#THEY ARE NOT. THEY ARE WORSE. it's like if all of the foes in the 3h battle against lonato had names and unique dialogue

[jetii]

Event Horizon

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Ashes to Ashes

Chapter WC: 15,440

Chapter Tags/Warnings: angst, unnamed/minor character death, this is a battle chapter, a heavy one

A/N: sorry sorry sorry (thank you for 850 followers!) sorry sorry sorry

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Duro, 20 BBY

Sweat drips down your face, stinging your eyes, but you don't dare lift a hand to wipe it away. You keep your focus on the droid in front of you, the buzzing in your ears drowning out the battle raging on all sides. Everything is a blur, a flurry of blasterfire and smoke. You can barely tell friend from foe, ally from enemy. You just keep moving, dodging and ducking, weaving your lightsabers through the chaos.

You’ve lost track of time, your body reacting purely on the training instilled in you from childhood. There's no time to think or plan, no room for error. Just action. It's instinct, pure and simple, a fight for survival, and every fiber of your being is focused on staying alive. Keeping the soldiers around you alive. Killing as many of the droids as possible.

You've been at this for hours. 

Hours since the first wave of droids marched out of the wastelands and up to the city. Since you and Rex had split up and led the men to their positions along the perimeter. Since the first shot was fired. Since the fighting began.

Hours since you saw Rex.

Your vision fades in and out as you move, your mind drifting between past and present. Droids are everywhere, advancing and retreating in waves. Blasters firing and deflected. Men falling and getting back up. Until all you can see around you is dust and smoke and debris.

And through it all, you feel it. An itch under your skin, a pressure behind your eyes. The familiar presence, the cold, unrelenting pull, the darkness that hangs over the battlefield, drawing closer with each passing minute. 

You're not sure what's worse. The knowledge that it's coming, or the fear that it's already here.

But there's nothing you can do. You can't think about it now. You have a job to do. So you keep fighting, and the hours pass.

As taxing the battle has been, it's nothing less than routine. There's a certain comfort in that. In knowing that the enemy is predictable and the strategy is the same. Your men have the advantage of higher ground and better weapons and more experience. The droids don't stand a chance. Not really.

So why can't you shake the feeling that something is wrong?

The wind picks up as you slice through another set of droids, and you feel a shiver run down your spine. You duck behind a piece of rubble and peer out into the distance, searching the horizon, but find nothing. The wind has picked up some, the dead grass jutting from the cracks in the ground and debris swirling around your feet. There's something familiar about it, something that sends a chill racing down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.

“How're you doing, sir?" Snap's voice asks through the comm on your wrist, and you glance down at it before returning your attention to the landscape before you.

"Could be better," you admit. A droid attempts to dart around your cover before being shot down, and you shake your head. "But we're holding our own."

"Any idea how many are left?"

"Not really," you sigh with a grimace. "Couple thousand, give or take.”

“Right," Snap says, and the line crackles, his voice cutting out before coming back. "Keep...alive."

"I'll do my best," you mutter as you duck out from behind the rock and start toward the nearest group of droids. You slash through them easily, blades cutting through the metal like butter, and you advance, heading further outside the city walls. The wind is getting stronger, and the clouds are beginning to thicken, a storm brewing in the distance. You grit your teeth and push on. "How are things at your end?"

"I don't want to jinx it, but..."

"Then don't," Dash's voice cuts in sharply.

"We're holding steady," Snap finishes, a hint of irritation in his tone. "A little bored, to be honest."

"I said don't," Dash groans, and you smirk at the exchange.

"Relax, Dash'ika," Screwball snorts. "We've got this."

The banter continues, the troopers trading quips and insults, and the knot in your chest loosens a bit, the pressure behind your eyes easing. It's a welcome distraction, the casual, easy conversation grounding you, and you find yourself laughing to yourself at the antics of your men. It's not much, but it's enough. For now.

"General, how's it going out there?" Dash asks in an attempt to distract the others from their argument.

"Oh, you know, the usual," you answer dryly as you slice through a pair of B1 droids, their circuits sparking and smoking as they hit the ground. "Nothing too exciting."

"Yeah?" Snap snorts. "That's not what it looks like on the feed."

"Yeah," Screwball chimes in. "You're practically swimming in clankers."

"Jealous?" you ask, and a round of laughs and jeers come through the comm.

"What do you think?" Snap asks. "You gonna let us have a turn?"

"Nope," you reply with a grin as you deflect another shot. It ricochets off a tank and hits a droid in the chest, sending it flying backwards. "Any word from outside?"

"Not yet," he replies, sighing. "Long range is still down."

"Well, hopefully they're not all having too much fun without us," you mutter, and there's a murmur of agreement through the line. "Stay alert. I'll check in soon."

The comm crackles and dies, and you return your attention to the droids swarming around you. A series of explosions in the distance signal the arrival of another wave, and you brace yourself as the ground begins to rumble beneath your feet. The wind is picking up again, whipping the dust and smoke into a frenzy, and you duck down, shielding your eyes with one hand. You can't see a thing, but you can sense them, their mechanical bodies looming like specters in the darkness.

"Sir!" a voice shouts.

You turn just in time to see a blur of white and brown flying toward you. A clone launches himself in the air and tackles a droid that was about to shoot you in the back, sending the pair of them tumbling to the ground. He manages to land on top of the droid and draws his vibroblade, sinking the weapon into the metal chassis with a grunt. There's a loud crack, and the droid falls still.

Another droid turns and begins firing, and without thinking, you yank the trooper towards you with the Force. The droid's blast sails harmlessly over his shoulder and hits another in the chest, the force of the shot sending it careening into a wall. 

The trooper lands at your feet, and he quickly rolls and fires his blaster, dropping another pair of droids before he scrambles back to his feet. You're already moving forward again, clearing a path, and he follows hot on your heels.

"Sir!" the clone shouts over the noise. "Sir, it's me, Lieutenant Price!"

"I remember," you call back, deflecting another round of shots and sending them into the ground in front of the droids' feet, kicking up a spray of dust and dirt. "Good form, by the way. Didn't think you had it in you."

"Oh, uh, thanks, sir!" Price says, and you can practically hear the blush creeping across his face. You shake your head and keep moving.

"What's going on?"

"Nothing good," he replies with a grunt as he takes down another pair of droids. "We're losing men."

You grimace and duck behind a chunk of concrete to avoid a hail of blaster fire. The lieutenant presses against the side of the wall, his chest heaving, his helmet askew, his hands gripping the blaster tightly. He looks like he's been through hell and back, and you have a sinking suspicion that's exactly what he's been through.

"What happened?"

"We lost the north tower," Price answers, and the news hits you like a punch to the gut. You had sent a team up there earlier, and now they're gone. Just like that. Your throat tightens.

"The south tower?"

"Still holding."

"Alright," you breathe, trying to keep your composure. You peek over the edge of the rubble and scan the battlefield. A series of explosions rips through the droid ranks, sending plumes of dust and smoke high into the air, and Price takes the opportunity to pop off a couple shots and duck back down. "We need to keep moving."

"All due respect, sir," he pants, "that's easier said than done. We—shit, look out!"

He grabs your arm and pulls you back as a tank rounds the corner of the building. The two of you tumble to the ground, and you scramble back behind the cover of the debris, narrowly missing the tank's laser cannon. The blast obliterates the stone wall, showering the both of you in pieces of duracrete.

"We have to get back," Price shouts over the noise. "Sir!"

"We can't," you reply, peering over the rubble at the tank. "I need to find their tactical droid. I have a feeling that—"

A blaster bolt ricochets off the stone inches from your head, and you duck back down, gritting your teeth. The lieutenant swears under his breath and fumbles for his blaster, firing a couple rounds over the top of the barrier before ducking back down.

"You have a feeling, sir?" he asks incredulously. "That's it? You have a feeling?"

"Yes," you growl, watching as a group of droids advances on the position where you and Price are hiding. A squad of your men run to intercept them, and you wince when you watch two of them fall in a hail of blaster fire. "A feeling!"

Price lets out a nervous laugh. "A feeling. Great. I love feelings."

You can't stop the chuckle that escapes your lips, and you shake your head, glancing up at him. He looks exhausted and frustrated and scared, and you can't blame him. This is a fight that none of you were expecting. And while you may have experienced this level of opposition before, he certainly hasn't.

You reach out and put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze and trying to import some semblance of reassurance through the touch.

"Hey," you say quietly, offering him a small smile. "I know this is scary, but we've got this. Okay? You're doing great."

Price's shoulders slump a little, and he lets out a shaky breath. His grip tightens on his blaster, and he nods. "Thanks, sir. I...I needed to hear that."

"First time?"

"What gave it away?" he asks, his voice heavy with sarcasm, and you snort and pat his shoulder before pulling away.

"A feeling," you quip. He laughs, a short, startled noise, and you take a deep breath and look out at the battlefield again. "So, what's the plan, Lieutenant?"

"Plan? Well, uh..." he trails off. "I'm not really...sure, sir. I mean, I'm not exactly the planning type. That's not really my—"

"No time like the present to learn," you cut him off, and he swallows hard. You can see him wracking his brain for a strategy, his helmet darting left and right as he tries to make sense of the chaos.

"Okay," he mutters, peering over the edge of the cover. "There's a tank coming our way."

"And?"

"And we should get back to the wall," Price says, turning back to you, "and we can lay down explosives to cover our retreat."

"Good," you nod and gesture to him. "Lead the way."

"Really?"

"Yep," you reply, popping the last syllable. You shoo him forward. "Go. Go now. I'll follow."

"Right," he nods and glances over his shoulder, stiffening as he takes in the droids closing in. "Oh, okay. Okay. Let's go."

He gives himself a little shake and jumps up, and you follow close behind, deflecting the blasts aimed in his direction. The two of you sprint across the battlefield, dodging and weaving through the carnage and debris. There's a group of clones huddled behind a stack of crates, and Price motions for them to follow, the squad falling in behind the two of you as you make a break for the wall. They empty their pockets of explosives, laying a trail as they move.

"Keep going," Price yells over the din, and you nod, pushing the clones forward as they scramble through the rubble.

The air is getting thicker as the storm looms overhead, and the wind is blowing in all directions, whipping your robes around your legs and obscuring your vision. The droids are relentless, a steady stream of fire coming from their blasters as they chase after you and the clones, and it's all you can do to keep them at bay.

"General, what's your status?" Rex's voice crackles through the commlink on your wrist, and you let out a relieved sigh at the sound of his voice. "Are you alright?"

"Fine," you pant, deflecting another shot. "We're fine."

"Where are you?"

"We're on our way back," you reply, gesturing for the squad of clones to keep moving. A shot whistles by your ear, and you duck, a small yelp escaping your lips. "Don't worry."

"Worried isn't the right word, General," he grumbles, his tone laced with concern. "I just...you're taking longer than expected."

"It's a big battlefield," you snap, a little harsher than intended, and you grimace. "Sorry. Sorry, I didn't mean that. It's been a rough day."

"You're telling me," he grunts. There's a burst of static, and he curses under his breath. "I'm losing your signal. Where are you?"

"Almost back," you answer as the wall comes into view, a beacon of hope in the sea of chaos. You gesture to the men. "Run! Now!"

The clones sprint for the gate, and you run with them, keeping an eye on the droids behind you. The ramparts rise ahead, 501st troopers manning cannons and laying down cover fire. Soldiers’ shouts and the roar of Separatist tanks rumbling into position fill the air with deafening clamor, and you sprint harder, desperate to escape.

A thunderous crash shudders beneath your feet as smoke and dust billow from the breach a tank blasted through the wall. Two clones are hurled through the air, landing with sickening thuds meters away. You bite back a scream and press on, the wind howling around you.

Then the first explosion erupts where the wall once stood. A fireball flares outward, flinging debris, battle droids, and troopers in every direction. A clone beside you is knocked off his feet, and you seize his arm and haul him upright. He stumbles, helmet spinning, and you grasp his shoulder and shove him toward the city gate.

Within the walls, the mines you’d planted detonate in rapid succession. Brilliant bursts tear gaps in the droid ranks, sending chunks of durasteel and limbs flying. The droids scatter, their formation broken, and the clones waste no time in regrouping and surging forward to cut down those remaining.

"Go!" you yell, shoving the clones in front of you toward the safety of the gate. "Keep going! Come on, get inside!"

You sprint toward the opening in the wall, the ground shaking beneath your feet. Your ears are ringing, and your lungs burn, but you don't dare slow down. You're so close. Just a little farther.

"Look out!" a voice cries.

A final blast rattles the earth, and you stumble, your lightsabers skidding from your grasp as you fall onto your knees, palms scraping raw dirt. The ground trembles again as a massive chunk of wall collapses, its jagged debris hurtling straight for you. Instinctively, you extend a hand, and the Force arrests the fragment, leaving it suspended above your head. 

For a moment, you're stunned, the sight of the giant slab of stone hovering inches from your face leaving you breathless. You barely notice the figure sliding across the dirt towards you, snatching up your lightsabers as he goes, until you're grabbed around the waist and thrown through the gate, the rock slamming into the ground in front of you.

"Sir!" Rex shouts, his arms shielding you from the worst of the debris as the wall continues to collapse around you. "Can you hear me?"

"I'm here," you gasp, and the ground shakes again, sending another wave of dust and rubble into the air. "Rex, I'm okay."

Another explosion tears through the wall, and a section of the stonework topples over. You reach out with the Force and push it aside, gritting your teeth against the strain, and the stone hits the ground a couple meters away.

"Come on," Rex says, tugging you back up and pulling you against him, one hand pressing against the back of your head. "Get to cover. We have to close the gate!"

"But—"

"Now!" he barks. "Before they regroup!"

You falter, knowing that if you close the gate now, the men still outside will be trapped, cut off from the safety of the city and left to fend for themselves. Your heart twists at the thought of leaving them behind, and you look to Rex, your eyes pleading. His expression is unreadable behind the tinted visor, but his posture tells you everything you need to know. He's already made up his mind.

"Rex," you say weakly, the word little more than a plea, but he just shakes his head.

"You can't save them," he says softly. He grabs your shoulders, giving you a firm shake. "The droids are already inside the city. We have to seal the gate. It's the only way."

He's right, you know he is, and the fact that he's able to see the bigger picture while you're paralyzed by guilt and fear sends a fresh wave of shame coursing through your veins. You can't bring yourself to meet his gaze, and you look down at the dirt and debris beneath your feet, swallowing hard.

"General," he says, his voice cracking, "please. There's no other option."

The pain in his voice breaks your heart, and you close your eyes and nod. The moment you do, Rex turns and pulls a lever, and the gate begins to slide shut, a low rumble filling the air as the metal scrapes against the concrete. You watch the gap narrow, your mind racing and your lungs struggling to take in air. There's still time. If you hurry, maybe you can—

"General," Rex barks. "Close it."

You grit your teeth and push out with the Force, willing the gate to shut faster. It slams shut with a resounding clang, and you're left staring at the blank metal face. A heavy blast strikes the barrier, followed by another, and another, and another, but the gate holds, the steel absorbing the impact of the blasts. Still, you stand there, watching the blows strike the metal, counting each one.

A hand lands on your shoulder, and you turn to see Rex, his eyes wide, his helmet discarded. You can see the pain in his eyes, the guilt, and you realize he's holding himself together by a thread, just like you are. But unlike you, he's strong. He knows what he has to do, and he's willing to do it. You've always admired that about him, and in this instance, it's the one thing that keeps you from breaking down.

"I'm sorry," he whispers as he holds your lightsabers out to you, the metal gleaming dully in the flickering light. You take them numbly and clip them back to your belt.

"We did what we had to do,” you say quietly.

"That doesn't make it any easier."

"No," you sigh. "No, it doesn't."

Rex nods, his fingers tracing along your jaw before his hand falls away. His eyes are distant and haunted, and he seems lost, his thoughts somewhere else entirely. You know he's replaying the same scenario in his mind as you are, wondering if there was anything he could have done differently. Anything either of you could have done. But it's pointless. The past is the past, and nothing can change what happened. All you can do now is move forward.

A flash of lightning illuminates the sky, and the rumble of thunder reverberates through the city. The clouds above are dark and foreboding, the wind howling and lashing at the walls around you. Rex looks up at the ominous sky with a grim expression, his brow furrowed in thought.

"We need to fall back," he says, and you nod, following him as he turns and begins walking quickly. "I've ordered a retreat into the city. It's the only safe place now."

"What about the wounded?" you ask, looking over at him as the two of you begin to run, weaving through the crowds of men heading deeper into the city, weapons in hand. "There are men on the outskirts."

"They're being taken care of," he answers. "As best we can."

You can't hide the shock that must be written all over your face, and Rex's eyes narrow.

"I'm not heartless," he snaps, stopping and turning to face you, his expression dark. You wince. "I know what's happening. What's being left behind. But right now, we don't have a choice."

"We never do," you mutter, and Rex sighs, his gaze falling to the ground. He tugs his helmet back on and adjusts the seals, the white plastoid reflecting the red of the sunset. "So what's the plan?”

"We can't hold the outer wall. Not against a full assault,” he says, and his shoulders slump. "We need to move onto phase two."

"Right," you murmur, thinking back to the plans the two of you had drawn up hours ago. A backup plan in case the initial assault didn't work. Guerrilla tactics in the streets of Duro. It hadn't seemed likely at the time. "Phase two. I'll contact the others and tell them to set up shop in the east quadrant. That's where the heaviest fighting will be."

Rex nods and leads you through a narrow alley between two buildings, the darkness swallowing you. You can hear the faint echoes of the battle in the distance, the rumble of blasterfire, the clatter of droid feet on stone, the crackle of the flames that are burning throughout the city. 

It’s quieter here, though, muffled by the stone, and you find yourself leaning closer to Rex, seeking his warmth. He glances down at you, but doesn't pull away. But he doesn’t do more than that. Price isn’t far behind you, and a squad of 501st troopers brings up the rear. There are no private conversations for either of you, not anymore. It still hurts, try as you might to push it out of your mind, your heart still sore from the sting of his earlier rejection.

The shadows around you deepen as the storm rolls in, a rumble of thunder echoing in the air. The sky opens up, and the rain begins to fall, cold and harsh and heavy. Somewhere behind you, Price lets out a sigh of relief, and you glance back to see him removing his helmet and running a hand through his damp hair.

"Oh, thank the Force," he mutters, tilting his head back and letting the water wash over his face. "That's much better."

"Don't get too comfortable, Lieutenant," Rex grumbles. "We've got a lot of work to do."

Price sighs, but nods and slips his helmet back on.

You exit onto the main thoroughfare, where a group of clones in gold armor are huddled together, and Rex pulls you to a stop underneath the battered awning of a nearby building. His hand is warm against your back as he takes a step closer to you, his gaze focused on the men ahead of you.

You watch them with a strange sense of detachment, their words sounding muffled and distant, like you're underwater. Like everything is underwater. The rain is falling in sheets now, a thick curtain that obscures the view and the noise and the chaos. A strange sort of numbness settles over you, and you close your eyes and take a deep breath, trying to focus on the steady presence of Rex next to you.

"It's bad," one of them says, and his voice cuts through the haze, his words finally registering in your mind. You shake your head, trying to focus, and the others continue.

"The droids are everywhere," another adds. "We've lost the north tower. There's no way we can hold them off."

Your stomach churns, and you open your mouth to say something, but the words won't come. Your tongue is dry and heavy in your mouth, and all you can manage is a soft whimper. The clone who'd spoken first looks at you and stiffens, and he bows his head in apology.

"Sorry, General," he murmurs. "I didn't mean—"

"No," Rex interrupts, and his grip on your shoulder tightens. You blink and turn to him, taking a shaky breath. "She knows. She's been fighting all day, just like the rest of us. Give her a minute."

He gives your arm a gentle squeeze and lets go, and you watch as he steps toward the clones. You're barely able to keep up as he begins speaking, your thoughts swimming, the voices blending together into a dull roar. All you can think about is the tower, and the men you left behind, and the ones that are still fighting out there, somewhere. Men who are going to die, who are dying right now, and there's nothing you can do about it.

In the year since the war began, you’ve suffered losses. You’ve watched ships explode in the sky and crash to the ground, you've watched your brothers-in-arms fall at your side. And each time, it hurts. But you’ve come to accept the weight of their lives and bear the burden of their sacrifice. Because you have to. Because they deserve no less. But this, today, here, it's different. These were your men. Yours.

You’ve enjoyed the luxury of minimal casualties so far, thanks to the nature of your command and the skill of your troops. You've never lost so many, not in one battle, not like this. It's not right, not fair, and it's more than you can handle. It's too much. Too soon. And you have no idea how to deal with it.

You feel like you're drowning.

Rex is talking, but his words are lost on you, and all you can hear is the roar of blood in your ears. The rain is pounding down harder now, and the wind is whipping around the corner, sending the droplets cascading across the road. You're shivering, your robes soaked and clinging to your body, and your legs are trembling. A wave of exhaustion washes over you, and you lean heavily against the building behind you, struggling to remain upright.

There’s a sudden sharp pinch in your neck, and the world lurches back into focus with a jolt.

You hadn’t even noticed Wise was among the group surrounding Rex, and it seems he took advantage of your distraction to inject you with a stimulant. Immediately, you're struck by a surge of energy, the fatigue and confusion banished from your mind, and the numbness begins to fade.

You're not sure if that's a good thing.

“Ow,” you complain, slapping a hand over the injection site. You scowl and rub your neck, turning to face the medic. "Was that really necessary?"

"Yes," Wise retorts dryly as he tucks the spent stim into his pocket. "Because you weren't paying attention. Sir."

"I'm fine," you mutter, brushing him off. You ignore the dubious look he shoots your direction and turn back to the others. Rex is gesturing to a holomap projected above his gauntlet, his lips moving quickly as he lays out the plan. You watch him, a dull ache forming in your chest, and you reach up to rub your eyes.

"The droids are coming from all directions," he explains, his finger tracing a path along the glowing blue map. Several spots ping red, and the area beyond the gate is still glowing a violent crimson, the enemy forces spreading out across the field. "They've pushed past our defenses and are already inside the city. The shield is holding, but if they manage to reach the control center, it won't be for much longer."

"If we lose the shield..." another clone begins, trailing off, the rest of the statement hanging in the air between the five of you. If the shield fails, the entire planet will be exposed, and the droids will have free reign to do as they please. There's no telling how many ships are in orbit, fighting against your naval forces. If they make it to the surface, it's over.

"We can't let that happen," Rex says firmly, and the clones nod, their expressions grim. He points at a spot on the map, and a series of blue dots appear. "We'll divide into three groups and hold the perimeter. If we can keep the droids contained and out of the inner city, we'll have a chance."

"Yes, sir," one of the clones nods, his tone somber. You can tell they're all thinking the same thing. The odds aren't exactly in your favor. But none of them hesitate.

"How are you doing?" you murmur to Wise as the conversation continues around you. He grunts and shrugs his shoulders.

"Been better," he admits. "This damn storm is messing with my joints."

"Yeah," you reply with a weak chuckle, "I know the feeling."

Wise grunts again and lays his hand gently on your shoulder, his thumb stroking the fabric in a slow, soothing pattern. You lean into it, grateful for the comfort, and close your eyes. A flash of lightning lights up the street, followed by a deafening crack of thunder. The rain is coming down harder now, and you can feel the ground shaking beneath your feet.

"How are you holding up, cabur'ika?" he asks, his voice dropping so that only you can hear him underneath the rain. You give a half-hearted shrug, your eyes still closed. He sighs. "You did the best you could."

"Did I?" you ask, your voice hoarse, and he hums quietly, a low, comforting noise.

"Yes," he replies simply. You swallow hard, the lump in your throat threatening to choke you, and lean into him. "You did.”

"I don't think it was enough."

