#and second of all most of the time if you actually look with your eyeballs you’d see that it isnt the exact same piece of clothing at all

[chronic-invisibility]

It’s so weird to me how every time i start engaging in a new fandom and i see people who ship two of the characters/actors coming up with the wildest fan theories, like sometimes people are so blinded by the need to gush about their *uwu gayboys* that they lose the ability to observe physical objects and also be fucking normal about anything ever.

[vxnuslogy]

– jealous charms.

pairing: wise x gn!reader

premise: when jealous, wise had an interesting habit of trying to outdo whoever caught your attention. he needn't worry though, he'll still be your favorite forever.

– warnings: none

– author's note: another filler fic until i finish that one sunday fic that i've been marinating for 2 days now. | ~1.7k words.

“master, is it safe to conclude that you’re jealous of miss grace howards from belobog industries? you’ve been awfully engrossed in trying to replicate her creation for [name].”

a loud clatter echoed in the room as the pair of pliers in wise’s hand suddenly dropped to his work table. your head darts to wise’s hunched figure. his back was awfully straight and shoulders tensed as you raised an amused brow at him when he stood up from his seat and marched his way to fairy. muttering quiet curses as the bangboo on your lap tilted its head at him.

“is that why you’ve been glaring at her whenever we visit the construction site?” you questioned with a teasing tone. wise swiveled his head to your direction and narrowed his gentle eyes at you but you only let out an amused snort. he looked more like a wet cat than a big shot proxy with the way his cheeks burned red all the way to the tips of his ears. the color could probably rival the red tassel earring you gave him last year on chinese new years.

“firstly, i am not jealous–”

“i would beg to differ, master.”

“second!” wise turned to fairy, a hand to his hip while the other ran down his face, voice raising slightly as he tried to rid off the flustered tint on his cheeks. “if i were to be jealous of someone, it wouldn’t be grace.”

“will mister anton from belobog industries be the next candidate?” the ai quipped at him making the gray haired boy groan in frustration.

a laugh rippled from your chest as wise pouted and begrudgingly went back to his work station. but not before narrowing his eyes one last time at a glowing blue eyeball (?) that was fairy.

“aww wise it’s okay,” you gently place the bangboo down on the floor and make your way to wise. trying your hardest to take a peek at whatever he’s been working on. or at least get confirmation that he was actually making what you thought he was making. “everyone gets jealous sometimes.”

wise didn’t appreciate your teasing remark because he rolled his eyes at you and threw a piece of paper at your face. “seeing as though you’re not doing anything, do me a favor and pick up some more films for the store.”

it was your turn to pout. “jealousy doesn’t suit you at all, wise.”

with a sigh, you reluctantly left the room when he raised a brow at you with a smirk tugging at his lips. you hated how such a small quirk up of his lips melted all of your teasing. but then again, when it comes to anything related to wise you didn’t put up too much of a fight, no matter what it was.

– –

wise was not jealous. he repeatedly reminded himself of those words like a broken record. reciting it like a mantra in his head as he continued to bend and break the pieces of metal in front of him.

“master, now that the subject of your affection is gone, will you finally admit to being jealous?”

fairy’s words sent a shiver down his spine, silently thanking belle and you for going out to the arcade and prolonging your inevitable return even more. if either one of you heard fairy, he wouldn’t be able to live it down. a defeated sigh left his lips when he dropped his tools and buried his head in his arms.

“fairy, please just shut up.” wise’s voice was no more than a muffled plea as fairy continued to torment him.

“but all the data i’ve collected all share the same conclusion: you are jealous master.”

wise turned his head to their hdd system that glowed blue as fairy’s avatar floated. “okay so maybe i am a little jealous.” 

“but why, master?” wise felt an oncoming headache approach as fairy listed out the reason why he shouldn’t be jealous. “hollow raider [name] has made it clear on many occasions that they favor you the most. their sudden interest in miss grace howards cannot compare to their interest in you.”

wise knew that but it still didn’t feel right to him. with a groan he dropped his head back on the desk, his free hand coming to inspect the silver band he’s been working on for the past few weeks. “you’re making me feel stupid here, fairy.” an uncharacteristic pout graced his lips when he remembered how your eyes shined like bright diamonds when grace showed you her newest invention.

“it’ll help you in the hollows!” she had proudly proclaimed. and ever since that day, you’ve been wearing the bracelet that doubled as a tracker for both your health and your position to every mission you took on. wise felt the pricks of jealousy whenever you praised the older woman with a dazzling grin and an excited “it was very helpful!”

“i’m also helpful.” he muttered to no one in particular. 

“of course you are! you’re my proxy after all.”

wise felt his heart lurch out his chest as he hurried hid the band inside his hand when you appeared in the room. like a deer caught in headlights, he stiffly smiled at you. “w-when did you get back…?” he cooly asked, or at least he hoped it sounded cool enough for you to brush off whatever you heard.

with your hands behind your back, you stalked your way to his desk. “just a moment ago. belle is shelving all the new films now.” you lean in closer to wise’s space, trying for the second time to catch a glimpse at whatever it was he was working on. a tentative smile forming on your face when you ask him, “will you finally show me what you’re making? i won’t laugh, i promise.”

you certainly wouldn’t laugh, but you would tease him relentlessly. a final sigh escaped him as he leaned back on his seat and opened up the hand that hid his creation. “it’s… really nothing.” his voice was unusually timid when you walked over to his desk and took a peak. being in such close proximity with you has his poor heart and mind swimming. you wore perfume today and it was all wise could think about as you gingerly pick up the silver band.

“you need to give yourself more credit, wise.” 

this wasn’t good. if you continued to look at him like that he would surely melt into a puddle, and that would be incredibly embarrassing. a smile broke out from your face as you unclipped grace’s wristband and put wise’s creation on your wrist.

“does it have any functions?” wise has always enjoyed your curious nature. sure, it got you in trouble most of the time, but he found it incredibly endearing. he shook his head and opened up the closest drawer and pulled out a matching band several sizes smaller. “not any advanced ones, not yet at least.”

wise stood up from his seat and picked up the bangboo peacefully dozing off in one of the corners. taking its small arm gently, he slid the band over and glowed a soft white. the same thing happened to the one you wore and wise swore he felt his heart skip a few beats when you looked at him with big eyes filled with wonder.

“but it can accurately track your ether aptitude and send me an emergency message when you’re reaching your limit,” picking up the bangboo in his arms, wise made his way back to his desk and placed the little creature on it. “it’s still a work in progress, but i hope it’ll eventually be able to map out full hollows without much trouble.” 

your silence made wise nervous. you were never this quiet and he didn’t dare to look at you. that is until he felt a pair of arms wrap around his head and the scent of your perfume invading his senses. his breath started to quicken as you nuzzled your face into his hair, hands resting on his shoulders. wise felt his entire body tingle when your chuckle vibrated through his entire body and left a fuzzy feeling in his chest, a swarm of freed butterflies fluttering inside his stomach when you pulled away. warm hands holding both of his cheeks that were no doubt burning a bright red.

“did you make this for me?” wise didn’t like the way your eyes crinkled into amused crescents. “or did you just want to outstage miss grace?” he heard your laugh ring out when he turned his head to the side and murmured a soft maybe into your palm.

“god you’re so cute you know that?” a wide smile spread across your face as you smothered the boy into another hug. “don’t worry, no one could ever replace my proxy.”

wise wasn’t a physically affectionate person, not by a lot at least. but right now when he feels your laughter so close to his heart, he can’t help but wish to stay in your embrace. his arms slowly snaked to wrap around your waist and pull you closer, wanting to hug you like how your skin hugs the bones that make up your entirety. how lovely it must be to live inside your heart, to feel every beat pulsing through him as he listens to your heartbeat. slightly erratic but still calm, so unlike his that was beating so rapidly he feared it might escape his ribs and offer itself to you. 

“maybe i was a little jealous.” he didn’t know what urged him to say that but the laughter it stole from you made him smile like a fool. wise would stay jealous forever if you would hug him like this every time to assure him that he was still your favorite form of protection.

“thank you for always caring about me, wise.” there was such vulnerability in your voice that made wise tremble in your hold. all he could offer was a hum as he buried his head further into your chest making you chuckle. if only you knew the lengths he would go to just to keep you glued to his side, away from all harm and danger.

© vxnuslogy 2024. do not plagiarize, repost, or translate any of my works without my knowledge or consent in other platforms or websites.

[flowersforbucky]

higher than heaven

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 5.5k - my masterlist

summary: bucky's first time smoking 🍃 since the 40s. bucky finds you smoking alone one night, leading to two of you growing much closer.

warnings/tags: use of marijuana, language, brief use of alcohol, nightmares, ptsd, anxiety, pining and tension, heated kissing, friends to lovers, pretty fucking fluffy, no use of y/n, fem reader, 18+ only

author's note: no smut? gasp! everything else i've written for bucky has contained smut so bare with me, i just wanted to take a break for some fun and fluffy (but still tension-filled) toking.

a/n 2: bucky and reader smoke in this, but i wouldn't say that's the main focus of this fic, just something that brings them closer together. i tried not to focus too much on that aspect, and also tried not to give too vivid of descriptions of being stoned so hopefully readers who don't smoke 🍃 can still enjoy this fic for the fluff and feels. however, if this is a triggering topic for you in any way, please be careful and read at your own discretion 🖤

The Avenger's compound truly has everything you could ever need. A state of the art gymnasium and training center, indoor and outdoor pools, beautifully maintained grounds with walking trails and lake access.

And, one of your favorite things, no shortage of secluded smoking spots.

Tonight's choice? The roof directly above the living quarters. This is likely the spot that you frequent the most, out of sheer convenience.

You keep a couple of extra folding chairs stashed in the stairwell, for the rare occasions that you can convince Natasha or Wanda to relax enough to join you.

Tonight, like most nights, you're by yourself. You don't mind - you enjoy this alone time. You usually come up here after missions to unwind before passing out in your bed.

It’s a chilly night, with temperatures finally dropping down into the low fifties as the early days of fall approach. You're bundled up in an oversized hoodie, sipping on oolong tea to warm you from the inside. In your left hand you clutch the warm mug, and with your right you pinch the tail-end of a burning joint between your thumb and index finger.

You've been up here long enough to have already burnt through one joint, and you now take slow, heady hits of a second as you wait for the meteor shower that's expected to begin over the northeastern United States any minute.

The creaking of the large metal door that leads to the roof startles you, causing you to break your gaze away from the stars littered above you in the New York sky. All the times you've come up here to watch the sunsets over the lake, no one has stumbled upon you. You're surprised by who emerges from the doorway a second later.

Bucky freezes in his tracks when he notices you sitting just a few yards in front of him.

“Oh, sorry,” he pauses, seemingly glancing around the roof to see if there's anyone else here with you. “I didn't expect - I didn't think anyone would be up here right now,” he stutters out.

“You're good,” you smile at him over your shoulder before turning your attention back to the sky. “Trying to get a good view of the meteors?”

“Yes, actually,” he says, surprised. You hear his boots scratching the pavement of the roof as he walks closer to you. You look up at him when he comes to a stop right next to where you're sitting.

“Well, you've come to the right place.” You gesture towards the scenery in front of you - the endless inky sky overlooking the lake next to the compound. “There's some extra chairs stashed in the stairwell, if you'd like one.”

“I didn't know that you smoke,” he says curiously, eyeballing the blazing joint still clutched between your fingers. He visibly sniffs a couple times, as if to confirm that he is indeed smelling what he thinks he is. He doesn't acknowledge your offer of a chair, instead choosing to sit directly on the cement, criss-crossing his legs at the ankles.

“Are you going to tell on me?” You ask as if what you're doing isn't perfectly legal and your friends don't already know.

“Your secret is safe with me,” he smirks up at you, eyes flicking between you and the joint.

“Want a hit?” You offer, extending your hand towards him. He hesitates, uncertainty blooming across his features.

“I haven't smoked since the forties,” he starts with an awkward laugh. He reaches up, carefully taking the joint from you and pinching it between his own two fingers and inspecting it. “I still remember the last joint I smoked before finding out that I had been drafted. If I had known it was going to be my last, I would've appreciated it a lot more.” There's a hint of nostalgia in his words.

You picture it - baby-faced Bucky, in his early twenties, with glossy blue eyes and a lazy, content smile. The thought makes your cheeks warm, and a small, sad smile spreads across your own face. That was a literal lifetime ago, and you didn't know if he had felt as carefree since then.

“Well,” you begin after a sip of your tea. “You're no longer property of the United States Army, or HYDRA, or any organization. So if you want to smoke, then smoke. And if not, that's okay, too, but give me my joint back because you're burning perfectly good weed right now.”

He chuckles at your scolding before bringing the joint up to his own lips and taking a slow, long puff. There's a sharp inhale before he erupts into a coughing fit, smoke billowing out in a cloud in front of him. You give him a few awkward pats on the back while he works through the burn that he is undoubtedly feeling in his esophagus.

“Damn, I've missed that,” he sighs once he has regained his composure. He holds the dwindling joint back up to you.

You shake your head. “Finish it off,” you insist. “I've already had one tonight. It’s all yours.”

You expect him to argue but to your surprise, he takes a second hit. And a third, and fourth, while you sit next to him in an amicable, comfortable silence. Soon, there's nothing left but a small roach that he stubs out against the cement next to where he sits.

“How're you feeling?” You ask, knowing that his tolerance has to be in the negatives if he hasn't smoked in over seventy years.

“If twenty-two year old Bucky knew that I was this stoned off half a joint, he'd never let me hear the end of it,” he says with an amused smile, propping back on the palms of his hands to stare up at you.

“Well, I think one-hundred and six year old Bucky is doing just fine for himself,” you muse. “Twenty-first century weed has got to be more potent than whatever dirt weed you were smoking in the forties, so cut yourself some sla–”

“I did not smoke dirt–”

“Look!” you exclaim, cutting him off as you point up at the sky. He goes quiet, following your gaze.

You both watch in awed silence as flashes of bright white-blues and purples begin to dash across the sky above you. At first, there's a bolt here and a bolt there - but before you know it, there's dozens - too many meteors to count, here and then gone in the blink of an eye. Where one disappears, another takes its place.

You lose track of how long the two you sit there, on the roof, under the shower of the shooting stars - and it has nothing to do with being stoned. They are just that mesmerizing.

“I think we’re supposed to make a wish,” you murmur after a long while, remembering the old legend about shooting stars. You watch the last few meteors as they burn out, and then the sky goes dark once more. When he doesn't respond, you glance down at where he sits to find that his eyes are closed.

You smile to yourself - you didn't actually plan on making a wish, and you definitely didn't expect him to. You figure that he is just humoring you, but you can't help but think how adorable it is nonetheless. You can't stop yourself from snorting a laugh, causing his eyes to snap open and up at you.

“What? Did you make your wish?” he demands, his tone serious.

You hum. A familiar, glowing warmth grows from your lips and down to your toes despite the chilly night air as you stare at him. You tell yourself it’s a physical effect of the marijuana.

“I think I’m good, actually.”

••••••

Every year, a different member of the Avengers chooses a charity to hold a gala in honor of.

Sam's choice last year, Homes For Our Troops, build specially adapted, custom homes for severely injured veterans. Natasha's choice the year before that, Children of the Night, is a non-profit organization dedicated to rescuing and rehabilitating children who have been victims of prostitution.

Always funded by the Stark Relief Foundation, always held in the most high-profile and illustrious venues that money can buy, and always filled to the brim with every philanthropist and major news reporter in the state of New York.

This year, for the first time, it was your turn to select a charity. You decided on Women For Women International - a noble and worthy cause that you are proud to raise awareness and donations for. However, now that three hours into the gala, you are fucking burnt out. From the moment that you and your teammates arrived at the venue, guests and reporters began forming lines for their chance at interviewing you or getting their picture taken with you. You feel like you’ve talked to every person in the building, except for the one person that you truly wanted to. Add in a ten minute long speech addressing five hundred plus guests, you are drained. Physically, mentally, and socially drained.

“You did incredible with your speech,” a soft voice says from behind you. “All that worrying for nothing.”

You're exhaling a sigh of relief at the familiar voice before you've finished turning around to meet his dimpled grin and deep blue eyes. You think he might just be as ready as you are to get out of here with the way he's already loosened his tie and unbuttoned the top button of his tux. His hair is tousled - though you haven't had a free moment to speak with him since the car ride over here with Sam and Steve, you have no doubt that he's ran his fingers through the short locks a few dozens times throughout the evening - a habit that flares up every time he's out of his element. With this being the first gala he's attended as an Avenger, and possibly the first gala he's ever attended, you're surprised he has any hair left.

“I wouldn't say for nothing,” you turn back to the bar in front of you and wave a singular finger to the bartender, signaling your desire for another drink. “I stuttered at least eight times, and lost my place on the page twice. I felt like I was going to puke shrimp cocktail and espresso martini all over the podium.”

You can see him grimace from your peripheral vision. He pulls out the barstool next to where you stand, and then takes a seat. You're pinned between the chair on the opposite side of you and his thigh, the cool silk of his pants tickling the bare skin of your leg where your dress cuts off just above mid-thigh. Close enough that you can feel warmth radiate from him and smell the essence of his piney aftershave. Subconsciously, you relax for the first time all evening.

“You are your own worst critic,” he reminds you, repeating the sentiment that he’s been saying to you for the last few weeks, anytime the gala or your speech would come up in conversation. “No one else noticed if you stuttered. They’re all too full of liquor, or too concerned with getting their photo op with Iron Man or The Hulk..” he trails off, glancing over his shoulder at where Tony and Bruce are both striking signature poses for some selfies with guests.

“And what about you? Have any of your fangirls begged you to take a picture with them?” You smirk at him as the bartender slides your martini across the countertop. You angle your body so that you’re now turned to face him, leaving practically no space between the two of you.

“More than I can count,” he exhales, and you force a laugh to not roll your eyes - not that you were surprised or that you could blame them for wanting their picture taken with him.

“Well, I’m glad that we were able to raise so much money,” you sigh into your drink. “But I would be lying if I said I’m also not glad that it’s over with. I’m ready to get these shoes off, submerge myself in a hot bath, and then sleep until tomorrow afternoon.”

“Always the introvert,” he murmurs, a sly grin appearing on his face. He carefully tugs the lapel of his jacket to the side and reaches his flesh hand inside, pulling out a tin of wintergreen Altoids. You look at him curiously as he gives the small container a shake. It makes no sound, seemingly empty of mints. You cock an eyebrow at him, about to ask him what the deal is, when a familiar, earthy scent wafts towards you.

“What’s in the tin, Buck?” you ask rhetorically, as if the odor isn’t a dead giveaway.

“Just a little something I’ve been saving for when I could finally get you alone tonight,” he shrugs, slipping the tin back inside the interior pocket of his jacket. Your heart skips a beat at the possibility that maybe he’d been wanting to talk to you, see you, spend time with you as much as you had him.

“I’m just happy to see that you finally have your own weed,” you tease, trying to polish off the remnants of your drink so that you can get the fuck out of here. “Now you can stop smoking all of mine.”

You’re just giving him a hard time, of course. You’d lost count of how many times the two of you have smoked together since the night of the meteor shower just two months ago, and you were more than happy to share your supply with him - he gives you a lopsided grin that tells you he knows you don’t actually mind.

“Hence why I have pre-rolled three joints just for you,” he quips back. “One for how much time and effort you put into this event, one for conquering your fear of public speaking, and one for how much of your weed you have let me smoke.”

Your cheeks warm at the thoughtful gesture. You swallow the last swig of the brown liquid and slide the glass back across the bar.

“What are we waiting for, then? Let’s go get a cab.”

Half an hour later, you and Bucky are in the backseat of the taxi that drives you away from bustling downtown Brooklyn and towards a park that Bucky had instructed the driver to take you to. You didn’t object, trusting that he knows this area of New York better than you do.

The driver comes to a stop next to a nearly desolate sidewalk that appears to lead to a waterfront walkway. Bucky hands the driver a handful of cash, tells him to keep the change, and hops out of the cab before extending a hand to you as you scoot across the seat to follow his exit. You mumble a quick thanks to the driver as he helps you onto the sidewalk and shuts the door behind you.

