#i needed to talk about the context first and lay it out loud

[lanadelspray02]

HOLD ME ANYWAY: CHAPTER 23

paige x azzi

hey guys, sorry this took a while but its finally done, its sort of all over the place and not my best work but i still hope its enjoyable. i need some ideas of things you want to see in the upcoming chapters so pls let me know!

also can we please talk about paige and azzi being cuties and holding hands!!!!

crossposted ao3 here

masterlist here

wc: 5374

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The house was still wrapped in sleep when Paige blinked awake. Pale blue morning light seeped through the cracks in the curtains, soft and slow, catching on the edges of the quilt tangled over their legs. For a moment, she didn’t move, she just lay still with her hand resting over the gentle curve of Azzi’s hip and Ruby curled against her other side, warm and faintly snoring, Sparklehorn smushed between them like an unofficial stuffed ambassador of peace.

Azzi’s hair was a wild halo against the pillow, strands curling against Paige’s neck and jaw where she’d shifted sometime in the early hours. Ruby had one arm flung across Paige’s stomach, the other gripping Sparklehorn’s ear in a sleep-heavy hold that looked like it might hurt in any other context.

It should’ve been uncomfortable. Paige couldn’t feel her right foot. Her shoulder was bent at an angle that would definitely punish her later. And her throat felt dry in the way it always did after sleeping with her mouth slightly open.

But none of that mattered.

Because this? This felt like the kind of morning people didn’t believe in until they lived it.

She stayed there as long as she could, soaking in the quiet. The rhythm of Ruby’s breath. The press of Azzi’s leg against hers. The weight of being trusted, held, needed. It wasn’t loud. It didn’t shout or demand or twist her chest in painful ways. It was just… hers. The life they were building. The one she’d step in front of anyone to protect.

Eventually, her bladder overruled sentiment, and she slid out as carefully as possible, replacing her body with a pillow and whispering an apology to Sparklehorn, who took a nosedive in the process. Ruby stirred a little but didn’t wake, just tucked herself deeper into Azzi’s side with a soft hum of contentment.

Padding into the kitchen on socked feet, Paige flicked the coffee maker on, then leaned against the counter, rubbing the back of her neck and stretching out the tight spot in her spine. Outside, the sky was still a muted gray, the kind that promised a slow start and maybe rain by mid-afternoon. She grabbed bread from the pantry, pulled eggs from the fridge, and decided on French toast—Ruby’s second favorite after pancakes and way easier to make without waking up the whole house.

She was halfway through whisking the eggs and cinnamon when she heard soft footsteps, then the unmistakable sleepy shuffle of a toddler in oversized pajama pants.

Ruby appeared in the doorway, her curls sticking up in every direction and her face still squished with pillow marks. Sparklehorn dragged behind her like a tired sentinel, one ear already twisted from the night’s affection. She didn’t say anything at first, just blinked at Paige, then walked over and leaned against her legs like gravity pulled her there.

“Hi, baby,” Paige said softly, reaching down to smooth a curl back from Ruby’s forehead. “Sleep good?”

Ruby nodded and mumbled, “Mmmhmm.” She paused, looked up, then added, “My tummy hungry.”

Paige grinned. “Perfect timing. Want to help me cook?”

Ruby perked up immediately. “I crack the eggs?”

“You already missed that part, kiddo. But you can dip the bread.”

As Paige lifted her onto the counter, Azzi appeared in the hallway, yawning and wrapped in one of Paige’s old UConn hoodies—oversized and threadbare from years of wear, the sleeves swallowing her hands. She blinked at the two of them and smiled, a slow, sleepy thing that made Paige’s heart do that annoying flip it always did.

“Morning,” Azzi murmured, voice scratchy.

Paige leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Coffee’s almost ready.”

Azzi gave her a grateful look and padded to the mug waiting beside the machine. Ruby dipped her first slice of bread into the mixture with intense concentration, tongue peeking out of the corner of her mouth. “I do it good?”

“Perfect,” Paige said. “That bread has never looked so ready to be French-toasted.”

Azzi leaned on the counter, watching the two of them. Paige working the skillet. Ruby babbling about syrup. The warm, golden scent of cinnamon beginning to fill the kitchen. And something in her chest just… settled.

This was what peace looked like.

