it didn’t last for long.

“Y/n!”

Lo’ak’s voice screeched through the static of your throat comm, causing you and Neteyam to pause.

You placed two fingers on your throat comm, tuning into lo’ak’s distressed call.

“I’m here. what’s happening?”

“It’s spider! The Samson is dragging too close to the sturmbeest, its looking dangerously close to a collision. Dad’s comm isn’t going through and neither is norm’s! You have to get through to them!”

Your heart thrashed itself into an unyielding rhythm of uncertainty.

You don’t even answer Lo’ak. You dive back down, ignoring the calls of your name leaving Neteyam.

You finally find yourself parallel to the Samson, that, quite literally as Lo’ak described, was dragging through the air, the usual smooth running ship making unusual sounds as norm seemed to struggle along with a concerned max on the controls. A malfunction maybe? Eywa. Why now?!

You yelled to catch spiders attention, he jumped out of his seat and leaned on the edge of the side door that was now wide open, hanging out with only his arm holding him up as he gripped a bar.

“Tell Norm and Max to go up!”

You screamed, desperately making hand motions.

Spider couldn’t hear you. He leaned a bit closer to hear when suddenly the Samson dips down further, a sturmbeest bucks upwards.

Your heart seemed to completely cease beating for a moment.

You didn’t see what happened. All you knew is that when you looked back at the ship, spider was gone. The panic that sets in was enough to smother your vision in an unfamiliar color you couldn’t quite place. Panic rushed through you in bolts as all you could think of is the possibility of your brother being dead. The boy you carried around on your back for so many years. The boy who protected you from all the creepy boys in the clan. The boy who let you scream and cry and vent after Neteyam broke your heart.

A small whimper left your lips, and you can’t really tell if you’re crying or not.

The world around you seemed almost in a reflective like manner, as If kept in a kaleidoscope or a dome.

You dive down desperately, screaming for him, your voice tearing through the wind.

Neteyam dives down after you, cursing to himself and calling for spider as well.

The world around you seems to blur when you catch sight of a smaller pale creature sprawled out on the ground, unconscious.

You dive down, scooping him up by the waist and throwing him on the back of your ikran, one hand struggling to steer as another hand keeps spider slumped against your back, stretched behind you.

Lo’ak is below you, following you on the back of his pa’li.

You land a bit farther from the path in the forest, jumping off your ikran with jagged, uneven breaths as you laid spider on the grass with scrambling hands.

You freeze when you see the twitching of his hands, and the small crack in his mask.

And all you can think about is how if you lost spider, you really did have no family left.

“No, no no no no no please-“

You whispered, not knowing what to do or how to fix this.

Do you take it off? Leave it?

You resort to placing your hand over the crack, thinking maybe it’ll keep more air from slipping inside.

Your vision starts to blur with tears. And just when you place your palm atop the glass, you feel a jolt of pain rush through your wrist.

The pressure you applied had cracked the mask even more, and now tiny shards of glass had covered your palm.

You didn’t feel the pain. Not at first. But then, like the bitch it was, adrenaline was starting to abandon you.

Lo’ak hops off his pa’li and runs towards you, leaning down.

“Shit! Spider!”

He looks at you.

“What happened? What- how-“

Tears streamed down your cheeks. And Lo’ak stared for a moment as one of the strongest people he knew was crying right in front of him.

“H-he fell- I don’t-“

Your breathing becomes uneven.

Behind you you see Jake and Neteyam both land their ikrans, the Samson landing behind them a bit in the distance as norm runs carrying a first aid kit.

The air around you thieves you of oxygen as your chest becomes heavy.

Strong arms wrap around your waist, gently pulling you to your feet as your turned around and met with Neteyams golden hour eyes, his palms softly dragging down your cheeks to your collarbones,

“Hey-hey look at me. Are you hurt?”

You try to speak but the air in your lungs is swallowed instead, and you gasp.

“S-spider.”

He turns you the opposite way, shaking his head.

“Don’t look at that right now. Look at me. Just keep your eyes right here. I’m right here. Y/n.”

He looks you over, and freezes when his eyes settle on your palm.

“Shit. Your hand-“

You look down, seeing the thin trail of warm red liquid that dripped down your fingertips.

You felt like a faceless phantom in a hollow shell of a wreckage you called your body. Watching the world spin by as you remained trapped in your bird cage of broken wing bones.

You watched as Norm quickly replaced spider mask, his chest rising up and back down again like an ocean being suppressed under a sheet of glass.

You almost release yet another sob when spider regains consciousness. His eyes blowing wide like a shell-shocked animal. The sight of his pale hand gripping Norm’s much larger bicep makes you sick to your stomach.