You pull your coat tighter around you, attempting to shield yourself from the chill of the November air. Fall is now in full swing in New York, and the short cocktail dress that you wore to the gala does little to protect you from the night air.

“Me and Steve used to come to this park all the time,” he tells you as he pulls the Altoids tin and a BIC lighter from his jacket. “I vividly remember having to break up a fight he got into just past that fountain when we were teenagers,” he motions towards a large granite fountain ahead of you, “when some asshole stole a kid's frisbee.”

You laugh as he passes you a joint and the lighter, able to picture the memory he describes clear as day. It's far from the first time he's told you about a time that he had to get pre-serum Steve out of trouble.

“I don’t doubt that for a second,” you mumble as you pinch the tail of the joint between your lips, inhaling as you hold the flame up to the opposite end. A wave of smoke instantly fills your esophagus and lungs with a familiar, comforting burn and you pass the blazing joint back to him. “He’d still do the exact same thing, too,” you add as you exhale the thick cloud of smoke that mixes with the cold air. “Only difference now is that he can handle any fight that he gets himself into.”

“Some things never change,” he says before bringing the paper up to his own lips. You follow as he guides you across a small grassy area and to the walkway that runs alongside the river. Truthfully, it’s too chilly to be on a park stroll at this hour in your current attire, but with Bucky’s body heat radiating from directly beside you and the buzz you feel from the weed, you’re surprisingly comfortable.

“One thing that has changed however,” he continues as you’re inhaling a second hit, “is how well I’ve started sleeping on the nights that we smoke together. On those nights, I don't wake up over a dozen times. Hardly ever even have nightmares anymore.”

Your skin tingles at his admission - a whole flight of butterflies erupting in the pit of your stomach that you push down. You know that he means this because of the weed, not because of you, but for some reason - maybe it's the way his arm keeps bumping against yours or the way the moonlight reflects in the pools of his blue eyes as he glances over at you - you let yourself believe, even for just a split second, that you're aiding in bringing him peace on those evenings spent together. On the roof above the living quarters right before bed, or at the edge of the lake's water when you stop after a late run to watch the sunset, or -

“I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm grateful that I found you up on the roof the night of the meteor shower,” he continues when you don't respond, his voice now possessing a nervous edge. Your mouth suddenly feels dry - the worst cotton-mouth you've ever had times ten. “For more reasons than one.”

You both gradually slow until you've come to a complete stop in front of a boat dock. Between the martini you had before leaving the gala, the effects of the marijuana, and the way he's looking at you while standing so close, you think it's a miracle that you haven't tripped in these ridiculous chunky heels and fallen into the East River. You clear your throat, hoping that you don't sound like a lovestruck teenager when you speak.

“I'm really glad too, Bucky.”

••••••

You stare down at the picture displayed on your phone screen as you and Natasha take the elevator up to the compound's living quarters.

Rolled and ready for you to be home reads the text attached to the picture of the joint pinched between the thumb and index finger of his flesh hand that Bucky had sent you ten hours ago, before your flight from Arizona to New York was supposed to depart.

Our flight has been delayed due to a thunderstorm. No current ETA your reply reads with a frowny face emoji at the end.

Now, at 2:16 in the morning, you are finally back home hours later than originally expected.

You were sure that Bucky was asleep by this point, and you didn't blame him. You wished you were asleep right now, too. Natasha slept the entire plane ride back to New York.

You, on the other hand, may or may not have spent the plane ride reading back over recent text messages between you and Bucky and zooming in on the picture he had sent you because for some reason you really like his hands. Both of them.

You were acting like a goddamn fifteen year old.

“What are you grinning at?” Natasha's voice snaps you out of your trance. You quickly shove your phone into the pocket of your duffel bag.

“I'm not grinning,” you lie, but it's Natasha - of course she sees right through you.

“You were grinning,” she shrugs with a knowing smirk. “But it's okay. We'll chalk it up to sleep deprivation.”

“I am sleep deprived, actually. Someone snored the entire flight back home.”

“For someone who wasn't grinning you sure are being defensive right now,” she retorts with a shit-eating grin as the elevator dings and the door slides open. You roll your eyes as you both step out into the hallway that leads to the living quarters. You turn to the left, towards your bedroom, and she takes a right but then comes to a sudden stop, calling your name. You freeze, turning to look at her with a raised brow.

“For what it's worth, I think you should go for it. It's obvious to everyone around you two.” She looks at you expectantly.

“Get some rest, Nat,” you huff a small laugh under your breath, and try not to smile. She doesn't press the subject any further.

Before reaching your bedroom, you pause at the door to Bucky's room. You don't knock, but wait to see if you hear any movement from inside. All that you hear is a loud static from his white noise machine.

Although you expected him to be asleep at this hour, you couldn't help but feel a small pang of disappointment that you hadn't been able to get back earlier. You knew you would see him tomorrow (well, technically later today), but you hadn't gone this long - a mere three days - without seeing Bucky since the two of you had become close months ago.

You quietly make your way into your bedroom and toss your duffel bag onto the end of the bed before stripping off the dirty, sweaty tactical suit that you'd been wearing since the early hours of the previous morning.

In your bathroom, you turn the faucet handle to the hottest setting and watch as the small room fills with steam before stepping under the showerhead.

You think about what Natasha said as you scrub your body clean and let the harsh but satisfying stream of water relax your aching shoulder muscles.

You wanted to go for it. Goddamn, you wanted to go for it. Every time you are alone with him - whether he's helping you train with target practice, or you're paired up together for re-con, or you're just simply eating breakfast together in the common area - you want to go for it.

All you have to do is stare at his stupid, pretty pink lips for a split-second too long and you're thinking about going for it.

But for so many reasons, you don't.

Though your heart wants more, you love your friendship with him, too. And you would be devastated if you tried for more and it didn't work out and you lost that friendship altogether.

You also don't know if Bucky wants more. Natasha says that everyone around you sees it, but he's never directly said it. You know there's an undeniable chemistry, but what if you're the only one experiencing it?

You watch the last few suds of your body wash go down the drain and turn the shower off, deciding that it's too late and you're far too tired to be thinking about this right now.

You speed through your post-shower routine, desperate to feel the silk of your bedsheets against your clean, freshly moisturized skin as you drift off to sleep.

You're rolling some deodorant under your arms when a deep, loud cry thunders from somewhere outside of your room causing you to let out a shocked gasp. You drop the object in your hand immediately and it falls to the floor as you rush out of your bedroom, wearing only thin cotton shorts and a matching tank top.

As soon as you step into the hallway, you are able to identify where the screams are coming from. Pained, booming yells originate from behind the door directly across from your own.

Bucky’s room.

You don't hesitate to twist the doorknob, letting yourself and shutting the door behind you.

The pale orange glow of a small table lamp in the far corner of his bedroom illuminates the room enough for you to make sense of what is happening. The sight before you makes your heart sink to the floorboards.

He's asleep - his eyes pinched shut and his brows furrowed together in obvious agony. He's shirtless, and his skin looks pale and clammy with thick beads of sweat littered from his forehead to his torso.

There's a meek voice in the back of your mind that tries to remind you that you don't know what you're walking into, as you've never encountered Bucky while he's having a nightmare before but he looks so fucking pitiful that your only concern is alleviating him from whatever prison of torment his mind is currently trapped in.

You rush over to the side of the bed, nearly tripping on the comforter that he's apparently through to the floor in his sleep. Both of his hands form tight fists, his knuckles strained pale. He lets out another guttural yell that causes you to instinctively flinch away.

“Bucky,” you say, attempting to keep your voice from breaking. “Wake up, Bucky. You're having a nightmare.”

He gives no indication that he can hear you, his head thrashing violently and fists slamming down against his mattress as he makes a pitiful whimper.

“Bucky,” you repeat, leaning down to perch on the few inches of free space on the side of the bed. You reach out to place your hand on the flesh of his bicep, about to attempt to gently stir him awake, when he shoots straight up in his bed. You flinch again, but don't move from your position next to him, firming your grasp on his bicep in an effort to ground him. His blue eyes are as wide as saucers and his chest heaves as he takes in his surroundings.

“You're okay,” you assure him in a soft, uncertain voice, rubbing your thumb in circles against the skin of his flesh arm. “It was just a bad dream. Everything is–”

“I could have hurt you,” he interrupts you, his voice faltering on the last word. “I could have–”

“You didn't hurt me,” you interrupt him back. “You're okay, and I'm okay, too.” He nods, and you can tell he's trying to convince himself that the words you say are true.

You quickly glance around his room until you find what you're looking for. Strewn on the floor next to his bedside table, you see a black t-shirt. You reach over, picking it up. You hesitate for a moment before slowly extending the fabric to Bucky's face, where you delicately wipe away the thin layer of sweat that glistens on his forehead. He relaxes into the movement, his eyes closing until you pull away.

“I'm sorry that I woke you up,” he murmurs after a moment of heavy silence.

“You didn't wake me up,” you assure him quickly. He watches you with something akin to guilt across his features. “I had just gotten out of the shower. We didn't get home until half an hour ago.”

He glances down, noticing your attire. You suddenly feel naked in only the thin gray shorts and tank top. You awkwardly clear your throat, reaching to place the t-shirt on his bedside table when something catches your eye. Bucky follows your gaze to the joint laying on his bedside table.

“I tried to wait up for you,” he exhales a soft laugh. “Ended up passing out around midnight.” Your whole body warms at his admission. The idea that he tried to force himself to stay awake just so he could see you when you got home makes you feel dizzy despite the fact that you're sitting down.

“Do you want to now? To help you sleep?” you ask, gesturing towards the joint. You don't even care that it's three in the morning and that you're borderline delirious from lack of sleep.

He takes one of your hands in between his own and brings it closer to him, giving it a tight squeeze as he shakes his head.

“No, I know you're tired. But could you just..” He trails off, bringing your hand clutched between his up to his mouth to rest his lips against the skin of the back of your hand. It's not quite a kiss, but it sends goosebumps across your flesh nonetheless. You're holding your breath without realizing it. “Could you just lay with me for a while?”

You nod your head in agreement without even thinking about it. “Yeah - yeah, of course,” you answer, hoping that you don't sound too eager while simultaneously knowing that your voice has risen several octaves.

You lean over once again, grabbing his comforter off of the floor as Bucky scoots towards the middle of the king sized bed to give you room to crawl in beside him. He extends his flesh arm away from his body, a clear indication that he wants you to lay in the space between his arm and his chest. You lay down, tucking your head under his chin so that your cheek rests against the mildly clammy but soft skin of his chest. He helps you tug the thick blanket across your bodies before bringing his arm around your abdomen, pinning you to him.

Luckily, you’re far too tired, and he’s far too warm for you to overthink it.

“You smell really good,” he murmurs into your hair and you hope that his preternatural abilities don’t pick up on the way your heart skips a beat. “I probably smell like sweat.”

You hum a laugh against his chest, sniffing the skin next to your nose without thinking about it.

“You don’t smell like sweat. You smell just as good as you always do, somehow,” you assure him, reveling in his unique scent of vetiver and something citrusy.

You’re both quiet for a moment, sleep threatening to overtake you at any moment when he brings two metal fingers to the underside of your chin and gently tilts your face to look up at him. Your breath is trapped in your chest at the close proximity of your lips and his.

“Remember the night of the gala, when I told you that I’d started sleeping better and having less nightmares since we’d started smoking together before bed?”

You nod, not trusting your voice to answer verbally. He’s so fucking close, you can smell the spearmint of his toothpaste from when he’d brushed his teeth hours ago.

“That was true,” he continues, looking down at you with an indiscernible expression. “But what I’m now realizing is that I don’t think it has anything to do with the weed,” he pauses, a small smile forming across his face. “It’s just you.”

You can’t stop the smile that blooms in return, just as you can’t stop what you do next.

Closing the distance between your lips and his own, you kiss him as you’ve thought about doing for months now. You’re hesitant at first, worrying that you’ve crossed that line that you can never go back over - but then he’s moving his mouth with your own in a synchronicity sweeter than you could have dreamed.

His arms dart under the comforter, wrapping around your body and pulling you even tighter against him. You bring one of your hands to cup his face as he sweeps his tongue along the swell of your bottom lip. You open up for him, letting him inside your mouth as you move your hand from his jaw to his hair - lacing your fingers through the short brown locks as he explores your mouth. Your thigh hooks around his, and it takes everything in you to hold back - to not swing yourself over him and lay the full weight of your body flush against his.

He’s just had a nightmare, and it’s late, and you’re tired, and you don’t want to move this sweet, special thing that you have too quickly.

He pulls away, and you fight against whimpering at the loss of the sensation of his soft lips.

“The night of the meteor shower,” he starts, his voice strained and his pupils dilated. “You told me to make a wish, and I did. Now that it’s come true, I can tell you what it was I wished for,” he pauses, running his metal thumb across your kiss-swollen bottom lip as you look at him expectantly, waiting for him to go on. “I wished for as many moments like that as I could possibly get with you.”

Your heart swells in your chest. You're convinced that you're asleep because this is something straight out of your dreams. You remove your hand from his hair, placing it directly above his heart to make yourself believe this is real.

“Speaking of meteor showers,” you start as you trail the tips of your fingers over the defined planes of his chest. “There's supposed to be a cool show at the planetarium in Manhattan this weekend. Do you want to go with me?”

His answer is a soft smile before attaching his lips to yours once more.

thanks so much for reading! as always reblogs and comments are extremely appreciated. i hope you enjoyed 🩷

other recent works by me: love language • delirium • it's nice to have a friend

[raz-writes-the-thing]

A Rather Short and Sharp Descent (Beetlejuice One-Shot)

Betelgeuse x AFAB!GN!Reader 18+ ONLY / requests are open

Summary: When you'd struck a deal with the demonic ghost, you'd not expected to fall for him. Perhaps less so, you hadn't expected to be tumbling quite down this path...

Fic Type: Smut (dumbification, daddy kink, slight degradation tw)

Everything Tag List: @winchxters  @calliopesdiary

Betelgeuse Tag List: (send an ask to be added to a tag list!)

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

Had it been two hours or three? More? You can't remember- you can't even remember what time of the day it is. You can remember the magically altered sets of fingers and tongues that have thoroughly fucked you from the inside out, though.

It's not like he'd let you forget that, anyway.

“Aww, lookit that, dollface. Nothin’ in there, huh? Good. That’s the way ol’ Beej likes it. Doin’ a good job, babe.”

You tried to respond, but it just came out as a garbled moan.

"Yeah, that's it. Just a little fuckinnn mess for me, aintcha?"

Your brows pinched, mouth dropping open as his fingers felt like they pulsed inside you. They probably did, knowing him. Beej laughed above you, eyes glinting with sadistic pleasure. Oh, he was going to make you work for it.

"B-Beej," you drooled, and he pouted at you mockingly in response.

"Look atcha, tryin' to make sentences and everything. It'd be cute if it weren't so pathetic, huh?" Another second and his free hand swatted at your ass, the sting biting- not that you didn't love the pain. "Beej, Beej, Beej, huh? Yeah, you fuckin' love me an' my thick fuckin' cock, babe."

And you did. You couldn't wait for him to fuck you with it. That ache begging for him inside you was starting to make you antsy. Sure you had his physically altered fingers buried inside you, but it wasn’t the same. God, it would never be the same as having him leer over you, cock twitching from the inside. 

Truth be told, you weren’t even sure how you’d managed to get yourself into this situation in the first place. You’d found a flyer that had quite literally blown into your face on the street one day and said the name three times with such disbelief that you had all but died of a heart attack when the being belonging to said name appeared so suddenly and with a ridiculous amount of theatrics.

Then it was on to the business of making deals, of course. Betelgeuse had let you know in his round-a-bout way that he’d noticed you had a pesky little problem that needed fixing and he was more than happy to do the job. There was, of course, just the matter of payment, though. Sure, he could scare the absolute fuck out of your roommate until they fucked off into the sunset but not without payment. Nothing much, not your soul or anything. No, what Betelgeuse wanted from you was, of all things… a kiss. 

Naturally, you’d been suspicious that planting one (with tongue, as he had insisted) onto a demonic ghost with a penchant for absolute chaos wouldn’t come with any other side effects, such as selling your soul over or something. But a kiss? Just one kiss? Surely that wouldn’t be too bad. 

As it turns out, it didn’t have any side effects that you were expecting. Instead, it led you down a path with a rather short and sharp descent into the circles of Hell. Sin, specifically. Either way, it was a short path with many tongues, fingers and cocks to ease your way down. 

You didn’t even realise how fast you fell for him. Nor he for you, most likely. But soon enough he was around often enough that you couldn’t call it a fling any more. This was something different. You’d caught him sizing your ring finger the other night, actually. Eyeballing it, mostly, but you could tell what that eye meant. 

“‘Ey, babe- you in there? Or are y’too fucked dumb to respond anymore, huh?” 

You groaned, thoughts hazing in and out a little, though they were brought sharply into focus as he withdrew his fingers and stuck his rather long tongue out to lick them clean.

Seeing your hungry gaze, he offered them to you next—an offering you took up without an ounce of hesitation. Fuck, you tasted good. 

Those very same fingers slid from your mouth and down around your throat, brushing against the thrum of your pulse beneath your soft, thin skin. It would take almost nothing for him to kill you. But he wouldn’t. He was too fond of you- his favourite Flesh Bag as he called you. 

His eyes glinted above you, drinking in the sight of your spit-slick lips, red and swollen. Your throat pressed against his fingers, warmer than you’d expect for a dead man. Slowly, softly, he pushed you down onto your back, legs bent and spread wide for him to slot his hips between. 

Finally, finally, you were going to get what you needed. 

“Uh-uh, my precious little dummy, not yet. You think you deserve this cock? D’you really? Think hard on it now, hard as I know that is for your empty little brain.” 

“Y-yes,” you replied almost instantly, trying to roll your hips against him- trying to goad him into fucking you dumb just the way you like. Well. Dumber. 

“‘Y-yes’ what, babe?” 

Risking a glance at his expression, your mouth practically watered at the carnal look there. Dark, hungry. He wanted this just as much as you did. Needed it, even, perhaps. 

“Yes, daddy.” 

“That’s it. That’s fuckin’ it, babe. Fuckin daddy-o, that’s me.” 

You rolled your eyes, starting to come out of the haze a little now despite the slap of his cock against your clit. He was doing it to tease you, the fucker. 

“Beej, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me, I might go genuinely insane.” 

“Ladies and gents,” Betelgeuse snorted, talking to an invisible audience. “Can’t keep ‘em off me, eh? Desperate little thing. Cute though.” 

But despite the pleasure he usually got from torturing you from hours on end (you think as if he hadn’t just spent the last two to three hours fingerfucking you to oblivion), he gave in, softly rolling his hips against you- sinking inside so slowly you almost felt like yelling at him to just hurry up. 

“Ohh, fuck me,” you moaned, head dropping back against the pillows as he finally sunk completely inside you. The thing about Beej was that he was always able to alter any of his shapes to be exactly what you needed when you needed it. And today, he knew you wanted someone on the larger side. Not that you wouldn’t be happy with average, either, but sometimes there was just a need for something a little more specific. Beej knew that, too. 

“Alright, alright,” he huffed amusedly, punctuating the sentence with one of his very unique laughs. “Shut up for me a sec, babe,” he said, placing a hand over your mouth as he pulled back and slammed back against you. “Yeah, that’s it.” 

He set a punishing pace, eyes rolling quite literally into the back of his head with pleasure. While the object of torture had been you over the last few hours, there was some element of torture for him, too, not being able to sink balls deep into your tight little cunt and fuck you until he was sated. But not anymore. 

Slowly as he fucked you, his hand slipped from your mouth, allowing your pretty moans to escape into the heated air. Betelgeuse moaned, running his hand down your throat and down your side to grip at your hip. His fingers squeezed harshly into the soft muscle there, and you tilted your hips as best as you could to rock back against him. 

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Betelgeuse groaned, leaning down to shower sharp bites down your neck and shoulders. He always had been a biter. There was something about the contrast of the blood coming to the surface under the skin, the way those indents slowly softened into pretty bruises spreading across your skin like a grim meadow that drove him insane. “Not gonna last long, babe.” 

