#i need to hear the ''you're part of a machine you are not a human being'' line

[goldenvboots]

you know what gets me is when f1 drivers take their balaclavas off at the end of a race and the imprints are visible on their face and it looks like the panels on a robot. something about humans extracting themselves from a machine they just spent hours merged with and seeing the marks left by its touch

[promblums]

I know I haven't played a pokemon game in a while but god DAMN is the Scarlet/Violet final boss cool.

Like, you've known since like minute two that something is up with Professor Sada / Turo, but you get down to the bottom of this huge canyon expecting oh, the professor made a robot clone of their mind but it went cRaZy and the real professor is tied up somewhere. No.

The robot professor, it turns out, was the rational one of the two of them, watching as the person in whose image it was created slips further and further into obsession. It turns out that everything good you've seen in the AI Professor, THAT was the machine. The real Professor has been deeply bitter and increasingly misanthropic, extending way, way back into Arven's childhood, and maybe even before.

Said real professor is dead. Like, dead-dead. Real human dead. Not only that, they were murdered trying to protect one -raidon from another, one that attacked with full intent to kill. Was this a last, selfless act? Or was the professor so devoted to their work that they would die to protect it? We never get that context. It's gone. Have fun in therapy, Arven.

So then the AI Professor leads you to the time machine, looks you straight in the eye, and says, "Can I say 'you have to kill me' in a pokemon game? No? Aight, cool, so to shut down the time machine, I need you to 'not' kill me. Because I'm gonna try to 'not kill' you first."

And then they get lifted 200 feet into the air on a spire of glowing onyx beneath what I can only describe as a technological halo of malice, and they just start breaking the rules of pokemon. Like, they don't get down there and challenge you, ooh, I'm gonna fight ya for the future of poketmans. They stand on the prow of a pitch black heaven and drop living paradoxes on you. You typically get 1, maybe 2 master balls per game; Sada/Turo has an unending supply, perpetually pouring from the godseye above them. They don't even throw them. They just open their hand and let this rain of high-level pokemon fall out.

This is not a pokemon battle. This is you, an insect, being crushed by an uncaring god.

You get the feeling that, were it not hardcoded in by some earlier version of the professor who still had some respect for pokemon tradition, there's no way the possessed AI Professor would respect the 'only 6 pokemon' rule. And they don't! You somehow beat the odds, and you get all of five seconds to think you did something before the Paradise Protection Protocol kicks in and starts the battle right back up again.

And locks your pokeballs shut.

And sends out the -raidon that, as was previously established, has killed a human being before.

This is my favorite part of this fight, because up until now, we've been acclimating to the twist that the real Professor was deeply selfish, to the point of all but abandoning their own child.

Right before the fight, the AI Professor explains that they're going to get overpowered by the security system when you try to shut down the machine. Given the real Professor's obsessive nature, you're led to associate the security system with some remnant of the real professor, and once it takes over, the game starts getting fucky about the identity of the mind in the robot. Is this AI Turo/Sada, but with their free will turned off? Turo/Sada's mind imprinted over the robot's? Some weird emergent mind from the main computer?

Right after you beat the first fight, the 'fair' fight, you get this moment where the roboprofessor is glitching out hard, and its name changes from "AI Sada / AI Turo" to "Professor Sada / Turo?" RIGHT as it starts to express feelings, real feelings toward Arven, look how tall he's gotten, how proud of him they are. We can't know how the real professor felt about their son, but its all the things Arven always wanted to hear. Is it the robot, trying to be kind? Confused? Or is this a fragment of the real professor's mind bleeding through?

But at the same time, the Paradise Protection Protocol kicks in, which is also implied to be some sort of mind-imprint from the Professor, and tries to kill all four of the main kids to ensure the safety of the Professor's machine.

So, we've got two machines, both of incomprehensible power, fighting over the fate of time itself, and each one set up to be a reflection of a person we will never meet.

Which one do you think the professor was most like?

[runariya]

Y(E)ARNED (JJK) • 1

pairing: alien!Jungkook x human seamstress!female reader genre: alien!AU, S2L, slow burn, angst rating: 18+, MDNI warnings: a lot of fluff, a little bit of lying, good natured 'manipulation', size difference, JK has tentacles, self-doubt, minor wound that needs to be stitched, mentions of bonding, doubt, again lying, kissing, smut (only superficial in this part), lmk if I forgot something pls word count: ~5.8k

a/n: part of the "Dice With Destiny" project by @thebtswritersclub and @creativepromptsforwriting | I just couldn't help but dice again 🫣 sry

a/n 2: This work is purely fictional. All characters and events are entirely imaginary and do not reflect reality. No translations are allowed without permission. Thank you for understanding! 💕

masterlist • 2

You think you might settle here, let your restless stitching hands finally find their rhythm on this planet where the air is soft and the light through the windows of your little shop lands like golden thread across the floor. It feels right, this place, Euphonis—a world you once stumbled upon like a loose button in a drawer, an afterthought, but now it glows in your mind like the warm thrum of a needle through fabric. The shop is everything you’d imagined and more, dressed in rustic charm, the old wood floor beneath your feet creaking like a whispered conversation, a relict of the lives it has seen, the weight of Seraphenti footsteps heavier than your own feathery steps. No need for a bell at the door, no chime to herald each customer; the groan of the boards will sing their entry for you, a music of its own.

You’ve been a seamstress for as long as your memory stretches, threading your way through worlds in search of something like home, always with the same soft hope in your chest, the same search for people who need your craft. Zyntis and its inhabitants had seemed promising once—their tails awkward in standardised clothing that never quite fit—but your style had no place there, and so the doors of that shop closed, the dream dissolving before it could begin. And then, by some strange luck—or maybe fate—, you found yourself here, among the Seraphentis, creatures of ethereal beauty, their four tentacles making clothes ill-fitting and frustrating, begging for someone with your hands, your skill to fix what never quite sat right on their otherworldly forms.

And now you're here, here with your thread and your scissors, ready to stitch together lives just a little better, one custom piece at a time, easing the small burdens of misfit garments, making life smoother—seamless, you think with a soft smile.

Late in the afternoon, the shop is quiet, only the rhythmic whirr of your sewing machine filling the small room, your small fingers guiding the fabric beneath the needle with every beat of your heart. You're working on a dress for yourself, something soft and simple to soothe the days behind and look forward to the days ahead. The fabric is delicate, like a promise, and you're so absorbed in its flow that you don't hear the front door until the floor itself betrays the presence of another—footsteps, nearly silent but for the familiar creak beneath their weight.

You stop, hands stilling the machine as you lift your gaze and stand up without much thought, and there—there stands a Seraphenti in the middle of your shop, framed by the light like something out of a dream. Your breathing comes to a sudden stop, not for the first time, at the sheer beauty of these beings, but this one—this one is something else entirely. His face holds you, every line and curve more perfect than any sculpture, his dark eyes deep as midnight, lashes long and thick like the edge of a brush dipped in ink. His lips, rosy and gleaming, part slightly when he sees you—when he realises you are not what he expected, a human, let alone one as small as you, much shorter than any Seraphenti, standing before him in a tailor's shop meant for his species.

You feel his surprise, she him staring unsure at you, but you also feel his warmth, his curiosity. The corners of your eyes crinkle into a smile, the kind that stretches wide and genuine, your teeth flashing in welcome as you call out to him with your soft, cheery voice, "Hello, welcome! What can I do for you?"

It’s as if your words break a spell. He smiles back—radiant, confident in a way that catches you off guard for a second, though there’s a softness in his eyes that makes you feel at ease. He steps forward, his tall build filling the room, and you have to tilt your head back so far that you almost laugh from the sheer height of him.

"Hi," he says with a dialect, his voice rich and warm. "I was hoping to have my shirt customised… if that's possible?"

"Of course!" You can't help the excitement in your voice—he’s your first customer here on Euphonis, and that alone makes you practically beam. You gesture towards the small podium you’ve had specially made for your size, a donut-shaped stand meant to let you reach your taller clients with ease. „If you’d come with me, I just need to take your measurements."

He follows you, but pauses when his right foot lands on the podium, eyeing the contraption with a look of mild confusion before you giggle and explain, "Oh, the donut’s for me, not you. Just step into the middle."

Realisation dawns across his handsome face, and a high-pitched laugh escapes him, shaking his broad shoulders. He looks down at you, and suddenly you both burst into uncontrollable laughter, cracking up like it’s the funniest thing in the world. You hold your stomach as your side begins to ache, tears prickling at your eyes as you try to compose yourself.

"I'm sorry," he manages between laughs, wiping away tears as well. "It's just… brilliant."

"No, no need to apologise!" You smile, cheeks aching from the shared moment. "It's fine, really."

You both manage to calm down long enough for him to step into the circle, and you climb onto the podium behind him. Despite the elevation, he towers over you still, and the two of you exchange a look in the mirror—your heads tilted in different directions as if caught in some ridiculous dance move. The sight is too much; you both burst into laughter again, leaning on each other to stay upright, wheezing without restraint.

When all the laughter finally runs out of your systems, he straightens, offering you a playful smirk. „You know, I’ve always been one of the taller ones."

"Really?" You quip, pretending to be shocked. "I never would have guessed."

His eyes light up, the sparkle of amusement never leaving as he says, "I'm Jungkook, by the way."

"I'm ___," you reply, meeting his gaze in the mirror once more. "Nice to meet you, Jungkook. Now, let’s get those measurements, shall we?"

You begin your work, tape in hand, as you move around him, tracing the lines of his strong frame, marvelling at the way his body seems to have been carved by some masterful sculptor. Each muscle is defined, even beneath the fabric of his shirt, and you focus hard to keep your hands steady, to keep from letting your admiration spill over into something too obvious. Every so often, you catch him watching you in the mirror, a soft smile playing at his lips, his dark eyes warm and knowing as if reading your mind, though he says nothing—just lets you work.

When you reach his back, the challenge becomes clear—his tentacles rise at your approach, like a loom adjusting its threads to some unseen hand. They stand tall and tense, alert and protective, sensing your presence but unsure whether to trust. You reach out slowly, letting the back of your hand hover near them, allowing them to ‚sniff‘ you, in a way. Slowly, reluctantly, they relax, draping back down, though they remain distant, uninterested in interacting with you. You can’t help but feel a small pang of disappointment—Seraphenti tentacles are usually more curious, more playful—but Jungkook’s seem reserved, almost dismissive.

Still, you carry on, finishing the measurements with care, even as a quiet sadness lingers in your thoughts. "We’re done," you say, the words soft as you both step off and out of the podium, heading towards a dresser that you use as a counter, and jot down the remaining notes.

Jungkook hands you his shirt from a small backpack you hadn’t noticed before. “When can I pick it up?”

“Three days?” you suggest, hoping to give it the time and attention it deserves.

“That works for me,” he says with a nod, and you scribble the pickup date on a small slip of paper, passing it to him along with a smile.

“Thank you, Jungkook,” you say, handing him the receipt. “See you in three days.”

“Thank you, too, ___,” he says, his voice softer now, a touch of warmth lacing his words as he leaves your shop.

And just like that, the door closes behind him, leaving you alone again in the soft light of the afternoon, your heart fluttering silently in your chest.

Three days after your first encounter, Jungkook returns to your shop. The wooden floors creak softly beneath his weight as he steps inside, and despite knowing he’s coming, the sight of him still sends a ripple through you, as if the world itself bends gently towards him. He’s all smiles and easy charm, his presence large enough to fill the room but never overwhelming. You hand him his shirt with a small sense of pride fluttering in your chest, neatly wrapped in tissue paper and a cute little sticker holding its edges. You’ve sewn every stitch with care, crafted every seam with precision, and when he leaves with a grateful smile and a wave, you feel light as air, like you’ve woven a thread of connection to a customer that might just hold.

But the next week, he’s back. You hear the familiar creak of the floorboards and turn to see him holding the same shirt, this time with an apologetic frown lining his beautiful face. There’s a tear where you made your customisation, a delicate seam pulled apart. You feel a knot of dread form in your stomach, tightening until it’s nothing but uncomfortable. Your hands tremble slightly as you take the shirt from him, running your fingers along the damaged thread. You apologise profusely, cheeks burning with embarrassment, and promise to fix it at no charge. He reassures you—says it’s not a big deal, that things like this happen—but you can’t shake the feeling that you’ve failed him.

You spend the next few hours painstakingly re-stitching the seam, checking it over and over to ensure it holds. It’s perfect when you hand it back, and Jungkook thanks you warmly, that familiar smile returning to his face as he leaves. Still, something gnaws at you, a quiet voice at the back of your mind whispering doubts into your ear.

Then he returns again.

And again.

Each time with the same shirt, each time with a small tear, a rip where you’ve sewn. Your heart sinks deeper with every visit, each one like a tiny unravelling of the confidence you’d worked so hard to build. You start to dread the sound of the floor creaking beneath his feet, the sight of that perfect face marked with apology. Your hands shake when you work now, the thread slipping from your grasp more often than it used to, and the needle seems to prick your skin more than it should, small beads of red appearing where your focus falters.

By the time he comes back for the seventh time in three months, the weight of it all becomes too much. The sight of him walking through the door feels like a final thread snapping, the tension that’s been building in your chest pulling so tight that it finally breaks in two. You’ve tried your best, given it everything, and still, you’re failing miserably—still, your work isn’t enough. You can feel the tears already welling in your eyes before you even greet him.

The door shuts behind him with that same familiar groan of wood against wood, and you’re already pulling the apron from your waist, the knot in your stomach so tight it hurts.

“Jungkook,” you say, your voice trembling despite your efforts to keep it steady. “I can’t… I can’t do this anymore.”

He pauses, his brow furrowing in concern as he takes a step closer, holding the shirt loose in his hand by his side. “What? ___, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, the words coming out before you can stop them, tumbling over one another like loose yarn spilling from a spool. “I don’t know why it keeps happening. Every time I fix it, it just—breaks again. I don’t understand. I’ve never had this problem before. Maybe my work isn’t… maybe I’m not…” You trail off, tears slipping down your cheeks now, your hands shaking as you press them to your face, trying to hide the wave of emotion washing over you. “Maybe I’m just not good enough.”

Jungkook’s face falls, and suddenly he’s in front of you, his free hand hovering just above yours as if unsure whether he should touch you or not. “___, no, please don’t say that. It’s not—”

“I can’t keep doing this,” you continue as your hands fall limply to your sides, your voice breaking as you choke out the words. “Every time you come back, it feels like I’ve failed. I don’t know why the thread keeps breaking, why I can’t make it work. It’s like every time I stitch it together, something inside me frays even more, and I just… I can’t. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen in panic, and he quickly closes the distance between you, reaching out to gently take your miniature hand in his big one. His touch is warm, his fingers curling around yours with a softness that paralyses you momentarily. “No, no, it’s not you. ___, it’s not your work. Your stitching is perfect. It’s me—” He stops, inhaling deeply, his eyes darting around the shop for a moment as if he’s gathering the courage to say something. Then he lets out a burdened breath, looking back at you with a pained expression. “I did it. I—I damaged the shirt on purpose.”

You blink up at him, confusion furrowing your brow. “What?”

“I damaged it on purpose,” he repeats, his voice low and apologetic, like a child confessing a misdeed. “I—I just… I wanted to keep seeing you.”

You think you might faint, your mind struggling to process his words. “You… you tore the shirt… on purpose?”

Jungkook nods, his face and ears burning with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean for it to get this far. I just—after the first time, when I saw how careful you were, how much you cared, I… I couldn’t stop thinking about you. And I didn’t know how else to see you again, so I—” He gestures helplessly to the shirt in his hand, offering it to you like if it were the culprit, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I kept damaging it. A little more each time, just so I’d have an excuse to come back.”

You stare up at him, unblinking, wondering if you imagined his confidence or not. But still, there are equal parts disbelief and something else that settles within you—something that feels strangely like relief, like the loosening of a knot that’s been pulling tight for months. The silence between you stretches, Jungkook’s nerves flaring, as your mind is still trying to catch up with everything he’s just said.

“Why?” you finally manage to ask, your voice small, barely more than a whisper.

Jungkook meets your eyes, his expression softening as he takes a deep breath. “Because… I like you,” he admits, the words tumbling out like they’ve been waiting too long to be spoken. “I liked you from the moment I walked in here the first time. I didn’t know how to ask you out. I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same, or that you’d think I was ridiculous, so I—well, I made up reasons to keep coming back. To keep seeing you. But it’s not because you’re not good at your job—you’re amazing at it,___. It’s because I didn’t want to stop seeing you.”

His confession washes over you like a warm shower after a long exhausting day, the self-doubt that had been festering inside you slowly dissolving under the gentle flutter of his words. You take a breath, wiping at your tear-streaked cheeks as you search his face, looking for any sign that this might be some kind of joke or misunderstanding—but all you see is sincerity, and a nervous kind of hope.

“I…” You falter, still trying to wrap your mind around everything, but there’s a warmth blooming in your chest now, a quiet happiness that wasn’t there since Jungkook came back with the damaged shirt. You look down at your hands, still held gently in his, and let out a small, breathless laugh. “You tore your shirt… just to see me?”

Jungkook nods, his lips curving into a sheepish smile. “Yeah. Pretty stupid, right?”

A laugh escapes you, soft but genuine, the tension in your chest finally releasing. “Maybe a little,” you admit, looking up at him with a small, flirty smile of your own. “But… kind of sweet, too.”

His eyes brighten at that, relief flooding his expression as he squeezes your hands gently. “I’m sorry, though. I should’ve just… told you. I didn’t mean to make you doubt yourself.”

You shake your head, wiping away the last of your tears. “It’s okay. I mean, it wasn’t great thinking I was losing my touch, but… I guess I can’t be too upset. Not now that I know why.”

The two of you just stand there for a moment, the quiet between you no longer heavy with doubt. It’s strange, how quickly everything has shifted—how the world has gone from tipping over to balancing out again in a way you hadn’t expected. You take a breath, feeling a soft warmth settle in your chest as you meet Jungkook’s eyes once more.

“So… what now?” you take a breath to shush the shyness away, feeling a soft warmth settle in your chest as you meet Jungkook’s eyes once more.

Jungkook’s smile widens, his beautiful eyes crinkling at the corners as he gently tugs you a little closer. “Well, for starters, I’ll stop tearing my clothes on purpose,” he laughs quietly. “And maybe… we could try seeing each other outside of the shop? If you’re interested, that is.”

Your small heart skips a beat at his offer, and for the first time in months, the doubt inside you is nowhere to be found. You nod, a beaming smile on your face as you look up at him. “Yeah,” you say softly, “I think I’d like that.”

And just like that, you love story with Jungkook begins.