Neteyam gently guides you by your waist to behind one of the trees, you press your back to the rough bark in hopes some kind of sensation will break this shock.

He takes your hand, grabbing the waterskin pouch from his knife sheath strap.

You watch as he pours the clear liquid onto your cut.

The cool water washing away the remnants of red and painful delirium that stained your hand was a soothing stimulation.

He’s movements are quick. Unrehearsed. A raw desperation submerged under his skin.

He rips a strip of fabric off of his loincloth, kneeling down as his knees suddenly assault the dirt with his sudden drop.

He gently takes your hand, wrapping the cloth around the wound, methodical movements carefully tying off this makeshift bandage.

He stands to his feet again, running his palms down your shoulders, then your arms, then your newly bandaged hands.

“Are you hurt anywhere else?”

You shake your head. You find yourself in an absent abstraction of a state. A warped, uncanny fabrication of reality. This verisimilitude within a broken mirror. A wondering reflection.

“You’re shaking.”

His deep accented voice breaks your wall.

You find yourself collapsing into him.

It was a blur, the whole thing.

Your face pressed to Neteyams chest as he kept an arm around you. You breathed in his scent, reminiscences in the familiar warmth of him, an almost magnetic feeling flowing through you.

And for a moment, the spaces didn’t seem too small anymore.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆

Y/n’s pov.

Norm says it was an accident. And accidents are prone to happen.

You sat in Mo’at’s tent, watching as the last few warriors had their injuries cleaned and bandaged.

You fidgeted with your bandage on your hand. Neteyam’s old one had been discarded when you returned, and you were given a real wrap for your hand.

Spider was alive. His breathing was normal again, but he suffered from his fall. You’re shocked he got away with only scrapes and bruises. He wasn’t allowed to climb or leave camp for the next few days. He was confined to bed rest.

He was now resting in the lab bunks. Norm and Max promised you they would not leave his side. It gave you some comfort.

It’s funny, really. How you had no problem facing war. You were good at strategy. A fierce archer. Different from some other na’vi who felt repulsed by human things.

You were fascinated with calculations and numbers. Planning and plotting. Reading and graphing. Heights, distances, etc.

But when something so sudden and blunt like your brother almost falling to his death out of a skyship, you fumbled and almost killed him.

You fidgeted with your bracelet. The one you, spider, and Lo’ak made as children. Twirling the beads between your fingers and staring down into the void of colors and shapes.

The feeling of Neteyam’s arms around you is far from absent. His scent lingers. Honey and wooded.

When you returned, he didn’t leave your side. He led you to his grandmother's tent, gave you water and sat with you until his father dragged him away to assist with gathering the meat from the beast you both hunted up to camp.

You didn’t like being pampered or prodded at, but for some reason your skin that now feels as hollow as a shell, it practically became a ragdoll under Neteyam’s hands.

The world around you felt far too big for this small tent to be encasing the storm of thoughts under your skin.

“Y/n!”

Tuk scampers inside through the entrance, practically throwing herself into your arms.

“Oh Tuk-Tuk.” You whisper, finding familiar warmth carrying you back to reality.

You held Tuk close. As if some threat of a force would take her away. As if the hollowness that shaved your bones longs for something to protect. Something to keep within the circle of your arms.

You smoothed back her braids, kissing her head.

“You’re back.”

She whispers, nuzzling her head into your shoulder. You place your hand on the back of her head, keeping her still and safe.

“Of course I’m back. I’ll always come back. What do I always tell you, love?”

Tuk sniffles, wiping her big eyes with the back of her hand.

“It would take a thousand sky ships to take you away?”

You smiled, tapping her nose gently.

“Make it a million.”

She smiled, but it fades away a bit as she glances down.

“Is spider okay?”

You still for a moment, the familiar ache in your chest returns.

“Oh little love. He’ll be just fine. Spider is big and strong. He’s a wild child, remember?”

You scooped tuk up into your lap, pressing a few kisses to her head, tickling her stomach. She giggled and thrashed in your arms.

“Y/n! Stoppp!”

She laughed wildly.

Finally, you put her back down, letting her snuggle up next to you as you wrapped an arm around her.

It wasn’t long before Kiri and Mo’at entered.

You bowed your head slightly, greeting mo’at.

“Ma’tsahik.”

She nodded at you, placing a hand on your head, smoothing down a few stray hairs from your braids.

“The salve will take affect soon, child. But you must not use it for the next few hours. Let your mind and your body heal.”

You nodded, squeezing her hand.

“Thank you.”

You whispered.