That was okay with you, you weren’t going to last long either. You hadn’t realised how fast you were approaching your orgasm- and the deadline skyrocketed closer as his hand disappeared between your legs where you were most sensitive. 

“God, fuck, Beej- I, fuck, like that, please,” you cried out, reaching out to encircle your arms around his shoulders. You pulled him down and over you. From an outside perspective, you were absolutely sure that he would look like a violent predator about to rip apart his prey. 

His hips fucked into you without mercy, fingers rubbing against your most sensitive area. Your mouth was open in a practically permanent ‘o’- something that Betelgeuse took full advantage of as his lips landed on yours. His tongue flicked at your lower lip and it was that in conjunction with the savage thrust of his hips and non-stop-just-right fingers that catapulted you right over that edge. 

With a cry you weren’t sure actually made any sound or not, you felt your pleasure bubble over like a boiling pot on a stove, spilling over the edges and roiling up your spine. You could feel your orgasm all the way in your toes and even in your scalp, you realised distantly. 

Oh, wait, no, that was Betelgeuse’s fingers knotted in your hair, pulling as he chased his own orgasm now, hips choppy yet brutal. Every thrust forced your orgasm out longer, tingles of pleasure shooting through your nerves even as you started to come down from it. 

“Oh, oh, yeah, that’s it, babe. Fuckin little toy for daddy, aintcha- yeah,” he rambled with pleasure, eyes screwed tight as he finally, finally came- 

You sagged into the bed as he slowly stopped thrusting, cock still inside you. With a grunt, he laid down on top of you, forcing a grunt out of you as he did so. Your hand raised lazily to rub at his back. 

“Fuck, Beej,” you panted, eyes drifting closed as the glow started to overtake you. “You’re going to ruin me.” 

Betelgeuse snorted playfully, already starting to recover. He had a freaky ability to be able to go, and go, and go- and then barely need rest afterwards. Perks of being dead, you supposed. 

“What, like I ain’t already?” 

Well, you couldn’t argue with that. 

[multiheadcanons]

REQUEST: TF2 MERCS AND TATTOOS BUT WE’RE GONNA SAY ALL BODY MODS AND YOU’LL BE ABLE TO TELL WHEN I MADE THE SWITCH LMAO

scout: scout’s not scared of needles, and scout can rock with the weird, for the most part. piercings, tattoos, he loves and appreciates all creative decisions anyone makes, as long as they don’t ask him his actual opinion on what he thinks about what you’re doing. that’s inviting a guy who got sexbom tattooed on his chest to give an opinion. pierced his own ears when he was a teenager and his mom freaked out on him. he’s never met someone with it in person, but he’s fascinated with people who split their tongues. seems like something the doc would do.

soldier: soldier does not have tattoos. he doesn’t care one way or the other when it comes to others, as long as they’re semi tasteful tattoos, in semi tasteful areas. he can even excuse a raunchy tattoo in a raunchy area. it’s funny. hot even, depending on who you are. but he himself would probably never get one. and the piercings start getting weird to him when you get above the nose or start piercing your lips or tongue. he thinks dermals are interesting, but it’s mainly confusion as to what is interesting about them. he doesn’t really “get it”.

pyro: pyro’s skin is a little too scarred for tattoos to look good to them, or for piercings to reliably heal. so they love looking at them on other people. loves window shopping in the jewelry aisle, loves asking about people’s tattoos, what they mean and why they got them. traces the lines. sometimes they run the tip of a lighter along it, slowly flicking it, never fast enough to actually ignite it. they just love tattoos so much. they wonder how they can make them prettier. if you want to really make them happy, if you have a tattoo that hasn’t been colored in, let them color it. they have those glitter body pens, they will do the piece justice. will stick their finger through your gauges. at least once. they also love temporary tattoos, it’s a nice thought.

demo: he can appreciate a tramp stamp the same way he can appreciate a tasteful second lobe. he’s got his fair share of small stick and pokes. nothing too big, and he can rock with the piercings. he had a lip ring once! the hole’s probably still open, too! if you act embarrassed about your personal body modifications, he’s going to ask why you got them in the first place. if you don’t mention them, he won’t mention them. if you show them off, and you love them, he’ll love it! easygoing about it. nice to have with you if you’re nervous. he’s calm, and reassures you you’re gonna look fine at worst and hot at best.

heavy: i want that man to have a tattoo so bad… i don’t think he would. i don’t think he’d “get it” either. i don’t think he’d care as much as soldier does, but i do think he would regard it first as a waste of money. just not his money. so he doesn’t really care. appreciates them; if you like it, he loves it. but he would ask himself “why”; and probably not think to ask you why you got them. offering an answer before he thinks to ask the question can sway him moreso to favor it. at least like the way it looks on you. please don’t talk to him about the eyeball dyeing or tongue splitting or the ear pointing or toe tucks he would like to live in blissful ignorance without another random thing floating through his head that’s baffling enough to bring him back from the dead.

engineer: is it corny to say he loves goth girls. is it? is it corny? is it a stereotype nowadays to say that southern men have an affinity for goth girls for some reason? he wants to be the guy who looks good with a tattoo. he knows he’s not. he knows he looks pretty damn good covered in grease. is that close enough? it’s a rare time you can catch the texan ogling. like you wouldn’t be able to tell through the goggles, but also the goggles are a very clear indicator of the general direction he is looking in. but if you do catch him he’ll just ask about it. ask if he can see it. it’s a harmless interest. just thinks when they’re well done they look good. he has complicated feelings with septum piercings. net positive, but complicated.

medic: he’s confident enough in his skills he’s willing to do most piercings. just bring him the jewelry. he will mock you if you bring externally threaded jewelry, but he’ll still do it. he’s been doing piercings at home for the cheap longer than he’s been doing surgeries, so if you’re that worried don’t get on his table either. he’s willing to do any elective surgery, up to and including a full face transplant. no anesthesia. beauty is pain, respect the game you’re playing or get off the court. he’ll have the medigun on, you’ll be fine. everyone else says it feels like nothing. respects the art of tattooing too much to attempt stick and pokes. but he likes to watch people get tattooed more than he himself wants one. so he’s perfect to have with you if you don’t want to go alone. probably not if you don’t like needles or if you’re nervous. he’s an amplifier, he’s going to make whatever you’re feeling 10x more intense. he’ll describe in immense, unneeded detail exactly what is happening. but he’s smiling, and he’s giving a thumbs up, so it’s probably going to be fine.

sniper: gives stick and pokes. don’t tell the doctor. overtime he’s gotten better tools, but he’s not licensed, and sometimes it doesn’t beat the thrill of maybe dying from an infection from ballpoint pen ink running in your blood. he’s got a few stick and pokes he did on himself, mainly on his thighs. an anatomically correct heart on one leg and a sturt’s desert pea on the other, both fairly faded at this point. at least he was smart enough to orient them the right way on his body? best at line art, maybe don’t ask for an incredibly intricate watercolor back piece and he could probably swing it for you.

spy: he’s got one tattoo. a dying rose, placed between his shoulder blades. he doesn’t remember what it was even for. but it’s a beautifully done piece, he’s sure he either paid good money (not very likely); or swindled a phenomenal artist for it (much more likely). it’s faded, now, but the artistry shines through regardless. it was done with a careful hand. he probably won’t get another tattoo, but he’s appreciative of the one he has.

[fonulyn]

fon's 2024 in fic

so it's again time for my annual fic roundup, to see what I managed to accomplish this time. I looked back at the old ones and negl it's sad to see I finished last year feeling like I do now, but maybe one year sometime in the future I'll go into a new year full of optimism and less lonely. maybe :'D lmao, also, the re2 childhood friends au made it to the second end-of-the-year list in a row. let's see if i'll actually finish it in 2025 or if it'll end up on even more of these.

I am genuinely really happy with most things I posted, looking back at them was nice in that sense. here's to hoping that I can cross some other longtime ideas off my list this upcoming year. I do have a lot of things on my to-write-list, but i'll take it one day at a time.

so.

feeling too lazy to count the overall wordcount for this year like I did before but eyeballing the wordcounts it's probably smth like 240k-ish :'D and I didn't include the tumblr prompt fills in this list, you can find them in their own masterlist here. aside from those, I posted:

24 Piers/Leon fics

4 Krauser/Leon fics

2 ot3 fics

and one of each featuring Jake/Piers, Claire/Jill, Chris/Leon, and Mendez/Leon

links and summaries to those under the cut :3

Piers/Leon

haunting in my head (tempting me, inviting me to fall asleep in its arms) | M | 14k | When Leon hits his head hard enough that he forgets the past two years of his life, it’s a struggle to adjust, especially with the constant headaches and the concussion leaving him disoriented. No wonder it takes him a while to notice that some things just don’t add up.

viva las vegas | E | 9.8k | Piers and Leon decide to do one of those “fake marriages” in Vegas.

no lies tonight | M | 19k | Leon can’t lie. Turns out it’s both the worst and the best thing that has happened to him recently. (Or: the truth serum fic.)

wipe away this pain | M | 4k | This was going to suck, Leon thought as Finn finally cut into his flesh. The numbing spray helped some, but it wasn’t meant for actual surgery. Leon held onto Piers so tight his muscles ached from it, but he didn’t even notice, drowning in the sea of delirious pain.

show me that you want me | E | 3.8k | It’s Piers�� turn to wear the skirt.

bleed | M | 4.5k | Leon, Piers, and Jill struggle through the Death Island. Flirting happens.

mouth the words you're not ready to speak | T | 6.4k | Leon struggles through a mission while sick. When he can't keep it up anymore, Piers steps in to help. Promises are made.

the rhythm of my heart (the rhythm of yours) | E | 27k | Piers joins a band. He hasn't really heard of the R.P.D. before, but it doesn't take long before he's thoroughly charmed by his new bandmates. Especially the gorgeous guitarist. (aka the band au, with past metaltango)

when you look at me | E | 2k | Piers is away, so they have some fun through the webcam.

oh, your aim is steady (your eyes are hungry and your hands are ready) | E | 5.7k | The BSAA Alpha team has a friendly darts tournament. Leon jokingly volunteers as the prize, but when Piers wins he decides he wasn’t joking at all.

patience, officer Kennedy | E | 4k | Leon wears a cop uniform for a costume party, Piers picks him up, and they don’t quite make it back home before they lose their patience.

this feeling in the air | E | 34k | Claire drags Leon to the beach. Leon spots an attractive lifeguard. Too bad his people skills are rustier than he’s realized. (aka the lifeguard au)

heart set on you | E | 7k | Piers sees the man of his dreams. So obviously his solution is to pass him a note. That’s what people do, right?

bury all your secrets in my skin | E | 2k | As if to apologize, Piers licked over the spot, pressing his smile into Leon’s neck. “How long do you think we can cuddle before I get a boner?” That immediately startled a laugh from Leon.

all the tears you try to hide | T | 4.8k | Leon struggles to save people from a building fire. He fails. But when he has a breakdown, Piers is there for him.

two hearts have never been so close | E | 3.7k | That drew a sleepy chuckle from Piers and he pulled back from the kiss, settling their foreheads together. “That eager to get into my pants?” he asked, his eyes still closed, as he tilted his head to brush a whisper of a kiss onto Leon’s lips.

thaw the ice within | M | 6.6k | Leon takes an unwanted dive into an icy lake, but Piers takes care of him in more ways than one. Especially after they clear up the initial misunderstanding.

light in the darkest place | M | 18k | Leon and Piers grew up together, and when at twenty-one they both got a job at the RPD they thought it was a giant stroke of luck. They had no idea their first day was going to be one hell of a long day. (Or, re2 au.)

this heart is true tonight | E | 2.9k | “I’m sorry,” Piers apologized, meeting Leon’s eyes with his own. He was hunched in on himself, so unlike his usual confidence, it broke Leon’s heart. Especially when Piers ducked his head down, giving Leon a small shrug. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

in time | T | 2.7k | Somehow Leon is thrown thirty years into the future. What he sees is something he hadn’t even dared to dream of.

frozen in time | M | 4.5k | Piers has to watch Leon die, over and over and over. (Or, the time loop fic.)

finish what you started | E | 3.3k | Leon has a late night conference call to take, and Piers sets out to distract him through it.

the one i came looking for | T | 2.5k | Leon goes missing after the bomb hits Tatchi. Piers goes to find him.

and I believed | T | 9k | Leon shows up on Piers’ doorstep, drunk and clearly hurt. He finds the kind of comfort he hadn't even dared to hope for.

Krauser/Leon

in love with my lust | E | 3.6k | The one wherein Leon gets thoroughly wrecked after Krauser sees him in some lingerie.

these wounds are open wide | M | 4k | Ever since Krauser walked away, he has wanted to reunite with Leon. But not like this.

but I justify my desire to no one | E | 3.2k | Leon looked beautiful when he slept. Krauser was going to enjoy ruining him.

twisted inside, sharpened by the lies | M | 3.7k | Krauser wants to play a game. (Or, the russian roulette fic.)

Jake/Piers

scratch that itch | E | 2.2k | Jake and Piers are stuck together in a hotel room. Of course they’ll end up snapping.

Chris/Leon/Piers

reach out in the dark | T | 2k | A building collapses on Chris and Piers. Leon does his best to help.

just can't say no | E | 4.3k | The words died on Piers’ lips as he took in the sight. It was Chris fucking Redfield. Naked and hard, sitting on their bed like he belonged there, leaning back against the headboard. (Or, Piers gets a birthday threesome.)

Chris/Leon

it's not too late | T | 2.3k | Four moments from their lives, and how they grew closer.

Claire/Jill

you know just what to do (I love you) | E | 2.3k | Jill can’t sleep and Claire helps.

Mendez/Leon

the chosen | E | 3.4k | The one wherein Leon really did not expect Mendez to try to use him as an incubator. Even moreso, he did not expect to get off on it quite this spectacularly.

[sailorsplatoon]

It's tiiiiiime!!! I'm finally posting a new fic again!!!

This work was proofread by the amazing matuili and the equally amazing Tar4All! They both helped me immensely, so they get extra special thank you's!

Now, without further ado, I give you, the first chapter of An LED Light at the End of the Tunnel!

You can also read it on ao3!

Next chapter

(Fanfic under cut)

Four sat outside the little hut in Octo Canyon, glued to their phone. It had been exactly one year since Marie left for Splatsville, along with Callie, Cuttlefish, Eight, and Captain 3. February 17. They had it marked in their calendar app. Every day since then, Four texted Marie, and every day, they never received a reply. 

By now, almost everyone had left Inkopolis. Four had been alone for nearly two months. Even the Great Zapfish had gone. The emptiness scared them, how they were the only one there. It left a pit in their stomach. They spent most of their time in Octo Canyon, because at least Octavio was someone to talk to. Granted, he didn’t exactly have a choice, but Four was desperate for some company. 

Octavio faked a cough, seemingly to clear his throat. Either that or dispel Four’s gloomy silence. “She’s still not responding to your texts, huh? You know, if you let me out I have technology that could—”

“For the last time, no. I’m not putting on your brainwashing glasses. And she’ll respond. She’s probably just… caught up in agent work or something,” Four interrupted, trying to mask the shakiness in their voice.

“The first stage of grief is denial.”

“The stages of grief theory has been widely debunked by therapists and psychologists as everyone grieves differently. It is considered outdated and unhelpful by many professionals.” Four rattled off the facts as if they were reading from a textbook.

“Nerd.”

“Shut up.”

Hey, Marie. It’s Four again. Octavio keeps trying to get me to let him out. It’s honestly pretty lonely here.

They sent another text among the several unanswered ones.

“Marie cares about me, she knows how important she is to me. She would never ignore me on purpose,” Four spoke more to themself than to Octavio. “I just hope she’s not still mad at me…”

“You guys got into a pretty big fight before she left, right?” Octavio leaned onto the side of his snow globe that was closest to Four, eyeballing them as he spoke.

“Yeah. But we made up. I thought.” Four didn’t look up from their phone, staring at it for a few seconds in a desperate hope that Marie would reply.

“Have you texted anyone else?” Octavio pried.

Four didn’t answer. They hadn’t. They were too scared to. Maybe, if Marie was actually mad at them, the others were too. They knew that probably wasn’t the case, they knew they were being irrational. But they just couldn’t make their fingers type out a message to anyone else. Their hands were already shaking at the thought.

Octavio saw their silence and sighed. “Look, kid, I’m gonna give it to you straight. I’m worried about you. And trust me, I am the last person to be worried about a squid. But I really think I could help.”

“Whatever. It’s getting late. I’m heading home.” Four grabbed their bag and stood up, heading towards the grate. They stopped in front of it, and stared at their phone again.

 I really need you right now.

They pressed send, then disappeared into the drain.

****

“Keep going, Agent 4, you’ve almost made it to the zapfish!” Marie’s voice came through Four’s headphones, encouraging them to keep pushing through the hordes of octarians. They made it to the zapfish and popped the shield, grabbing the little electric catfish in their arms.

“Nice job, Four! Now you just gotta make it out of the kettle. Since this one is so far underground, you won’t be able to super jump out. Just retrace yo—” There was a glitching noise and then static. Their headphones had cut out. Which meant they had no contact with Marie. And they’d splatted all the octarians in the kettle. They were entirely alone. Four’s chest started to feel tight and their hearts were racing. Their breathing became uneven and shallow, their legs shook.

“Whoa, okay… calm down… breathe…” Four spoke out loud to themself. The little zapfish wiggled around in their arms as if to try and comfort them. 

“Right, I still have you, little guy. Thanks for the reminder.” They patted the zapfish on the head in a gesture of gratitude. “Okay… let’s do this.”

A few minutes later, Four popped out of the kettle.

“Four, you’re back. I think I lost communication with you in there. I was worried something had happen— oh my cod, Four are you okay?” In the middle of Marie’s sentence, she had noticed Agent 4’s current state. They were standing there, shaking. Tears were streaming down their face.

“Yeah… I uh… I just don’t do well with being alone…” Their voice broke and they avoided eye contact.

“Oh, Four. Come here.” Marie pulled them into a hug. “I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I’ll have Sheldon upgrade both your headset and my equipment before you go on anymore missions. I won’t let this happen again. I promise.”

****

“Back then… She promised…” Four thought, sitting on the floor of their apartment, leaning up against their bed frame. Yet again, they were staring at their phone. This time, it was Callie’s private social media page. She reserved it only for members of the New Squidbeak Splatoon.

Life in the Splatlands has been slow regarding professional work, but that’s just the more reason to take it easy! Me, Marie, Eight, and the Captain have been going out exploring Splatsville almost every day, the city just keeps getting better! Gramps will even occasionally tag along. So far nothing concerning regarding the NSS. We found some fuzzy looking ooze stuff in The Crater, but as long as no one touches it we’ll be fine!

Four placed their phone face down on the floor and held their head in their hands. “She wasn’t busy. She was ignoring me. She really is still mad at me, isn’t she? Oh cod, maybe all my texts came off as too desperate. She must hate me now. Why else would they all leave me alone here with no one but…” Octavio’s offer buzzed in the back of Four’s mind. “No, you can’t do that. You’d be letting everyone down.” They squeezed their legs into their chest and rested their head on their knees, mumbling, “But, it’s not like you haven’t already…”

They’d made up their mind.

[thatonepersonwhocantwrite]

Yandere Luke castellan x gender neutral reader

TRIGGER WARNINGS ⚠️ Kidnapping , sea sickness, cursing, isolation, dark themes, murder (not the reader), head bashing ( not the reader) , ripped out eyeballs ( again not the reader)

You can choose your godly parent but it can't be Hermes

If you click continue reading you have acknowledged you have read the warnings

You sat dejected on a corner of your small bed in the room you were locked in. The floor was constantly moving and it made you sick to your stomach. You had figured out you were on a boat by the smells and sounds. You hated it here , you hated the loneliness, you missed camp half blood the place you should be right now and most of all you hated him your captor Luke castellan. " At least Annabeth and Percy got away. " You muttered to yourself. " I miss the old Luke. Back when he wasn't a manipulative bitch. " You muttered to yourself although I guess he has always been manipulative........ Luke would never let you within 10 feet of another male or person he thought you tried to take you away from him even if said male or person was your half sibling. Actually really the only person Luke would let you talk to was Annabeth and Thalia's tree.

