#but they are both kids who have had way too much pressure put on them and they just want to see theur dads' again

[lone-berry0]

I think I figured out why this line felt so familiar

[valerie-is-in-the-cupboard]

Birthday present - Alastor x fem!reader

Hello! It's my birthday today, and I wanted to share something sweet and on-theme. Just a heads-up, I’ve just finished writing it, so please excuse any mistakes. I hope you enjoy!

Words: ~2100 TW: mostly none, just some light swearing and some light mentions of sex

It wasn't usual for Alastor to forget important things. Important dates, appointments, details... They all had their special place in his head. In fact, his attention to detail was one of the things you admired most about him.

It struck you as odd when you woke up alone in the morning, the bedsheets on his side of the bed cold and undisturbed, a sign that he didn't bother to sleep last night.

You got out of bed, dragging your body across the room, to your bathroom. Your eyes fell on your reflection, taking in the faint bruises on your neck that Alastor loved to see - a simple, yet powerful reminder to anyone who would even think about approaching you that they should reconsider such a reckless act.

You wore a nice red gown, thinking that maybe it would make him consider giving you a small, special present... if he would've bothered to come to bed at all.

But you shrugged it off, knowing who you were dealing with and that his unpredictable behavior shouldn't bother you at this point.

You got dressed as you usually did - sliding into your clothes as your mind still wandered. Maybe he forgot... Maybe you weren't as important to him as you thought.

You shook off the feeling that came over you, deciding you would not let him destroy today. So, you made your way to the hotel lobby, ready to do anything, anything to take your mind off it.

A slight sense of anxiety came over you as you made your way there, but a sudden pressure on your leg stopped you in your tracks.

Niffty held tightly on your ankle, rubbing her face on your soft skin. You chuckled as you crouched down to her level. "Well, good morning to you too, Niff."

She grins and looks up at you with big eyes and a giddy smile. "Happy birthday!!!" she shouted happily, holding a necklace made of dead roaches and a few flowers. Your skin crawled a little at the sight, but you couldn't help but feel touched by her gesture.

"Aw, Niff! This is so... endearing!" you said as you watched her smile grow. "I love it!"

Her eyes sparkled, shining brighter than you'd ever seen before as she bounced up and down with excitement. "I got it just for you! And it's made from the finest roaches in all of Hell! And I even added some pretty flowers to make it all pretty!"

"It's wonderful, Niff. Thank you!" she put it around your neck, hugging you tightly.

"You're welcome, silly! I knew you'd love it! You love bugs just as much as I do!" She pulls away slightly and grabs both of your hands, swinging them back and forth like a child. You laugh awkwardly at her statement, not really knowing something farther from the truth, but you go along with it. You get up, and she follows you to the others.

Angel Dust walked into the lobby right as Nifty was giving you the roach necklace, giggling a little as his lips curled into a smile. "Wow, that's a mighty nice gift Nift. Really makes ya' sparkle," he chuckles, leaning against the wall casually. "Hey, today's your birthday, ain't it?"

"It is, yes," you said happily as he made his way to you, pulling you into a tight embrace.

"Happy birthday, babe." He held you like that for a few moments before pulling back slightly, a sly smirk returning to his face. "I have just the perfect gift for you," he said as he handed you a bag. You looked inside, your face suddenly blushing as you saw what it was.

"Angie!" you said smiling, your cheeks burning.

"Don't mention it, toots! Given how low Smiley's libido is, you might enjoy it!" he smirked, winking at you, earning a laugh out of you.

"It's ya birthday, kid?" you heard Husker ask, a small smile on his lips. "Here ya go then!" he said, handing you a bottle of booze as a gift, which you gladly accepted. "One of the finest you can find in this shithole."

"Aw, thank you, Husk!"

Pentious slithered into the lobby, his eyes roaming the room until they fell on you. A frown of confusion etched across his long face. Everyone was giving you gifts, and yet he had forgotten your special day. How uncharacteristic of him to forget.

He approached you, holding out a bouquet of flowers he probably snatched from one of the vases. A pang of embarrassment tugged at him as he watched the others congratulate you and give you gifts. Pentious cursed himself for letting such a detail slip past his usually sharp memory.

"Happy birthday, miss (Y/n)... I am so sorry but I truly forgot about your special day..."

Your smile softened at his words as you accepted the flowers. "They're beautiful, Pentious. Thank you!" you said, softly placing a hand on his shoulder.

Pentious's frown lessened ever so slightly at your kind words, a small sense of relief washing over him. You didn't seem angry or upset that he had forgotten your special day. He coiled slightly, seeming to relax as your touch soothed his initial tension. "I'm glad you like them, dear," he replied with a touch of embarrassment. "I know it's no excuse—but I truly didn't mean to forget." Suddenly, a determined look appeared on his face. "I will create the greatest invention for you, miss (Y/n)!" you chuckle at his words.

"Can't wait to see it!" you smile, as your eyes scan the room. "Where are the others?"

"Charlie and Vagina are solving some Heaven-related business. They might be out the whole day." Angel explained, but even as he spoke, your mind wandered to someone else—someone you were hoping would be here.

"And... Alastor?"

They exchanged looks, but Angel decided to speak. "We don't really know, toots..." he said, feeling a bit sad for you. "But hey, let's not let smiley bring ya down now!" he said wrapping an arm around you.

You looked at them as you realised they were right. It was your birthday and you really had some great people to spend it with, so there was no need to feel sad.

"Angel, call Cherri! We're gonna have some fun!" you announced, as everyone in the room lit up.

Angel, feeling your excitement, grins widely. "That's the spirit! We're gonna hit the club and get fuckin' wasted! Let's get this thing started!" He looks down at you, analyzing you for a moment. "But first, let's find you something that shows more of your tits, babe."

He took your hand, making his way towards your room as everyone began to prepare. Excitement filled you up with every step, the worries that flooded your mind just mere moments ago slowly disappearing.

This was supposed to be your day, after all.

You made your way to your room, stumbling a bit as you still laughed at a joke someone at the club said three hours ago. You were careful with how much you drank, feeling a bit responsible for everyone else, but you couldn't help but feel a bit tipsy too.

Your hand fell on the doorknob and as you opened, jazz music echoed in your ears as your eyes opened wide, your gaze meeting Alastor's. He stood in his armchair, a glass of whiskey in his hand. Normally, the sight of him like this, his coat thrown gracefully on a chair and his appearance slightly dishevelled would've made your mouth water. But today, you couldn't help but feel a bit mad at him.

He got up, slowly making his way to you as you closed the door behind. His expression became somewhat more clear in the dim light. You expected him to be angry, given how late it was. But... he felt somewhat relieved.

Your breath got stuck in your throat as his hand clawed at the thin straps of your dress, tugging it slightly. You knew he wasn't really a fan of you going out like this, but his face remained the same.

"I see you had some fun, my dear," he said, his voice calm and suave, making you relax a bit. His eyes fell on your cleavage, frowning a little at how much it showed. He let out a hum as his eyes fell on the bruises on our neck, his claw dragging across them gently, sending a shiver down your spine.

"I went out with the others," you said, not giving any more details, but given the smell of alcohol and smoke that came from you, it wasn't hard to guess.

He sighed, his eyes finally meeting yours, his claw gently caressing your neck, your heart skipping a beat at the gesture. "I can see that, my love..."

"How was your day?" you replied, a hint of annoyance in your voice. He chuckled, knowing exactly where you're going with it. You expected him to be mad, to act like he was the victim because he had to wait for you to return.

But what you didn't expect was his arms wrapping around you, gently pulling you to his chest. "I don't want you to believe I forgot, my dearest..." he whispered, his hand running through your hair ever so carefully as if you were a porcelain doll, ready to break at the slightest pressure. He pulled away a bit, looking down at you. "Our lovely princess decided today was the best day to give me a ton of chores to do..." he said and you could feel the frustration in his voice.

His grip on you tightened a bit, his smile becoming strained. "She said we'll make it up to you tomorrow, but you have no idea how much it annoys me that I had to spend this day away from you, my love...."

His face softened again as he crouched a bit, resting his forehead against yours. The touch of his hands sent shivers down your spine, his breath hot on your skin as he whispered. The room felt warm and intimate with him so close to you, and you found yourself unable to stay mad at him. His words washed over you, melting away your annoyance and replacing it with a sense of understanding.

"You should've told me..." you said softly, your voice laced with affection. But you couldn't help the warmth spreading in your chest. He was here now, and that's what mattered. You reached up to gently touch his face, bringing a small smile to his lips. He took the opportunity to place a kiss on your hand, his eyes still locked on yours.

"I thought I could make it back in time, but some demons I had to deal with did not... cooperate." he sighed, giving your hand a little squeeze. "But I still got something for you."

You watched as he made his way to the closet and your face lit up as he pulled out a beautiful black dress.

"Alastor, I-" you tried to say, but you were completely taken aback by the gesture.

"You like it? I came up with a design and Rosie helped me make it," he said, a hint of pride on his face, as he looked back at you. "Of course, it is not as... revealing as the one surely our effeminate fellow chose..."

"No, I-... I love it," you said and with a snap of his fingers, the dress replaced the one you were wearing, gracefully falling onto your body. The dress hugged your curves perfectly, and you couldn't help but admire how stunning you looked. Alastor’s eyes lingered on you, his smile widening in clear satisfaction with his choice.

"You look beautiful, my dear," he said, his voice dripping with affection. He walked closer to you again, his hands running over the fabric of the dress, feeling the silky material under his touch.

You smiled up at him, wrapping your hands around his neck. "Thank you, Alastor..."

His hands fell on your waist, his grip firm yet gentle as he pulled you closer to him. His smile widened at the feeling of your body against his, his touch soft and intimate as he rested his forehead against yours once more.

"Anything for you, my love," he whispered, his voice low and tender. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, taking in your scent, his lips leaving a trail of gentle kisses along your skin.

You stood like this for what felt like hours, slowly moving as jazz music delighted your ears. It wasn't usual for Alastor to forget important things. Important dates, appointments, details... They all had their special place in his head.

And you sure were someone very special to him.

Tags: @ratsematary @littlebluefishtail @n0tmentallystable

[greynatomy]

regret

leah williamson x reader

actually finished writing something! wooo! the poll i put out was a close one, but this pair ultimately won. thanks to all who voted.

i’ve decided to split this into two parts, so this isn’t the end peoples!

part 2

———

“Alright. Remember, when we get there—”

“—pretend that we’re still happily married. I know.” You say annoyed, getting out of the car.

“Hey, don’t be like that!” Leah gets out of the car, catching up to you.

“Be like what? I’m not the one who got us in this situation.”

“Can we just be civil? This is the last time we’ll go through this.”

“Piss off will you! We wouldn’t have to act civil if you kept your mouth to yourself. And you had the audacity to file for divorce.”

Before Leah could reply, the front door opens to reveal Amanda, Leah’s Mom.

“Oh, I’ve missed you girls so much!”

Putting up a smile on your face, you engulfed the woman in a hug.

“Missed you too Amanda.”

“Come in! Come in!”

“Oi! David how’ve you been pops?”

“Oh, I’ve been wonderful! Glad to have you here!” He pulls you into a hug.

“There’s my favorite sister!” You hear behind you, Jacob just coming down the stairs from his room.

“Come here you! It’s been a while, huh?”

“It has! You gotta visit me more often.” You tense a bit, but not enough for him to notice in your embrace, putting up a smile on your face.

“I’ll try to visit more.”

What you don’t see behind you is Leah watching your interactions with her family.

You’ve known each other young. You’ve both been dating since you were fifteen, marrying at nineteen, divorced at twenty-one.

Her family’s have welcomed you with open arms since the beginning. You were her first serious relationship. The only one of her girlfriends that her family loved. You’ve had your whole life basically planned out, Leah would become a footballer, you a doctor, marriage, kids, the dream basically.

Leah didn’t know the exact reason why she did what she did, but it happened and she couldn’t take it back. She knew this teammate of hers has liked her for a while and never told her off.

She woke up to an unfamiliar bed, an arm around her that certainly wasn’t you. She regretted it the moment she woke up, didn’t know how to tell you, but you found out before she could. Ashamed of herself, Leah filed for divorce.

———

Leah didn’t know what she was thinking divorcing you. She didn’t have the right to be the one to file as she was the one who fucked up. It was impulsive and shameful. It was the best option she could think of at the time.

Now here she was, five years later, at the Emirates training grounds, about to run for the first time since her ACL injury. She missed you so much during this time. Every time she was injured in any way, you were always by her side nursing her back to health. You were her support system, making her fall more in love with you. This time, without you by her side, she realized how much she took you for granted, how she didn’t show you enough love, betraying you in the worst way possible.

She’d already signed the divorce papers, pressuring you to do the same all while making you go to her family’s for a dinner pretending that nothing has changed between the two of you. It was when she finally saw your signature on the papers was when she realized how she’s lost you for good.

———

Getting back home after a family walk, Amanda spots a stack of papers on the kitchen counter, a folded paper on top, along with two rings. Curious, she opens it up and quickly skims through them, shock fills her body after she finished reading.

“Leah!” She yells for her daughter.

“Yeah, mum?” Leah walks into the kitchen to see her mom holding something up.

“What the hell is this?”

Leah being clueless, grabs the sheet, reading it herself.

Leah,

I’ve finally signed everything you’ve been wanting me to sign. I don’t know why I’ve put it off for so long even if I’m not the one at fault. Guess it’s just hard to let go of the one you love the most.

Don’t contact me. Don’t look for me. You’re free.

Yn

Leah couldn’t even respond to her mother. All the emotions she bottled up came at her all at once, breaking down in front of her family. Six years of relationship, one year of marriage over.

[spicyrottingbrains]

You know the argument where people are like buck and eddie are straight and they're best friends and nothing more and that we should healthy male friendships in media without ship etc. etc.?? Well forgetting about every argument i have against all of of this and IF we were to consider that they are nothing but best friends then you know what would still make the most sense in regards to their storylines (together and individual)??? Not shoving random love interests for them into the plot and instead having them actually be two best friends who just raise a kid together without the need for anything else. Because no matter if you ship buddie or not I don't think there is a universe or a person who can counteract the fact that Evan buckley and Edmundo Diaz are soulmates. Stop having buck look for love in these doomed relationships and stop having eddie go out with these random people just because others are pressuring him to. People can be happy without relationships and if buddie won't be canon in a romantic sense then it would make so much sense for them to be happy with their family, because you gotta agree Buckk, Eddie and Chris, they are a family. Those three will always be there for each other and they will always put each other first. Those two are soulmates in every sense and they'd do anything for each other. Christopher comes first for both of them but right next to Chris is their best friend and that will not change. Their little family (+extended firefam) will always come first and no love interest could ever change that. It makes no sense for them to ignore the person who has had their back through so much fucking pain and heartbreak for someone who just came along into their lives to become top priority. Hell they're miserable without each other as is evident in the lawsuit Arc, the eddie leaving Arc, etc ect. They've been through too much for that. The firefam is the family they need and have. And they have each other (in whatever way that may be). It's like Ravi (my baby I love him so much I need more of him in s7) said its about having each others backs. And that is the entire premise of buddie since the very beginning, having each others back through thick and thin through joy and heartbreak, to never stop fighting for their family, that is the very essence that both Buck and Eddie's characters were built on. I did not go through 5 seasons of "there is no one I trust more with my son more than you","no one will fight for my son harder than you", "you can have my back any day.....or you could have mine", "isn't that what love is....knowing you have each other back", "when you're at your worst and they're at their worst and you have every reason to give up and you still decide you want to try", "what are you afraid of" buck showing up at Eddie's during the lightning aftermath, buck crawling under a freaking firetruck to get to eddie, Christopher running to buck at any point of distress, and so many more times where those three have always been what they need for anyone to disregard the fact that the buckley-diaz family are meant to be.

Ok I'm done.

[theemporium]

[1.9k] sometimes it isn't easy being the fourth hughes' sibling. sometimes the pressure to compete with your brothers gets overwhelming. sometimes you just need a tall, hot swiss man to reassure you in the hidden crevices of a bar in jersey.

first nico fic completely influenced by @httplando

.

There was nobody in the world that was prouder of your brothers than you were. 

It took an insane amount of skill, talent and effort to even reach college level. To be scouted and sought after, to gain the attention of coaches in much higher leagues than the kids’ team in middle school. To play for a college, to gain the attraction of professional teams, to be drafted into the NHL. It was fucking insane for one brother to reach all those goals, let alone all three. 

But that was exactly what Quinn, Jack and Luke had done. 

All three of them shared a dream and all three of them have achieved it. And you genuinely could not be happier for them. You saw everything behind the scenes. You saw the work they put into it, the countless hours of training and practicing to hone that raw talent into pure skill. You know exactly what each of them sacrificed to achieve their goal of playing for the NHL. 

And yet, despite how genuinely happy and proud you were, it fucking sucked to be their sister because everything you did felt inadequate in comparison. 

Nobody in your family ever consciously went out of their way to make you feel that way. Never in a million fucking years would they ever pull something like that. But it didn’t mean that you didn’t have these feelings, that you didn’t feel that pit of bitterness and something equally as ugly and self-deprecating burning inside you whenever your parents would gush over your brothers. 

“My boys,” Ellen cooed, reaching to place her hand on Quinn’s cheek, considering he was the closest to her. “You all played so well.”

Quinn let out a small scoff. “Yeah right.”

“Hey, just because you didn’t win, doesn’t mean you didn’t play well,” Jim had retorted with a light nudge of his shoulder. 

“Couldn’t beat us this time, captain,” Jack commented, a wolfish grin on his face as he gave his older brother a mock salute that made Luke snort. 

Quinn’s eyes narrowed, but there was a smile on his face. “Next time I’ll get your asses.” 

Luke grinned. “Sure, whatever helps you sleep at night.”

“Regardless of who won,” Ellen spoke up, a reprimanding look on her face that managed to shut the three of them up in seconds. “I’m proud of all three of my boys, living their dream and being the damn best in the league.” 

“To the Hughes boys!” Jim jokingly toasted, lifting his glass in the air and the rest of you joined and clinked your drinks together. 

And you know. God, you fucking know that none of it was a personal jab towards you in any way, shape or form. But it was hard to fucking deny the sting you felt as your parents gushed over your brothers. It hurt when you realised there wasn’t really much to gush over when it came to you.

You had made up some shitty excuse about needing to pee when you felt the tightness in your chest. You hadn’t given any of them a chance to be concerned about your abrupt departure. You didn’t even utter a single word as you pushed your way through the crowd of the bar, the establishment heaving with members and fans from both teams. You didn’t even glance at the girl who swore at you when you barged your shoulder against her a little harsher than intended as you pushed past the toilets and into a small alcove instead.

All you could focus on was the band wrapped around your chest, getting tighter and tighter with each breath. All you could focus on was the way your lash line welled with tears that would ultimately make your mascara run. All you could focus on was the thoughts rushing through your head, far too fast for you to even fully keep up. 

All you could focus on was the fact you really weren’t okay. 