Kiri sat behind you, starting to untangle a few of your braids from its disheveled position tied back with your beaded cuff.

“Let me straighten your braids, tsmuke (sister). It looks worse than my fathers job at braiding.

You snorted, rubbing Tuk’s back as a small giggle leaves her lips.

Mo’at started to clean up the bowls laid around, behind her entered Lo’ak.

“There’s my sister from another mister. Killer shot.”

He teases, locking his hands with yours in a handshake-hug gesture you and him

Picked up as children from watching norm and Jake do it so many times.

When you pull away, he swings his arm around you, making himself comfortable as he leans sloppily over you, pushing Kiri back further.

She groans.

“Lo’ak! You idiot! Stop making me pull her hair!”

He shrugs Kiri off.

“Relax. We all know who y/n’s favorite sully is.”

Kiri scoffs and you reach behind your head to squeeze her hand.

Before you even realize it, the broken fragments of fear and self-hatred wither away under the surface of a settled skin. No longer sleepless with worry.

The air feels lighter with Tuk’s small snuggles and Kiri’s gentle hands running through your long braids, leaving some pieces at the ends unbraided just as she always loved the way it looked on you. Your chest doesn’t feel so tight after a few of Lo’ak’s stupid jokes and stories. The laughter seemingly loosening the threads of torn tapestry.

A few hours later, Neytiri enters the hut.

“Mama!”

Tuk squirms out of your arms, running to neytiri as she smiles softly down at her youngest.

“Oh tuk.”

She hums, leaning down to kiss her daughter's head, her attention turning towards you after tuk jogged away to mo’at.

“My sweet. Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

You shake your head, standing to your feet as she gestures for you to come closer, wrapping her arms around you and resting her chin atop your head, kissing your hairline.

“Oh my strong girl.”

She whispers, running a hand down your back.

“Strong heart.” She hums, stepping back a bit as her eyes slowly take you in.

She turns to Lo’ak and Kiri, who stand up soon after you.

“Your father has called a gathering of the clan’s hunters and warriors.”

She turns to you and Lo’ak, tilting her head upwards slightly.

“Your presence is needed. Both of you.”

You feel yourself straighten instinctively as you let her words register past the lingering haze of your earlier experience still looms over you like a storm cloud.

Lo’ak stretches, ruffling Tuk’s hair as she hisses and swats him away.

“Alright then. Let’s get moving.”

He nudges your elbow, brushing past Neytiri who softly touches his shoulder as he passes by.

“Y/n. A moment please.”

Neytiri’s slender fingers wrap around your forearm. Not harshly, but her voice has a clear coat of concern.

You pause, looking at Lo’ak once more as he ceases his strides.

“Y/n? You coming sis?”

You nod.

“I’ll be there in a minute. You go ahead. I’ll catch up.”

He nods, starting to walk away.

Neytiri turns to her mother.

“Sa’nok. Do you mind watching Tuktirey and Kiri?”

Mo’at shakes her head, standing to her feet and ushering Kiri and Tuk back to the sully family marui, Kiri giving you one last hand squeeze and Tuk giving you a small hug.

Once the tent is empty, your focus rechannels onto Neytiri.

“Is there something wrong?”

You ask.

She shakes her head.

“I just wanted to see if you were alright, yawne.”

Her hands rest on your shoulders, traveling down to your arms.

“You have been through so much these past few weeks, my sweet. If you ever need anything, please, don’t ever be afraid to ask me or Jake or Tsahik. You know this.”

You nod. Smiling softly to reassure her. This woman. This strong, beautiful woman who was giving you the love your mother left behind.

“I am fine. I promise.”

She sighs.

“You have dark circles under your eyes, Y/n. Your thinning a bit. You need sleep, and proper meals.”

She cups your face.

“All I ask is that you take care of yourself, my sweet. And please, let us take care of you. We are here for you. We always have been and will be.”

She gently runs her thumb over your cheek.

“Lean on us, yawne.”

You smiled, the two of you embracing one another in a hug.

You step back after a few moments.

“I promise. I’ll practice at it.”

She smiles and kisses your head.

“Tonight may be a bit evasive for sleep, thought. I’m gonna spend a few hours in the lab before turning in.”

Neytiri tilts her head.

“The sky people room? Why?”

“To check on spider.”

Her expression sours slightly as she hears his name.

“I’m sure he is healing just fine. The sky people’s tools take no time at all, it seems.”

There was an edge in her voice, but you knew it wasn’t directed towards you.

It was a difficult case when it came to what is left of your family.

It was always you, your father, your mother, and spider. A circle of safety and familiarity that never left you unguarded.