It's been months since you and Jungkook started seeing each other. Since that day he walked into your shop with his torn shirt, a thread of connection was spun between you, and what started as something delicate, tentative—like a stitch holding two fragile fabrics together—soon grew into something much stronger, blossoming from strangers to friends, to finally, without much fanfare, to a couple. You’ve gone from quiet cups of coffee shared in the mornings, the smell of roasted beans lacing the air between you, to nights spent curled up together on his sofa, the noise of the world fading away, leaving just the warmth and quiet intimacy of kisses. You’ve woven yourselves securely into each other’s lives, slowly, stitch by stitch, until the fabric of your days has become so interwoven that it’s hard to remember what life was like before the other.

There’s an ease to your relationship now, a rhythm you’ve both fallen into—domestic moments that feel as familiar and comforting as the soft creak of old wood beneath your feet in the shop. You cook together, hands brushing as you pass ingredients back and forth, Jungkook’s arms sneaking around your waist to tease you, pulling you closer just for the joy of feeling your body near his. You help each other with mundane tasks—he rearranges your bolts of fabric while you pin a garment to a mannequin, and in turn, you fold his laundry as he hums some quiet melody under his breath.

But not everything in this tapestry is perfect. There are pulls, tangles in the threads that remind you of the things you can’t control—the Seraphenti tentacles that constantly test for bonds, seeking to see if they align with others, exploring compatibility in ways that no words could, to merge together and never be able to part again. You’ve learned this since the beginning, understanding that his tentacles are almost their own beings, extensions of him yet with wills of their own. It’s natural for them, simply biology, to seek connections, to sniff and sense, and while you try to remind yourself that this is simply part of who he is, it doesn’t stop the sharp tug of fear when you see those tentacles reach for someone else, when they can’t seem to even recognise your presence. It made you feel a little nervous but had never truly been an issue in your relationship—until now.

You are standing in line at a fast food stall, a simple joy, the scent of fried food and warm spices lingering in the air, when everything you silently feared catches up with you, when the sky above is bruised with twilight, such as your soul soon will be. 

It starts as one of those easy moments that feels like the perfect stitch at the end of a long day—a moment of peace, of completion. But then, a female Seraphenti joins the line next to your stall, her silvery skin catching the fading light like a needle glinting in the sun.

You feel the change in Jungkook before you even see it. His body tenses, his movements growing hesitant. You look up and see his tentacles rising slowly, drawn towards hers as though pulled by an invisible thread. Your heart skips a beat, then begins to unravel, that quiet sense of peace fraying as you watch his tentacles move closer towards hers with instinctive curiosity. They hover between them like two stray threads, exploring, seeking a bond, and your chest tightens, painfully so. You try to swallow the bitter knot of jealousy that forms in your throat, but it just can’t go down, too raw, too sharp.

Jungkook’s face pales beside you, and you can see the silent dread and panic in his eyes. He glances at you briefly, as if to reassure you, but it does nothing when his eyes tell. You stand there, frozen, the world around you tilting again, as your eyes focus solely on the quiet, delicate dance of their tentacles. They move closer and closer, testing, curious. And the worst part is that this isn’t some conscious decision of his—this is simply biology, a force stronger than either of you. But knowing that doesn’t stop your heart from sinking like a stone in a bottomless well.

Time seems to stretch and elongate like a spool of thread unwinding too quickly, and the tension becomes unbearable for you. The female Seraphenti seems uninterested in anything but the exploration of the menu ahead, her tentacles floating lazily in the air, waiting for the connection to either solidify or break apart. Jungkook watches with a grieving expression, his hands clenching and unclenching at his sides, but then, with a sudden, vicious snap, his tentacles attack hers, which recoil with equal ferocity, as Jungkook lets a breath of pure relief escape his body.

There’s a soft gasp from the crowd around you, eyes drawn But it’s short-lived, as the gasps of the crowd around you is heard, Jungkook winces, and you notice immediately that one of his tentacles is curling back toward him, wounded. You’re at his side before you even think, your hands brushing against his arm as you whisper, “Let’s go home.”

He nods, his face still pale, and together you leave the stall behind, walking in absolute silence. His injured tentacle hangs limply, the fabric of your connection feeling threadbare, frayed by what just happened. You can feel it—both the physical pain in him and the emotional sting in yourself, the wound of knowing that his tentacles sought something with another, even if it didn’t take root.

Back at his flat, the quiet is almost suffocating you as Jungkook glances at you with eyes filled with relief, shame, and something you can’t quite place. He sinks onto the sofa, his movements defeated, and you immediately fetch the small first aid kit from his bathroom. And still, Jungkook only watches you in silence as you kneel beside him, your hands gentle as you begin to clean the small cut on his tentacle. There’s a strange sort of comfort in this—tending to him, mending the damage like patching a torn garment. But underneath it all, there’s a sadness that you can’t shake, something threatening to break everything fully.

You move carefully, your fingers working with the same precision you use when sewing—steady, practised, almost automatic. His tentacles, usually so independent, seem to allow your touch this time, curling slightly but not retreating. You feel their warmth under your fingers, the living pulse of them, and for the first time, they seem to recognise your presence not as something to ignore or push away, but as something to co-exist, if only just.

As you prepare the needle to stitch the small tear, you try to lighten the mood, though the weight of earlier still hangs between you both. You glance up at him with a faint smile and joke, “I’m sorry I’m missing the nurse outfit. Would’ve made this whole thing more convincing, don’t you think?”

Jungkook looks down at you, his confusion evident. “A nurse outfit?”

You laugh softly, though the sound is fragile like your nerves, thin like thread worn from overuse. “Yeah, you know. Nurses—like the assistants to doctors. They take care of people when they’re hurt. Stitch them up, give them medicine, that sort of thing.”

He frowns slightly, thinking it over. “Like a healer’s apprentice?”

You nod, threading the needle carefully, the familiar rhythm of sewing calming your nerves slightly. “Sort of. They don’t do the magic or the rituals, but they do everything else. They’re the ones who actually keep people alive most of the time.”

Jungkook’s lips twitch into a small smile, though there’s still a lingering sadness in his eyes. “You’d make a good nurse,” he says quietly. “Or a healer’s apprentice.”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “I’ll stick to tailoring for now. But thanks.”

The silence that follows again is filled with unsaid words and emotions. You finish stitching the wound, tying off the thread with careful fingers, but as you do, the lingering ache in your chest only grows sharper, the tentacles again retreating from you in an instant. You place the needle aside and sit back on your heels, exhaling slowly as you try to steady yourself.

“I’m sorry,” Jungkook whispers suddenly, his voice full of sorrow. “I hate that this happened. I hate that you had to see it.”

You glance up at him, and the raw sincerity in his eyes makes your heart twist painfully. “It’s not your fault,” you whisper back, afraid that if you speak any louder, it might shatter you whole. “I know it’s just… how things are. But that doesn’t make it any easier.” You lower your gaze, feeling the familiar sting of tears welling up behind your eyes. “It’s hard not to feel like… one day, your tentacles are going to decide I’m not good enough. That there’s someone else out there who fits you better.”

Jungkook’s expression saddens even more, and he reaches out, his hand finding yours, even if it’s the only thing searching for you. His fingers are warm and big, as he squeezes your hand tenderly. “It doesn’t work like that,” he says softly, though you know its a lie. “They don’t decide everything. They’re curious, yes. But they’re not the ones who get to choose who I love.”

You know he’s lying, you know he’s only trying to mend what’s broken. “But what if they do? What if one day, they find someone else and—”

“I’ll fight them,” Jungkook interrupts, his voice resolute. He looks at you with such conviction, such certainty, that for a moment, you almost believe him entirely. “If they ever try to pull me away from you, I’ll fight them. Because I don’t want anyone else. I want you.”

His words hang between you, like the final knot that holds the end of a stitch secure, binding it in place so it won’t come undone. And though there’s still doubt lingering in your heart, there’s also a quiet hope you want to follow blindly.

You manage a small smile, though your voice trembles slightly when you speak. “I hope that’s true,” you whisper, now lying to yourself as well. “Because I want you too. More than anything.”

Jungkook leans closer, brushing a stray lock of hair from your face, his fingers lingering against your skin like the brush of soft fabric. “It is true,” he murmurs, his voice low. “I promise.”

Jungkook then kisses you slowly, tenderly, like he has so many times before, but now there’s a sadness, a longing beneath it. You can feel it in the way his lips move against yours, the way his breath is restricted, the way his touch lingers longer than usual. It’s in the soft pull of his mouth, the way his fingers hold you like he’s afraid you might slip away. His fear, his desperation—they seep into the kiss, bitter, and you taste it with every breath, every trembling press of lips.

He pulls you onto his lap, his arms wrapping around you instinctively, holding you close, as if your bodies can protect each other from the truth untold. Your hands find their way to the back of his head, fingers threading through his hair—soft, silken strands flowing between your fingers. His hands glide up from your thighs, tracing your spine, pressing you closer as they move higher, over your back, until they reach your neck, cradling it with a touch that is both tender and desperate. He holds you like you’re the last solid thing he can grasp in a world that’s threatening to crumble.

The kiss deepens, turning heated as the desperation between you grows. Your fear mirrors his, gnawing worry that clings to your being, tightening in your throat. You can’t stop thinking about the possibility of losing him—of waking up one morning, still wrapped in his arms, only to have him slip away from you without warning some hours later, taken by a bond you have no control over. The thought haunts you, lingers in your mind as your kiss becomes more frantic, more painful. It’s like you’re both trying to escape the fear, but the harder you cling to each other, the closer it seems to get.

Jungkook lifts your small form effortlessly, carrying you to his bedroom without breaking the kiss, his steps hurried, like he’s trying to outrun something. When you finally reach the bed, your hands are on him, frantically pulling at his clothes with shaking hands as he pulls at yours, both of you desperate to strip away the layers separating your skin. You kiss him harder, desperate to forget, to lose yourself in him, to forget the race against the clock that neither of you wants to see.

You can barely savour this moment, the moment that should have meant everything, that moment when you finally allowed your bodies to connect in the only way possible. You don’t even stop to take in the sight of him—the way his body is revealed to you, inch by inch, until he stands before you completely bare. You don’t take the time to marvel at his beauty, the strength of him, the way he seems to tower over you with his sheer size. All you can think about is the sadness, the dark cloud that lingers over this moment, threatening to suffocate any joy you might have felt. You barely even register the difference between your bodies when he finally presses into you—his size, the way your body stretches around him, the sharp sting of pain that follows. It’s all distant, muffled, like you’re watching it happen to someone else, detached and numb.

But Jungkook’s eyes, they’re wide, filled with sorrow and longing, and his voice breaks as he whispers, over and over, a chant of reassurance that he’s trying so hard to believe. “I love you. I love you. I’m never letting you go.” He repeats it like a mantra, as if saying it enough times will make it true, will make the fear disappear.

But the words only echo between the slap of flesh, but you can’t find the strength to respond. You want to—want to tell him you love him too, that you’ll never leave, that you’ll fight for this with everything you have—but the cloud has taken hold, and the words stick in your throat, unable to escape. Instead, you stay silent, letting his words fill the space between you, hoping they’re enough for both of you, even as doubt and sadness weigh heavy on your chest.

And when you both reach that moment of release, it feels hollow—beautiful on the surface, but fragile beneath. The euphoria that should have filled you instead leaves you feeling emptier than before, breaking your heart even more. You lay there with him, tangled in the sheets, your bodies pressed together, but it’s as though a chasm has opened up between you. This isn’t how it was supposed to be. This isn’t how you imagined your first time with him, how you thought your love would feel.

Instead, all you’re left with is the silence that follows and more tears in your eyes than you can hold back. You wonder if this is your new reality—living each day with the constant worry that he might be taken from you. You wonder if the love between you might not be enough to keep you together in the end. You wonder if you’ll ever be able to look at him again without that pang of uncertainty and sadness.

You wonder…

masterlist • 2

a/n 3: hope you've enjoyed it👀 lmk what you think in any way you like!

a/n 4: please send me a message, ask or comment if you would like to be tagged for part 2 and eventual bonuses 💕 also - character asks and drabble requests are open

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

All Rights Reserved © @/runariya 2024

[txttletale]

If we're asking about games on your list of favourites, as someone who adored Paradise Killer, I'd love to hear your thoughts on it! I always enjoy your analysis.

so first of all the aesthetics of paradise killer are really good. usually games that were written in english but read like translations from japanese irritated me, but here i think it is very much leaned into and embraced as an aesthetic and set of cultural signifiers in its own right, which i really enjoy. the character designs are outlandish and charming. but what i really like about it is like, the way the core premise works

in most detective games, there is a correct answer, and not getting it is a failure state. you can't end a case in ace attorney with your innocent client being convicted, you can't get the wrong guy in the frogware sherlock holmes games. and this invariably, even if the game is critical in other aspects, tends to come around to a fundamental faith in the legal system and authority, right--something that's kind of baked into the detective genre at a fundamental level.

paradise killer upends that by simply saying "you are the detective. get the facts you need, make a compelling argument, and if the authorities above you believe you then you get to distribute justice as you see fit." you arrive on the island you're investigating and you're immediately told "hey, this member of a disenfranchised underclass did it, we've already arrested him, here's the evidence." and absolutely nothing stops you from taking that evidence and walking into the trial room and presenting it and saying "yep, he did it!" and beating the game! it's not a 'bad ending', you don't get a big popup saying 'you're wrong', the powers that be just accept the convenient narrative you've been given to present and everything moves on.

i like this from both, like, an ideological perspective, and also from an interpersonal stakes perspective. in most detective games, you can't miss a crucial piece of evidence, either because the game will not proceed until you pick it up or because you'll be forced to restart the 'trial' or 'deduction' segment when you game over because you're missing it. in paradise killer, whatever argument you put forward, if enough evidence supports it--even if you know for a fact it's wrong!--leads to the person you're accusing being executed. so the stakes are much higher, right, because instead of a game over screen and trying again, getting it wrong means that's just... how the game ends, with an innocent person being executed.

and more importantly i think it does a fantastic job--better imo even than something like disco elysium--at deconstructing the fantasy of justice. a constant theme of the game and something that the protagonist repeats often is "there is a difference between facts and the truth". you can withhold evidence at trial because it implicates your friends, or misrepresent it to implicate that bitch you hate. nothing in the system exists to stop you getting wrong, in fact your superiors encourage you to make the easy completely stritched up conviction and move on with your life.

and at the end, even if you get it right, if you catch all the criminals--all the time you spend investigating this island shows that, like, the society you're part of is fucking evil! you're all deranged immortals making constant human sacrifices to your evil gods! and you don't change that by solving the case, the whole thing just packs up and moves on. you don't get any comfortable resolution to that or to your role in it. you can play lady love dies as a diehard true believer or as a dissident rebel but either way she's ultimately just another cog in a machine, dispensing an alien and uncaring justice that is only attached to any real morality or truth by your decision to do so. a genuinely incredible game.

plus i like how whenever you open it a voice says 'paradise killer' so you know you're playing paradise killer

[byunpum]

Back to you | Part 1

Pair: Jake(human and avatar) x Neytiri x Human reader (trio couple)

Warning: None, i think kinda sad. More in future, maybe soft-smut in the future.

Note: I'm still alive after disappearing for 1 month. Ahh omg, it's been so long, I'm so sorry. A lot of things have happened, more good than bad. But we're back…and as I had posted. Here I bring you this story, based on my mini-series 'mama's boy'. Here I share with you how our characters are paired up. I hope you like it, and let me know what you think and if I should continue with the mini-series. Love ya <3

+Read 'Mama's boy' HERE+

AVATAR MASTERLIST| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 (final)

You were feeling uncomfortable in the metal chair, which was placed next to the bonding machine, which allowed humans to use their avatars. Since the routine expedition, Jake had not returned. Everyone knew he was alive, but where was he? No one knew. Grace had asked you as a favor to monitor him until he returned. You weren't complaining, but you had avoided having any contact with Jake. He reminded you of things…Not even 20 minutes had passed, when the machine made a noise indicating that it would open. You get up from the chair as quickly as you can, to assist Jake. You help him open the lid, finding a confused, sweaty Jake with a stupid grin that made your heart pound. “You won't believe where I am?” says Jake, as you let out a big sigh and shift your gaze to Grace.

“Oh my god…you're back!!!” shouts grace from her desk. Coming towards you, she was already releasing a machine to take jake's blood pressure. “Grace…I'm in” says Jake, the man was lying on his shoulders. He was still a little weak, you force him to drink water from a bottle. Taking his chin to make him open his mouth. While grace looks at him with confusion. “What?” grace continues to work on adjusting the machine on his arm. Jake had been so many hours without using his body, he could pass out at any moment. “Yes…they accepted me. I'm inside their home” jake, looks at you. “You're in the tree home?” you ask. You watch as he nods his face quickly. Grace takes jake's face in her hands, and gives him a warm smile. “I can't believe it…are you serious?!!!” grace was shocked. They had tried to get in, but it was impossible. “I'm with a girl…ahhh netyy ahhh” jake tries to remember and pronounce the name correctly of the girl who is supposed to help him adjust. “Neytiri?” you speak softly, but loud enough for jake to hear you. “Yes her” jake speaks up.

Grace looks at you quickly and she can see the sadness in your gaze. You change your face and mood, moving away from Jake, helping him to put his weight down. Turning away from them, you bump into norm who had approached you moments before. “Are you okay?” norm asks, touching your shoulder, but you push him away. Walking as fast as you could away from them, you wanted to get out of there. You felt short of breath and were wiping away tears hiding your emotion. She was fine. It had been so long since you had heard from her. On the other side a group of friends are confused, “What's wrong with her, did I say something wrong?” asks Jake, looking at Grace. The woman was still looking towards the exit, sighing deeply. “It's a long story…come on out of there you need to rest and tell me everything” says grace, helping Jake into his wheelchair.

Lunchtime came quickly, and the entire team was gathered in the dining room eating dinner. The group of scientists were very excited and focused on every word that came out of Jake's mouth. It had been so long since they had been able to have a connection with the Omaticaya clan. Even grace was giving him their undivided attention. Meanwhile you and norm were standing a little away from the group, eating the disgusting food. You couldn't help but laugh at the look on norm's face, you could tell he was very upset. You kicked his foot a little, “hey get that face away” you scolded him, but you saw how he snapped with his teeth. “I can't stand this… it's a very unfair” norm says. “Unfair?” you ask, as you put a mouthful of food in your mouth. “Yes, Tom has been studying for 3 years and I've been studying for over 6 years…and where am I? sitting here, doing nothing. In fact, if anyone in the whole RDA deserved to be with the omaticaya clan, it's you. You've been in pandora all your life…you're part of the clan” speaks norm annoyed, seeing how you interrupt him with your index finger. “Ah ah was…past!!!” you speak, lowering your gaze for a moment. Some memories come to your head, yes, it was very true what norm said, you were once part of the omaticaya clan…but it's been so long. Maybe… they have forgotten about you. “Norm…I understand your discomfort, but there's nothing we can do, the pretty boy was lucky to be accepted” you joke, seeing Norm's disgusted face. “Jake pretty boy?!!!! You have to be crazy” you laugh loudly, looking at the group of scientists who were still harassing jake. “Well…you were tom's girlfriend, that says a lot about you” Norm says, now he was the one laughing at you. “We weren't boyfriend and girlfriend…we just spent a few nights together” you speak up, laughing with your friend.