You didn’t even look up when you heard a door swing open from one of the bathrooms. You didn’t look up when you heard footsteps. You didn’t look up—or even realise—there was someone standing a few metres away until you heard a familiar voice. 

“Hey, are you okay there?”

And despite the whirling thoughts and panicked breaths, you knew exactly who that voice belonged to. And when you finally lifted your head, the shield of hair finally exposing you to the person, you could see the exact moment Nico Hischier realised it was you. 

And it took a few seconds to realise just what a state you were in. 

You felt your cheeks prickle in embarrassment. You could feel the way your entire face heated up and your stomach dropped a little at the fact Nico of all people—your brothers’ captain and the man you thought about in ways that you never should—was seeing you like this. 

“Woah, hey,” he muttered out, a frown curved onto his lips as he quickly closed the distance between you two. 

And he was overwhelming. So fucking overwhelming in a way that had your head spinning for so many different reasons. It should have felt suffocating when he squished into the small alcove of the hallway with you, especially someone of his height and build.

But it wasn’t. 

It was almost comforting, or maybe that was just how Nico was. You had seen it plenty of times with his teammates, the way he wrapped his arm around them the second they were targeted on the ice or being chirped at by the rivalling team. You watched the way he would calm them down, hold his ground, keep everything in control. 

Maybe that’s what made him such a good captain. 

“I-I’m sorry,” you managed to blubber out, a sad excuse for a laugh escaping your lips as you tried to pretend your lungs weren’t burning for some air. “I’m okay!”

But he didn’t look convinced. 

“Is this okay?” His voice was soothing, calming almost. 

You blinked, taking a few seconds to realise he had lifted his hands from his sides and another few seconds to realise what he was asking before you dumbly nodded your head. 

You blinked again, and Nico’s hands were cupping—almost engulfing—your face as his thumbs softly swiped away the tears falling down your cheeks. You watched the way his eyebrows furrowed together in concern, his cheeks flushed from whatever he had been drinking to celebrate the Devils’ win. 

“Did something happen?” He asked, so gentle in the way he spoke like he didn’t want to spook you. 

“Just…thinking,” you replied with a weak smile, your breathing still a little erratic and uncertain—and he seemed to notice.

“Breathe with me,” he murmured, taking in a deep breath and giving you a pointed look until you followed his lead. “Just like that, schatz, that’s it.”

Your eyes never left his as you copied his movements, as you took deep breaths until the band around your chest seemed to ease and the burn in your lungs was long gone. Your eyes never left him as his eyes wandered over you, almost like he was double checking you were in fact okay and not physically hurt in any way, shape or form.

“It hurts,” you whispered, catching the boy’s attention as his eyes snapped up to look at you. “It hurts when I realise I can’t really compete with my brothers. Quinn is a captain, Jack is one of the best players in the league, Luke is killing his rookie season and here I am, not even sure what I want to major in and I—”

“Hey, hey,” Nico quickly interrupted when he realised your breathing was starting to pick up again. His thumbs continued to run soothing circles over the apples of your cheek, though the frown on his face remained. “You don’t have to compete with them.”

“I know but,” you paused for a moment, and he waited as you tried to gather the words. “They are them. They are the professional hockey players. They’ve known what they wanted to be since they were practically born and I don’t even know what I want to do with my life.”

“And that’s okay,” Nico assured you, and it felt a little ironic coming from another professional hockey player.

You shook your head, letting out another laugh. “And I don’t even know why I am telling you any of this because you probably want to go and celebrate your win. I mean, you do not need to be standing here and listening to my stupid problems—”

“I don’t mind,” Nico said, a soft smile on his lips. “And they aren’t stupid. Your feelings are never stupid, schatz.” 

He was your brothers’ teammate. Forget that, he was literally Jack and Luke’s captain. You had known him for as long as Jack was a part of the team. You had known him as long as he had been friends with your brothers. And yet despite in that time, you could count on one hand the amount of interactions you’ve had with the boy by yourself. 

And yet, here he was, standing in front of you with his hands holding your face and a smile that made your chest feel tight all over again. He was looking at you like your feelings were valid, like he understood. He was looking at you in a way that so many people never could. In that moment, you didn’t feel like the fourth Hughes’ sibling—you just felt like you.

But before you could even let the voice in the back of your head urging you to let the overwhelming emotions take over, the sound of your brothers’ voices snapped you out of whatever daze you were in.

“God, how long does it take for her to pee?” Jack. 

“I don’t know, she’s a girl. Maybe it takes them longer.” Luke.

“You both are so fucking stupid.” Quinn.

“I should go,” you whispered to Nico, and something in your stomach clenched as though you were about to be caught doing something scandalous. A part of you wished that was the case. “I’m sorry you had to—”

But Nico shook his head, his smile a comfort as he took a step back. “Don’t apologise.”

“Right,” you murmured as you gave him a shaky smile. “I’ll…see you later?”

He huffed out a laugh. “I’ll see you later, schatz.” 

You had quickly stepped out of the alcove before you could embarrass yourself further, finding yourself face to face with your three brothers who were busier bickering than realising you hadn’t even exited the bathroom.

You felt like your body was on autopilot for the rest of the night, but your eyes kept wandering in hopes of finding a certain someone. In hopes that you could see him with your own two eyes and confirm that the feel of his hands on your skin was, in fact, real. In hopes that maybe he was seeking you out too. 

And something in your stomach twisted in delight when your eyes met his across the bar, a grin on his lips that felt more easy-going and teasing than the soft smiles he had given you earlier. And some part of you knew that even if your interactions with the captain had been limited beforehand, something in the air shifted the second he placed his hands on you.

Because you had an inkling feeling that tonight wouldn’t be the last time you found yourself hidden in a secret place with the Swiss man, and something quite like hope sparked inside you that maybe the years of secretly crushing on your brother’s teammate was going to turn into something more.

.

[flowersdiceandlove]

Headcanon that WWX always wanted a family. Like this was not only his biggest dream while he grew up, but also could literally not imagine his life otherwise. He’s a romantic and always used to daydream about having a wife and kids. That one of the reasons that it took him so long to figure out his sexuality and feelings for LWJ is bc of this bc he always thought that you have to have a wife in order to have kids. You have to get married and be husband and wife to have children. Obvi he knows that people have kids out of wedlock and cheat, but he can’t imagine himself doing that. He wouldn’t disrespect a woman by taking her virginity before they were married or let her be shamed by having a baby out of wedlock. He never thinks to solidly on the who his wife might be and it stays a distant fantasy. 1) bc he’s in love w/ LWJ and can’t actually imagine himself w/ anyone else even if he doesn’t realize his feelings. 2) bc he thinks that whatever wife and kids he does have will be bullied by Madam Yu and (even if he doesn’t think of it for himself) he doesn’t want to subject an innocent woman and child to such treatment.

On the same note, I also headcanon that he wants A LOT of kids. He wants a really big family. He wants bio kids w/ his wife if they’re able (he knows fertility issues are real and wouldn’t pressure or fault her if they can’t conceive) but he also wants to adopt. Like adopting is a dealbreaker for him. His wife has to be able to love any adopted kids as much as bio kids. He feels like this may be a dealbreaker for a lot of women bc of all the pressures of bloodline and blood related family. The reason I headcanon this is bc since his parents died when he was so young and the Jiang took him in, he never really had a family he could call his own. (Your own feelings on the Jiang family aside there is no way he was actually allowed to call them his family or siblings growing up) All he wants is a family he can be a part of and call his family, not just reading between the lines. And the reason he wants to adopt is bc he lived on the streets for years before JFM took him in. He knows what that’s like and he wants to help any child he can if he has the resources to care for them. So his solution is to adopt them and give them the family he always wanted.

And I ALSO headcanon that when he was like 13ish, Madam Yu gathered all the male disciples around that age gave them a serious talking to about having sex before marriage (this is where he gets most of his ideas about not disrespecting a woman and shaming her by having sex before marriage since that’s how Madam Yu words it). It’s terrifying bc Madam Yu is terrifying and she was threatening them with Zidian and the discipline whip should they ever bring shame to their clan in such a way. (She’s extra harsh bc of her feelings about JGS and how he treats her sworn sister) Along w/ the fear inducing lecture, she arranges for all the boys to work in an orphanage/Jiang Clan nursery/something for like a week or a month so they can see how much work babies and kids are. AND (this is my fav part of this headcanon) WWX ends up LOVING IT!!! He cannot get enough of this kid and baby thing. It totally backfires on Madam Yu bc while all the other boys are very put off of fooling around for fear of knocking a girl up and ending up w/ a baby, WWX is totally starstruck thinking about his future kids. Even after the mandated time that Madam Yu made them work there for, WWX keeps going back to play w/ the kids and help out. It gets to the point that Madam Yu ends up punishing him for spending too much time there instead of training. But he just loves taking care of kids so much that he keeps sneaking (that’s right sneaking) out to do that. She ends up needing to literally ban him from those places, but he sneaks in anyway since he loves it so much. The people who are supposed to be the ones turning him away just turn a blind eye and don’t tell Madam Yu bc 1) WWX and the kids/babies both love it so much. And 2) they really need the help, so why would they turn away another set of hands? Especially when that other set of hands is just so good with them? As such, WWX is great at caring for kids and not just entertaining them. He never turns away from a dirty diaper or sick kid. He’ll clean up as much kid mess as you need him too. (This is even more true after the whole demonic cultivation thing bc after that he has seen far more gross and nauseating things than in his youth)

That’s all I have on this for now, but I think I still have enough ideas to make another post. Let me know if you want me to continue this.

Part 2

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

miscellaneous fellow honest headcanons

These aren't following any prompt in particular, these are just thoughts I had when I saw the guy hammin' it up and then turning on us.

Some of these headcanons are informed by fan art I've seen and discussions I've had with friends, while others are purely me.

Curiouser and Curiouser...

He calls people “little lads” and “little ladies”.

Fellow has a very noticeable laugh. Like, he grunts and snorts and has tears rolling down his cheeks. (He tends to laugh at others’ misery, thinking of it as “retribution” or “payback” for the injustices he has suffered himself.)

Bro shaves using a knife (yes, he shaves because he is a grown ass man) because razors are hella expensive.

He uses that cheap cologne and cakes it on THICK. This, in his mind, gives off the impression that he’s a well-off and put-together individual you should tooootally trust.

Also the type of person that lays it on thick with his words. If he’s trying to impress a date or something, he’ll shower them with so many compliments it almost seems fake. But no, he’s just the type to simp hard when he happens to be genuine 💀 most of the time he’s faking it though—

He’s very street smart, but in a way where he confuses hostile people by talking over them and acting overly friendly. They usually stuns them long enough for him and Gidel to skedaddle.

If he gets dumped, he'd be the pathetic whimpering boyfriend that begs for his ex to take him back. When they inevitably don't, he mopes all day about it.

He chain smokes and aggressively drinks as a coping mechanism on his bad days 😔 and sometimes he gambles (like, on those scratch-off cards) hoping that he'll strike it rich and buy him and Gidel a better life...

Basically, he generally does not have his shit together but tries his best to pass like someone who does (and usually succeeds at it).

Fellow appears in public wearing his full suit, but at home (ie whatever ratty temporary housing their boss found for them before they move on to the next place) he just wears a T-shirt and lounges around in boxers (and sometimes socks with holes in them).

He uses those disposable eyeshadow wands that snap in half at the slightest bit of too much pressure. Fellow acts like the Claire’s kid makeup he uses is the luxury stuff, but Vil can tell the pigmentation isn’t all there and there’s MAD fallout.

He may be broke AF and have his moments of emotional spiraling, but he has pretty decent budgeting skills. Fellow lives for sales and does extreme couponing to stretch their money as far as it will go.

He invests in other cost-saving methods like wearing shoes until the sole is literally flopping off and just adding water to residual soap in a pump bottle to make the soap "last longer".

Fellow is really good at cutting food (bread, beans) thin to conserve it. Yes, this is a reference to an old Mickey Mouse cartoon—

When he was younger, he had dreams of being an actor (and, more specifically, starring in musicals). That's why he's often humming, swinging around his cane, and/or whistling as he's on the prowl for idiots to sucker—they're remainders of his thespian days before his dreams were crushed into itty bitty pieces.

Man looks like he'd be great at tap dancing.

Before his current gig, he tried a bunch of other scams including a MLM at one point to get by. His signature spell came in pretty clutch in those days too.

Fellow’s not that good at reading or spelling—in fact, he was never a particularly strong student. (“I didn’t fail school!! The schools failed ME!!”) He’s easily frustrated by academics and thinks there should be more hands-on and practical skills taught in learning institutions.

I think it's a given that he and Ruggie would be besties since they both want to eat the rich but I also think Fellow would kiss ass to Azul and then rage about how shitty + entitled Azul is (Azul reminds Fellow of his boss)💀 Scammers hate other scammers because they're both competing to scam the same people--

Even though Fellow is an asshole to most others (well, when he’s not flattering them to lure them into a trap), he’s always nice to Gidel and puts him first. If there’s ever a situation where they’re short on something (clothes, food, etc), Gidel gets priority. This is why Gidel has a full outfit (even if parts are patches or mismatched) whereas Fellow himself has a glove that is so worn out there’s a hole in one of the pinkie fingers.

Fellow may not be blessed with a bounty of magic, but he’s quick on his feet and good with words. Because of these skills, he’s talented at spinning bedtime stories, which he often tells to Gidel to help him fall asleep on nights that are particularly cold and nasty.

Gidel still believes in Santy Claws and wishing upon stars, and Fellow doesn’t have the heart to tell him the truth. He’ll figure it out on his own one day, Fellow thinks. He just doesn’t want to be the one to ruin those childhood joys for him.

Playing pretend is another shared past time of theirs. It helps Fellow get into character before he goes off to swindle people, and it gives Gidel a way to express himself in spite of being mute. They have a routine they do together where Fellow pretends to be a doctor diagnosing a patient and Gidel takes down notes for him as his medical scribe. Yes, this is a Pinocchio reference—

They actually have many more games they play (mainly because they cannot afford other forms of entertainment). Some of the games are clever ruses conjured by Fellow to teach Gidel survival tips and tricks: the who-can-make-their-piece-of-bread-last-longer game, hide-and-seek (from the authorities), etc.

For special occasions, Fellow saves up some money on the side to grant Gidel little luxuries, like a box of crayons to doodle with.

Gidel hugs Fellow’s leg or waist to cheer him up when he’s upset. He also hides behind Fellow when he’s scared or feeling shy.

He’s just really attached to Gidel cuz they have no one else in this cruel world, just them against the world 😔 He sees a lot of his younger self in the little boy… the opportunities lost because of their circumstances… “It’s alright, Gidel. Leave it to Fellow-sama.”

[the-scandalorian]

Mine

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: Explicit, 18+ Word Count: 4k Content Warnings: anal, ass play, rimming and oral (f-receiving), spit as lube, threatened violence against the reader (not by Joel), canon-typical violence Notes: Endless gratitude to both @frannyzooey and @oscarseyebrow for the help, literally would not have finished this without you two gems xx

He wants it—has wanted it. 

He wants the claim. The utter possession.

Whenever he puts you on your hands and knees, Joel settles a splayed hand on your lower back, and it always slips down, his rough palm sliding further and further the more he loses himself in the pleasure. It drops along with the register of his groans and the steady slap of his hips. He lets his hand shift until his thumb is tucked between your cheeks. And when he’s grunting low and deep, about to pull out so he can come—so he can paint himself in warm streaks across your skin—he’ll press the pad of that finger firmly against your asshole. 

Not inside, not yet. He doesn’t go further than that.

He’s waiting for you to say it. He wants to hear those words, begged so pretty and desperate in your breathy whine. He wants you to plead for it when you can’t wait any more.

He wants you to tell him to fill you in the way he can’t—won’t—risk with your pussy.

He wants you to ask him to make you his.

He dreams about it.

Please, Joel.

*** You’ve been waiting for him to say something—to act on it. You know he wants it.

You’re used to Joel taking what he wants. Never forcefully, not with you. You revel in the privilege of being a singular exception in that way—in being the one type of relationship left for him that isn’t ruled by violence. When he wants something from you, he doesn’t hesitate or hedge or waver. He just says it, lays it out.

Like that first time so many months ago when he fixed those serious brown eyes on you—on you—and said, “Come home with me.”

A statement, not a question. An invitation for you to take or leave. 

Take.

This, for some reason, seems different though.

He’s waiting on you to ask for it.

It’s not some groundbreaking thing that precipitates it. What happens is wearily commonplace in the QZ.

A stupid kid, some nineteen year old with the power trip of a pistol in his hand, gets the jump on you. You’re alone, and he sneaks up behind you in an alley.

The cold barrel is pressed to your temple before you can react.

“Stay quiet,” he breathes, his hot breath reeking of alcohol next to your ear. It has the heady bite of too much ethanol, something he made cheap and easy.

You do mental calculations as he walks you to a brick wall, crowding you up against it until your cheek is pressed to the cool, rough surface. A groping hand reaches into your jacket pocket. He just wants your ration cards, and it’s probably easiest to let him take them and turn tail.

But then he steps back, the steel of the gun moving to press between your shoulder blades, and you can feel the rake of his eyes down your body.

“Well, you’re pretty, aren’t you?”

Your gut fills with lead. The air in your lungs tightens as his intentions shift. You’re about to move, to reach for the switchblade in your inner pocket when there’s a yelp—the pressure of the gun disappearing from your back—the scuffling feet on asphalt and a low grunt—

You turn, and Joel has the guy hauled up against a half-collapsed chain-link fence, his cheek pressed into a tangled coil of barbed wire. He disarmed him in the same movement, the butt of the pistol visible over the waistband of Joel’s jeans, holstered at his lower back.

Joel, who had come looking for you when you ran late.

He seems perfectly calm when he meets your gaze, but you know the tightness in his shoulders, that muted threat in his blown pupils. He’s agitated. Uneasy. Mad at himself that you were alone. You catch it when his eyes flick down and up again, surveying your body for injury.

“Yes or no?” he asks.

You consider for a moment, appreciating the raw fear in the young guy’s eyes—how quickly Joel turned him from a predator to a shifty-eyed, skittery little rabbit. His breathing is a shallow, frantic pant.

“No,” you decide.

Joel nods and shoves him away, and the kid stumbles. When he glances back over his shoulder, you can see fat tears of blood oozing from the shallow cuts below his eye. He’s too shocked to speak, to do anything. He just staggers into a run and disappears.

Your eyes slide back to Joel, and something clicks into place as you watch each other—you realize just how utterly and completely he has you. That he’d burn the world for you if you asked. And you’d do the same for him.

He approaches you with quiet steps. A warm hand settles on your waist.

“Alright?” he asks, looking down at you, his thumb stroking the cotton of your shirt. 

Tension is a precarious, taut thing between you, like a spring-loaded trap ready to bite.

You nod and say, “Take me home.”

*** His apartment is flooded with afternoon sun. Golden beams of light streaming in between the half-closed curtains are shot with suspended motes of dust. Everything always feels still within these walls, like he really can shut out the rest of the world when he closes the heavy door behind him.