When your parents died, you were placed under the care of Jake and Neytiri. Neytiri would do anything for you. She would go to the same lengths for you, she would go to for any of her children. In her eyes, you were hers. Hers to love.

But love is a sacrificial abstraction. (Seems to be a common theme, does it not?)

You think what frustrates her is the sacrifices you make for him. Love was a unsteadily structured sentiment. And when all his attempts seem futile in forms of pale skin painted blue, there was a sensitive inflection of utterances.

You were his sister. You weren’t leaving him.

To Neytiri, your life was a cage. Stuck with this feral human boy who fancied himself a na’vi. A soul coaxed to wild-child thunderstorms and bruised knees from tree climbing, messy locs from days of sunlit spaces.

In her eyes you were stuck with Spider.

Her love and protection was something that created a barricade between you and your brother. You prayed you would never find yourself having to choose between spider and her.

“I should go see him. Just to check on him. I won’t be there long.”

Neytiri nodded, but you can tell she was biting her tongue.

You give her one more soft smile before turning to leave.

“Y/n?”

You turn at the call of your name, and she only utters a few words.

“Your mother loved that…boy. I know she did. But you are allowed to think differently. You need not be burdened with carrying yourself and another.”

You didn’t need her to elaborate. You understood.

You nodded.

“My mother believed that connection is unconditional. The color that stains our skin and our blood doesn’t make a family. She always told me that if you bind yourself to pure hatred, you forget who you are. I love my people. It’s all I’ve ever known.”

Neytiri’s tail swished.

“Y/n. Do not abandon what eywa has given us.”

Her voice was pleading. As if trying to place tessellations of an invisible disillusionment. A carefulness edged.

“I abandon no one.”

You whispered, holding her hands.

“But please. Understand that my home was built around both me and spider. The biggest abandonment I can see from that would be leaving him behind.”

She says nothing.

She stared at you with something you didn’t recognize.

It wasn’t cold, or shallow. Her gaze monitored a retrospection of something lost. Behind a liquid glass. You couldn’t tell if she saw you in a mirror or a window.

It’s blunted and ceased after a few moments. She kisses the top of your head.

“Olo’eyktan waits for you. Go on.”

You nod at her, deciding to take that as your signal to depart.

☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮

When you arrived at the meeting spot, the first thing you see is your clans most renounced warriors in a circle with the exception of a few hunters and Lo’ak. He wasn’t quite as skilled as Neteyam when it came to certain skills, but was a warrior all the same.

You find a spot next to Lo’ak, nodding respectfully at the other na’vi easily recognizable that stood across from you.

Kyuna’s father, Makeyo and his father, Ka’ani, Lo’ak’s current teacher, and the man who took your fathers and place in teaching the young hunters undergoing iknimiya, and a handful others.

The dreamwalkers couldn’t be seen in the gathering, you assumed they retired back to their reserved part of the stronghold.

You turned to Lo’ak, who was fidgeting with his bracelet, the one you, him and spider shared.

“What is this about?”

You whispered.

Lo’ak shrugged, glancing at you, the two usual braids that framed the sides of his head falling in his face.

“Maybe we’re all gonna hold hands in a circle and dance about love and peace.”

He hummed, his face blank.

Your tail thwacked the back of his head.

“The sarcasm is not appreciated.”

You rolled your eyes.

He scoffed.

“I learned it from you.”

You felt something brush your side, you and Lo’ak both turn to see Neteyam take a spot next to you.

“Bro, where have you been? Being late for you is like-

Once in a lifetime.”

He nods, standing next to you.

“Had to make sure the ikran were tended to with a few others.”

He placed a hand on the small of your back, his gaze forged of soft honored gold, and deep skies.

“I fed Kailo and made sure he was tended to. He’s just fine.”

You mentally slap the shit out of yourself when you remember rushing to get spider to the lab so fast you dismounted Kailo without even noticing your companions weariness from the excitement.

“Shit- I completely forgot- fuck.”

You drag your palms down your face.

“It’s okay. He was fine. Still feisty as usual.”

The chuckle in his throat reverberated against the deep accent of his voice.

You felt yourself heat on the back of your neck.

“Thank you, Neteyam.”

He nodded, gently letting his hand fall back to his side.

“Yeah yeah, so kind of you-

Bro do you know what we’re even here for?”

Lo’ak not-so-subtly shoved himself between you and Neteyam pensively, unbothered by his clear dislike of your close proximity.

Lo’ak never loved the idea of you and neteyam being together. Not when you two were courting, and not now. Always pensive of you and Neteyam hanging out for too long, even doing together something as harmless as helping Mo’at back to her feet after a nap.