You sighed softly looking up at the ceiling. " I want to go home......" You muttered. " I really should’ve noticed the signs earlier. " You muttered remembering the gruesome sight of your dead ex partner a few years back. Your ex had their skull based multiple times and their eyes ripped out of their head. There was more to it than just those things but you preferred not to think about it right now. Someone let themselves into your room / prison. " Fuck off Castellan. " You said not bothering to look up at the person you knew exactly who it was. " That's no way to talk to the person who feds you . Is it?" Luke asked walking over to you he could see your eyes flicker in fear for a slight second only to be replaced by fight and sass. " Well you wouldn't need to feed me if you didn't trap me here against my fucking will." You replied glaring at him.

Luke grabbed your chin forcing your eyes to meet his and for a split second you thought you saw the old Luke. Without saying anything he walked out . You were once again left alone with your thoughts. ( Godley parent) if you can hear me please get me away from this lunatic. You thought silently to yourself as your stomach growled in hunger . " God's damn it Castellan. " You grumbled to yourself you'd just have to wait until he decided to bring you dinner.

[ghostfacesvalentine]

Maneater girlfriend - Multimuse x fem!reader

Pairing: Multimuse x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some mentions of mvrder, not much honestly, some jealousy, but I think that’s it?

Type: Blerps

Request: N/A

Word Count: N/A

Prompt: The muses get maneater girlfriends, how they’d react/act about it.

Notes: Honestly, I know some of us may not always feel like it, but it’s fun to pretend. Just like miss Maddie Perez and my queen Rihanna said, even if you don’t feel like it just pretend. Love my maneater readers. Ps. this isn’t exclusively for fem readers, it can really be for anyone. kiss kiss.

I don’t really know what I was going for, I’m just trying to get my juices going, pls don’t hate. Will probably delete this one tbh

Jason Voorhees: Gets so starstruck around you. It’s actually super cute, he never fails to boost your confidence. No matter what you choose to wear, Jason will stare at you all the time in awe, which of course makes you feel like the prettiest person he’s ever seen. Especially when you decide to go all out, he just becomes a puddle. Jason would literally worship the ground you walk on, you definitely have him under your spell. If you want a fan for a boyfriend, Jason’s the one. The only con is that he’d probably forget to take pictures of you because he’s just daydreaming about his hot s/o.

Michael Myers: Honestly didn’t expect any less, but he is a tiny itsy bitsy threatened by your confidence. Depending on the status of your relationship, it could go one of two ways: He could be completely confident, obviously mopping the floor with the guts of the people who couldn’t keep their eyeballs to themselves, or he could be somewhat weary of the attention you get, no matter who it is. Michael definitely has one of the most toxic abandonment issues, but it’s not like you’d be able to get rid of him, he’d get rid of everyone around you before you could even think about skipping town. Michael would stare a little longer on the days you wear more revealing clothing, it’s your confidence that sells the whole look, he’s absolutely mesmerized by you.

Tiffany Valentine: All for it. Wouldn’t hesitate for a second to help you get into your outfit or finish up your makeup/hair. You’d catch her staring from time to time, which she’d laugh it off not expecting to be caught. I could see her getting jealous at times if it seems like someone has your attention and if they cross a line, a knife crosses their artery, no hesitation. Tiffany would absolutely take pictures of you and post you all over her social media, she wouldn’t mind the thirst comments you’d get, after all you were hers. Tiffany would definitely boost your confidence and you’d both become the ultimate deadliest hot couple.

Billy Loomis: Ok, controversial opinion, but Billy isn’t really used to having maneater girlies. He’s used to having cute, beautiful women, but no one willing to stare daggers into your eyes from across the room. He’s absolutely mesmerized, without knowing it, he’d do anything for you. Billy cannot keep his hands to himself, no matter what you’re wearing, or what you’re not wearing. He’s not the best at taking pictures of you, but you’re damn right he’d keep every picture of you he can get a hold of. Sure he can get jealous, but he also knows he has you wrapped around his finger and no one else.

Stu Macher: Everyone expects Stu to have the hottest girl in school, this is no exception. The way you don’t look away when you catch him staring at you is enough to make him fall in love. As much as I love Stu, I know he’s superficial, so if your looks caught his eye, he would do his best to make your relationship work. Even if it means he has to get the right angles when taking pictures of you. Stu would absolutely brag about you, first about how you look then about what you do or what your interests are. Just like Jason, unintentionally, Stu would worship the ground you walk on. 

Patrick Bateman: Ok honestly what else did you expect. Just like Stu, Patrick is superficial. He always wants to make sure he has the hottest/most confident person within 1000 miles. He’d never admit how he likes your lack of interest in impressing every person you meet. That’s probably the trick. Patrick will never forget the times you’d be approached by wealthy men, or simply attractive people that you just couldn’t care for. That would be one of Patrick’s biggest flexes. Of course he’d always want you to look your best, so he does his part in boosting your confidence through pictures, outfits and compliments. Patrick isn’t shy about showing you off.

Leatherface: Just like Jason, he’s stuck. He can’t believe someone like you is interested in him. You are the prettiest most beautiful creature he’s ever seen. Bubba would absolutely worship the floor you walk on. He’s at your beck and call. He’d do whatever he could to impress you, getting you flowers, learning to make your favorite meals, helping you around the house. He’d do anything to spend time with you and just stare at you. He absolutely loves having printed pictures of you, even if getting him a shirt with your face on it was a joke, he’d absolutely wear it without hesitation. To him, your face is a work of art that should be appreciated.

Billy Hargrove: Honestly, didn’t know what he was getting himself into until he realized how much attention you actually got when you’d clean up. At first he didn’t know how to handle it exactly. Of course, Billy would play it off, knowing if you would wander off, he wouldn’t waste his time. Still, that doesn’t mean he wasn’t completely infatuated with you. Your mannerisms are what kept his attention. He can’t describe it, but it’s definitely your aura that intoxicates him. The fact that others would consider you a “maneater” and that it was Billy Hargrove that pulled you? (I mean of course he did right?) he’d hesitate to admit that it boosted his ego a little bit, but he made sure others kept their hands to themselves. 

Steve Harrington: Steve would be a little more confident than the rest on this list I’d say. He knows you’re hot and he would remind you that all the time. “Well when I first saw you, I’m not gonna lie I thought you’d like, throw a drink at me and tell me to get lost. I don��t know how long I’ve been staring” Of course, being out if it got out of hand with others, Steve wouldn’t hesitate to step in, but otherwise, he’s of course constantly staring at you with a big dorky smile. He’d find any excuse to take pictures of you, even if you’re just relaxing. For sure he’d keep a picture of you in his car.

Bruce Wayne: An awkward little mess. Just the kind to stand there and look at you from afar. During the night, in his double life, he’d keep a tab on you. Of course if you went out frequently, it would only give him more of an excuse to try to bump into you. At first it’d be to just get a glimpse of you, later on to get to know you. Bruce was a billionaire, there must’ve been hundreds of models and wealthy women trying to tie him down and yet there you were not able to get more than a few sentences out of him. Eventually after he powered through to actually ask you out, he would do his best to make sure you were in the finest of clothing and enjoyed all kinds of luxuries. Even from time to time, you’d catch him staring from afar. Other times, you’d find magazines with you and him pictures laying about, but he’d never admit he just loved the way you would photograph.

Steve Rogers: Of course he was used to being among the most desired men to date, but that doesn’t mean at times he still seemed to fail at asking anyone out on a date. Especially you, who would just stare right through the men that would be entitled enough to think you were already interested in them. Eventually though, you managed to cross paths and who could really resist Steve’s charm? Just like the rest on this list, you’d catch him staring, but at times his gaze seems more sinister than the rest. Of course Steve would encourage you to dress whatever way you felt best in, but don’t put it past him to lay a hand over your ass in public when he’d feel the slightest bit of eyes on you.

Loki Laufeyson: His argument would be that he was a prince, of course he would have a maneater s/o, what else did anyone expect. Still, deep down there was a weary feeling of insecurity at times, especially growing under his brothers shadow. That’s when he’d become overly protective around you, when anyone else was present, but even more around his brother. Even if Thor swore to never lay but a finger on you unless you needed saving, Loki would be incredibly possessive. He’d never admit it, but you mesmerized him, he wasn’t shy about admiring you even at times when you’d catch him.

Spencer Reid: Kind of funny that you’d both fit the “nerd x maneater” trope, but I mean, of course you did. Just like Loki, there would be a tiny feeling of insecurity, but Spencer would trust you unless you gave him a reason not to. There would be a little bit more pressure on him to keep alert when you were out in public, even if you knew how to defend yourself. Spencer would love to take pictures of you and use them as bookmarks or keep them framed. He’d need a ton of reassurance and he’d be honest about it. I think he’d be the healthiest on this list about this trope, kinda cute. Would NOT be happy about the team suggesting to use you as bait though.

[mattnben-bennmatt]

Matt & Ben || John & Paul

Here’s a story. Matt Damon told it. But it’s not about Matt Damon. It’s about Bono. But it’s not really about Bono, either; it’s about Paul McCartney. But Damon heard it from Bono. One day, Bono flew into Liverpool. Paul was supposed to pick him up at the airport, and Bono was shocked when Paul picked him up at the airport alone, behind the wheel of his car. “Would you like to go on a little tour?” Paul said. Sure, Bono said, because Bono, you see, is a fan of Paul’s, in the same way that Damon is a fan of Bono’s. “Bono’s obsessed with the Beatles,” Damon said at the table in the lobby of the gated hotel in the little town in Germany. “He’s, like, a student of the Beatles. He’s read every book on the Beatles. He’s seen every bit of film. There’s nothing he doesn’t know. So when Paul stops and says 'That’s where it happened,’ Bono’s like, 'That’s where what happened?’ because he thinks he knows everything. And Paul says, 'That’s where the Beatles started. That’s where John gave me half his chocolate bar.’ And now Bono’s like, 'What chocolate bar? I’ve never heard of any chocolate bar.’ And Paul says, 'John had a chocolate bar, and he shared it with me. And he didn’t give me some of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a square of his chocolate bar. He didn’t give me a quarter of his chocolate bar. He gave me half of his chocolate bar. And that’s why the Beatles started right there.’ Isn’t that fantastic? It’s the most important story about the Beatles, and it’s in none of the books! And Paul tells it to Bono. Because he knows how much Bono loves the Beatles.”

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Tom Junod for Esquire (August 2013).

-

Ben Affleck and I actually had a joint bank account, and the bank account was money that we’d made doing local commercials, and we could only use it on trips to New York to audition […] If one kid had enough for a candy bar, then the candy bar was bought and split in half — that’s just the way it’s been.

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Piers Morgan for CNN (March 2011).

-

First of all, I think I should say that we pale by comparison to The Beatles. But my understanding of how [Lennon and McCartney] worked was that they would go off and work separately. Matt and I worked together in the same room most of the time, riffing off of one another’s ideas for scenes or certain lines of dialogue.

— Ben Affleck, interviewed for eDrive (February/March 1998).

-

Q: But you didn’t compose your stuff separately, as other accounts have said? JOHN: No, no, no. I said that, but I was lying. [Laughs.] By the time I said that, we were so sick of this idea of writing and singing together, especially me, that I started this thing about, “We never wrote together, we were never in the same room.” Which wasn’t true. We wrote a lot of stuff together, one-on-one, eyeball to eyeball.

— John Lennon, interviewed by David Sheff for Playboy (September 1980).

-

[Ben and I] have been bizarrely close for a long time. You know, I was watching Get Back—the Peter Jackson documentary—and at the end of that you see the Beatles playing on the roof in London and it says, “This is the last time that they ever played together, live.” And it made me so sad to think of; because you look at them and they’re so happy! And Ben and I, I called him and said, “Look man, we were talking about doing this and it’s been 25 years or something since Good Will Hunting. What are we doing? We both kind of hit the lottery! Why aren’t we working together more often?” And after my dad passed in 2017—and Ben was very, very close with him—it’s like it changed something in us, I think. You start to see the end game and to feel like, “I want to make every second count.” I don’t want to fritter away time anymore.

— Matt Damon, interviewed by Chris Wallace for CNN (July 2023).

-

I needed to make this post because way before the Matt & Ben brainrot had the chance to set in, John & Paul had already taken complete hold of my being. And even if this hold has gentled in recent years, they nevertheless rewired my neural circuits. And thus, everything now inevitably leads back to Lennon/McCartney. One day I'll make a (probably very tinhatty) post highlighting specific parallels between Matt & Ben and John & Paul. Today is not that day.

For now, I merely wanted to marvel at how it's not only me who inevitably sees same-sex friendships and creative partnerships through the Lennon/McCartney goggles, but, being Lennon/McCartney arguably one of the most famous same-sex friendships and creative partnerships in history, they influence how other friends who are also creative partners—such as Matt and Ben—see themselves.

For example, the Chocolate Bar story. First of all, I can't believe I only realized yesterday that one of my favorite bits of Beatles lore—a story so special Paul hasn't told it anywhere else—was made public by Matt Damon (which is kind of ironic, given how private and protective he is over his own friendship with Ben). But then, it made me re-evaluate one of Matt's quotes. You see, I thought Matt saying "If one kid had enough for a candy bar, then the candy bar was bought and split in half" about him and Ben was one of those crazy coincidences I could see thanks to my Lennon/McCartney vision. Rather, Matt seems instead to be directly referencing the Chocolate Bar story, even if only a handful of people would understand the reference at the time. By drawing this comparison, a candy bar is no longer just a candy bar. It represents the founding principles of generosity and equity on which a great partnership can be built. Like John and Paul before them, Matt and Ben chose to tie their fates together and share what they had so they could make it.

And as soon as they made it, the world started comparing them to Lennon/McCartney, as we can see by Ben's quote. And it's interesting to think how the generalized perception of Lennon/McCartney at the time might have influenced how they felt about the comparison. Imagine you and your best friend/writing partner just achieved your wildest dreams. But that also means the eyes of the world are now turned on you, and your very real friendship is being used as a marketing ploy and starting to be ravenously consumed by the public. Now imagine that people start comparing you to The Beatles, and the very famous songwriting partnership at its core, Lennon/McCartney: two friends who rocketed to the toppermost-of-the-poppermost, but who broke up very acrimoniously in less than a decade. The Beatle-People will know that they deeply loved each other throughout it all, but that was not the prevailing narrative until a few years ago, when Get Back came out. So no wonder Ben's first instinct was to go "RIP to John and Paul but Matt and I are different."

And then, Get Back comes out and it makes them realize that they both are and are not different. They are not different in the sense that the pressure of fame did affect their relationship. Not to the extent of John and Paul's, whose private troubles were made public. Whatever conflicts Matt and Ben might have had throughout the years, they gracefully kept it private, which allowed their relationship to naturally heal without the press poking at the wounds. However, I do believe the intensity of the public gaze made them shy away from collaborating again. They mention working on numerous projects throughout the years (particularly after their Oscar win with Good Will Hunting), but none of these saw the light of day. And even though they say they were working so much they did not have time to write, it's odd that it took them over two decades to even co-star in another movie again. I think that, much like John and Paul in the 70s, the pressure placed on an eventual reunion was so great—both in terms of living up to their past success and of inviting all that scrutiny again—that Matt and Ben opted to remain private friends, at the sake of their creative partnership. Which makes total sense, because, like John and Paul, there's no partnership without the friendship. But this sacrifice is tragic in its own way, because the creative partnership was a big part of their friendship. Acting, writing, directing—creating—was what drew them together in the first place! It's like asking them to amputate one of the fundamental components of their relationship.

Which is why I find the last quote so incredibly moving. While watching Get Back, Matt was not only reminded of the joy of creating with his best friend—he was confronted with the preciousness of it. Because this is where Matt and Ben are most different from John and Paul: Matt and Ben have been granted the luxury of time. Unlike John and Paul, Matt and Ben could get to their 50s and realize, "What are we doing? We both kind of hit the lottery! Why aren’t we working together more often?" They could realize that they didn't give a fuck about what anyone said or thought anymore. That being together doing something they loved was more important. And so, unlike Paul, Matt got to hear his wife say that writing with Ben was the most she'd seen him laugh in many years. And Ben, unlike John, got to feel that total happiness was seeing his children every day and working with his best friend, and that there's nothing more that he wants in life. In fact, working together on Air made them feel so profoundly accomplished and realized, that both Ben and Matt thought they were about to die, since they'd apparently reached the "mountain top".

And so, it is with great joy that I await what lies in store for Ben and Matt. They have just created their own studio, Artists Equity, and are slated to collaborate in some of its future projects. Nothing will ever replace John and Paul in my heart, and their love story is ongoing in its own way; oh, but how wonderful is it to be able to witness a creative partnership and friendship whose future is still ripe with possibility! And how poetic that the tragedy of John and Paul's story played a part in ensuring that?

[askinkiskarma]

Cruel Summer | Chapter II: Before It Sinks In

Pairings: Neteyam x (f)Human!Reader

Word Count: 5.5k words

Warnings/notes: angst, allusions to/mentions of smut, friends-with-benefits, mutual pining, 18+ minors DNI

Synopsis: After the Sully kids get attacked by the newly found Recombinant Soldiers, Jake makes the tough decision to leave the Omatikaya. Neteyam is forced to say goodbye to you, to your relationship and to the life he always dreamed about.

A/N: So I decided to split what was originally supposed to be one chapter into two, and this way I get to make good use of the amazing song that @karma-is-a-cat-purringinmylap was amazing enough to turn me on to, that just happened to work like a glove (the first non TS song in my works!!!)! I think I will try sticking to shorter chapters, as I feel 10k chapter might be a a bit overwhelming overall. Now, did this chapter make me cry several times? Yes. Will it make you cry? I'm hoping you will tell me soon ;)

enjoy besties ily xoxo

: ̗̀➛ listen to Before It Sinks In here : ̗̀➛ masterlist (x) : ̗̀➛ series masterlist (x)

Suspended in the air, I hear myself breathing

Hanging by a thread, my heart is barely beating

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Neteyam watched as you ran towards the lake that he wanted so badly to show you, he was practically buzzing by the time he got to Hell’s Gate. He found this little spot accidentally a few days ago while on a hunt, and it’s been on his mind ever since, exuberant at the thought of you in it, at the thought of your face splitting in a wide smile and your eyes widening taking it all in. He thought of the little squeal you would make as you saw the waterfall and way you’d jump off his back immediately and make your way without thinking of your clothes, or the mask, or anything else. The scene unfolding in front of him was exactly the way he pictured it, a testament to how long you’ve been in each other’s lives, how well he knew every facet of your being, like you were just an extension of his own self, like you were a complicated poem he’s dedicated his whole life deciphering and could now recite by heart, could now dissect it and appreciate it endlessly, to its full potential. 

You didn’t look back as you just hurriedly made your way to the edge of the water, taking off pieces of clothing as you did, until you were in a lace thong and bra, that Neteyam has seen multiple times before. He could see it every day, every minute of the day, it could be tattooed on his eyeballs and it would still not stop the way his mouth instantly filled with saliva and his head felt dizzy from all the blood travelling downwards. You were the most beautiful woman he’s ever laid his eyes on. Actually, beautiful did nothing to describe you. Beautiful had nothing on you. Neteyam wished he was more articulate at times like this, he wishes he would have read all the hundreds of books residing in the big library in Hell’s Gate where you loved to spend your time, in order to find the proper word to describe you. In order to validate his postulation that there was, in fact, not a single word in all of the English language, or Na’vi, for that matter, to encapsulate what you meant to him, how he viewed you. 

A splashing noise is all he heard as you jumped quietly in the water, and he followed suit, a little concerned when you wouldn’t resurface, until it dawned on him you could breathe underwater with the mask on. When you did resurface, you were standing right underneath the waterfall, the biggest smile in the world plastered on your face, and Neteyam couldn’t help his own that blossomed like how the flowers in the morning bloom did, like how his love for you did. 