He’s on you as soon as he does, his hand coming up to cup your cheek and his mouth on yours as he guides you backward toward the bed.

You both need the reassurance of touch.

You need more than that: you want him to accept the control you're offering with willing hands and take.

As you move together, you let the lingering hum of adrenaline in your bloodstream pull the words—the ones that might have otherwise gotten stuck in your throat—out of your mouth. 

You whisper against his lips: “I want you to fuck my ass.”

He goes rigid for a moment, his breath a pant against your lips, and then he dips his head to your ear. 

His voice is something else entirely now—no more veiled fear behind his rasp, just a honeyed growl of pure desire: “Say it again.”

You bury your face against the hollow of his throat and smile.

“Go on, I want to hear it.”

You squirm and slip a hand into the back pocket of his jeans.

“Be a good girl and say it for me,” he prods, dragging the tip of his nose up your cheek. He slips his hand down your back and over the swell of your ass, pulling your hips forward into his, and squeezes. 

You give him what he wants, what you both want: “I want you to fuck my ass.”

He hums his approval and takes a long, slow inhale to savor the thought of it. He’s just as pleased as you’d hoped he’d be. More, maybe.

He moves his hand inward, tracing the middle seam of your jeans with a light touch.

“That right? You gonna let me in here?” 

His voice is smug, a cocky drawl, but when you look up into his eyes, there’s a hint of desperation skulking behind his dilated pupils, like he’s not quite sure what he’d do if you said no. Like he needs you to want it. 

“I know you want it,” he says, his breath hitching. He tries to convince you, even though you are already won—were won, long ago. “I feel the way you press back against me, just begging for it—I see how quick you come on my cock when I touch you right here.” 

You press a kiss to the taut lines of his neck. He’s right.

He slips his hand down the back of your thigh and hitches your leg up, rolling his hips against you. Once.

“You gonna let me come inside your tight little ass?”

Twice.

You lean away to brush a hand over his crotch, over his fly where you can feel the thick roll of him straining against the denim, and nod up at him. Joel’s gaze is barbed with desire, with a heat so tangible it burns.

*** He lays you out on his bed, strips you bare, and kneels over you. His shirt is quickly discarded on the floor, his belt buckle left open. His lips pull to the side in a casual smile as he looks down at you—surveying the luxurious lines of your body on display for him—but there’s a feral glint of need in his dark eyes as he settles into a familiar position over you, his hips caught between your spread thighs. 

You reach up to run a hand through his silver-flecked hair. 

Joel sucks two of his fingers into his mouth, and when he pulls them out, he leans down to kiss you just as he slips those two shiny, spit-soaked fingers down between your thighs, past where he usually settles them, until he finds that tight ring of muscle. He groans at first contact, pressing lightly, testing the resistance. 

He’s eager. Getting right to it. Your body is tense with the newness of it—with anticipation, with want—but you know he won’t rush it. You trust him to set the pace.

“Relax for me, honey,” he murmurs against your lips. 

The low, husky twang in his command is like a sedative. In and outside his bedroom. It’s easy to surrender to someone who never lets you down—to someone who protects you with bared teeth, white knuckles, and no quarter.

His mouth claims yours again, his tongue dipping past your teeth. Joel asks for a lot when he kisses you—always has. He takes a lot. It’s deep and needy. Possessive. The scratch of his facial hair against your skin is familiar, the smell of him overwhelming when he’s so close.

Clean laundry, warm sun, a light hint of sweat from working outside. Joel.

He kisses down your neck with an open mouth, cloying and distracting, as he massages his wet fingers over your asshole. 

He teases. Pets. Coaxes. All the while, his mouth does the same—on your throat, your chest, your breasts. Hungry and wanting. Joel moves at a leisurely pace, dropping himself down to nip at your ear lobe, pinching and rolling your nipple with his other fingers. 

He’s working you up, making you ask for it, and it’s effective.

When you start to writhe and whine, he finally shuffles down your body and takes up his rightful place with his head between your splayed thighs.  

Joel watches you when he goes down on you, his eyes flicking up to your face and back down to where you’re aching for him—constantly. Always assessing. Studying. Devouring. Gauging how hard or how easy to push you.

He spreads you open and dips his head to lick your clit with the broad sweep of his tongue, taking you apart as he works you open. He’s well-practiced in the art of dismantling you.

He gradually increases the pressure—of  his tongue and his finger—ratcheting up the pleasure, until your legs are shaking around his ears. Until one of your hands is fisted in his short, thick hair. Until you’re canting your hips up and up and up to fuck yourself against his face.

You drag your arm over your eyes, overcome—

Joel looks up—his hot mouth leaving you cold—and tsks, pulling your arm away from your face. “Let me see you.”

His lips shine with your arousal.

Your stalled pleasure has your mouth dropped open, but Joel resumes the steady sweep of his tongue and the firm press of his nose against your mound right away, catching you midair and dragging you right back to the brink of an orgasm. Your heels slip down the sheets, your head pressing back into the pillow as you moan and ride it out.

Joel grunts when he feels it, when it spreads through your veins like lightning.

You meet his eyes as you pant through the aftermath—his brow is creased deeply, his lips parted just a little when he pulls away, his breath barely audible—and while you’re mellow and unwound, he presses his finger inside. He squeezes his eyes shut against the pleasure, reveling in the warm pull of your body, and you arch. A heavy hand settles on your chest.

“Easy,” he says, his voice low, “easy now.”

He waits for your muscles to relax, for you to give him an encouraging nod, and he works that finger a little deeper in your ass, thrusting it shallowly. He can feel your body responding to it—acclimating to, asking for it.

“Turn over for me,” he says, his voice even gruffer than normal. “Get on your hands and knees so I can see it.”

You flip for him, situating yourself on your elbows. The bed creaks as he slips off it behind you. There’s the metal sound of a zipper and the rustle of denim, and then the mattress dips again as he settles behind you.

He leans down to purse his lips and spit. It drips, warm and wet as it slides between your cheeks, and he catches it with two fingers, smearing it over where he’s started working you open, where you feel warm and ready for him, inviting—where you glisten with it. You expect him to press one inside you again, but instead, he leans down and his tongue takes it place.

Your hips jerk forward reflexively at the foreign feeling, at the press of the wet muscle against sensitive skin, but as soon as your mind catches up, you shift back to chase the sensation, that warm, slick slide—the welcoming heat of his mouth. A series of sloppy kisses, wet and open.

Joel’s hands spread you as he tastes you. He licks and laps, his tongue exploring every inch of your puckered rim, and the feeling unfurls over your skin slowly—hot and syrupy and decadent—dispatching a delayed shiver down your spine. The pleasure crackles and spits, your nerves a circuit of live wires.

You moan into the feeling, letting your body arch, and shove yourself against the fervor of his mouth. You wonder why you didn’t ask him—beg him—for this sooner. 

It’s brief. He wants to stay there—you can tell by the low sound he makes against your body, the sound that deepens when you push back against his mouth, so deep it vibrates—but he’s impatient.

Impatient to be inside you.

He spits again, another rush of warmth, and pulls away to say: “Touch yourself, honey.”

You obey, settling a cheek on his pillow, one hand between your legs. His first finger returns. A second one joins it, and you whine at the stretch when he edges them inside.

“I know—I know it’s tight, baby.”

He soothes you with a heavy hand on your back, rubbing it up and down your spine reassuringly.

“I got you.”

He spits one more time, a generous, wet lubricant for his thrusting fingers. He collects the moisture and presses them deep.

You can feel his lips on the back of your thigh, his tongue and the scrape of his teeth. He moves up, working his mouth gently over the curve of your cheek. His hand smooths over your hip, the other working his fingers deeper in a slow rhythm, the movements careful and fluid. He won’t give you more than you can handle. 

You feel full with just his fingers moving inside you, but when you start to move your own fingers over your clit, you find that the fullness feels good.

He answers your pleased sounds: curling and stroking you from the inside out. His fingers scissor and stretch.

His other hand leaves your body, and you can hear him fisting his cock behind you—pausing to spit into his waiting palm and slick it over himself. You know exactly what that looks like, the storm of desire brewing in his dark eyes and the roll of his muscular shoulder as he pumps himself. A pearl of precum likely glistens along his slit, disappearing as his shaft is swallowed by the circle of his fist.

The image of him, one you’ve seen countless times, never fails to arouse you.

The command, the intention—the intoxicating need. 

In the beginning, you had to look away from it. It was too naked, too vulnerable—it was the only time Joel would drop the front and let himself be more than just leashed rage. The only time he’d cut the tether and let himself want what he wants—let it show on his face, stark as day.

Now, you live for it. You recognize it for the rare, precious gift it is.

You can’t help but peer over your shoulder to catch a glimpse of that furrowed brow and taut neck. That is the Joel who loves with his whole chest. Who loves with teeth.

He looks up from where his hand is moving to meet your gaze. He eases those two fingers out of you, and you whimper at the loss.

He moves closer behind you, his broad frame looming tall over you, and settles. Your legs are spread as wide as they go in this position, his bracketed between them.

“I’ll go slow, yeah?” 

You press your cheek back into the pillow and breathe. 

You can feel the fat head of him notched against you, the heat and the slickness, where you’re drenched and shiny. He drops his hips and rubs the tip up and down, once and again. The anticipation—the knowledge of his size—has you tensing, but he pets your hips and talks you through it.

“Relax and let me in.”

Joel eases his hips forward, and as much as he’s prepared you, as much as he’s coaxed your body open to accommodate his fingers, the stretch of him still burns. He’s been so careful, taken such good care of you, but the size of him aches. You can’t help but squirm, a whine spilling from your lips, as he enters you.

He reacts to your hesitation right away.

“Drop your hips for me,” he says, a heavy hand on your lower back.

He guides you down, and you all but collapse, almost prone on the mattress. He blankets your body with his own, his warm chest and the softness of his belly flush against your back, and reaches around you, snaking a hand into the few inches of space between your hips and the bed, to massage your clit with the pacifying rock of one finger—to where your hand had been a second ago, before it dropped away to fist in the sheets. 

He’s heavy draped over you, his body a grounding weight. If it weren’t him—if you didn’t have that steel-cast trust between you, it might feel smothering. This prostrate position, vulnerable.

Instead, safe. 

He breathes hot and slow down the side of your neck then sets his teeth against your shoulder, a blunt bite—not hard enough to hurt but hard enough to mute all other sensation, just a little. 

He’s giving you something to hold on to. 

He murmurs praise between light, plush kisses and little nips, as the blunt tip of his cock slowly—so slowly—breaches the tight ring of your ass.

You key into the words—honey, baby, sweetheart—and the hot trail of his mouth. And breathe, slow and steady, to let your body welcome him deep.

When his hips are cradling your cheeks, he stills.

You’re full; you’re so fucking full. 

It’s almost unbearable in sensation. The thick, rigid length of him is throbbing inside you. You need—you need something—

Your thoughts are slow, eddying and pinwheeling like curls of smoke that refuse to coalesce into something tangible. 

His finger is still pressed tight to your clit, and as you settle together, you adjust. A realization creeps up the back of your neck, shy. Move, you think, the link between your brain and your mouth suddenly faulty. You need him to move.

You arch and start to shift back into him, to encourage him to fuck you.

Joel growls in your ear, the hand between your legs jumping to your throat. “Stay still for me. Just—stay still, alright? Let me—” 

You tense with the effort of it, all of your muscles tightening, contracting around the thick intrusion of him, and his words are cut short by a low groan and the subtle flex of his hips forward. The movement draws a whimper from your throat—a pleased sound.

It’s taking all his control not to move, not to thrust into the tight, molten clench of your body. 

“Let me—let me just feel you like this for a minute,” he finishes. His voice cracks with the effort of staying still. The hand caught around your throat trembles and tightens. 

He’s savoring it. Savoring you.

And trying not to let the exquisite grip of your body undo him too soon. It’s dizzying, knowing that.

He shifts back a bit, braced on a locked elbow by your side, so he can see where he’s splitting you open, and runs a reverent hand along your curves, up your thigh and over your hip—a rough, calloused palm turned tender in the moment. His breathing is labored.

You peer at him over your shoulder, your neck straining. His mouth is dropped open, his tongue peeking out between his lips, and his eyes are hooded. They flick down to meet yours. 

Understanding passes between you.

He drops himself over you again, and his hand finds a home on your shoulder, holding fast. Then he eases his hips back, gently withdrawing before starting up a slow cadence. Testing.

You moan when he thrusts forward, and his own low sound matches yours. His hips start to move faster, his thighs colliding with the backs of yours.

“You gonna come with my cock in your ass?”

You nod against the fabric of his pillow case, your hand returning to the apex of your thighs. It doesn’t take much—a few moments of gentle fingers passing over your aching clit, and all of your muscles are tightening.

“Fuck, yes,” he growls. “Let me feel it.”

His rhythm kicks up to a rapid slap slap slap of skin against skin, as you spasm and quiver against the bed, your open, panting mouth leaving a wet spot on the cotton. You clench around the crowded feeling of him until your brain is fuzzy with a haze of pleasure. Until your limbs go completely slack.

“You’re taking it so good for me. So fuckin’ tight.”

You feel sated and warm in the aftermath, your body fucked out and sluggish. You can tell Joel is close by the uneven staccato of his thrusts and the tightness in his voice.

“Oh fuck, baby,” he pants. “You’re gonna make me come—make me fill this tight little ass.”

You moan—waiting for it, wanting it. 

But he wants to hear it first.

“Is that what you want? Hmm? Say it,” he demands, his words punctuated by the surge of his hips and the press of his thighs. “Tell me where you want me to come.”

You barely manage to get the words out, twisted in your raw throat—

“Please, Joel—inside.”

—before he does.

The sound he makes is low and feral, a gasp and a growl clawing their way out of his chest. He grinds himself deep into the tight heat of your body, his hips stuttering in sheer relief, and his cock twitches as he spills inside you. A flood of warmth, pulses of pearly cum fucked deep.

Again and again, until he’s spent.

He pulls out, leaving you empty. You know he wants to see it.

Sure enough, he thumbs between your cheeks, admiring the place where he’s marked you—feeling the sticky warmth of himself in your body. Like he’s always wanted to.

After a long moment, he collapses next to you on the bed and pulls you into his side. 

“Come here,” he says, gathering you up in his arms. He presses a kiss to your forehead and swipes soft fingers over your cheek. You’re boneless in his hands.

He doesn’t say it, but you know. 

Mine.

[wintfleur]

🍂 ͡ ꒱ JULIETTES RELATIONSHIP WITH HER BROTHERS

au masterlist - everything for the AU is under #🍂 ͡ ꒱ Juliette Leclerc

𐙚 LORENZO!

Lorenzo . . . ‘Enzo’ is the best big brother, he’s such a role model for her, and she’s always looked up to him.

He’s always been her voice of reason and encouragement, helping her calm down her emotions and not do anything rash, to help her understand what she’s feeling and to listen to what she says and, to always be there to cheer her up and help her out of those dark feelings.

Enzo was the first person she told when she realized she also wanted to kart.

Enzo helped teach her how to drive with there father, Arthur and Charles to scared to get in the car, claiming that she’s ‘going to kill them and drive into a store’ Julie did end up threatening to kill them in a more private and painful way because of all there teasing. Neither of them got in a car with her for months.

Julie gets sister privileges !!!

They have there weekly calls, checking in and making sure everything is good.

Enzo is the best advice giver! And she knows she can talk to him about anything

She loves just curling up in his side.

Just the sweetest big brother ever.

Has have had to pick Julie up at parties when she’s gotten too drunk . . . many times.

They both definitely laugh and tease the other two when they are being dramatic

He loves his little sister very much and will do anything for her!

𐙚 CHARLES!

Out of all her siblings, she’s definitely the closest to Charles, ever since they were kids.

Yes they had their fair share of arguments and fights, but they have always stuck up for each other no matter what, they can only mess with each other . . . no one else!

They’re each other’s safe place, they both understand the pressure they are both under, and they really help each other out.

Charles was the first person Julie told when she realized that she liked girls as well. And he was the one who helped her gain the courage to come out.

Charles is always the first person to defend her, from the media, interviewers, from anyone. He will not have his sister disrespected.

They both absolutely love their family, planning outings and get togethers for all of them!

They see each other the most

They had a tree house! And would always tease Arthur about not being cool enough to come up and hang with them.

He’s the most nosey brother, wanting to know everything going on in her life . . . but he means well !

They have had some moments where their career has put some strain on their relationship, but it doesn’t last long. It’s just because Julie hates talking about her feelings, and Charles loves talking about hers . . . aka avoidance from Julie.

He loves having sleepovers at her homes!

Sassy duo fr!

They are always messing with each other! And the media absolutely loves it.

You know that tiktok sound ‘this is bob, bob loves his personal space. This is Larry, Larry also loves bob’s personal space’ that’s them, bob is Julie and Larry is Charles.

Sees Julie’s soft side the most

𐙚 ARTHUR!

That’s her baby . . . no one messes with her baby (yes she’s only a year older . . . but still, he’s her baby)

Julie is Arthur’s favorite sibling and he’s very open about it, Arthur was quite the emotional kid and despite his outburst or over reactions, Julie was always there for him, to help him out, calm him down and, to let him know that he’s not crazy about his feelings

Julie has always been there for Arthur to listen to his worry’s about driving and what his future is in the sport, he trusts her opinion and thoughts more than anyone else.

Arthur hates how every single one of his friends are in love with Julie, and Julie just loves teasing him about it, always giving them a sweet smile and wave.

Arthur is quite clingy towards Julie, physically and emotionally.

Always wanting to sit next to her, get her attention, all of it. I mean, she’s the cool older sister.

He loves practicing his English with her!

He’s also like her biggest fan

He can get a little petty and upset if things don’t go his way with her . . . aka he’s super dramatic.

Arthur loves all of her cooking and baking, like he could eat it all.

First time he got really drunk, he called up Julie and cried, only crying harder when she giggled and tried to reassure him.

He’s always the last one to warm up to Julie’s significant others.

They love watching movies!

Arthur is quite attached to julie, has a fear that she will leave them.

˖ ་ 💭 roro’s notes ( this is pretty short, but I hope it gives you a good idea of Julie’s relationship with her brothers !! She’s a family woman definitely !! Please let me know if you would like to be added to the taglist )

°. — taglist ( @lovings4turn @toasttt11 @cixrosie @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @theopenlocker @lavisenri @callsignwidow )

[so-long-soldier-writes]

Anatomy Class

kai parker x reader

summary: kai + magic + boredom = trouble

tags: high school au, siphoning, magical fingering, masturbation (semi-public)

word count: 1.8k

a/n: i tagged this right next to my dad; you're both 18 in this!

“You have to promise to use this wisely and not get caught with it. Not in school, and certainly not at home,��� you reiterate to Kai for maybe the third time in twenty minutes. 

“I know, I know! Trust me, princess, I know the risks.”

“If it runs out, I can give you more, but if my parents suspect something’s up, they’ll find a way to contact yours.”