You always thought it was jealousy. Not the romantic type. The clan always told you that you and Lo’ak would make a beautiful match. But the thought felt like wearing clothes too big for you. Detached, displaced sense of stability. You loved Lo’ak. More than anything, you really did. But it wasn’t romantic. And Lo’ak clearly didn’t see you as wife material.

That’s fine. He wouldn’t make a great wife either to be honest.

It confused you sometimes. Lo’ak often showed Neteyam off to you, praising him. You wondered if it was sarcasm, or just respecting his brother enough to not embarrass him, but not wanting you two to court again either.

It was a mess for another moment.

Neteyam shrugged, shaking his head.

“Probably just a debriefing. The hunt was…unexpected to say the least.”

You nodded, locking gazes with Lo’ak for a moment as you both had a silent conversation.

It wasn’t long before Jake arrived, the first thing he did was check on the three of you. Mo’at followed behind him, making her way straight for the center ahead the gathering. It wasn’t uncommon for Tsahik to be present and meetings like this.

“You kids alright?”

Placing a hand on Lo’ak’s shoulder, checking your hand and patting Neteyam’s back.

“We’re fine, sir. Just a few scratches.”

Neteyam affirmed, shifting on his feet slightly.

Jake sighed in relief, hugging both his sons, before dragging you into the hug.

“I’m proud of you boys. Did nice riding out there, Lo’ak. And your shot was right on line, Neteyam.”

Lo’ak didn’t show it, but you could tell he was smiling. He kept his gaze down, peering at the ground.

Neteyam nodded, a smile tugging at his lips as well. You found it cute that both Neteyam and Lo’ak, even at ages 19 and 18, were still excited about getting a compliment from the great Toruk Makto. Their father.

The two of them talked for a moment, you found your gaze drifting to Makeyo and his father. They were speaking in the crowd. Makeyo looked anxious. Almost tensed as his father kept a hand on his back, ranting in a whisper.

Jake lead the three of you to the front of the gathering, straying from the crowd a bit. “Boys, do me a favor and go make sure we have everyone?”

Lo’ak and neteyam nodded, both jogging off to weave through the crowd and count heads of all the warriors they recognized.

As Neteyam and Lo’ak walked ahead, Jake placed a hand on your shoulder, giving you what you think spider called ‘a thumbs up’

“Nice shooting, sweetheart.”

He smiled proudly, sitting down next to you on one of the crevices.

You tried to conceal a smile of your own; your attempt pathetic as you smiled up at him like a child bringing home a freshly caught fish.

“Thank you.”

He ruffled your hair.

“Two for two shot-

Eywa, you never fail amaze me. What was it you and Neteyam did, the uhm, the two arrows in one-?”

“And one in the other. Something I’ve practiced with Lo’ak.”

You explained, smiling as he laughed.

“Genius. Absolutely.”

You two sat like that for a moment before neteaym and Lo’ak returned.

“Father, we are ready.”

Neteyam informed. Jake nodded, stretching as he stood to his feet.

Mo’at gently touched your back as she stood next to you.

Jake held a hand up, signaling the clan to be still and quiet.

“Thank you, my people for gathering. I’ll try to make this one quick.”

Jake’s lack of informality never seemed to not make you chuckle a bit.

“I have decided to make arrangements for the trainees in the war parties.”

He turned to the group that stood behind Makeyo and his father.

“It has come to my attention that some of you have clearly been ranked beneath your current abilities. And need more open field training.”

Open field training?

It was something you had back when you were 15. A few months after your parents passed. Jake started teaching you human tatical skills. How to use a gun, far distance targets, how to read radios and signals on old ships and navigate the screen charts on the controls. You so heavily insisted on having a position fighting the sky people. You worked, and you trained, until you became the most skilled warrior on your group. Even passing Neteyam and Lo’ak in your group.

Jake appointed you to his side. And you still at the realization that the moment he appointed you, it started with a meeting just like this.

Uncertainty shaved the hopeful soul that coated your bones.

Jake continued.

“I have decided that the upper rank trainees will start with new practices. They will now be lead by Ka’ani. Awkey, you will lead the years younger.”

So it wasn’t what you thought. Your position remained, it seemed.

The sudden switch of teachers was a bit odd, nonetheless.

Jake finished his speech minutes later. It was a short overview of new tactics the warriors would be learning. New places for target practice, and unfamiliar routines.

You didn’t mind the new schedules. It seemed like less of your day would be consumed in strategy sessions.

When he finished, the crowd started to disperse. Lo’ak went to speak with Awkey, leaving you with Jake, Mo’at, and Neteyam.