"It's never enough," Wise murmurs, his tone resigned, his fingers tracing lazy circles on your arm. "Not in this war. Not for any of us."

"You're a real ray of sunshine, aren't you?" you snort, and he chuckles, the warm rumble vibrating through his chest and into yours.

"You're no picnic yourself, kid," he shoots back, his voice light, teasing. You crack a weak smile. "But I've seen a lot worse. You did good today."

"Thanks," you mutter, opening your eyes to glance at him. He gives you a tired smile and pats your arm.

"Anytime," he says as he pulls away. "Don't die out there, okay?"

"I'll do my best." 

You straighten, the cold air stinging your skin where his arm had been. Rex is waiting for you, his expression unreadable behind his helmet, but you can feel his concern through the Force. He nods at Wise, who returns the gesture before turning and marching off.

"Give Kix a hug for me," you call after him, and he throws a hand up in acknowledgement. The two of you watch him walk away, the rain streaming down his armor in rivulets, and you let out a soft sigh. "Any word from the fleet?"

"Not yet," he answers. "Long range is still down."

"That's not good," you mutter, and he nods in agreement. "Ahsoka should have found the signal jammer by now. Something's wrong."

"She'll be fine," he assures you, though the words ring hollow. "I'm sure she'll check in soon, but for now, we have to assume we're on our own. We have to make do."

"Make do," you echo, and the words taste bitter on your tongue. You swallow hard and shake your head, trying to clear the worry and frustration from your mind. "Right. We can do that."

"We have to," he reminds you, his voice heavy with resignation

You fall into silence, watching the men around you as they prepare for the fight ahead. The rain continues to pour down, and you can see flashes of lightning in the distance, hear the thunder rolling overhead. You close your eyes and try to relax, centering yourself and focusing on the here and now.

The rain is soothing, the steady drumming of the droplets against the pavement and rooftops a calming white noise that helps you think. You breathe in the damp air, letting the chill seep into your bones, and you let the Force flow through you, your senses reaching out across the city.

There's no denying the darkness here, a shadow looming over the battle, but it's different somehow. Sharper. Colder. Like ice, slicing through the air, leaving a trail of death and destruction in its wake. A chill runs down your spine. Something's not right.

You let out a strangled gasp as a burst of pain lances through your chest, a sudden, searing agony that feels like a vibroblade being driven between your ribs. Your hand instinctively clutches at your chest, and you double over, struggling to take in a breath. A scream rips from your throat as the pain intensifies, and it's only a pair of arms around you that keeps you from collapsing completely.

"General!" Rex's voice cuts through the haze, his hands gripping your shoulders tightly. "General, can you hear me?"

You can barely see him, your vision clouded by tears, but you manage a weak nod. Your throat is tight, and you can't find the words, the pain in your chest too great to form a coherent sentence.

"What's wrong? Are you hurt?" he asks, and you shake your head, struggling to take a breath. Your eyes squeeze shut as you force yourself to pull back, shuttering off the pain as best you can. "Medic!"

"No," you manage, gasping for air, your heart hammering in your chest. "Not mine."

"Not...yours," Rex repeats, his grip loosening slightly, though he doesn't let go. "Whose, General? What's going on?"

"We're being attacked! Droids coming in from underground!"

Your eyes open at the sound of Snap's voice, and the pain vanishes as quickly as it came, replaced by a cold numbness. You pull away from Rex, his hands sliding down your arms and falling away, and you stagger forward a step, your eyes darting around the city.

"We can't hold them off! They're everywhere," Snap shouts into the comms, his voice laced with fear and desperation. "Requesting backup!"

"They're inside," you murmur, and the horror of the realization hits you like a punch to the gut. The droids are already here. They're in the city. And you didn't see it coming. How could you not have seen it? "I have to go."

"Whoa, hold on a second," Rex says, catching your arm and pulling you back. "You're not going anywhere. I can't let you run off alone."

"I'm not alone," you snap, and the anger in your voice surprises even yourself. Rex flinches, his grip loosening, and you pull free. "They need me, Rex."

"And we need you," he counters, his tone firm. "Please. We'll send reinforcements. Just wait until—"

"They won't get there in time," you interrupt as you take a step away from him, the pain in your chest returning, burning hot and bright. More of your men are being cut down, and you can feel their deaths as keenly as if they were your own. You can't stay here and do nothing, not while your brothers are in danger. "This is what the Force has been warning me about, and I'm not about to let it happen. I have to go."

Rex takes a step toward you, his hand outstretched. You can feel his worry, and you hate yourself for causing it, but this is bigger than the two of you. This is about saving lives. You can't let your feelings, or his, get in the way of that.

His hand stills suddenly, and you can feel his surprise when he registers the weight of the Force pushing back against him. It's gentle, but unyielding, a wall of energy that stops him in his tracks. He tries to move, his boots digging into the dirt, and a sharp gasp escapes his lips. His helmet turns toward you, his visor reflecting your grim expression, and the two of you stare at each other. 

Then, with a small, almost imperceptible shake of his head, Rex steps back.

"Price," you say, looking over your shoulder as you step out onto the street, "come with me."

"Right behind you, sir," he says, jogging over to you, his blaster clutched tightly in his hand. 

You look back at Rex, the guilt of what you've done twisting your heart into knots, but you know it's for the best. He'd never have let you leave, and he'd have followed. He can't, not this time. You can't let that happen. If you're going to prevent this vision from coming true, he needs to stay here.

He has to survive.

"Rex," you murmur, the words sticking in your throat.

He gives a curt nod, his hands balled into fists, and his voice is strained as he replies. "Go. Hurry. Be safe."

You hesitate for a second, wanting to say more, but the words won't come. With a heavy sigh, you turn and run, and Price follows close behind.

You sprint down the street, heading in the direction of the building housing the generator. Price struggles to keep up with your pace, and you find yourself cursing his lack of speed. It's not his fault, really, but the adrenaline pumping through your veins is pushing you faster and faster, and the urge to go, go, go is overwhelming. You need to get to Snap and the others, and you need to stop whatever's happening. Before it's too late.

"What's happening?" Price pants as the two of you duck behind a piece of rubble, taking a second to catch your breath. "How are they getting in?"

"They must've drilled a tunnel or something," you mutter. "We'll have to find a way to seal it."

"Oh," he nods and swallows. He peeks around the corner and shuffles nervously. “Well, about that..."

"Price," you sigh and close your eyes for a second, pushing down the urge to scream. "Please don't tell me there's another problem."

"Um..." He shrugs. "Okay. No problem."

You groan, your hands clenching into fists. "Seriously?"

"Well, I wouldn't say there's a problem per se," he hedges. You glare at him, and he sighs, ducking his head. "It's just...the maintenance droid had been spending a lot of time in the lower levels. We left it alone because we assumed it was just cleaning or fixing things, but..."

"But now you're wondering if it was opening a secret door for the Separatists," you finish.

"Yeah," Price agrees with a wince.

"Great," you mutter.

You shake your head and peer around the edge of the rubble. A squad of droids are marching down the street toward the building, their weapons drawn. You grit your teeth and reach out with the Force, yanking the nearest one into the air. 

The droid flies across the street and slams into a wall, and the others turn and fire blindly in your direction. A few movements of your blades to send their bolts back to them, and a few well-placed shots from Price have the squad reduced to a pile of sparking metal and wires in the middle of the road.

"Come on," you say and take off toward the generator building. "We can't waste any more time."

"We’re getting cut to pieces down here!" Screwball shouts over your comm as the two of you dart down the street, dodging the stray blaster fire from the remaining droids. "They're everywhere."

"Any time you wanna show up and save us, General, feel free," Snap adds, barely audible over the sound of blasterfire. "We can't hold this position much longer."

"ETA two minutes," you call into your comm. "Don't die."

"That's the plan," Screwball grunts.

Price follows close behind you, his breathing labored as he tries to keep up with your pace. Water splashes up around you as your boots hit the pavement, and the droids continue to fire on you, the bolts whizzing past your head as they chase after you and Price. The wind is picking up, whistling in your ears, and the rain pelts against your skin with increasing intensity.

"This way," Price yells over the storm, and he turns down a narrow alley, leading you away from the main road. 

As you round the corner, you're nearly blinded by the light coming from the shield generator, the red glow of the machine bathing the street in a hellish hue. The front doors underneath its arch are open, and you can see streaks of blasterfire flying back and forth inside, a small squad of men crouched in front and firing into the room.

You duck behind the nearest building and creep closer, the pair of you hugging the wall. You peer around the corner as a barrage of blaster bolts flies out the doors and into the street, and you wince, ducking back and narrowly avoiding the spray.

"Screwball!" you shout into your comm. "Can you hear me?"

"Loud and...clear, General," Screwball pants.

"How many are there?"

"Enough to be a problem," he replies, and you grimace, glancing at Price. ”You coming...any time soon...sir?"

"I’m outside," you shout back. "I need to know what we're dealing with."

"Droidekas," Screwball grunts. "More of those—fuck!—commandos too.”

”More cortosis, sir,” Dash chimes in with a burst of static. "Don’t let them near your lightsabers!"

"Thanks for the tip," you mutter. "Hold tight, we’re coming in.”

"Roger."

Another round of bolts flies out the doors, your hand balling into a fist as a body falls through the threshold, crashing into the street with a sickening thud. You clench your jaw, fighting the urge to leap into action, and instead you reach out with the Force, pulling the fallen clone to your side.

The limp form slides across the ground, coming to rest at your feet. Price lets out a choked gasp, and you glance at him to see him shaking his head.

"One of yours?" you ask, knowing the answer.

"Yes, sir," he mutters.

You close your eyes and swallow the lump forming in your throat, willing yourself to remain calm. You can feel the rage boiling inside you, a dark cloud spreading through your mind, and the urge to kill the droids is almost overwhelming. You force the emotions back down, burying them deep, and you take a deep breath and look at Price.

"I'm sorry," you tell him, and he nods his thanks. "Can you tell me his name?"

"It's Rivet," he replies, his voice cracking slightly.

"Okay," you say quietly, and you turn to the fallen clone, crouching down and gently turning him over onto his back. There’s no point in checking for a pulse. You let out a sigh and bow your head, saying a silent prayer for the fallen soldier, then you straighten and meet Price's gaze. "I need you to cover me."

"Of course, sir," he says without hesitation, his shoulders squaring. 

The pair of you peer around the corner. There's a break in the firing, though you can hear grunts and metal bodies falling inside the room, and you reach out, trying to get a sense of the enemy's numbers. A dozen. Two. Three. Four. It's hard to tell. Their signatures are masked by the sheer number of droids in the area. But there's at least a handful of commandos, and they're armed with cortosis.

"You ready?" you ask.

"Ready, sir."

"Good." You ignite your lightsabers, the yellow and green glow cutting through the haze of red. "Let's go."

The pair of you race toward the entrance, and the four clones tucked outside scramble to their feet and fire at the approaching droids, providing a brief reprieve for the two of you as you duck and roll inside the room. The droidekas turn and open fire, and Price drops behind a table, using the metal as a shield just as a volley of bolts heads in your direction.

"Get down!" one of the clones shouts as a barrage of blaster fire from above rains down on the droids.

You flatten yourself to the floor and press your back against the wall, ducking out of the way. Two poppers roll across the floor with precision and detonate, and the shields around the droidekas flicker long enough for one of the clones to blast the weakened panels, rendering the machines useless.

"Clear!" 

You stand, scanning the room for any remaining droids. They’re coming from the halls, and your men are holding them back, but they're struggling. One falls to a droideka's attack, and you lash out with the Force, shoving a commando away before it can land a finishing blow. The clone scrambles up and returns to the fight.

“Where’s Snap?” you shout, deflecting the shots aimed at you, keeping them from reaching the others.

“Upstairs,” one of them calls back.

You nod and take off, sprinting toward the staircase at the far end of the room.

"Wait! General!" Price cries.

"Stay with the others!"

You don't wait for a response, rushing up the steps, your boots echoing on the metal. As you near the top, a blast from above strikes the wall beside your head, and you duck, barely avoiding the shrapnel. The doors to the generator room fly open with a wave of your hand, and you slide inside, deflecting the blaster bolts headed your way. 

The scene that greets you is chaos.

Bodies of fallen clones litter the floor, wires sparking and panels smoldering as smoke fills the air. You barely have time to dodge as a blade arcs through the air, barely missing your neck. You roll and come up swinging, slicing through the commando droid's leg before stabbing it through the chest, burning through its circuits.

The droid's glaive falls at your feet, and you kick it aside, the weapon skidding across the floor and stopping at a pair of familiar boots. You glance up as Snap grabs the weapon, turning and lobbing it at a droid coming up behind you. The metal connects with a sharp crack, and you spin, slashing the creature into pieces.

"Snap!"

"Sir!"

"Nice throw," you call over the noise.

"Thanks," Snap replies. "Where's Price?"

“Here!” the lieutenant shouts as he ducks into the room, firing on the droids that are pouring in from the lower levels. He slams his fist on the control panel for the door, and it slides shut, blocking off the horde.

“I told you to stay put,” you grunt as you shove a droid into a wall.

"Couldn't," he says as he shoots another one. "You needed me."

You shoot him a disbelieving look over your shoulder, then sigh and shake your head. "We'll talk about this later.”

The droids fall in a blur of motion, their metal bodies collapsing to the floor with a series of clangs. In a few minutes, the rest of the droids scattered throughout the room join the bodies on the floor, and you let out a sigh, wiping the sweat from your brow.

“That door isn’t going to hold long,” Snap warns as he throws away the glaive he's holding. He picks up his fallen blaster rifle and checks it for damage. Satisfied, he nods. "I'd give it ten minutes, tops."

"Then we'll have to make them count," you reply. You can hear the shouts and screams of your men below. The occasional blaster shot echoes up the stairs, and Dash flinches with each one as he pops up from cover. You can feel the weight of their losses through the Force, but the pain in your chest eases slightly at the sight of him alive and unharmed. "Dash, where’s Screwball?”

"He was helping some of the men upstairs, last I saw him," Dash replies, making his way toward the generator’s control panel to inspect the damage.

"And the others?"

Dash glances over his shoulder, and he and Snap share a look before they both shake their heads. 

You feel your stomach drop as the realization sinks in, your gaze following the trail of bodies and blood splattered across the floor. The message is clear.

They're all gone. Fuse, Streaker, and the rest, all of Price’s men. All of them. Gone.

A chill runs down your spine, and the room suddenly feels colder. A shiver courses through you, and you wrap your arms around yourself, struggling to push down the fear and anger building inside you. You're so tired. Tired of losing men, of fighting, of death.

It would be so easy.

So simple.

You could just...let go. Let yourself fall, surrender to the darkness, give in to the rage and the pain and the anger. You could make them pay, all of them. The droids, the Separatists, everyone who had taken your men from you. You could bring their whole world crashing down around them. They wouldn't even see it coming.

"General?" Dash asks. His voice is distant, muffled by the ringing in your ears. "Are you alright?"

No.

"Fine," you answer automatically. You blink and take a breath, and the haze clears, the anger fading along the edges of your vision. Your fingers tighten around the hilts of your lightsabers, and you force yourself to deactivate them and clip them back to your belt. You take another breath, and the darkness retreats further, allowing you to see the helmets watching you. "What's the status on the shield?"

Dash pulls up the display, his fingers running over the keys, and you step close to peer over his shoulder. You can feel Snap’s gaze boring into the side of your head as he studies you, but you ignore him, your attention focused on the flickering blue screen.

"Still up," Dash reports. "But I don't know how much longer this thing will hold against a direct assault. If it goes critical, we're going to be in a lot more trouble."

"So no pressure," Snap mutters.

"Yeah, no pressure," you agree with a sigh. “We’re just going to have to hold the line a little while longer."

“Just the four of us?” Price asks incredulously as he looks at the small group gathered around the generator. He gestures toward the door, which is starting to bend inward from the droids outside, the metal screeching in protest. "Against that?"

“Five of us,” you correct.

“Who—“

There's a loud bang as a droid body slams onto the ground in front of you, and Price yelps, stumbling back. The four of you look up to see Screwball on the catwalk above, and he gives you a cheeky salute before jumping over the edge and landing beside the others. He rolls his shoulders and shakes his head, his gaze landing on the damaged door.

"This place is a mess," he mutters as he kicks aside a broken droid. "Sorry I'm late."

"How the hell are you still alive?" Dash exclaims with a laugh, and Screwball chuckles, slapping him on the back.

"Skill. And some luck," he shrugs. He glances around at the fallen bodies and the destroyed equipment. "Guess it wasn't as easy as we thought, huh?"

"No," Dash agrees. "It wasn't."

"It's about to get a lot worse," Snap says, nodding towards the door. You can see the outline of a laser cutter burning through the metal, and the door begins to buckle, a hole forming in the center, the edges glowing red-hot. The five of you raise your weapons and aim at the door, prepared for the worst.

As the first droid enters the room, a barrage of blasterfire meets it, and its body crumples to the floor, smoke rising from its melted frame. The next droid is met with a similar fate, and soon the pile of corpses blocks the door, providing a temporary barrier against the invaders. But you know it won't hold for much longer, and the five of you stand together, preparing for the onslaught that's sure to come.

"We'll hold the line," you say, and the others nod, their expressions grim. "We've handled worse. And I don't plan on losing today."

"General," Rex's voice comes over the comm. "What's your status?"

"Shield's still up," you reply. "And we've got some company. The generator is holding, but not for much longer. Any word from Ahsoka?"

"No," he replies, and you can hear the frustration in his voice. "Still no comms."

You ignite your sabers as a group of commando droids kick aside the bodies and step through the hole in the door. They're fast, dodging and weaving between your attacks, and you have to use the Force to block their blows and push them back. You're barely able to keep up with their speed, and one of them nearly manages to get a strike in before a blaster bolt takes its head clean off.

"We're taking heavy fire here," Rex informs you as a droid rushes forward, its blade coming down in a deadly arc. 

You bring up your shoto to parry the attack, and you wince as it shorts out immediately, sparks flying as the blade sinks back into the hilt. You quickly switch to your other lightsaber, swinging it up and catching the commando in the chest, slicing it cleanly in half.

"Unfortunately, so are we," you grumble. You reach out and yank the next droid's blade from its grasp, sending it flying across the room. "The droids are coming from all sides, and there's a tunnel that leads straight here. They're trying to take down the shield."

"A tunnel?" Rex repeats, and you hear a barrage of blasterfire over the comm, a muffled curse following the noise. "Damn it. There must be an entrance on the other side of the city."

"We're pinned down up here," you inform him, grunting as you duck under a blade aimed at your head. You spin and lash out with a kick, catching the droid in the chest and knocking it back. "They're getting past our defenses, and we can't hold out much longer. You need to find the entrance and seal it off."

"Copy that," he says, his voice tight. "Good luck, General. Stay alive. I'm not done yelling at you yet."

"Noted," you mutter, and the line goes dead.

The five of you fight against the seemingly never-ending wave of droids, your movements becoming more and more desperate as the battle rages on. Somewhere along the way, you lose your lightsaber, and you're forced to rely on the Force alone, pulling blasters and glaives and even a droid body to throw at the commandos. You can't tell how much time has passed, the only thing keeping you going being the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the need to keep your men safe.

Your head is throbbing, and the ache in your chest has returned, a sharp pain that radiates through your body. As much faith as you have in the Force, it’s not meant to be tapped into this much for this long, and you can feel your body weakening with every movement you make. You’re running out of energy, and time.

"Sir, I have a bad feeling about this!" Price calls as he shoots down another commando. "How are they still coming?"

"I don't know!" you shout, reaching out and stopping a droid midair before throwing it back into the hoarde. You wipe the sweat from your brow and shake your head, trying to clear the fog from your brain

You all yelp as a blaster bolt slams into the generator, the machine sputtering and sparks flying. A series of alarms begin to blare, and Dash curses and slides under a droid's swing. He rushes to the control panel, typing furiously, before he slams a fist down on the panel, silencing the alarms.

"This thing is a piece of shit," he hisses as he scans the readings. "We can't take another hit like that."

"So don't," Snap replies, shoving a commando out of the room and back into the hallway. "We need a plan."

"What happened?" Rex demands over the comm, his voice frantic. "We heard alarms."

"We're fine," you reply quickly. You catch a glimpse of Dash frantically working the console, his fingers flying over the keys, and you glance away, swallowing the lump in your throat. "For now. The shield is holding, but we're surrounded."

"What's the status on the generator?"

"Bad," you say as a commando slashes at your arm, its blade slicing into your skin. You grab its arm and wrench it free from its socket, kicking it in the chest and knocking it into a group of droids. "Really, really bad."

"Can you repair it?"

"Maybe," you mutter, glancing over at Dash, who gives you a thumbs up. You return the gesture. "If we had the time."

The droids continue to press the attack, and you're pushed back, your boots sliding against the floor as the five of you retreat. You duck behind the large column holding up the generator, and you slump against the cool metal, your heart pounding in your chest.

"Just focus on the tunnel," you call into the comm. "We'll figure out something here."

"Understood," Rex replies, his tone somber. You hear him call orders, and the men respond in the background, but you don't catch the words, the pounding in your head drowning everything out. "Just...stay alive. Please."

"That's the plan," you tell him, your voice cracking. "But Rex, if we can't—"

"Don't," he snaps. "Just...don't."

"Okay," you breathe, leaning your head against the column. You close your eyes and concentrate on your breathing, trying to block out the noise of the battle and the voices of your men. The only thing you can think of is the darkness that's been following you. The shadows that have haunted your dreams and clouded your thoughts. If you could use it somehow...

No. You promised Rex you wouldn't give in. You can't do it. You won't do it.

"Any ideas?" you ask the others. They look at you, their expressions grim, and the silence is answer enough.

"Nothing good," Screwball sighs, and you let out a low, humorless laugh.

"Yeah," you agree, shaking your head. "Nothing good."

"What about a distraction?" Snap suggests, his voice strained, and you turn to see him creeping toward one of the security consoles. He types quickly and pulls up a schematic of the building. "If we could draw their attention away from the generator..."

"They'd just come right back," Price argues. "There's no point."

"Not if they were focused on something else," Snap replies, pointing to the screen. "Look, there're ventilation shafts leading out of here. Someone could climb through, drop down on 'em, and start shooting."

"And get killed," Price counters. "Whoever does this would be sacrificing themselves."

"I'll do it," Screwball offers without hesitation.

"No, I'll do it," Snap says, turning to face the others. "I'm the fastest and the best shot. It has to be me."

"But," Price starts to protest.

"I can't ask anyone else to do this," Snap cuts him off. "I'm the captain. This is my responsibility."

"You're not asking," Screwball growls, and he moves closer. "I’m going too. Someone has to watch your six."

Snap sighs and shakes his head. "Fine.”

"We'll stay here," you tell them. "And keep the droids occupied. Dash, do what you can to keep the shield up."

"On it," he nods and heads for the controls.

"You ready?" Snap asks Screwball, and the other man gives him a nod, rolling his shoulders. You all take a deep breath, sharing a long look, before you bow your head.

"May the Force be with us all," you murmur.

Screwball hesitates, looking from you to Snap and back again, and then he's throwing himself at you, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He yanks Dash in by the collar, and Snap joins the pile, squeezing hard. You gasp and wheeze, struggling to breathe, but the men are relentless, and you're left standing awkwardly in the center, unsure what to do.

"You guys are crushing me," you protest weakly.

"Just deal with it, sir," Snap chuckles, his helmet pressed to the back of your head. Dash just squeezes tighter, and you let out a shaky laugh and relax into it, your arms pinned to your sides.

"Get off me," Price hisses as Screwball tries to pull him into the huddle, and he squirms, smacking his helmet. "What are you doing? Stop hugging!"