“But what if I run out before the day’s over and it’s just wasted? If I don’t use it, it drains.”

You sigh. “What are you suggesting?”

“I don’t know… can’t I just play with it a little? I can’t do that much damage during school hours. Worst I could do is make some kid trip over his shoelaces.”

“Kai!”

“I’m kidding! But seriously, Y/N…”

“Okay, I see your point. Do whatever you want with it, just don’t get caught.”

“And if I run out, you’ll give me more?” He hates to sound greedy, but he’s desperate.

“Of course. I can’t imagine what it’s like to not have permanent access, so as little as I use mine, I might as well give it to you.” He nods. “But again, be careful.”

“I will.”

“Okay. We’re coming up on the school now. Take my hand.”

He does, and then you nod to him to siphon. “Tell me when to stop.”

Your hands glow, but it doesn’t hurt. Kai says when he siphons his siblings, it hurts them. But you don’t feel any pain. If anything, your body warms with a tingly, pleasure-like feeling. After about thirty seconds, you start to feel a little dizzy though, and decide that’s a good time to cut him off. 

“Stop.”

He drops your hand immediately. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. No pain, just a little dizzy.”

“Okay,” he confirms. He’d hate to hurt the one person who’s ever given him any love and attention. 

“How do you feel?”

Kai smiles as the magic runs through his veins. He lets out a small moan that settles in the pit of your stomach. “Good,” he finally answers. He then takes the pencil you’ve stuck behind your ear and makes it float in the air. 

“Good,” you say, stopping for a moment to kiss the side of his face. You take your pencil back as the school comes into view. “See you in class?”

“Mhm.” 

The two of you walk up to the doors together, then part ways for your first class. 

You have third period together, but Kai sits all the way in the back, while you’re in the middle row. The teacher assigned the seats, and rudely placed his kids by favoritism: most engaged in the front; most uninterested in the back. Kai’s incredibly smart, but that comes to his disadvantage in school. Most of the lessons are boring; he passes them with flying colors and faces little challenge completing them. He finishes early, or already understands the material, and ends up tapping his foot or fingers during class. Mr. Peters interprets this as disrespect and boredom. 

Today in class, you’re reviewing the different systems in the body. Yet another topic that Kai has practically memorized. The final exam is in three weeks, though with the material being as difficult as it is, Mr. Peters has decided to start studying early. The material isn’t too much of a challenge for you, though Kai still has you beat in that matter. 

The man makes a list of topics on the chalkboard, then slowly goes down his list asking and answering questions about each one. He asks something and the class responds, but every so often, someone asks their own question, and he launches into a huge explanation for it. It’s during one of your classmate’s questions that you suddenly start to feel a heaviness in the bottom of your stomach. 

Immediately, you put a hand to it. Your mind races to think of what could’ve caused it. You hadn’t eaten anything weird that day, nor have you had any aches or pains all week. In the middle of your train of thought, the feeling shifts lower. There’s a pressure traveling south. In the next moment, it feels like circles being rubbed down along your body. Intentional pressure. Kai. 

Your brain provides the reason as soon as you recall your morning: you gave him magic. 

“Do whatever you want with it,” you had told him. 

Well, he sure is now. 

Slowly, you turn to face him. His hands are hidden from sight, inside his desk, but the smile creeping on his face is unmistakable. He’s certainly messing with you. 

Stop, you mouth to him. 

The bastard only winks. 

You turn back around and cross your legs over each other, squeezing them tight. There’s no freaking way he’s doing this in the middle of class. 

The pressure suddenly increases. You can almost feel the pads of his fingers touching you - one on your clit, two brushing your folds. You bite your lip so hard it might bleed. Your hands are clenched into fists underneath the table. 

“Kai, stop,” you think, hoping there’s even a point one percent chance he can read your mind. He doesn’t, though, and if anything, mimics dipping between your folds, feeling your walls. 

“The organs involved in the endocrine system are- Y/N,” your teacher stops mid-sentence to look at you, “are you okay?!”

You release your fists, hoping to look less suspicious. “Yeah. I have a stomach ache. Do you- do you mind if I go to the restroom?”

Mr. Peters hurries to his desk for a hall pass. “Not at all. Go to the nurse if it doesn’t feel better in ten minutes.”

“Yes, sir. Thank you.” You take it and hurry out the door.

You spare a glance at Kai on your way out. He smirks at you when you look at him, but then looks back at his hands, clearly focused. The feeling sharpens, and you dash out the door. 

As soon as you reach the bathroom, you fling yourself against the wall in the nearest stall. You’re still biting your lip not to moan, but don’t fight the need that brings you to unbuckle your belt to relieve some of the built-up tension. Criminally, it seems Kai can still control you despite the distance. You can still feel his finger-pads petting your walls. The pressure is still on your clit, and it only grows by the minute. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, feeling yourself getting close. 

You drop two fingers to your clit, rubbing it yourself. Your knees almost buckle, and you have to push your toes against the edge of the toilet to not slip. 

“Goddammit, Kai.” It’s a whisper, but you really hope no one else is in the bathroom right then. 

You focus on the way he feels on you, as well as the added pressure you’re giving yourself. Within two minutes’ time, you come. It hits you hard. Your knees almost give out, despite the way you tried to hold yourself upright. Your chest heaves; the sensation sends pleasure throughout your whole body. Your vision gets spotty, and soon, your lip starts to bleed. It’s overwhelming in all the best ways. 

After another few seconds, Kai seemingly retracts his fingers. You curse him the minute he does, remembering you’re in school, and you’re supposed to be studying in class right now. 

The moment you get your bearings, you stumble to your feet and towards the sink. You wash your hands and grab onto the solid material to ground yourself; your brain is still swimming in post-high fuzzies. 

“Fuck you, Kai,” you think, again telepathically, hoping he can hear you. If he can, you’d bet your life on the fact that he’s wearing his signature smirk. 

When you finally recover, you make your way back to class. You offer Mr. Peters a half smile and report that most of it is gone. “Must’ve been something I ate this morning,” you lie. 

He replies with his own smile and a nod, and goes back to teaching. 

The moment you sit, you turn to see Kai, who is, in fact, smirking at you. You give him a playful roll of your eyes before turning back to the lesson.

Luckily, that’s his only shenanigan for the day. During lunch and your other classes together, he dares to act innocent. You would scold him for it during lunchtime, but Jo is sitting with you today, preventing that entirely. 

The walk back to school provides the perfect timing. 

“Malachai Parker,” you say in your best authoritative voice.

“What? Did I do something wrong?”

“Did I do something wrong?! Did I do- you know what you did.”

“I don’t recall.”

“Third period. You and your magic fingers. You-”

“Oh,” he has the nerve to laugh, “that. Did you like that?”

“Did I like that?! Kai, during class?!”

“You said I could do whatever I wanted as long as I didn’t get caught. I didn’t get caught.”

You scoff. “I did not mean for you to do that!”

“But you liked it. What’d you do in the bathroom?”

“What?!”

“Why’d you go to the bathroom?”

“To hide the fact you were fingering me in class! What do you think I went for?!”

“Did you come?”

“Excuse me?”

“Simple question, princess.”

“I did not-”

“Don’t lie to me now.”

“Fine,” you bite your lip, “I did.”

He smiles. “Got you. Knew you liked it.”

“That was so inappropriate! I’d never think you’d be so bold. And when did you know when to stop? You did, like, ten seconds after I finished.” 

He chuckles like it’s a game. “The last five times I’ve fingered you, it’s taken you five minutes on average to come. I watched on my watch; three minutes happened in class, two in the bathroom. I gave ten seconds to spare to either get you there if you needed extra time, or to ride you through it. Turns out, I’m pretty spot on.”

“Putting your brain to great use,” you mumble, “and my magic.”

Suddenly, he looks nervous. “You’re still gonna give it to me, right? I didn’t lose my chances to have it, did I? Because I can behave. Y/N, I promise. It won’t happen again.”

You change your attitude to match his. “Oh, baby, no. No, I’m not like that. Don’t you worry about stuff like that. I’m still gonna give you magic, even if you use it in questionable ways.”

“Okay. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. But one condition.”

“Yes ma’am?”

“Wait until actual study time, like in the library, to do it. Not in class. Unless we’re watching a movie.”

“Deal.”

“Good.”

“I love you, you little weasel.”

He scrunches his nose at the nickname. “I love you, too.” Then he chuckles. “I fingered you in class.”

“Kai!”

[morganski-19]

Chills Right to the Marrow Part 29

ao3 link| part 1 . . . part 26, part 27, part 28

Dustin’s not exactly sure what happened. He was patiently waiting for Steve to meet him in the lobby, but it’s been almost a half hour, and Dustin has no idea where he is. He already went back to check in Eddie’s room, but nothing. Then outside, nothing again. And Steve would never leave his stranded, so it can’t be that.

Which leaves Dustin completely alone, eating a Snickers bar that he got from the vending machine because they were out of Three Musketeers. The second one he got for Steve slowly melting in his pocket. Wondering if it was at the level where he had to go check under the bathroom stalls to see if any of the feet were wearing Steve’s shoes.

But he can at least be a little bit saner and go double check Eddie’s room again. Maybe Steve couldn’t find him and went back there to look. That would be the logical thing to do.

When Dustin opens the door, Steve has the chair pulled up close to Eddie’s bed hunched over and looking like he’s about to cry. Eddie’s looks like halfway there himself. Both of them jumping to hide that fact when Dustin entered.

“I didn’t know where you went,” Dustin says. Not sure whether to ignore or acknowledge what he just walked into. “I thought we were going to go home.”

Steve shakes his head gently, pressing his eyes shut like it will stop the tears from flowing. “Yeah, sorry. Could you just give me a second? I was just talking to Eddie about something.”

“It’s ok,” Eddie brushes off with his hand. “Take the kid home, we can talk about this later.”

“Are you sure? He can wait another minute-.”

“I’m sure. We’re good, ok. Go home.” Eddie looks at him like he really means what he’s saying. Not just pretending for both of their benefit. Not again.

Steve nods. Standing and pushing the chair back in place against the wall. “I’ll see you later then.”

Eddie waves Steve over and whispers something before letting him leave. Steve just snorts and smiles at whatever it is. Whispering something back before finally ushering Dustin out of the room. Some sort of weird energy radiating off of him in the car ride home. A mix between happy and sad that Dustin doesn’t understand.

“What was that about?” Dustin asks. Trying to do it without a confrontational tone.

Steve shrugs. “We just had something to talk about, that’s all.”

Dustin nods. “But you’re both ok, right? It looked like you were both about to cry.”

He’s trying to be gentle about the topic. Trying to calm the way he can ask about things. So it doesn’t sound like he’s pressuring his way into situations. That way people can feel like they can open up to him, and tell him what’s going on. Instead of just brushing it off and telling him it’s not his problem.

Because it was his problem. This was his friend. This was his family. He didn’t have siblings to fight through all of this with. He didn’t have parents who he could tell these things too. For the most part, it’s been Steve that he’s talked to about all this. It’s been Steve that he radioed in the middle of the night when he was so scared he couldn’t breathe. Or when he needed advice about school problems. Or anything.

Somewhere along the line, Steve became the sibling he fought through stuff with. That’s been a sure fact since he helped Dustin get ready for the Snowball. They were one of the mini units in the bigger organization.

It hurt when Steve hid things from him out of “protection”. Dustin didn’t need protecting, he needed transparency. He needed for Steve to know that Dustin’s here for him. Just as much as Steve’s there for Dustin. This was a two-way street.

“We were, kinda,” Steve says after a long break of silence.

“Are you ok?”

Steve puts the car in park, turning to Dustin with an almost relieved expression. “Yeah. I am.”

“Ok.” Dusting is choosing to trust that Steve would tell him if he wasn’t. “Just, if you start to feel not ok, you know you can talk to me about it. I’ll listen.”

“I know.”

There’s a knock at Dustin’s window. His mom waving hello with a gentle smile. Dustin knows why, he always knows why. It’s to invite Steve in to have dinner that he’ll refuse three times before giving in. He’s over there for dinner more nights that he would probably admit.

“Hi, Miss Henderson,” Steve says when he rolls down the window.

“Hello. I haven’t seen you in a while, Steve. Why don’t you come in for dinner?”

That’s a lie, she saw him two days ago when she returned a movie at Family Video.

Steve lets out a small huff, catching her on her lie. “I appreciate it, but I really should be heading home. I don’t want to bother you.”

“Oh, it’d be no bother at all. It’s the least I can do for all the time you drive Dustin around.”

Dustin rolls his eyes as Steve rolls out another excuse. His mother already coming up with a response that negates the excuse entirely. Steve takes a deep breath and turns the car off, accepting the dinner invitation.

He only refused twice this time. Steve is starting to be worn down.

They go inside and are almost immediately ushered to the table. Set with three places each with their favorite sodas. Because there wasn’t an option for Steve to not be here for dinner, and the three of them knew it. It was just in Steve’s nature to try and refuse.

Even though he knows that once Steve steps through the doors of the Henderson house, he never wants to leave it. It’s much smaller than his house, and a lot more cluttered. But that’s what makes it warm. Every time he walked into his house after an upside down event, with all of this clutter and décor surrounding him, he never felt more relief in his life. He was home.

Whenever he visits one of the other guys’ houses, that feeling is mirrored in its own way. That same feeling wasn’t there whenever he went to Steve’s house.

Dustin remembers the first time Steve ever let him come over. The house was pretty much what he was expecting. High ceilings and fancy flourishes. A room full of furniture no one was allowed to sit on and carpets that couldn’t be walked on with shoes. But there was something wrong with it. The house was only a home when Steve was in it.

Without Steve, it would feel like no one lived there. The walls only had a few pictures on them, and there were more shut doors than open ones. The kitchen sink only ever had a few dishes in it, and the couch only had one cushion with a permanent dent. The whole of it felt so empty.

The worst part was that Steve knew it to. It was a nice place to throw get togethers. It was nice to look at and imagine living there. But Dustin felt the pull from Steve to stay anywhere else for just a second longer. So he didn’t have to go to a place that didn’t feel like home to him.

It’s part of the reason that his mom invites him over to dinner so much. When Dustin told her about how empty his house was, they decided to build Steve a place in theirs. They didn’t have a lot of space, but it was easy for them to make it feel like there was more. For Steve to have his own coat hook when he came over, and a place to put his shoes. A chair at the table that was always his, and his own blanket when they had movie nights.

Dustin wanted Steve to know that this could be his home if he needed it to be. And he knows that it worked. He can see it in the way that Steve relaxes every time he walks through the door. How he is nothing but himself when he’s here.

But eventually he has to leave and go home. He hugs Claudia goodbye and tries to refuse the container of leftovers shoved into his hands. Even though Dustin knows he’s grateful for it. Steve says goodbye to Dustin with a brief hug and a ruffle to his curls. And then he leaves.

Dustin wishes he didn’t have to.

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[tiredmamaissy]

At First Sight

Neteyam’s First Rut: Special Episode II

read chapters: one, two, three, four, five

🔞 minors, do not interact 🔞

Characters: Neteyam Sully (18) x Human Reader (18)

Warnings: nsfw, lots of fluff, childhood friend/crush to lovers, masturbation, size difference, first time everything, foreplay, oral sex [f receiving], vibrator usage, consent king nete [you know how I like him]

Word Count: 8k 🧍‍♀️

Requested: Yes || No

Author’s Note: Thank you so much for 2000 followers, that’s crazy :’) I love you guys, honestly.

Synopsis: The story of how it all started. Neteyam comes to confess his feelings for you, but accidentally walks in on you using a vibrator.

Intro:

Too young to be put in a Cryo chamber and sent back to Earth, you were raised by the scientists who remain loyal to the na’vi after the war with Quaritch. Despite growing up in a lab, you spent most of your childhood with your friends – Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, and Tuk. You formed all your best childhood memories and milestones alongside them. They taught you the na’vi language, and their way of life. You did your best to keep up with them, although it proved hard in your human body.

They were always faster and stronger, not to mention bigger. Despite being the same age as them they would always tower over you, almost double your height and width. Regardless, you were determined to live the life of a na’vi, even with your tiny, frail body.

Having this exopack was bothersome, constantly getting in your way and needing to be recharged and cleaned. But it allowed you to be closer to your people, to your secret love – Neteyam. His family always saw you as the ‘lab kid’, especially his mother. Neytiri always insisted that you go back to your people when you came around to visit.

Neteyam was always quick to defend you, standing up against his own parents – something that he rarely did. He never made you feel left out, pacing himself to ensure you’d never get left behind, being extra gentle during games and always making sure to carry a backup battery for your exopack. He knew how careless you were in keeping it charged. He would even steal extra of your favourite sweets from the lab when you had your monthly cycle. You’d always had a crush on him since you were kids, but when you both got into your late-teens things became... different.

He grew much, much taller than you, always towering over you. His muscles filled out, becoming more defined as he went through the rites of passages to become a man – to become a warrior. Whilst your chest became fuller, hips wider and waist curvier. At times, you’d catch him staring at you, lingering his gaze on your chest or pelvis, burning holes through your shorts. It’d make butterflies flutter in your stomach, giving you hope that maybe he saw you in the same way that you saw him.

You spent most nights with your hand shoved down your pyjama pants, humping your fingers to your lewd thoughts of Neteyam without his loincloth on. Oh, the things you’d do just to see what he really looked like underneath. You wanted nothing more than for him to be the one touching you, to make you feel good. At times you’d try to be bold, and make a move, holding a single finger or brushing your chest against his thigh. But he never caught on, or so it seemed.

Under the immense pressure of his parents, he couldn’t spend nearly as much time as he used to with you, but you understood and never complained. You filled your time with Kiri, becoming her best friend. She taught you everything about the flora and fauna of Pandora, and made you want to become a healer one day if you could ever get an avatar of your own.

You wanted nothing more. Well, that was a lie. You wanted Neteyam more than anything on Pandora, but you’d go to great lengths to have your own avatar – to be able to become a true na’vi. Norm and Max always teased you about you getting your own avatar when you were old enough, but you never believed them, you knew how expensive they were to create.

You had no other choice but to accept your fate as the human girl who longed for a na’vi boy, and his na’vi way of life.

Unbeknownst to you, Neteyam felt similarly from the moment he lay eyes on you. He always felt a strong need to protect his tiny, frail human. He hated nothing more than when others picked on you, and made you feel less than all because of how you looked. He never cared about any of that, you were the kindest and most adorable girl he knew. You were a treasure to be cherished – to be protected at all costs.

He knew never to act on his feelings, though. Given the whole different species thing, he quickly accepted his fate as the son of Olo’eyktan who longed for a sky person. He knew it would never be able to work, in any regard. He felt like he’d break you if he touched you. But now that he’s become a man, the desire to touch you has only grown stronger.

The moments between you and him have become tense, and awkward. He’d keep a good distance between the two of you, yet he’d never take his eyes off you, always ensuring your safety. And in those moments – those rare moments – that the two of you were alone, the tension was off the charts. To the point where Neteyam started distancing himself from you even more, picking up more training sessions with his father and going on longer hunting trips.