While you and Norm were still laughing, for a moment you see Jake look at you and give you a smile. You return it, seeing how jake makes a help signal with his hands. You laugh even harder, but you feel Norm pinch you “don't be fooled by the enemy” says Norm “Norm let me go!!!” you roll your eyes back. Norm could sometimes be very very annoying. But you were used to it, he had always been like that.

You remember when norm and tom came to pandora. Just for their studies, and you were the first to meet them. From then on… you had grown very fond of them. When the news that tom had been killed reached your ears, you were heartbroken, again…but you got over it little by little. But with the new member of the group, it wasn't very easy. Since Jake had arrived, he hadn't taken his interest in you, and to make things worse for you. Grace had delegated all responsibility for Jake's avatar to you, so if anything happened to him it was your fault. And the last thing you wanted was for a $20 million dollar avatar to happen to him, or else the RDA was going to kill you.

After the meal, and when everyone was about to go to their respective rooms. Norm had gone ahead walking as fast as he could through the cold corridors of the RDA. You were walking more calmly, plus you wanted to meet Jake. You felt you owed him an apology for leaving him alone. By pure chance you find him, you see that he was talking something with Quaritch. You look at him with concern, if you knew one thing, it was that quaritch never had good intentions, if he wasn't given anything in return. When you see both men stop talking, you decide to approach jake. “Hello” you speak softly, catching the man's attention. Jake turns around, with a small smile. Lifting his gaze. “I'm all ears” jake says. You had barely spoken to jake since he arrived, so you were a little nervous. “One question…ahh where did you leave my avatar?” you ask. “Your avatar? It's in a safe place” jake says. “Yeah, but what safe place?” you wanted him to be more literal, because his concept of safety might be very different from yours. “I'm sleeping in some kind of giant leaf…ahh I don't remember” jake speaks up, shuffling his hair.there was a short silence between the two of you, but you decide to speak. “You're in the big tree?” you speak. Jake can see your eyes light up for a moment. “Yes…that. There I am” jake can see you kneel down in front of him, and move much closer. Placing your hands on his knees. As if whatever you were going to ask him, you didn't want anyone else to hear. “And how did you see everything? Is everyone okay?” you ask. “Yeah…normal, there's only one who seems to be a bother and he's warrior…I don't remember his name” jake says and can see how you smile softly. “That's tsu'tey” you speak. “That same one, do you know him?” jake gets closer to your face, and you quickly push him away. “Ahh thank you for answering me…see you tomorrow” you get up quickly, and leave quickly. Before you continue walking to your room, you stop “By the way…sorry for leaving you alone when you wake up, next time I'll take better care of you” you apologize, and turn to continue on your way.

Jake stood there confused, he thought you looked kind of strange. But cute…very cute. He could understand his brother now. Laughing to himself, he started on his way to his room. Although he must admit that he found it even stranger, that you knew the name of that navi. It was assumed that only people who have an avatar have had contact with the Omaticayas, and he understands that not all of them have. How did you know that?

The next day came quickly, and Jake had almost no time to wake up…because he had to get up early. Wiping his eyes, he was already sitting on the edge of the connection machine. “Good morning” you hummed, approaching him. You had a cup of coffee in your hands, offering it to him with some vitamins. “Good morning gorgeous” jake chuckles, as he can as norm makes a dirty face. “Here…you'll need this” you hand him the stuff. “And this?” jake asks. “It's some vitamins that will help your body not collapse from not eating all day and a coffee” you speak, as you practically force jake to take it all. Grace approaches you, accompanied by Norm. “Well, here's the information,” says Grace, showing Jake a screen. On it was all of neytiri's information. You come to Jake's side, looking at the screen with a warm smile. “Please don't disrespect her….y do not be a jerk” norm speaks, giving jake a dirty look. “You're just upset because I'm the one going on a date with the leader's daughter” jake says in a mocking voice. Grace rolls her eyes and tells you to take care of hooking Jake up. As jake lies down, you approach him. “ Advice…don't try to flirt with neytiri” you speak up. Watching as jake raises an eyebrow, and laughs a little. “There you go…and how do you know that?” he speaks. You now give him a big smile, but one of sarcasm. “I know why I say that” you speak, as you turn away from jake. “You should listen to her,” Grace shouts from the distance. “Good luck…soldier” you speak, being the last face jake saw to wake up in his avatar body.

And yes, jake should take your advice, you knew neytiri more than anyone. And yes you were hating the fact that he could be with her. It had been so many years since you last saw her, you didn't even get to say goodbye…nothing. The last time you saw Neytiri was when that tragedy happened at school. You sigh a little, as you begin to prepare the week's paperwork. But your thoughts are interrupted when you feel grace sit down next to you. “I have good news… a new project is coming out tomorrow,” says Grace. You look at her curiously. “Project?” you ask. Grace's face ascends. “Yes…we need to be closer to the clan, a place we are safe, but we can still get on with the project 'jakesully” says grace, watching you laugh. “I was able to convince the RDA idiots to have a bunker, where we can have a team, a small lab. i'm counting on you, right?” grace looks at you with a raised eyebrow, waiting for your answer. “Can I refuse?” you speak, feeling Grace hug you and press a kiss to your hair. “It'll be for the best… we'll have a great time, no personal space” grace jokes, as you groan loudly.

And as if by magic, within a week you were in the bunker in the middle of the jungle. Norm, grace, judy, jake and you. Although judy came and went from time to time to get everything you needed. Even though she used to get away so often, she was part of the team. You adjusted too quickly, it seemed to be comfortable. And the comfort you felt around Jake was increasing too, and very quickly. This seemed to be nice for grace, she liked to see you happy and excited about something or someone…it had been a long time since she had seen you like this. Watching from afar, as you wiped jake's face with a wet rag. “I'm not a baby” says Jake, as you wipe his eyes. While you hold your face with both hands. “Yeah but you're barely taking care of yourself…I know your avatar body is amazing, but you're here” you touch his chest and feel his heart. “Can you feel it moving? It's that fast for you “ jake jokes, watching you laugh and turn away from him. “That was the worst thing you've said so far” norm complains from behind you, as he sips his coffee.

You liked it when jake would go back to his body in the afternoon, and do his video documentaries. And you could listen to everything he had learned, plus he would also tell you everything he had done with neytiri. “It's just that it's hard to use the bow…it's” Jake would explain with his hands, you could see the frustration in his eyes and gestures. Neytiri could be very rude at times, but that was the way it was and he had to learn. “The trick is to put pressure on the back arm” you move, and show him the pose. “And boom…done” you joke. Jake shakes his head to the side, watching as you continue to explain how he should do things. Just like neytiri was doing, they were explaining almost identically. Jake leans forward and brushes a strand of hair away from your face. Tucking it behind your ear. “Thank you” you speak timidly, now pulling away. “Thank you for helping me” jake says.

Since you had gotten closer to him, he had improved so much with the lessons with neytiri. If she told him something, he would ask you as soon as he returned to his human body. And you answered him without hesitation, sometimes he didn't understand how you knew so much about the clan. Only grace and a few avatars were supposed to have had contact with the clan, norm could know some things. But you were an expert. And your advice is really paying off. Now jake was in his avatar body, he was holding the bow again, and he remembered what you had said to him. “Neytiri was asking you to put strength in your arms, so you will be more accurate in your shooting” jake remembered your words, he adjusted his stance. Neytiri was approaching him, but stopped short. When she noticed Jake's stance, she stood watching him. Seeing how the shot was perfect. “Well done” says neytiri, watching as jake smiles at her. She was wondering how he had improved overnight. But if she could tell, it was the technique jake was using…it was very similar to yours. Neytiri tries to distract herself and keeps walking towards the prey.

For a moment during the day, the two of them had sat down in a nice quiet meadow to eat something to eat…neytiri was minding her own business eating her food. But she could feel jake's gaze, he might change his gaze once or twice. But he would look back at her. “ What are you looking at so much?” speaks neytiri without taking her eyes off her fruit. Jake remains thoughtful for a moment. “That necklace around your neck” jake points to the woven necklace neytiri had around her neck, she touches it while looking at it warmly. “What is it?” jake asks, but he thinks he knows the answer. The reason he's asking is because the night before, when he came over to fix your hair. He could see you had that same necklace, he wanted to believe it was something grace gave you. But today he noticed the same one on Neytiri and was surprised. They were identical. “This…” neytiri holds her necklace tightly. “This is a memory of her” neytiri says, she stops eating for a moment. She could look thoughtful, like she was remembering someone. “Her?” asks jake. Neytiri looks at him slowly, you could see her little teary eyes. But she gets up suddenly, “Come on…we have a lot of things to do” says neytiri. Jake stands up behind her, and catches her hand to stop her for a second. “Neytiri…are you okay?” the boy asks. Neytiri squeezes jake's hand for a moment, looking down and taking a deep breath. “Yes,” she says. Starting to walk to a new route, but Jake could tell how she didn't let go of his grip and continued to hold his hand tightly. Jake didn't refuse at any point, neytiri is not very affectionate to say the least, and the fact that she was still holding his hand. It meant that she needs him right now.

That same afternoon, when jake and neytiri came home from training, they had lunch with the whole clan. And lay down to rest in their respective places, neytiri waited a few minutes to carefully lift her head and see if jake had finally fallen asleep. She had her home with her parents, being still single, neytiri could live with her parents. But right now, she had the task of training and taking care of Jake. So she had to be wherever he was. Neytiri notices how Jake is asleep. Getting up from her hammock, to walk carefully in the branches. Leaving the resting area, running carefully to her ikran. “sense…come on” says neytiri, climbing into her ikran quickly. flying away from the familiar tree, she hopes no one was following her, because she was heading to a place she only knew about.

Not far away, there was a very tall tree. Too tall to be anything but scary for anyone to come and interrupt. Neytiri leads Seze to a giant branch, which had a beautiful view of the jungle of Pandora. Neytiri climbs down from the ikran, stroking the creature's head, stretching a little. To approach the tree trunk, picking up a small bag. Now to sit on the edge of the branch. She sighs a little, looking at the scenery. Opening the bag, and taking out of it a piece of paper. Very carefully she unfolds it and laughs to see what was drawn on it.

A cute doodle drawing…on it were two girls. Neytiri laughs to herself, as she touches the paper wistfully. “I hope you never forget me…my Y/N” Neytiri speaks softly. Hugging the paper carefully, this was the only thing I had of you.

What do you think? should I continue? btw, If you want to be tagged, let me know.<3

[tallulah477]

Feral

Survive The Night Day 2: Predator/Prey

Pairing: Neteyam x Fem!Human!Reader

Warnings: AgedUp!Neteyam, Dark!Neteyam, ***NON-CON***, Dub-Con, Oral (female receiving), P in V, Sex Pollen, Size Difference, Chasing, Primal Play (Predator/Prey Kink), Creampie, Hair Pulling, Knife Play, Restraining Holds (i.e pinning/holding reader down), Fear Kink (?), Alien Genitalia (not really the focus, but its there), Knotting, Belly Bulge

Word Count: 7.3K

A/N: Based off a dream I had where Neteyam chased me through my house and I was running for my fucking life. Why didn't I let him catch me, you ask? Cause dream Talie is stupid.

Summary: You never understood why the Na'vi don't use this particular plant in their healing practices. It's a miracle plant for the humans - cutting healing times nearly in half when used as a topical paste. You would think it would have some similar benefits to the Na'vi. You would be wrong.

**PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS - DON'T LIKE, DON'T READ**

Translations:

Tawtute - Human

Kehe rikx - Don't move

Rutxe ftang - Please stop

Kehe - No

Even considering he’s a nine foot tall blue alien, Neteyam Sully still looks extremely out of place standing on the clean, white tiled floor of the lab. 

His siblings don’t look so out of place when they visit - comfortable and familiar enough within the confines of the lab to make themselves at home among the multitude of beakers, whirling machines, and thick observation glass that make up your day-to-day workplace. Their large bodies twisting and contorting with ease when necessary to accommodate for the smaller space. 

Neteyam isn’t so lucky. He doesn’t like the human facilities, opting to follow in his mother’s footsteps and stay as far away from the skypeople as he can. He’s only here because he was ordered to be, sent by his father to fix his broken throat comm before they head out with the hunting party on a three day hunting trip.

He looks uncomfortable as he stands behind you, back stiff and arms crossed across his broad chest as he watches you tinker with the comm. Repairing tech has never been your strong suit, so it’s taking you a bit longer to figure out than it probably should have, but since you're currently the only person left in this half of the base, the responsibility has unintentionally fallen to you. 

You should be out there too. The thought forms bitterly in your head as you poke at the small opened compartment of the comm with your tweezers. Your favorite part of research is going out into the world and finding the specimens. The lab is great, a fine place for breaking ground and learning new things, gathering knowledge and data about a flora and fauna in a way that no other humans had ever had the opportunity to do before. Pandora is your home, where you grew up and lived your whole life - and yet, it’s still a mystery, and you learn something new and beautiful about it everyday. 

But the real fun is outside the lab. It’s when you're out there, in the thick of it, stepping over breaching roots and feeling the moss of the ground between your toes when you take off your shoes during a rest break. It’s feeling the gentle breeze of air along your skin and hearing the trees rustle in the canopy above you as a result, and pretending that - just for a minute - you can feel the breeze of alien air brush against your face instead of your mask.

Usually one of the older scientists, Alice, offers to stay behind at the lab to run tests and be on call for the Omatikaya should human tech ever be needed. But she’s the most knowledgeable when it comes to locating the elusive and seasonally grown plant that’s come to be known as the Rust Plant. 

So, that leaves you here, on your ass and pouting while everyone else gets to go off and have their fun. 

As far as you know, the plant doesn’t have any special properties or spiritual significance to the Na’vi. But when the red dust-like powder is collected from the center and manipulated into a liquid, the result is a miracle paste that significantly reduces healing time with human injuries. You asked about it once - why the Na’vi don’t try to make the paste for themselves to see if it will work on them - but the only answer you got back was that it had some ‘unintended consequences’ when used by the clan, so they stay away from the plant altogether. 

You don’t think about that when Neteyam walks in. 

The plant mixture, once rust red, is now a beautiful glowing purple inside the beaker - a reaction from the solution added to the powder to form the liquid base. It’s been on the hot plate for a while now, but it’s only just starting to heat up enough to provide small spirals of smoke inside the clear glass. 

You’re glancing at the clock when you hear Neteyam sniff slightly behind you. You don’t turn around, ignoring the little puffs of air that somehow sound like bullet shots in the silence, but a part of you is instantly insecure. What is he smelling? It can't be the mixture in the beaker. Despite the smoke, it doesn’t give off any kind of smell. Subtly, you press your chin to your chest, trying to see if you can smell yourself to find out if maybe it’s you giving off some kind of stench that his overly sensitive nose is picking up on, but you don’t smell anything off about you either. 

The purple liquid is still thin inside the container, needing several more minutes of constant heat in order to bubble and thicken slightly before it can be considered a usable product, but you pause your tinkering on the comm to note the time for the smoke in a small notebook. 

Neteyam lets out a loud sigh when you drop the tweezers to grab a pencil, the annoyed huff nearly ear piercing in the quiet of the lab. This time you can’t help but glance towards the harsh noise, a slight tilt of your head towards the large Na’vi and your eyes meet amber for just a second before they drop again to the paper as you scribble. 

A part of you wants to be snobby, ask a prissy ‘can I help you?’ just because you feel like he’s being so unnecessarily rude when you're just trying to help, but you keep your mouth shut. 

He doesn’t. 

“Are you nearly done?” He grunts, accented tone pitched with agitation as his feet shuffle on the tile. 

“Yes, just a few more minutes,” You say, picking the tweezers back up. “Be patient.”

You think you’ve almost got the comm fixed, just a minor replacement to the tiny inside panel, and you're thankful that’s all it is. It shouldn’t take too long. You’ve nearly got the replacement piece in place now, so all you should have to do is solder it in and it should be fine. Which is good because the sooner you can get this fixed, the sooner you can get the huffy, oversized, unfortunately very handsome despite being an incredible dick of a Na’vi out of the lab so you don’t have to feel him breathing down your neck anymore. 

It only takes another couple minutes for the smoke to consume the rest of the empty space in the beaker, thick white wisps swirling inside of the glass and spiraling out of the top. You drop the tweezers again, cutting the power off to the hot plate and grab the pencil again to log the time. 

Neteyam sniffs again, this time audibly louder and longer, before it sounds like his breath gets caught in his lungs. 

Immediately, your head spins around to stare at him wide eyed, surprise and concern flooding your chest when you notice he’s backed up a few steps. He’s staring at the bubbling beaker, yellow eyes set with suspicion and what almost looks like distress. 

“Are you o–”

“What is that?” He interrupts, voice gruff as his three fingered hand points to the beaker. 

“It’s… the mixture for our healing paste,” You reply, confused. 

“No! What is it?”

“The Rust Plant? The one that grows on the sides of river b–”

You’re cut off again by a sharp hiss, and you have just a second to register Neteyam’s dagger-like teeth as he stalks forward, spitting out a frustrated “You stupid–” before he’s jerking back, hand immediately covering his nose as if to stop himself from breathing.

He looks wild, eyes frantic as he stares at the beaker, and every muscle in his body looks tense, stung up tight like a bow ready to shoot. You’re a scientist, you’re meant to be observant, so you don’t know why you didn’t see it before. But it’s clear as anything now. The smoke doesn’t have any kind of smell to you, but to him - with the way he’s backing away and covering his nose to keep from breathing it in - it must be horrible. 

His tail is trashing behind him, so upset that you think you can almost hear a swish from it cutting through the air like a whip. 

“I need to leave,” He says suddenly. Instinctively, you back up into the desk at the sight of the large and angry Na’vi coming at you again, but he just grabs the still broken comm and turns around to storm out. 

He’s big though, too much for the small space of the lab, and his frantic tail is still thrashing as he turns. The thin appendage accidentally snaps against the side of the still smoking beaker, sending it flying off the desk and onto the ground. 

The glass shatters against the tile, glowing purple spreading across the white floor in a large puddle as the smoke spirals up into the air. Neteyam’s hand instinctively drops from his nose to grip onto his tail, holding the end of it close to him as if to keep it from swinging and smacking into anything else. But you watch, shocked and frozen in your spot as he takes one shuddering breath, and then another, tense back muscles shifting under his cobalt skin with each inhale and exhale of air. 