"It's called team spirit," Screwball snorts and releases Price, who stumbles back and adjusts his armor, letting out a huff. "You better get used to it, kid. You're stuck with us."

"I don't need any—"

Price's words are cut off as a blaster bolt nearly clips his helmet, and the clones dive for cover, pulling him out of sight. You raise your hand and lash out with the Force, flinging several of the droids into the wall. But more keep coming, and you're soon forced to fall back, taking shelter behind one of the consoles. 

Snap crouches opposite you, and when your gazes meet, you give him a nod. He returns the gesture and checks his blaster rifle before he holds up a hand, counting down on his fingers. 

As the final finger goes down, you lift two droids off the ground, flinging them back into the crowd behind them. Snap jumps out from behind his cover, and Screwball follows, the pair of them shooting as they go.

They scramble up the staircase to the catwalk, and Price covers them, blasting a hole through the chest of a droid that was about to intercept. The men disappear from view, and you hope against hope that they'll be able to make it, that their plan will work.

The next few minutes pass by in a blur of blaster fire and droids, and you lose track of time, focused only on fighting and surviving. Your muscles are screaming, and your vision is starting to blur. You can't keep this up for much longer. You're not sure you'll last the hour.

You duck and roll as a blaster bolt flies over your head, and you reach out, plucking a droid off the ground. With a twist of your hand, it crumples in on itself, its metal body twisting with a groan in your grasp.

Your eyes widen, and you gasp, letting the droid fall to the floor. Your hands are trembling, and you clench them into fists, trying to steady yourself. That...that wasn't you. You didn't do that. It wasn't you.

But there's no denying the power you felt. The darkness is swirling inside you, filling your veins with an unnatural cold. And it wants out. It's calling to you, begging to be set free, and the thought of all that energy, all that raw, unfettered strength is almost too much. Too tempting.

A droid lands beside you and tries to slash at you with its blade, but you dodge and reach out, gripping it with the Force. Your fingers curl around its throat, the metal buckling and bending as your grip tightens. You can feel its circuits struggling to function, and a small, dark part of you relishes the sensation, reveling in its struggle. The rest of you is horrified.

With a scream, you throw the droid across the room, its body slamming into the wall with a sickening crunch. You can hear its systems struggling, the lights blinking and sputtering, and it finally goes still. You stare at the motionless droid, panting heavily, and you shake your head. 

No. This isn't who you are. It can't be. You're a Jedi. You're better than this. This is just a test, a challenge, and you'll rise above it. You have to.

"Dash!" 

You spin on your heel just in time to see a droid slice down on the young clone's side. His scream pierces the air, and the blood drains from your face, a wave of terror and fury washing over you. The droid advances on him, its blade raised, and Price fires, the bolt taking its head off.

Price runs to his fallen brother and helps him up, and Dash immediately pushes away from him, stumbling toward the generator.

"No," Dash groans. His hand is pressed against his side, the blood seeping through his fingers, and he leans heavily against the machine. "No, no, no, no..."

Price is by his side in an instant, helping him stay upright, and you lash out with the Force, sending a trio of droids flying into the nearest wall. Their metal bodies clatter to the ground, and you take the opportunity to join the pair, crouching beside Dash.

"Let me see," you demand, and Dash removes his hand, wincing as the fabric pulls away from the wound. You wince as well, sucking in a breath through your teeth. The blade had sliced cleanly through the side of his stomach, and the injury is deep, blood pouring from the wound. "It's bad, but I think you'll live."

"It doesn't matter," Dash pants, pushing away from the pair of you. He slumps against the generator, his breath coming in sharp, painful gasps. "Bomb. There's...there's a bomb."

"What?" Price asks. "Where?"

"Stuck to the generator," he coughs and points. "I need to...to disable it."

You follow his gesture, and your heart drops into your stomach when you see the device attached to the machine's frame. It's blinking a series of red lights, and you have no doubt that it's counting down, ready to explode at any minute.

"We need to move," Price says.

"I can do it," Dash insists. "Just need...need time."

"We'll buy you as much as we can," you assure him, and you reach out, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Just stay calm, okay? Focus on the task, and the Force will guide you."

"Right," he nods and looks down, taking a deep breath. "Yeah. I can do this."

You squeeze his shoulder and stand, moving to Price's side. The lieutenant has taken cover behind a console, and his gaze is locked on the droid forces still entering the room, a dozen at a time. They're pushing through the doors, a seemingly never-ending flow of metal bodies, and you can tell the two of you aren't going to be able to hold out much longer.

"We're not gonna last like this," Price mutters, echoing your thoughts. "This was a suicide mission from the start."

"We had to try," you say softly.

"At least the others made it," he grunts. "Small mercies."

You sigh and raise your hands, lashing out with the Force and pushing a group of droids back. They slam into the wall, and the ones behind them scramble to get out of the pile, allowing Price the chance to take them out.

"Yeah," you agree, watching the carnage unfold. You know it's only a matter of time before they break through your defenses and overwhelm you. "Small mercies."

"Sir, can you hear me? We've located the tunnel entrance," Rex reports, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. "There's a small garrison guarding it, but we're pushing through."

"Good," you breathe. "That's good."

"What's the status on the shield?"

"Not great," you reply. "We're...we're doing the best we can, but..."

Your words trail off as you look over your shoulder at Dash. He's still working on the device, pulling wires and disconnecting parts. But he's clearly struggling, his movements sluggish, and you can see the blood starting to color the white of his armor.

"But what?" Rex demands.

"But I'm not sure it'll be enough," you admit. "Rex, the droids are everywhere. We're trapped, and we're running out of time."

There's a pause, and you can practically feel the weight of the words hanging between the two of you. You take a shaky breath and close your eyes, willing yourself to stay calm, to not let the fear and anger overwhelm you. But it's no use. Your heart is pounding, and the darkness is threatening to consume you, the shadows in your mind threatening to drag you down.

"If I don't make it—"

"Don't," Rex interrupts. "You're gonna make it."

"Rex," you say softly. "Just listen, please."

"No," he replies, his tone harsh. "I'm not gonna lose you. I'm not losing anyone else today. Do you understand me?"

You swallow the lump in your throat, tears stinging your eyes, and you press your lips together, struggling to keep your emotions in check. It's all too much, and you know you're barely holding it together. You don't have the strength to fight him, not now.

"Yeah," you reply, your voice cracking. "I...I understand."

"Good," Rex says. "Now hold on, I'm coming."

The comm goes dead, and you let out a sigh, leaning against the column and closing your eyes. It only lasts a second before a commando droid is bearing down on you, and you barely have time to react before it slices across your chest, scraping against your plate and catching the skin of your arm.

You hiss in pain as your eyes snap open, the dark cloud enveloping your mind, and you reach out and wrap your fingers around the droid's throat, squeezing. The metal begins to bend and crack, and a wave of dark satisfaction washes over you, the cold emptiness inside you spreading like ice through your veins. You can feel the darkness taking control, and for once, you don't try to stop it.

The droid struggles in your grasp, its limbs flailing as it tries to free itself, but you just tighten your grip, relishing the power surging through you. You can feel the Force flowing through your fingertips, the pressure building in your skull, and you can sense every cell, every fiber, every molecule in the room. It's a heady feeling, and it's only strengthened by the anger and frustration coursing through you.

You release your grip and watch as the droid collapses, its systems sputtering and sparking. You turn and throw out your hand, and a blast of energy erupts from your palm, striking the cluster of droids advancing on you. Their bodies crumple to the floor, and you step forward, your boots splashing in the pool of blood spreading across the floor.

Before you can make it further, the beeping of the bomb reaches your ears, and you turn to see Dash struggling to disconnect the device. His fingers are stained red, and his hands are shaking, but he's trying, fighting to disarm the weapon before it explodes.

"No," you whisper, your heart breaking. You know it’s too late now, the timer almost run down. "Dash, you have to get out of here."

"Almost...got it," he pants. "Almost..."

You look back down at Dash, then at the doorway where droids are trickling in, slower this time. The sounds of Snap and Screwball flanking them on the other side reach your ears, the pair of them yelling and shouting as they take down the droids. You can feel their exhaustion and determination, their drive to complete their mission, and you know that they won't give up, that they'll do whatever it takes to hold the line.

But is it worth the cost? Is it worth the risk? Are you willing to sacrifice everything, sacrifice the people you care about, for a cause that may not even succeed? For a planet that may be lost anyway?

Your eyes find Dash again. His fingers falter as he struggles to disconnect the last wire, and you know, deep down, that this isn't right. That none of this is right. That it never has been.

The darkness within you recedes, and a cold acceptance washes over you, weighing you down. You can't continue like this. You can't continue to sacrifice the lives of your men, can't continue to put them in harm's way for a cause that seems increasingly futile. You have to stop this. You have to do the right thing.

You take a deep breath, and the resolve settles deep in your chest, a heavy stone in the pit of your stomach.

"Get away from the generator.”

Dash freezes and looks up at you. "What?"

"Get away from the generator," you repeat, raising your voice. "Now!"

"I'm almost done," he insists, and his gaze flickers back to the device. "I can do this. I just need more time."

"There is no time," you snap, and you reach out, using the Force to yank him away from the generator and drag him toward you. He cries out, and you flinch, hating yourself for the pain you're causing him, but you know you can't let him continue. "It's going to explode. We have to get out of here."

"No," Dash chokes out. "I can't. I won't leave. I have to—"

He gasps as you wrap your arms around him, dragging him to his feet and pulling him toward the exit. His hands reach for the generator, trying to get away from you, but his injuries have left him weakened, and he can't break free from your grasp.

"Sir, I can't leave," he pleads. "Please, I have to—"

"We're going home," you interrupt, your voice firm. You won't let him throw his life away, not for this. Not for something that's not worth the cost. "All of us."

"But the shield—"

"The shield is already failing," you tell him. "The bomb is going to go off anyway. At least we can live to fight another day."

He hesitates a moment, but you feel the fight leave him, and his shoulders slump as he gives in. You adjust your grip, holding him upright, and the pair of you stumble toward the exit, dodging the shots aimed at you. Price runs ahead of you, trying best he can to provide cover, and the three of you manage to make it back into the hallway, where Snap and Screwball are still fighting.

"We're leaving!" you shout. "Fall back!"

“What?” Snap asks, his head whipping around. He stiffens when he catches sight of Dash’s injured form and quickly turns, firing a shot over his shoulder as he joins the group.

"Go," you command, and the five of you start moving down the hallway. The droids are in disarray now, confused by the sudden retreat, and the men quickly put distance between them. "Now!"

The five of you run through the hallways, your footsteps echoing off the walls. The blasterfire continues, but you keep your head down, focusing only on getting out. You can feel the energy gathering around the bomb, a pressure building in the back of your mind as the timer winds down. You're not sure if it'll even matter at this point. If you get far away or stay close, the blast will surely be enough to kill all of you.

But you have to try.

"Come on!" Price shouts, pushing you forward.

"Go!" Snap orders.

You run down the hall as fast as you can, the droids hot on your heels, and your lungs burn, your muscles screaming for relief. Dash tries to keep up as best he can, but he's still unsteady on his feet, and he stumbles, nearly falling before you grab him and yank him upright.

"Stay with me, soldier," you growl, and he grunts in response. "I've got you."

You're near the end of the corridor, the exit just ahead, the crackle of lightning shining through and beckoning to you, and the men pick up the pace, desperate to escape.

You're so close.

Just a little further.

And just as you're about to reach the doorway, the explosion hits.

It's like a wave of fire and ice, a pressure so intense that it shatters the very air itself. You drop Dash and throw up your hands, instinctively using the Force to create a barrier around the five of you. But the force of the blast is too great, and the shockwave ripples through the shield, breaking it apart and sending all of you tumbling to the floor.

The air is knocked from your lungs as your body slams into the ground. There's a flash of light, and for a brief, horrifying instant, the world goes white. Rubble falls around you, and the ground beneath your feet is shaking, the walls and ceiling groaning under the strain. Everything is moving too fast, and you're helpless to do anything but lay there, the shock keeping you frozen in place.

And then it's over.

You fall forward and hit the floor with a grunt, the weight of your armor driving the breath from your lungs. You roll onto your back, coughing and gasping for air, and your vision begins to return, the world slowly coming into focus. 

You can see the sky.

It takes you a moment to register the droplets of water on your face, and you watch, stunned, as a cloud passes overhead, the sight of it unimpeded by the haze of smoke or warbling barrier. 

The shield is down

Duro is exposed.

A loud crack rings out in the silence, and a piece of rubble hanging from where the ceiling used to be finally gives and falls. It lands with a thud as a plume of dust billows out, coating the ground and settling over your prone form.

The noise seems to break the spell holding everyone in place. Screwball and Price are the first ones up, stumbling to their feet and reaching for their weapons. Price's helmet is dented, and he tosses it aside with a sigh before reaching for Dash and hauling him upright. The young clone is trembling, his hands shaking as he holds his wounded side, and you can't tell if it's from fear or pain. Maybe both.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry."

"You did good," Price says softly. "You did your best."

"Is he okay?" you ask. Your words come out strained, and you struggle to pull yourself upright, the ache in your body slowing your movements. You can feel bruises forming beneath your armor, the dull throb of a broken rib and the sharp sting of cuts and scrapes. But the pain is nothing compared to the guilt weighing on your heart.

"I'm fine," Dash replies, his voice tight. "I just need a minute."

Price glances at you, and the two of you share a look. You can tell he's thinking the same thing you are. Dash is not fine. None of you are fine.

"Where's the Captain?" Screwball asks, turning to scan the rubble.

You stiffen and scramble to your feet, ignoring the pain shooting through your side. You're about to call out his name, but the words die in your throat as you spot Snap lying on the ground, unmoving. You stumble toward him, your heart racing, and kneel beside his body, your hand shaking as you reach out and touch his arm.

"Snap," you murmur, and he stirs, hissing in pain.

"I'm okay," he breathes, and his hand finds yours, squeezing gently. "Just...just got the wind knocked outta me."

"Good," you sigh, relieved, and he sits up, his movements slow and careful. His helmet is missing, and the hair on the side of his head is singed, a gash bleeding down his cheek. He reaches up and gingerly touches the wound, hissing in pain.

"We should move," Price says, glancing around. "The droids will be here soon."

"I need a medic," Dash groans.

"You need a fucking bacta tank," Screwball mutters. He unbuckles Dash's damaged chest plate and tosses it aside, wincing at the bloody mess underneath. Price pulls a wad of bacta patches and gauze from his pouch, and the two of them try their best to dress the wound, applying pressure and packing the gauze tightly around the cut.

"It's gonna hurt like a bitch, but this should hold until we can get you to the medical tent," Price informs him.

"Better than nothing," Dash mumbles, and his gaze drifts to the charred husk of the generator. A frown pulls at his lips, and you can see the guilt and shame etched into his features. You can't blame him. You're feeling the same thing.

"Hey," you say, nudging him. He looks at you, his eyes wet, and you offer him a sad smile. "Don't. It wasn't your fault."

"If I had just..."

"It wasn't your fault," you repeat. "I made the call. And I don't regret it."

Dash lets out a shaky breath and nods, wiping the tears from his eyes.

"Okay," he says. "Okay."

"We need to go," Price says again. Some of the rubble around you is beginning to shift, and you all share a nervous look. "Now."

You take one last glance at the ruins of the generator before turning away.

"Let's go."

You head outside, and the first thing that hits you is the smell. Burning metal and rubber and chemicals, thick in the air and stinging your eyes. The rain has lessened somewhat, but it's still pouring down, the droplets washing away the dirt and ash clinging to your armor. The smoke is thick, and the ground is littered with the remains of droids and vehicles, some of them still smoldering.

There's a heaviness in the air, and you know it's not just the lingering effects of the explosion. Something is bearing down on you, loss, despair, grief, a sense of finality that settles over your shoulders like a lead weight.

You take a deep breath and let it out slowly as you walk, trying to clear the heaviness from your mind. Your grip tightens around Snap's waist as you trudge down the ramp, and he leans into you, his body heavy and limp. The others are just as battered, their movements sluggish and weary, and you can't bring yourself to push them, not after everything they've been through.

Dash lets out a cry of pain and doubles over, and you stop, turning to see Price half carrying him, the younger clone's arms slung over his shoulder. His face is ashen, and his teeth are clenched, blood seeping through the bandage wrapped around his waist. You can feel the pain radiating off him, and it's enough to make your own injury flare, a stabbing sensation that shoots down your side.

Biting your lip, you reach out with the Force in an attempt to ease his suffering, to give him a measure of relief. But the darkness inside you rises up, fighting against your control, and you struggle, your hand shaking.

"I'm fine," Dash pants, catching your gaze. "I can make it."

You release the Force, and a wave of fatigue washes over you, your head spinning and your limbs feeling leaden. It takes everything you have not to collapse, and you take a deep breath, trying to regain your balance. You and Snap fall back against the side of a building, the pair of you leaning heavily on each other for support.

"Just a little further," Snap whispers.

"Just a little further," you echo.

Snap lets out a pained groan, and his legs give out from under him. You lunge for him, trying to catch him, but your own legs are shaking, and you hit the ground hard. The two of you sit there a moment, staring at each other in silence.

"You okay?" you finally ask.

"I'm fine," he says, and he offers you a weak smile. "Just a little tired."

"Yeah," you agree, and the two of you look up, taking in the chaos around you. "It's been a hell of a day."

The city is in ruins, the buildings crumbling and the streets strewn with debris. The smell of smoke and ash is thick in the air, and the rain has turned to a steady drizzle, coating everything in a fine mist. The battle is still raging on the outskirts of the city, the booming of cannons and blaster fire echoing in the distance. A heavy feeling of dread settles in the pit of your stomach, and you can feel the darkness creeping closer, its tendrils wrapping around you.

You turn, looking up and squinting into the rain. There's nothing but clouds, smoke and shadows. But the feeling doesn't abate. If anything, it gets stronger, a deep, unsettling chill that burrows into your bones and sinks into your very soul.

"Sir, what is it?" Snap asks, his voice strained.

"I don't know," you murmur, your eyes still searching the darkness. "Something's wrong."

"Wrong how?" Price asks, his brow furrowed in confusion. "We're losing. That's about as wrong as it gets."

"No," you shake your head. "Not that. Something else."

"Look, whatever it is, we need to keep moving," Screwball says. He and Price are both supporting Dash, and the young clone is slumped against their shoulders, his eyes fluttering. "This is no place to linger."

"He's right," Snap says, his voice soft. "We should keep going."

You nod and take a deep breath, forcing yourself back onto your feet. Your side is screaming in protest, and you grit your teeth and ignore it, taking Snap's hand and helping him up. But just as you're both about to step forward, the roar of an engine sounds overhead.

You watch as one of your gunships breaks through the clouds high above, circling the area and firing into the streets. You can hear the droids shouting, the clank of their metal feet on the ground as they scramble for cover. The ship moves closer, and the cannon turret spins, aiming directly at the group.

"We're saved," Price breathes.

"We have to get their attention," Screwball says, and he and Price adjust their grip, hoisting Dash up higher. "Come on!"

They move, dragging Dash with them, and you and Snap follow, doing your best to keep up. The gunship continues its descent, and the men wave their hands and shout, trying to get its attention.

"Over here!" Screwball bellows. "We're over here!"

"Hurry!" Price adds.

You're all running now, dodging the wreckage and debris scattered across the street. The ship is getting closer, the whine of its engines deafening, and you can feel the wind from its thrusters kicking up dust and debris.

Snap shifts in your arms as he cranes his neck to get a better look, and his hand suddenly tightens on your shoulder, pulling you to a stop. "What the hell is that?"

"What?" you ask as you tilt your head, trying to follow his gaze. Water drips into your eyes, and you wipe it away, squinting against the rain. "What are you talking about?"

Another flash lights up the sky, and the world is plunged into darkness again, the wind whipping around you. There's a crackle in the air, and the smell of ozone burns your nose. You feel a sudden chill run down your spine, a sense of foreboding that sends a shiver through your body.

"There," Snap says, and he lifts a shaky hand, pointing somewhere beyond the ship. 

At first, you don't see it, but as your eyes adjust, you can make out a bright light, a small speck that seems to be moving through the sky. It's not the Republic ship. It's not a part of the battle. It's something else. Something new. Something...familiar.

"Oh no," you breathe as the realization dawns on you. "No, no, no."

You know that light.

You've seen it before.

And it means only one thing.

Snap lets out a choked gasp, and the others stop their yelling, their attention locked on the approaching object. It's getting closer now, the light flickering as it cuts through the clouds, a strange, high-pitched buzzing filling the air.

"Is that—"

The missile hits the ship circling overhead with a deafening boom, and the sky is lit up by the explosion, the shockwave rocking the ground beneath your feet. The ship is engulfed in flames, and the remains plummet to the earth, crashing into the streets below.

You're frozen in place, unable to move or speak or think, and all you can do is watch as the debris rains down, the fiery wreckage falling to the ground like meteors. The smoke rises, thick and black, obscuring the sky, and the rain does little to extinguish the flames.

"Oh, shit," Screwball whispers, and his voice cracks. More and more lights are beginning to appear, dotting the clouds like stars. "There's...there's dozens of them."

A sickening sense of horror washes over you as you watch the projectiles fly through the sky, the rain streaking past their blazing forms. Your mouth is dry, and your heart is pounding, a dull, throbbing ache pulsing through your body. And you know with a cold certainty that this is what the Force has been warning you about, the visions you've had for months, the future that's always hovered just out of reach.

This is it.

You're here.

And there's nothing you can do to stop it.

"They don't want to take Duro," you say softly, and the words are barely a whisper, carried away by the wind and rain. "They want to erase it."

mando'a translation: cabur = protector/guardian (cabur'ika is essentially little guardian but idk to me it's just a more fond/familiar way of saying it)

taglist: @cyaretra @kindalonleystars @totallyunidentified @lovelytech9902 @frozenreptile @etod @puppetscenario @umekohiganbana @resistantecho @dindjarins1ut @tech-aficionado @aynavaano @burningnerdchild @ihatesaaand @lolwey @chocolatewastelandtriumph @hobbititties @mere-bear @thegreatpipster @lordofthenerds97 @tentakelspektakel @notslaybabes @ayyyy-le-simp @mali-777 @schrodingersraven @megmegalodondon @dangraccoon @heavenseed76 @dreamie411 @sukithebean @bunny7567 @lostqueenofegypt @anything-forourmoony @9902sgirl @jedi-dreea @salaminus @heidnspeak @gottalovehistory @mrcaptainrex @maniacalbooper @burningnerdchild @yoitsjay @julli-bee @moonychicky @sonicrainbooms @dustmusings @webslinger-holland @marchingviolist @deerspringdreams @cw80831

[botaniqueer]

It’s a good development that more and more people are getting disillusioned with Biden because it means people aren’t supporting politicians uncritically despite having voted for them.

The next step to make the most of this is to also realize that Biden isn’t even an outstandingly bad or good president and is average in terms of human rights abuses. What is different about Biden is that COVID, an overly gung-ho US imperialist ally (Netanyahu), and following Trump have made it much harder to control the optics and veneer that the US normally maintains.

He isn’t any more or less genocidal than any of his predecessors or anyone else we’ve personally voted for in the past, but he’s having trouble maintaining the illusion that there is such a thing as a just United States. The curtain that is usually there has been torn by a confluence of events and the machinery that has always been here is easier to see.

[hauntingblue]

The marine ALREADY manipulating the story.... of course

[clownfangs]

-

[ruins-of-gods]

Something that I think Warhammer 40,000 storytellers miss sometimes is the sheer scale of their setting. I mean, don't get me wrong - I love the big, dramatic clashes, the characters you can buy in mini form and their convoluted, interwoven lore, the dramatic combats against unstoppable foes across a thousand ruined worlds. But that's the top of the setting, as it were - the most powerful beings in the universe, all fighting for supremacy. And at ground level, the level of the ordinary person, are so many other stories.