It hurt you. To see the man you cared for so deeply never make the time to be around you anymore. You often confided in Kiri about this, as she was the only person who knew about your true feelings for him. She always encouraged you to be honest and open with her brother, convincing you that he had similar feelings. Even though you wanted to believe her, you couldn’t bring yourself to because of how distant and cold Neteyam had been.

----

“Is Neteyam coming?” you ask Kiri, watching her hook the mask around her neck.

“No, he’s on a hunting trip with dad. Sorry, y/n.” Kiri purses her lips before taking a swig of air.

“That’s okay. I understand that he’s busy.” you shrug your shoulder, trying to act like it didn’t bother you that he was always caught up with something.

She rests a hand on your shoulder, reassuring you that it’s nothing personal, even though she knew it was. “Don’t worry about it. He’ll come around soon, y/n.”

You nod, keeping your gaze fixed on your feet as you both make your way deeper into the lab. Lo’ak and Tuk follow behind Kiri, gearing up with their masks too. Kiri came to see her mom, Grace, and Lo’ak usually just tagged along to bother Max and Norm. Tuk never wants to be left out, following closely behind her siblings everywhere they go.

You were excited, hoping to see Neteyam so you could finally talk to him about how you felt. But he flaked yet again, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

“Hey mom.” Kiri hums, climbing on top of her mother’s tank, admiring her floating body.

Lo’ak and Tuk make their way over to Norm and Max, trying to convince them to reveal some top-secret information about what they have in development. “C’mon Norm, don’t be a wuss. Show us!” Lo’ak grins, giving norm a playful shove, moving him a great distance, unaware of his own strength. “...sorry, Norm.”

You find yourself thinking about Neteyam again, watching Norm’s small frame next to Lo’ak, and how you look just like that next to him. Huffing out a sigh, you look around at your friends and realize that you’re alone. Everyone’s got someone, except you. You could walk away, and no one would even notice.

So, you do.

Unable to deny the way you feel, as tears well in your eyes and your chest burns hot, you shuffle away quickly to your room at the end of the hallway in the lab.

Really y/n? Crying again? You scold yourself for being so sensitive.

Neteyam will never want me if I’m this soft. You blink rapidly, clearing the tears from your eyes as you turn the knob on your door.

You were so deep in thought that you didn’t even realise you’ve walked into a completely different room. Looking around, you realise that you’re in Trudy’s room, not yours. It’s been untouched since the war; Norm couldn’t bring himself to step foot into her room, much less go through her belongings.

Being here gives you an eerie feeling, right in the pit of your stomach. Just as you were about to turn around and back out, you notice a black, open duffle bag on her bed. Inside it is some sort of object, bright and pink, in some sort of packing with a big red ‘XXX’ on it. It’s hard to miss. As much as you wanted to back out of the room, you find yourself closing the door behind you before making your way over to the bag.

Curiosity got the best of you, making you take it out of the bag to inspect it further. Still brand new in its plastic packaging, the object is slightly bent, with some weird looking rubbery bits that rib around it.

‘Thrusting Rabbit Vibrator – Adult Toy’.

You’ve never seen one in person, only hearing about it on shows you watched that aired in the early 2000’s. It’s... a sex toy – a vibrator to be exact. You flip it over, searching for the instructions.

‘Insert, turn on, and enjoy.’

Seems simple enough. The desire to open it, to know what it feels like grows stronger. You nibble at your bottom lip, trying to talk yourself out of your ludicrous urges. Your heart quickens, thumping violently against your ribcage. Deep down, you know what you’re doing is wrong, invading Trudy’s personal space like this, even worse that she wasn’t here to defend her space.

The sound of a doorknob rattling makes your whole body jolt. You gasp quietly, turning around and hiding the toy behind your back. Norm opens the door, jaw clenched, clearly uncomfortable to be looking in his late girlfriend’s quarters. He scans you up and down, a confused look washing over his face.

“y/n? Why are you in... Trudy’s room?” he asks, not wanting to say her name.

“Sorry. I – I didn’t even realise I came in here. I was going to my room...” you babble nervously, realising that you’ll have to reveal more to make it believable, “...I – uh, felt left out, and I was too caught up in my head. Sorry, Norm. I was about to leave.” you apologize again, knowing this room is off limits.

“It’s alright, kid. Sorry if I sounded upset.” He says, expression softening.

You laugh a little to lighten the mood. “Not a kid anymore, Norm.” you shoot him a smile before shuffling out beside him, walking backwards so he doesn’t see the toy behind your back.

“My bad, y/n.” He closes the door, locking it with his key. He turns around, to see you shuffling away.

“Hey. If you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. Alright?” he projects his voice as you walk swiftly away, heart thumping in your chest.

You quickly shift the toy to your chest as you spin around and raise a hand in the air. “Alright, Norm! Thanks!”

----

You sit on your bed, staring at the bright pink object sitting on your table, already plotting how exactly you’re going to return this thing. It’s going to be difficult, seeing that he locked the door. It would have to involve some sort of conniving plan to steal his keys whilst he’s sleeping, or something. It honestly seemed like too much, for something so... useless to him.

It wouldn’t even matter right? He’s not going to use it... Would he even realize that it’s missing? You wonder, knowing he’ll probably never step foot in that room again.

You won’t lie, a part of you wanted to know what it feels like. Not only that, but this is probably the only time in your existence that you’d have your hands on such a thing. You’d never ever been able to make yourself climax before, even to your lewd thoughts of Neteyam.

Maybe this would do the trick?

It dawns on you that all you’re doing is trying to convince yourself to use the damn thing. You stand up let loose a loud huff, frustrated with yourself. You pace back and forth in your room, burning a line into the floor with your feet, looking back at the stupid little toy every so often.

You stop dead in your tracks.

“Fuck it.” you mumble, rushing over to the table to rip open the packaging.

Finally releasing the toy from its plastic-y restraints, you bring it close to your face to examine it.

“Whoa.” you mutter, looking at all of the little nubs and ridges on the tip of it, whilst the rest of it is like a smooth silicone.

Grabbing the packaging, you fumble with it a bit before flipping it over once again to read the instructions some more.

‘Clean before and after use. Charge before use. Waterproof. Use on clit or insert inside.’

You make your way over to the bathroom and wash it with soap and water before putting it to charge. Meanwhile, you take a quick shower, thinking about Neteyam the entire time to get you in the mood.

----

“Is she upset with me?” Neteyam asks Kiri, concerned that he’s ultimately ruined the friendship.

“No... I don’t know, Nete. Maybe? She can tell that you’re avoiding her at this point. Just. Go and talk to her, okay?” Kiri encourages her brother.

“Talk to her? And say what? I know we are a different species, but I have feelings for you?” he narrows his eyes, shaking his head slightly.

“Yeah. Actually. Exactly that.” Kiri says, scoffing and nodding her head.

“Really?” Neteyam looks at her with a blank stare.

“Yes, really. Just go.” Kiri pushes him out of the tent. “She didn’t even tell us she was leaving... Tell her that I’m sorry, too.”

“Agh. Alright.” Neteyam walks willingly out of the tent, making his way to the lab, eclipse in full throttle.

----

You brush and braid your hair, keeping it out of your face whilst you brush your teeth. Instead of getting into your pyjamas, you opt to stay wrapped in your towel, seeing that you were going to get naked anyways.

“Let’s do this.” you try psyching yourself up, making your way over to the charging object.

You unplug it and fidget with the button. Pressing the button, it immediately lights up and starts vibrating, making a loud buzzing noise. Startled, you quickly press the button once more, turning it off and throwing it on the bed.

Heart thumping viciously in your chest, you feel the flesh between your legs begin to pulse. All sorts of emotions were coursing through you all at once – anxiety, arousal, guilt. You decide that you need to get in the right head space to do this.

You unwrap your towel, resting it on the end of your bed. Crawling on the bed, you get comfortable, propping up your back against stacked pillows and spreading your legs. The cool, crisp air blows against your naked body, making your nipples hard and body shiver.

You reach for the vibrator, allowing it to brush against your inner thigh before placing it on the softness of your plump lips. Closing your eyes, you imagine Neteyam, standing in front of you with nothing but his loincloth on. His stripes are so prominent, much like his jawline and chiselled torso. His muscular chest stood strong, just like his thick biceps and brawny core.

Waist, lean yet robust, back, broad and sturdy – he was everything a girl could dream of. Nothing less than that of a mighty warrior. You feel your clit jump at the mere thought of his torso. As you make your way down his body you chew on your bottom lip, biting back a soft moan.

Breath becoming raggedy, you press the button with a shaky finger, jolting when the overpowering vibration touches your clit. You imagine his lower half – his thick, muscular, toned thighs, coated in a thin layer of sheen from sweat. Feeling yourself heat up from your lewd thoughts, you press the humming vibrator against your clit, trying to find a good spot.

Squeezing your eyes even tighter, you melt into the sheer power of this toy, relaxing your tensed leg muscles. You make your way in between his thighs and imagine his prominent v-lines, that have scant, dark hair – musky with his natural scent – peaking over the band of his loincloth.

Chest rising and falling from your heavy pants, your leg muscles tense again as that familiar hot feeling pools in your chest – you’re getting close. You wet your lips with a quick swipe of your tongue, before parting them to allow little, soft moans to evade your mouth. You find your hips chasing your orgasm, bucking slightly against the length of the toy as you coat it in a thin layer of your wetness.

Working your way to his most vulnerable area, you imagine him hooking his thumbs underneath the band of his loincloth, gently tugging it down his hips. The more he tugs at the thin cloth, the more the thick, blue base of his cock is revealed. Your brows pinch at the sight, you wanted to know what it felt like, if you could even hold it with one hand.

The image of him brings you closer and closer, the heat pooling in your chest overflowing into the rest of your body, forming knots in the pit of your stomach. You always had a hard time with this stage, never getting past it – never making yourself cum.

“Oh, Nete!” you moan, “Make me cum, please.” You quiet down to a whisper, gritting your teeth as you arch your back.

He tugs the material down to his upper thighs, exposing the little dark blue stripes on his thick, veiny member.

“F-fuck!” you squeak, your head sinking deeper into your pillow as your toes dig into the softness of the bed.

He slips the loincloth down to his knees, revealing his throbbing, veiny cock, letting it slap against his belly, leaving a little wet spot as evidence. It’s so heavy, that even though he’s rock-hard, it rests, sheathed and hung, against his thigh.

----

“Thanks, Norm. I apologize again, for coming so late. I just... really need to make it up to her.” Neteyam bows his head quickly, thankful that he let him in the lab after hours.

“Don’t sweat it. She told me earlier she was feeling a little down. Just let yourself out when you’re finished talking, cool?” Norm responds, having more trust in Neteyam than the rest of them.

“I will.” Neteyam says, crouching slightly to make his way down the hallway to your door.

He looks at your door, reading the weird figures above the peep hole, ‘34’.

Three – four, that is hers, yes?

“Oh, Nete!” he hears your faint, muffled cry.

His ears perk up, heartbeat raising.

Why is she calling for me? Is she okay?

“F-fuck!” he hears your soft groan, hushed by some sort of whirring noise. 

Oh shit. She sounds like she’s in pain. Maybe cramps?

Neteyam wastes not another second and bursts the door open, ready to help you in any way that he could. Instead, he’s met with the sight of you on the bed – naked – touching yourself.

----

You can’t hear the doorknob rattle over the buzz of your toy, and even if you could, you were too focused on trying to experience your first orgasm. It feels so good, it really felt like you were about to explode. Your breaths become shallow, and quick as you climb and climb towards your peak. All you can focus on, is Neteyam coming closer and closer to you, cock swinging at each step.

“Holy shit.” Neteyam breathes, chest rising and falling quickly, heart thumping violently in his chest. Eyes wide, brows raised, and mouth open, he watches you for a second too long, unable to take his eyes off the carnal sight in front of him.

“Shit.” You gasp, body practically curling up into a ball as you and yank the towel over your body and the toy. “What are you doing here?!” you shout at him, wrapping the towel around you properly as you shuffle your back against the wall.

He immediately drops his gaze, blinking repeatedly as he turns away from you, resting both hands on his forehead. “I am so sorry, y/n. I – I should have knocked. I’m sorry, I was just... coming to talk to you about something.” He babbles, gulping down a wad of his spit.

“About what?! So late?!” you shout, cheeks stained red from embarrassment.

You caught a quick glimpse of the bulge in his loincloth before he turned around. Your heart is thumping even faster, even harder. You just moaned his name.

Shit. Shit. Did he hear me moan his name? Fuck. How long has he been here?

“I’m sorry I upset you. Really. I-it can wait. I will be going now. I am so sorry, y/n.” he apologizes through raggedy breaths, feeling his own arousal.

He quickly leaves the room, closing the door tightly behind him, feeling like he just invaded your privacy – big time. He takes a deep breath, trying to steady his heart before walking away. You do the same, taking deep breaths to calm down and figure out what the fuck just happened.

Your hand rests on your chest, feeling the thud of your vicious heartbeats. He does the same, hand on his chest, leaning back against the door as he tries to catch his breath. He wants nothing more than to just go back in the room and tell you how he feels, especially now that he knows you think about him when you touch yourself.

It’s the same for you, wanting so badly for him to just burst back in your room, and confess his undying love for you. But you knew that was too far-fetched, to have the eldest son of Olo’eyktan love a simple human girl like you.

Then, why was he... hard?

You stare at the door, waiting to see if it’d open once more. Neteyam’s on the other side, debating with himself whether he should go back in there and come clean. Shaking his head, he attempts to snap out of his deep thoughts – you were naked, and obviously in the middle of something intimate. If he went back in there that’s just him invading your privacy even more. Deciding against staying, he starts making his way down the hallway.

He makes it halfway down the hallway before he stops dead in his tracks, ears perking up and expression softening.

But she said my name, right? He thinks, turning his head to look back on the ‘34’ on your door.

“Agh.” He growls, snapping his head back down to look at his feet. “Fuck it.” he turns around, storming to the door once more.

Surely, if he came all this way, at this time of night to talk to you, then it must be important. Perhaps, important enough to involve his feelings about you? Either way, it’s gone too far now. You may as well come clean yourself.

Making your way over to your door, you reach out to grab the doorknob, only to see it turn on its own. The door swings open, a gust of air blowing the loose stands of hair out of your face. Where the knob once was, is now where Neteyam’s loincloth rests, almost bursting at its seams.

Directly in your line of sight is his cross shaped ribcage, brutally rising and falling from his heavy pants. Your eyes work their way up his torso, past his muscular chest and carved collarbones, to the stripes on his neck and the flush of his cheeks. Your eyes lock with his amber eyes, searching once another in the silence.

He came back.

She was coming to get me.

You smile in unison, coming to the same realization – there was something deeper going on here.

“Hi.” You breathe.

“Hey.” He whispers.

“You wanted to talk?” you ask, hand tightly grasping the overlap of your towel.

“Yes.” He glances quickly at you gripping onto your towel, before looking away from your chest all together. He wants to be a gentleman about this. “Do you want to talk?”

“Yes.” You say shyly, also noticing his shy demeanour.

He looks back down at you, scanning your facial expression to ensure you were being serious. He crouches under the doorframe and enters your room, walking over to the bed.

Your eyes follow his every move, his every step. “You can sit.” You say quietly, finally shifting your gaze to your feet. “What did you want to talk about?”

He seats himself at the end of your bed, elbows resting on his knees and head hanging low. “I wanted to tell you something, y/n. To tell you my true feelings.”

You heart quickens once more, hearing the words you’ve been dreaming to hear. Now that he’s sitting on your bed, you’re face to face. You take slow steps towards him, standing directly in front of him.

“And what might those be, Nete?” you ask, using two dainty fingers under his chin to have him look at you.

He stares deeply into your eyes, furrowing his brows slightly as a puzzled look grows on his face. 

How do I even say this?

“I – I...” he stutters, relaxing his brows and swallowing his spit, “Oel ngati kameie” [I see you]. he confesses, cupping your hand on his chin with his.

You can’t fight the smile creeping on your face. Not only did he confess his romantic feelings for you, but he did it in na’vi. He sees you, not as a little human girl stuck on his planet, but as his equal – his mate.

“Oel ngati kameie, ‘teyam.” You repeat his words, letting him know you feel the same way.

A grin plasters his face, causing his ears to perk up. He pulls you in closer by the hand, situating your tiny frame in between his meaty thighs.

“I have felt this way for some time, y/n.” he continues, inches away from your face, “Since we were kids, playing hide and seek in the trees...” he looks down at your lips, “...since I first lay eyes on you.”

Staring at his lips too, you nod, unable to respond with words.

“I do not care, if we do not ‘work’ together... I cannot ignore my feelings for you anymore.” he places your hand against his warm chest, as he inches even closer to your face. “Feel it... My heart, it beats for you.”

Feeling his heartbeat against your palm, you wrap your dainty fingers around his thumb, gently tugging down your towel with your other hand to expose your cleavage. Inhaling sharply, you place his hand flat against your chest.

“Mine too, Nete.” You finally whisper under your breath. “I-I feel the same. At first sight.” You mumble, now feeling his hot, short breaths against your lips.

Inexperienced lips crash into yours, hungry and eager for your reciprocation. You kiss him fervently, waiting for this moment for practically your entire existence. Bodies pressing together, feeling the warmth radiating from one another’s skin, you fumble with the knot of your towel. A hand stops you, keeping you from untying the loosely wrapped material around your body, he shakes his head side to side.

“Are you sure?” he breathes into your mouth between wet kisses. “I did not...” he kisses you again, “...come back for that, my love”.

“Mhm” you mumble into his mouth, moving his hand away to fiddle with the woven part of your towel once more. You stop and pull away suddenly, coming to the realization that maybe he doesn’t want this. “Do you...want this?” you whisper, resting your forehead against his.

He chuckles breathily, smiling wide before pulling you back in to kiss you again. “How could I not?” he mumbles between sloppy kisses.

Smiling into his mouth, your teeth click together as you feel the pink tinge on your cheeks turn even brighter – even hotter. Breaths heavy and uneven, you feel the thud of your collective heartbeat as you allow your towel fall to the ground. Immediately, he pulls away, looking up and down at your human body.

“Yuey [beautiful]” he says out of breath, mesmerized by the curves and softness of your body.

Allowing his eyes to linger at your chest, he looks up at you briefly, silently asking for your consent to touch your breasts. You nod, pulling his hand up to the soft flesh on your chest before meeting your lips with his once more. His hand completely envelopes your breast, kneading it as gently as he can. His thumb brushes past your hard nipple, playing with it ever so slightly.

Having someone else touch you in this way makes your body shudder. It’s your first time, your first kiss, your first – everything.

A warm tongue presses against your lips, asking for permission to enter your mouth. You grant it, parting your lips and meeting your tongue with his, allowing them to dance with one another in your mouth.

His movements become eager – more impatient. He kneads your breast a little rougher, now gently rolling your small nipple between his calloused fingers. Your body jolts from the sudden pleasure, and a soft moan escapes your mouth into his.