Neteyam couldn’t remember his life before this. Before tangled bodies and insurmountable pleasures. He couldn’t remember who he had been, what used to occupy his mind and thoughts, what feelings, middling and insignificant, used to plague him before your being took over everything, over every second of every day, over every dream and nightmare, over the past, present and future. Neteyam knew he fucked up. Knew that he lied to you that day, when he told you he wouldn’t fall in love with you. Because he did, he fell like from a distance so far removed he could no longer see the ground. And yet, Neteyam knew the ground was there, and that gravity was pushing him towards it, and that whilst the fall was freeing and exhilarating now, while now it felt like flying, once it ended, it would crush all his bones, and his spirit, and his soul. 

“This might be the best thing you’ve ever shown me!” You were screaming loudly, trying to be heard above the booming noise of the waterfall crashing down in deafening roars, and he laughed at how enthusiastic you seemed, how wild and free. You’ve always been like that, Neteyam mused. You kept to yourself in the labs, and in the village, around the scientists and other people, around his mother and the clan - but when you were around people you loved, people you were comfortable with, you were uninhibited and unconfined to expectations, and fears and limitations, at liberty to be yourself, to shine brighter than any star in the sky. 

“What are you doing over there, Teyam? You know I don’t like to be kept waiting!” 

He shook his head, but said nothing as he removed his cummerbund and knife belt and dove in the warm water, swimming until he reached you. As soon as he did, your arms and legs encircled him like they always tended to, automatically and without thought. 

You looked in his eyes, and the glimmer in it made Neteyam’s mind freeze and go blank, made his heart thump in his chest and sweat pool on his skin, that was promptly washed away by the undulating water. 

“I want to kiss you.” Neteyam couldn’t help the words coming out of his mouth, a confession and a plea all in one, a futile one in the face of untouchable facts, such as the fact being without your mask will kill you.

You smiled and placed a soft hand on his face, tracing his lips gently, and he shuddered under the touch. “I want to kiss you, too.” 

“Thank you, Teyam. This is beautiful.”

“I’m glad you like it, ma Vol. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to bring you here. It was the only thing on my mind, the thought of you and m-“ Neteyam realised his mouth was running faster than his mind could keep up, a rare occurrence in his life, but fairly common in your presence. 

Your eyes were wide and full of surprise, and fear started creeping on your face, unannounced and unwelcome, although not completely unexpected. He shouldn’t have said that. Every time things got a little too… intimate between the two of you, any time either of you pushed the boundaries that you both established, boundaries that you needed to abide by above all, it took a while to fall back into step, to get things back to normal, to mutually forget and pretend it never happened. He didn’t want that to happen again. Things were going great for you two, and he didn’t want to lose any time with you, any time he could be loving you instead, any time he could be making you writhe underneath him, any time at all. 

“I - I just meant… you know… I -“ 

Your slender fingers found his lips again and at the small pressure you put on them, he stopped talking. Your eyes softened and your surprised expression melted into one of muted happiness, of unspoken affection, of forbidden feelings. 

“I know.” 

You spent hours swimming and giggling, splashing water at each other, enjoying how, when both submerged, the difference between you didn’t seem that extreme, the discrepancy in your bodies and your heights nothing that couldn’t be promptly overcome. You talked until your lungs were running out of breath and your voices hoarse, just catching up and discussing everything that’s been going on since you hadn’t seen each other. 

Right behind a waterfall stood a layered rock formation, which happened to allow for perfect positioning so that, when sat on it, your and Neteyam’s faces were at the same level. You smirked as you slipped your finger in the band of his loincloth and tugged at it until he took the hint and got closer to you. He didn’t have time to protest you taking off your mask recklessly and smashing your lips against his, a kiss so passionate and deep, it pushed any rational thought out of his mind and replaced it with desire and a tingling ache, one that he knew too well, one that seemed ever-present around you. 

“Vol..” he tried to speak against your lips, but you just shook your head and deepened the kiss, pushing your tongue past his lips until it met his, entangling in a suave dance until you were panting and heaving against him. He tsked annoyed at your foolhardiness, and watched patiently while you fastened to mask on yourself again and took deep, settling breaths. 

“You take my breath away… get it?” You laughed and then laughed some more at how unamused he was. “Come on, it’s funny.”

“You putting your life in danger foolishly is not funny to me.” 

You smirked and shrugged indifferently. “Well, not everyone gets my sophisticated sense of humour.” 

“God, I hate this mask.” 

Neteyam knew how much you hated it. He hated it, too. He’d give anything to be able to kiss you freely, to caress your face, to feel your lips and your soft skin, to see your eyes reflecting the colours of the nature surrounding you instead of a piece of glass doing it instead. Fortunately, Neteyam always knew how to cheer you up. 

“Vol…” he started, voice so low and soft it was almost purring. His long fingers traced your beautiful body, and each freckle adorning it, until he reached your panties, that he skilfully pulled down your thighs, until you were hanging on to them by an ankle. “Just because you can’t kiss my lips, doesn’t mean I can’t kiss yours.” 

Neteyam watched as your upper body leaned backwards until your back hit the rock wall, pushing your head back and closing your eyes in anticipation. Your hand found its way to his hair, that you grasped tightly and pushed him down, and he laughed at your already needy and disheveled demeanour. “You know, Teyam? You’re definitely the bestest friend a girl could ever ask for.” 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I haven't fallen yet, but I feel it comin'

Tell me would it be too much to ask, if you break it to me gently

“What?” Neteyam could hardly believe his ears, could hardly believe that the words coming out of his dad’s mouth were his current reality, and not a nightmare his mind concocted to make him ill, to keep him awake until his eyes started burning in his skull. 

“We are leaving. Tomorrow.”

Neteyam watched in pain as Tuk cried silently and immediately felt the pang of fraternal instincts kick in, urging him to pick her up and hold her close in his arms, let her cry it out in the crook of his neck. 

“But why, daddy? I don’t want to leave.” 

His dad’s stiff posture melted at his daughter’s words, that he could never resist. His eyes softened and he sighed, taking his mother’s hand in his. 

“Because we are in danger, baby girl. We now know the humans brought Avatars with them, that they brought the best soldiers back to life to hunt and kill me. And they will stop at nothing to do it, including hurting you.”

The only thought spiralling violently in Neteyam’s mind, as usual, was you. His heart was pounding aggressively in his chest, the increased heart rate making his ears hurt and his head dizzy. What did this mean? How would leave? Just the family? What about you and Spider? You were family to him, and to the rest of the Sullys. Maybe not to his mother, but even she would never want anything bad to happen to you. If you did come, would you make it in another clan? Would they ever accept two humans as one of their own? The Omatikaya barely did, and you have been part of their lives for 19 years. What if you didn’t come? He couldn’t leave you. He couldn’t lose you. What was he supposed to do? 

No. No, he couldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave. He wouldn’t leave you, he promised you, he promised himself. No matter what would ever happen in this life or the next, Neteyam knew you were the only constant he cared about, the only person he wanted to take with him and keep for the rest of time. He would tell his father no. For the first time in his life, Neteyam would tell his father no. 

“Kids, I can’t risk putting you in danger. I can’t risk putting the Omatikaya in danger once more, leading them to war. I have too much to lose.” His eyes flickered to his mother, that was sobbing silently by his side, but tried to keep it together for her family and be brave, have a strong heart. 

“We have too much to lose. If we go, we can keep them safe. The clan…” His father looked intently at his kids, eyes focused on Kiri and Neteyam. “…The humans.” 

The humans… 

Leaving would protect the humans. Leaving would protect you. 

I'm waking the next day, without you beside me

And who I hold on to today, tomorrow will just be a memory

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

You and Neteyam’s friendship had a lot of boundaries, for good measure. It was necessary when you were doing things normally reserved for couples, or mates, when you were doing things to each other that no one else would approve of, or understand. One of the rules of the game was that you wouldn’t sleep together. You used to, when you were younger, but that was when your relationship was platonic, back when things were… normal. Now, you thought sleeping together and cuddling would be too intimate, too inappropriate, and it would lead to feelings, feelings you were trying to avoid, feelings which might get in the way of the harmless fun you were having, feelings which might make everything… complicated. It was all just fun. Just fun. 

That being said, as it turns out, you were both really bad at following your own self-imposed rules, and so it didn’t take too long for you to break them all. 

Deep, satisfied pants were all that could be heard in the big recreation centre that Neteyam knew by heart by now. It was dark, his freckles the only light that reflected in your eyes, the only light you needed. 

“Well, we’re definitely getting better at that.” you said with a small chuckle. That might have been the understatement of the century, but you didn’t want to scare him by telling him that if it was up to you, you’d have him tied in this room with a chain only loose enough so that he could do this 24/7, but just tight enough so he’d never leave. 

You were laying with your head on his chest, as you always seemed to after a long and exhausting session. You loved the feel of his smooth, muscular body, that, despite your size difference, was somehow the most comfortable pillow you’ve ever slept on. 

“I’m exhausted. I feel like you and Lo’ak forget sometimes that me and Spider aren’t Na’vi, and yet you work us like we are.”

“Stop complaining, Vol. I need you to be strong and agile, ok? I need to know you’re safe and that you can take care of yourself despite this tiny frail body you possess.”

You raised an eyebrow and scoffed annoyedly, mumbling mostly to yourself. 

“Didn’t see you complain about my ‘tiny, frail body’ 20 minutes ago when you were fu-“ 

“Stop, Vol. You know what I mean. The humans are going to be back at some point, we both know that. And you spend too much time in this place, with your experiments and your books and your shows. I know you don’t like being in the village, and I know that my mother and the villagers give you a hard time sometimes, but at least when we go tracking, or hunting, or practicing, I want you there. I need to know you’re safe, ok?” 

He stopped talking, and he sighed deeply, tightening his grip on your body. When he spoke again, his voice was barely above a whisper, laced with intense emotion. 

“I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to you.” 

You nuzzled your face in his chest and mirrored his grip on you, smiling softly at his concern and his words, that ran shivers down your spine and fluttered butterfly wings in your stomach. 

“The worst thing that could ever happen to me is losing you, Teyam. Everything else, I will handle like the big girl I am.” 

He kissed the top of your head, and you stood like that for a while, enjoying the comfortable silence. The thought of this moment ending hurt you deeply, so much so, you couldn’t fathom it. So you decided not to. 

“Don’t go. You’re comfortable and I’m cold, and my room seems uninviting by comparison.” 

He chuckled imperceptibly. “You love your room, ma Vol. You’ve written songs about how much you love your bed.” 

“I love you, more.” 

He sighed once more, but pulled you closer and settled down for the night. “I love you most.” 

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

I would look back at all of this and wonder why I stayed in here

Just to watch you disappear

When Neteyam reached your room in the lab complex, his heart was in his throat and his knees were wobbly, and he was almost reminiscent of his Uniltaron and how the worm made him feel, like he wasn’t there anymore, not fully. Like he could see his body from outside itself, like his was mind watching everything unfold from a safe distance. His movements felt robotic and untethered, no thought outside of how was he supposed to do this? How was he supposed to leave you? How was he supposed to tell you that it’s over, that maybe you won’t lose him to another woman but you still will lose him nonetheless. Neteyam was trying to think which one was better. In a sea of two impossible choices, two unhappy endings, two roads reaching the same endpoint, which one was the lesser evil? And was there ever a third path? Was it ever possible, for you and him… a happy ending? 

He used to think so, used to hope so. Used to love the daydreams and nights picturing it, so clear and vivid in his mind, it was like it was all unfolding in front of his eyes. You, tall and blue, laughing like you always did, taking your Iknimaya. The two of you, riding from dusk til dawn, discovering secret coves and falling asleep on green moss, where he would be able to kiss you freely, where he would be able to link to your thoughts and feelings and know that this was it, his most formidable desire come alive. His family, your family, carefree and happy, full of kids' laughter and formidable first steps, full of joy and love, full of him and you. That's all he's ever wanted. A family with the woman he loved. Not the woman he was promised to, not whichever new one they'd have to find for him in the Metkayina, the woman he loved. The only one.

But now, as he was standing in this room, that he may never see again, listening to the shower that he knew you were currently in, the dream feels further away than it ever has, further each minute, until it was slowly fading from view, so dim and dwindling, until it was gone from his life, gone from his mind, forever. Until only hurt existed, only the gaping hole left behind by your absence, by all the shattered dreams and the shards of broken hearts, his own and the one he knew he'd break tonight.

The anxiety that burned every part of his body also made his tail jerk violently in every direction, and he was pulled out of his nightmare by the sound of trinkets getting thrown on the ground. 

“Shit.” 

Neteyam thought he’d have more time. Hoped that he could gather himself and his thoughts, hoped he would formulate a plan in the few minutes you would still be in the shower. He knew you would have heard it, so he knew he didn’t have that luxury anymore. He still didn’t know how he could ever make the words come out. How he could ever go through with this. 

As he kneeled on the floor to collect the broken vase that was now a fitting image of his soul, he heard the door to the bathroom open, but his eyes remained fixated on the task at hand, unable to look in your eyes, whose memory, whose incandescent beauty would haunt Neteyam for life. He tried to speak past the overbearing lump in his throat.

"Sorry. I wish I could control my tail better, but it's always an accident waiting to happen in these tight rooms."

The silence that befell the room was stifling and suffocating, and Neteyam felt the gaping hole enlarge, felt it taking over his entire chest, seeping into every ounce of his body, spreading like wildfire.

When you did speak, Neteyam almost wished you didn't. Because your voice did nothing to improve his condition, but worked as a perfect catalyst for further breakage, further pain. It was sad, and muted. It was disappointed. It was everything he never wanted your voice to be like when directed at him.

"Why are you here, Neteyam?"

"What do you mean why I am here? I can't be here?"

Neteyam spoke without thinking. He felt adrenaline taking over him, his body knowing he wouldn't be able to do this without the emboldenment given to him in this moment.

"You can, you just never are anymore."

“Vol… come on. You know it’s different now than it was in the village, in Hell’s gate. We’re going to get caught.”

“Yeah, well, we wouldn’t want to get caught. God forbid anybody knows you fuck me in your free time.” 

“Vol…”

Neteyam didn't understand why he was fighting you about something so trivial. It didn't matter. None of this mattered. None of this mattered, and yet, Neteyam felt compelled to speak his truth. No matter what form it came in.

“I know you’re upset about today. I’m sorry.”

“Why would I be upset about today? You did what you had to do. I mean, she’s going to be your mate soon, right? It’s her hands that should be healing you anyway, not mine. Those are going to scar, by the way.”

Neteyam hated to admit it, because he fancied himself a good person, a person who is respectful and caring and conscientious, but he couldn't have cared less about her if he tried. In fact, his engagement being broken might be the only silver lining in the sea of black dread. He only cared about you. In fact, the distance, and the tension, and the silence and the pain, it was too much. He needed to feel you. If this was his last day with you, he'd be damned if he spent it not feeling your body, and your warmth, not looking in your eyes.

You were so easy to manoeuvre on the bed, it would have been laughable under any other circumstances. Not tonight. When he got on top of you, and felt your bare thighs touching his, and your hand wrapped around his arm, and your eyes boring into his, he felt so much love it was overwhelming him, so sure, for the first time in his life, of that you were the only one he'd ever love, that he was irrevocably in love with you for the rest of time. So regretful of the time he could have spent loving you, and telling you, of the time he spent hiding, only to never get the chance of confessing, never get the chance to follow through on his promises.

“Stop. I know you are upset. I wish it could have been you. You know me, Vol. You know I wish it could have been you.” 

Your subtle head shaking made felt sharp bursts of pain shoot through him, like his queue was connected to an electrical socket.

“You should go, Neteyam. This isn’t right. You’re engaged to someone else. I watched her today, watched how worried she was about you, how desperate to help you, to take you away so it’s just the two of you. You’re going to mate with this girl any day now. There’s no room for me in your life anymore. Not like this, anyway.”

He sighed and got off from on top of you, no matter how loudly his mind was screaming otherwise. He wouldn't do anything you weren't comfortable with.

“The engagement is broken.” 

He wanted to stop. He could just stop and not say anything else. He could just end it there, and watch as your eyes widened in shock, then settled on a happy, relieved disposition that he saw so vividly in his mind's eye, it was almost as if was happening. He could just not go. He could stay, and love you, and make love to you, and keep you. It would be so easy. Nothing's ever been as easy as falling in love with you.

Leaving would protect the humans. Leaving would protect you. 

“Because I’m leaving. I’m leaving the Omatikaya, and so is my family.” 

Far beyond my reach is the future you promised

Now what I never even had, I have every reason to miss

"What did you just say?"

You heard him wrong. You must have heard him wrong. You wiped his tears off your face and sat up, feet dangling off the bed.

"Vol..."

"What did you say, Neteyam?"

You felt anger pick at you like you liked picking at your nails when anxiety took the better of you, and it hurt, and it burned, but anger was better than sadness, so you let it burn until you were ashes on the ground.

"My dad said we have to leave for the Metkayina clan. They're looking for him, trying to kill him. If we go, the clan will be safe. You will be safe."

"Are you kidding me right now? Please tell me it's one of those jokes like the ones Spider and Lo'ak love making that I don't get, but they find hilarious, for some reason. Please, Neteyam. Please."

You were begging, you realised. Outside of the intimacy of your bedroom and the cover of darkness, you never begged. You have never begged anyone for anything in your life. And there you were. Pathetic and weak. Begging a guy, the guy, to spare whatever was left of your heart with just a few words. All it took was a few words.

Neteyam wiped tears off his face and stood arrested in your room, arms limp by his side, like he couldn't move. Like you couldn't move.

"I'm not kidding, Vol. Trust me, I want nothing more than to be kidding. I want nothing more than for this to be a stupid, childish joke. But it's not. We are leaving tomorrow."

You were too stunned to speak, so you opted for the only other reaction your body seemed to be able to produce: laughter. You laughed. Loudly and obsessively, louder than you should have, louder than you ever have. It was so ridiculous, so ludicrous, it felt like the only appropriate reaction.

"This can't be real. This can't be happening."

Neteyam knelt by your side on the bed, and took your shoulders in his hands, urging you to look in his forlorn eyes, red and puffy, just like yours were.

“Vol, don’t you understand?! This is going to protect you. This way you get to be safe. I need to know that you are fucking safe, and if that means I go, then I go.” 

There it was again, the anger picking at your brain until it buried everything else, until it was the only thing.

“Oh, that is such bullshit! Stop acting like you would choose to stay regardless of your family’s choice, even if it kept me safe. You have never been able to choose for yourself, never done anything outside of what Jake ever said, what Neytiri said, what Mo’at said, no matter how bad a choice, no matter how much you didn’t want it. I’m supposed to believe that it would be different now why?"

“It would, Vol, because it’s you!” he shook you gently as he said that, eyes so intense, so serious - so truthful.

"So stay. Just fucking stay. Please."

“Even if I stay, I still have to mate with her, don’t you understand?”

You knew that he was right. There was no win for you. For either of you. This life was cruel, and it gave with one hand and took with both, always leaving you with less than what you started. You weren’t one to question the meaning of life or the fairness of the universe, but now, taking in the man you loved more than anything in the world, the man who you knew loved you, you wondered what was the point of it all? Why were you here? Was there really that much cruelty reserved just for you? Were you how humanity was paying for its horrible missteps on Pandora? Were you an experiment, a toy put on here just as a Voodoo doll for Eywa, and every time she pricked another needle in you, it would reflect back on Earth and on of the people banished back to it? It felt like that sometimes, and it definitively felt like that tonight.

"I can't believe this. I can't believe you."

It suddenly felt much like you exchanged moods in between you, his despondent, wretched one passed on to you and replaced with your anger, strong and unwieldy.

“God fucking damn it, Vol! Do you think I want any of this, do you think this is my choice, that this would ever be my choice?! I'm trying to protect you! I'm trying to make sure you are safe, that the clan is safe! What the hell do you want from me?!” 

He was angry and desperate, tears obvious in his eyes, as was the flush in his cheeks. Your eyes were leaking endless streams that you couldn’t push back, that you couldn’t remove from your cheeks in time before they were replenished, like they were begging to be seen and acknowledged, like the pain wouldn’t be denied - it wanted to be felt, and it didn’t care who it had to go through to do it. 