Did you know that a Lunar-class void cruiser has a crew of 95,000? Nearly a hundred thousand people, aboard a spaceship five kilometers long. A city, flying through outer space to wage war. Many of those people are proper trained soldiers, fresh from some academy or veterans of long, grueling campaigns, and many more are pressed into service, begrudgingly laying their lives at their Emperor's feet. But, unless the ship is currently actively involved in a really bloody campaign, most of those people were born aboard that ship. Most of their parents were born aboard it. And their grandparents. And their great-grandparents. Lineages stretching back centuries, so far that the original soldier who came aboard has been forgotten. A lot of those people probably know, on some level, that they're aboard a ship flying through space - but a lot of them probably don't, and I guarantee you almost none of them understand what that means. This ship is their world. To look out the window means madness so often that they avoid it - not that windows are readily available anyway. Most of them probably barely even understand that they're fighting. All they know is that when the readouts on their analog instruments display like so, when they hurry to obey the blared orders through the klaxon, the Emperor is pleased with them. They were born into that world. When they were children they did smaller tasks the adults couldn't. Their entire existence was winding metal corridors, laid out according to some archaic design, any logic that might dictate their layout long since degraded after millennia of ignorant maintenance, lit only by emergency lights that have long since become the default. They learned how to read an angle readout or how to relay an order perfectly the way another child might learn history or math. When they grew up, their service was flawless, born of pride and ignorance, and when they grew old and died, their legacy was remembered until it was forgotten. Many were killed in battle, but who cares? They gave their lives to the Emperor - a name whose meaning they don't understand, but whose importance they believe in wholeheartedly, all but synonymous with the commanding officers up above.

Sometimes, the klaxons sound a specific command, and every person on board who understands what it means feels a deep, awful dread as they run to their battle stations. They don't know what a warp jump is. They don't understand they're going from one place to another by the fastest way available. All they know is that, for a time, the ship dips into hell. The corridors go wrong. Things and people might not be where or what they were before. Daemons stalk the halls, and must be killed by any who can hold a lasgun. The overcrowded berths, the little nooks that families find for themselves - they are not private anymore. They are not safe. Things drift through the shift that do not care about the laws of physics, but that delight in killing and torturing human beings. Vast energies shake the ship and tear parts of it away - their home, their world, their existence, the biggest thing they can imagine, assaulted by something bigger. Is it the Emperor's punishment for failure? Is this what battle is? What's going on? They don't know, and no one who does can be bothered to tell them. The dread of those who have seen this before is even worse, because they don't know how long it will be. It might be just a few hours. It might be days, or weeks, or months, or years, or decades. It might be centuries, as the captain of the ship goes hunting daemons deep in the warp - the officers live that long, after all, and have little care for those who don't. There will be people born in hell, who spend their entire lives fighting from the day they can stand, and who die in hell, as old age and need catch up to them and they curl up in a corner to perish. To them, it isn't even hell. It's just the world. The world is death and pain and cruelty, an infinite metal box through which monsters stalk, and sometimes you must run to a battle station and do as you're ordered to do. And sometimes, as they reach forty or fifty or even a ripe old sixty, the ship drops out of the Warp, and, for the final years of their life, they are granted a life of relatively safe service better than anything they ever hoped to dream of.

Those are the kinds of stories I want to see more of. Super-soldiers fighting each other is cool, yes, but I want to see this universe explored. I want stories from the perspective of those that keep the Imperium going, or the aeldar, or the tyranids, or anyone, really. There's just so much potential in this setting. It deserves it.

[mahalachives]

Part 1: The Meet Cute

Azriel x f!reader

Genre: fated mates, rom-com, crack humor, eventual angst, eventual smut

Summary: Azriel never expected to finally meet his mate and to be… this.

A walking disaster with a talent for tripping over air, an uncanny ability to charm even the grumpiest Illyrian, and a knack for throwing herself headfirst into situations that require his immediate intervention.

She is warmth where he is shadow, laughter where he is silence. And worst of all? She makes him smile without trying.

Azriel, Are you Okay? - Masterlist

There were worse ways to die, you supposed.

You could've been mauled by a rabid Suriel.

Or trampled by a particularly aggressive herd of Illyrians during training.

But no. Your fate was to perish from sheer mortification, sprawled across the chest of the most feared male in Velaris.

And, in all likelihood, take him down with you.

Twelve Hours Earlier...

Life in Velaris was, for the most part, peaceful. You loved it here: the bustling markets, the shimmering Sidra, the endless opportunities to get lost in one of the city's many bookstores or cafés.

You had grown up in the Night Court, an ordinary High Fae with no claim to power, no noble name. No extraordinary skill besides the ability to make friends with everyone. (And, perhaps, your uncanny ability to trip over nothing.)

That was why you worked where you did. The Velaris Botanical Archives was the perfect job. Curating and cataloging the history of rare flora, researching the best ways to preserve the Night Court's unique plant life.

You adored every part of it.

Except for the fact that the bookshelves were designed for Illyrians.

Which was how you ended up in this situation.

All you'd wanted was a book on Moonbloom flowers. A single book. But when you asked the head librarian for assistance, she'd waved you off, muttering something about "independent young fae" before disappearing.

So. That left you and your greatest foe.

A ridiculously tall bookshelf.

The logical solution? Climb.

Was it your smartest idea? No. But it wasn't the first time you'd scaled one of these shelves, and it likely wouldn't be the last.

You had nearly reached the book when...crack.

The shelf trembled beneath you.

Your stomach plunged.

"Oh, no," you breathed, right before the entire world tilted.

And then you were falling.

Present Moment.

The only upside to your current predicament was that you hadn't been crushed beneath an avalanche of books.

The downside?

You were currently draped over Azriel.

The Azriel.

The Shadowsinger. The Night Court's lethal spymaster. A legend whispered about in the darkest corners of Prythian.

And you had just fallen on top of him.

The world had gone deathly silent.

You didn't dare breathe.

Slowly, painstakingly slowly, you lifted your head.

And...oh. Mother above.

Azriel lay beneath you, sprawled against the floor like he'd been tackled from the heavens. His wings flared slightly behind him, dark as the night sky, his hands firm on your waist where he had somehow instinctively caught you.

His hazel eyes, rich and unreadable, blinked up at you in pure disbelief.

You, meanwhile, were a very mortified starfish.

"I am so sorry," you gasped, scrambling to move. In your rush to not be straddling the Night Court's most terrifying male, you made a fatal mistake.

Your foot slipped on a fallen book.

And like a damn fool, you face-planted right back onto his chest.

Azriel let out a very slow, very deep breath.

You felt the rumble of it beneath you, his self-restraint practically vibrating through his muscles.

His voice, when it finally came, was dangerously calm.

"Are you trying to kill me?"

You squeaked, immediately trying to push yourself up again, but your elbow landed on his stomach.

Azriel made a very small, very controlled noise. A sound that might have been a grunt.

"No. I mean, yes. I mean, wait, no! I just..." You sucked in a breath. "This isn't what it looks like."

Azriel arched a slow, painfully unimpressed brow. His gaze flickered to your current position: fully draped over him like an overeager blanket.

"Really?" he drawled.

You swallowed. "Okay," you admitted, "this is exactly what it looks like."

A choking noise came from somewhere nearby.

And that was when you realized you had an audience.

At the entrance of the library, standing in a semi-circle of unholy amusement, were Rhysand, Cassian, Mor, and Amren.

Cassian's entire face was rapidly turning purple as he tried and failed to hold in his laughter.

Mor gasped before cackling so hard she stumbled against Rhys.

Rhysand's lips twitched, but his violet eyes gleamed with utter delight.

And Amren? Stoic, ancient Amren?

She merely crossed her arms and muttered, "Well. This is interesting."

You wanted to die. Right there. On the spot. Just spontaneously combust into fae dust.

Azriel, to his credit, was silent. Completely unreadable. But the way his wings twitched, the way his hands were still on your waist...

You felt it then.

A shift.

A sensation that curled into your ribs, warm and terrifying.

Your eyes met his again.

And there, in the depths of those night-kissed irises...

Recognition.

The world tilted.

Your breath caught.

"Oh no," you whispered.

Azriel blinked, his expression sharpening, like something had just slotted into place. Like he felt it, too.

A single second stretched into eternity.

Then, finally, finally, Azriel exhaled.

"Oh no."

And that was the exact moment Cassian completely lost his mind.

The roar of his laughter shattered the silence. His wings flared as he doubled over, hands on his knees, absolutely howling.

Mor collapsed against Rhys, wheezing.

Rhysand sighed through his smirk, shaking his head. "Well, I suppose congratulations are in order."

Azriel was still beneath you.

Still touching you.

Still looking at you like you'd just flipped his entire existence upside down.

And you?

You did the only thing your panicked, humiliated, fate-cursed mind could think to do.

You covered your face with your hands and wailed,

"WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME?"

Note: Wrote this during an eight-hour layover. Gotta love airport inspiration! Let me know in the comments if you’d like to be tagged for future chapters! ☺️

[sloaneispunk]

“friend or foe” pt.2

soft!frontman (hwang in-ho) x you

when frontman joined the games, he thought it was solely to see gihun fail, but his intentions shifted when a certain player number 455 caught his attention…

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

the next day, you ate breakfast with in-ho and the team. they discussed different strategies and games in which they might have to play.

naturally, in-ho had given his milk to you even after much protests. he explained how it would help you get stronger and ready for the games.

“where’s my milk?” jung-bae sulked as everyone laughed.

you stayed beside in-ho the entire time. since after the second game, you had grown very fond of him. and luckily for you, so did he.

he felt protective of you, he wouldn’t let you out of his sight. even more so in a place like this. when you were caught up with thanos’ team, trying to save yourself after bumping into nam-gyu

in-ho made sure to step up, teaching thanos and his friends a lesson for laying a hand on you, or even threatening you.

he would have went feral if you hadn’t stopped him by pulling him away into a corner, helping him cool off.

“it’s okay, i’m okay.” you told him as you tried to get him to tear his eyes away from glaring at thanos.

“did they hurt you?” he simply asked, ignoring everything else you had just said.

‘no’. you shook your head.

after that, he made sure he always had you within feet from him.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

when it was time for the third game, in-ho held your hand as everyone walked towards the game room.

“i hope it’s something we can play in teams.” he said to you, making you smile.

“why? so you can team up with me?” you teased.

“of course.”

when you reached the game room, a large carousel sat in the center of the room. around it were different colored doors with numbers on them, 1-50.

“what is this?” in-ho wondered out loud as a voice came through the speakers.

‘the game is mingle. the carousel will move when the music plays…once it stops, a number will be called out. the number is the number of people you will need to have in your group before you enter a room of your choice.’

“shit.” you cursed under your breath.

it was going to be a bloodbath.

of course, in-ho already knew this. he might have been acting scared, but deep down, he was. how was he to garuntee your safety in a game like this.

if he didn’t come up with anything quickly, he could mess up the game, or worse, lose you.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

‘start’

ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a ring-a

as the giant carousel began to rotate, in-ho’s grip on your hand became tighter.

‘10’

“we need 5!” gi-hun yelled over the chaos that insued.

“we’re 5! let’s go! green door!” player 120 said as both teams ran for the door.

inside, in-ho made sure you were okay first before he checked on the rest.

“you should be thanking me!” a woman suddenly declared, throwing her hand up in the air. “without me, you all would have died!”

“geez! the ego on this woman.” jung-bae scoffed.

then, she whipped her head around, finger flying to your face as she stopped inches away, almost hitting you.

“can i help you?” you asked.

“you… you’re here for a purpose.” she said.

in-ho pulled you aside, stepping in front as he glared at the woman.

“you talk to her again and i’ll make sure you’re locked outside.”

the woman could only gulp.

just in time, the door unlocked, saving the lady’s ass as well as yours.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

“fuckin’ crazy sharman lady.” in-ho muttered to himself as he got back up onto the platform.

you giggled. it was funny how he was affected by everything else but the deadly game he was in the midst of.

‘4’

shit. someone was going to be left behind.

“gi-hun! take her, i’ll find others!” in-ho instructed as gi-hun nodded, grabbing your arm and dashing into a room.

“young-il!” you screamed as you were being dragged away from him.

he was so selfless, he only cared about saving you and his ‘friends’.

“he’ll be okay.” dae-ho told you as he stood beside you, peeping through the hole in the door.

the next few minutes were excruciating. you couldn’t find in-ho in the running, desperate crowd.

little did you know, in-ho was in a room on his own, locking it before anyone could enter.

he catched his breath as a guard came up to the doorhole, aiming his gun at him.

“stand down.” in-ho ordered, making the guard turn away, walking off.

when the doors unlocked, you sprinted out.

“there!” gi-hun called out, pointing to in-ho who was running towards you.

you practically flung yourself onto him, taking him aback as he laughed.

“oh my god, i was so worried.” you told him as you pulled away.

“you can’t rid of me that easy.”

“ah! we thought you couldn’t find enough people in time!” jung-bae chipped in.

“i’m a very likeable man, i do well in these games.” he joked.

⟢ ──── ●▲■ ──── ⟢

when it came down to the final round, a thick air of tension filled the atmosphere.

the last number was announced, ‘2’. you knew exactly what they were doing. around 150 people left, 50 rooms, you were going to have to fight for the rooms.

the team had split up, in-ho naturally sticking eith you as you both ran for the nearest room.

just as you were about to enter, you felt a strong push, knocking you to the ground onto your back as the man took your place, shutting the door as the timer hit 0.

“y/n!” in-ho shouted as tears started to fill your eyes.

“young-il… don’t let me die.” you cried.

oh, he was angry. angry wasn’t even actually able to cover it. he was fuming.

he picked up the man by the collar, punching and kicking him as he yelled in frustration.

as the guards approached you, you heard his voice.

“standdown! now!” he said, “that is an order.”

just like that, the gun held up towards your temple was gone. the guard walked over to the room, using a set of keys to open it before standing behind you.

in-ho however did not step out. he simply grabbed the man who was already fighting for his dear life, locking him in a headlock.

“w-what?” you asked, backing away from in-ho as his eyes pooled with anger.

“take her upstairs.” he said to the guard as he nodded, lifting you up and dragging you away.

the last thing you heard was the loud crack of the man’s neck echoing through your ears.

(i am going insane)

[twisted-broth]

Scarlet End

Mr Scarletta x Reader

(Anything in bold is in the other world language)

How did you end up here? In those apartments? In this other world? Could it really all have been fate?

No. It was all his fault. Ever since you spilt blood on his property, you were in the palm of his hand. He toyed with your reality like it was all just a game to him. You supposed that likely wasn't far from the truth.

How many days had you been running? Every corner you turned brought you face to face with a new monster, difficult to distinguish between friend or foe. Although you suppose you probably didn't look much better at this point. Blood slipped through the cracks of your raincoat, staining the white dress underneath as you fell to your knees. You were so tired. Even if you could keep running, where would you go? All you could see for miles was an ocean of red. And your hunter didn't suffer the same exhaustion you did.

Shade falls over you. Although now that you think about it, was there ever a light source to begin with? Either way, you don't have to raise your head to know that a red umbrella was covering you. Not to mention the telltale static that always managed to make your teeth throb.

He says something incomprehensible.

No, you know this one. It's the same thing he asks for every time he sees you.

"Give name?"

You finally raise your head to look at him. His red hair covered most of his face, but you could still catch a glimpse of his haunting eyes staring at you, unblinking.

You clumsily utter out what you think is the equivalent of "Why?"

"Me like you. You give name, me ??? you."

What was that word again? It was one Mr Crawling used often. Something like... protect.

"Protect you."

Could he really protect you? Judging by the reactions of everyone else here, you were under the impression that he was the one you needed protection from. The voice on the telephone seemed adamant that you not tell anyone your name. But could you really trust that voice? They hadn't led you astray yet.

They also said you would have to make a choice.

All things considered, this is Mr Scarletta's world. Either you refuse and keep running for the rest of your life, or you join Scarletta in his reign of terror. Your crowbar digs into your shoulder, reminding you of your past. When you stop to think about it, you're not so different from Scarletta. Maybe you're even worse.

"Name... Y/n."

His eerie smile grew more than you thought was possible.

"Y/n." He repeats.

His hand is cold and rubbery, not unlike a corpse, as he takes your own. The fact that he was incorporeal when you swung your crowbar at him a few minutes ago nags at the bag of your mind. Your brow creases in annoyance, but if Scarletta notices he doesn't say anything. It really was true that this world was stacked against you.

Scarletta rises to his full height, pulling you up with him. It takes a great deal of effort to force your aching muscles to stretch once more, and your knees nearly buckle again. Amidst your struggle to right yourself, he hands you his umbrella, much to your confusion. Before you can ask why, he scoops you into his arms bridal style. You supposed this was his way of showing that he cared.

Under the cover of the red umbrella, you feel isolated from the rest of the world. Even if that world was only a wasteland of red for right now. Fear grips your throat as you meet his awful eyes. They were even worse up close. Even now, having gotten what he wanted, his expression seemed the same as always. Being so close, the static was almost deafening as it continued to assault your ears. Perhaps these were all traits that you would grow used to in time.

"Let's go."

[jeanbie]

FANTASIZE ★ masterlist.

pairing: jake x reader

warnings: explicit sexual content, fem!human!reader, semi-public sex, piv sex, dirty talk, size kink, manhandling, breeding kink, cumming inside, glowy cum | wc: 16k | ♬

note: i've been promoted to: avatar writer. my first time writing for it (def not my last!) lemme know what u think ;-) also his smirk in the header....GET INSIDE ME

★ ⏤ fantasize | all the time (if you were mine)

⏤ It's official - Jake is sick and tired of Norm giving him shit. While he can't claim to know as much about Pandora as Norm does, there's still a few things Jake can afford to do to piss him off even more for the fun of it, and it just so happens that Norm's sister works as a scientist in the lab - which to Jake spells perfect revenge in its simplest form.

It’s official — Jake has had enough of Norm’s bitching and whining.

For the last two months, Jake has endured a lot, more than he ever asked for or wanted; whether it was Neytiri on his ass about becoming an Omatikaya and never missing a single beat of training for it, Grace nagging him about video logs, or even Norm giving him so much shit over every single thing he didn’t spend three years learning in simulations and classrooms — he’s sat and listened to all of it without complaint. 

Jake has never once fought back, never once raised his own grievances about how tedious and time-consuming everything actually is on one man’s shoulders, and yet it all keeps coming.

The worst thing is that he can understand all of it to an extent. There’s a necessary need for attentiveness when learning the ways of the Omatikaya, and the longer it takes, the worse his chances get with the rest of the clan. The video logs? They’re not that important, Jake thinks, but it keeps Grace off his back for the small kernel of time he actually spends in the real world and not inside of his avatar. 

But with Norm, Jake can’t seem to understand what is actually bothering him enough to be so goddamn bitter about every little thing.

Of course, he’ll never fit into Tom’s shoes, not in the way everybody expects him to. He didn’t spend three years of his life learning how to control an avatar or how to function on Pandora — every day is quite literally a learning experience, a practical education that neither a lab nor a stuck up prick like Norm can teach. 

And, while he’s on the subject, Jake actually thought Norm would be a decent ally, at least until he almost died and got saved — with reluctance — by the daughter of the Olo’eyktan and somehow ended up being thrust into learning their way of life. 

Nobody seems to remember the giant part of the story concerning how he almost got devoured by an oversized dog in the process.

Instead, Norm wants to bitch about how Jake knows nothing, and treats him like a genuine idiot. Jake might be a few years short of being educated on the Na’vi, but he’s not stupid. He can still do stuff, stuff that Norm can’t; but reasoning with the man is like trying to convince the Na’vi that the Sky People are actually friends and not foes, and it’s pretty obvious that that’s never going to happen.

When Norm begins his daily ritual of berating Jake on his lack-of knowledge regarding the Hallelujah Mountains that surround their shitty little containment, Jake’s willing to sit through it and take it like a champion. 

Norm starts weaving his conspiracies to the cluster of scientists about how Jake is a terrible candidate for joining the Omatikaya clan and that all he cares about is sucking up to the Chief’s daughter — not true, by the way, for Neytiri can only stomach being near Jake because she has to and on rare occasions, he can do something absurdly dumb to make her laugh — and Jake begins to mentally tap out of the debate, rolling his eyes to the side and sighing as he watches you duck your head through a low archway with a bowl of slop in your hands.

Jake watches you for around three seconds before the lightbulb flickers alight above his head.

And then he grins.

It’s hard to believe that you and Norm are related — Jake can’t find any similarities between the two of you. You’re incredibly compassionate and communicative, never letting Jake suffer in his silent struggle of stupidity, and not to mention you’re incredibly beautiful; whereas Norm is just… Norm. A bitter, angry, red-faced man who does a piss poor job at hiding his insatiable jealousy of how wasting your life in a classroom or behind a book actually means very little in the grand scheme of achieving your goals. 

Example A: Jake of the Jarhead clan, ex-military, future Omatikaya. Cross-reference to Norm: sad loser. Jake signs his name on the mental essay he’s compiling as Norm drones on about culture and ignorance and narrows his gaze on you as you close in on the group.

Jake’s actually always liked you. You’re a no nonsense kind of woman who loves science and the Na’vi, and, unlike your brother, you actually treat him like an equal. Even now, as you slip next to him and lean back against the low metal work-surface, you meet Jake’s gaze with an eye-roll and smile, and his grin only widens from it.

Oh, how he loves that you like him. Although you spend so much time engrossed in your work and documenting on paper whatever Jake recites from his daily activities within the clan, Jake happens to know that you like him, and in hindsight, it’s never been a secret. For the first time, Jake lets himself consider the possibility of that being just another reason for Norm to suddenly despise him, but the idea warms his stomach rather than churns it.

“I can totally see Jake ruining all of our chances at building bridges by just burning them all together,” Norm huffs, folding his arms and wrangling a dirty glare in his direction. Jake welcomes it with the same smile that’s been blooming over his face for the past two minutes, which worsens Norm’s mood. 

“I don’t see you building any bridges, either,” you say to Norm. “Jake’s been more valuable to this program than you have as of late.”

Norm bristles. “One of us has actually been doing research while the other is trying to seduce an Olo’eyktan’s daughter—”

“Jake’s doing field research, Norm,” Grace says, her eyes still glued to her microscope. “And he knows better than to seduce anybody when we haven’t properly studied the relations between Na’vi and avatars yet. And there are bigger issues at stake right now.”

“I can get results on that if you want me to,” Jake offers.

“No, Jake.”

Jake shrugs. While Norm continues his tirade against Jake’s rather noble endeavours with the Omatikaya, he turns his gaze back towards you and lets his mental clogs turn.

At this point, Jake thinks that even if you agreed with some of Norm’s points, it wouldn’t make any difference. There is absolutely nothing he can do to please Norm, and so maybe he should just stop trying. Then again… There’s something hideously funny in how worked up Norm gets when somebody jumps to his defence, particularly you.

And considering most of Norm’s insecurities come from seeds he planted all by himself without any concrete evidence to support most of the points, Jake knows that anything he does from here on out will drive Norm into a slow burning insanity.

“Is it because I’m in a wheelchair?” Jake asks suddenly.

Norm huffs. “Of course not. It’s because you don’t take any of this seriously. Everything is a game to you. All of us here have spent years building up to this assignment while you read a manual and called it a day.”

“What? I’m serious. I’m one of the best avatar drivers here,” Jake says smugly. Grace finally looks over with an irate look — something tells him he wasn’t supposed to tell everyone that she had told him that. 

Norm’s face turns a whole new shade of pink. 