“Neteyam?” You ask, timidly. Dread shoots through your chest and you have the feeling that something very serious just happened, but you don’t even know what. 

He’s just standing there now, back towards you, but he’s not moving towards the door anymore. It’s like something is keeping him from moving, some unseen force that exploded out of the glass container when it burst and wrapped its tendrils around him before he could take another step. 

Whatever he was smelling from the beaker wasn’t good for him, and now it's in the air, invisible signatures swirling through the small space of the lab, and it's affecting him - the ‘unintended consequences’ of the Rust Plant on the Na’vi.

Your every instinct is telling you to stay away from him, that he’s dangerous. But he’s one of the Omatikaya, and regardless of how he views humans, you know he would never hurt you and disobey his father like that. 

“Hey,” You say, gently. You force yourself away from the desk, slowly moving around him to try to not startle him as you attempt to make your way to the airlock door. “Just relax, okay? Let’s try to air this pl–”

His deep growl has you frozen again, cold ice shoots through your veins at the predatory sound. It’s not a normal growl - not a low, quick sound made in anger or frustration. It sounds dark, a deep dangerous rumbling that came from his chest. A warning. 

You watch in horror as he slowly tilts his head towards you, the pointed tips of his sharp teeth visible under the snarled curl of his lips, glittering in the bright fluorescent lights of the lab. Your brain screams at you to run - danger, danger, danger, it shouts, but you can’t move. The realization hits hard: he’s not Neteyam anymore. The Na’vi in front of you is not the same human-indifferent, scoffing, fearless warrior son of Toruk Makto.

He’s an animal. A predator. 

Feral. 

His golden eyes are now just a thin band of dark honey encircling two endless black holes. And in their reflection you see yourself - tiny and weak. Scared.

Prey.

His body shifts slightly, just the most minuscule movements as he angles himself towards you that you probably wouldn’t have noticed had your survival instincts not been ringing alarm bells in your brain. Without thinking, you grab the hot plate, gripping it tightly at its base and holding it in front of you as your only form of weapon.

“Neteyam Sully!” You shout, and you can’t even believe how out of your mind you are to try to use his full name like an upset mother. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you stop it right now!”

There’s not even a second after the words leave your mouth, not a beat or breath or anything before he’s coming at you. 

Your body registers his sudden movement before your brain does, the roaring snarl bouncing off the walls of the lab as he lunges at you. The hot plate is out of your hands in an instant, the hard base of the plate smacking into his face with a loud cuh-thunk. His snarl is interrupted with a grunt from the hit, body jerking back a step from the impact, and you don’t wait around to see the way his eyes zero in on your retreating form again in rage. 

You can’t think - your body is moving without your brain telling it what to do. Pure panic mixed with raw survival instincts is what drives you through the door behind you, nearly smacking into the wall as you barrel down the main hallway. You hear Neteyam’s footsteps close behind, bare feet smacking against the tile. 

It’s a sound you never thought you would find terrifying. You think of little Mae, the daughter of the staff nurse and one of the science guys, and how the sound of her tiny footsteps stomping on these same tiles floors always brought a smile to your face. You could always hear her coming before you saw her, just a few seconds before she rounded the corner with unsteady steps ready to cause havoc as she tries to run from her exhausted and overstimulated mother. 

These ones are louder though. Heavier, but somehow more quiet as they rush at you from across the unobstructed hall. Your body doesn’t wait for your mind to catch up, and that’s probably a good thing considering you have no idea how the fuck you knew to take the split second turn to your right the exact moment Neteyam tried to pounce. 

You hear his snarl of anger as he rights himself, loud and echoing through the hallway. You’ve managed to best him for a second, but he’s still on your ass - gaining ground on you with his long Na’vi legs despite the cramped human-sized halls. 

Your heart is racing in your chest, pounding with fear, and the adrenaline coursing through your veins is the only thing keeping you going. You can’t breathe - shallow, panicked, quick puffs of air rip from you as you run, your high pitched gasps sounding against the hall walls as a foil to Neteyam’s predatory growls. 

“HELP!” You scream, voice cracking with how loud you're trying to scream. The desperation and pure terror are evident in your voice and you know if someone were around they would hear you for sure. Someone has to be around. They have to be. “SOMEONE HELP ME PLEASE!”

No one responds. No one steps in to intervene. No one even opens their door to try to take a little bit of a peek. No one to run to for help even though it feels like you're about to get mauled to death by a Thanator. 

You’re truly alone. And that thought makes you somehow even more desperate. 

Most people have a tendency to close the doors of their bedrooms, trying to keep as much privacy as they can in the small base. Norm has no such desires, often too excited or too focused on getting to his studies that he outright forgets to close his door. 

It’s a god send now that you’re sprinting through the residency part of the outpost. Your room is one of the last down the hall. You won’t make it. Not with the way you’re shaking right now, body feeling like it's somehow both freezing over with ice and lighting on fire as the fear and adrenaline fight for dominance for your immediate attention. Neteyam’s right behind you, long stride more than twice the size of yours cutting any distance you gained through your miracle of a move back down to barely anything at all. 

He’s going to catch you. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK.

Throwing yourself at a random door is dangerous. Just the extra second it takes to turn the knob and push the door open could almost certainly be the difference between life and death if you even still have a chance at life at all. And even then you run the risk of it being locked. Your eye catches on Norm’s door - open and shining like a beacon of hope amongst the fluorescently lit hallway. 

You don’t have another choice. 

You turn. 

As soon as you make it through the threshold, you slam the door behind you as fast as you can. 

You don’t know what you expected, naively hoping that the door would somehow succeed in protecting you and keeping Neteyam out. It’s not even locked. 

You scream as the door explodes under Neteyam’s weight, the wood splintering as it bursts apart, smaller bits of fragmented wood spraying towards you as the feral Na’vi shoulders his way in. The bathroom to your left is the only option, and you lunge for it just as Neteyam lunges for you. The tears pouring down your cheeks burn your eyes and blur your vision, your loud hyperventilating cries make your throat raw. Another door just barely slammed in his face and your back presses against the opposite door, your panicked hand trying to jiggle the knob but your brain not reminding you how to twist it. This other door hasn’t been used in years - the bathroom that once connected these two rooms together is just used by Norm now since Mary had her baby and her and her husband moved into a larger room to accommodate the crib. It’s locked, and your fingers are struggling to twist the mechanism up to unlock it when Neteyam breaks through. 

Even through your blurred vision, you see it clearly. His arm reaches through the hole his shoulder has made, and the bathroom is too small, too fucking small because that arm looks like its reaching across the entire length of it, fingers splayed out like if he can just get one of the tips to brush you, he’ll snatch you up. 

“HELP!” You scream again. Fuck fuck fuck. You’re going to fucking die. “HELP ME!”

You watch the door in horror as Neteyam pulls his arm back, head dropping to glare at you through the opening, and your veins fill with ice. 

He looks murderous - pupils blown so wide you can’t see the golden ring wrapped around them at all. You want to drop to the ground under that stare, beg for mercy even though the look in his eyes makes it clear there won’t be any. 

“N-Neteyam,” You stutter. Your heart is pounding so fast, blood sounding like it’s rushing in your ears so fast you don’t know how you haven’t had a heart attack yet. “P-please s-stop. P-please.”

His eyes stay locked on yours through the hole in the door, dark and glaring but for some reason he’s paused his attacks. A part of you wonders if your begging is making it through to the non-animalistic part of his brain. Whatever the smoke from the mixture of the Rust Plant did to him, it has to be only temporary. He’s still Neteyam. Neteyam is still in there somewhere. 

“Please,” You try again, voice barely above a whisper. “You’re scaring me.”

He leans forward, one hand curling around the broken wood from the open hole in the door. When he speaks, you don’t know if you’re relieved to hear that he can despite the overwhelming feral actions, or if you’re horrified at how his voice comes out. 

He doesn’t sound like himself at all. His words are clipped, short words made sentences that you don’t understand as both the gravely and growled way he says them as well as overall meaning. 

“Tawtute,” He growls. “Mine.”

“Wha— I-I don’t understand,”

You scream when he hisses at you, long canines and sharp teeth on display through the damaged opening and you have a front row seat to the show as your back presses harder against the door behind you. The hand wrapped around the edge of the hole pulls back suddenly, taking with it a huge chunk of the center and the loud crack and snap of wood snaps your body back into gear. You twist the small lock on the door behind you, unlocking it and wrenching it open when Neteyam throws his body against the opposite door again. You’re out the door and into the next room, slamming the door shut behind you just as you hear the telltale crash of the wild Na’vi breaking through the other barrier. Without thinking, you round the side of the bookshelf that stands on the side of the doorframe. You push with all your might, tipping the bookshelf on its side so that it falls diagonally across the door. A dresser sits just on the opposite side of the door, the bookshelf catching on the edge of the dresser so that it blocks a good portion of the bathroom door. 

Any other time you’d be heartbroken to see the books that fall off the bookshelf in your mishandling scatter along the floor and at your feet like they were nothing more than trash. Today, though, you can’t give a shit about that. 

Your hands grip your hair in frustration as you hear Neteyam’s body barrel into the door, hot tears racing down your face as you waste valuable seconds staring at the bending wood behind the tipped bookcase. It won’t keep him back for long. He could probably easily push it out of his way, but it's something. Your only hope now is that it keeps him long enough for you to get away and that his instinct driven brain doesn’t realize he can just go back the way he came to get around the obstacle. 

Turning on your heel, you sprint out the bedroom door, heading back down the hallway towards the lab. The sound of the loud crash echoing through the empty hall makes you run impossibly faster. Was it the door finally giving way under his weight? Or was it the bookshelf being tossed to the side like it was nothing and he’s about to barrel down the hallway to finish the job that you’ve somehow managed to postpone until now?

You make it back to the lab, foot smacking against the forgotten hotplate still laying on the ground in your haste to get to the airlock. Your hand smacks against the button on the side wall, fingers practically choking the heavy handle as you go to yank it open. The oxygen masks lay forgotten on the shelf next to the door. You don’t care about them, don’t care about breathing right now because what’s good about breathing when Neteyam could end your need for it in just seconds if he catches you. 

The airlock door hisses as the seal breaks and for a split second you think you’ve done it - have somehow managed to survive this deadly game of cat and mouse you’ve inadvertently been forced to play. You can grab a mask and slip inside the airlock. Keep Neteyam locked up here in the lab while you sit safely outside until the others get back or he comes to his senses enough to remember how to open the airlock door himself. 

But no sooner than the thought crosses your mind, an arm wraps tightly around your waist and pulls you from your death grip on the thick metal door. 

You scream as you’re tossed to the floor, body pressed against the cold tile as Neteyam straddles you. His hips pin your legs down, leaving them useless and unable to buck or kick under his massive weight. You beat at his chest with your fists as hard as you can, trying to ignore how they hurt from your balled up fists trying to hit against pure solid muscle. 

Panic manifests in your desperate cries and you aim for his face too, trying to hit or slap or scratch - anything to get him off of you. You feel like an injured animal caught in a trap. And you suppose you are. 

“Get off!” You cry. “Get off me, Neteyam!”

He snarls as one of your hits lands too close next to his eye and he grabs your hands tightly in one of his, pinning them above your head.

Your screams stop, catching in your throat when the bright fluorescent lights of the lab catch on the knife on his hip. The light caresses the blade as he pulls it from its sheath, the sharp tip sparkling as he brings it to press against the base of your throat.

His face is in front of yours in an instant, so close you feel like you can barely breathe in the wake of the knife resting at your throat and the way his huge eyes feel like twin black holes threatening to suck you into their depths if you move even a single centimeter. 

“Kehe rikx,” His words are hardly more than a whispered breath against your face, but their translation rings loudly in your ears. 

Don’t move. 

The point of the knife drags against your neck, scratching lightly as he draws it down your collarbone. It pulls at the fabric at the neck of your t-shirt as he moves it down your chest, stretching and bunching it down as he scrapes the tip through the valley of your breasts. Your heart pounds under the deadly tip of the weapon and your body wants to fight, keep fighting for your life that you know could be taken from you with just a quick movement of his hand, but your fear keeps you frozen. 

Something hard presses against your trapped thighs and your eyes automatically rip themselves from the knife down to the space between your bodies, and your breathing catches in your throat again for a whole other reason. 

Neteyam’s cock is hard in his loincloth, having escaped its sheath and filling out under the thin material enough to raise a sizable tent inside it. 

He doesn’t give you time to react as his head bends down and latches onto the swell of your breast through your shirt, sharp teeth digging into it just enough for marks to surely be left even through the layers of shirt and bra. You yelp, back arching instinctively against the pain, and your body unfreezes as his teeth scrape against your breast before digging into the material of your shirt and ripping.

The loud sound of tearing fabric rips through the room and Neteyam releases the torn fabric from his mouth just to grip it with his hands instead, pulling up and out and exposing your bra clad torso to his darkened crazed eyes. The knife is still in his hand, but the blade is pointed sideways now as he uses the fingers around it to rip your shirt apart. It’s not smart, not a smart idea at all to try your hand at smacking at him again, but you have to do something. 

You don’t know what he wants anymore. What did that mixture do to him? He was chasing you through these halls, growling and snarling like a predator on the hunt for its next meal, and now he’s on top of you - hard and tearing your clothes off like he wants to fuck you. 

You only get a couple smacks in before the knife is back at your chest and you’re forced still again. Neteyam’s eyes are locked onto your chest, following the tip of the knife as he slides it under the band of your bra directly between your breasts. It cuts easily under the pressure of the sharp knife and the covering falls on either side of your chest, leaving you bare to his hungry gaze. 

There’s a mark on your breast from where his teeth had dug into it and he pauses to stare at it greedily. 

“N-Netayam,” You say, slowly. He seems a little calmer now that he has you trapped under him. You need to talk him to his senses. He’s still in there somewhere. He has to be. He’s not all animal. He can be reasoned with. “You don’t wanna do this. Plea–”

Your plea is cut off as he rises off of you, crouching back just enough to give himself room to flip you roughly over on your stomach. You grunt as your bare chest hits the cold tile, arms splayed uselessly on either side of you as you try to get your bearings from the quick movement before he’s using his knife to cut through the denim of your shorts. 

“Neteyam! Rutxe ftang! Kehe!” 

You don’t know why you think pleading in Na’vi will be any different than English, but desperation punches the frantic words out of you before you can even think about deciding to say them. Your hands finally find purchase on the ground beneath you and you try to push yourself up in hopes of crawling away, but Neteyam’s dropping the knife and taking hold of your hips before you can. 

High pitched squeaking sounds hit your ears as he drags your body across the tile. Your hands scramble frantically against the floor as you’re pulled backwards, but there’s nothing to hold onto. They just slide uselessly, voicing their protest in the way the tile screams under your grasping fingertips as you’re hoisted up with your lower half in the air. 

Your back arches against Neteyam’s hold, legs kicking in the air but doing no harm despite their efforts. The hole he’s created in your shorts is enough to have your pussy on display for him, and you can feel his breath on it - hot puffs are the only warning you get before his mouth is on you. Your voice is raw from all the screaming you’ve done, the sound crackling and almost pained as you shout again - shout for him to stop and to let you go as you kick and squirm and beg. 

You want to cry more, any drying tears of fear you have still tracked on your cheeks are replaced with tears of humiliation. Your clit pulses under his relentless tongue, pussy subconsciously clenching around nothing as he licks and sucks over the puffy folds. 

You’re wet. 

You’re so wet already, body confusing the adrenaline caused by fear and desperation and flooding it with the adrenaline that comes with arousal instead. His textured tongue slips across your sticky cunt, licking up your wetness, and a reluctant moan escapes your lips at the rough feel on your sensitive parts. 

A gleam to your right catches your attention and a flicker of hope rushes through you at the sight. Neteyam’s knife is laying on the ground next to you, scattered just far enough when he dropped it that it's a stretch for you to grab it, but not impossible. He’s distracted by your cunt, chest rumbling in what you can only describe as a more aggressive type of purr and your face contorts in unwanted pleasure as the vibrations pulse against your clit. 

You reach for the knife, using one hand pressed against the tile to gain any kind of leverage you can while your other arm stretches out towards the forgotten blade. You're not even sure what you’re going to do with it when it’s in your hand. Would you just threaten him with it? Tell him to back off and that you’ll use it if he doesn’t? Would you cut him a little to show that you’re serious? 

Would you stab him if it came to it?

Your fingers graze along the hilt of the knife, fingertips brushing along the part that it can touch and curling in, trying to coax the knife just a bit closer so you can grab it. Neteyam growls into your cunt, and you let out a gasping curse when his foot lands on your wrist, pinning it to the tile before you can work your hand around the knife. 

“You son of a bitch!” You yell, anger burning through your desperation, but all Neteyam does is push his face deeper into your pussy. His large hands rip at the back of your shorts more, fingers digging into the exposed curves of your ass to spread you apart. 

The pressure in your belly intensifies as he sucks on your clit, laving his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves before wrapping his lips around it in what feels like an almost pleasured punishment. 

You’re going to cum. Fuck fuck you’re going to cum on the tongue of the practically feral Na’vi who just chased you through the halls of your own home and made you think he was going to rip you to shreds and leave you to die on the floor for your coworkers to find. It feels so good, so so good and you wail as your pussy spasms against his relentless tongue, contracting against the wet muscle as the coil in your belly bursts in an explosion of uncontrolled pleasure. 

Neteyam groans against your core, lapping up everything you have to offer as you whine and shake. Your legs, still suspended in the air, are becoming numb - the tingling sensation of your limbs losing their life combining with the dramatic pulsing over your oversensitive cunt. 

You grunt as he drops you to the ground, his foot lifting off your wrist as he crouches back up, and you pull it to your chest, cradling it there and quickly checking for any injury as your body automatically tries to curl up in a protective ball. 

His hands are back on your hips in an instant, pulling you back again across the floor until your ass is pressed up against his front. Your blood runs cold when your bare ass meets bare skin. The bulge that was once blocked by the thin layer of his loincloth is now free - large, dominant, and demanding of attention as it presses tightly against you. 

Demanding of your attention. 

The hand on the back of your neck is uncaring as it pushes you down, forcing your face against the white tiled floor as he lines himself up with your entrance. 

“Neteyam, no! Please!” You beg, even as your back is forced to arch from the exposed position he has you in.

And maybe if this was a different situation, a different circumstance, he would have used this opportunity to tease you. Tell you to stop fussing and stay still. To be a good girl for him while he fucks your tight cunt and maybe if you’re good enough, he would let you cum again. You would let him. Neteyam is beautiful, more handsome than any other Na’vi you’ve ever seen. If he would have been kind to you and shown interest in you like that, you would have agreed to fuck him in a heartbeat. 