“Feels good, yes?” he returns a moan, making sure you’re okay.

“Yes, teyam.” You nod, moving his hand to your other breast.

Repeating his movements, he gently rolls your nipple whilst kneading your breast. It feels so good, that you can’t help but pant into his mouth, allowing your hands to feel his chest, too.

It’s just as you imagined, his chest is hard yet soft, his skin smooth yet rough, like that of a warrior. Both your hands could fit comfortably on just one of his pecks – his size in comparison to you was no joke. You feel his hand snake around your waist and up your back, calloused fingers taking in the suppleness of your skin.

“So soft” he mumbles, moving his gentle kisses down your neck.

“You, too” you mumble back, moving your hands up to his broad shoulders.

“Not nearly as soft as you, my sevin [pretty].” he smiles into your neck, before planting kisses down to your chest. “May I?” he asks, brushing his lips against your breast.

“Yes. Always yes.” you reassure him, willing to let him do anything he wants to you.

He takes your nipple into his mouth, as well as most of your breast. He suckles as gently as he can, afraid he may nip you with his fangs. Your hands slide from his shoulders, up his neck to his head, where your fingers intertwine with his braids. Using it as leverage, you press him closer into your chest, letting him know he’s making you feel good.

To your surprise, he allows his hands to fall to your hips, pulling you on top of him. It causes him to unlatch from your breast, moving his wet lips up to your collarbones. Your bare pussy is pressed against his bulge, dampening the material that covers it.

“Neteyam” you call for him quietly, feeling so good from his soothing touches.

“Yes, my love?” he responds, pulling away from your shoulders to look in your eyes.

“Can I see... you, too?” you ask shyly, breaking eye contact to glance at his soddened loincloth.

His eyes follow yours, seeing that the thin cloth is soaked. Shooting his gaze back up yours.

“You’re so wet.” he whispers, so enthralled with you that he forgets what you asked of him. He looks at your reddened face, realizing that you’re waiting for his response. “Sorry. What did you say?”

“I want to see you, too.” you repeat, dropping your hands to tug at the band of his loincloth.

Smiling, he leans back, supporting his torso with his arms behind him on the bed. You trail your eyes down from his face to his pelvis, seeing the small knot at the side of his loincloth. Fumbling with the knot, your shaky hands try their best to untie the material. He notices, resting his hand over yours before untying it himself.

“No need to be nervous, y/n. We will not do anything you are not ready for, okay?” he reassures you, untying the knot easily.

“Okay.” you nod, scooting back on his lap to make space for his loincloth to come off.

You slowly move the band down, exposing his deep v-lines and scant hair. You swallow your spit before taking it off completely, revealing his huge, thick cock. Your eyes bulge at the sight, eyebrows raising slightly as your mouth opens wide enough for a sharp breath of air to pass through your lips.

“Oh shit.” You pant quietly, surprised because it’s much bigger than you imagined.

The tip of his cock touches the middle of his thigh, the length and thickness of your forearm. Panicked eyes meet his, scared that he’d rip you in two.

“What is it?” he asks, concerned that you’re uncomfortable.

“It’s – you’re, y-you are too big for me.” your lips tremble as the words slip out.

His brows draw together, eyes squinting slightly – a puzzled expression contorts his face. He cups your cheek, searching your eyes for some sort of clarification. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t think – uh. I-I don’t think that will fit inside of me, Nete.” you stutter, feeling too shy to say the words.

Neteyam can’t help but laugh a little. “Ma’ yawne [beloved]...” he uses his thumb to rub your cheek, “...you need not to worry about that. I do not want to do anything that will hurt you.”

The words bring serenity to your chest, making the uneven thud of your heartbeat rhythmic. As much as you want to share that level of intimacy with him, you’ve only been able to fit two of your own fingers inside of you. You lean into his touch, rubbing your face against his palm as a smile plasters your face.

Always so protective over you.

Turns out, he was only half-hard. You watch in awe as his member grows, lifting from his thigh to his belly, all on its own. Neteyam looks away to hide his flushed cheeks. You notice and take this as your sign to touch him for the first time. Wrapping your slim fingers around his girth, you find that your fingertips can’t touch each other. His pelvis shifts suddenly from the warmth of your touch.

“Am I making the mighty warrior blush?” you hum, wrapping your other hand around the base of his cock.

His eyes fall onto his crotch, watching as your hands stroke his shaft. He looks back up at you, directly into your eyes.

“Maybe.” his voice is low, and deep.

You never thought you’d even be in this position, stroking the cock of the man of your dreams. Even worse, him staring at you with sultry eyes and a husky voice, telling you that you’re making him nervous.

“Can I touch you, here?” he asks, sitting up fully and resting his hand on your inner thigh.

“Didn’t I say ‘yes, always yes’?” you smile at him, shifting your hips to allow for better access.

Wrapping one arm around his neck, you hold onto him tightly for support as his hand cups your pussy, making you gasp quickly. You feel his finger part your wet lips, searching for the bundle of nerves at the top of your slit. You bury your face into the crook of his neck just as he finds your clit, rubbing circles into it with his slick coated finger.

Hot, quick pants evade your parted lips, blowing directly onto his neck. His lips plant kisses on your shoulder, tongue playing in the dip of your collarbone. You stroke his cock one handed, trying your hardest to provide enough friction for him to feel good too.

“Is this, okay?” he asks breathlessly, moving his finger down to your entrance.

“Yes, my ‘teyam.” you mumble into his neck, bracing yourself for his thick finger to enter you.

“Let me know if it hurts, my love.” he whispers, slowly sliding his finger inside of you.

“Oh! Ugh.” A strained moan is muffled in his neck, as you feel this finger stretch you out.

You shift your hand from his cock and wrap it around his neck, holding on as tightly as you can. His singular finger easily feels like two of yours, not to mention the fact that they’re much lengthier.

“Does it hurt?” he whispers into your ear.

“No. I’m okay, teyam.” you mumble, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling.

“Good. I am going to move now.” he warns, curling his finger directly into your sweet spot.

You gasp loudly, feeling the pressure already build in your bladder. It feels amazing – better than you’ve ever felt with your own fingers. Your hips buck on their own, grinding into the finger that impales you.

Little, sweet mewls escape your open mouth, beads of saliva dripping onto his chest. You’re so focused on the way he’s making you feel you didn’t even realise the volume of your whines and whimpers until he makes a comment about it.

“I like your little noises, y/n.” he says, pumping his finger in and out of you. “Are you... close?”

“I – I don’t know, I’ve never, c-cum before.” Your breath hitches, feeling your chest and stomach tighten.

Your legs begin to tremble, like they’ll give out underneath you at any moment. “Oh, Nete!” you moan his name, catching a glimpse of his ears perking up from the sound of his name rolling off your tongue.

His hips buck, too, thrusting his cock against your stomach. He’s losing it, all from hearing the sweet sounds that come from your mouth. Pulling away from his neck, you look down at his glossy cockhead poking at your stomach, then back up to look into his amber eyes.

“This is where you’d be... inside me.” you breathe, shifting a hand off his neck to press a finger under your sternum, where his tip touches.

“Whoa. Y-you are so, so tiny, y/n. I’m so scared that I will hurt you.” Neteyam confesses, rutting his hips against you.

“You won’t. I trust you, teyam.” you pant, feeling your legs wobble.

Your heads bump together, as your now both grinding into one another. He feels your weak legs shake and snakes his free hand around your back, supporting it as he lays you down on the bed.

He catches sight of the bright pink toy near your head, eyes widening.

“What is that? Where did you get it from?” he asks, still fingering you.

“Ah... haah, I – I kind of found it.” you pant raggedly, “Ngh! It’s a – oh fuck!” you moan, feeling a new sensation in your pelvis grow.

“It’s a ‘oh fuck’?” Neteyam chuckles, picking up speed.

“Neteyam! That feels weird.” You moan, eyes pooling with water from how good it feels.

“Weird, bad? Or weird, good?” he asks, slowing down his pace.

“Good! Good!” you shout, not wanting him to stop.

“Ah. Good.” He smiles, picking back up the speed, “Now, what is that thing?”

“It’s – it’s a vibrator! Fuck. Don’t stop, Nete.” you whisper desperately, arching your back against the bed. “I think – I think I’m close!” you let loose a strained moan.

“I want to taste it. Can I taste you?” he asks, already making his way in between your legs.

“O-okay teyam” you whine quietly, spreading your legs as wide as they can go.

His hot mouth engulfs your throbbing clit, the flat of his tongue shifting from side to side. “Good?” he mumbles into your slit.

“Mmmn! Fuck, yes!” you moan loudly, bucking your hips into his face.

He grabs your hand and places it on his head, you weave your fingers through his braids.

“Another... another finger!” you beg, feeling the knots in your stomach quickly unravel.

He shakes his head side to side, “’til hurt” he mumbles once more, picking up the speed of both his tongue and finger.

“Please! ‘m gonna cum, Nete!” you plead, toes curling into the sheet beneath you.

He gently slides another digit inside you, feeling the tightness of your cunt clenching around it. You yelp out, feeling a hint of pain among the waves of pleasure that crash through you. He pulls his finger back out, lifting his head up, causing your hand to fall from his head.

“See? I told you. I hurt you, didn’t I?” he asks through knitted brows, looking down at your glistening cunt sucking in his finger.

“Only a little, I’m fine teyam.” you reassure him, wiggling your hips back down onto his finger.

He clicks his tongue, catching a glimpse of the vibrator.

“Let us try this... vee-bray-tor?” he says the word slowly, as he reaches for the pink object beside your head.

He presses the button causing the thing to vibrate in his hand, shock plastering his face from the sensation of it buzzing against his skin. Your hips jolt as he presses the toy against your clit, sending shockwaves up your spine.

“Ohh, Neteyam!” you moan loudly, the feeling overwhelms you. “’ts too much...” your hips shift away from the toy, as you try to reach for his head once more.

He chuckles, switching the toy off and throwing it on the floor. “Prefer me?” he asks huskily, pinning down your leg as he leans in to suck on your clit once more.

“Mmmn, mhm!” you mumble, pushing your cunt into his face.

He closes his eyes, tuning in to the filthy noises that evade your mouth, drawing circles into your clit with the tip of his tongue. Neteyam touches himself, finally hearing the sounds that he’s been imagining every time he pleasured himself.

“Neteyam. I’m so fucking close.” you pant quickly.

He picks up the speed, now knowing where exactly feels good for you, and targets those sensitive areas. He rubs his own cock, beads of precum oozing from his tip lubricating his hand, allowing for fast strokes. He’s huffing hot breaths through his nose onto your lower stomach, giving you goosebumps.

“Holy fuck... R-right there” You let loose breathy moans, feeling the swell of your sweet spot pushing against his finger, as he curls it even harder and faster into you.

“Mmmhm” he moans into your clit, looking directly at you, encouraging you with his eyes to cum for him.

Bucking his hips into his hand, he feels his own orgasm quickly approaching. His brows tighten, feel his own knots unravel quickly in his stomach. He grunts into your cunt, finally squeezing his eyes shut as his thrusts become shorter.

You look between your legs, watching his aroused expression, now realizing that he’s pleasuring himself. It makes you feel even hotter – even hornier, sending you over the edge.

“Oh – oh shit, Neteyam! I think I’m – I’m cumming!” you cry out, shoving his face into your pussy.

You feel your cunt go into a frenzy, throbbing and pulsating feverishly around his finger.

His grunts turn into guttural groans, as he tries to concentrate on making you finish while his warm cum slowly pools into his hand. You push away his head, now feeling overstimulated from his relentless licks, for him to sit up quickly, grabbing his mask in a hurry to suck in a deep, long breath.

“You taste sweet, y/n.” he moans breathlessly, gently pulling his finger out of you. He sucks his finger, savouring the flavour of your slick.

Your cheeks heat up, feeling shy to see him taste you on his finger like that.

“That was... the first time.” you mumble wide eyed, breath hitching from you coming down from your high.

He smiles.

“I know. I’m happy I could do that for you, my love.” he projects his voice as he crouches under your bathroom doorframe.

He quickly cleans himself up so he can tend to you, coming back with a dampened cloth.

“Feeling okay?” he asks quietly, wiping the slick off your thighs, working his way up to the soft flesh between your legs.

“Yes, I’m... more than okay.” You hum softly, chest rising and falling as you try to take a full breath, feeling his tender, gentle touches as he cleans you up.

“Want to shower?” He questions, hanging the cloth against the back of your chair.

You shake your head weakly from side to side, puffy eyes blinking lethargically.

“What about clothes?” he makes his way over to your dresser, resting his hand on the top drawer’s handle, “tis a cold night.”

“Mm... rather you keep me warm.” you blabber, resting your eyes for a minute.

“My pleasure, yawne [beloved].” He smiles.

Tucking one hand under your neck, and the other under the back of your knees he lifts you up, moving you further up in your bed.

“Tired?” he chuckles softly, crawling into bed next to you.

“Mhmm.” You purr lengthily, trying to open your eyes as you scoot back onto him. “Don’t leave, Nete.”

“Alright, my love. I won’t. I will be right here. Get some rest.” He hums, pressing his warm naked body against yours.

He covers you with the blanket first, and then himself with whatever was remaining. He’s too tall for the blanket anyway, as well as the bed, honestly – he’s too tall for this whole place. Legs jutting off the end of the bed, he wraps his arm around you, pulling you even closer to him.

Heavy eyes finally closing, you snuggle into your love, gripping a single finger on the hand are rests on your stomach. He unhooks the mask from around his neck, and straps it to his face, so that he, too, can close his eyes and drift into a deep sleep.

----

Everyone was accepting of your relationship with Neteyam. Surprisingly, his parents were both expecting it at some point, and had already taken the time to come to terms with it – well, mostly Neytiri. Jake was always welcoming of you. Kiri and Lo’ak were happy you two finally hit things off. Everyone, including the members of the clan, could tell that you both had feelings for one another. Even Norm and Max were elated for the two of you, both knowing that there was something more going on between you guys. Norm knew that night would be the night for the both of you to make things official, which is why he granted Neteyam access afterhours.

One day, Norm and Max approach you and Neteyam in your room, knocking quietly on your already open door.

“Y/n. Neteyam.” they say monotonously in unison.

You both look at them, concern growing in your chest after seeing their serious expressions.

“What is it?” you manage to get out, holding Neteyam’s hand tightly, thinking something horrible has happened.

Their expressions soften, a smile creeping on both their faces before they burst out in laughter.

“Just joking with ya.” Max laughs, looking at Norm.

“Yeah. We come bearing good news, actually.” Norm adds, quickly glancing at Max before looking at you once more.

“Good news? What is it?” Neteyam asks, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb, calming you down.

“Well, it’s not like you guys don’t already know. You can think of it as a ‘mating’ gift, ya know, seeing that na’vi don’t have weddings.” Max babbles, straying from the point.

“You’re getting your own avatar, y/n.” Norm announces happily, knowing that this is your biggest dream yet.

“What?! Are you serious?” you shriek, jumping to your feet, eyes flickering between the two of them.

Neteyam is still holding your hand tightly, now standing with you, wrapping his tail around your leg. Ever since you revealed your feelings to one another, Neteyam has rarely left your side, always making sure he’s near you – protecting you. You were his mate now, nothing less.

“Yep. She’ll be ready in about four months.” Max smiles, proud that he could pull the strings to get his favourite girl her own avatar.

“Oh, Max. Norm.” your voice cracks, tears welling up in your eyes. “Thank you, guys. I can’t even tell you how much I appreciate this.” You walk swiftly towards them to give them both a big hug.

Neteyam reluctantly lets go of your hand and leg, but follows closely behind you, towering over the two men. He wraps his tail around your leg once more, always needing to touch you in some way.

You hug them both, tippy toeing to squeeze their necks as hard as you can – to show how much you really appreciate what their doing for you.

“Thank you, Max, Norm.” Neteyam says, smiling and bowing his head at them both.

“Our pleasure, guys.” Max and Norm chant together. “C’mere Neteyam.” Norm smiles, pulling Neteyam into the hug.

Photo creds: ?? let me know!!

Tags:@jakexneytiri @sweethoneycn @deadgirl02 @keijis-wifey @pandorxx @swiftielivvie @teyamfangirl @avatar-lover @sooebear @vanillawhale @bxnnywriting @athenachu @trashboat-the-raccoon @avaixe @qweq-6802 @rodeosayu @girlpostingsposts @erinloversworld @agelsully @zetey @raaaaainn  @eywascall @yawneneteyam @weirdomcu @pandxrastars @eichenhouseproperty @camgod78 @kibiscribbles @bedofpearls @kurtsworld096 @audrinawf @otukirey @deexdeez @c78r @bby-bo @neteyamsmate4life @wheniseeyouigogonutz @sullymenrhot @jakescumdump @erenjaegerwifee @eywaheardyou @saturnheartz @lovekeeho @afro-hispwriter @lovemyavatar @rainbowsocks @eddiesluvt @etherialblackrose @sleepilysworld @fezandashgirlfriend @kahlowy @babyymeme @lovekeeho @ilove444sworld @kaixiio @becksimagination @ameliestsblog @theycallmesia @boooogieman

[your-unfriendlyghost]

I have two things to ask:

1.-Can we be friends?

2.-Do you have any Outsiders headcanons (or any that you haven't submitted yet)?

I mean sure?? Idk who you are since you’re on anon, so not REALLY, but I’m always down to talk!

2. Yeah lol- tons. Too many. Here’s a few (okay like 25 oops) off the top of my head lol, some serious/angsty and some lighthearted/kinda stupid without any real order. (Lotta ‘em are about Steve tbh -there’s so little to him in canon that I have the freedom to hc pretty much whatever I want)

Steve Randle’s nearsighted and has no idea, which is why he’s literally always squinting. (I’ve had that one for like months but only recently mentioned it on here lol.) Steve thinks his vision is completely normal

Dally and Sylvia genuinely cared for each other, but they were both so horrible at having healthy emotions that they just made each other worse. In a bad way, not a fun way.

When Steve gets kicked out, sometimes he hangs with Johnny in the lot. They don’t really talk about anything important like their shared experiences of having lousy parents. Instead they talk about cars, girls, music, school…lighthearted stuff. Sometimes Johnny will find Steve crying, which he never mentions- he’ll just sit down as per usual, which Steve appreciates. Steve almost never finds Johnny crying though. Johnny doesn’t cry much.

Okay tangent- I love how Steve and Johnny are low-key foils. Like Steve always seems tough but then cries when pushed to his limit, while Johnny always seems skittish until he’s under a bunch of pressure- in which case he suddenly is confident. (Not necessarily thriving obviously, but confident yk? Like grinning while saving those kids in the fire.) I know SE Hinton probably didn’t intend that at all, but it’s just such an interesting detail to me. One of these days I’ll put it into words better

Johnny’s jeans-jacket is a hand-me-down from either Steve or Two-Bit. (I can’t decide which lol) (obviously Dally would make sense too, but honestly I think it’d add more depth to flesh out Johnny’s relationships with the other members of the gang)

After the events of the book, Two-Bit starts hanging around the Curtis’s place even more. At first the gang assumes he’s trying to lighten the mood. It’s only after he gets sent to the cooler for a month due to drunk driving that they realize he was actually hanging around so much because he was trying to keep his kid sister from seeing him so drunk…

Two-Bit likes to joke that he keeps failing junior year so that him and his sister can graduate together. Which is a very bad idea since his sister is a year younger than Ponyboy.