“I’m also a quick learner. The Omatikaya are trusting me more and more each day, so while I go out there and find out valuable field research for this program—” Jake looks at you with a deliberately sweet look and you laugh quietly, “—you can stay here and look at plants and mud and cells.”

“You probably don’t even know what a cell is.”

“Sure I do. Where they lock up all the bad guys.”

Norm opens his mouth to say something more, probably missing the joke like he does every time, but this time Grace swirls in her chair and sighs loudly, looking between the two of them like they were children.

“Alright, ladies, you’ve measured your dicks at equal length. You’re both doing good work around here, so Norm, why don’t you just let Jake go back to doing his work with the Omatikaya and you can just get some rest. Jesus, you’re both making everyone miserable, it’s affecting my work ethic…”

“Yeah, sweet dreams, Norm,” Jake calls, and Norm gives him a filthy scowl before snatching his things up off the desk, holding them secretively to his chest as he stomps towards the back room lined with their bunks. 

Jake feels the dark and evil energy follow him out the room and then he finally looks around the lab in disbelief. 

“Jake, go, you’ll be late, don’t keep Neytiri waiting,” Grace reminds him, switching off the bulb to the microscope and stretching her arms as Trudy claps her hands and silently announces her retirement to the bunks after Norm. “Don’t forget to make a log when you get back. Don’t let him forget, will you, Spellman?”

Grace looks at you with a look that suggests no room for negotiation. It was an order. She collects her things, claps Jake on the shoulder and grabs a cigarette from the net by the archway and takes it with her towards her separated bedroom. 

When the door to her little cubicle rattles shut, Jake shakes his head with a quiet laugh and rolls himself forward, giving you room to assemble your own work station where he had just been.

“Staying up late tonight?” he asks you, taking a swig of water before pushing one of the buttons to the link unit, waiting as it whirs to life.

You settle your stuff down and walk towards him. “Yep. I actually do have some work on cells to finish up.”

Jake’s lips quirk. “Not your usual ballpark, is it?”

“No, but there’s not really a surplus of Na’vi around here to communicate with,” you say in reply, rummaging with the unit to help Jake into the gel pack mattress. Usually he dismisses the help, but when it’s you helping him get comfy, then he’ll stomach his pride and accept your kindness. He’s surprisingly light, as normal, and you frown. 

“Don’t forget about the real world, Jake, you gotta take care of yourself.”

“Don’t worry, I got this,” he assures you. “You need anything while I’m out?”

Another thing that will shave a few years off Norm’s life — Jake bringing you things, extraordinary and otherwise unattainable when stranded in the mountains things for you to study and report. You hum thoughtfully at the offer, pushing his head down softly when he wriggles restlessly, a little too eager to get to whatever he’s doing in the forest tonight.

“If you happen to cross paths with a tsawksyul, a simple cutting would be appreciated,” you tell him, opting for something a little more simple than normal, considering Jake’s busy these days training. “If you don’t forget while you’re busy seducing daughters, of course.”

Jake’s grin returns, if not out of genuine amusement then just to see you smile in return and do the little head-tilt thing that Jake’s discovered he adores.

“Not my thing. More into scientists,” he tells you, watching in the final moments before you shut him in the pod at how you shake your head and turn yourself away from him.

There was no rejection. No refusal. Just a smile.

A smile that sets his plan into motion.

No wonder Norm is always in a terrible mood. You find that his notes on the cells found in the mossy undergrowth of the forest is as chaotic as it can possibly be, which has left you using Grace’s Bible on Pandora botany as a guide and squinting to find the connections between his barely legible notes.

It’s basic knowledge that when cells die and a genetic material begins to unfold, a charge of energy is released; this concept has been the fundamental structural point to Norm’s notes on the moss and how each step at night causes a ricochet of expanding light, but there has to be something more than everybody is missing. Even in Grace’s book, there’s not enough information regarding how it works; if it’s connected to Eywa, if it is a response to another organism, whether it breathes and lives as its own entity.

Alongside Norm’s notes, you very sparingly begin to make an analysis of the communicative features of Pandora plant life, and begin jotting a vocabulary to use in a later research assignment, when a sudden knock against the glass above your head makes you jump quite literally up and out of your seat.

The Hallelujah Mountains are so isolated from the rest of the human population on Pandora and used rarely by the Na’vi during the night, but you distinctly make out Jake’s looming form standing outside with a smile on his face and relax. His skin is a bioluminescent explosion of colour, and for a moment you’re struck dumb staring at him until he waves his hand as if beckoning you outside.

You throw a cautious look over your shoulder, but the lab is silent and still. With that in mind, you reach for one of the exo-packs and shrug on your cardigan hanging on the back of the chair you were just on and hesitantly begin to make your way outside.

Very sparingly have you been outside of Site 26 to explore, and never once on your own. Grace has drilled into you the strict importance of respecting the laboratory rules and curfew, and if you’re going to wander outside after hours in the name of research, then please, wake her up too. 

But you won’t be alone out there, not when Jake is waiting for you outside.

Jake drops to a squat in anticipation when the airlock doors to the lab force open with a wheezy breath, and he sees you cautiously step out and secure a button on your cardigan in place. The gesture almost makes him croon. He rarely sees you at night since he’s learned the value of getting rest in between his adventures in his avatar, but now he can’t believe what he’s been missing out on seeing past his bedtime.

You look tired, your hair out of place and messy, but he recognises your attempt to look more alert when you step towards him with a slight bounce.

“Hey, tìyawn,” he calls to you, as you stare up at him even whilst drawing near. Thanks to the crouch, you’re about eye-to-eye, and he watches your expression widen with wonder as you map out the illustrations of light across his nose and cheeks, before sweeping to his forehead, then his neck, and then his bare chest.

“Hey, yourself,” you laugh, finding his eyes again as they glow in the low light. The Pandora skies are littered with stars and balls of unimaginable white light, but even the surrounding forest gathering around the lab to protect it from the harsh dropping winds of the mountains are pulsing with purple light, every single shrub and leaf and plant glowing with life.

Jake stares at you for a moment before producing a gift from behind his leg. You take it from him with a wide and gasping smile.

“No way!”

“Way,” Jake says, watching you handle the flower with so much care that one might assume it would break with your touch. With the way Jake was swinging it around on his way up here, he’s actually shocked that it’s still in one piece, but something in the way you respond to everything Jake does or brings tells him that even if he’d brought a portion of it, you’d be just as pleased.

“Thanks,” you say, turning slightly as you tell him you’re going to put the tsawksyul in the lab for safe-keeping. But Jake reaches his arm out to trap you from leaving, cocking his head to the side with a soft smirk when you round back on him curiously.

“It’s not gonna die if you leave it out here, it’s a flower,” Jake tells you, jerking his head in another direction. “Wanna look around with me?”

You pause, and he can tell you’re genuinely conflicted. Grace said not to leave the vicinity under any circumstances out of respect for the Na’vi and the lab rules. But she also said not to go outside without her, and here you are.

“Grace will be mad if she finds out I’m gone,” you tell him slowly.

“Probably.”

“And Norm.”

Jake feels a rush of something at the mere mention of your brother, and his tail swishes against the rocks behind him. 

Jake leans closer to you. “Well, him I don’t care about.”

Mindful of the plant in your hand, you gently push Jake’s chest back until he rolls on his heels, unable to fight the smile on your own face.

“…Where will we be going? I can’t go far just in case Grace wakes up and comes looking for me.”

Jake tilts his head up to the sky and to the top of the mountain peak that houses the lab. From his own experience scouting up there, Jake knows there’s a small incubation of trees that offers a compelling view of the entire mountain range, as well as offering a minor collection of plants he thinks you’ll die over once you see.

But that just wouldn’t be as evil as what he originally had planned. He then rolls his head towards the small section of trees that border the back of the lab, close to where the bunks are, and he then looks back at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“We’ll stay close,” Jake promises. 

You hesitate once again and guiltily look at the lab. It’s not like it’s going anywhere…

“Alright,” you sigh, looking back at Jake and watching his smile widen as if he’s just obtained a great victory. There’s no room in your stomach for suspicion to grow — it’s overrun with butterflies when Jake points his head in the direction of the snug tree line and holds out his finger for you. 

You stifle a laugh and reach to hold it, setting the tsawksyul on the ground tucked under the same window he just scared you from and join him on the slow walk to wherever he means to take you.

Being with Jake has always felt easy, but being with Jake’s avatar is practically uncharted territory. It’s a struggle to remember that it is actually the same man you like so badly back in the lab, the same guy who deliberately rams your ankles with his wheelchair just to watch the way you catch yourself as you fall, the same guy who you think uses you as a factor to piss off your brother but in a way that you find strangely attractive. 

Now, he’s an almost ten foot Na’vi leading you in the whimsical dark towards a cluster of trees, and you don’t know how to begin separating the feelings you have for Jake from the feeling of nerves you feel around his alter ego.

You can barely make out Jake’s face all the way above your head, not until he feels your stare and looks down at you beside him. There’s a similarity in his human expressions with his Na’vi ones, which is fortunate considering there was a time where you thought the avatar looked more like Tom than it did Jake. Now that they’re one in the same, and now that Jake is in front of you in his avatar form and the feelings you have for him are still lingering, you’re beginning to accept the likeness between the two of them. 

“What did you do today?” you ask him, referring to his ritualistic training with Neytiri.

Jake hums thoughtfully. “Nothing compared to Norm, I’m sure.”

At that, you laugh. “I’m seriously asking, Jake.”

“Alright… Neytiri has me reading the signals of the forest whenever we go hunting,” he explains sparingly, seeming not in the mood to talk training now that you’ve reached the lay of forest near the back of the lab. He surveys the setting and the space between the lab and the fringe of leaves and bushes and nods, as if satisfied but then pulls you deeper into the thrush of leaves.

“She says everything’s connected,” he continues. “She also says I’m a terrible shooter.”

“You’re missing your shots?” you tease. Jake turns back to you with a grin that you honestly walked into when you asked.

“Not all of ‘em.”

After the short walk, Jake is finally satisfied with the burrow of bushes and rocks that outline the small selection of forest behind the lab, and he looks up to once again gauge the distance and is pleased when the lab doesn’t look too far away. Jake hears you rustle and sit on one of the low rocks with your knees to your chest, and then drops to his usual squat in front of you, arms rested on his knees, gently fiddling with his fingers.

“How’re your cells?” he asks, but you’re so busy gazing at the forest around you and the stars above your heads that he fears you’re not even listening. Jake instead settles for watching you.

He knows he’s in over in his head when even his avatar likes you. Jake’s had nowhere near as much experience navigating his way around how to use this body than the other drivers, let alone time to understand the signals his body sends him or the feelings different things have to him, but he can tell the difference between being you friendly and not, even when he’s not totally familiar with how it all works. And on top of that, there are so many random variables to being Na’vi to get his head around that he never even thought of until Neytiri or Grace filled him in on what the hell was going on with his body at certain times of the month.

He’s stupid sometimes, true, but not totally naive. Jake recognises the tug in his chest as he looks at you — he feels the same thing when he’s in his human body. He’s no expert on Na’vi, never claimed to be, but he feels there must be something instinctive in the way he feels for you and the way his avatar senses it. And with Norm’s fresh-faced hatred in full flush whenever Jake makes that fact known, he’s not at all surprised that those feelings have suddenly become so full frontal now that he’s had enough of Norm’s bullshit.

“It’s amazing out here,” you say, to Jake but also to the wind as you completely crane your head up to look through the cracks in the branches and leaves. “Don’t you ever wish Earth had looked like this?”

“I haven’t really thought about Earth since I left,” he confesses, shuffling closer to you while you’re occupied with mapping out the stars in the sky.

“Not once?” You look down at him. If you’re taken aback by the sudden closeness between you, you hide it well. 

Jake shrugs. “Nothing I need is there.”

Fair enough. You stare at him for a moment and think about that before agreeing. 

“Me too.”

The branches above your heads sway in a gentle breeze and Jake watches you hug your cardigan around yourself before asking, “So, why’re we here? Did you wanna show me something?”

“What, the stars not enough for you?” Jake looks up to the sky.

You laugh quietly. “I’ll never get enough of them, actually. Beats the lab ceiling by a long shot. Looking at the stars through the window’s not the same… I wish I didn’t have to use this mask—” You throw him a playfully exasperated look, “—I wish I had an avatar.”

“Why don’t you?” Jake’s never asked, never thought to ask. But you’re the only scientist in his close collective of scientist ‘friends’ who doesn’t actually drive an avatar, and is instead limited to just studying everyone else's.

“It was never really my thing,” you explain, settling comfortably atop the rock and throwing the glances to the sky away to focus on him. Like the lab, they’re not going anywhere, and the ones tattooing Jake’s skin are far more interesting. “Okay, that’s a lie. I think the avatars are fascinating, just like the Na’vi, but sometimes you take what you’re given when you’re given it. Norm has always had to be better than I am, always one step ahead. Plus, our inheritance only stretched as far as to cover the contract costs of one avatar driver.” You laugh, “And Norm’s older.”

“Damn, so we just got stuck with Norm,” Jake comments, only to make you laugh again, which thankfully works. “I’d have a better time out here if it were you and not him.”

“He’s actually very insecure about that,” you tell him, watching his amusement grow without knowing the exact reasons for why. “He always goes on about how your avatar is much more built. I guess Tom was just more athletic and the avatar reflects it, I don’t think Norm’s used so much as an elliptical since high school… Anyway, he’s very vocal on how unfair the avatar program is in that regard.”

“You agree with him?”

Jake’s fingers ghost across your ankle.

“One: he’s my brother, and I’m not going to answer that question honestly. And two: let’s not forget who the avatar is modelled off. Tom was very handsome.”

“Growing up, I was always the pretty twin.”

You hum. “I couldn’t tell.”

Jake’s never ever considered the fact of you knowing his brother well before he died. He’s never had to think about it before, not until now, but he pushes the thought away and falls back into the thoughts of what he came here to do in the first place.

“You don’t think I’m handsome?”

He watches your grin widen. “I didn’t say that, did I?”

Jake creeps forward slightly, and this time you notice, moving your toes back further towards your bum on the rock while Jake continues his close creeping. 

“I think you’re a very pretty woman,” Jake murmurs. “Beautiful, even.”

“Norm’s not here to get mad at you for saying that,” you remind him.

“‘m not saying it for Norm to hear.”

You feel Jake’s hand sliding to wrap around your ankle and you shudder when he smooths his way up to your calf. You’ve never interacted with any Na’vi like this before, never felt their skin pushing against your own. With a glance down at his hand, you frown and work your way back up to his face, his eyes lit up in the dark.

“It’s not fair that you’re using your avatar against me right now,” you mutter, making him laugh through his nose and bring his body closer to the round edge of the rock. He considers it progress when you remain rooted in place once his hands run up the length of your legs to your waist.

You watch his nostrils flare slightly as he observes you, which only makes you feel more nervous and trapped here.

“All I’m doing is talking,” says Jake.

You scoff at him. “Does all your talking involve hands on the waist, Sully?”

He shrugs. “Only with really pretty people.”

Jake’s ears prick when you sigh and look back up at the stars. He doesn’t move his hands, but he senses your body tensing beneath his touch, smells the change in your body as he speaks. He’d love that part of being Na’vi a lot more if he knew what those changes meant exactly, and he can’t figure it out even as he stares at you intently.

His thumbs smooth from left to right, feeling the nub of your ribcage with every stroke over your tank top and tries to level his face into one of absolute neutrality when you look back down at him. 

“What are you doing, Jake?”

Not what he was expecting you to say, if he’s being honest.

“Nothing,” he says.

“You’re being weird,” you reply, narrowing your eyes suspiciously. It has the opposite effect, and you watch him struggle not to smile. His hairline raises when his brows do, and you fight the urge to roll your eyes when you figure him out, “Did you actually bring me out here just to flirt with me?”

He does nothing except look at you, as if the answer is painfully obvious and you’re stupid for not realising it sooner.

You sigh loudly. “Jake, I’m sorry that you didn’t get the memo like everybody else, but you didn’t need to lure me out the lab in your avatar if you wanted to get my attention.”

His thumb continues to move and his eyes drop slightly.

“I wouldn’t say I lured you out here,” Jake replies. You watch his eyes zero back in on yours and you fight your body against the urge to wrap up and hide from him. 

“You can’t be that stupid, I refuse to believe it,” you laugh disbelievingly, which makes him raise his brows questioningly. Even with a layer of plastic obstructing your face from his, Jake can’t get over how pretty you look. “You have to know that I like you even when you’re not a big blue alien.”

Jake’s grin widens, his fangs glinting in the moonlight. “I know. You’re really bad at hiding it.”

“Okay,” you say, feeling under your cardigan for his hands and attempting to wrestle them away, but he doesn’t budge. You laugh again, as if the whole thing is genuinely funny for you, “then you can always make your thoughts about that known when I see you in the lab. In person.”

“I’m not doing anything I wouldn’t in there if I had the chance,” Jake tells you, moving his hands but only to sandwich them between your tank and your skin. The feeling of his palms flat against your stomach makes you jump slightly and reach for his wrist. 

“Please. I see you every single day.”

“Yeah, and your brother, and Grace, and Trudy,” Jake points out. “I can’t get a second alone with you. What would you have me do, make a move with your brother breathing down my neck about it?”

“You could just be upfront. Save me from looking like an idiot.”

“Come on, baby, let’s be real.”

The smile he has on his face is unmoving, and you search every corner of it to find signs of his sincerity falling and find nothing. But something feels wrong.

You’ve spent close to two months in the long shadow drawn by everything else in Jake’s life, and considering Jake’s newfound role of future Omatikaya warrior, you feel that the time he spends in your company has become less and less. So now that Jake has decided to pick up on whatever signals you were sending him and respond to them, you assume it’s all in the name of good fun to piss off Norm.

Feeling Jake’s hands creeping up your body in the middle of the Hallelujah Mountains and with no older brother here to glare at either of you, you’re rethinking everything you thought you had figured out.

“I don’t get it,” you say finally. 

Jake just laughs quietly. “You thought I just rammed my wheelchair into your feet for fun?”

“You mean to tell me that was your way of showing interest?” you ask unconvincingly.

“…Nah. I liked watching you fall, though,” he grins. Jake picks himself up from his squat and looms over you like a shadow, watching you fall back onto your forearms as you stare up at him. He sets one knee between your legs and leans down slightly, breathing in deeply in a way that has you thinking he’s actually sniffing the air around you. 

“Honey, I’m all kinds of obsessed with you.”

You blink. “You certainly gave nothing away.”

“I bring you shit all the time.”

“I’m a scientist, I didn’t know you did that because you liked me. I thought it was just because I wanted better samples than Norm.”

“I mean, that definitely helped motivate me to find everything.”

“You never even told me you liked me.”

“Well, I’m telling you now.”

“Okay, well, tell me tomorrow when you’re awake and not all…big,” you frown. 

Jake chuckles. “You don’t like me now, or something?”

“I definitely never said that. I just want to hear human Jake Sully tell me how he feels without using his avatar to try and win me over.” 

Jake’s tail swishes behind him. “You prefer the dummy in the wheelchair?”

“I like your wheelchair,” you tell him quietly, running your hand up his arm as he pins you flat against the boulder with a hand on your stomach. 

“I don’t,” he murmurs. “I like being like this. I like being bigger than you. I like smelling how much you like me.”

All of a sudden, your legs swing shut around him and you look at him in disbelief.

“Freak.”

All he does is smile. 

“Come on, Jake, I actually don’t have time for this,” you say around a groan, trying to move against him but failing miserably. An exasperated smile falls on your face. “Really? What are you even trying to achieve? You’re seducing me with your avatar?”

His ears twitch and he angles his head to the side. “Yes?”

“Why am I getting the impression that all of this has something to do with Norm somehow?” you sigh in reply, but Jake notices the way you fall relaxed underneath him, and he has the feeling you’re in no real hurry to get anywhere else tonight. 

“Well, it might have something to do with it,” Jake confesses, his voice lower than it was before as he draws his nose close to you and takes a deep inhale. The feeling of his braid flicking down from his back and brushing against your thighs makes you shudder, not to mention the feeling of his snout against your collarbones. “Really, I just want to spend some time with my girl while I got the chance to.”

Whatever you want to say or have planned to say dies away when you feel Jake’s lips wander and press against your sternum. 

Sighing, you shift your hands to his arms that have you pinned down and carefully squeeze. “Good luck with that, Sully.”

He runs his tongue flat against your skin and hears you exhale through your nose, a noise of satisfaction muffled by your closed mouth, and all at once, Jake’s decision is final.

He is going to fuck Norm’s sister. 

And he’s going to rub salt on Norm’s wounds by doing it in the way that will piss him off the most.

Jake kisses his way down the length of your body, his hands moving around your figure like a sculptor until his hands find their way to your thighs. Though oversized and covering most of them, Jake’s hands circle around the width of your thighs and he strokes his thumbs across the inside skin of them, all while laughter bubbles in your chest.

All of this is just so absurd. If someone had told you this morning that Jake so much as liked you back, it would have taken some convincing, but if they had gone as far as to suggest he’s be attempting to seduce you in his avatar in a little chunk of forest behind the lab you pretty much live in, you would have laughed at the delusion of the thought. But now, there’s no denying the very tangible view of Jake’s Na’vi hands pressing down on your thighs, his eyes staring up over the slope of your body as you pick your head up to look down at him.

“This is crazy,” you gasp.

Jake’s teeth reveal themselves against the stretch of skin he was just pressing kisses onto, his smile widening as he speaks. “You don’t want to, baby?”

You weigh your options. It’s either leave and go back to the lab and hope that Jake follows through on his apparent feelings for you in the morning… Or you can relax and enjoy.

“Jake…” You pause for a moment. You want to enjoy it, and you feel the pool of desire deepen inside of you and know it’s a sensation Jake can most likely smell. 

He’s still your Jake, still the same guy you dote over when he remembers he has a life outside of being Na’vi. The only difference now is that he’s blue, and mobile, and double your size in every definition of the word. And suspiciously attractive, but you don’t know for certain if you think that because it’s Jake or because it’s actually true as a fact. But you just can’t help but wonder if Jake’s climaxing feud with Norm is the only reason he’s pinning you to a boulder in the forest and kissing your stomach. 

“You’re not just doing this to piss off Norm, are you?” you ask, feeling serious all of a sudden. The only way you know Jake notices is from the way his ears flatten against his head and his eyes grow round with concern. 

In the light, his tail flicks from side to side in the way you recognise most Na’vi do when they’re nervous, and you fight the urge to look away from him when he stays quiet for a second, thinking of what to say in a loud silence.

Of course he’s doing this because he knows it will piss Norm off if and when he finds out. As soon as Norm catches a stinking whiff of Jake on your body when he’s in his own avatar surveying the mountains, there will be nowhere for Jake to run or roll off to and avoid Norm’s volcanic rage. But he knows as well that this is a long time coming — that he’s been chasing circles around your feet for the fun of it, and now the chance has come for him to bring what he’s buried to the surface and shape it into something more.

Jake very carefully thinks of what to say. “Knowing that if I fuck you right now it will piss off your insanely annoying brother makes me want to do it more. But if the only reason I was fucking you was to piss him off, then I’d be doing it in front of him.”

Your brows raise. 

“Okay, that came out wrong,” Jake says quickly. “My point is… I go crazy thinking about you. And everything I think about doing to you can be made possible when I’m, as you said, all big.”

“But… Norm—”

Jake groans, all smiles. “Oh my god, can we please stop bringing up your brother for a sec? It’s a huge turn off.”

“It doesn’t make me feel any sexier, either,” you point out, “but I’m just thinking—”

“Don’t think,” Jake tells you. “This is the one time you don’t have to think about anything at all except for how you’d like me to take care of you.”