But he’s not himself. Doesn’t even have his mind enough to acknowledge your pleas with anything more than agitated snarls and frustrated growls. 

His cock feels monstrous as he rubs it between your soaked folds. Thick and hard as the wetness of his own slick mixes with the sticky mess you have already between your thighs. The head of his cock rubs against your tender clit and you can feel how the sheer size of it forces your pussy lips apart.

You can’t take it inside you. Fuck. You can’t. You can’t. 

You whimper when the tip makes its way back to your entrance, nudging against it before the blunt tip presses forward. Your hands press into the tile on either side of your head, mouth falling open in a silent scream even as he presses your cheek further into the floor as he pushes his cock further into you. You feel every thick inch of it as it spears you open, and you expect it to hurt. It should hurt, especially with the way you’re clamping down around him, body automatically trying to keep it out even as it bullies its way deeper inside you.

There’s pressure, so much pressure. He’s too big, large alien cock way too much for your tiny human body to take, but somehow it is. Your brain is trying to tell you to panic, that the pressure is pain and you should scream and cry and try to wiggle away from it. But it's not. He’s stretching you so much, filling you up - but it doesn’t. hurt.

And that realization hurts you more than the cock currently rearranging your guts ever could.

You know it’s the slick. Despite never being with a Na’vi yourself, you know that the wetness that coats a male’s cock to aid it with slipping out of its protective sheath has something in it that eases the pain of penetration. It’s a good thing. Inherently helpful for any relationship, especially for those between a human and a Na’vi to curb the extra struggle of the size difference. 

You always thought it was sweet. A way for Eywa to reward the loyalty of the good sky people who are lucky enough to find everlasting bonds with her own children. 

Now, the idea of it leaves a bad taste in your mouth as the cock inside you pulls out only to thrust in harder. The texture on his cock scrapes against your slick walls as he starts to fuck you, the bumps and barbs rubbing and pressing against the sensitive spots inside you that you didn’t even know you had. 

A waterfall of moans and whines rip from your throat as he moves faster, your higher pitched pathetic sounds a stark contrast to his deep guttural grunts. His hand is off the back of your neck now, instead finding a place at the side of your face as he keeps you pinned to the floor. It’s so big compared to your head that it spans the entirety of it, thumb hooking just under the edge of your jaw while his fingers curl around the top of your head as he holds you down. 

Your thighs shake underneath you as he pounds into you, thick cock so far inside you that you know there has to be a bulge in your belly. There is, you can feel it. The way the head of his cock pushes against your lower abdomen roughly with each thrust and you know that if you could move your hands from the death grip press they have on the tile, you could feel it disappear and reappear under your palm. 

He adjusts behind you, both feet planted on the ground as he crouches behind you to try to push in deeper. Pleasure soaks into your brain as you subconsciously push back against him, pussy clenching and squeezing around him trying to suck him in. 

“N-Neteyam,” And you have more to say, you do. But you can’t form thoughts anymore. Nothing else will come out other than little punched out breathless gasps. 

It takes you a long time to realize that he’s speaking, and even longer for your fucked up and fucked out raddled brain to register what he’s saying. It’s not normal sentences, it’s not even English. His words are still animalistic, growled through gritted teeth as he spits out broken Na’vi between his groans of pleasure. You grew up with the language, but you’re so distracted, so overwhelmed by him and the cock inside you that your brain can’t seem to latch on to what he’s saying. 

You think you hear the word for ‘whore’, maybe ‘take it’, something ‘baby’ but you can’t be sure. 

And then he’s leaning forward, body curving overtop yours as he covers you completely. It’s only then you feel what you’ve been too distracted to notice. The thick knot at the base of his cock, fully engorged now as it prods at your entrance. 

Your hands finally leave their place pressed against the floor as you throw them behind you in newfound panic. One hand pushes against his abdomen as best as it can, trying to slow his thrusts while the other grabs at his wrist in an effort to pull his hand away from your face. The hand on his abdomen doesn’t do anything to slow his relentless pace, but the hand on the side of your head moves to tangle in your hair, gripping it in his fist close to your scalp just hard enough to burn a little as he yanks your head back. 

You gasp at the sharp sting and your gasp quickly turns into a whimper as his knot presses tighter against your soaking hole. He’s unforgiving as he digs it against you, holding your hair tight and forcing your back to arch as you stretch even further around it. You’re too wet, pussy too wet and almost greedy and it takes him in, determined despite the obscene size of the engorged ball of tissue.

“Please!” You squeal. Please stop. Please more. “Neteyam, fuck!”

Your eyes roll back into your head when the knot slips inside you, sheathing itself within your heat with another solid push of Neteyam’s hips against your ass. His cock hits that spot inside you that makes you see stars, your vision whiting out and there feels like there’s cotton in your ears as you cum around him, squeezing him tightly as you soak his length in your juices. Your breath catches in your lungs when you feel his cock pulse inside you, twitching and feeling like it’s expanding even bigger as his own orgasm hits him. 

He holds you close, keeping you pinned and still underneath him with the savage hand in your hair and the firm grip he has on your hip - fierce and unmoving as if to keep you from running away.

As if you even could with the knot locked inside you. 

His growl of pleasure reverberates off the walls as he paints yours. Long, thick ropes of release coating your insides and it's so much, so so much that you feel like you can’t fit anymore. Like if he cums anymore, you’ll burst. The knot is still lodged inside you, locked in and refusing to let you free, but there’s no space left inside you, no space, and you feel the excess cum seep out of your hole from around his knot to trail down the insides of your thighs. 

You don’t remember blacking out, and you’re not sure when Neteyam was able to pull free from you or when he passed out next to you either. But when you wake up next, it’s to voices.

“Oh my gosh!”

“Y/N!”

“What the fuck happened?”

The bright florescent lights of the lab are blinding when you try to open your eyes. Exhaustion seeps from every pore of your body and fuck, you feel so sore. 

Norm’s shocked face is looking down at you when your eyes finally adjust to the light, Max and a few of the other scientists are behind him, faces an equal mixture of shock and horror as they stare at you with wide eyes. 

It takes you a moment to remember what happened - why you’re here, waking up on the cold floor of the lab. Naked. You scramble up, hands clutching at your chest as you desperately try to cover yourself. A deep groan to your right steals your attention from your group of onlookers, and your eyes fall on Neteyam, just waking up from his own sleep.

His eyes are back to their normal gold as they open, groggy at first and then alert in a heartbeat as it registers where he is. He’s up in a crouch in an instant, looking ready to fight but not really sure what he’s supposed to be fighting. Those golden eyes catch on the group, confusion twisting on his face and you can practically see the gears in his brain turning as he tries to figure out what’s going on. 

Then his eyes meet yours, taking in your torn clothes and near nakedness, and you sit in horror as it clicks for him what must have happened. 

And you watch as the horror in your eyes becomes mirrored in his. 

**Special thanks to @quicktosimp and @itchaboi-itchyboy for the prompt!

Taglist: @eywaite @loaksulluyswife @erenjaegerwifee @f-cklife @beautiful-brown-skin-05 @minnory @localjasmine @skywonder @neteyamswillow @luvv4j4ybe11 @vampirefilmlover @aria-tempest @pocky444 @bambithewriter @xylianasblog @anemonelovesfiction @criticallybella

**Comment here to be added to/removed from my taglist!

[multi-lefaiye]

not sure who might need to hear this or if it's just me that needs to, but i've had this thought for a bit and i wanna write it out

you are not a machine that exists to make art. you are a human being, and human beings need rest and breaks.

creative block happens. it's natural, and embracing it as part of the process is far better in the long run than stressing out over it.

we live in a world that emphasizes productivity above all else and needing to Make Something, but truly it is not the end of the world if you're not productive 24/7.

[blingblong55]

Pretty thing-König

Based on a request:

konig having a mommy kink.. please

A/N: I am about to make some people mad with this one but it is all for good fun. Also, I don't think this one will be NSFW mainly because I'm not in the mood rn

F!Reader, mummy kink, mummy(okay for the sake of this it'll be mommy) issues, sub!König, praise, civilian!reader

This part of the relationship started after you and he were about to go on a date, "Kö, you're hair is a mess, c'mere." You were always so soft and kind towards him, that is how he feels more like a human than a kill machine. Your hands on his hair, trying to comb it out, he was sitting on the edge of the bed. He never had this with his own mother, having someone to watch out for him, tell him that his outfit had to be changed since the colour didn't match, and the occasional wipe of the corner of his mouth when he ate too fast and had a stain of the sauce.

"Thank you, Schatz." his voice went from the usual cold and low tone to a softer and smaller tone. Then, a week later, as you and him were lying in bed after an eventful evening, he turned to you. "Can I...can I lay my head between your...breasts?" It wasn't because he was exhausted but rather he needed to be that close to you, wanted to hear your heart and for you to play with his hair. Sex was intimacy between two lovers but being held this way by his girlfriend went deeper than intimacy. His head on your breasts, the warmth and connection you two created that night, one he won't forget.

Time after time, you swore he just had a thing for your breasts but it was comfort that he found in those vulnerable times. At times, when he was mentally exhausted, he'd cry on your chest, the way you wrapped a blanket over him and hummed as you spoke, was heaven and comfort. Then, later on, he realised he had a mommy kink, liked the way you took control of the relationship, how you had become his girlfriend but also the mother figure that he never had as a child.

Growing up in a household run by his father and brothers was not what the young socially anxious boy needed. He needed a mother who would hold his hand or rub his back when she saw the signs when out at a social gathering. When you came along and started to treat him like a mother would, that's when he knew he was in the safest arms the world could offer. You were so delicate with him and at times, he had to admit he liked how you pampered him, how you called that giant military machine your baby and adorable.

During sex, it was just the same, he'd let you take control but only if during aftercare you could baby him and cuddle him. "Mommy-" he froze as he realised what he just called you. "Schatz, I'm sorry." You thought it was adorable, it was a huge accomplishment in your relationship when he found comfort and trust in you. "Oh könig, don't say sorry." You wrapped your arms around him and soon after that, behind closed doors that became the secret name he called you. "Mommy, please...just one more kiss, I promise I won't ask again." He had become very needy and dependent on you at home and wanted you next to him at all times.

"Mommy, where are you!?" he called out seconds after you walked to the kitchen for water. "Mommy, here you are!" his arms wrapped around your waist, he lifts you from the ground and walks back with you to the sofa. "I love you, Mommy." he kisses your cheek and you snuggle to him, "I love you, baby."

A/N: My apologies if this is all over the place,

[dearmantis]

So I stayed in the darkness with you

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova/The Darkling x wife!Reader

Summary: When you finally wake up and the joy of seeing your husband alive and well dies down you have a conversation you've always wanted to avoid.

Warnings: mentions of death, murder and violence, mentions of grisha persecution, this is not a healthy relationship but they love each other very much, slight gaslighting, mentions of human trafficking

Word Count: 3.6k words

Authors Note: I really thought I would never write this, but I'm having a rare moment where I crave comfort. Also, a few people asked for this (and apparently, some people cried after part 2??? I'm so sorry about that I hope you guys are alright now!). I think this is the end of this? Its not the ending I expected when I first wrote the A lost embrace one shot but it is where we ended up. I hope you guys like it :) I'm not a native English speaker and this isn't edited.

The title of this part (and the name of the series) is from Cosmic Love by Florence + the Machine

Previous Part | Masterlist

When you wake up, it's to the sound of a few birds chirping outside and waves crashing against rocks. You don't open your eyes for a while, instead choosing to enjoy the soft atmosphere around you, letting yourself glide into consciousness slowly and carefully.

It's warm and soft, wherever you are. You feel safe.

Your arms and legs still feel a bit sore even without trying to move them, so you simply breathe in and back out, enjoying the fresh air that faintly smells of lavender, salt and rosemary.

With every minute you spend laying there, eyes still tightly closed, you notice more things around you.

A weak breeze moves the leaves on a tree outside. Occasionally, you can hear muffled steps coming from somewhere other than wherever you are right now. Someone other than you is in the room, fabric rustling quietly when they move. You're not afraid.

It takes a while until you feel ready to try and open your eyes, and when you do, your gaze imediately and instinctively move to the chair next to your bed where your husband is waiting for you, his dark eyes glued to your face and a glass of water in his hand. He's not wearing his kefta, you notice. Just a black shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Not a single speck of gold is visible on him.

A small smile charms itself onto your lips before you can stop it.

"Do you feel ready to rejoin the world of the living?" he asks quietly, waiting for your nod before reaching over to hold the glass of water against your lips.

You empty the glass quickly, your dry throat desperate for any kind of liquid. He takes the glass away slowly, moving to fill it up with more water before placing it back against your lips.

You drink three glasses of water that way. That's how much you need to drink to banish the itching from your throat. Damn those soldiers.

"How long... how long was I asleep?" You ask after Aleksander places the glass back down on the nightstand next to the bed. He doesn't respond for a while, instead moving carefully to check if your body is fully tucked in and warm under the thick blanket covering your body.

"Two weeks," He answers finally while he shuffles around. "You were woken up a few times to make sure you eat and drink, but I doubt you remember that. Fedyor thought it was best if your body got time to recover energy on its own. The two weeks in the cage, the torture, the starving and dehydration, lack of sleep, and even the healing took a huge toll on your body."

The Shadow Summoner moves back to his chair, but before he sits down, he checks if your pillow is fluffy, his gaze awfully serious considering his current task.

Letting the information settle for a bit, you look around in the room you're in. You don't recognize where you are. The old, dark wooden floors are new to you, just like the walls decorated with small drawings and letters you're too far away from to read. When you look outside, you see the ocean.

"Where are we?"

Your hand moves to grab Aleksanders wrist before he can step back to sit down on his chair again, carefully pulling him closer towards you. He looks tired, deep shadows visible below his dark eyes. He needs to rest, probably more than you do, considering you apparently slept for two full weeks. A small, amused smile finds its way onto his lips before he carefully moves to sit down next to you on the large bed you're occupying. You move to give him space, encouraging him to lay down instead of sitting.

"I'll be more relaxed if you're next to me," you reason when he tries to argue, and the mighty, dangerous Darkling gives in, slipping under your blanket and resting his head next to yours on the pillows. You're still mad at him, a deep-rooted hatred for him burning deep in your chest, hotter than the sun itself, but feeling him next to you is nice. It almost feels safe.

Once he settles down, he answers, his voice even quieter and softer than it was before.

"In Fjerda. Kenst Hjerte, to be exact."

Ulla. You're with Ulla. Outside of Ravka. Away from everything he has built. Away from his sun summoner.

"Ivan is still in Ravka with a few others to make sure that no Grisha are left in cages. The rest is up here."

You want to say something, like acknowledge the fact that it must've been almost impossible to move a large group of Grisha through Fjerda undetected, but you don't want to interrupt him. He has that far away look in his eyes, and you assume this must be the first time he's letting himself actually work through and think over the events of the past month.

"Ulla wasn't particularly excited to see such a huge group, you can probably imagine. She has never been fond of company, after all, but she accepted it as long as she could stay away, and I don't tell anyone about her presence."

A smirk appears on his lips, and his eyes find yours. "The last bit that convinced her was the absence of Baghra, of course. As soon as she found out that she was still in Ravka, she was suddenly alright with everyone staying as long as the group doesn't pull attention towards the islands, and no one get's close to her."

Mirroring his smile, you watch him for a few seconds, carefully turning your body to lay on its side.

"So we're hiding again."

Aleksander opens his mouth to respond, probably ready to justify his decision, not realising that he doesn't have to. You're glad. Disappearing back into hiding is arguably the first sensible decision he has made since the sun summoner showed up. You're just surprised that he got to this decision himself. He's usually not someone who admits defeat, at least not without you forcing him to. You expected him to do something stupid, like try to fight the entire First Army and the Sun Summomer on his own and get killed in the process.

"I've never really been in hiding before, not since I was a child, at least. Most of the others never had to be. This will probably be really weird, but I'm excited to learn. Are we going to stay here or move somewhere else?"

He seems a bit surprised by the fact that you're not against his decision, pausing for a few seconds to study your facial expressions before he answers.

"I hope to stay here as long as possible, but we have to be prepared to leave any minute. I hope that Ivans group can collect the last Grisha that don't want to serve Vasily and come up here without attracting too much attention, but it's impossible to tell if that will work out."

You nod slowly, carefully putting together a picture of what has happened in the month that you've been out of the loop.

"Do you think there's a risk that Vasily could find out that we're hiding here and tell the Grimjer family? Maybe as an offering of some kind to kindle peace between Ravka and Fjerda and end the war?"

The darkness that flickers in his eyes for just a second makes clear that he has thought about that possibility as well. It would make sense, after all. Give up the Darkling, his wife, and the Grisha that side with them in exchange for peace. You are all considered enemies of the ravkan royal family anyway, so it wouldn't be a loss for Vasily.

"The risk is always there, but I have hope that the preparation of the royal wedding will distract everyone enough to make sure that we can get everyone out of the country without anyone noticing. The people want to celebrate their sun queen and hope for a better future. It should be easy for skilled soldiers to get through and out of the country unnoticed."

It takes you a few seconds until you realize what he just said, and when you finally do, a confused frown appears on your face.

"Sun queen? Is Vasily marrying Alina?"

Aleksander nods.

"And you're not... you're not on your way to rip him to shreds and take her for yourself?"

He let's out a long, loud sigh and turns his head to look at the ceiling, choosing to stay silent for so long that you start to believe that he's not going to respond at all. The only proof that you have that he's actively thinking about his response are the shadows slowly crawling over the floor and walls, swallowing the room and covering you under the familiar blanket of his very own darkness.

You have spent many private moments like this, cloaked by his powers, including your first kiss, your first time sleeping together, and your wedding night. As long as he controls his shadows, you will always have a home.

When he finally does speak, it's soft and light as a feather, his voice drifting through the air like an ancient melody.

"In those two weeks where I was convinced I would be too late, that you were dead, I learned something very important about myself."

Behind him, the shadows crawl up to cover the window, swallowing the last bit of light in the room.

"You are part of me the same way the shadows are part of me. Even if I hate you and you hate me, I can't change that. Losing you would be like losing a vital organ. Even if you chose to despise me for eternity, to never speak to me again, I need to be around you. I'm not fully myself if I'm not with you, sweet girl. You are part of me, just like I hope I am part of you."

You can't see him, but you can hear how he turns his head to look at you. "You can hate your heart and your powers as much as you want, you can't get rid of either. You need both to survive. And I need you the same way."

If anyone else, literally anyone else in the whole world had said this to you, you would've laughed so loud that you could still hear it in the Fold, but hearing those words come out of Aleksanders mouth, especially in that tone, makes you pause.