You felt emptiness envelop you like a shroud at the situation that settled in and had time to stew in your mind with each passing moment. It was over. All over. The dreaded ending, the wreck it would leave behind, it was greeting you like a warm friend, announcing its arrival. 

I'll just shut my eyes, forget that you were mine

How do you go from making one your home

And then just letting it all go

Your voice was numb and flat, quiet undulations with no emotion to give them any fluidity or any life. Your words were just a means to an end. 

“Nothing, Neteyam. I don’t want anything from you anymore.” 

You turned your back to him, unable to look at his skin on which traces of you still lingered, at his eyes in which you always saw the window to his soul, and your soul, the meaning of life and your future happiness encapsulated, his lips that traveled your body like a curious wanderer, finding Valhala in between your thighs, his hands which held your face and touched your hair, which pushed you closer to him or on him. A glance at any of these things and you would crumble, and you would shatter in a million pieces that no one knew well enough to put back together apart from him. You were a puzzle only he knew how to solve, and in his absence, you were all alone, and broken, left to mend your own cracks, knowing full well you’ll never be able to be put yourself back together quite the same way you were before. 

“Vol… please.”

“Leave, Neteyam. Just go. Just fucking go.”

Stay. Please. I love you. I’m so in love with you. Don’t leave me alone. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to lose you. Please. Please. Please. 

The sound of the door sliding closed behind Neteyam was the last thing you heard before he was out of your life, leaving everything you had behind.

So I breathe and let you go

How do I breathe and let you go?

Taglist: @liluvtojineteyam @pinkpantheris @netemoon @fanboyluvr @bananafruityawne @liluvtojineteyam @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @netemoon

[rekino2114]

Watching Horror movies with Veronika grebenshchikova

Halloween post #1

Pairings:Veronika grebenshchikova x gn reader.

Summary:Halloween with Veronika is always a terrifying time for every hope's peak student. Except for you, of course, for you, it's an opportunity to watch some scary movies while cuddled up to your horror obsessed girlfriend

TW:There is a bit of talk about self-harm, but nothing explicit

A/n:Come on, we all knew she was gonna be the first girl I was gonna do a Halloween post about. She has horror running through her veins. Since I didn't post the schedule, I guess you can try and guess the other girls if you want. I hope you like this and happy spooky month

Veronika treats Halloween like Christmas.

She counts down the days until the 31st by crossing the dates on her calendar and has a big red circle on the date, as if she needed a reminder.

She also decorates not just her own dorm or yours but literally the entire school. You help her too, but it's really impressive that just you two can decorate the entirety of Hope's peak in like a week.

But that causes problems for basically everyone that isn't you two, Arturo especially, who has to remind everyone that he is not an actual doctor when whit tells him that Charles fainted from seeing fake blood or when Xander brings him a knocked out teruko saying that a decoration fell on her.

But what she really looks forward to every year is doing a movie marathon with you. While she watches horror movies literally every day and often with you at her side, doing it during october feels special.

Right now, Veronika had just texted you that she finished preparations for movie night at her dorm and asked you to come over, so there you were now knocking on her door which you recognized not only because of the name tag and portrait but also because of the cobwebs and plastic spider she put on it

The moment she opened the door and saw you, Veronika immediately tackled you into in a hug

"Thanks for coming darling"

"Of course, i wouldn't miss this for the world"

She let you go and smiled brightly, and then you followed her into the room, which was even more decorated than you thought, full of lamps in the shape of pumpkins, bats and spider decorations hanging from the ceiling and fake blood poured all over the floor.

But what caught your attention the most was the table set up in front of the couch. It had all sorts of snacks like popcorn and chips, but especially pastries like cupcakes with eyeballs on them, cookies that looked like realistic hearts, and many others, there was even a jug of red juice in the center that looked like blood

"Let's get comfy on the couch ok?"

You nodded and did as she said. She quickly followed and put the blanket over you as she picked up the remote and turned to you

"So I recorded 31 horror movies for us to watch every day until Halloween. It'll be like an advent calendar"

"Oh that's a great idea babe"

"Thanks....I...actually thought to watch them all on the 31st at first, but then I realized that would have been more than 40 hours eheh...anyway what do you wanna watch first?"

You giggled at her admission

"How about the first scream? It's a classic, and we can continue watching the series the next days"

"Great choice my love"

She put on the movie and snugged closer to you

"Are you hungry? I have everything you could possibly want"

"Oh, thanks, yeah, I guess I kinda am"

"Great, don't move a muscle"

She grabbed a pastry and held it to your mouth

"Come on, Darling, open your mouth"

"D-do, you really have to feed me?"

"Of course isn't it so romantic?"

"......I guess"

You opened your mouth, and she fed you the sweet it tasted delicious, but a lot of red jam got stuck to your lips

"Oh, thanks, but I'm a bit dirty now. Do you have a towel?"

"Don't worry I can fix that"

She immediately kissed you passionately and licked all of the jam away. You kissed back for a few seconds before she pulled back

"If you wanted a kiss you could have just asked me"

"Maybe, but this is more fun. Licking the jam from off your lips made me feel like I was kissing a vampire or someone who just killed a person"

You sighed slightly but giggled again

"Let's just continue watching the movie"

Veronika nodded and focused back on the screen before putting her head on your shoulder. You felt so warm and comfortable. You made her feel happy

When she was with you, she didn't feel anything negative. She didn't feel like a weirdo or a freak. She truly felt loved and understood. but most importantly, she didn't feel the need to hurt herself. Her scars were still under her sleeves, but she didn't even think about them. She never had since starting to date you. She had so much fun with you, so she didn't need to do anything else.

"I love you so much, darling."

"I love you too vero"

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s5 episode 14 thoughts

we left off on some pretty high stakes last episode: bridges burning, eyeballs oozing, etc. now we must jump back in!

this episode is called “the red and the black”, huh… (les mis starts playing in the distance)

post episode thoughts: damn. this episode was full of twists and turns. the CSM lore goes CRAZY. krycek is your problematic bisexual representation. i do not believe that genes determine someone's capacity for evil, but i am going to have to ask this spender fellow to please back tf away from our agents. marita, you must defeat the ratboy in combat. please increase your studies of the blade. and perhaps most importantly, i love when mulder is written first and foremost as scully's loverboy and partner. yeah.

we begin with a recap of last episode, and ewww, those poor boy's eyes are soooo drippy and gross.

WHO IS THIS WRITING TO THEIR SON??? and who is this little boy in the winter snow, forced to be the mailman?

this mystery man is typing up a letter mentioning war gods, while this young child is out in the woods. someone go fetch this small child. he is wandering about. knocking on someone’s door and receiving a letter and dollar bill 

the mystery man is sending this red enveloped letter to the FBI???

wait hold on… it's a man living deep in the woods… writing a letter to his son in the FBI… is this CSM playing on the bastard mulder allegations…? because the typewriter… it’s CSM coded…

a bold swing and likely an equally bold miss, but we shall see

(i was so close and yet so far from the truth)

YOOO THE INTRO WAS SHORT *AND* WE GOT DIFFERENT WORDS THIS TIME!!! it says “resist or serve”! it has been a while since those have gotten changed up. hmm. "resist or serve" i do not care for that!!

back to the bridge slash dam area where we last saw many people gathering, including cassandra and scully. the burning has taken place!!! it was in pennsylvania?! that’s a bit of a drive from DC!!!

the medical personnel are arriving, and so is mulder!!! he’s running on his absurdly long legs while his coat billows behind him!!! does he know scully was here????

look at these bodies, they’re burned beyond any recognition!! it's horrible.

is that scully he finds??? no, and thank god for that.

skinner is here!!! mulder is yelling at him, asking if she was here, and he says she is!! and she is alive!!!

she was huddled in the woods… with a bunch of other survivors… and she had burns, but strangely all her fluids and electrolytes were gone!! the nurse tells these two men to gtfo because she is in vasogenic shock, which is not a term i know the meaning of 

look at mulder touching her hair while she is unresponsive...

(god, getting in those medical devices for a scene must be the worst)

they’re taking her away and he’s trying to follow!!! but they’re taking her in the helicopter. i thought for a second he would try and hop on and cause a scene, but he actually didn't do this.

(gruff skinner voice) “what happened here, mulder?” “the answer just got loaded onto that chopper!”

omg… are krycek’s people going to be after her, too?!? like they were after that poor boy dmitri??

agent spender is here, too. he wants to know if his mother has been found. :(

jump to a wildly different scene. is the well-groomed man a surgeon?? we see that marita is intubated!!! she was found on the roadside after her cryptic call with mulder, and it doesn’t look good for her survival. nooo, she has to live so she can backstab krycek. please hear me, queen.

OHHH he opens her eyeball and sees it covered in that nasty black oil stuff… and the syndicate is watching from above?!?! what will they do!! can they run some trials??

MULDER BRUSHING SCULLY’S HAIR TO WAKE HER UP IN THE HOSPITAL BED AND THEN SMILING GENTLY AT HER…. OH MY GOD I NEED TO LAY DOWN

if you could HEAR the noise that just came out of my throat….

LOOK AT HIM LOOKING AT HER, OH MY GOOOOOD

she asks what time is it and he LAUGHS!! oh my god, she nearly died and she just wants to know the hour... scully, you are so precious

he laughs at this question and she asks “why are you laughing?” <-OH SHE’S SELF-CONSCIOUS. STOP. I’LL CRY!!!

“i’m not laughing at you. i’m just very happy to be standing here talking to you, that’s all” <- OH MY GOD HE LOVES HER SO BAAAAAAAD he was so gentle in that explanation

(god. rereading these notes is killing me all over again. he loves her, he loves her, he loves her, a million times over. the way he explained to her that he's not making fun of her, he's just relived she's okay... oh mulder. you sweet man. absolute pathetic wet cat of a guy. you are so dear to me)

((SEE, WRITERS? see what mulder can be?! this is the man i recognize! jot that down! he's a lover!))

she asks him what she is doing here, suddenly panicked. and he gently explains, raising her bed so she can sit up while taking a seat next to her. oh my god. the tenderness. it will kill me a thousand times.

(there is something addictive stored in hospital scenes. the relief of realizing that someone is still with you, the terrible possessiveness it provokes after you almost lost them, realizing how lucky you are to have them in your life, loving someone at their most vulnerable, and the person in the hospital bed allowing themselves to be loved and cared for......... bottle it up. let it sit in the cellar and i'll pour it out only on the most special of occasions)

she can’t remember what happened. oh my god, she’s so scared :( the report on the incident is playing in her room.

she has no memories of what went on at the dam, but at this time a nurse comes in and lays her back down, saying she needs her blood pressure to come back up, and shooing mulder out. oh, i paused to write this down and she looks like a deer in the headlights. so trapped.

he says he’ll come back, but she has something to say!!! he’s out the door with a thumb’s up, though, trying to reassure her it'll be okay as she has no idea wtf is going on 

i’ve said it once i’ll say it again: poor scully :(

agent spender is here!! they didn’t find his mother, and he wants to know what mulder was “doing with her”. she hasn’t driven in a long time, and he knows scully was meeting with her!!! he wants them to leave her alone :( but now scully is wrapped up in this, too. so his mother might be the key to getting answers. agent spender, you may not get your wish.

oh, back to the russian ship in the new york harbor. krycek is chained up!!! well-groomed man is here… is some torture about to go down??

he says that the ship is heading back to russia tomorrow, and he is (sarcastically) sure that krycek's gulag pals will be happy to see him after his whole cutting and running deal. well-groomed man is dripping water into his mouth, and it’s making me thirsty.

OHHH get him for me: “your alliance with her was as misguided as ours, but it appears she was unaware of the consequences of her deception” marita... you are so mysterious...

omg, so krycek infected the boy so that anyone who betrayed him would also get infected!!!!

damn. did not wanna see krycek taking the W here. marita, you NEED to get better NOW and get some revenge.

but dmitri is dead!!! he died in the pennsylvania incident. 

krycek says that well-groomed man has to make a deal with him… but well-groomed man is no fool!

NOOOO I GOOGLED THE WELL-GROOMED MAN TO MAKE SURE I WAS USING THE RIGHT NAME (and i WASN’T, it’s “WELL-MANICURED MAN” and i got a SPOILER💔)

this is why i should not do these things. if i call someone by the wrong name, y’all are just gonna have to let me know in the replies and cringe through my mistaken posts.

damn. 

well. it’s been 2 seasons. i might as well keep calling him the wrong name.

okay, so he put together that if krycek was willing to infect the boy, he also must have had a cure for him, developed by the russians. krycek is silent at this. 

AND THIS WOULD MEAN RESISTANCE TO THE COLONISTS IS NOW POSSIBLE ‼️‼️

OHHH well-groomed man is YELLING AT HIM!!!! “DO YOU HAVE THE VACCINE?” damn, it's very echo-y place to yell, in the bottom of a soviet ship. 

hmm… well-groomed man leaves. i hope he finds the vaccine and it is not copyrighted by anyone and the whole world can become immune to oil aliens. this is the good ending.

okay, what the hell is going on now! a plane just exploded? where did this take place?? someone is dragging a body away. and a ton of military personnel are moving in. 

OMG THE BODY DRAGGER IS THE NO FACE GUY FROM BEFORE!!! who was lighting the people on fire in the last episode!! is he an alien?? was that his spaceship??

back to more important matters at hand: scully. she’s looking through the photos of the incident at the dam that she was in attendance of, but cannot recall anything. and she is sitting up now, so that means improvement!

she cannot tell you where this place even is- but none of the other survivors have been able to give an account, either. very interesting that they felt called there but cannot recount it.

mulder found more implants in the bodies, which would explain how she and the others got there. must be her new implant that cured the cancer also inspires the feelings of restlessness that brought the others abductees to the dam. but it doesn’t explain why they wanted those people dead, or why she lived.

“all comes down to a question, scully, one that hasn’t been answered or… i don’t even think honestly addressed: who made that chip in your neck?” <- OH SHOOT... HE’S (finally) GOING THERE!!!

it was found in a military research facility… he’s convinced it was the government that did all this, to do biological experiments and warfare

“the truth i’ve been searching for? the truth is in you” <- oh my god… the truth being her… hold on, i need a moment for that one.

the truth being something that is physically within someone, and as a result, being able to hold The Truth; the truth being the forceful result of autonomy being stripped away; the truth being an act of violence; the truth being the north star that guides you; all of these things being in contradiction and embodied in dana scully. i am getting ideas for poetry out of this line. everybody say thank you mulder for making me want to pick up a pencil.

oh shoot. i sense some stuff is about to go down.

“mulder, when i met you five years ago, you told me that your sister had been abducted… by aliens” (he smiles, as if thinking his past self is foolish, or recalling that first night together, or both of these things)

“that that event had marked you so deeply that nothing else mattered. i didn’t believe you, but i followed you, on nothing more than your faith that the truth was out there, based not on facts, not on science, but on your memories that your sister had been taken from you. your memories were all that you had”

(faith being a motif in scully's life... faith not in what he thinks, but in him as a person... belief being a motif in both of their lives in opposite directions... her faith placed in him and in science, and his in her and in the unknown... man, hold on...)

“i don’t trust those memories now”, he points out.

“well, whether you trust them or not, they’ve led you here. and me. but i have no memories to either trust nor distrust, and if you ask me now to follow you again, to stand behind you in what you now believe, without knowing what happened to me out there, without those memories, i can’t. i won’t”

oh my god. ohhhh my god. is this the end? do they travel no further upon this twisted road together? and if it is the end, can we even blame her?

he gets up and looks out the window, probably to conceal the inner turmoil

he wants to give her those memories, to prove that what he believed for so long was wrong… but she asks if that is really what he wants

:( :(

this has the sort of emotional weight that makes me think i'll be unpacking it for decades. i will give it room to nestle into my soul, break my heart, and then dissect it in detail at a later time.

back to the syndicate. according to their reports, the guy with no face seems to have lost his facial features in self-mutilation done as protection (??). no facial features is protection against infection by the black oil!!! omg!!!

he’s an alien rebel!!!! omg!! that is what the boy saw last episode! so this alien rebel was the one that did the torching!! he’s fighting against the alien colonists!!!

a war has begun!!! 

OH SHIT!!! well-groomed man HAS the vaccine!! it was what was in that bottle that krycek stole last episode! do you think he’s telling the truth, or just bluffing to try and inspire resistance against the colonists?! well, we can find it out if we inject marita...

well-groomed man wants to side with the rebel, but the other dude says that the alien colonists will squash them! a terrible dilemma. reminds me of the civil war plotline in skyrim. you must take a stand against the aliens!!!!

so they inject marita….

but before we can learn if that mystery liquid krycek snatched from the gulag has any effects on marita, we cut to dr. werber’s office!!! he asks if scully is okay with this, and she quietly says she is. mulder is playing with his tie on the other end of the couch.

oh my god, so even though he didn't trust his own memories, he's going to bring her to his doctor to undergo the same process? he must really want to prove she experienced what she did.

the doctor is laying her down, and she’s watching mulder before she closes her eyes and tries to relax everything…. is it going to work??

OH!! she’s screaming!!! and mulder is freaked tf out as she does so!!!

she’s recalling the ship flying over…

and she’s groaning, tapping the couch next to mulder, wordlessly asking for him to hold her hand as she relives the awful moments (oh my GOD???)

she’s remembering the people with no faces lighting the others on fire. and there’s another ship!! and the rebels are burned up by the ship!! 

and then the second ship TAKES cassandra!! from right next to her!! they all lift their hands in supplication and she rises up out of her wheelchair!!! the aliens beam her up!!

she’s still yelling when the doctor tries to get her to come back, and it takes three tries to do so. she finally does, and she’s still panting when she turns to look at mulder and asks him if he was there the whole time. and he nods.

so that means that her body knew she needed to hold his hand despite her not being mentally present at all... the way they need each other...

holy fuck, we have never seen scully screaming in that level of distress before. and we have seen some CRAZY scully distress!! like when she lost her father, or when she confronted her sister’s killer. but this was SO out of body, the whole thing, like watching her worst nightmare.

and what is mulder thinking right now?? is he back in his alien era?? how does it feel to watch your best friend scream and scream in terror, knowing you can do nothing to stop it because the terrible things already happened??

please just cuddle for a bit, you two. take a breather.

SKINNER LISTENED TO THE TAPE OF HER BEING HYPNOTIZED!!! oh my god. imagine your boss listening to your worst memories…

despite sitting through scully having her own experience, mulder still refers to the memory of his sister’s abduction as false. so does he think this didn’t really happen to scully, either? i mean, they found her body there, and like 50 dead people! if i’m mulder i’d be thinking gee, maybe i was wrong about the memories of my youth being false!! this seems a little suspicious!! what is this man thinking...?

skinner clarifies that he needs to make a REPORT and this is nothing to go on. well. this is not unusual. 

mulder says the whole thing was staged by the government, and cassandra was taken by a military aircraft. but i ask: how would the government manage to kill 50 people and embed false memories in the others??

i mean, false memories through repeated hypnotherapy sessions for just mulder seems possible. it would take a while, but maybe they could convince him of the nature of his sister's disappearance being supernatural. but how could they do that so suddenly, and to so many people at once? i'm not buying it.

this explanation does not seem to please the pensive skinner

“over the past five years, i’ve doubted you, only to be persuaded by the power of your belief in extraterrestrial phenomena. and i’m doubting you now not because of that belief, but… because extraterrestrial phenomena is, frankly, the more plausible explanation” <- ohhh, we are allowed some insight into the enigma that is skinner’s mind…

(it is actually really interesting to see how skinner views mulder and the nature of his work and beliefs. i've wondered where he falls on the spectrum of believer to non-believer for a while; i guess i thought he was somewhere in the middle, not committed to anything beyond catching the bad guy of the day. if using secret psychic thwarting tricks helps get a killer off of the streets, by all means, he'll let mulder give it a go. but i think his skepticism on the authenticity of his claims makes sense. sure buddy, you can go buy a ghost detecting machine if it makes the public safer. just... get things done)

“then i suggest you put that in your report”, snaps mulder, who gets up to leave. BRO IS ALWAYS SO SNIPPY WITH SKINNER. HE IS ON YOUR SIDE. BE NICE TO HIM. meanwhile scully is sitting here in immense pain trying to figure out wtf is going on….

back to marita. the other syndicate guy is proclaiming that the vaccine does not work. he wants to turn the alien rebel over!!

but well-groomed man says they have to hold onto him- if they turn him in, they lose all chance of resistance!! i’m lowkey with him here. like, through the power of friendship everything is possible. consider that.