Jake returns his face to your stomach as you blink furiously, a flustered feeling creeping up over your body at the bluntness of his words. If you thought he was playing around, you’re officially convinced when his hands tighten around your thighs and he spreads them apart, pinning them down against the boulder he’s made your bed for the night. You inhale a deep breath when Jake’s thumbs dip underneath your shorts, bunched around your inner thighs.

“I suppose it would be like killing two birds with one stone…”

Jake laughs against your skin. “Jesus Christ, Spellman, quit talking so much. Who knew you were such a yapper?”

“Am not,” you protest.

You shudder when he plants another kiss on your abdomen, pings the fabric of your shorts back against your skin with a sharp sting and he grunts with a nod.

“Okay,” Jake agrees, his ears high and tail swishing playfully. “Now take off your cardigan.”

Still watching Jake on your forearms as he hooks his fingers around the waistline of your shorts in an effort to pull them down, you wrangle a sigh of protest and lift your lower body up for him, all whilst reaching for the buttons on the front of your cardigan. 

You breathe heavily as you mumble, “Do you really need to take off all my clothes, Sully?”

“One of us is halfway there, honey, and it’s not you,” replies Jake. His golden eyes watch with intent as he pulls the shorts down the expanse of your legs with your underwear in tow. As you shudder with the breeze fanning between your legs, Jake takes a big inhale and stares.

He barely moves an inch once the shorts and panties are in a bunch around your feet, but you busy yourself by sweeping a look at Jake’s own attire, or striking lack of. Between his legs hangs his tewng, a simple and sparsely intricate item of clothing that leaves little to imagination when it comes to what is growing between his thighs. 

It’s standard attire for the Omatikaya, but you’ve never seen it up close, and never on Jake himself. It hits you then that he’s still in his entire hunting gear, as if he finished up with Neytiri and brought himself here right away.

Jake’s thighs clench as he finally moves, readjusting his footing in his dropped squat; to him, this position has become as natural as breathing, but you stare at his thighs bulging and wonder how he’s not in agony from it alone.

Jake looks up at you after his allocated time spent analysing the spot growing wet between your legs and you gulp, feeling almost nervous. 

“Well, you’re gonna be an Omatikaya soon. One of the consequences is wearing your little g-string everywhere.”

His head leans to the side as his amusement grows. “It’s called a tewng, genius.”

That makes you laugh, and say in a melodic and sweet tone, “I know.”

But Jake bites back with the same sweet tone as you and says, “Then shut up,” and you comply. It’s the least you can do for him when he smooths his big hands back between your legs and up close to your cunt.

Pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee, Jake inches his hands further, relishing in a deep breath as he returns to staring at the spot just inches from his fingers. From his perspective, you are hideously tiny; given the obvious lack of research on Na’vi and human sexual relations, Jake isn’t totally sure you’ll be able to withstand what he wants to give you.

Worth a try, though.

Jake’s chest rises and falls as he stares in wonder at your pussy, the scent divinely pronounced, and he runs one of his fingers between your folds and up, collecting the juices on his finger as he rounds your clit in a rather observational manner. 

You bristle, your legs instinctively trying to close — all the good it does, as Jake pushes them back open. His eyes flicker back up to yours, as if assessing his next steps, before he lowers his mouth to your cunt and without doing you the kind service of looking away, stares at you as he spreads his tongue flat between your folds.

His actions earn him a strangled moan of pleasure, and his ears twitch in satisfaction. The feeling of his tongue against you is strangely addicting, rough and soft at the same time, warm and wet and enough for your hips to lift. 

“Jake…” You gasp, feeling your eyes close, half with the pleasure of it all and also sheer embarrassment. 

Like a predator watching its prey, Jake never looks away from your face and the way it twists, your jaw hanging open as he licks your cunt. With the size of his head alone, his tongue virtually covers every corner of your pussy with no difficulty, leaving you with no untouched itch, no ignored stretch of wet skin. 

You can’t even bear to look down at him again, and you toss your gaze up to the stars as they twinkle above, blinking, conspirators to your escapade. Biting down on your lip to stop yourself from moaning too loud, your hips slowly roll up and down as Jake sucks around your clit, his big hands working overtime to keep you from wriggling away entirely off the rock and to the ground.

“Oh, god…”

Between your legs is a flurry of warmth, a tingling feeling rippling down to your toes. After five dry years, it comes as no real shock that even someone’s tongue could be ripping this kind of response from you. 

“You good?” Jake murmurs.

“Mmh. Hot,” you rasp. It doesn’t help that there’s an exo-pack warming your face with every deep breath you take. Jake moves his mouth from your cunt momentarily as if trying to hear you, watching with curious eyes when you bite back another noise which stirs as he slides his finger towards your entrance. 

“This mask is really ruining my vibe right now,” you groan, your voice so throaty and strangled that Jake has to fight a smirk. He fails miserably.

“Take it off and hold your breath,” Jake replies; a laugh rumbles from his chest when you lift your head to scowl at him.

“It would frighten people if they knew how much of a genius you were.”

Jake hums, his eyes glistening as he cocks his head, “I’m incredibly humble.” Then he wastes no more time talking and sinks his finger into you.

He sinks in with plenty of ease, your wetness guiding his finger all the way in to the knuckle and you choke back a strangled sound; one of Jake’s fingers feels like two of your own, the stretch unfamiliar but not unwelcome after your dry spell of five cryo-stolen years. 

Jake grins widely and inches his tongue back between your legs, swiping it over your clit and forcing the moans out from hiding in your throat.

You turn your head to the side, sparing a glance at the distant laboratory. You can only hope you’re not loud enough to startle your sleeping colleagues and brother.

“Eyes down here, Spellman,” Jake mumbles, his voice vibrating across your pussy and pulling your eyes back towards him. Tears spring to your eyes as he looks up at you, working his fingers in and out of you slowly while matching his licks to the tempo.

His tongue is slightly rough and textured, each lick leaving you feeling almost ticklish. A rush of warmth pulls from your cunt up to your neck, and your thighs tremble around his head with a flushed squeeze, but Jake doesn’t seem to mind; he pulls your one leg further apart with his other hand and slips in a second finger, the stretch of your hole making your back arch with a half pained, half pleasured moan.

“Jake!” you gasp, your hips bucking up against his mouth, his fangs brushing across you. He has the nerve to laugh all of a sudden, pulling his mouth away after pressing a sloppy kiss to your clit. “Jesus, fuck, Jake—”

“Goddamn, you are a yapper,” Jake comments, and you glare at the almost human look of pure smugness on his face, his chin coated with saliva and juice. 

“Fuck you,” you huff, feeling the absence of his tongue immensely, despite his continuously moving fingers. Jake’s fingers are thicker than they looked from afar — it feels like you’re full already, but you’re not willing to confess that to him. He already looks far too proud with what he’s doing.

You suppose, now that you���re thinking about it, Jake’s had years to become familiar with a pussy; he seems to be back between your legs with a certain hunger for you, the taste of your juices sweeter than he initially expected. 

His fingers are coated in juice, slipping into you with no resistance and curling his fingers up to make your hips lift once more. He almost wants to make a comment to fluster you, to tell you how insanely good it feels for your cunt to be quivering around his fingers, welcoming him up there as if you’d prepared for them beforehand. Jake parts his fingers inside of you, stretching you out, his mouth comfortably attached to you.

His ears twitch when you let out a wobbly cry — actually, he’s not sure if you’re crying for real or not. His eyes follow your hand as it creeps down to the hood of your pussy, just above his nose, and he pulls his mouth away for a split second.

“No, no, go back,” you pant, and like a dog given a command, Jake pulls his soggy fingers out of your cunt and pushes his head back between your thighs, satisfied by your own pleasured sounds when he does.

Jake hooks his arm across your lower stomach, effectively pinning you to the sloping boulder while he uses his other hand to keep your legs wide apart. You forget all about modesty and self-control and open them as wide as you can for him to help, your hand stroking the top of Jake’s hair as he burrows his way back between the wet spot he was devouring. 

You suck in a tight and high-pitched breath when Jake’s tongue shifts from left to right over your clit, the feeling of his tongue strange and almost like a vibration. Your hips lift from the boulder again and shift up and down — Jake’s barely even trying, barely broken a sweat, but when he glances up at you he’s both amused and surprised by how twisted in pleasure you look. All he can see is the underneath of your jaw tilted to the sky, and one of your hands curling up around your tit under your tank top.

Jake guides his arm from trapping your abdomen up to push the bottom of your tank up above your wrist. There’s no way he’ll let you gatekeep the sight of your tits when he’s the one making you touch yourself in the first place. His eyes are wide with excitement when you fist the fabric of your tank and yank it up above your boobs, the curve of them bouncing with the quick movement of your hand. 

Jake groans into you, his tail curling up high. Jake’s tasted a lot of pussy in his life, but he doesn’t know what exactly you’ve done to taste so good to him. He momentarily convinces himself that it feels different because he’s in a whole other body — it must just be because he’s big and strange and he’s been fucking you in his mind for a while now that you somehow feel ten times better than anyone else he’s ever been with. 

The pool of warm juice between your legs leaves you incredibly soft and squishy, like a tìhawnuwll that he has to remind himself he can’t just sink his teeth into.

It could be because you’re Norm’s sister. Could be because you usually appear so big when he’s resorted to sitting down all day, but now you’re helplessly tiny underneath him, trapped by his arms and head. Or it could just be because he’s an idiot who quashes his feelings rather than gives in to them.

He blinks. Your hips are so high off the boulder that Jake has to bring his arm back down to hold you in place. The less you squirm, the more drawn out he can make it, but he’s acutely aware of the tremor in your legs, the impatient rutting against his lips, the painful hardness under his tewng.

“Sweet,” he grumbles. The word leaves you flustered, and the heat brewing like a bomb against his open mouth begins to rise through your body again. You forget to be quiet as you let out a high-pitched moan, feeling your toes curl in your boots and you desperately finger at your nipple, rolling and tugging on the hardened nub of flesh as Jake pins you tighter against the boulder. He laves his tongue down your cunt towards your entrance, the warm tip of it pushing to the tightened hole that Jake wants more than anything to squeeze himself inside.

“Mf — Jake, come on,” you whimper.

One of his thin brows raises. “You seduced yet?”

“Fuck off. Yes.”

You feel the rumble of his laughter against your pussy. Jake presses a kiss against it and then moves his mouth to the soft skin of your inner thigh. 

“I never let a woman go without making her cum,” Jake says, his voice muffled against your leg. He feels you quiver beneath him, and his grin widens. “You wanna at least cum first, right?”

“Please, Jake—”

A startled cry of pain rips from your throat when Jake gently sinks his teeth into your leg — Jake knows his own strength and pulls back before he can draw blood, glancing at the red outline of his teeth imprinted into your leg, a ridged ring of saliva in his wake. Your head is lifted entirely to gape at him, and he looks at you with a coy expression.

“Did you just bite me?”

He smirks. “Accident. Sorry.”

“Yeah right.” Your legs shift slightly around him, but Jake can smell the twisting agony of pleasure leaking out of you — he’s never been more thankful for his Na’vi body and its strange sense of smell than he is now, to be able to pick up on the need you try to hide from him, a scent he actually understands. Normally he can admire your determination, but right now, he’s more concerned with finding out how to break down your walls and unravel you the way he knows you’ve been wanting him to for the last two months.

He smooches the bite one more time, his ears pricking when you whimper out a sort of desperately small sound and say, “Come on, Jake. You got me out here, don’t torture me about it.”

“Me eating your pussy not enough for you?” he asks smugly. He knows it would be more than enough — call him conceited, but he’s sort of an expert on it by now.

You don’t say much, nothing worth noting, at least. Jake’s ears are tall as he lifts his head slightly, but his thumb continues to rub up and down your slit, carefully smoothing over your swollen clit almost sympathetically.

“Please,” you beg in such a small and desperate voice that Jake smiles at the sound. You see his eyes flutter, half-lidded, as he cocks his head to the side until his temple is against your knee. 

“Hm? You just wanna say please and get it over and done with?” Jake mutters. “You can’t take any more of my fingers?”

“Don’t be a prick,” you whimper. “You want it, too.”

You feel that unkind heat simmer over you again, but not for the reason you expect. Jake blinks at you lazily, like an unimpressed cat, and then you watch as his eyes curve into crescent moons, the slint of gold virtually glowing in the Pandoran night. Then, the fucker smiles again, looking so smug that you feel embarrassed somehow, caught under his gaze.

“Yeah, I do,” agrees Jake. “I’ve been wanting you a long time.”

“Then, come on,” you urge. Something excited claws at you, and you feel your heartbeat race when he lifts himself slightly. “Come on, big guy. You got me out here, you win.”

He swells with pride, pleased by what is leaving your mouth in a flustered flurry. 

“You think you can take me all by yourself?” he asks, his hands coming to rest on your knees as he turns his gaze back to the clenching hole between your legs. Jake looks almost thoughtful as he stares at you, as if analysing. “You could only just take two fingers.”

For such an intelligent woman, Jake finds himself amazed when you look anxious about that statement. What, do you really think he’ll just give up and go? Jake doesn’t care if it takes all night to get himself up your snatch, because no matter what, he’ll get himself in there.

He sniggers when your mouth flounders like a little fish, your tank sliding with the angle of your body back down over your tits, but then he tuts and reaches back to pull it up. In fact, he decides it’s better off, and he uses one finger to pull the whole thing up to your chin, and lets you suffer in an anxious string of actions — you tug the tank up over your head, eyes wide, lip pouting. 

“Wanna try?” Jake asks, if not to speed along the increasing agony of his hard cock tenting under his tewng then just to put you out of your misery. “Or should I go back for seconds?”

“Jake…” Your chest rises and falls as you gape at him. He went through all the trouble to get you here, and although you never expected to look at Jake’s avatar and feel a throb between your legs, you can’t even look at him without feeling overcome with the terrible, pressing desire to squeeze whatever weapon he has under his loincloth into your cunt. Jake watches your eyes look down at the darkness between his legs, to the pretty band of string tied around his middle, and then looks back at you with a sickeningly sweet expression.

“Aw, honey. You want me to fuck you?”

It takes an incredible amount of effort not to scowl at him. Jake is lucky he looks so attractive with your arousal around his lips, otherwise you’d be up off the boulder and marching back to the labs for being so unbelievably full of himself. 

But even though he’s double your size and consumed by a cocky smugness from being able bodied and towering over you, you can’t think of enough reasons to warrant your leave. The only things on your mind are how much it’ll hurt to get him inside you, and how good it’ll feel once he is.

“That’s why you brought me here, after all, isn’t it?” you murmur, your lips curved slightly when he bows his body over you, his hands flat against the boulder on either side of your waist. “You’ve been thinking of me, right? Oeyä sayrìp tsamsiyu — you must have thought about this every time you went and found me a flower, right?”

Jake’s smile turns wolfish. “Yap, yap, yap.”

You all but whine underneath him. It is so unbecoming of you to be so desperate for something that you resort to writhing like a brat, but with Jake just straddling over you without doing anything, you feel the eager feeling of want coiling in your lower stomach. Your hole clenches around the air, as if trying to feel for Jake’s fingers again, and you lift your hips up off the boulder as if to entice him.

He barely even looks down at you, which only infuriates you more. 

For a moment, you wonder if the only reason he lured you out here was to satiate a desire of his own; maybe he just wanted to prove that he still had what it took to make a woman beg for him — though he needn’t have tried so hard, considering you’d have writhed and whined for him just as much, if not more, had he just made it known that he knew about and returned your feelings sooner.

But having you touch him in an impossible silence in the shared bunks pales in comparison to now, to having you look so small and soft and inviting; for you to beg for him, to let yourself be ravaged by him in all of his strength. Why would he prefer to have you while he feels useless when he can make the most of the strong, brawny and big body his brother passed down to him?

Jake breathes deeply through his nose and chews on the inner skin under his lips. You watch in the dark as his tail coils, his ears flat, until he lowers his body down like he’s doing a press up and pushes his nose against your sternum. 

“You smell so pretty, baby girl,” Jake mutters, pressing a kiss against the skin sloping between your tits. Biting your lip does little to suppress the moan that spills out when Jake cups one of his hands around your breast, and you hold the back of his hand as he gently squeezes. 

The hanging cloth of his tewng brushes past your pussy and you jolt in surprise, just in time for Jake to bring his mouth down over your other boob. The sheer size of Jake dwarfs every feature of yours, but something about your tiny size only excites him more. 

With his lips wrapped around your tit, you try your hardest to muffle another moan at the feeling of his tongue toying around your nipple, desperately trying to find something to focus on that isn’t the absurdly good feeling of Jake’s mouth or the tewng brushing past your pussy every time Jake rocks his hips backwards and forwards.

You clench your hand over his, feeling your legs squirm around him as his sharp teeth scrape against the squishy curve of your breast. Fear should rip through you when you feel his teeth tighten around the top of your tit, but it doesn’t; instead, a rush of warm excitement burns you from the inside out when Jake’s cheeks hollow, sucking a purple blot into your skin.

“Hey—” you say cautiously, but the damage is already done. It’s as if Jake’s determined to make you the same shade as him; the mark he leaves is blooming and bright, and he looks all too proud of himself when he looks up in acknowledgement of your voice. His tail thrashes excitedly. 

“Leaving that so everyone can see what you were doing when they wake up,” Jake explains, licking a strip from the swelling bruise to your neck for good measure. “My dirty scientist.”

That is if you ever make it back to the lab in one piece. 

Feeling the pleasure spreading across your body, you’re half contemplating staying here on this rock forever, hoping that Norm or Grace never come back here looking for samples only to find your corpse. You’re overcome with a conflicting contrast of emotions — you suddenly feel so exposed, so unraveled, half guilty for encouraging Jake to shove his big blue fingers up your crotch, and even guiltier about the fact that you want more from him.

“Enough. Come on,” you huff, and Jake dips his attention back to the rutting of your hips, the glossy shine of your arousal. “While I’m wet.”

“You really think I’m gonna let you dry up before I can get inside you?” Jake asks, as if the idea is beneath you both. “Have some confidence in me, Spellman.”

“I do. Full confidence. So, come on, gimme.”

Jake grins; he leans his weight up on one knee and in the light, you can just about see the protruding point of his tewng and feel your desire pooling. It’s only when Jake undoes the string around his waist and frees what hides beneath that you start to feel your body tense unexpectedly; it is beyond you how Jake has managed to keep the spear he calls his cock hidden for so long, and even more unthinkable as to how it will fit inside of you. 

You stare at it with wide eyes. Meanwhile, Jake holds the base of it with his hand and assesses the space between your legs again. When he guides the tip to your folds and strokes himself up and down, you feel your heartbeat quicken and your legs turn like jelly.

“You like it?” he asks, ever so sweetly, as if it’s a new gift brought back for you to enjoy. In a way, it is a gift, something for you to sample. Jake’s body seems to vibrate with nothing short of delight at the speechless state his dick has left you in — and he hasn’t even put it in yet.

“Big, right?” he continues to ask, a smirk on his face.

All you can say is, “how do you walk around with that thing?”

He barks out a laugh, his head tilted to the stars as his smirk widens. Jake then pushes the tip against you again with his thumb, choking down his amused sniggers as he drags himself up and down your cunt, and more than anything, he wishes he could see your face better in the moonlight. Luckily, Jake’s spent hours staring at you in his wheelchair to be able to piece together the smudges of your features he can see in the reflection of light hanging over the front of your mask. And what he can’t see, he’ll hear, and what he’s not satisfied with not seeing he’ll seek from you again later.

“It’ll be a tight fit,” Jake thinks out loud, prodding the tip of his cock against your entrance and looking up at you once you whimper, “but I know you can take it.”

“I dunno… Looks kind of big—”

“You can fit it in,” he tells you confidently.

But now you’ve seen it, you’re slightly nervous. “What if I can’t—?”

“You were just begging me for it,” Jake says pointedly. “While I’m wet, you said.” Then, he leans forward so that the wide slope of his nose is pushed against the front of your mask. “I don’t care if it takes all night trying. I’ll help you fit it all in, okay?”

You breathe in sharply, feeling your hips grinding up against him. Jake tries to find sympathy for you; he supposes that if he were you and some ten foot Na’vi was trying to burrow his cock between his legs, he’d be apprehensive too. 

“Just…” you rasp, watching him desperately, and he waits kindly, though his tip is on the verge of being swallowed by your cunt. Your legs tremble when he smiles at you, one hand on his cock, the other flat against the boulder. “Just go slow, okay?”

The way he looks at you is as if you’ve just said something stupidly endearing. “Sure thing, Spellman.”

Jake does his best to keep up his presented facade of coolness, but you feel so warm and wet, his arm begins to shake as he supports his weight on the boulder, grunting when he aligns his cockhead with your hole and very slightly pushes in. Even though he only just had his fingers up there, he can feel your pussy resisting, and it’s only the tip. 

Your mouth hangs open with a pained whine, the stretch uncomfortable but in spite of it, you arch your back as if trying to feel more of him inside of you.

“Easy,” he chuckles, very slowly pushing more of himself into your pussy. The noises from your mouth grow louder, and something proud purrs in his chest. His tongue pushes against the inside of his lower lip as he smirks, teeth showing, as he makes an almost amused groan. You’re insanely tight, and unbelievably squishy and wet — and hey, it’s been five years for him, too.

“Yeah,” Jake groans, pushing his hips further and pulling out, each stroke gentle and tentative. He wants more than anything to go rough, to make you mewl and cry and curl up against him, but the tearful look on your face makes him reconsider. Each time he sinks in a little bit deeper, softening the resistance of your walls as they make room for him. 

It takes an incredible amount of self restraint to stop himself from shoving all of it in at once; you’re so tight, the tightest pussy he’s ever felt closing around his cock, and easily the best. Jake closes his eyes for a second, honing in on the squeezing clench around his cock and the unnerving, uncharacteristic silence leaving your gaping mouth. 

“Talk to me, Spellman,” Jake groans, inching deeper inside. His ears perk again when you cry as he sinks in deeper. “Say something.”

“You told me I talked too much,” you manage out, admirably trying your hardest to remain quiet despite the pushing twelve inches of Na’vi cock up your cunt. Jake’s barely even inside of you; more of his dick is out than it is stuffed inside. 

“I love hearing you talk,” replies Jake, even though he had just poked fun at your ability to talk someone’s ear off. Had he known it would swear you into silence now, he’d have never said anything. What Jake wants now most of all is to hear your voice again, hear your pleasure, your instructions, your pleas. 

Hearing you slip out a high pitched moan when he pushes more of his cock inside of you feels like a reward almost. 

“Could listen to you yap away all damn day,” he murmurs quietly, his eyes finding yours behind the glaze of the exo-pack. “I know you’ve always got something to say, so why’re you so quiet all of a sudden?” Jake’s grin brightens when you manage to suck in more of his length, “Talk to me, baby, tell me what you want, hm?”

“Just… Put it in,” you whimper, and his eyes widen excitedly. 

“You said to go slow.”

“I know what I said, but I need more.” Your eyes are so blown open he’d laugh if it didn’t look so goddamn sexy. “Please, Jake.”

“You sure?” he croons. 

“Mm. Please — come on, please—!”

Jake snaps his hips forward so quickly that more than half of dick disappears inside of you, and the primal noise that leaves your mouth takes Jake completely by surprise. 

“Fucking shit, mama,” Jake groans, his voice rasped as he bows his chest over yours, dropping to his forearm on the boulder as he adjusts to the warmth enveloping him. “Holy shit.”

You swallow a deep breath, your hands gripping tightly to Jake’s shoulders which forces his eyes to your face. He can make out the distinct shimmer of tears under your eyes, and he brushes his fingers across the side of your neck, tapping you to bring your eyes open and searching for him in the dark. 