Sodapop often feels like he’s only good for looking pretty and not all that useful or interesting otherwise. He likes himself, but when he stops to think about it too much, he starts to wonder if he really has anything going for him at all

My H/C for Steve’s home life is that his Mom is sick w/ like cancer or something. Before she got sick, Steve’s life was pretty alright for an eastsider- he and his dad fought, but they always made up for the most part. They weren’t perfect, but they loved each other. But after she got sick, she wasn’t there to mediate between Steve and his Dad anymore, and the fighting got worse and worse. And then Steve’s dad started drinking more and it was pretty downhill from there. Steve’s Dad still loves him, but sometimes Steve wishes that he didn’t. If he didn’t, then he could hate him. But his dad does love him, so he can’t get himself to.

Steve and Dally taught Johnny to drive when they were all like fourteen-fifteen-ish. Johnny is a very reckless driver. He loves speeding.

Johnny also loves fast roller coasters and stuff.

Dally doesn't ‘cuz he’s low-key scared of heights- he likes riding broncos and rodeos, but put him at the top of a roller coaster and he’s convinced that it’s gonna break and he’s gonna die. He pretends he doesn’t mind. The only people who know he’s scared of them are Johnny, and before she died, Mrs. Curtis.

Steve has a napoleon complex. Johnny, who is shorter than him by a few inches, likes to bully him for it sometimes

Ponyboy and Cherry don’t interact much in the school year after the book, but in the summer after, they start to hang out. Eventually they become pretty close. They fangirl over Paul Newman together

Ponyboy still doesn’t let Cherry read his theme though until years later

Marcia and Two-Bit re-meet a few months after the book. (Two-Bit is really scared that she’s embarrassed to be dating him, and Marcia is really scared that he’s embarrassed to be dating her. Neither of them are embarrassed. They both adore each other.)

Two-Bit likes to watch Marcia barrel racing. One time while he’s there, he runs into Ponyboy watching Cherry barrel race and immediately tells everyone much to Pony’s chagrin

Evie knows a little bit about cars, and she sometimes helps out at the DX during summers. Steve is so whipped for her lol (and Soda too Steve has two hands)

Evie and Sylvia are besties, but Steve and Sylvia hate each other. They act civil in front of Evie, but as soon as her back is turned they’re growling at each other like dogs. (Well Steve is. Sylvia just acts condescending as hell. Sometimes it goes over his head, so Steve knows she’s insulting him but isn’t sure what the insult is/means. Which makes Steve kinda want to kill her.)

Steve and Soda are low-key co-dependent. (Steve more so- Soda has his family at least, while to Steve, Soda and Evie are his whole world pretty much) It’s probably not super healthy, and both of them are vaguely aware of that, but are trying not to think about it too hard rn

Ponyboy’s friend group in high school consists of Curly Shepard, Mark Jennings, Scout Jenkins (from the tv show), and eventually, in her senior year, Cherry Valance. (There’s others too but those are the main ones.)

Pony dates Cathy Carlson for a while too, idk if they’re good for each other or not- I kinda like the idea of them being a sweet couple tbh, but no one else on here seems to care about them so I haven’t really explored the idea much lol

In a Dally lives au, Mark Jennings and Dally end up spending a bit of time together through Pony, and at some point they realize that they’re half-brothers lol. Mark is a deeply obnoxious little brother to have, and he drives Dally nuts on purpose. Weirdly I think Dally’s a relatively good influence on him, as much as someone like Dally can be. And Dally does care for Mark, though not as much as he cares for Johnny- Mark is, in his head, not exactly his responsibility.

Well I have (so many) more, but I think that’s enough for now lol. Point is, even though I haven’t drawn in a minute, I love these characters and their romanticized version of 1960s Tulsa so much and I think about them way too often lol

(dw once i get more into the swing of school I’ll be doin more art!)

[seeker-of-stories19]

Ghostsoap Shifter AU

- Ghost is a very large black Jaguar

- Soap is a border collie

- As if Ghost weren’t deadly enough already he often shifts on missions to take care of enemies

- Shifters are rare enough no one makes the connection and no one who sees him shifted ever lives

- Most people laugh at the rumors which are about as outrageous as any of the other ones surrounding Ghost

- Of course some people theorize that the rumors are more than that but there’s not really any way to prove it and they mostly don’t worry about it too much because it’s not something that makes him more vulnerable since he already stands out on the battlefield

- Soap is the opposite, absolutely everyone knows he’s a shifter and mostly no one cares since shifting into dogs, cats, bunnies, and other small animals is much more common than exotic animals

- It’s not much use on most missions but occasionally he’ll shift if there are kids around to cheer them up or heard them toward safety

- He also shifts to comfort his team members if someone is particularly upset, almost always Ghost but sometimes he does it for Gaz too and on a very rare occasion Price

- Walks all over the base in his dog form, usually following and herding Ghost around which absolutely baffles everyone because they act fairly professional otherwise

- Soap also looks ridiculously small next to him when shifted because he’s so big

- Gaz thinks the whole thing is hilarious and after he walks in on Soap in his dog form laying on Ghost on the couch in the 141 rec room one too many times he buys Soap a PTSD service dog vest as a joke

- Ghost gives him an absolute death glare but Soap beams at him

- He thinks it’s hilarious because he has admittedly been performing Service dog tasks for Simon on a semi regular basis for months at that point

- Doing deep pressure therapy and behavior interruption and grounding tasks for disassociation when Simon is struggling, especially after nightmares

- No one cares at all what they do on base because Price is pretty much in charge anyway and everyone else is too scared of Ghost to protest

- But when they go on leave Simon has a really hard time with his PTSD and Soap has the brilliant idea to put on the vest and tag along for some errands since he can’t exactly lay down on top of Simon in public in his human form if he gets overwhelmed

- It helps a ton and they’re able to go more places, sometimes with Soap tagging along just as a dog and sometimes bringing the vest as an emergency measure and shifting if Simon needs help or comfort

- Soap definitely does a bunch of research into different Psychiatric service dog tasks

- They both agree that Gaz can never know

- But it definitely makes Simon really happy even if he doesn’t want to admit it he ends up sending Soap different ideas of tasks that would help him

- He loves to see Soap find joy in his animal side

- His relationship with his shifter form is much more complex, no one else in his family was a shifter and he tried to hide it from them, even when his mom found out she tried really hard to hide it from his dad

- But eventually he found out when he scared Simon enough that he shifted into a little Jaguar cub

- From that moment on it was his life’s purpose to force Simon into shifting, and he loved to hurt and scare Simon when he was in that form especially as a kid because he liked the power of having control over such a dangerous animal

- By the time he was old enough to join the military he already had a whole separate set of scars on his jaguar form and he swore never to let that part of himself be hurt again

- Lied on his enlistment paperwork about his assigned gender at birth and about being a shifter

- The one thing he’s always liked about his shifter form is that it was always male, even when he was a kid and hadn’t been anywhere close to starting to transition

- He thinks it’s because shifter forms are supposed to be connected to you on a soul level and it helped him process his gender

- He wants to protect himself from any further harm to that part of himself and doesn’t want to find out if the rumors about how the military uses shifters is true

- The entire time he’s with Roba nothing scares him more than losing control of his emotions and shifting but eventually it happens when Roba cuts his face open and he reacts similarly to his dad

- Tests all kinds of horrible drugs on him and hurts him and makes him kill people in his jaguar form, by the time he’s buried he thinks he’s too injured to shift but he forces himself to do it one final time to dig himself out and escape

- After that he never wants to shift again but after hunting down Roba and killing all his men he transforms one final time to kill the man, tearing him apart desperate to show him that he didn’t truly master a jaguar the way he’d tried so many times

- He tries to shift after he gets shot by Sparks and Washington but for the first time instead of his body forcing it on him he can’t do it no matter how hard he tries

- He’s too late to save his family, if he’d been able to shift he could’ve saved them and the failure haunts him

- It’s years before he accidentally shifts again in front of Price after a particularly grueling mission and the man is beyond shocked to suddenly find his sergeant turning into a massive black Jaguar

- It’s takes months after that for Price to slowly help him break through his fears, he promises not to exploit his shifted form on missions but insists that he shift at least once a week for his own sanity, it’s dangerous to just ignore it

- He doesn’t have much choice but to agree but unlike for most shifters his form is no longer a safe place to hide or rest it’s just another reminder of the horrible things that have happened to him

- After that he stops caring about his Jaguar form and what happens to it, feels a sense of bitterness that this incredible ability couldn’t protect him and instead of shifting peacefully on his own he starts doing it on missions, just using it to kill as many hostiles as possible

- He knows the violence bothers Price on some level but the Captain never says anything when he rips people limb from limb with his teeth and transforms back covered in blood

- The first time Soap sees him shifted is in Las Almas when he brutally kills a few Shadows who tried to track them to Alejandro’s safe house

- Rudy is shocked and understandably cautious of the massive animal that just tore five people apart viciously but Soap looks reverent and almost excited

- Is very happy to realize there’s another shifter on the team

- Isn’t the slightest bit intimidated by Ghosts shifted form and before he can even shift back he’s touching his broad muscled shoulders, stroking the black fur gently, whispering a brief praise to him for protecting them

- He’s too shocked to shift back and Soap just casually leads him around to the side of the house where there’s a hose

- He m apologizes for the water being cold and calmly washes the blood out of Ghosts fur while he stands there in shock

- He shifts back and they go on with the mission but he has no idea what to think about what happened and can’t get it out of his head

- Soap regularly interacts with him in his shifted form during and after missions and it becomes routine for him to give him absentminded pets

- On the battlefield Soap is the only one who specifically utilizes his shifted form in mission plans

- He gains his own reputation for having a trained Jaguar and there are some truly ridiculous stories passed around base about it

- Slowly over time he finds it normal to spend time with Soap while shifted but never outside of missions

- When Soap starts asking him to shift around the base in their rooms or the rec room he can’t fathom doing it for himself

- The first time he shifts around Johnny outside of a mission is when they’re cuddling together on leave and it’s a complete accident

- It’s very common for strong emotions to trigger a shift but for him it’s almost always been fear and the few times it wasn’t fear it was anger

- He’s never shifted from a positive emotion so he’s shocked and beyond confused when he goes from purring into Johnny’s chest wrapped in fluffy blankets while the rain pours down outside to laying half across his boyfriends body as his Jaguar self

- Soap is ecstatic and immediately shifts as well, curling into Simon’s much larger body and gently licking one of his paws, snuggling under his chin fearlessly

- They get fur and dog hair all over the bed but he doesn’t even care because it feels amazing to be shifted like this

- He hasn’t shifted once in his entire life where he was truly safe, even as a kid it was in the locked bathroom when his shifted form was still just a clumsy black kitten and he wanted to spend all his time in any body other than his own

- It’s still painful but he starts opening up too Soap about his relationship with his shifted form and Johnny is absolutely devastated

- His border collie form is so precious to him and the stress relief of not having to think the way he does as a human, of just herding and protecting settles something inside him

- He can’t imagine being so viciously abused in his dog form that it became a trap of all the worst animal mentalities

- Instead of getting a more simplified thought process and the pleasure of giving in to more of his instincts and trapping people into giving him physical affection Ghost is stuck in the flight or fight of an abused animal, scared, violent, lashing out

- He makes it his life’s mission to get Simon relaxed and happy enough to have him shift from positive emotions

- It doesn’t happen too much at first because he still has so much trauma attached to his shifter form but slowly over time he can get Simon into a headspace where he shifts more often around their flat

- The first time it happens on base for any reason other than a nightmare is when he’s giving Simon a scalp massage, twirling his curls around his fingers and rubbing his fingers against his scalp while Si lets out deep rumbling purrs

- He’s heavy enough when he shifts to half crush him but he doesn’t move much except to wiggle up enough that most of the weight is resting on his legs and not his stomach

- Simon always acts like he should be scared of him like this but it’s all he can do not to coo at him when he blinks heavy lidded green eyes at him and bats at his side clumsily with a heavy paw

- When the door opens Gaz let’s out a high pitched scream of shock and nearly jumps into Price’s arms while Simon barely moves

- It’s the animal mindset kicking in differently than fear and violence and panic and he recognizes it immediately as being how he’s always understood his shifted form

- Still very much human but fewer thoughts and more instinct, making it easier to let go of anxiety then it ever is as a human

- Price looks absolutely shocked to see Simon casually shifted, bumping his large black head against Johnnys side to get his attention

- He quickly goes back to petting him

- When he shifts back he’s clearly a bit unnerved by it but just says something along the lines of never letting Gaz live down his reaction

- It’s months later that Johnny is having a difficult time with some recruits, just the type of people who like to pick at authority to try and make themselves seem tough

- Especially against the supposedly deadly SAS sergeant

- They know of Ghost and have heard enough rumors to be suitably terrified but they certainly don’t know how protective he is over Soap

- Rather than trailing around after Soap like his namesake and scaring all the recruits like he usually does if situations like this arise he takes a different route with this particular group after hearing Soap complain about some of the particularly unpleasant harassment he’s been facing

- Soap is halfway through yelling at the group of especially rude recruits when Ghost pads over to him and buts his head against the man’s chest

- He’s so shocked he freezes and the recruits are scrambling away when Johnnys face breaks into a brilliant smile as Ghost head-buts his thighs and stomach a few times before looping his strong lithe body around Johnnys back

- Soap just continues yelling at the recruits who are now cowering because he’s just casually got a massive black Jaguar draped around him

- When he finishes yelling he gives them one more warning before writing them up for insubordination and the practically run away the second they’re dismissed

- As soon as they’re out of sight Johnny breaks out into the most delighted laughter and hugs Ghost as hard as he can, pressing kisses to his snout and beaming at him

- Ghost just pushes him down and paws at him for pets, purring and butting his massive head against his chest

- Since he doesn’t have anything to do immediately he walks towards Ghosts room and lets himself in with the spare key while the few people around stare at him being followed by a massive jaguar

- People notice of course but it’s a small enough base that despite the people filtering through regularly it really is the 141s base and anyone who knows anything knows it’s a bit unregulated and very much left to the discretion of John Price

- Not to mention they’re too scared of Ghost to create any issues anyway

- So whatever chaos the 141 comes up with is mostly just ignored

- But people are definitely freaked out by a fucking Jaguar of all things just trotting after Sergeant McTavish through the hallways

- Soap of course thinks it’s hilarious and collapses laughing the second he gets the door closed

- He’s so incredibly proud of Simon he just showers him with love the rest of the night, petting him, kissing his snout, snuggling into his chest

- It makes Simon feel more loved than he has in a long time when Johnny gets so excited at one point that he accidentally shifts as well

- They love being shifted together but they also love when one of them is shifted and the other can give them love in their human form

- Soap starts transforming even more to help Simon and he can see the man slowly becoming more receptive to his shifter form

- He doesn’t transform in front of people on base again and a lot of people think those recruits were making it up

- Soap thinks it’s hilarious

- But he’s also so flattered that Ghost would transform in a semi public place for him since he knows how hard it is for him

- He doesn’t expect that Simon will ever be as comfortable as he is with his shifter form but when he starts shifting more in front of Price and Gaz in the 141 rec room he’s ecstatic

- Price and Gaz never quite get used to it but there’s nothing he likes more than seeing Simon sprawled across the couch in a patch of sunlight, tail flicking lazily as he licks him with his rough tongue

- But nothing is better than seeing Simon at home in there flat shifting comfortably just to get some pets, acting for all intents and purposes like a glorified house cat

- He’s such an attention seeker when shifted, if Soap ignores him he’ll break mugs and vases on purpose which has him feeling absolutely humiliated when he shifts back and his thoughts are more human

- Sometimes he still shifts after nightmares and things and Johnny will cuddle him close and soothe him with kisses and snuggles as he yowls and whimpers like a trapped animal

- But overwhelmingly he shifts for positive reasons and on purpose which he never could’ve imagined in the past

- It feels like he’s finally found the peace in his shifted form that he was searching for at five years old locked in the bathroom with clumsy paws, he feels like a kitten again with Johnny who is so sweet and attentive and everything he could ever hope for

- It affects their relationship significantly and they’re both incredibly happy and they work well together

- Although they never escape the cat and dog jokes from the people who know about both of them

[bokettochild]

Febuwhump Day 18

@nancyheart11 you asked me for a Twilight Whump for this one, so I did my best! He wasn't talking, but it's a little tastier with the spice of another perspective >:)

I hope you enjoy!

Rating: Gen

Wordcount:

Summary: They talked about wandering off alone, but that doesn't exactly stop certain people (AKA Twilight) from not doing it again. Maybe Warriors is taking it too personally, but Mask's pup is giving him a headache. He just wants all his little brothers safe in one place, is that too much to ask?

(Note: I have not proof written this. My apologies, but half my keys aren't working, so typos are probably there.)

-

  They do not run off alone, they just don’t! It’s not so much a rule as something that everyone understands, so why in Hylia’s name is it still so hard for the others to actually do? Warriors resists the urge to hiss at himself; he is not Mask or Wild, he is not a feral little creature that can’t use his words, but by Hylia’s Wings does he wish he could get away with it sometimes! 

They’d talked about this! Not at length, and yes, his opinions had been very quickly dismissed in favor of discussing the ability of their enemy to shapeshift, but he’d expressed his disapproval with running off alone in the middle of a battle! 

But who really listens to him anyway? 

No, the captain stops in his tracks for a moment to shake off that thought, that’s not fair. Most of the other heroes listen. For Wind it’s second nature, and Time too, most days, listens without thinking about it. Even as an adult, the other respects his experience in leadership and knowledge of fighting and working with others. Four, even for his faults when it comes to actually working with and not simply around other people, still hears him out when he speaks. Sky and Hyrule both respect him for his title of knight and the work he’d put in to earn it, and even Legend, who despises soldiers, will respect his decisions and follow the plans he’s set. Yes, there's some disconnect, which is to be expected when working with a new team of people that aren’t accustomed to each other just yet, but they’re trying. Most of them are trying. 

Twilight and Wild are their own story. 

The captain’s teeth saw against each other as he ducks through the underbrush, following the faint trail left by big paws and the even bigger tracks of a moblin. How can a person be so determined to keep others in line and behaving, to keep others in the group safe and obeying the rules, and yet they themselves trod all over them? 

Granted, he is also currently separate from the group, wandering off alone, but he’s not the only one and everyone else knows what he’s doing. He’s tracking Twilight while the rest collect themselves and make camp. Wild had offered to do it, but after the last time, he just can’t trust the kid to actually come back; Wild’s proved where his loyalties lie, and it’s with the rancher, not their group. When asked to make the choice, they all know what it would be. 