You know how he sounds when he lies, how his tone shifts to make every word sound just a bit smoother, a bit more convincing, but none of those signs are noticeable now. It's just his voice, in the same, normal, serious tone he uses during important discussions. The same tone he uses when he marries you once every hundred years.

"I have waited many centuries for the sun summoner. I can wait a few more if that means I can keep you with me."

The shadows retreat from the window, letting sunlight back into the room, but they continue to cover the walls, floor, and ceiling.

The light shows you his facial expression, the warm smile that softens his features and smooths the wrinkles in his skin.

"And what if I don't want to stay with you?" You ask quietly, afraid that you could shatter the atmosphere if you speak too loudly. "You hurt me a lot, Aleksander. I don't think I can do this again. What do I do if you randomly decide that you actually want the sun summoner more than me? If you leave me behind? What do I do if she dies and a new sun summoner appears in 300 years and you fall in love with them as well? I can't be your little bed warmer that fills the space next to you until your sun summoner comes back. I'm not strong enough to go through this again. Not tomorrow, not in twenty years, not in a thousand years. I can't do it again."

You try to turn away from him, but before you even get the chance to move, he wraps his arm around your torso and pulls you on top of him, every inch of your body touching his. His large hands cup your face, forcing you to meet his gaze.

"What can I do to prove to you that I will never leave you again?" he asks earnestly, and you can't stop yourself from whispering as you harshly move your head to escape from his grasp, your voice so quiet that it barely makes a sound at all.

"Kill Alina"

Your husband laughs, this time louder, amusement clear in his gaze as he grasps your face once more to make sure your eyes meet his.

"What was that, little wife?"

"What?"

"What you just said. You said something about Alina."

"No, I didn't. What are you talking about? Why would I talk about her while I'm lying on top of you? You must be hallucinating because of how exhausted you are." Your face contorts with mock concern, and Aleksander scoffs, swatting your hand away when you try to touch his face the way he's touching yours. "You should really sleep, my love. This isn't healthy for you at all. Come on, let's sleep. Good night."

You lean forward to press a quick good night kiss onto his lips – more of a peck than a kiss, really – when his grip on your face suddenly tightens, a loud squeak leaving your lips as he pushes you off of him and positions himself above you, switching your positions.

For a few seconds, you just stare at each other, taking each other in for a few seconds until Aleksander slowly bends down to press his lips against yours.

It's a soft kiss. Slow and sweet with an underlying bitterness that you want to ignore but can't.

His weight on you is familiar despite the fact that he isn't crushing you into the mattress the way he usually would, holding himself up with his arms to keep the majority of his weight off of your still recovering body.

When he finally lifts his head and ends the kiss, you smile at him for a second before seriousness washes the softness from your face.

"I'm serious, Sasha. You hurt me. A lot. And I'm not strong enough to withstand this again. If you want your sun summoner, tell me now. I won't even leave, I promise, so you can just tell me. I just want to be prepared, please." Unshed tears fill your eyes, turning your sight blurry as you stare up at your husband who simply watches you, his own face focused solely on you, face blank like a sheet of paper as he listens to your words.

"You left me. After more than 200 years together, you left me for a child. You lied to me and deceived me, pushed me to the side, and ignored me. Two centuries of partnership thrown away because of her. How am I supposed to ever trust you again?"

You regret letting him turn you now. Sitting on top of him gave you a bit of strength, made you feel stronger and bigger than you really are, especially right now in your weakened state. Now you feel small, caged in by his body and his watchful gaze that you're unable to escape. Pathetic, that's how you feel. You should be stronger than this by now, yet here you are, fighting back tears like a child.

"What if you suddenly decide you want her instead of me in a year or two? Do I have to put myself into a life-threatening situation just to remind you that I'm apparently important to you? What will it take next time? All of Fjerda hunting me? Getting sold like cattle in Ketterdam? Experiments in Shu Han? Is that what needs to happen to keep you interested in me? Because that's not worth it, Aleksander. I love you, I do, but I deserve better than that."

He doesn't react for a while, his eyes simply studying your face while he thinks over his response. After a few minutes, he lets himself sink down next to you, laying back on his side, his gaze still glued to you.

Aleksanders dark eyes do not move from you for what feels like hours, taking in every pore, every wrinkle, every bit of texture, taking his time to catalogue every single milimetre of your face in his mind.

He watches how you try to blink away your tears, angry at yourself for showing weakness in a moment where you have to be strong, and he hates himself for pushing you so far away from his heart that you feel like being vulnerable around him, showing weakness in from of your own husband, is a mistake.

He watches you bite your chapped lips, tearing the flesh and covering your front teeth with a bit of blood. An act of self-punishment or a nasty habit you may have developed while he was occupied with Alina? He hates himself more for not being able to answer that question.

It takes a while, but then his hands move to cup your face, holding you like a precious gem, his rough hands suddenly softer than cotton.

Aleksander doesn't tear up like you do. His hands don't shake, and his voice doesn't break when he speaks, but you can feel his sincerity ringing in the air like a bell.

"I'm sorry."

He apologized several times when he found you. Panicked, pained apologies filled with dread and relief and more fear than anyone should be able to feel. But now he's calm. He's not scared of death ripping you out of his grasp in the next minute, isn't trying to lift some of his own guilt off his shoulders before you die in his arms. He had two weeks of processing his thoughts on his own. He had time to think over every mistake he has made, and he intends to right them, starting with you and what he has done to you.

"I'm sorry that I ever made you feel like you weren't enough. I'm sorry for acting like you aren't enough. I'm sorry for forgetting how much greater you are than me. You are and will always be the most precious thing in my life, the most wonderful thing the making could've ever given me. I am a foolish man, but I should know better than that. And you shouldn't forgive me. I do not deserve forgiveness, but I can't help but hope for it anyway. I pray that you find it in your endlessly kind heart to give me one last chance. If you do, my love, my beautiful, wonderful, perfect little wife, I swear I'll make you queen. I will end the Lantsov line and kill the sun summoner and give you the country we once called home. I will give you anything you want, I promise it."

A loud sob tears through your throat, tears running freely over your face and soaking into the pillow below you as you listen to him bear his old, rotten heart and soul to you.

"I don't want the throne," you rasp out. "I just want you. That's all I've ever wanted."

"I know. And I failed to give it to you, but I promise that this will never happen again. Kill me if it does. Stab me in the heart while I sleep, poison my food, slit my throat. I swear that I will not defend myself. Bring my head to the Apparat and let him turn you into a Saint if I betray you again, my love, but please give me this one chance to prove myself to you. I will not fail you again, I swear it."

You almost laugh at that, but the shimmering in his eyes stops you before you can even smile. It's like he's fighting himself to make sure he doesn't cry, reminding you that this is serious.

"I will actually do it, you hear me? If you betray me again, I will rally the Grisha against you. Ulla, too, while I'm at it. They like me more than you anyway. I'll chop your head off and give it to the Apparat and become Sankta Y/N of the dawn or whatever they end up calling me. I'll make sure there are thousands of paintings of how I murdered you. And I'll make it seem like it was easy, too. I'll tell them I overpowered you effortlessly and cut your heart out while you confessed your love to me or something. All of Ravka will make fun of how you died. It'll overshadow the horror stories about the Black Heretic. You will become the joke of a whole nation."

He smiles softly. "I would expect nothing less of you, my love."

You mirror his smile weakly, eyes flickering down to his lips twice before slowly leaning in. Aleksander waits for you, refusing to move while your breath ghosts over his lips.

"Are you sure?" he asks, waiting for you to decide what to do. The tension between you two is heavy, your nose filling with his oh so familiar scent with every breath you take.

"I am," you answer almost silently. "I don't forgive you, not yet. But I think I can give you one last chance. I think I can do it."

Laughing weakly, you continue, "Especially now that I'm allowed to murder you if you betray my trust again."

He hums, his nose brushing softly against yours as he waits for you to confirm your decision.

When you do, your lips pressing against his, it tastes like ash and death, like destruction and poison and chocolate and peace and promises.

It tastes like sin. It tastes like coming home. It tastes like love.

Taglist: @budugu @purebloodwitch @hells-escapees @savagejane1 @deadunicorn159

[eaglyn]

Mr. Crazy and Mrs. Crazier | Dottore x reader smut

Warning: gore, human experimentation, dismantling of a human heart, psychopathic behavior Not proofread

You were just about the perfect being that he could imagine. In his eyes, you were smart, entertaining and downright gorgeous. Normally, Dottore wouldn't think such things about anything he didn't create himself, but you? You were different. You were perfect.

You were a very successful graduate of the Sumeru Akademiya's Amurta Darshan, some even say that you're the most promising student the Amurta Darshan's ever had. That was arguable. On the other hand, it was an unarguable truth that you were insane. You had about as much regard for human life as Dottore, or maybe even less. They tried to change you for some time, after all your knowledge and talent was definitely in the wrong hands considering your usual projects, which more often than not included human experimentation.

Obviously, they failed. When Dottore joined the Akademiya, he heard news of you, and he was intrigued. He searched for you day and night, week after week until you finally decided to see what his deal was, and once you saw his... creative potential, to speak lightly, you decided to teach him all sort of messed up tips and tricks, from the easiest way to disassemble a human body to reconstructing a human body with mechanical parts.

And that should give anyone the understanding of why and how Dottore was kicked from the Akademiya. When they learned of your cooperation with him, they were all but thrilled. In fact, they were mortified.

Dottore and yourself turned into a wicked pair, eventually ending up serving the Tsaritsa, but while he became a Fatui Harbinger, you just remained in the shadows, but eventually earning the rank number 2.5, as you and him practically came as a package deal. You continued working together for centuries.

Unlike you, he had to resort do different means of achieving a long lifespan, but you were always by his side to give him new ideas and help him out with whatever he needed. As such, you went from his mentor to his lab assistant who would sit atop a countertop in his laboratory and entertain him.

Fatui agents would often hear howling laughter coming up from the lab as you two were working on a new project, and could only imagine which part of cutting young humans up was it that entertained the two of you so much.

In reality, you could turn anything into entertainment.

"Why are you holding the scalpel like that? It looks like you're trying to use it as a chopstick." You raised your eyebrows at one of his most recent techniques.

"Criticize all you want, princess, but it's easier from me to cut at this angle. See?" He maneuvered around the current test subject's ribs, attempting to cut her heart out, having a prototype machine in hand.

"Or you could've just removed the ribs? Why are you so afraid to put the device down, it's not like we didn't sanitize everything a few minutes before starting this experiment." You rolled your eyes.

"But we always take the ribs out, and putting them back is such a pain."

"For you. I thought I gave you a detailed demonstration on how to reattach nerves properly. Also, how do you want to take out the heart with everything still in the way?" You crossed your legs, feeling that you've won the debate.

"By taking it apart, of course. The machine is also attached piece by piece, so the lack of open space won't be a hindrance." He grinned back at you.

"Excuses, excuses." With that, you went back to constructing some random trinket out of spare parts.

After a while, he finally managed to remove the heart, taking all the bits in his hand and raising them in the air victoriously.

"AHA! I've succeeded- oh shit..." He dropped one of them onto the floor. He placed the prototype heart down onto a sterile field, along with the scalpel before walking over to you. "Here, I shall give you my heart." With that, he dropped the dismantled pieces onto your lap, staining your pants with blood.

"Ew, you ruined my pants!" You grabbed a few pieces and launched them at his face as a payback.

"How dare you? I give you my heart and you just throw it away? Why so cruel, Y/n?" Both of you break out laughing like maniacs as you continue throwing bits of the test subject's heart at each other.

"Alright, alright, let's compose ourselves now." You said, gathering the bits before throwing them into a jar.

Dottore installs the prosthetic heart and sews the person back up, and after he was done with that, the two of you transported her to a cell.

"Now we just wait to see if the transplant was successful." You hummed in response, glancing down at your bloodstained pants again.

"Oh come on, those are just pants, Y/n." The blue haired man said with his arms crossed over his chest.

"But I liked these pants." You pouted. They were white shorts tailor made for you, and you knew that you'd never be able to get the blood out of the expensive material.

"Well I prefer you without pants, you don't see me complaining." He stepped closer to you, settling himself between your legs as you sat on the countertop. "And without a shirt too."

You grinned, leaning in to kiss him, and he eagerly kissed back, while his hands were already creeping up on your torso underneath your shirt.

"In that case, remove them, Doc." And he just did that. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it over your head, attaching his lips to your neck while you pulled your arms out of the shirt, tossing it onto the ground.

You moaned softly as he continued sucking hickeys onto your soft skin, working on removing the belt from around your waist. When that was done, he pulled your pants down, tossing them onto the floor before going for your neck again, meanwhile his hand pulled your panties aside and he started rubbing your clit with two fingers. You threw your head back, moaning when you started feeling a knot forming in your stomach, but then he pulled his hand away.

"Oh come on." You said, scrunching up your eyebrows.

"It's not fair if you get all the fun and I don't get any." He said before stripping himself of his clothes and going back to you. He unclipped your bra, pulling it off of your body and tossing it away before hooking his finger around your panties and ripping them off.

He took a breast in his hand while using the other to rub the tip of his cock over your clit, lubricating it in the process.

"Please just put it in." You whined.

"As you wish, princess." With that, he shoved his cock into your entrance. No matter how many times you've done this, the first few seconds always hurt. His cock was big by all definition, almost too big. The length couldn't even fit all the way in, while the girth was so thick that you felt like your walls were being thorn apart each time. He slowly pulled out before going back in, letting you adjust a little before he started thrusting at a steady pace.

You hummed in pleasure, feeling his veins graze against your walls, and it was like a little spark ignited inside your stomach every time his tip kissed your cervix. He continued thrusting steadily until he started to see signs of impatience on your face. Then he decided to speed up, kissing you hungrily before doing so.

He shoved his tongue into your mouth as he was thrusting inside you, squeezing your breast once in a while as well. You were a moaning mess, gripping his muscular back with your hands.

The way he felt inside you was intoxicating. You were addicted to him. Only he could make you unfold this way. The way he kissed you with such lust and hunger, and he knew all your most sensitive spots. He knew just how to reach that sweet spot that made you scream out loud in pleasure each time, and when he'd do that, he'd speed up and start thrusting into you at an inhuman speed right afterwards. You felt like your insides were being rearranged, while he just grunted into your ear, telling you how nice and tight you were, just for him.

After all, nobody has seen you like this. Not for a very long time, at least. And you were only the happier to know that you were the only one that he fucked like this, and the only one that he'd keep in his lap, cockwarming him as he did paperwork or some other task that would be way too boring other wise.

And just as always, now too he managed to time his release to yours, and he moaned out loud as your walls clenched around them while he shot his cum deep into you.

But he didn't stop after that, he never does. He waits until you get down from your high before thrusting into your overstimulated pussy for three more rounds, until there is cum dripping down from the edge of the countertop and both of you are completely exhausted.

Dottore then grabs you by your thighs, his cock still buried deep inside you, and he sits down on a sofa, where you both take a nap.

At times like this, it's not only the psychopathic hollering of two maniacs that the Fatui Agents hear, but also the way that he makes you completely lose your mind in pleasure.

[mssr-crumpled-paper]

Gale and the Unperfect Victim

Here I am, back again with Gale posting cause I still have more thoughts on him as a character.

So, today, I read the phrase "the perfect victim" which is a myth often used to discredit the experience of female victims of SA, to dictate a way that victims of violence/assault are "supposed" to act. And when i tell you the concept of a perfect victim to anything immediately made me think of Gale, as well as the state of colonial resistance at large.

I'd like to preface with the idea that there is no "perfect victim" to any systemic crimes perpetuated. There is no one acceptable way of acting or responding to oppression or violence. With that out of the way let's get into the Gale analysis.

I often see people talk about Gale in this specific formula:

"I still don't like Gale as a character. His anger is understandable but [insert violent response to state sanctioned violence here].

There always seems to be such a conditional in the people's eyes of what is and isn't justifiable violence or resistance. To what means is a war just is one of the central themes of THG (or at least I believe so anyways).

Now this question raises a really interesting point about Gale's character. Obviously, Gale is meant to represent the other end of the extremist spectrum: kill all Capitol people indiscriminately, no matter their disposition and beliefs or levels of innocence; take down the Capitol at all cost.

This, coupled with the fact that Peeta represents the other end of the spectrum (do the right thing and hold onto conscience, choosing humanity for all ends) might present Gale as a heartless, cold killer.

Here we meet the instance of a "perfect victim." Subjected to seemingly relatively the same levels of oppression (some would even argue that Peeta suffered more), Peeta still continuously chooses to pacify. He represents conscience, which manifests in the way that he is soft spoken, generally kind/compassionate, white, blond, merchant's kid, unquestioningly devout, barely ever angry. Do you hear it? The sounds of a perfect victim, someone you're supposed to feel bad for because he didn't deserve any of this.

This view is revoked from Gale, someone who's fought, hunt, and kill all his life. Angry, harsh, not as well-spoken or charismatic, a possessive weirdo sometimes, and violent. His response to violence is almost always with anger, with the biting of the tongue until it bleeds, and then it explodes in everyone's face. "Gale is understandable, but..."

It makes me wonder how much compassion and understanding and help we can truly extend to a person who doesn't respond to violence the way he's supposed to. When they don't lay down and take it, or brood in angry silence, or extend a gracious forgiving hand. People would say he lacks humanity or compassion but I would wholeheartedly disagree. His dedication to his people, to his family, to his friends, to Katniss has manifested into anger and hatred for an imperial machine that has never cared if he died or lived.

I find it funny that somehow, this is always a trait demanded to be fixed by the oppressed. Even in post-war, post-apocalyptic movies where previous minority groups establish a closed community that's hostile to outsiders, that's a moral failing on their part. It fails completely to view the responsibility of the Capitol people, whose true extent of innocence can be argued against (how innocent are you really, when you're an exploitative force actively participating in the deaths and oppression of the lower colony-like districts).

Which then leads me to the posts I've been seeing about Palestine. So much focus on constant martyrdom, which is so important. SO important. But why are we turning our eyes away from their resistance? The truth of it is gratuitous violence is not their first choice, and resistance is always so ugly. We distance ourselves away from the violence to excuse ourselves of the need to have to justify the means to life of an entire people.

"By what standard of morality can the violence used by a slave to break his chains be considered the same as the violence of a slave master?” - Walter Rodney

Do I agree with everything Gale does? No. I won't attempt to justify his notions of violence, but I will beg you to situate them within the asymmetrical power context in which they’re committed.