“You with me?” he asks, chuckling slightly. “You good?”

“Oh my god,” you squeal, cunt clenching. “Wait—”

“Breathe,” Jake says quietly, pressing a kiss to the swollen bruise he sucked into your skin earlier. “You can do it, pretty girl.”

“Keep moving, it hurts when you just stay still.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters, his hips falling back into a slow rhythm to keep you adjusted to his twitching cock. It’s almost disturbing how easily you’re taking him now he’s forced more of his length inside, how wet and responsive you seem to be as he sinks deeper into you.

At first, Jake goes slow, familiarising himself with every noise you give him, every twitch and shift in your body, every clench around him. You feel the smooth ridges of his cock kissing your insides, the sensation unfamiliar and strange but so fucking good. He snakes one hand under your back when you lift up off the boulder; his large palm is flat against the arch of your spine, his fingers curled around your hip. 

You look like a toy underneath him, something he could easily just hold with one hand and fuck himself up into.

His hips snap again, faster than he intended, and more of his dick disappears inside of you. You could easily take all of him if he took his time getting you to that point, but the warmth wrapping around him like a glove is so sinful that he can’t think of anything less appealing than going slow. He sucks in a deep breath through his teeth and squeezes your waist with his hand; one desperate little cry from your mouth later, and Jake forgives himself for having waited so long to get you in this position, to fuck you stupid. 

It’s been so long since Jake’s been able to fuck a woman like this, and for his first time since his accident to be with you, of all people — well, Jake could think of no greater victory, no better reward for all the shit he’s endured so far. 

He stares down at the gap between your legs, watching as his dick vanishes and reappears with every rock of his hips. You’re taking it so well, like a champion. Pride blooms in his chest — he’d expect nothing less from his woman.

Pulling your hips down slightly to meet him as he thrusts up, Jake shoulders the control and moans in a low tone, pushing until he feels your body seize underneath him. Then, he pulls back, falls back in, and gets himself comfortable.

The stretch no longer burns the way it did, but you feel as though you can barely breathe as Jake ruts his hips up. He’s so big in every definition of the word. He doesn’t seem to notice nor care about the deep indent of your fingernails in his shoulder; he seems entirely devoted to gaining momentum, creating his own pace with his ears flat against his bowed head.

“God… Jake,” you moan, feeling the slight point of the boulder against your shoulder blades and his hand squeezing your middle as you finally speak, after what feels like eons of silence to Jake.

He latches his gaze to the rise and fall of your breasts as he fucks you, his breathing heavy. “Oh, you like that?”

Ever so slightly, he hastens his pacing, eliciting a tearful sob from your mouth. “Mmf—”

“Is it everything you hoped for?”

His stomach churns when you laugh, albeit with a strangled kind of tone, and clench around his cock again.

“You’re so full of yourself.”

“So’re you,” he points out, lifting his chest slightly to glance down at your stomach. It should be criminal how turned on he feels by the sight of his own dick outlined in your lower tummy — it should be criminal how insanely good it feels knowing he’s fucking a part of you nobody else has before. You’ve lost all self control as you decide to let yourself be noisy, which Jake is all too pleased to hear.

Peering down at your hips, you marvel at the sight of Jake’s frightening length pushing up against your stomach. It looks just as weird as it feels. Jake hisses and runs a hand across the spot his dick is hitting.

“Feel that?” he asks. He knows you do. It’s a stupidly dumb question, but you whine at it all the same. “I told you it would fit. Look at you, taking it all, no problem.”

“Mhm. Feels good; so, so, so good, Jake…” Your body feels limp and tingly, and you let your head fall back so your gaze is pointed up at the sky. Even as you blink dazed up at them, they have the striking appearance of Jake’s skin, the dark blue wash of sky with littered balls of bright white light. The image of him is printed on your mind, and no matter where you look to avoid his gaze, you find him again.

Jake shifts. Keeping his dick sliding in and out of you with more of an upbeat rhythm than before, he bows his chest back over yours and brings his ears close to your ear.

“A perfect fit for my perfect girl,” he mutters. He becomes so reliant on his one hand on the boulder when he uses the other to hold your leg up around his waist, bringing forth an entirely new burn from the stretch of it. His breath is warm on your ear, making you shudder. “How long you been waiting for me, baby?”

You scoff disbelievingly, trying to think of something to say despite your mind being both full and empty at the same time. All you can think about is the building pressure in your tummy.

“Long,” you offer, snaking a hand up his neck to the back of his head. 

Jake licks his tongue across the arch of skin connecting your neck to your collar. “Thinking of me with your fingers up your cunt at night, huh?” His hand squeezes around your middle when you begin to shift with his thrusts further up the boulder. Even with your loud cries in his ear, Jake can hear the squelching wetness around his cock, the tightening spasms around his length bringing him closer to giving in to the dull ache in his own stomach. “Bet you wheelchair Jake Sully couldn’t make you feel like this. Next time you get off to the thought of him, I want you to think of what we’re doing right now, about who’s got you feeling this way.”

“How…how do you even know about that?” you gasp, half pleasured by his thrusting and half horrified by the revelation that Jake might have been privy to the fact you masturbated with him in mind when everyone went to bed at night.

Actually, he didn’t know. But he sniggers smugly that his teasing jeer turned out to be true. 

Jake presses a kiss to your collar and peppers a line of them up until he is thwarted by the mask covering your face. Peering down at your face hidden behind it, Jake gives you a sad pout and says, “I wanna go fast.”

“I…” you start, his hips already moving and you feel the heat simmering below again. Anymore from him, and you’ll be finished, cumming all over him. “I don’t think… I’ll — I’m gonna—���

“Then let’s get it done,” he says with as much finality and refine as he can muster before he picks himself back up, finding the energy he had before to pin you down against the boulder. You keep your leg wrapped around his waist as he sets one hand down over your tummy, the other on your shoulder, and then the real fun begins for him.

Jake isn’t ignorant to the twisting ache inside of him — like you, he knows he probably doesn’t have that much longer until he’s completely tuckered out and ready to fill you up. What can he say? It’s been a long time, and he doesn’t have the same kind of stamina as he used to. You’re tightening up around him in anticipation; it’s like being gripped in a vice. 

He pulls his hips back and then pistons himself back in with so much speed that you almost fly up off the boulder in surprise. Too fast, he thinks, so he gets accustomed to a regular fast pace and sticks to it loyally. In return, he’s rewarded with a litany of pretty sounds, your hands curling around his arms, desperately trying to hold on. 

“Yeah, oh yeah,” Jake groans, feeling your cunt fluttering around him as he fucks in and out, slipping in and out of your wetness as if he owns it. The hand that’s pressing your shoulder slips to your throat, and while he doesn’t squeeze, you claw your fingers around his and feel his grip tighten ever so slightly. 

“Fuck!” you squeal, clamping your eyes closed suddenly. “Shit—Jake, baby—”

He moans at that, really moans. A ringing rises in volume in his ears as his thrusts grow more rapid, relentlessly smacking his hips up until he slides all of his dick inside of you. 

God, you’re fucking perfect — he can’t name many women, if any at all, who could take a dick this size with as much ease as you are now. But the increasing pressure in your tummy is so overwhelming that you’re not even too aware of the size of what’s getting comfortable inside of you. All you know and understand is that in the next three seconds, you’ll be seeing white.

Jake’s name falls like a mantra from your lips, and he looks at you in surprise to see that you’ve very bravely opened your eyes to stare at him, although the tears lining your waterline and smeared down your cheeks make your stare look ten times more attractive to him. He almost wishes he hadn’t looked — his hips stagger slightly and he growls, the noise earning him another whiney moan from the undone woman beneath him, the woman he’s committed to filling with his cum and making his.

“I—!” You say nothing — you don’t even have to. Jake feels your cunt strangling his length like a goddamn fist, and by the buffering look of pure ecstasy on your face, he’s fairly certain all of those things mean you’re about to cum.

“Yeah, mama, cum for me,” Jake coaxes. “Lemme feel you.”

The warmth around him clenches, and all of a sudden, your body seizes with a jolt, your back arched so high off the boulder that it leaves him hitting entirely new angles inside of you, pushing your orgasm to a new level. 

For you, it feels like you’ve been blown up. Your entire body is consumed by a blazing heat, your legs going immediately limp as you cum around him. Jake’s eyes instantly shift to your quivering hips, to your cunt still swallowing him up, the white dribbles of cum leaking down the length of his cock. He watches the small cluster of glowing freckles decorating his dick disappear behind a rolling drop of your cum and his jaw goes slack.

“My girl,” he crows, his head bowing as he eagerly fucks into you a few more times, muttering the same thing as he does: “Oh, my girl, my pretty girl—”

The hand around your throat rips itself away only to squeeze into your hips, as though Jake intends to leave fingerprints there once he’s done. He grips you tightly and with a monumental and low, throaty moan, he snaps his hips one final time and feels a tug in his tummy.

You probably feel him cum before he does. Jake seems caught up in his thrusts while you register the unmissable burst of warmth inside of you, ropes of cum spilling out as if his sole intention were to breed you, stuff you full of his seed. 

In actual fact, Jake just wanted to fuck you silly, fill you with boat loads of cum, and bask in the evil satisfaction of watching Norm smell Jake all over you, claiming you as his. 

“Mm—fuck, Jake!” you rasp, squeezing your little hands around his wrists. The feeling is enough to bring him up to the surface he was drowning under, the ringing in his ears dulling as he catches his breath and opens his eyes, staring down at the embarrassingly wet mixture of cum and juice between your legs. 

He stays inside of you for a moment, his dick still hard and even more pronounced up your cunt than it was before, and it’s as if his eyes are unfocused in absolute awe as he observes the sight of you stretched open, locking him in place greedily. 

It sinks in that you managed to fit all of him in, that he just used his avatar to fuck you in the forest behind the lab. You. Norm’s sister. The object of his desire. The woman of his literal dreams.

Jake lets out a loud and heavy breath, a sigh of relief, and rubs his palms up and down your stomach gently. Despite having had him fucking you just seconds before, you feel a heat flush over your face when he looks up at your face, sweaty and tear-stained under the exo-pack, and he grins wolfishly.

“You’re incredible,” he laughs, which makes the act of looking at him feel ten times more rewarding. Your body warms with the praise: all you’ve wanted was for Jake to like you back, and now, to be full of his cum and knowing he thinks you’re incredible… You laugh with him. 

A few disbelieving laughs later, and Jake finally moves his hands under your thighs and slowly pulls himself out of you. The bump of each ridge along his length knocks past you, and Jake stifles a howl of laughter at the whiney, high-pitched moan you make as his cock pulls out of you with a slick, wet pop. He cranes his head slightly to watch his cum pool out of you and you pick yourself up on your forearms, looking for his dick between his legs to have a final peek, a good look at him covered in your cum and his…

Your eyes widen. “Your cum glows.”

Jake raises his eyebrows. “What? Scientist of Pandora didn’t know Na’vi cum glowed?”

“I haven’t exactly had a selection of Na’vi men or women to tell me that it did!” you reason, your eyes still marvelling curiously at the shiny soft blue stain over the hanging fruit between his legs. 

He hums, poking a finger against your folds and smirking when you flinch. “Hm. Put that in your research notes. Wanna take samples?”

“Fuck off,” you laugh, keeping your legs wide as you struggle to sit upright. The discomfort between your legs is suddenly making itself known, and already the cum around your pussy and thighs is drying, sticky and thick. “Jesus, Sully. Look at me.”

“I know,” grins Jake, his eyes soaking up the image of you. “You’re fucking sexy.”

You roll your eyes with a twisting smile. While Jake seems incredibly fascinated with the marks he has either left accidentally or on purpose over your body, you groan and roll your shoulders. Frankly, you wish Jake had just thrown you down on the grass and fucked you there — in hindsight, the boulder had been a bad idea and you know it will come to haunt you in the morning.

Lazily, and yet with a rush of shame and exhilaration, you glance back at the lab, sitting in the curve of moonlight and caged by bioluminescent flowers and shrubs, each glowing vibrant spectrums of cyan and purple and lime. 

“You’re the luckiest woman alive if nobody heard you yapping,” Jake says playfully, rising upright to stretch the agonised muscles of his legs. “You’re so noisy, honey.”

“I apologise for not thinking too much about the volume of my voice,” you drawl sarcastically, your eyes still glued to the glazed thick glass windows looking into the back of the lab. Anxiously, you glance at him, “Was I that loud?”

He gives you a tight, sympathetic smile. You frown.

“You weren’t quiet yourself, you know,” you grumble, feeling the pinch in your back ease slightly.

“Yep.” And he seems smug about that fact, for reasons beyond you, although you wager a guess as to why he seems proud all of a sudden.

As you shuffle awkwardly off the boulder, you wince as you lean for your shorts and panties, dropping a little look at the sliding dollop of cum slipping out of you. 

“You gotta keep it in there,” Jake says. 

“Jake, as soon as I stand up and walk around, it’s all gonna come pouring out anyway.”

His lip curls with disappointment as he watches his cum drip out of you onto the edge of the boulder, splatting on the wisps of grass around your ankles. It’s a good thing he’s full of copious reserves of cum to give back to you another time.

“Can’t wait for Norm to get a whiff of me,” Jake tells you, and you fight the urge to sigh and roll your eyes, because of course — of course that had been a motive for the gallon of glowing blue sperm Jake just squoze into you. “The look on his face when he figures out I’ve been breedin’ his little sister—”

“I have never been more thankful of the fact that Na’vi and humans can’t reproduce together. Hand on my heart, I mean that.”

You slide your shorts and panties back up your legs and reach for your thrown tank top. The inconspicuous smudges of green from the boulder across the back of it fill you with a puny drop of dread — you’ll just pray really hard to both God and Eywa that nobody pays it any mind. 

That and the bulbous bruise on your tit, the bite on your leg, the finger indents on your hips.

“I was doing that thing you were doing. Killing two birds with one stone,” Jake says as he searches the ground for his tewng. “Fucking you ‘cause I wanted to and fucking you because I know wanting you is gonna piss off your annoying big brother.”

You had said that, hadn’t you? And even though the entire scheme of Jake wanting to scorn your brother so badly that he has to use you as a human fuck-toy seems ludicrous, you can’t deny the very minuscule jolt of thrill it gives you. It would be fun to piss Norm off a little bit. He has been a total arse lately.

“Norm’s all you think about,” you tease. “You sure you don’t like him instead?”

“Shut up.”

Jake hands you your cardigan with an amused smile, his tail whipping to and fro happily. 

“Your coat, ma’am.”

“Love how you only have one thing to slip back into,” you point out as you take the cardigan from him, and he reaches for the tewng and chuckles. “You could’ve just lifted it up.”

“Could’ve, would’ve, didn’t,” he replies.

There’s an uncharacteristic silence between you both as you climb back into your clothes, and while Jake fiddles with his tewng with his tongue between his lips, you look back at the lab and sigh. 

Somewhere in that lab is the man you’ve been thinking of for two months — Jake in his human form, lying in a link unit as he takes control through another body. You wonder what he might think when he wakes up: will he come searching for you in the dark? Come kiss you, tell you how he feels?

Jake creeps up to you with an alarming light foot, and the feeling of his hand on top of your head makes you look up suddenly. 

“What’s on your mind?” he asks. 

“You,” you sigh, looking back at the lab. “Are you going to follow through with tonight when you’re back as yourself, or is this an avatar Jake exclusive?”

“Come on. You still want that loser in there?” Jake feels his heart tug — he doesn’t know if to feel offended that you’re still thinking of someone else, or flattered because that someone else is technically him, the real him, the version of him that Jake hates the most.

“You’re so mean to him,” you grumble. Then pause, and add, “To you. That’s literally still you in there. If anything, doesn’t that make me look a little bit obsessed?” Jake gently pushes your head as you fall into a slow walk in the direction of the remote lab. “Wow. Actually, I just realised that’s true.”

“Finding out that you liked me was the only reason I started spending more than five minutes at a time in the lab,” Jake tells you. 

“Who told you?”

You both accept a short silence as you stride past the wall that most of the bunks are built against, and you feel an anxious knot forming in your stomach when the clearing at the front of the lab expands into view. 

“I meant it when I said you were horrible at hiding your crush on me,” Jake reminds you. 

Right. 

The tsawksyul Jake found you is thankfully still where you left it, and you slip out of Jake’s touch to fetch it from under the window, but when you turn to him, his eyes are pulled back across the miles of suspended mountains.

“You have somewhere else to be?” you call.

His top lip curls into a half pout as he says, “Not now. But tomorrow I’ve got to do some hunting. If I make a clean kill, I start my iknimaya.”

“Impressive,” you comment, twirling the tsawksyul between your fingers. “You… Will you be gone long?”

Jake hesitates for a moment. Is he reading into it, or are you looking a little bit more crestfallen now you know he’ll be gone for a little while longer?

“Why, you wanna go again?” he asks with a laugh.

“Respectfully, I think my vagina is broken and I need to lie down,” you quip, making him laugh even more. “I was just…curious. If you’re gone too long, I’ll be asleep before you get back.”

Jake creeps towards you and drops to a painful crouch. He’s definitely going to feel the cry and protest in his legs in the morning from being haunched for so long. Still, he frames your face with his hands and takes a long look at your face.

“I’ll roll past your bed extra quietly,” he promises. 

You snort and push yourself away from him. “Safe travels, big guy. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Peering up at him, you breathe in the sight of him one last time as he nods once and rises to stand. The long shadow drawn by his lithe figure falls over you.

“Affirmative,” he states. You look up at him for a second and smile. Did it take having his cock in your stomach for you to realise how pretty he is like this, or have you known all along?

“Go,” you tell him, nodding towards the edge of the cliff before turning to the door. Over your shoulder, Jake scoffs a laugh and turns on his heels, his eyes scanning the mountain range as he approaches the edge. 

The bravery you had before died long ago and you quickly twist the air-lock to the door and force it open, your heart in your throat. You don’t look back at him, even when he looks back at you with an endearing smile on his face.

The lab is deathly silent when you slide back inside. You were half expecting someone to stir at the sound of the door sealing shut, but if anyone’s awake, they make no effort to show it. Tip-toeing to the small bathroom, you very hurriedly go about your business and wipe away the eternal flood of cum from between your legs. With the amount Jake just put inside you, you’re fairly confident that even a human with an average sense of smell could sniff him all over you.

The long stalk back to your bunk is made silently and carefully. Norm is fast asleep on the top bunk he unhappily shares with Jake, the aforementioned’s bunk empty and cold, the link unit whirring quietly. Just the sight and sound of it makes you unnaturally nervous, and you turn to speed towards your bottom bunk and peer at Trudy. She’s out like a light. 

The thin blanket is pulled to your chin once you settle in the sheets, and you refuse to accept that it’s cowardice you feel when the sound of the link unit slowly begins to fade and Jake hauls himself out with a pained groan. You remain very still as he fumbles for his chair, though you fight the urge to get up, help him and while you’re at it, kiss him until he can’t breathe.

You hope your acting has improved since your terrible attempts of hiding your crush and try to make it look as though you’re asleep, but the distinct sound of rolling wheels makes its way towards where you sleep; you steady your breaths so it looks like you’re out of it, and perhaps Jake will fall for it this time. 

Your stomach tightens when the wheels stop next to your bed, and you’re uncomfortably aware of the set of eyes staring at you curled up and facing the wall.

Jake’s hand brushes the back of your head gently, and you’re not sure if that means you’ve been caught, but then you feel Jake’s fingers brush a section of hair away from your neck and nearly sigh at the feeling of his mouth pressing a kiss to the nape of your neck. It is so sweet, so fond and gentle, and annoyingly quick. He pulls away and the sound of wheels roll towards his own bunk.

Every sound he makes feels like it’s right in your ear. 

You almost wish you’d rolled over and took his face into your hands. But Jake’s smooch against your nape feels like a stolen secret, something shared between only you two, something special. 

No matter, you think as you wriggle to get comfortable. He’ll be there in the morning. And it’ll be the man you’ve wanted the entire time who wants you back who receives all your stirring desires.

[ham1lton]

‘good luck, babe’ smau?

IS IT CASUAL NOW?

summary: y/n said no, charles is married and that should be the end of it. or is it?

sequel (?) to good luck, babe!

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

liked by nosygal1, charlesyntruther and 367,809 others

ham1ltonshaderoom: enemies turned lovers? married man charles leclerc seen with his former best friend turned foe, yn yln, in london. the two were reportedly very close with her ordering his dinner at the restaurant they were at.

charles had a lavish wedding with his long term girlfriend only eight months ago. is there trouble in paradise? what are we thinking about the photos ham1ltons?

view all comments

user1: yn and charles casually walking around together like they haven’t been enemies for years… be so fr

user2: nah cause what tf does his WIFE think about this???

— user7: i would be throwing dishes rihanna style.

— user2: like okay go fuck your weird bestie decade long situationship!!!! i’m gonna key your car!!!! bitch!!!!

user3: don’t care don’t care charlesyn besties forever <3

user4: drive to survive about to eat this up omg

user5: some of y’all need to touch grass, they were friends before all the drama happened??

user6: oh we’re just PRETENDING like this isn’t weird?? like they haven’t ignored each other for literal YEARS???

user8: i just know charles’ pr team is STRESSED

user9: let’s not forget that they stopped even mentioning each other’s names and now they’re just out in broad daylight like this… something is UP

user10: if my husband was out here with his ex-bestie-turned-enemy-turned-idk-what i’d be calling a lawyer

— user10: for me, bc i’d kill him sorry 🤷🏼‍♀️

user11: yn has been besties with him since forever, y’all are reaching. they were so close back in the day

user12: cheating allegations already flying i fear we are not surviving this one

user13: CHARLESYNNIES WE SURVIVED THE DROUGHT

user14: his wife is either unbothered or currently flipping tables and i need to know which

user15: they’ve done this for years pls let them BREATHE

— user11: like omg if you’re mad at this you would never have survived rookie charlesyn.

user16: the way their whole relationship is a mystery and now this just makes it worse

— user17: sextape next?

— user16: …. WHAT?!

user18: i don’t even know what to think anymore but the timeline is EATINGGG

user19: first enemies now back to being seen in public like nothing happened… yeah something’s going on

user20: charles and yn being the biggest mystery in motorsport history is so on brand

────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ──────

[justporo]

Imagine Astarion stays at camp one day for whatever reason. You're out the whole day with the party adventuring.

At first everything is all good, splendid even. Astarion practically makes a show out of how much of a day off he needed. The others staying behind just eye him in that way they do when he's being annoying (which quite frankly is often).

After a while though he notices how his thoughts keep wandering back to you. First it's only brief, he brushes it off as if nothing happened.

But Astarion's thoughts keep circling back to you, until he notices he's been staring at the same page of the book he's reading for half an hour. And it hits him.

Gods above and below, he's actually worried about you. What if something happens to you during the time you're out with the others? Can the others really be trusted with keeping you safe and sound. Probably not. What if everyone else gets wiped and it's you alone and injured somewhere. Unthinkable!

The horror scenarios keep coming and Astarion starts walking circles around camp losing himself in thought spirals of what could happen to you. His anxiety has his hackles raised and he has the skill (issue) to rile everyone else up also with his nervous wandering and mumbling.

Lae’zel is about ready to decapitate him while Gale tries to calm him (thereby only making it worse foe Astarion) as the adventure party returns.

You're startled when the vampire immediately comes over, basically running, and asks about how you're doing while simultaneously conducting a visual inspection of you.

When you answer that you're fine and Astarion hasn't found but a scratch on you he notices that everyone in camp is staring at the two of you. There's a bit of a knowing smile on some of the other's faces while Lae’zel looks like she's about to barf.

"Well," Astarion tries to play over it nonchalantly (and failing) "just making sure my dinner isn't spoiled, darling. I wouldn't want to have to send you back to the chef."