He told the champion to stay. 

He doesn't know if he’ll be listened to, since that’s also the other point of struggle here, but he’s done all he can. He’s a good tracker, used to picking up the slightest sign of enemy activity, and his reasoning of being their current medic and thus the best choice in the case Twilight had gotten injured in some way, seems to be reason enough for most of the rest. There’s offers of course, to have someone go with him as backup, but looking over the tired men and boys in camp, he turns them all down. They need the rest, and time to recover from their own injuries and exhaustion. As a soldier, he’s been trained to push his limits, his exhaustion, his pain, his physical abilities, and ignore all barriers until his assignment is completed. The others may be heroes, ones who’ve faced odds that soldiers could never imagine, but they’re not likely to have experienced that sort of pressure and he wouldn’t want them to. 

They need their rest. He can get his once his duty is done. 

Now if only Twilight wouldn’t make it so hard by having wandered off to Nayru knows where! 

A hand drags through his hair, disrupting it, but it doesn’t matter. Yes, there’s a small voice that hisses to fix it, one that sounds a bit like Proxi, but these heroes care even less for how he looks on any given day than for what he says.  

Still being unfair, Link. They aren’t all bad. They’re good kids. 

Sure, they’d probably all take offence at being called kids but that’s what they are! The youngest are very young and even Time, their eldest, still looks to him through force of habit for guidance and aid. At most, he’d say the oldest most of them could be is twenty, early twenties for the rancher and skyloftian, but that’s still young enough to still be tripping over themselves in an effort to understand adulthood. They are, in his mind, still kids, and they’re mostly good ones, so he really can’t go lumping them all together as not giving a darn when they very much do. Not about his looks, thank Hylia, but about what he has to say? Most definitely. 

Again, it’s just Time’s pups who don’t. 

Goddesses, they take after their old man to an extreme level! It feels like just yesterday he was chasing down the little scamp, explaining the importance of comradery, of trust, of teamwork. Just yesterday, he was tilting brilliant blue eyes up to meet tired ones and asking, nearly begging, for the kid to please just give his way a chance. 

He sort of doubts such methods will work on his kid’s much older pup though.  

Twilight and Wild are similar in that they are stubborn, but they’re also much older than Mask had been, and neither is desperate for the stability the young boy had sought. They have Tie and each otehr, their own little bubble, separate from the rest of the heroes, and while both have an obvious respect for his skill, that’s about where their respect for him ends. They don’t look up to him, don’t admire him, don’t see him as anything more than another hero in their group, which is nice as far as not needing to babysit them goes. He’s glad that they don’t need him to keep an eye on them, that they’re stable enough mentally and in their perception of themselves that they don’t need someone else to support them, and if they do, they’ve already found that in each other. Still, having even the smallest of ways to get through to either of them would be nice. 

He’d thought that experience with the army would help connect him with the champion, that maybe a bond with Time could be something he could connect with the rancher about, but so far, no dice. 

His feet skid slightly on some leaves, bringing his attention back to the task at hand. Right, he needs to find Twilight. He can worry about driving home the idea of not running off alone when he’s sure the other is still alive. Granted, they didn’t see the black lizalfoes, or anything they think might have been another form of the beast, in this last battle, but it doesn’t take the most powerful of monsters to lay a hero low, especially if they don’t have anyone to watch their backs. 

The paw prints change to boot prints with the same seamlessness as they’d become paws at the beginning of the trail, and blood, crimson not black, spatters on the ground in an arc that indicates a swinging blade right where the moblin’s feet shift into a spin to face its pursuer. The trail of blood falls to the left of the trail, which means it could be delt by the left-handed hero or by the opposing monster, but considering the sudden turn, his money is on the rancher being the injured party here. 

By habit, his hand falls to his bag, assuring himself he’s got his med kit close at hand. 

By the three, these boys could save themselves so much pain if they just covered each others’ asses! Next time they get to the ranch or any place where they can stop for a little, he’s asking Time to help him arrange a training session for these kids. Maybe with their unofficial leader’s support, he can even get the two pups in on the session. As is, he’s sure Wind and four will be willing, and Sky will most definitely be his most valuable asset in teaching them. Good grief, whatever the Knights Academy on Skyloft is teaching, they're doing a great job, because that boy melds seamlessly in with whomever is closest to him!  

That may or may not be why he keeps close to the skyloftian, but who can blame him for wanting the assurance of having someone to watch his back when he’s so busy trying to keep an eye on all the others all the time? 

Twilight could have used the same, and blood specks along the trail as he goes. The steps become distorted, shuffling over each other in what’s clearly a break from the chase to fight. Here though, seven or eight paces from the initial blood spatter, more footprints join the mix. A bokoblin- no, two of them. The rancher’s steps disappear for a short moment, but with some looking around he finds them again. A flip or a throw landed him behind his foe, but he’s pushed back, heels dragging as they shuffle backwards into the woods as the enemy presses forwards against him. 

More tracks join the mix; an ambush. 

He grits his teeth, pushing forwards, ignoring, for the most part, the trail of the monsters in favor of following boot prints that press heavily to the dirt at the heel and toe, running, now pursued rather than the pursuer. The rancher will have known to try and limit the area of approach from his foes by darting into the trees. At best, he’d have circled around to pick them off from behind, but the prints don’t indicate as much. The speed of the different monster types will change have changed the tides of the fight though, with the bokoblins moving faster, prints fading out entirely as they likely fell and faded to miasma, leaving behind a moblin trail that continues, joined by more of its kind. He’d estimate at least three, maybe five of the creatures.  

Not great odds for one already injured rancher. 

He picks up his own pace. There’s no sounds of battle ahead or anywhere close by, not that he can hear. Granted, cannon fire in the war has definitely damaged his hearing enough that he could just be missing it, but he chooses to believe that there’s nothing, if only in the hope that Twilight will somehow be headed back along the trail towards him already, instead of being even further out, still in the middle of a fight. 

He doesn’t stumble across the rancher walking along the path though. No, he follows the fight, the footprints, trailing through the trees until there’s nowhere else to go. A wall of earth, steep enough to be a struggle to climb for anyone currently being chased, rises up and the footprints spin about to face those following after. He doesn’t keep track after that though, because the moment he sees fur and brass armor that catches the fading light, he knows his search is done. 

“There you are, rancher.” 

The urge to steal Time’s thunder and call the other man a pup- not with the affection of the now older man but with all the ire of its original connotation among his own people, is strong, but he resists. That would be considered out of line without context, and he doubts Twilight even knows the source of the nickname he so values from his mentor. 

Knowing it means a young person who’s annoying but not yet unbearable, yet, would probably kill some of that magic. 

So, he bites his tongue, keeps his impulses to himself, and moves to the side of the younger man, who’s currently slumped against a tree, breath strained but still there as dark eyes, a shade or so darker than Time’s own, flutter slightly with an effort to stay open. 

“Cap’n?” 

Darker or not, there’s definitely a lot of Time- of Mask, in the rancher’s face, and it makes staying mad with him a bit of a challenge when he’s looking so pathetic. “Got yourself in quite the situation, haven’t you,” he hums, kneeling at the younger’s side and taking his time with a once over. The rancher’s tunic has taken damage, but his concern is where crimson leaks from the tears, not where blades have slashed through only to be halted by chain mail. Yes, the bruising won’t be fun, but his concern is something he can fix, anything that Twilight will actually need help with. 

There’s a wince from the other. “Not my intent.” 

“Never is,” he unclips the bag from his belt, eyes falling on a nasty looking gash just below the cut off of the chainmail’s sleeves. There are some light scratches over browned features and an injury to the leg that leaks slowly into the earth below, but the rancher’s armor looks to have done its job well.  

“The others?” 

“Fine.” He keeps his attention on slipping the bracer from his brother’s arm, on unbuckling and sliding away the leather, the underlying glove, and then rolling up the sleeve to get at the injury he needs to treat. Wound care fills his mind, not answers, not talking. That can come once he’s assured that the other is alright. Much as the man drives him mad, he’s still Time’s kid, and still a fellow hero, still a brother, still someone who doesn’t deserve to suffer just because he’s particularly good at being stupid and reckless. 

“Wild?” 

“Fine.” He repeats, sucking in his cheeks as he sees the damage done without fabric blocking the way. Claws do so much more damage than blades, and the chances of infection are higher too. Not as much as with bites, but it’s still not preferrable. 

“The kids?” 

He huffs, turning to grab for his kit, looking for anything he might have to quickly clean the wound. “You’d know if you didn’t run away mid battle.” 

Hurt crosses sloping features briefly, not for the prodding at the wound site, but from his sharp tongue. Regret stirs briefly at his heart, but like his ire, he pushes it down to keep his head clear and his mind focused on his work as their team’s current medic. 

“Yer upset.” 

The urge to tell the kid ‘no shit’ is very strong, but he bottles up that too. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the wound, on wiping it down and looking for anything that might have gotten into the cut.  

Twilight’s ears flick back, not appreciating having his words ignored. If there’s one thing the rancher is accustomed to, it’s answers when he speaks. Wild always answers, Time too even if it’s not verbal, and the younger ones always respond to. Being met with silence, both verbally and in body language, must be new to him. “Did somethin’ happen?” And when he still doesn't answer, “Wars, what’s goin’ on?” 

“They’re fine, now hush.” It’s a deep cut. Not as bad as the axe wound, but not light by any means either, and it will need stitches. He keeps his needles in a bottle, clean and ready for use, for this reason. Mask used to fuss that it was a waste of a good bottle, and the thought lightens his heart just slightly as he pulls it out and grabs the needed supplies to close the wound in the rancher’s arm.  

“No, Wars-” there’s a straining from the body beneath his hands, but Twilight doesn’t successfully pull himself up, and his face flashes white for a moment before he slumps again. It seems the mighty rancher has spent all his strength in fighting alone, nothing left to use to so much as sit up by himself. 

“Stay still,” he sighs, pushing down, entirely unnecessarily, against a shoulder. It’s for the sake of the man’s pride, he tells himself, to pretend to play along that twilight can get up on his own right now. “Let me work.” 

Work and bottle up his frustrations enough that he can talk afterwards. 

Twilight, however, has no such intentions of likewise staying silent. “Captain, what’s goin’ on?” 

“I said stay still.” 

“Are they hurt?” Blue eyes bleed worry, the same desperation his mentor used to let slip, sometimes still does when it’s his pup in trouble or hurt. “What happened?” 

“Nothing.” 

“Why are you actin’ like this then?” 

The urge to growl again rises, and again he shoves it down with pursed lips and clenched teeth, focusing his energy on starting the stitches and hoping the pain of them will be enough to distract the younger man from his line of questioning. It doesn’t work though. 

“Wars?” 

“Twilight,” his voice snaps without his allowing it, eyes flicking up to meet midnight blue, “I’m trying to focus. Stitches aren’t easy, believe it or not.” 

They’re familiar and he’s done more stitches in his life through human flesh and zora scales than his baby sisters have in their needlework projects that Maither gives them. He won’t admit that though, not if it gives him an out from having to talk. Honestly, some days, he really misses having Proxi around to speak for him when he’s stressed. She was always much better at that sort of thing than he was. 

Twilight falls quiet at his words though, but he still feels those eyes fixed on him, searching his face even as their gaze is broken with a flinch or a huff of pain as the needle pressed through flesh and pulls the two edges of the cut together. He has to stop a few times to dab away blood and clear the area for the next stitch, but he’s quick about his work. In and out, twisting the thread together to close the wound, moving on to the next stitch and watching as the flesh pulls together again over where blood leaks out. 

He's done before he’s ready to talk again, but bandaging is something they’ve all done, and he can’t say that actually takes so much focus as to stop him talking, and Twilight knows it, already pressing again with the questions. “Wars-” 

A scoff escapes, puffing hair out of his eyes to clear them, even though having it to hide behind would be much more preferable. “You really are Time’s pup, aren’tcha?” 

A tick. “What does that mean?” 

He ties off the ends of the linen wrap, tight enough to hold but not so much as to cut off circulation. “You’re a worrier and a fuss pot.” 

Heavy brows crease in answer, but Twilight doesn’t actually have a foot to stand on when it comes to opposing his words. Instead, the rancher just stares at him, waiting until Warriors turns his attention to the injured leg, arm finished. 

It’s only once he’s gotten a start on treating the cut there (this time from a blade) that the rancher’s voice rises again, guarded and wary. “You’re mad at me,” 

He doesn’t answer. 

Rather than guess why, Twilight pushes ahead. “I couldn’t let that moblin escape. We don’t know what’s out here, and letting it terrorize a village jist wouldn’t do. You know that, Wars.” When there’s no answer though, the country accent keeps rolling, pitching slightly, straining. “There was a whole ‘nother camp out here, one that might have attacked us in the night!” And then, when still no answer sounds from his lips, “You would have done the same.” 

“I would not.” He clips, snipping his thread and briefly glancing over at wide eyes. “I would have attended to my men and then pursued the enemy when we, as a team, were capable of doing so Wandering off on my own is what nearly lost us the war. So, as a rule, I won’t be doing that again unless I absolutely must.”  

That shuts the rancher up, recognition dawning in midnight eyes that falter and fall as he turns his attention back to tending wounds.  

There’s no more pushing done by either party, and it’s quiet as he works save the hisses and hitches of the younger man’s breath in pain as stitches are laid and bandages wrapped. That done though, the quite is almost overwhelming, even to him, and he finds himself sighing at it, crouching before his pup’s pup and resisting, with a lot of effort, the urge to hook a finger under the other's chin and lift that gaze to meet his own, like he’d done with his own kid what feels like only yesterday. Instead, he keeps his hands to himself, but gentles his gaze all the same. It’s not that hard, not when faced with familiar features drawn up in a soft scowl that, were it Mask, he’d teasingly call a pout. “I’m not mad,” a disbelieving look meets his own at the words, but he pushes his tone a bit firmer with the next ones. “I’m frustrated, but we can work over that later, preferably after we’ve all had dinner and some rest. For now, we should head back to the others, before your cub starts thinking we’ve dropped off the face of the world or something.” 

A furrow forms between dark brows, too sharp teeth, wolf teeth he muses to himself, gnawing at the other's cheek lining. It’s a bad habit, and he’s sure the man knows it, but he doesn’t correct it. That’s not his place. 

He can guess what’s troubling Twilight though. “Can you stand?” 

A huff, a little smile that’s flustered enough he can guess the answer. “Not really.” 

He knew it. He doesn’t hold it against the other though, instead, shifting to kneeling at the man’s side, shuffling about as he must before giving a waring of his intent. “I’ll carry you then.” 

Alarm flashes clear as day over the rancher’s face. “Cap, I don’t-” 

“I’m stronger than I look,” he assures, although it doesn’t seem to do any good. No doubt, twilight’s staring at his slighter frame and remembering his own bulk, but honestly, he’d served for years in the army. If he couldn’t haul an injured soldier any distance, he wouldn’t be worth the rupees he earns. 

Getting Twilight up on his back with no help from the weakened rancher or anyone else is a bit of a mess, and there’s some slipping and struggle which the rancher no doubt sees as proof that this is no good, but despite protests, he keeps at it until the other is slung over his back. Twilight is heavy, much more so than the other boys would be, but it’s not his first time hauling an Ordonian to safety, and the bulk of his brother just means he moves a bit slower than he would otherwise. 

Twilight’s grip around his neck is weaker than is ideal, but in the long run, it’s probably better that way, because it means his breath doesn't get cut off as he heads back to camp. 

Like he said, once they’re there, when they’ve had something to eat, and probably after the rancher downs a potion from his cub’s bag, they’ll need to talk. This time, he will not accept having them change the subject or redirect. This time they will discuss going off alone. 

After though. After they’ve had time to catch their breath. And he supposes, shaking his head, after Twilight wakes up again from the doze he’s apparently fallen into. 

Good grief, the man even snores as loud as his mentor! 

[actual-changeling]

"Joel?"

Ellie shifts slightly so she can look up at him, cheek squished against his biceps. The movie is long over, but the best part of the night is dozing off pressed against Joel while he reads or whittles away at something. Sometimes he even reads out-loud, voice rhythmic and soft, lulling her to sleep. He glances down at her and lowers his book, arm coming up to wrap around her.

"Yeah, baby?"

She chews on her lip, trying to find the words in her tired mind, and Joel's thumb gently rubbing her shoulder is the opposite of helpful, her eyelids fluttering shut.

"What's Tommy, like, to me? He's your brother but I don't. I don't know where I fit."

Joel stays silent for a litlte bit, seemingly properly thinking about her question, and she curls up tighter against his chest, pressing her face into his shirt somewhere below his neck. She's tired enough to fall asleep like this even with the lights on, and she chose this moment exactly because of that, knowing that the fatigue will prevent her from freaking out too much; so far, it's doing its job.

"Tommy is whatever you want him to be, babygirl, there's no pressure."

"I know", she sighs, answer kind in his typical Joel-fashion, but useless.

"I just don't know what to call him, to other people, I mean."

Explaining her relationship with Joel to the other children and teachers at school was already a task, and while the latter didn't question her answers, she's given up on trying to convince her classmates that Joel isn't her actual dad. The spark for this conversation had been an encounter with one of the newer arrivals, whom Tommy had introduced her to as 'my brother's kid', which, sure, probably the easiest way of putting it. But-

"Someone called him my uncle, and he didn't correct them. I don't know if-"

"If he's okay with everyone calling him that?"

Ellie nods, glad that he understands what she is getting at, and he holds her a little tighter as he pulls her further into his lap. Joel presses a kiss to her temple, her forehead, then her hair before settling with his chin resting on the top of her head, his hands rubbing soft circles into her back.

"You're my kid," he says plainly, "which makes you a part of his family, and since he's my brother, yeah, I guess uncle is accurate. I don't think he minds."

"You sure?"

The last thing she wants to do is upset either of them, and she and Tommy have actually been getting along quite well, bullying Joel and doing all the things he doesn't want either of them to do - in short, making him go grey twice as fast as before.

"Very sure."

(He doesn't want to tell her just yet that Tommy has been calling himself her uncle since day one, introducing Ellie as his niece in turn.)

"Alright."

Ellie wraps her arms around his waist when Joel lowers them onto the couch, safely trapped between him and the backrest, and she holds on tight even while she drifts off, sleep coming easily and gently, closing their eyes with a gentle touch. He will carry her to bed later, enjoying the opportunity to simply feel her breathing and alive against him for now.

"G'night, Joel." (Saying it doesn't sound right, but she doesn't have to, they can both sense it. Her friends calling him that no longer sounds quite as wrong.)

"Sleep tight, baby." (They all know, and Tommy is intentionally driving the point home, but he doesn't need to tell her; she knows. They both do.)

That's my niece, Ellie.

Oh, she's my brother's daughter.

Joel is her dad, idiot.

Must run in the Miller family.

Family, they all know, is way more than just shared DNA. It's the people you trust, who will keep you safe.

It's everyone you come home to at the end of a long, long day.