Makeyo and his father remained in their spots; as if waiting for a further instruction.

Makeyo’s father, Va’ru, was ambitious to a point it was farther than frightening. Constantly trying to put his son in first place. Like a cloud formulating a storm that swirled seated under restless skin.

Neteyam stepped forward, his tail flicked slightly.

“Dad, if Lo'ak's group will be with Awkey, does that mean I will be undergoing Ka’ani’s training?”

Jake shifts for a moment, as if trying to place his words in the right order.

“Yes and no. I have a different plan for you.”

Neteyam’s eyes widened only slightly, his tail flicking.

“Sir?”

He tilted his head.

Jake’s tone was clinging to remain inconcous as he saw Makeyo’s father approach.

“Olo’eyktan. I assume this is about the private lessons for Makeyo?”

Private lessons? Makeyo was going to take private lessons with Jake?

Makeyo seemed reluctant to engage in whatever was about to happen, gently tugging on his fathers arm.

“Father. Please. There was no certainty it would be me.”

His pleading falls deaf on his fathers ears.

“Va’ru. There has been a change.”

Jake speaks slowly, as if not to wake a sleeping thanator.

Va’ru is still for a moment.

Neteaym steps forward, gently past his grandmother.

“What are we speaking of?”

He inquires, his own ounce of impatience slipping past his mask ever so subtly.

Jake sighs, rubbing his temple.

“This is not how things were supposed to go.

Over the last few weeks, I have been individually monitoring the warriors in your group to consider them for private lessons. Since Y/n is my most prominent warrior, she would be teaching the one I chose. My choice was Makeyo.”

Makeyo’s ears flicker upwards, and his father straightens, a smile forming on his face. It wasn’t genuine or even greatful. It was hungry, frenzied with torrid energy.

“Olo’eyktan. I would be honored to have Makeyo be taught under your most trusted archer.”

You felt your expression sour. Clearly uncomfortable with the energy that radiates off Va’ru.

Jake shakes his head.

“I have had a change of mind. As of a few days ago I have decided to give the role to Neteyam.”

This feels mosaic the moment you register his words. The figures around you now made of oddly shaped colors and sizes of glass. All the wrong shades.

You feel your fingers twitch and your mind go adrift. A blanket ablaze blanks your mind to a faceless slate.

Alone. With Neteyam.

The words swirl around like a whirlpool. A windless storm without the familiarity of chaos to stabilize the seas.

You try to place yourself in the vision but you can’t. You can’t seem to inhabit the precipice of this reality.

Your shaken away from the void of your thoughts as Jake places a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/n. You will train Neteyam. Teach him the things I have taught you and your own ways. He will learn a lot from you. We’ll have another archer in our skies. More air combat support.”

You force yourself to nod and swallow, neteyam still seemingly frozen at the news.

Va’ru is clearly not pleased.

“Olo’eyktan. With all due respect-“

The funny thing is, there’s not an ounce of respect in his tone. Its ironically edged, as if Jake’s decision is the height of audacity.

“Makeyo has been training. He’s familiarized himself with Y/n’s methods. He studies her.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed when Neteyam’s ears pin down, his gaze narrowing as the words ‘study her’ reach his ears.

You can’t blame him. It does sound fucked up.

Va’ru digs himself in a deeper hole this time.

“He trains the younger children with her. He spends most of his days with her. He’s dedicated his time, his-“

Jake cuts him off, his voice a bit sterner this time, and you can tell his patience is slipping away.

“It’s not about time. It’s about skill. Makeyo is a very talented warrior. There’s no doubt. He’s a strong archer. But neteyam has shown promise over these last few weeks. He’s worked to improve his knowledge on the air strike patterns of the RDA. Hes flown with me to scout the perimeters of hell’s gate. He’s ready to advance to start training with newer methods.”

Va’ru scoffs, taking a step back, your tail flicks.

“You throw your son in the highest place again and again. You choose to ignore the others potential.”

Jake wasn’t one for favoritism when it came to the honest work of his warriors. To suggest otherwise was offensive.

Honor was valued among the na’vi. It was wrong to accuse him of just always picking neteyam. If anything, this was Neteyam’s chance. He had worked so hard to be seen by his dad. You knew this.

Jake took a breath to steady his urge to let this guy steal the last shred of tolerance he has left.

“Va’ru. Not infront of the others. We can speak privately-“

Va’ru’s tone was biting now.

“You cannot keep doing this. And your son can’t keep ‘running to daddy’ when he falls behind my son and can’t admit it.”