NOOO, this other guy says he already turned the alien rebel back over, and well-groomed man is left in shock! how wild our narrative is that i had come to root for him for a brief moment, and now feel sad that his ideas have been shot down!!

why is agent spender down in the basement office... did he let himself into the office of our agents? i do not like this one bit. he is not visually intimidating, but his aura is unsettling.

what is this dude doing…? he says he’s here about his mother. but he’s asking scully weird questions…

he wants to know what scully and his mother talked about. then he starts playing a video of baby him!!! and it seems he is doing regression hypnosis, and he’s recalling cassandra going up into the sky. but he says none of it happened!!! he said his mom told him to say those things!!!

he claims she told the story over and over again to make up for the fact that his dad left them and it drove his mother insane. which. doesn't really explain everything, but i guess it's a start.

he thinks dr. werber indulged in his mother’s fantasies and that his methods are dangerous and unsound, and she ought to question anything she experienced in his office

“well i appreciate your opinion, agent spender,  but i don’t have a mother feeding me abduction stories” <- GET HIM ‼️

“you’ve got agent mulder, don’t you?” <- OHHH, DON’T GO THERE YOU BRAT. and besides, he doesn’t even BELIEVE IN THAT STUFF ANYMORE. get lost.

(editing these notes and this pissed me tf off again. because how dare he imply that mulder is manipulating her psychologically instead of being her partner and seeing her as an equal? god forbid the two of them respect each other. no, clearly it MUST be that the man is taking advantage of the woman, tricking her into thinking alien thoughts in the same way spender's mother did to him. right?!? (heavy on the /s, btw) don't piss me off, buddy. implying their relationship is not built on mutual respect is going to piss me off EVERY time, no matter who is comes from!!!)

he tells her not to let herself be used, and there are tears in her eyes :( well right now, mr. spender, you seem like the one doing the using

when mulder gets home, he finds a note on the floor: “things are looking up” OH SHIT, SOMEONE IS ATTACKING HIM

“you must be losing it, mulder. i can beat you with one hand” GTFO KRYCEK I’M SERIOUS!!! I’LL CALL PEST CONTROL

“isn’t that how you like to beat yourself?” <- LMAOOOOO mulder may be on the ground with a gun in his face, but that man ALWAYS has a one liner 

“hear this, agent mulder, because what i’m telling you is deadly serious: there is a war raging, and unless you pull out of the sand, you and i and about five billion other people are going to go the way of the dinosaur” <- oh shit… he has to pick a side… between the colonists and the resistance!!

is the whole fate of the world really in his hands? can he not share that responsibility with his friends?

mulder is laughing at his claims of alien colonization. 

“one rule: resist or serve” <- KRYCEK SAID THE WORDS ON THE SCREEN

he calls krycek a murder and a liar and a coward, and asks how is he supposed to trust him!!! points were made!!

the mass incinerations were to disrupt the colonization… and one man is being held captive. if he dies, so does the resistance. hmm. how do you know all this, krycek? source: trust me bro

DID HE JUST KISS MULDER???

krycek is your problematic bisexual representation… wow. who would have guessed?

(been 3 days now since i watched this episode and i am STILL shocked. yeah yeah i KNOW he's russian, and european people smooch sometimes when they say hello, but that is NOT what happened here. at all. he was pinning mulder to the ground, filled with fury, and then lust overtook, as it so often does)

he gives his gun to mulder…. and says good luck in russian, leaving a very angry and sad agent on the floor. damn. i also need a moment to process that. 

let us take some time together to ponder.

okay.

HEY! i know this guy from the air force base! he’s the alien bounty hunter!! and he’s breaking in!!!

mulder is sitting on his couch in despair when in comes scully.

“what are you doing sitting here in the dark?” “thinking” “about what?” “oh the usual- destiny, fate, how to throw a curveball… the inextricable relationships in our lives that are neither accidental nor somehow entirely in our control, either” <- poetic!!

the intimacy of knocking on your bestie's door and he is just sitting there pondering with all of the lights off... wow.

she comes to tell him she’s reconsidered her experiences with dr. werber!! nooo, do not let spender get to you!! and mulder has also done some reconsidering of his own… 

has his alien era returned??

krycek’s note left the name of an air base on the back!! they must go to find answers!!

no mention of the kiss to scully, which is fine i guess. but i would have been curious to see her reaction. she's pretty unflappable, although maybe she'd say he's unfolding like a flower again. and he’s out the door. 

they’re being let into the base at night. poor scully looks very sleepy. 

OHHH THE GUY DOESN’T WANT TO LET THEM IN…. and he says his name wrong (lmao), so mulder says there is a leak and that someone inside requires immediate medical aid.

HE CALLS THE GUY “SON”? “why don’t you go check on that, son. i’d hate for somebody to die because you were uninformed” <- woah. that was very weird. him calling someone that feels off and strange.

mulder wants to gun it to get into the facility while the gate guy is investigating his claims, but scully is surprised to know that she recognizes the driver of the truck across from them!!!

while the guard is being told he needs to place our agents under military arrest, mulder has hatched onto the back of the other truck!! scully is just sitting there like wtf, and is now being arrested. he loves to jump on a moving vehicle. 

so he’s inside this tented area on the back of the truck and finds a locked box with the faceless alien rebel inside!!!! but the truck is stopping; have they been caught??

OH!! the guy driving IS THE SHAPESHIFTER!!! and he’s coming to go get the faceless rebel. what is mulder to do???

alien bounty hunter is coming to get the rebel; he pops out the needle…. but something is afoot! everything is bathed in light and shaking!!! 

the faceless man is being lifted up… but mulder screams “noooooooo” and fires his gun??? THAT WAS VERY BLURRY AND CONFUSING!! what just happened!!!!

are we back to marita now?? yes, we are!!! she seems to be free of oil in her eyes!!!

meanwhile, mulder is being arrested, but the rebel alien isn’t there!!! WHERE DID HE GOOOO?!

the agents are going on a date to jail. he’s covered in sweat and he doesn’t know what happened while he was out there….. she grabs his hand…. so romantic

spender is arriving into skinner’s office. what is going on here? he shared there is no news about his mother. oh, mulder has opened a xx file on the case…

skinner clarifies that this has no effect on spender's position in the FBI. and mentions that he has a patron who thinks highly of him??? WHO??? no one knows??? someone with a high level of influence??? oh, that is concerning. 

IS IT HIS DAD???

when he walks out her gets a letter from quebec… and it’s in a red envelope!! the same as that kid was holding at the very start of the episode!!!!

up in quebec, that kid is delivering another letter to the mysterious cabin…. and the letter was returned.

IT’S CSM??????? 

I KNEW HE WASN’T DEAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

CSM has a son and a family he left…. omfg…. and he’s hiding out in CANADA???? 

THIS ANSWERED NO QUESTIONS. AND EVEN RAISED NEW ONES.

okay, after seeing the whole episode, here are my thoughts:

still losing it at krycek kissing mulder’s cheek. i just KNOW the slash girlies were losing their MINDS. as they had every right to do! i felt your joy across time and space.

so, the vaccine against the alien oil works! if we can simply inject every single person in the world, we should be able to put up a resistance fight!! and also we will need to get a lot of those green needles that kill the shapeshifting aliens. which probably also come from outer space. so we'll need a mass scale smuggling. no biggie. /s

what happened to the resistance fighter??? did he get out?? was he taken away by the evil colonist aliens?? 

and who bailed these two out!!!

is mulder back in his believer era?? he has to be!!! 

marita is alive… you have to stop the ratboy, queen. you need to lock in. idgaf if he’s the one who knows about the aliens. wait until the alien stuff is sorted out and then stab him. for me. train hard to complete the task you have been assigned.

CSM HAD A FAMILY!!! HOLY HELL, LET’S CIRCLE BACK TO THAT SHALL WE?? and he left them!!! but he kept writing letters!! that is CRAZY!!!

rip my boy dmitri :(

i watched this episode 3 days ago and there is still SO much to process. it might take a long time. typical jam-packed sort of episode. is this what we refer to as the "myth arc"? because it establishes the mythology and main plot? am i using this term correctly? please do share. and also please tell me if the following things gagged you:

CSM alive reveal, CSM family reveal, alien rebel reveal, marita knowing krycek reveal, krycek smooching mulder reveal, scully screaming under hypnosis, mulder gently brushing her hair out of her face, etc etc. thank you very much.

[buttered-milky]

https://youtu.be/XqXZ0tJppok?si=kF5httv3agxyOzqe

Messmer can actually turns into a snake it's his original form, and he looks soo abused and neglected maybe because of the seal?

Eeeee okay so. The summon he uses a: appears to have more blood and/or burn wounds on it. and b: otherwise has most of its scales and doesn’t have the transparency effect I thought it had like the winged serpents!! Also there’s a bunch of eyeballs all over the place but we’ll get to those later.

Burn wounds are pretty straightforward and also interesting since they imply either the serpent fucked around and found out (Messmer burned it) or the serpent fucked around and found out (burned itself like an idiot, not surprising in the slightest for snakes since they miss prey strikes all the time and are, in my humble snake owner opinion, some of the dumbest creatures you’ll ever meet. Curious yes. But also. Idiots)

The snake Messmer turns into has much deeper wounds and scarring on it than just the summon of the abyssal serpent. This snake also appears to have a blind right eye (note for any reptile keepers who care: not the temporary blindness that comes with shedding). Its body is very misshapen and there are scales trying to protrude along the spine, and in several places where there don’t appear to be any wounds the scales are just…missing. This is as expected not good for snakes! They need those scales! I am honestly not quite sure how to interpret the overlapping layers of scales in some places. Like sometimes it looks like a shedding issue but also it seems like it’s the attempts of two souls trying to occupy one body? Also missing shed transparency effect! Idk what the hell was going on in my brain or if it was just lighting but I was sooooo fucking sure of the shed buildup. I was also really tired though and don’t care. The visual read was still fun. It can be a headcanon to me <3

So on those thoughts of it being two souls trying to occupy one body. What strikes me about this design is that some of the wounds look like bite scarring you’d see from live prey fighting your snake back. Again, this is a thing entirely avoidable with good husbandry (don’t live feed unless absolutely necessary). The scales to me still imply shedding has gone very wrong at some point. You’d expect to see shedding heal and scar over these wounds, but they’re all fresh. Very symbolic. You can’t heal violence by just pretending it doesn’t exist.

Ideally when a snake is wounded, you do routine care to help them with sheds and make sure the wound is clean. The scales will grow back and the wound will scar, but it will take several sheds and consistent work! You cannot, as Marika tried to do, just put a bandaid on it. You also can’t just lock a snake in a cage it will hurt itself trying to get out of (ie messmer himself) and expect that to go even remotely well.

Some of this feels like visual symbolism of self-hatred. Like I said, the base serpent looks like it’s gotten in a fight. With its host. Some of it also feels like visible neglect (ie the wounds not being healed, missing scales)

I’m gonna discuss the eyeballs bc I fuck w them immensely. First of all congrats Messmer on having an Eldritch Horror in ur body. Second of all, all these eyes appear to have lids. Actual snakes don’t. They have hard eye caps instead and cannot blink. Some of the eyes seem like they might not be able to blink, but the scales around them are still more closed than you’d expect? I fuck with it. Fits with Messmer’s blindness motif which maybe I’ll make a post on eventually. But in regards to the base serpent specifically, of course violence can afford to close its eyes and be blind to who it chooses to hurt. Violence is also something that, when committed, always seems to haunt you. Its gaze will always be there.

It’s interesting that Marika replaced Messmer’s eye to seal the serpent off, and so maybe it grew more eyes? That could be why the scales around them aren’t correct—they’re trying to protrude from the body. This occurs in both the summon and the physical snake form Messmer has. Repression of identity = Eldritch horrors? Sure I’ll take that fromsoft.

Final thing on the eyes. They’re red, not green. The winged serpents have green eyes, Elden Ring’s color of endurance. Super fitting! The abyssal serpent’s eyes are all red, the color of rot and death in this game. Red to me also feels primordial given its use in lightning by the dragons, but I digress. It’s pretty obvious why a base serpent would have base powers. This thing is old as fuck.

Okay. I’m sure you all thought the post was done but one last note on snake biology! So, snakes’ tongues retract into their mouth. When a snake opens their mouth you won’t see a forked tongue just curled up, hanging out. It’s in a little pocket for safe keeping :)

Neither of the base serpent’s forms appear to have the anatomy for this, since there are eyeballs replacing this anatomy. This is problematic for Messmer in a snake form specifically since he’s blind, and real snakes compensate for shitty vision by having an incredibly strong sense of smell. Messmer’s snake form also doesn’t have the heat pits that the abyssal serpent has. Heat pits are another part of snake anatomy, usually located below the nostrils, and are what they use to “see” heat and locate prey. In pythons (like the winged serpents) you’ll see multiple heat pits all in a row above the lip as opposed to the single very deep pit behind and below the nostrils in vipers. This single pit is what the base serpent (summon) has. Neither Messmer’s base serpent form nor his winged serpents have heat pits which is…interesting. It could be a modeling error but I don’t think so given base serpent has very clear heat pits.

My point is, Messmer is somehow even more blind than you’d expect from a snake. Maybe this makes sense given Messmer carries an internal fire, which would likely fuck with infrared? Still interesting nonetheless.

In summary: The base serpent alone (summon) seems overall in better shape than its other form (transformation). I think this is pretty straightforward symbolism—as a being on its own the serpent would probably be fine. It’s just that it uses Messmer as a host and this causes issues. Fuck around and find out I guess, base serpent.

And holy shit Messmer Cannot fucking see. Good luck with the seeing eye snakes babe because snakes notoriously have shit vision !

(Also just an aside both of the base serpent forms kind of have narrower faces than you’d see on a real snake? Like they’re more eel like to me. Anyways.)

[gay-for-the-snz]

Baggage (M, cold, pt. 3/3)

Sorry this one's short as fuck compared to the other two, but it wound down to a spot I felt really put a nice little cap on things, so I let it end where it wanted to end. Our poor little meowmeow's origin story of sorts has come to a close, but I'll probably pull some other key moments from prior to current day that I wanna explore, so keep an eyeball out for things in the future!

[part 1, part 2, part 3]

⁂

Christ alive. The rain is pouring so hard, it's difficult to see the road ahead of them completely. They're all crawling along the highway, and it's the one of few times in his life that he doesn't actually disagree with going under the speed limit. He has to get this kid home and warmed up. He CANNOT call Bill tomorrow and tell him that he gave him pneumonia and let him die, because he just wanted to buy some damn groceries. The poor bastard is shivering so hard he can hear his teeth chattering.

"Well! Welcome to the west coast. Remind you of back home yet?"

He swipes at his nose with his soaked sleeve, shivering like he's about to freeze into a block of ice. "A little."

"It doesn't usually start like this with such little warning, but it'll probably be going for hours now that it has." He can feel the water running down his face, down the back of his neck, but he's more aware of the kid next to him.

His hair, so long that the braid is laying on the seat behind him, has the water running down him like it's still raining in the truck. He looks like a drowned rat, everything not pulled back into the braid clinging awkwardly to his face and neck, the same way his clothes all stick to him like a second skin still in the process of being molted.

"Captain," he starts, but he's cut off by his own body. A raindrop slips down the freckled bridge of his nose, glides along the rim of one quivering nostril, and disappears with a sharp sniffle--that's immediately undone. "haH'DDZZHhyue! EZZHhuue! hh'DZzhhue!"

He has the courtesy to at least try and turn away from him, angling his body towards him to keep the bags as far from the spray as he can, but there's little he can do to cover when his arms are encumbered by the stuff they did all of this for in the first place. He's never been a squeamish man, seen and done things that would put most off of their lunch, but even he finds it difficult to watch just how desperately contagious he is.

And he doesn't blame him! If anything, it makes him pity the whelp all the more, but he is a walking biohazard like this. "Bless you. You said you aren't sick like this often?"

He looks dazed in the aftermath of it, scrubbing at his nose with his sleeve in lieu of anything else to tend to it with. He can hear the distinct click of wet congestion being shifted as he moves his nose side to side. "Uhmb--" The throat clear doesn't really do anything to give him his consonants back, nor do the several attempted sniffles that sound like he's up against a brick wall, or perhaps a flood. Color rushes to his cheeks at the cringe inducing sound of blowing his nose to try and relieve him of some of the burden of this cold. "Not really."

"Hm." Part of him believes it, looking at how unprepared and caught off guard he seems by the whole shebang, but it's also difficult to think that any creature who's come down with something like this for a cold is someone who isn't predisposed to this sort of thing. He doesn't press the matter any further, though, just tactfully lets it lie. "Quite the welcome to your new life, then."

"It's not the one I expected, that's for sure." He still looks like he needs to sneeze. The soft flare of red-raw nostrils. The tears clinging to thick, dark lashes like he's straight out of a photo of a waifish, consumptive pretty boy from days of yore. The persistent, ineffective sniffling. He looks so utterly cold-ridden that perhaps he just assumes he needs to sneeze, simply because he can't imagine a second passes with a cold like this where he doesn't.

"Alright, come on then." He pries several bags from hands that put up only token resistance, unwilling to commit to actually withholding them from him, but making the show of not wanting to. "You go straight into the bathroom and into the shower, and I'm not going to hear any argument about it."

"But--"

"I said I'm not hearing any arguments. No ifs, ands, or buts about it."

"But Captain--"

He pushes at his back with the head of the cane like a herding dog nipping at the heels of its flock. "Go on, move."

"I'm moving, I'm moving!" He startles, but heeds the direction, if only because he isn't really giving him a choice in the matter.

"If I don't hear that shower start in the next few minutes, I'll wrestle you into it myself. Go get your pajamas and wash up." Truthfully, he wishes he was in the shower warming up, but it would be heartless to make the poor beast wait for him when he's shivering so hard he looks like he's going to shake apart at the seams.

He can see how badly he wants to protest. It's written into every inch of him, the conflict between the desire to gratefully accept the offer and the deep-seated need to argue and insist he couldn't possibly think of it. He finally sighs, hangs his head, and starts to disrobe somewhat, kicking off his boots, peeling off the sweatshirt and socks that are ruining his carpeting in this precise moment.

"I'm going! I was just sitting down for a second, I'm going!" Elliott nearly yelps and jogs to the bathroom when he leans menacingly into the doorway to the guest room a few minutes later, and he hears the bathroom door nearly slam behind him, followed quickly by the water running.

He raps on the weathered wood, shouts through it to him. "I better not see you for at least twenty minutes!" His water bill won't be pleased, but he'd rather pay a high water bill than a high hospital bill any day.

The old wood stove isn't a perfect source of heat, but it does plenty for his needs. He feeds it another log, and hangs up the clothes they've both shed to start drying out. He'll throw them in the actual dryer later to finish out, but it would be a waste to run a whole load for just two outfits. He'll throw a load in the wash to pair them with later, let these do their thing in the meantime.

The sound of sneezing is audible from the shower, the sound so miserable that it makes his heart ache a little. He really does feel bad about the fact that this is how he's having to start a new life--in a stranger's house, preparing for work in the morning, when he's got a monster of a cold and a black eye and enough emotional baggage it would take more than the one plane to bring it all, but so little physical baggage that everything he owns and considered worth bringing fit into two suitcases.

He stops counting at a dozen sneezes in as many minutes, each one just as harsh and contagious as the last, and decides to go get himself changed into something dry before he's sounding the same way. Not that he truly expects to avoid catching this off him, but it'd be better to make it put up a fight than to just roll over and accept it.

He's made chicken soup a million times before, but this is just...soup. No chicken. He isn't sure what to throw in to give it any more real substance than this. It looks laughably inadequate with just chunks of carrot and celery in it. He finally throws a bag of noodles into it, even if he's not the biggest noodle fan, simply so it has something else in it.