[starryficsfinishwen]

✧。◟ᴀᴅᴏʀᴇ — lee hyperreal x reader [PGR] [Happy Activation Day, Lee!!]

darling, you're the one I want

a.n. - self-indulgent comfort because I badly needed one. ALSO??? IT'S ACTUALLY LEE ACTIVATION DAY?!?! HAPPY BIRTHDAY BABE I LOVE YOU (COME HOME WHEN YOU COME TO GLOBAL, I'M SHARING THIS WITH YOU TOO READERS AND MUTUALS <3 <3 <3) I guess this is also short because I wasn't prepared (unplanned, the other one [NSFW] a little secret is the one who is planned LOL)

words - 1,458

pairing - hyperreal!lee x commandant (no specific genders mentioned, tho implied female)

warnings - none. comfort. super soft fluff with lee hyperreal. lowercase for the aesthetic™ I guess a bit suggestive?? because something happened to y'all the other night 👀

the first light of day cascades through your windows and lands on your outstretched hand.

as the outside world began its usual morning routine — the sound of machines clanking, chattering as the white noise, daylight dancing on the palm of your hand — you should wake up. a long, long list of things to do is waiting for you. Lucia and Liv could be in the maintenance room and you're needed for more paper works. but you don't — all you could think about was the warmth of the occupied space beside you, intertwined with you under the sheets.

Lee is here. Lee's sleeping beside you.

he's on his side, sleeping soundly, as one hand grasped yours, the other draped on your bare hips. both of your legs are tangled, your body nearly leaning onto him. his usual stoic face was relaxed, an expression you rarely see during the war. while the battlefield may have scorned his appearance, only moments like this would allow you to see Lee drop his guard down and show his human side.

propping a hand to support your head, you couldn't help but look at your sleeping lover. you've always known Lee has been so handsome; even when he had his Entropy frame, humans or constructs would approach him and ask for his number. but you couldn't help but laugh at that memory. this man is yours; unfortunate to them, but he's the one who is part of Gray Raven and the one who owns your heart.

was this the first time Lee was with you in bed? you usually see him after you wake up, preparing your morning coffee, the papers on your desk arranged accordingly. right now, he's actually beside you.

pride and love well up in your chest. although he may have given up his humanity years ago, you couldn't help but think about how you've learned to adore him. unclasping from his hand, you lightly touched his face.

tracing his face. from the blonde locks covering his closed eyes, to the shape of his jaw. from the chin, you drifted to the slope of his nose, the softness of his cheek. you tenderly traced the outline of his lips, which made you smile, as the events of last night replayed in your mind, the thought that made you blush and joyful. you may have studied all the lessons the F.O.S. taught you, but no one was there to write a book about Lee. and so, you couldn't help but want to touch every part of him that you could.

as you do, you couldn't help but think now; the war, the punishing virus, the ones you love. fear may be evident as it grows fondly like your endearment for Lee, but you solely believe in hope: in hope that one day, a world where you could roam with Lee and your team, and other people in Babylonia, without anything to destroy life anymore.

you leaned and kissed the corners of his mouth. one kiss turned into little kisses that littered across his jaw, up until the eyelids. your heart is heavy with endearment — you want to kiss Lee without hesitation, without a pause.

fortunately for you, Lee was already awake. the moment you started to touch him, he woke up from his slumber. but hearing you squeaking with joy, he let you have your moment. until you started kissing him anywhere but his lips.

jolting up, he took your wrist and flipped you over: you are under him, wrists lightly held above your head. “good morning, commandant.” said Lee, the raspy, morning voice making you smile with pleasure.

“good morning,” you replied, voice scratchy, “I think you made me lose my voice. how am I supposed to talk to the council now?”

“mm, that's not my fault.” he leaned down to nuzzle your exposed neck, breath tickling your shoulders, “I can tell them to reschedule. you need the rest after all.”

“still your fault. I still have so much to do.”

“why don't you do it then?”

you sighed, playfully rolling your eyes, “a certain someone made me lose the ability to walk.”

Lee lifted his head to reveal a smirk that made you want to wipe off of his face. “oh, really? that's unfortunate. would you tell me who it is?”

He let your hands go, still caging you in between him. deciding to play along with his game, you wrap your arms around his neck, laughing. “mm, well, he's good-looking. definitely an eye candy.”

“mhm, and?”

“he has blonde hair. a cute guy.”

“I think I get the image. what else?”

“a strange guy. he's also really shy but somehow switches personalities when there's no one else around.”

“really? that is a strange guy. I think you should stay away from him.”

“ah, I should, but that's a shame.” you mirrored his grin, “after all, he just told me that I should stay a little longer.”

a faint blush dusted his cheeks. he leaned down, lips closer to yours, that you could feel the thrumming of his heartbeat. “mm...if I told you to stay a little longer, would you?”

you pulled him closer, his body now touching on top of yours. two hearts now mirroring each other's beats. “I would,” you whispered, turning to kiss wherever your lips could reach, “I would stay with you.”

you wish you would. you wish it would stay forever like this: on a bed on a work morning, skipping whatever the hell was out for the both of you. for a split second, the image you had earlier reappeared in your thoughts: a white gown, a floral arc, an aisle, and the man in a suit waiting for you at the end of the aisle.

such thoughts shouldn't happen, but your heart, oh. you could never imagine the future without a Lee — Morian — in it.

“I love you, Lee.”

the three magic words that you've always wanted to tell him all the time. Lee didn't answer. instead, he nuzzles the warmth of your cheek. then the other. aiding him in his ministrations, your fingers tangle themselves in the softness of his hair. the shuffling of the blanket, the tangling of your legs. he moves downward now; kissing the edge of your jaw, to the crook of your neck, the dip of your clavicle. he looks at you, a twinkle in his eye as he kissed the back of your hand, to the inside of your palm.

he straddles you by the hips. you remember a construct's body may be different from that of a regular human, but to see the outlines of his torse, a transparent, glowing blue light from his spine, only made you look back at him with awe. you trace the outline, to which he holds your hand fondly.

“I've always seen you like a god.” Lee confesses. as he held your hand to his chest (his heart was beating erratically now), he spoke more of his feelings. “you have always been too kind to me, even though I can be brash and apathetic. you only show me mercy, and I don't even know how to repay you.”

“being alive and being here is enough for me.” you whispered, the pal of your hand flat against his erratic heart, “I can't imagine a life without Lee. without Morian.”

You felt his heart skip. He only chuckles, “I can't get enough of you saying my name. it feels...unusual.”

“I love you, Morian.”

He exhales. Taking your hand and kissing the palm of it once more, before looking at you with his tender cerulean irises, he whispers.

“I love you more, [Y/N].”

no one is alone here now. only two lovers, laughing under the sheets, incessant touches here and there, that only they can share with one another.

“w-wait!” you exclaimed, prying Lee away from you for a moment, “I forgot to give you something.”

Lee cocked his head, “what?”

you pecked his lips, grinning, “happy birthday, Lee.”

“really? that's it?” he laughs, holding your hips, “thank you, [Y/N].”

“I have a gift for you.”

“oh? what is it?”

excitingly rolling to your side of the bed, you pulled out a ribbon. looking at Lee, you carefully place the ribbon on top of your head. Lee's eyes darken with an expression you're now slowly getting used to.

“I'm your present.”

“...how am I supposed to open my present if they're already open?”

You wink, legs shyly opening. “there's more to come.”

and so, that was how your day goes, as the day bleeds into the nighttime. Lee doesn't know though, the real present that sits on your drawer, waiting for the right time to be opened.

comments, likes, reblogs are appreciated!! please don't copy or plagiarize my work!

[euphoricimagination]

Part 3: The first selection keeps going on after your match with Barou, its time for the match between Team Z vs Team Y

Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 -> Masterlist

You go back to the dorms quite late, already cleaned and changed. Luckily since the sweatshirts were quite oversized you were able to get away with a normal sports bra instead of the binder, so you felt much more comfortable.

When you enter the dorm you saw them all of them sitting, the futons already open, while they talk about their weapons

"Okay, Isagi-kun is thinking, Chigiri?" Kuon says as he writes in his notebook, you sit down next to Chigiri when he answers

"Don't wanna say" says, hugging his knees in a sad manner

"What the hell? Let's just leave the selfish princess alone and move on" says Raichi before looking at you "You, what's your weapon?"

"Eh…I'll say speed and shooting" you say

"Ok, then I'll write you down Yn-kun; anyway, by thinking on our…"

"Oi" you hear Chigiri whisper "What took you so long? I rolled out your futon"

"I stayed a bit longer in the water, it felt good after today. And thanks"

"Did you have dinner?" Chigiri asks again

"Yeah, i did, i wanted to eat al-"

"Well go with ‘Operation: me next 9’" you hear Kuon say out loud, a plan that focuses on all of you changing formations every 10 minutes.

You look at Chigiri confused, nine? If Iemon was going to play goalie again then it would be dangerous to rotate so he gets his time, so it was understable he wasn't counted, but was Chigiri also not counted in it?

"You alright with that?" You ask the red hair boy

"Yeah, I don't want to be at the front anyways. I rather leave that spot to you"

"Why?"

"You're fast and have a lot of good techniques, besides, I get the feeling that you're not taking this seriously yet" he gives you a small smirk, he was partially right, you couldn't stand out much if you wanted to help the others, no matter how much you want to.

"Don't regret it later though" you say as you get ready to sleep, laying down in the futon

"I don't think i will"

The next few days were full of practice, in which everyone was learning how to work as a team. Even though clearly they didn't think of each other as a real team yet, everyone was learning to suck up their pride every once in a while, all because if you lose, everyone's soccer life is over.

As you finish your dinner you see Isagi sitting alone in one table, clearly thinking hard about something

"Oi" you call him, sitting next to him

"Yn-kun"

"What are you thinking about?"

"Eh? No-nothing"

"C'mon, I can practically see the cogs trying to move in your head" you say, making him frown

"What if…if I don't have what it takes to be a striker?" he asks you, the words of Ego quickly replaying in your head: you need to help them figure it out.

"You do, otherwise you wouldn't be here, don't you think?"

"But I don't have a weapon of my own like you do, or like Bachira, or anyone" he says looking down

"You remember the pass that you gave me in that match? Which by the way, thanks for that"

"I do, what about it though?" he asks confused

"You said that it was unconscious, you just felt that i could make that goal at that time. You sensed that it was a perfect timing and a perfect position, not everyone can do that, you know?"

"But how is that going to help me? I didn't even meant to happen"

"That's what you need to figure it out by yourself" you say standing up, going to use the point that you had to take a steak out of the machine

"Steak?!" Says Isagi, his mouth watering. From the corner of your eye you can see Kunigami coming to the table too

"Goal Bonus" you say as you cut a piece for yourself and try it "Isagi, humans can work their unconscious habits to make them conscious. Hey Kunigami"

"Hey Yn-kun, Isagi-kun" says the orange hair as he sits down in front of you, eyeing your steak. Isagi was looking at you still confused "Chigiri was looking for you Yn"

"Okay, I'll go to see him then" you cut the steak in half, moving it to the middle of the two before standing up "here, eat it"

"Eh?! But it's your reward!" Exclaims Isagi as Kunigami also looks at you incredulous

"I wanted to try it, but I'm not a big fan of meat. I rather you two eat it than throwing it away" you say as you start to walk away

"Yn-kun!" Isagi calls you, making you turn around "Why do you play soccer? You're so fast and your shots are really powerful, you have things I don't, so why do you play?"

"Easy, it's fun to challenge myself" you shrugged, waving at them before leaving. It was a true and simple answer, but it was hopefully enough to make him notice that challenging his abilities could be fun; after all, if you could play soccer against these boys while being a girl, he can become aware of his true weapon.

+++

Soon enough it's time for the next match, Team Y versus Team Z.

"Just like us, it's game over for then if they lose" you say adjusting your clothes

"The one to watch out for is the number nine, Hibiki Okawa" says Kuon as you all gather around forming a circle "All we can do is bring out what we practice. We will win even if it kills us, Team Z!!"

"Yeah!"

The first ten minutes belonged to Bachira, however he's unable to do anything, making it time for Kunigami to try to score. Somehow Team Y is able to stop Kunigami not once, but twice and are able to counterattack thanks to their number 7, gaining a goal as well.

You're in the halftime, as usual some of the team is fighting about something dumb like they usually do, something about Chigiri questioning if the plan will really work like that; however, nothing everyone decided to keep the plan as it is otherwise everything will fall apart

"I was just saying…" Chigiri mumbles

"I kind of agree with you" you mumble back to Chigiri "but it's too late to do something now"

"Yeah, I get that"

After that you all go back to the match, and while Team Y is trying to guard the ball by keep passing to each other. As they were passing to each other you decided to just try to gain some control so the rest could at least gain some confidence, so you lunged forward with a higher speed that you haven't shown in any other match. You were able to intercept the ball, but since the other player was near you, you had to flick the ball to the other side as you quickly changed direction, confusing Team Y.

Luckily, you had shown your team some of these plays while training, not at the exact same speed or precision, but enough for them to react in time. That's when you saw Gagamaru, running parallel to where you are, so you pass it to him slightly too far so his weapon could be useful and almost gaining a goal.

"That was amazing Yn!" Bachira comes to you and gives a high five, as he prepares to do the corner shot "wasn't that a bit long though? You never made that mistake before"

"I'm not perfect, Bachira, besides Gagamaru is like a spring, he could get that" you say as Bachira laughs, if he only knew that it was part of your job to make everyone else shine…

You go to gather around with both teams in front of the goal for the corner kick when you notice Isagi was thinking about something, probably their number 7, Niko, who seems to be the one making the big plays. Isagi wasn't going to be useful here if he hesitated, so you did what you thought was best

"Isagi, trust yourself!" you tell him at the same time Bachira kicks, making him nod as he runs away from the group and towards Niko.

Their goalie was able to hit the ball away just in time, sending it towards Niko, however Isagi is able to get in the way and trap the ball. He effectively runs towards the goal again, shooting for a goal when one member of Team Y intercepts him, almost making it go out if it wasn't for Gagamaru, who miraculously hits the ball right on the edge of the court and makes a goal, ending up with Gagamaru hitting the post.

"Damn, that was cool" you mutter to yourself, impressed at the athletic skill that was just displayed.

The minutes keep passing, neither team being able to score a goal, making a tie until the last minute, when all of team Y start a counterattack, everyone running towards our goal. And since our team put too many players on attack, the formation on defense is way too weak. No matter how fast you can run, you were on the other side of the court, so there was no way you could properly be able to reach your own goal on time to stop the ball. Team Y is able to pass everyone in your team, now Niko being face to face to Iemon, a true one to one between them; however, at the last second he changes to a pass to Okawa, a pass that nobody was able to read…except for Idaho.

Just when you thought everything was over for you and your team, Isagi is able to catch the ball right before Okawa can touch it. He has started to read the plays of other players and predict where the ball was going to end up. You instinctively start running to the other side, towards the goal of Team Y, you see the ball reaching you soon after by Isagi's pass, so you jump to trap it right before the other team could even reach you. You were able to pass them for a few meters, but since they were down to do everything to try to stop you, you had no other option than to pass it to Kunigami. Kunigami is also able to pass away some other players; however, he's also forced to pass it to Bachira, who dribbles past more players before passing the ball again. At first you thought it was a low pass for Gagamaru, who still tries to reach the ball by jumping towards it, but instead it goes directly to Isagi. You were still running towards the goal just in case something happens, so you were able to see Isagi's form and eyes, almost being able to see a big aura around him as he shoots, making the goal at the last second, Team Z winning 2 - 1.

You see some of the team hug and congratulate Isagi as the speakers officially announce your team victory. You were breathing hard as you high five Kunigami.

"Hey, Yn, good pass, that was an amazing run" Kunigami says to you

"Thanks, I wished I could have done more though"

"Same here, but we did the best we could"

You high five Bachira in the same manner, however this passes his arms around your shoulders

"That was a great trap, Yn-kun!" He says ruffling your hair, a habit he developed ever since you two became close, since you were shorter than him

"Thanks, your dribbling was awesome too, it definitely comes natural to you" you say as you go back to the lockers.

Everyone was hyped up after winning, the lockers becoming a small celebratory place. You were taking your vest off when you noticed a small piece of paper in your bag, a rushed "Ego-san is waiting for you" written on it with a key for the stairs, clearly by Anri considering how well hidden it was. As the excitement calmed down, the team decided to go to take a bath, everyone starting to leave at the same time; you had no option but to follow them for a while, slowly trying to stay behind them without being noticed.

"Yn?" Chigiri calls you as he turns around, so you pretend to look for something in your bag "you coming?"

"Shit, i forgot my towel in the lockers" you say trying to not freak out "go ahead, I'll join later"

"...okay, don't take too long" says Chigiri, looking at you with a confused frown, you could just hope that he wasn't suspecting much.

You pretend to walk towards the lockers as you make sure that Chigiri had enter to the bathroom, soon changing directions to the door that had a 'staff only' written on it, you used the key and find the same stairs Anri had guided you the first time, so you follow them until you arrived to Ego's apartment, knocking as you enter.

"Yn-chan, come in" the man greets you, you bow to Anri as you sit down in front of him "Well done today winning"

"Thanks sir, what did you need me for?"

"I wanted to know if you noticed the same thing I saw"

"The last point by Isagi-kun?" Ego nods, as his grin get wider and wider, looking kind of creepy "I did, he was clearly only thinking of scoring, he also seemed to understand more about his instincts now"

"I'm guessing you gave him the hint?"

"I just tried to give him another perspective, he used to think that that pass was nothing special, I told him that it was. Maybe playing with Niko helped him too"

"Still, well done for that. You also helped Gagamaru show his talent, was it on purpose?"

"I did send it a little long, yes" you answer

"Well, good job on that too" he says, uncharacteristically positive. He then interlocks his fingers, looking at you with a more serious expression than before "However, I hope you remember that you can't shine too brightly, if I didn't know better I would think that you were trying to score yourself"

"I…you don't have to worry, sir" you gulped

"Okay, you can leave now" you stand up, going to the door

"Sir" you call him right before leaving "I have to ask you to stop calling me here after a match, I'll run out of excuses soon"

You leave before hearing his answer, going down the stairs and locking up again. You went to the bathroom area and noticed that luckily it was empty, so you quickly took a shower and changed before going back to the dorms.

"CHEERS!" you hear as you step in, some tables arranged in the middle of the room with a mix of foods on them, including two steaks that you assume were exchange for goal points

"There you are Yn!" Says Bachira coming to hug you, you notice that Chigiri was looking at you, he probably noticed how long it took you to come back here “We’re celebrating! Come eat!”