Something surged through the hungered veins under your skin. The fire never stayed absent for very long. Purging itself to cultivate on unsettled gilded flesh.

A hiss left you. The ardent prolonged end notes of something almost inhibited by a growl. A fervid, feverish vehemence whisped behind.

Va’ru’s eyes widened a bit, his prior confidence subduing under a sheet of hesitance.

Jake pushed you back a bit, a warning glare tossed towards your squirming figure to step forward once again.

“We can speak privately. But I will not allow you to insult the hard work of my son. Or question the expertise of Y/n.”

Va’ru and Jake agreed to talk privately, but you predicted just more arguing.

☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮

Seeking solitude in the hidden caves of the mountainous cave of high camp, you settled with your anxiousness with one of the corridors above the first columns.

You paced back in fourth, cursing to yourself and throwing sharp stones at the wall.

You weren’t ready. You just weren’t ready. The moment Jake and Va’ru left you ran for the farthest place you could find. You couldn’t bare to look at Neteyam.

Jake’s words from earlier pierce the surfaces of unsteady standing ground in your heart.

Love isn’t easy

You know what else isn’t easy? Having to spend all day with the man you used to dream about kissing. Loving. Hugging. Mating with.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

Your pulse quickens.

You remember that day. You remember the day though you waited for him under the rain.

Under a lapis hued nightfall you were ready to give him your heart. Raw and bruised and blemished and every curve and dip and imperfection yearned for his touch.

But you fell in love with the sun. And you were undeserving of sunlight.

A boy made of flaxen fanned regrets and flamed forged promises.

You loved him. You didn’t love him for the son made of stone. Through the shifting shadows and vibrant visions of excellence engraved in ecstasy that echoed through disassembled pieces of manic daydreams.

You loved him. Tormented yourself with distance and fervent optimism. Idealisms too far to be attained.

This forbidden collision of the sun and the moon.

And you waited. Damn yourself yet you waited.

You waited for an explanation for his departure. A reason for this distance.

Weeping under a wild sky, disgusted with your own reflection. The sight of yourself just a poor effort of what you could have given him.

And then your family went somewhere you cannot follow, and suddenly he seeks remorse.

It’s unfair. It is so fucking unfair the nights you spent crying over the loss of his warmth. The sunlight felt cold. The warmth wind felt unfamiliar.

And then you found the moonlight. The contingent comfort of dimmed sapphire hues and vengeance.

You refused to cry. You refused to be weakened. Your mother had seen fire and survived it. You had seen fire and burned with it-

And burn you will. Burn under the Sirius secrets whispered under the raptured intimacy of independence and its sweetening bindings.

So be it. So burn. bloodshed forging bones into bludgeons of tattered tears trains and scarred screams, soulless sleep.

Forgiveness surrounds itself in fractions of frustrations.

You damned the sky starless because all the stars had fallen with your tears waiting for him. Waiting for the voices in your head to surrender and ricochet to the shallow corners of the planes traced lines on your palm.

You recount. Roll back and fast-forwards through every memory no longer remembered under glistening sunlight poured into liquid glass, and the hues of his golden eyes.

He was daylight. He wore a halo of Helios and draped warm flesh over sun-stained soulful essence to challenge the sea and the sky. A faint heartbeat under adrift moments scattered to a tethered wind.

A man, a mask, and it’s burdens and bodies and sun-dried bones. He was a symphony and you, a mere half note of lost virtues.

Why must you constantly be at war with yourself? Why do you do this to yourself?

Do you hate him?

Do you love him?

Do you want him?

You were nightfall.

Cascades of constellations and curls of lavender. A restless shade of reddened sunset, undertoned swirling and swept to hues of purple, orange, blue, a fiery sunset. Moonlight worn like a veil, tear-stained lips and blood stained hips and yet, oh how beautiful you were. Dark and delicately dressed in grief.

Sensationalize these bittersweet story endings and happily never after forever, then maybe some more.

To restrain this punishment, this internal unredeemable consciousness.

Someone is behind you. Coming slowly into your peripheral view.

You move quickly, drawing the knife on your hip and flipping it into your uninjured hand, steadying at the perpetrators throat.

“Shit! Easy, easy…”

Neteyam holds his hands up in defense, his eyes wide at your sudden movements.

“Y/n. It’s just me.” He cautiously lowers the knife in your hand.

Great. The man of the hour.

Oh eywa must have you fucked up if she thinks you’re dealing with this right now.

“Get out.”

You didn’t mean to sound so punitive, but you were pissed, confused, and on the verge of tears. That was never a very delightful combo.

Neteyam shook his head.

“I can’t.”

“Neteyam I’m not going to tell you again. Get out. Please.”