He glances towards the pantry, then back towards the sound of the shower, and grabs a can of diced chiles, dumping them into the broth and stirring it together. It smells good, at least, and it's got the right texture, so he doubts his ailing stray will take too much offense to it. What he doesn't know until he takes a bite won't hurt him, and something makes him highly doubt that he's much of a spice guy, but he sounds like he could use it.

The kid himself makes an appearance in the kitchen a few minutes later, a towel wrapped around his hair like a turban and a blanket wrapped around his body like a cloak. He looks ridiculous, but he's sniffling, thick and persistent, in a way that makes it sound like none of the congestion was loosened by the steam.

He swipes at his nose with a crumpled wad of toilet paper, and looks at him tiredly. "I can take over if you want to shower."

He does want to shower. Unfortunately, he can already envision him garnishing the soup with his cold while he's stirring it. "No thank you."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure. Are you feeling warmer?"

"Yeah. I tried to be quick, but it felt so good to finally feel warm again. I was so cold all day."

"You never complained about it?"

He looks sheepish. "Wasn't really worth complaining over." He must see the expression on his face shift, because he quickly adds, "nothing I could do about it, and not a big deal."

He's going to strangle him, maybe. "I'm asking you to complain if you need something changed."

"Oh, it's not a big deal--"

"Fine. I'm ordering you to complain. As your boss, you are now commanded to complain as part of your job. If I don't hear you tell me you want something, it'll be a demerit in your record."

He blanches in response, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape. "I don't--you're n--you're not serious?"

"Serious as a heart attack. I expect to hear you complain, long and loud, or you'll be in trouble. If you won't ask for what you need on your own, I'm going to force you to, starting now. Go."

"But--"

"Go."

"A blanket!" He recoils slightly, trying to back away from his own request, to soften the edges of a need into something more gentle and palatable. "I c--I could use another blanket on the guest bed! I run cold and another blanket would be nice!"

"There. Was that so hard?" Apparently it was, because he looks like he's about to change his name and leave the country. "Come sit down, dinner's almost done. It's just simmering."

It probably needs longer, but he's not losing the opportunity to try and move this along, nor is he keen on making this a later night than it has to be. He's hoping to get some sleep tonight, unlike last night.

They both take their seats, and Elliott just moves chunks of carrot around with his spoon in his bowl.

"Doesn't look appetizing?"

"No! No, it looks fine. I'm just, uh, tired. Thinking about turning in for the night, maybe."

"I haven't seen you eat anything since a bowl of cereal this morning."

"Er--well, yeah."

"At least eat something before bed. I can't pack up this much soup into the fridge."

"Right."

They eat in silence, save for the sound of sipping broth and the ever present sniffling from Elliott. Sniffling which is growing steadily more liquid as he eats. Perhaps the chiles really are doing something for him, here. He keeps using the same ratty wad of toilet paper he walked out of the bathroom with, and he finally just leans back to grab him a paper towel off the roll to replace it. "Here."

"Oh! Thank you." He immediately puts it to use stemming the time of a nose that's now incessantly dripping.

"Are you..." He lets the question die on his tongue, because it's clear that Elliott isn't listening to him.

He's slowly drawing back from the table, the paper towel clutched like a lifeline as his breath snags and brows knit together in preparation. He notices for the first time that he's got a gap between his front teeth; small, but present enough he wonders if he's considered braces to correct it. The gasp is much more dramatic than either of them seemed to expect, because even Elliott looks somewhat surprised by it.

"hADT'DDZZHhue! haHDZZHhyue! hh...hH-!? hYIZZHhieww! iIDDSSHh! yiDSSHhue!" The dam has broken, and his nose is dripping so furiously that he's soaked through the measly paper towel already.

He tears off a handful of them to put the lad out of his misery. "Bless you!" The chiles have done their job, clearly, because the wall of congestion has become a tidal wave. Even the sound is audibly wetter, looser in its quality. "You gonna make it?"

He shakes his head vehemently, eyes still squeezed shut as his breath scissors once again. "hiH-! eISSHh'uh! yISSHhhue! hh! h-hiH--!? ...guh! Oh my God." He blows his nose miserably, grimacing at the sound. "I might die."

He just may, by the looks of him. "You can't die, at least for awhile yet. I don't wanna have to call Bill and tell him I killed you with a pot of soup."

"You can tell him I sneezed so much I suffocated." The circle of pansies on his wrist are on full display from beneath the cuff of his sweatshirt as he rests his cheek in his palm, and for a brief moment he can see that this kid is going to be catnip to the local gays. That sort of feminine charm, rather than the more rugged masculinity he would typically expect.

"I'd think your cause of death was actually drowning, by that sniffling." The whole roll makes its way onto the table, and several immediately make their way into his hands to replace what have already been destroyed.

"I might agree with that." He slides his bowl back and stands up. "Have you got cling wrap? I might, uhm, be done for the night."

"I'll put it in the fridge for you. Get some rest."

He watches him go, and sighs once he disappears into the bedroom. He's hopeful that tonight will be a little smoother than the last.

⁂

It's not.

He's laying in bed, staring at the ceiling and listening to the symphony of sickness coming from the guest room. He's spent the last two hours either coughing, sneezing, or creaking the bed in a way he imagines he must be rolling like a gator. The bedroom door across the hall opens, and he hears footsteps trail into the living room, and then to sitting on the sofa.

He is going to strangle this kid, maybe. He doesn't want to make him feel bad for it, because he's already a nervous enough beast as it is, but he's going to lose his mind if he doesn't get to sleep soon.

He walks out of the living room, feigns going into the kitchen for water for an excuse to go do something without it being quite so obvious what he's doing. Elliott looks up in surprise to see him, curled up awkwardly on the sofa in his blankets.

"Good morning, Captain?"

"Not sleeping?"

"No, I'm awake for now. I, uh, don't usually sleep well. I try to keep quiet--did I wake you?"

"No." It isn't technically a lie. To wake him would necessitate that he had fallen asleep already. "I just came to get some water. Do you need anything?"

"No, I think I might, uh, just sit here for a little while. Keep to myself. Your bed is really nice, but I'm just kinda--I'm just--I don't know if I'm really gonna get much sleep, and it might be easier to sit up than to be laying down." He looks like hell, gingerly rubbing at his bad eye tiredly. "Would it bother you if I turned the TV on quietly?"

It's very difficult to be mad at him when he is the most pathetic creature on the planet. "Of course not. I'm going back to bed. Come wake me if you need anything."

"Yes, sir."

He doubts that he will. What he's gleaned of this kid so far, he's polite to a fault. He would rather have teeth pulled than be a nuisance, even if that makes him more of one because of it. It hasn't left his mind since he told him at the store yesterday that he hasn't had any parents since he was seven. Who raised him after that, he isn't sure. Hopefully not whatever family he tussled with at the courthouse.

He chews on the inside of his cheek as he rolls back under his blankets. He doubts he wants to discuss it, but he also wants to know what the story is there. There's too many unanswered questions to feel like he has any idea of who's in his house right now. Not that he takes him as dangerous--if anything, he seems like someone who would be tangled up in something against his will, not because he's taken on something out of malice--but there is almost no information to try and fill in any blanks on him.

Most of what he knows is that he hasn't got parents, somebody socked him a good one, and he can catch one hell of a cold. The sounds of it drift from the living room, muffled into the quietest state he thinks he can probably manage to get them. Some peaceful music mingles with it--not a fan of anything exciting for TV then, he takes it.

Fuck.

He gets back up, immediately walks back out to the living room. Elliott startles at the sight of him, and immediately drops the volume so low he can barely hear it. "Captain! Sorry, I thought it was quiet enough."

"You didn't get me up. Listen, and you listen to me well, y'hear?" He waits until he nods, somewhat frantically, those green eyes wide with panic. "I won't promise that whatever life you have here is going to be a perfect one--it's not, and I'm not the kind to sugarcoat things--but I will say that it's going to be better than whatever you left in Virginia. But."

"But?"

"But, you've got to let it be good."

"I don't--"

"You've got to be whatever mess you're going to be. It's fine! It's fine! We're all a mess, I swear it! You just learn to make it work more when you get older and have more experience being a mess! You're never going to get anywhere good if you spend all your time trying not to be a bother to anyone else."

The shivering, cold-ridden blanket cocoon on the couch is silent in response. He can see the wet sheen of his eyes reflecting the light from the TV more vividly. He stands up so suddenly it takes him a little aback to see him shoot up to his full height, but he has little time to be surprised before he finds the gangly beast has thrown his arms around him in a hug.

He awkwardly pats his back as he sobs. "Alright. I know, it's alright." He can't recall the last time he's held someone as they cried. Perhaps it was while he was still married? It feels like too long of a time, but there's such little occasion for it to happen to him, it may well have been the twenty or so years since they parted ways.

He can hear the congestion seeping into the sound of it, adding a ragged edge to the already strained inhales that abruptly to a fit of coughing that sees him awkwardly disentangling himself to push away enough that he can smother it into his elbow as best he can.

"Come on." He takes him by his free wrist, gives him a little tug until he complies, and turns off the TV so he can lead his still coughing charge back towards the bedroom with a hand on his back.

He's a snuffling, teary mess when he wriggles underneath the blankets, curled up securely in a veritable nest of them. "Theeeere we go, alright. Just get some sleep, now."

"Captain?"

"Mm?"

The multitude of what he wishes to express isn't lost on him, even if all he manages is a thin, somewhat choked up, "thank you."

He gives him one little squeeze on the shoulder in an attempt to return the sentiment. "Don't mention it."

He retires to his own bedroom, and leaves him to try and snatch whatever rest he can muster up before morning.

[strongheartneteyam]

I wish I could

Pairing: Neteyam Sully x female!curvy!human reader

CW: angst, risky pregnancy issues, fluff, fingering, masturbating (female receiving), breeding kink, pregnancy kink, size kink, exophilia (extraterrestrial kink), monsterfucker

GUYS I'M SO SORRY I TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE THIS FIC some of you already know why but to the ones who dont: my life became so chaotic, all of a sudden, that I could barely log in here. I literally spent days without logging on tumblr. I had zero time and was always exhausted. But now my life is back at the tracks (thank you God 😭) - even though it's still pretty hectic - so I was able to find time and energy to write this chapter. Hope u like it 😘👀

Not fully proofread 🤡

Chapter 7

♡

You woke up in pure bliss. Many moons had passed now, your belly had gotten even bigger, your baby had grown. You're living two dreams at once. You were a mother and mated with the one person you've always loved. The owner of your every thought and your every girl-in-love-kind-of-sigh ever since you remember. You were carrying his child inside of you, you would often feel the little baby you both created together kicking your ribs. It brought tears to your eyes. You still don't know how it came to be, how a fully hybrid baby could actually be conceived. You know very well how Neteyam and you *created* the baby, but you have no idea how you actually were able to get pregnant. If it makes any sense. You laugh to yourself.

Things had been a little hard given that your pregnancy was a risky one (interspecies relationship things...) but if you don't count the fact you were feeling so fatigued, heavy and having a bit of trouble breathing from time to time, you had been great. Nothing too much, nothing that made your life quality decrease.

You stretched yourself and got up from your mat, walking towards the space inside your home where you and Neteyam kept the food, water, cooking utensils and such, as you were dying to eat breakfast. This pregnancy was making you so hungry most of the time. It's no surprise. You're carrying a half na'vi child in your human womb. Your fragile body needed way more nutrients than the usual.

You stopped for a second and look through the entrance of your house. You smiled at the view of the Pandoran nature out there, the birds singing, the green grass, the heavy tree branches. It filled your heart with a comforting, wholesome feeling you can't even put to words.

Everything seemed so perfect. Too perfect, actually...

You were eating a piece of the meat Neteyam had hunt for the both of you at dawn, just before he went to train with Jake. You had cooked it with some herbs and a little salt, that you would always ask some human acquaintances to bring to you from the lab, when you felt a horrible, almost unbearable feeling in your belly. "Ma Eywa, what is this?" You asked yourself, heartache and anxiety covering you. "Please Great Mother, don't let anything happen to my baby. Please." You were in the verge of tears when you started to feel weak and dizzy. Everything around you looked weird and distant. Finally, you were unconscious on the floor. Thank Eywa you were sitting, not standing. The fall would have been way worse.

➳

You opened your eyes and sunlight was scorching your eyeballs. It came from the door. You were still at your home with Neytiri and Dr Evelyn looking at you, one at each side of your aching body, while you were laying down in your mat. Neytiri was the Tsahìk and Dr Evelyn was taking care of you as a medical professional since you first found out you were pregnant.

"What happened?" You ask, head aching and confused

"Oh, thank you, Great Mother!" Neytiri exclaimed "You passed out, my dear. Kiri found you laying on the floor unconscious when she went to visit you to bring you some fruits and herbs she had collected this morning."

"I was so worried, (y/n). I was afraid something very bad would happen to you or the baby. Or both of you." Kiri had tears in her big eyes and her pretty face was still recovering from the shock. Seeing that made you feel a stab in your chest. She really, really cared about you and your baby. And of course, it was her brother's baby too. She was now not only your best friend but also your sister-in-law.

"Is everything okay with my baby?" You asked, fear taking over you

"We've checked how she's doing through an ultrasound and yes, she's okay." Dr Evelyn says in a calming voice

"...She?" You ask

"Yes, it's a girl." Neytiri says, smiling at you. "You and Neteyam will give us a babygirl as a grandchild." She was smiling, referring to herself and Jake, such an honest feeling of pure happiness could be seen in the na'vi woman's yellow eyes

You smiled, your eyes gleaming with tears. You were gonna have a babygirl. You were gonna give Neteyam a little daughter.

"And there's something that we wanna tell you. Your baby looks really different as she is a hybrid. She has mixed features in her face, na'vi and human. Her nose is like Neteyam's nose and so are her eyes, but the rest of her face is more human like. She also has long slender legs, like her father. But she's still a little smaller than common na'vi babies. She has four fingers and no stripes. And she has a queue. She will be able to make tsaheylu." Dr Evelyn said, smiling

"That's... incredible. My babygirl... She will be so beautiful... She seems to be more na'vi than human, though." You laugh a bit, imagining your daughter's cute little braid and her small tendrils. "But you guys did not tell me what happened. I mean, why did I pass out? I remember feeling a terrible pain in my belly. But the baby is okay, I didn't lose her, thank Eywa. But what was happening to my body?"

Neytiri started to say: "My son is na'vi, even though he has human blood in his veins too. As he impregnated you, his na'vi DNA helped form your placenta." You felt your face burn as your mother-in-law was saying that. She was just nonchalantly saying that her son impregnated you. You didn't know if you were just too shy, if the na'vi had a way more chill perspective about these things, even more than you already were aware of, or if it was because you were the one in the spotlight right now, but you were blushing a lot, your cheeks so rosy. "Your body did not know how to react to that, as you're human. Your placenta is being seen by your body as an invasive substance, to sum it up, because of Neteyam's DNA being so different from yours. So, your belly started to hurt. But Dr Evelyn and I have already taken care of this. You don't have to worry, darling. I prayed to Eywa. I performed a healing ritual on you. You'll be fine, Ma (y/n)."

"I gave you an injection that eased your pain until it went away and eventually you woke up. You're gonna take one of these shots everytime you start feeling pain in your belly, okay? We think it will happen a few more times. Take it as soon as the pain starts. The sooner, the less risky for you and the baby. It contains chemicals and Pandoran herbs that will help your body slowly understand that it's okay for your baby's placenta to be inside you and it will also help you feel less pain." Dr Evelyn advised, holding a small glass tube in her hand filled with a greenish liquid.

Suddenly, you heard heavy hard footsteps approaching. You breathed in relief when you saw it was Neteyam. His dark braids dancing in the air as he approached the entrance of the house he built for the both of you and your child.

"Neteyam!" You exclaimed

"Yawne..." he said, looking at you with loving eyes "Are you alright? Is our baby alright?" He sounded so worried "Lo'ak reached me and told me about what happened. I came as fast as I could but, you know, the forest is very big."

He walked towards you and when he got to where you were laying, he sat on his heels.

"Yes, our baby is alright. I'm okay too. And we're expecting a girl, by the way." You looked at him smiling wide, chest filled with a genuine feeling of joy and almost euphoria

"I give you my gratitude, Great Mother." Neteyam said a prayer to Eywa, smiling in relief "I can't believe it! We're gonna have a little girl." Tears of happiness were streaming down his beautiful face, running through his dark blue stripes

Everyone in the room looked at you and Neteyam smiling. Neytiri looked in a motherly way to the both of you, her fangs showing as she smiled. Kiri was smiling widely, her brows furrowed. Dr Evelyn was smiling but showing no teeth. Every person there looked happy for you two, na'vi, human or mixed.

But nobody was happier than Neteyam and you. He kissed your forehead while putting his big hand on your pregnant bump. You felt your girl kick, a pain coming through your ribcage. Neteyam felt it too. "She kicked. Our babygirl just kicked, my yawnetu. I felt her little kick." Neteyam smiled in awe, looking at you as you smiled back at him, your heart beating fast

Neteyam looked at his mother. They smiled at each other and she put her hand on his shoulder, then, looked at your belly, in an affectionate way

"Oh, my Eywa. I'm starting to really love the idea of becoming an aunt." Kiri said, still sitting a little further from everybody "Damn, so many tears in only one place." The Omatikaya young girl said, chuckling, as she sniffed because she never stopped crying since she found you needing her help. Thank Eywa her tears were now tears of delight

A big wholesome laugh could be heard in the room after Kiri said that, coming from everyone's throat.

➳

After everyone had left, it was only you and Neteyam at your home. Jake had freed him from his Olo'eyktan training for some hours so he could stay with you after what had happened. He would only go back later in the afternoon.

"Oh, yawntutsyìp... I thought I had lost you and our baby." Neteyam said, holding your face with both his huge hands

You put your hand over his, rubbed your face on his palm and then kissed it. "You always act so tenderly towards me, my love. You're my everything. And I love the way you care so deeply for our child. I can feel your love for her pouring out of you. You're so amazing." He smiled and leaned in for a kiss, which you were already planning on giving him

Your lips touched and he held your waist tightly. Both big hands on each side of your body. You felt a shiver coming down your spine. He kept kissing you, slowly but passionately. His velvety lips so warm, wetting your lips with his saliva, setting your whole body on fire as he gave you many pecks but then slid his tongue inside your mouth, breathing deep through his nose, making you moan for him. "I wanted to die just thinking about losing my mate and my child. I'm thankful you're here. I'm so thankful our baby is still safe inside your womb." His hands moved from your waist to the sides of your belly. Neteyam kept kissing you, but, in a softer way now. "Your baby bump feels so good in my hands." He kissed your lower lip, suckling ever so slightly on it, your lip between his upper and his bottom lip.

"Teyam. Sit me down on your lap, please." You said, a knot forming in your belly

Neteyam gave you a small dirty smile and sat on the mat. He grabbed your hand and led you to sit on his lap.

"Like this, yawntutsyìp?" He asked, looking deeply into your eyes. His big amber eyes were so enchanting, so ethereal...

"Yes, my mate."

Neteyam opened your legs slowly, his hand traveling up your thigh while he kissed you. When his hand reached your pussy, moving your panties to the side, underneath your skirt, you whimpered at his lips. "What? You like this, my love? You like the way I caress your small body? Specially when my hand touches your little pussy?" He was looking at you, eyes so hungry for your body

"You get wet so easily now that you're pregnant. And your pussy feels even tighter." Neteyam says while two of his long four fingers explored your folds slowly. You moaned, biting your bottom lip. "So tight for me." He cooed. Neteyam's thumb reached your clitoris and he started to stimulate it, rubbing circles.

"Ahnnhh... feels so good, Teyam."

"Yeah, my yawntutsyìp?" You hum in confirmation "I love your little cunt. Love this swollen belly so much. Ahhh, baby... It makes me so hard. Do you wanna touch me and feel how hard I am for you?" Neteyam asks, breathing heavily

"Yes, Teyam. Please."

☆•.°☆•.°☆

Sorry for leaving you guys hot and bothered and cutting the smut in half like this 😂 please, don't hate me 🤡😇

Your feedback is always much appreciated 🤍🤍🤍

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