The others turn away while rolling their eyes.

You though feel how warmth floods through you despite the exhaustion of a long day dragging on your limbs.

"We can't have that, can we?" you humour Astarion’s stupid joke with a real smile.

You walk over to where he's standing, arms awkwardly crossed over his chest, and grab one of his hands to squeeze it in thanks.

He squeezes it back, also smiling.

"I'm glad you're okay, darling."

[ekingston]

Friends! Lovers! Writers of fan fiction, foe fiction and original fiction alike! Are you drowning in WIPs? Do you find yourself procrastinating instead of writing? Do you abandon all of your current projects every time you think of a shiny new idea? Fear not! I’m here to make your problems even WORSE by bringing you a

The following picker wheels will randomly assign you a genre, a premise, a trope, and a subject (an item, concept or character that has to come up in your fic in some way).

The challenge is to write a fic up to 1000 words long.

For extra credit, make it exactly 100, 250, 500, 750 or 1000 words long.

Please reblog with the prompts you were given, and if you’re up to the challenge, link to your work in the comments!

If you like, you can add your work to the collection on ao3. It’s categorized as multi_fandom_flash_fiction.

I’ll also be regularly updating the masterlist here.

Have fun & thanks for playing!

[belovaballerina]

Sanguine Bond

House of the Dragon: Jacaerys x twin!reader (mentions of Jace x Baela and Dalton Greyjoy x reader)

Rating: Explicit (Minors DNI) 

WC: 1.8 k 

Warnings: Targcest/twincest, possessive!Jace, rough sex, blood, spanking (belt), blow jobs, knifeplay, mild humiliation

Summary: There are bonds others wouldn’t understand; the one between you and Jace runs deep

As you gripped the reigns tighter, your heart thrummed in your chest, like a hummingbird fluttering their wings in desperation. Gaelithox’s jade wings flapped hard, navigating through a slender opening between two cliffs, guiding your passage to Dragonstone. Blistering dragonfire exploded behind you, the heat singing your back and the end of your braid. You swallowed the fear before you barked the order,

“Aderī, Gaelithox!”

Your slender, swift dragon picked up speed, crossing the threshold that Aemond wouldn’t dare enter. You didn’t risk looking behind you when you heard Vhagar’s angry roar billow through the sky, which vibrated intensely through your bones. You hadn’t realized you had been holding your breath since giving the command until your throat spasmed and lips parted, allowing you to draw in a ragged gasp of air. Gaelithox parted her massive jaw and gave a screech of triumph as she lowered herself toward the lip of the Dragonmount.

Fear dissipated as a smug feeling of victory flooded through you as you dismounted and removed your moleskin gloves, walking toward the entrance of Dragonstone. You had secured the allegiance of Lord Dalton Greyjoy. The Red Kraken had been impressed with your command of Gaelithox and your bold tongue, and you didn’t see the harm in allowing him to believe he could have your hand in marriage once your mother’s throne was secure. He was bloodthirsty and a bit deranged, but if you had to follow through, so be it. There were worse matches.

You made straight for your mother’s quarters, and she embraced you once your presence was announced. Your twin, Jacaerys, and cousin, Baela, occupied the seats surrounding you, and you could feel your brother’s intense gaze lingering on you. From the corner of your eye, you saw Baela’s grip tighten around his hand.

“Was a pact agreed upon?” Rhaenyra asked, drawing your hands into her own, smoothing her thumbs across your knuckles.

“Indeed, it was. When all the dust settles, and you have your throne, I may have to wed Lord Greyjoy, but I’ll do so willingly, Mother,” you smiled, and she tilted her head.

“Only if you wish otherwise, I will not allow it,” she assured you, drawing you tightly into her arms.

“Well done, cousin,” Baela smiled, and you turned to face her and Jace, noting how tightly his jaw was set. Those dark eyes smoldered intensely, and you knew what the night held for you. A bit of guilt gnawed in your stomach. Baela was his intended, and you should not betray her in such a way, but you knew Jace would never be your husband. What was a harmless tryst? It would end once they were properly wed.

“If you’ll excuse me, I’d like to bathe and change. Aemond gave me quite the chase,” you said.

Jace’s dark eyes widened, and your mother frowned.

“I should not have sent you alone,” Rhaenyra sighed.

“I did not anticipate that Aemond would be on his way to secure an alliance; he was most vexed,” you smirked. “He turned tail once I reached Dragonstone, so nothing to fret over.”

Baela laughed at your flippancy, nodding her approval while a thin line set across Jace’s mouth, his fingers digging into the thick fabric of his trousers and his knuckles turning white. Rhaenyra reached out to stroke your cheek.

“Do not be so careless, my heart. Aemond is a worthy foe, and you should not let your guard down around him,” she lectured.

You nodded, giving her your best sheepish look. “Apologies, Mother, I won’t be so foolish again.”

She nodded, giving you a soft smile. “Go and recover from your eventful day.”

You felt Jace’s eyes burning into your back as you escaped to the privacy of your chambers. Two of your ladies helped you undress from your riding clothes as the others prepared a steaming bath with jasmine oil. You removed the dagger from your boot, running your thumb over the sharp blade. It also resembled the one Jace had, both gifted daggers on your eight-and-ten namedays. The dagger's hilt resembled a curved dragon’s head, with two rubies glistening in the eye sockets. A crimson bead of blood blossomed against the calloused pad of your thumb as a memory came rushing forward.

“Blood of my blood,” you whispered, pressing your bleeding finger to Jace’s mouth.

“Flesh of my flesh,” he replied, his blood as sharp against your tongue as the two of you shared a private moment on the beach of Dragonstone under the glistening silver moon.

His flesh melded against yours, mouth hot and hungry, like a starving beast longing to be satiated. Your nails clawed the smooth, pale skin of his back, bringing more blood forth as a beast awakened from deep inside you. Your dragon roaring, fervid, and tumultuous, consuming your being. Fire and blood. 

You were left in peace, dagger placed on the table, soaking in the balmy water as you closed your eyes, allowing the warmth to carry you away. You were startled awake a few minutes later, water sloshing over the tub's sides as Jace’s fingers tangled in your hair. You stared into his brown eyes; the warmth usually filling them was gone.

“Jace, what are you doing?” you demanded, his grip tightening in your hair, and out of your peripheral vision, you spotted the secret entrance next to your cupboard open—the sneaky shit. 

His jaw flexed with his displeasure, making your stomach twist as your pearl throbbed with desire. You loved it when this side of him came out, and it’s how you justified the dalliance. You embraced the darker side, the side only a twin could understand, while Baela got the best of him.

“You were foolish,” he spat, glowering.

“You’re jealous,” you teased, squealing when he let go of your hair and thrust his hands under your arms, tugging you out of the warm water. You shivered, dripping and bare before him.

“And what would I be jealous of?” he asked darkly as you wrapped your arms around your exposed chest to provide modesty and warmth.

“That I could secure an alliance without you and that I might marry Lord Greyjoy,” you stated, towing a dangerous line. His temper lingered deep beneath the finely crafted facade, and the dragonfire would burn you when it exploded. But you welcomed it. You did not wish to be treated like a dainty princess and craved things that would set your teeth on edge: blood and fire.

“You need to be taught a lesson,” Jace hissed.

“Then give me one,” you purred before crashing your lips against his.

The kiss was brutal, punishing, bruising. His teeth scraped against your lower lip, blood welling from the shallow splits as it spilled into his mouth. He pushed your wet, naked body over the chair and slipped his heavy leather belt free after removing the dagger and sword. It whistled through the air, leaving a sharp crack of pain against your vulnerable backside. A moan spilled from your mouth. Ten lashes left your skin searing and your cunt dripping.

“Get on your knees,” Jace growled, and you carefully moved, sinking before him with tear-stained cheeks.

You watched with eager eyes and a watering mouth as he freed his cock, dangling it in front of your face before slapping the leaking, ruddy tip against your lips. You parted your mouth, drawing his large cock as deep as it would go, more wetness spilling down your eyes.

“How pretty you look with my cock shoved in your mouth, sister. How quiet you are then,” he cooed, thrusting his hips to drive himself deeper.

You sputtered around him, taking what he gave you. You wondered if Dalton Greyjoy would understand this side of you, how you craved being taken in hand and humiliated, yet allowed you the freedom you also enjoyed. Once Jace’s cock was slick with your spit, he removed himself from your mouth and took you over the bed. There was a gentleness to him now, some of the fire simmering out. You tugged off his breeches, removing his vest and tunic until he was as naked as you were.

He laid beneath you, guiding you to mouth his enormous cock, trembling as he watched it split through your slick folds. You whined, tossing your head back as damp tendrils of hair clung to your shoulders until you were fully seated on him. You were a gifted dragon rider, after all. You felt stuffed, like you might split in two as you accommodated your twin’s girth and length. His large hands settled on your hips as you began to move, reaching down to lightly fondle a few of the dark curls falling in front of his hooded eyes.

“Blood of my blood, sister,” he whispered, hands sliding up to cup your breasts.

“Flesh of my flesh, brother,” you purred, riding him faster as the heat in your belly blossomed further through your body.

“I wish you could be mine,” he confessed.

“I know, but the stars are not aligned for us,” you whispered, tightening around him.

He lifted his top half, pressing into you, his arms circling your back as he filled you with his seed, and you crashed into euphoric bliss, holding tightly to him. The time would come when you had to separate, clinging to these memories. Ones only the two of you shared. He slipped free, tucking you under the covers as he petted your damp hair.

“I will carry you in my heart, always, sister.”

You smiled, kissing each pad of his rough fingertips. “Just as I will with you, brother.”

You padded over the table, dagger in hand. While straddling Jace’s waist, the two of you exchanged bloody lips and bloody fingers once again.

~~

The years faded, and one day, you found yourself curtseying before your brother and cousin as they now ruled as King and Queen of Westeros. You had married Dalton Greyjoy, enjoying his company a great deal, and learned to love the smell of the salty sea. It seemed your paths were destined to cross again as Jace’s gaze settled on you, that unmistakable look in his dark eyes.’

“We welcome you and Lord Greyjoy to court, sister. It is wonderful to see you again,” Jace said, his gaze lingering on your eldest son, with his dark curls and eyes. Traits easily passed off as your own. You wouldn’t make the same mistake your mother did.

He took you in the garden that night, the bloom of the roses filling your senses as the thorns nipped your skin. You gazed up into the inky sky as your fingers slipped through his silken curls, the blade pressed against your throat. The bond would never be broken, as you willed his seed to take once again.

[wearepaladin]

It’s been a year since I last asked this. Always curious to see where people’s thoughts are. For the uninitiated, a brief description of the outlined paths under the jump.

Oath of Devotion:

The Oath of Devotion binds a paladin to the loftiest ideals of justice, virtue, and order. Sometimes called cavaliers, white knights, or holy warriors, these paladins meet the ideal of the knight in shining armor, acting with honor in pursuit of justice and the greater good. They hold themselves to the highest standards of conduct, and some, for better or worse, hold the rest of the world to the same standards. Many who swear this oath are devoted to gods of law and good and use their gods' tenets as the measure of their devotion. They hold angels – the perfect servants of good – as their ideals, and incorporate images of angelic wings into their helmets or coats of arms

Oath of the Ancients:

The Oath of the Ancients is as old as the race of elves and the rituals of the druids. Sometimes called fey knights, green knights, or horned knights, paladins who swear this oath cast their lot with the side of the light in the cosmic struggle against darkness because they love the beautiful and life-giving things of the world, not necessarily because they believe in principles of honor, courage, and justice. They adorn their armor and clothing with images of growing things-leaves, antlers, or flowers-to reflect their commitment to preserving life and light in the world

Oath of Vengeance

The Oath of Vengeance is a solemn commitment to punish those who have committed a grievous sin. When evil forces slaughter helpless villagers, when an entire people turns against the will of the gods, when a thieves' guild grows too violent and powerful, when a dragon rampages through the countryside – at times like these, paladins arise and swear an Oath of Vengeance to set right that which has gone wrong. To these paladins – sometimes called avengers or dark knights – their own purity is not as important as delivering justice.

Oath of Redemption

The Oath of Redemption sets a paladin on a difficult path, one that requires a holy warrior to use violence only as a last resort. Paladins who dedicate themselves to this oath believe that any person can be redeemed and that the path of benevolence and justice is one that anyone can walk. These paladins face evil creatures in the hope of turning them to the light, and the paladins slay them only when such a deed will clearly save other lives. Paladins who follow this path are known as redeemers.

While redeemers are idealists, they are no fools. Redeemers know that undead, demons, devils, and other supernatural threats can be inherently evil. Against such foes, the paladins bring the full wrath of their weapons and spells to bear. Yet the redeemers still pray that, one day, even creatures of wickedness will invite their own redemption.

Oath of the Crown

The Oath of the Crown is sworn to the ideals of civilization, be it the spirit of a nation, fealty to a sovereign, or service to a deity of law and rulership. The paladins who swear this oath dedicate themselves to serving society and, in particular, the just laws that hold society together. These paladins are the watchful guardians on the walls, standing against the chaotic tides of barbarism that threaten to tear down all that civilization has built, and are commonly known as guardians, exemplars, or sentinels. Often, paladins who swear this oath are members of an order of knighthood in service to a nation or a sovereign, and undergo their oath as part of their admission to the order's ranks

Oath of the Watchers

The Oath of the Watchers binds paladins to protect mortal realms from the predations of extraplanar creatures, many of which can lay waste to mortal soldiers. Thus, the Watchers hone their minds, spirits, and bodies to be the ultimate weapons against such threats.

Paladins who follow the Watchers' oath are ever vigilant in spotting the influence of extraplanar forces, often establishing a network of spies and informants to gather information on suspected cults. To a Watcher, keeping a healthy suspicion and awareness about one's surroundings is as natural as wearing armor in battle.

Oath of Conquest

The Oath of Conquest calls to paladins who seek glory in battle and the subjugation of their enemies. It isn’t enough for these paladins to establish order. They must crush the forces of chaos. Sometimes called knight tyrants or iron mongers, those who swear this oath gather into grim orders that serve gods or philosophies of war and well-ordered might.

Some of these paladins go so far as to consort with the powers of the Nine Hells, valuing the rule of law over the balm of mercy. The archdevil Bel, warlord of Avernus, counts many of these paladins – called hell knights – as his most ardent supporters. Hell knights cover their armor with trophies taken from fallen enemies, a grim warning to any who dare oppose them and the decrees of their lords. These knights are often most fiercely resisted by other paladins of this oath, who believe that the hell knights have wandered too far into darkness.

Oath of Glory

Paladins who take the Oath of Glory believe they and their companions are destined to achieve glory through deeds of heroism. They train diligently and encourage their companions so they're all ready when destiny calls, and prove more than equal to the challenge

Oathbreaker

An oathbreaker is a paladin who breaks their sacred oaths to pursue some dark ambition or serve an evil power. Whatever light burned in the paladin's heart been extinguished. Only darkness remains.

[poohsources]

🐝  *  ―  𝑬𝑷𝑰𝑪: 𝑻𝑯𝑬 𝑴𝑼𝑺𝑰𝑪𝑨𝑳 𝑺𝑬𝑵𝑻𝑬𝑵𝑪𝑬 𝑺𝑻𝑨𝑹𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑺.

Troy Saga ❛  do what i say and you'll see them again.  ❜ ❛  what do you live for? what do you try for?  ❜ ❛  say no more, i know tat i'm ready.  ❜ ❛  the blood on your hands is something you won't lose.  ❜ ❛  is the price i pay endless pain?  ❜ ❛  something feels off here, i see fire but there's no smoke.  ❜ ❛  we should try to find a way no one ends up dead.  ❜ ❛  why should we take when we could give?  ❜ ❛  i see in your face, there's so much guilt inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  have you forgotten the lessons i taught you?  ❜

The Cyclops Saga ❛  it's almost too perfect, too god to be true.  ❜ ❛  what gives you the right to deal a pain so deep?  ❜ ❛  your life now is in my hand.  ❜ ❛  remember them, we're the ones who carry on.  ❜ ❛  what good would killing do when mercy is a skill more of this world could learn to use?  ❜ ❛  i am your darkest moment.  ❜ ❛  i don't know where i went wrong but i warned ya', and you failed the test.  ❜ ❛  that's just like you, why should i be surprised?  ❜ ❛  unlike you, every time someone dies i'm left to deal with the strain.  ❜ ❛  i'll remind you i saw you as a friend but now we're done.  ❜

The Ocean Saga ❛  at this rate, we won't make it out alive.  ❜ ❛  please don't tell me you're about to do what i think you'll do.  ❜ ❛  yes, but how much longer til your luck runs out?  ❜ ❛  you rely on wit, and people die on it.  ❜ ❛  you're like the brother i could never do without.  ❜ ❛  and suddenly you doubt that i could figure this out?�� ❜ ❛  keep your friends close and your enemies closer, never really know who you can trust.  ❜ ❛  'cause the end always justifies the means.  ❜ ❛  do you know who i am?  ❜ ❛  you are the worst kind of good 'cause you're not even great.  ❜

The Circe Saga ❛  whatever you need to say can wait some more.  ❜ ❛  there's no length i wouldn't go if it was you i had to save.  ❜ ❛  wouldn't you like a taste of the power?  ❜ ❛  don't thank me friend, you very well may die.  ❜ ❛  did you do something to them?  ❜ ❛  if you make one wrong move, then you're done for.  ❜ ❛  you and i are now evenly matched.  ❜ ❛  you've given me no reason to bestow you with my trust.  ❜ ❛  who's to say, with the mistakes i've made that they will be the last mistakes i ever make?  ❜ ❛  this is the price we pay to love.  ❜

The Underworld Saga ❛  all i hear are screams, every time i dare to close my eyes.  ❜ ❛  i no longer dream, only nigtmares of those who've died.  ❜ ❛  when does a man become a monster?  ❜ ❛  now you tell us our effort's are for nothing?  ❜ ❛  how has everything been turned against us?  ❜ ❛  do i need to change?  ❜ ❛  i'm the only one whose line i haven't crossed.  ❜ ❛  what if i'm the problem that's been hiding all along?  ❜ ❛  what if i've been far too kind to foes but a monster to ourselves?  ❜ ❛  if i became the monster and threw that guilt away would that make us stronger?  ❜

The Thunder Saga ❛  you wouldn't have spared me. i made a mistake like this, it almost cost my life.  ❜ ❛  i've got a secret i can no longer keep.  ❜ ❛  you know that we are the same.  ❜ ❛  we must do what it takes to survive.  ❜ ❛  tell me you did not know that would happen.  ❜ ❛  if you want all the power, you must carry all the blame.  ❜ ❛  how are we supposed to trust you now?  ❜ ❛  how much longer must i suffer now?  ❜ ❛  someone's gotta die today and you have got the final say.  ❜ ❛  please don't make me do this.  ❜

The Wisdom Saga ❛  you've made your worst mistake here.  ❜ ❛  this cruel world doesn't give out presents just for being good.  ❜ ❛  you're my friend, i couldn't ask for more.  ❜ ❛  did you know you talk in your sleep?  ❜ ❛  i'm what you want here, i'm what you need here.  ❜ ❛  you don't know what i've gone through.  ❜ ❛  i know your life's been hard, i'll stay inside your heart.  ❜ ❛  life would be so much worse if you had died.  ❜ ❛  you dare to defy me, to make me feel shame?  ❜ ❛  no one beats me, no one wins my game.  ❜

[moonmaiden1996]

There's a Dog in My Spot

Astarion catches you in bed with with someone else. Humour

The soft glow of the campfire had long since faded, leaving the world swathed in a serene, quiet darkness. the last embers of the fire softly curling in the gentle wind. The night should have been peaceful—ideal for restful slumber or perhaps something more mischievous.

Astarion had been on a hunt, reveling in the thrill of the chase and the satisfaction of finding a particularly robust boar. Its blood was rich, leaving him warm and feeling slightly frisky. Frisky enough to perhaps to indulge in a little rump in your bedroll tonight. He made his way back to camp, eager to spend the night in the company of his beloved partner-in-crime.

But instead of a warm welcome, he found this.

A sharp intake of breath escaped him as his crimson eyes settled on the sight before him. “Absolutely unacceptable,” he muttered, his voice slicing through the still night like a dagger.

You stirred, cracking one eye open groggily. “Huh… what?”

“This!” Astarion hissed, gesturing dramatically toward the foot of your bedroll while tapping his foot with exaggerated impatience. “This betrayal of the highest order!”

Propping yourself up on one elbow, you blinked blearily, trying to follow his gaze. It led you to Scratch, who lay blissfully curled up, tail twitching in his sleep.

“What are you talking about?” you asked, your voice heavy with sleep.

He crossed his arms, looking affronted. “Your furry companion has claimed my spot—right there.” He jabbed a finger at the space beside you. “My place, darling. Mine. I can hardly believe my eyes.”

Still half-asleep, you blinked again. “Astarion, it’s just Scratch. He’s warm, and he was already here when I laid down.”

“That is no excuse!” he declared, his tone sharp and faintly wounded. “I step away for a mere moment—one!—and suddenly, I’m replaced in your bed by a mangy mutt? What’s next? A bear? A snake? Or…” He shuddered dramatically. “Even worse, Gale?”

Suppressing a laugh, you sighed. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“I am not,” he insisted, clutching his chest as though he’d been gravely injured. “I’m simply pointing out the sheer audacity of this situation. And look at him! He doesn’t even have the decency to look guilty!”

Scratch, oblivious to the chaos, let out a soft snore and stretched his paws, clearly unbothered.

Your lips twitched as you fought to keep from laughing. “If it bothers you that much, why don’t you just move him?”

Astarion shot the sleeping dog a look of disdain mingled with reluctant hesitation. “Move him? Me? With my hands? Darling, he drools.”

Rolling your eyes, you sat up fully. “Fine. I’ll move him.”

“Absolutely not,” Astarion said quickly, stepping forward as though to stop you. “You’ve done quite enough damage by letting this happen in the first place. I’ll… handle it.”

Lowering himself into a crouch, he reached out, poking Scratch’s side with the utmost delicacy. “You. Yes, you, fur-covered usurper. Off you go.”

Scratch stirred, blinking awake before wagging his tail with unbridled enthusiasm. In a display of canine affection, he licked Astarion’s outstretched hand, earning a strangled noise of horror.

“Ugh! Disgusting!” Astarion recoiled, wiping his hand furiously on his trousers as though he’d been branded. He turned to glare at you, as if this entire ordeal was your fault. “I’ll need to disinfect thoroughly after this.”

Despite his protests, Scratch eventually rose, stretching lazily before padding a few steps away to settle down once more with a contented yawn.

“There,” Astarion said, standing and dusting off his hands as though he’d performed a monumental task. “Crisis averted.”

You shook your head, amused. “You’re absurd. You know that, right?”

“Am I?” he asked, sliding gracefully into the now-vacant spot beside you. “Or am I simply a man who understands his worth?” He flashed you a smug smirk, leaning back with all the self-satisfaction of someone who had just triumphed over a formidable foe.

Smiling, you laid back down, tugging the blanket over both of you. “You’re something, all right.”

“Something irresistible,” he quipped, draping an arm around your waist and pulling you close.

You let out a sleepy chuckle, nestling against him. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

His voice softened, his earlier indignation melting away as he pressed a gentle kiss to your temple. “Goodnight, my darling.”

Nearby, Scratch let out another snore, causing Astarion to sigh in exasperation. “But truly, the audacity of that dog…”

You only smiled, drifting off to sleep, content in the knowledge that both your vampire and your canine were exactly where they belonged.

Sooooo- What do you think? I am loving writing these cute little fics. As always LIKE.COMMENT.REVIEW. If you have a request make sure to leave anything you want to see.