“Eh? I didn’t brought my food though, sorry”

“It’s okay, we have plenty” Kuon says as he pass you some chopsticks, some of the others were fighting about the steak “If we need more food we’ll send you for yours”

“Oka-”

“Yn-kun, say ahhhhh” Bachira says as his hand reaches out to you, offering you a dumpling. You laugh at him with a raised eyebrow, but still follow his instructions and open your mouth

“I can’t believe how fast your reflexes are Yn” Kunigami starts saying, looking at you both weird “you not only intercept them multiple times today, but you also reacted just on time when Isagi catch the ball and send it to you”

“You also send me a good pass, thanks” adds Gagamaru

“Yn-kun, that trap of the ball at the last minute was amazing too, how you were able to pass between so many players” says Isagi

“Well, that one was mainly because you catch it before the other team, I just ran and hoped you passed it to me” you add quite embarrassed at the amount of compliments they were giving you, you definitely weren't used to that

“Still, without that i don't know if we could have counterattack”

“Thanks, Isagi, you were definitely able to read that play though, well done” you say trying to change the subject, which worked well considering how now everyone was praising Isagi and his ability to ‘smell the goal’. You ate as you watch them talk about the match, Bachira trying to give food to Isagi as well, as you keep thinking; it felt nice playing such a high stake match; it felt nice being the receiver of so many compliments about how good you were, specially considering you were always told that you were too hard to play against and that it wasn’t fun anymore when you tried to play with the girls soccer team at your school; it felt good being recognized by people who were also passionate about the sport, but you couldn’t take it too personal. This wasn’t the reason you were here, you had to help them shine, not shine yourself, but it feels like your own ego was starting to appear.

You stand up and go to sit next to Chigiri, who was alone against a wall, to get away from the loud ones for a while

"You sure took your sweet time coming here" he says looking at the chaos in front

"The water felt nice" you answer back

"I can't blame you, the match was intense" he looks at you and pats your head "you did amazing today"

"Thanks" you say not looking at him, worried that you would blush more than you already were. You're supposed to be a dude, get your act together "I wanted to score once though"

"I bet, everyone here wants to. I will say you were a major part on the two goals though"

"What about you, Chigiri, don't you want to score too?" You ask him, bringing out his potential was part of your job, but you actually cared about him too

"I…don't want to talk about that" he says, looking away

"C'mon, aren't we friends? I won't judge you" you say, making him look at you indecisive

"...fine, but let's go somewhere else" he says standing up, everyone else seems to be getting ready to sleep, arranging their futons accordingly. You two went to the media room, in where you could watch the replays of the matches, and sat in front of the TV, you following him behind. You turn the TV on, the match bringing some light into the room.

"Do you really want to know?" He asks you, focusing on his face on the screen

"Yeah, I can't help you otherwise"

"Why would you want to help me?" He raises his eyebrow, looking at you

"You're my friend, I want you to enjoy this too" he sighs, almost grinning at you

"A year ago I tore my ACL in my right knee, and if i damage it again, i won't be able to play ever again" he looks at the floor "I was fast, faster than you even, but now…now I'm scared to get injured again"

"Then why did you even come here? You knew what you were getting into, right?" You ask, you can see some hurt in his eyes, however, he just chuckles

"You're straightforward, huh? Yes, I knew, I came here to give up my dream. You might be a huge help to do that, same as Isagi after that goal of his"

"Don't say that, don't make ME the reason you want to give up. Tell me, do you really want to give up? Do you like soccer?"

"I do, but there's no point in m-"

"Then keep trying, don't do something you might regret later" you grab him by his shoulders, by the corner of your eyes you can see the door opening slowly, but you decided to ignore it "if you are going to stop playing because of an injury, then at least stop when you get injured again, not just because you're afraid"

"You don't understand Yn, don't get cocky with me" he says angry

"No, i don't understand why you want to give up without even trying again! What? You think you're the only player that has to go through things? The only one that gets injured? No, you aren't, but the others aren't cowards that stop doing something they love just because they're scared" you say angry as well, standing up and leaving the room

Sure, you may have exaggerated a little, but in the heat of the moment all just came out, after all he clearly likes the sport to come to this place in the first place. You close the door behind you, noticing Isagi standing there, hesitating whether entering or not

"Go in" you say simply

"But you and Chigiri…"

"You can talk to him if you're worried" you say passing him "well played today Isagi, your spatial awareness is developing nicely"

"My what..?" You hear him ask, however you were already leaving; maybe you shouldn't have told Isagi so directly, but the sudden weight of the fight was starting to appear in your shoulders, tired of so many boys without proper thinking cells in their bodies. You would think about that tomorrow.

[ya-zz]

okay hear me out, playing video games with ramattra. completely sfw and fluffy (unless you wanna make it nsfw somehow, idm lol), just introducing him to video games - maybe like Mario or WiSports or Minecraft or something

btw i love you (platonically ofc) and my pugs say hi!

Aaaa this is hella cute!! Imagine him sitting down next to you and he's playing minecraft because it keeps him calm, omg omg, maybe a drabble will come off of that, but anyway! You're request as requested!

Ramattra x Reader (gen)

Word count: 1544

What Ramattra did in his spare time you never knew. Sure, he would read or work on something in the workshop, but what does the omnic do to wind down? Surely meditating was all he did? How does one meditate for so long without getting bored?

He’s an omnic. A war machine built to kill. An R-7000 who had never experienced joy. He has never experienced comfort… Warmth… Love. Ramattra has never felt… content. 

His stress level were alarmingly high, and the humming of his worn out chassis rattled every time he moved. He was in need of repair and you were the only one capable of helping him. The only one capable of repairing him. His joints were getting stiff and while he hadn’t been in the world for that long, he had never taken care of himself. He never found a need. There was no other purpose for Ramattra to take care of himself and by the time he had met you, he was already too far gone. 

He approached you one day, albeit against his own thought systems, and he asked for you to help him. He asked for you to repair him and that was exactly what you did.

Keeping him online, you listened to him talk about his past, what he remembered from back then, his pain and directives. You made sure to clean the crevices, fix the broken parts of him, repair what was damaged, rewire what wires had been frayed and became useless.

You had never felt closer with the omnic, and while you considered him a good friend, you were sure he saw you as just a other human. So when Ramattra admitted that he enjoyed spending his time with you, that he enjoyed your presence, a warm feeling flooded throughout your body. 

It took nearly a day to get Ramattra fixed, but the moment he could stand, he sighs. 

“Thank you.” He says, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Though… My joints are still stiff.”

“They will be. They’re new parts so they need to loosen up a little.” You smile gently at him as you begin to clean up.

“New?” He seems shocked by the fact that they are ‘new’. 

You let out an airy laugh. “Well, technically yes, they’re new, but they’ve been sat in the box for years. It’s hard to come across your models replacement parts.” 

“I was not made to be replaced.” Ramattra looks off to the distance. 

“I know, so I did what I could to get some parts in just in case.” You place a hand onto his jawline, feeling the metal against your palm. It wasn’t cold, but it wasn’t hot either. It was warm. 

Ramattra stares at you but as he goes to move his hand to replicate yours, wanting to touch your face, his fingers don’t open as easily as they did previously. You look down at his hand before an idea pops into your head. 

“Come with me.” You don’t give him a choice as you practically drag him upstairs and into your personal home. “Take a seat, I’ll be back in just a moment.”

Ramattra stands in the living room for a moment before taking a seat, his knees uncomfortably high on the low sofa. He hears you moving and complaining from a different room. Something drops, a quiet expletive follows after. All the while, he’s looking around the living room. A tidy place, one that is kept clean. There isn’t much here, but he figures it’s because you are always busy. 

A few minutes later you return holding a box in your arms.

“That looks heavy.” Ramattra looks between you and the box. 

“I can assure you that I have carried heavier.” You smile, placing the box down on the floor before sitting next to it. “Let’s see…” 

“What are you doing?” Ramattra stands and kneels beside you, watching you open the cardboard box. Inside of it was a bunch of wires, consoles and controllers. “What is all of this?” 

“This…” You start, pulling out a series of cables and a console. “This is a Nintendo system, a Wii specifically.”

“A what?” 

You laugh at his reaction. “A Wii. It’s a motion console. God, I haven’t set this up in years.”

Ramattra picks up the console and examines it. “How old is this?”

“I don’t know precisely, but they were released back in 2006.” You push the box aside after retrieving two controllers and the sensor. 

“That was-” 

“Yeah… This was my fathers.” You smile as you work on connecting it to the TV. 

“How is this going to help me?” Ramattra cocks his head to the side. 

“You have to move to play.” Looking back at him, you notice that he had picked up one of the remotes. “There are more advanced systems out there now, but this is a great starting point.”

Ramattra hums as he watches the TV light up. 

“By moving, it will loosen those joints.” You smile at the omnic. “Come on, stand up.” Offering a hand to him, your smile grows a little more when he accepts it. 

“What exactly are we playing?” His optics watch the screen as he watches the little cursor move across it. He looks back at your arm, watching it move in the direction of the cursor. 

“Wii Sports. An all time fan favourite.” You laugh, looking at him hold his controller. You explain to him how to turn it on before your fingers are touching his wrist, putting on the safety strap. “This is so you don’t break anything.” 

“Have you broken a TV before?” Ramattra asks, a warmth passing through his circuitry at your motions. 

“Never, surprisingly. I’m not as much as a clutz as you think I am.” 

Ramattra chuckles before turning his attention back to the screen. 

“Just follow the instructions- oh my, I didn’t think the save data would still be here.” You smile as you look at your character. 

“Is that supposed to be you?” The omnic asks. 

“Yes.” 

“It does not look like you.” 

“It used to look like me. It has been many years since I pulled this out.” The character was childhood you. A small, derpy looking character you thought was cute. 

Ramattra doesn’t seem convinced but he leaves it at that. 

“What game mode do you want to play first?” You ask while looking up at him. 

The omnic notices the mischieves glint in your eyes and scoffs. “Do not think you will beat me just because I have never played this.” 

You laugh at his response. “Omnics learn quickly, I’m sure I can win a few games before you truly do beat my ass.” 

Ramattra laughs alongside you before he grabs your arm, making you move the cursor over the games. He stops on baseball and hums in confirmation. 

You nod before clicking the game, watching as Ramattra selects his temporary profile and his hand. 

—

One game turned into two, then to three. 

Then it turned into the whole evening. With each game, you won the first two, at a push three, but then after that, Ramattra started getting good. Too good. Of course, he let you win a few games in between, blaming it on his joints when in fact they were loosening up quickly from all the movement. 

Ramattra, for once, was having fun. Hearing you laugh and joke as he spent time with you made him feel warm. His systems were calm, but there were times when you had accidentally brushed his arm and his systems flared up like he was blushing. 

Hours of fun had gone by, neither of you getting bored of playing the same games on repeat, but it was getting late and now it was your turn to feel achy. 

“Are you okay?” Ramattra asks, watching you slump back on the sofa behind. 

“Yeah, just worn out.” You smile, leaning forward and taking the remote off of your wrist. 

“It is late.” Ramattra states, fiddling around with his remote strap. 

“Here.” You stand up and help him take it off. “How are your joints?” 

It takes a moment for Ramattra to speak. The feeling of your hand on his nearly made him short circuit. “Loose. Thank you.” 

“I’m glad.” 

“Though my fingers still need some loosening.” He admits. 

You stare at him for a moment, cheeks instantly burning up. 

“What is it?” Ramattra notices your sudden flustered state. 

“N-Nothing!” 

“Oh?” The omnic takes a step forward towards you and towers over you. “I do still owe you for fixing me…” His hand touches your cheek, finger joins still stiff. 

“I-”

“Perhaps there is a way we can both settle this.” His tone changes, low and sultry. 

He backs you up against the wall, trapping you in with arms either side of you. 

“Ram-” Your voice was barely a whisper, light and breathy. Ramattra chuckles at the reaction. 

“What do you say?” He tilts his head, leaning down slightly as his optics are fixed with your eyes. 

With burning cheeks, all you could do was stare back, mouth slightly open as if you couldn’t believe this was happening. 

Ramattra tilts your head up, thumb resting on your bottom lip.

“Let me play with you.”

[heartbeatsnice]

It's hard to make rent in night city. After losing your job you fear you may be kicked to the curb. Your friend however has a better plan. A little contracting work for experimental research. All you need to do is show up and let the company do its magic.

It's an early cold morning when you arrive at a seemingly abandoned building. Your heart races with anticipation as you arrive.

On the top floor you meet a man with a business suit.

"Ah. You're just on time. You have an organic right?" He shakes your hand. "It makes for excellent training."

As quickly as he does, he slide a butterfly knife through your ribs and expertly into your left ventricle. Your heart races, tearing itself to little ribbons on the blade. He leaves it in you as you hear the roar of the flying ambulance company the man works for arrives. The operatives leap from the vehicle into the building where they hook your body up to a portable heart and lung machine, and race to save your organic human heart, they flood you with pain medicine but you remain awake.

They remove the knife and use a futuristic device to begin stitching the countless gashes in your heart. After a few hours the organ is complete and beating again. The man in the suit applauds them. Then handing you your payment as promised.

As it turns out, having a fully organic heart is a rarity now, and finding work for it is.

A guild of assassins practice using lazers to subtly cut the valves of your heart without being able to hack your flesh based body. Then the ambulance company pay to practice resuscitation on you.

People line up to hear your organic heart beat, you're even brought as entertainment at parties for machines and man alike to gawk at your fleshy vessel through a screen.

The rich pay you handsomely to allow them to indulge in your organic heart. Listening to it pound and react to drugs and chemicals and even cutting you open to hold it.

Being the only few in Night City with an organic heart, I can’t help but feel awfully special despite the close brushes I have with death.

At first I had been terrified. But slowly, as I become accustomed to my new strange routine, I found myself enjoying it all even perhaps finding it very pleasurable.

The first time I held my own heart in my palms, I just about nearly fainted. I could feel it racing, slamming away with its beats audible for everyone to hear.

Not to mention how these rich clients would fondle and play with my heart as they fuck me.

Best part is, the treatments for my heart would leave it good as new.

I never want this to stop and luckily for me, my benefactor isn’t going to anytime soon.

[malleusarcanum]

⚠️: Piss her!

Ace: My arms are going to give up! *Holding 3 boxes*

Deuce: This is far heavier! *Holding 8 history books*

Mc: Hey! We could use a little help here!! *Dropped the small table* *Yelled to Leona who is sitting at the corner*

Leona: Zzzzzz

Mc: Don't dare make a false sleep!!!!

Sebek: Duties couldn't be accomplished if you use your megaphonic mouth, human.

Mc: Atleast this megaphone is more useful than that lazy slacker over there! *Pointed at silver who slept at the desk*

Lilia: He's tired. He's even charming to look while dozing off.

Ruggie: That's the chair I was looking for... Nah to heavy if someone adds his weight

Lilia:....

Mc: ......

Lilia: Let's get movi'n!

Vil: My beauty will be destroyed by those dusk--what the---achoo! *Jade rubbed his face with feather duster*

Rook: Roi de Poison!! How could you do that!

Jade: Oh! My mistake, I thought I saw a huge termite.

*Vil stared with murderous intent*

Floyd: ah?! *Box fell off including the things inside*

Jack: It's not that bad *complimented the painting that Floyd just stepped*

Mc: Moana Lisa?!!!!

Grim: Funyah? it has some rad shoe prints, cool glow-up.

Epel: After putting everything here, let's pack up. My gut says we'll be expelled.

*Cater clicked phone and flashed*

Cater: as our last photo *selfie again and posed*

Idia: This is too heavy, my bones are disappearing.

Ortho: Big bro, you only lift one empty vase. This is the reason why you need to cut off being absorbed on gadgets, you definitely need exercise.

Idia: thinking about it may kill me already

Kalim: I give up!!!! Jamil!! Lift me!! *Unable to reach high shelf to put the trophy*

Jamil: you know what's easier?

Kalim:?

Jamil: Bring it home.

Kalim: Great idea!

*Jamil grinned*

Trey: Don't even think about it.

*Heard the book shelf collapsed, everyone turned*

Riddle: Great now we destroyed public property, thanks to Malleus.

*Mc sighed*

Malleus: *Looked at everyone* I may have pushed the box aggressively. I didn't expect a destruction.

*Everyone startled*

Floyd: Awesome!! Let's get in Shrimpy!

*Dragged Mc*

*Behind the collapsed bookshelf is a tunnel with torches beside the walls as light source*

*Everyone went in*

*********

Azul: *arranged glasses, observed a rectangular technology, with sound source at the side and a pen with big black sphere*

Mc: Wow! A kareoke!

Everyone: *exchanged glances* Karwha?

Mc: its a singing machine. *Pushed the button and it turned on*

Idia: where is their electrical source?

Mc: Don't know but this will be fun! *Played a song*

Mc demonstrated but before the lyrics starts they snatched the microphone.

🎶Trey: First, think first

Mc: The heck?!

🎶Ace: He'll no! Say what are those inside your head

🎶Kalim: I'm fired up, not tired of ruining her day oh-oooh

Running her day oh-oooh*

Mc: guys the lyrics is already there!!!!

*Everyone shushed her*

🎶Jamil: Second, wait a sec!

🎶Floyd: Don't you dare me when I call you shrimpy!

🎶Grim: No! I'm the one, greater mage.

hench-man belongs to me oh-ooohh

Tuna, dinner for me oh-oooh

Mc covered ears

🎶Leona: You're also better as maid *winked*

🎶Ruggie: taking his orders every breaks

🎶Jade & Deuce: Writing my assignments, would be cool!

Hey, Don't glare at me, kill me, attacking me...

🎶Sebek: using your punching karate

🎶Epel: Take this message from me

🎶Riddle: Speaking profanity everyday

🎶Azul: Hearing those is a

🎶Jack: pain!

🎶Cater: it's really fun when your are mad. let's piss her, piss her!

*Mc curled fist*

🎶Sebek, Silver & Lilia: Lame!

🎶Malleus: I much prefer my Child of man to kiss her, kiss her *bit lip*

*Mc blushed*

(pain!

Oh let the bullet's fly.....) (Part)

🎶Ortho: Lame.....

🎶Idia: I'll cuddle you at night and those cold rains. *Pointed mc*

*mc's heart beats fast*

🎶Vil: Apple my love, my wife you drive me *air kiss*

*Mc almost melted*

🎶Rook & Epel: Insane!

🎶Ace & Kalim: Look at her, tomato red. Let's piss her, yeah piss her!

*After a while*

Mc: Let's wait your score

Everyone:?

Mc: your song will be graded from 0 to 100. But I doubt you'll reach perfect that fuc--

Crowley: How did you got in my secret place?!!!!!!

Everyone blinked

Ortho: this is yours?

Crowley: Never mind!!! Get out *pushed them out*

Kalim: The score!

Crowley: all of your scores will go below the belt if you don't get out. *Slammed the door closed of the stock room*

*Crowley went back to turn it off but before it*

Kareoke: 100 Wow! You are a great singer

Crowley: Holy moly?!!! H-how?!!!