Your voice cracked this time as you took a step forward.

“Y/n please.” He begged.

“Get out! Go! Leave! Fuera!”

You used every word you knew. Including another earth language spider had been teaching you. ‘Spanish’ is what he called it.

He winced, but only for a moment.

“I can’t. Because if I leave id just carry myself right back here.”

It satisfied you but it did nothing to console the ache in your heart.

“Then what do you want?”

You whispered.

“Another chance.”

Fuck.

You took a step away, running your palms down your face. Neteyam ignored the gesture, walking after you.

“It’s been years, y/n. I’ve dug my own grave and I’ve lied in it. I can’t eat or sleep properly anymore because it fucking eats me alive.”

Neteyam Sully was never one to curse. That was more of lo’aks calling card. So it stunned you slightly when he spoke in such a way.

You turned to face him. His golden hour eyes locking with yours.

“I don’t ask for your forgiveness. I only ask for you to hear me out.”

He took a breath.

“From the moment I was born, every single moment of my life feels like it’s been calculated. Staged, rehearsed, nothing was ever out of place. Everything was a plan- a strategy. I’m not asking for your pity but all I ask is that you understand. That life is all I’ve ever known, Y/n.

And then I fell in love with you. And you were just-“

He paces around as he walks. Talking with his hands, making grand gestures to try and articulate some spontaneous thought without really knowing what he was saying at all.

For every moment in his life being staged and prepared, this sure as hell didn’t seem rehearsed.

Maybe the sun-stained son made of stone broke like glass after all.

He continues stumbling over his words. It was rather unlike him. To be this outspoken and unequivocal with his words.

“You we’re just, Eywa I don’t know how to begin.

You were wild and unpredictable, so unbothered and reckless and passionate. You still are. You make the most dangerous shit I’ve ever seen in my life seem so graceful and beautiful. You care for my siblings, Tuk wants to quite literally ‘be y/n’ when she grows up and Lo’ak and Kiri would probably plot a mass murder if you asked them too. My mother and my father love you like one of their own. I don’t want what used to be between us ruin any of that. I’m tired of it, y/n. I’m tired of all the awkward formalities and hating eachother. And I’ll be damned if I’ve ever met a woman in my entire life who knows a bow and arrow like you do.”

You’re stunned. Everything he says sinks under your skin for a moment.

He takes a breath.

“Y/n. Please. Give me another chance. To be friends again. I miss you. I really do. You're going to be my teacher now. We shouldn’t be-“

“Just shut up for a minute.”

A small ‘yes ma’am.’ Leaves his lips as his gaze darts down a bit.

Now, if someone told you about 30 minutes from now you would be hugging neteyam sully, you probably would have called them crazy.

But now, as eywa as your witness, that’s exactly what you did.

He was still for a moment, and then he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you back.

You took a step back, smiling at him softly.

“Our first lesson starts as soon as my hand is healed. Don’t be late.”

And with that, you left.

Neteyam stood there for a moment before jumping up, fisting the air, a celebratory ‘fuck yes!’ Leaving his lips silently.

Maybe things made of stone can break like glass after all.

☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓✮ ☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮☾𖤓 ☾𖤓✮

Parallels:

Biggest parallel: the “hell yeah!” Line between neteyam and y/n is parallel to this scene between Jake and Neytiri.

Spider and Y/n - Tommy and Jake (two siblings, two sides of the same coin)

Y/n and Neytiri - (learning to love even through grief)

Y/n and Jake - (’soldier mentality’ and low self image because of trauma)

Lo’ak, Y/n and Neytiri - (rebelliousness)

Spider and Neteyam- (oldest sibling responsibility)

Authors note:

I’m alive! I survived probably the longest chapter in this fic. I think I owe all my virago readers an apology. This chapter is WAY overdue. I'm sorry about that one, y'all.

But we're finally out of the enemy stage! And now I get to enjoy writing fluffy moments between neteyam and y/n, aka our resident virago and sun son made of stone.

So I just want to clear some things up before I wrap this up.

In my story, spider is a Spanish speaker. I read the original script and saw that he does speak Spanish in one of the scenes, and as a Spanish speaker and a spider stan that just warms my heart. Yes, a na’vi speaking Spanish might sound kinda cringe but it's my personal headcanon that spider would definitely teach y/n Spanish.

Btw I just finished watching the hunger games so if anyone can catch all the Haymitch and Katniss references between y/n and Jake I will literally kiss you.

Remember to pleas like, comment, reblog, and as a request from me, please comment your favorite quote. trope, dynamic, or moment in this chapter or even the story so far.

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