Not quiet, not stillness, just this kind of ease. The way Paige moved around Ruby like she’d done it forever. The way Ruby trusted her without hesitation. The way it never felt like Paige was stepping in or intruding, just showing up exactly where Azzi needed her to.

Breakfast was a mess in the best way. Ruby got cinnamon on her nose. Paige nearly dropped a piece of toast trying to flip it one-handed. Azzi ended up sitting on the kitchen floor for a minute while Ruby “fed” her a piece that was mostly crust and pride.

Later, while Ruby drew at the table and Paige cleaned up, Azzi stepped behind her, arms sliding around her waist. Paige leaned back into her without needing to ask.

“She loves you,” Azzi said softly.

Paige’s hands stilled on the dish towel. She turned her head slightly. “I love her too.”

Azzi kissed the back of her shoulder through the hoodie fabric, then rested her forehead there for a moment.

At the table, Ruby held up her newest masterpiece—this one a sprawling picture of Sparklehorn in a meadow filled with rainbow flowers. There were stick figures too, though. Three of them. One tall, one with curls, and one holding both their hands. Paige’s throat caught, just for a second.

Azzi saw it. Felt the change in her posture.

But Ruby didn’t say anything. Didn’t label them or ask anything out loud.

She just smiled like she knew they’d understand.

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Ruby hummed softly in the backseat, her little legs kicking in rhythm as she clutched Sparklehorn and her glittery backpack, one strap slipping off her shoulder. Her curls were pulled into a lopsided ponytail courtesy of Paige, who had muttered threats at every hair elastic but still smiled the entire time. She’d insisted Ruby looked “fierce and adorable,” even when one curl refused to cooperate and curled straight across her forehead like a question mark.

It was still early, the sun just rising higher over the town’s sleepy streets. Paige drove with her hand resting lightly on Azzi’s thigh. Azzi hadn’t said much all morning. She moved like someone whose mind was spinning too fast for her body to catch up. And Paige could feel it—the way her hand kept clenching into her sleeve, the way her gaze drifted every time Ruby giggled in the back.

When they pulled into the small gravel lot outside the daycare, Ruby immediately started bouncing. “We here!”

Azzi smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.

Paige parked, cut the engine, and turned to unbuckle Ruby’s seatbelt while Azzi grabbed her lunchbox and hoodie from the back.

A familiar voice met them before they even reached the front gate.

“Morning, ladies,” Miss Charlotte called gently. She was dressed in her usual soft tones, her long braids pulled back with a sparkly clip. Ruby lit up and ran straight to her, throwing her arms around the teacher’s legs with the kind of affection only a nearly-three-year-old could offer without hesitation.

“Hi Miss Char-lot!” Ruby chirped. “I gots stickers!”

“I can see that,” Miss Charlotte laughed, tugging the one off Ruby’s forehead gently. “You’re glowing, girl.”

Azzi crouched to fix the hem of Ruby’s shirt and kissed her cheek. “Be good, baby. I’ll pick you up right after lunch, okay?”

“Okay,” Ruby said, already grabbing Miss Charlotte’s hand. She turned to wave. “Bye Mummy Paigey! Bye Mama!”

Paige smiled, lifted her hand. “Bye, Roo. Love you.”

And just like that, Ruby was gone, the glitter on her backpack flashing in the morning light as she disappeared inside.

Azzi didn’t move. She stood staring at the door for a long second, something unreadable in her eyes.

“Can we not go to practice yet?” she asked, voice barely above a whisper.

Paige just nodded. “Of course.”

They ended up at a quiet overlook tucked on the edge of town, one Paige had driven past a hundred times but never stopped at. Trees framed the slope down into a quiet field, and from here, the rest of the world felt far away. Paige cut the engine, but neither of them moved to get out.

Azzi sat with her arms folded across her chest, the fabric of Paige’s hoodie bunched in her fists.

“I haven’t spoken to him since I was pregnant,” she said finally. Her voice was flat, but her eyes were bright. “I told him. I gave him the chance. And he looked me in the face and said, ‘That’s not mine.’ Like I made her up. Like she was a punishment.”

Paige didn’t interrupt, just let the words fall and settle.

“I didn’t chase him,” Azzi said. “I didn’t beg. I was young and pregnant and scared, but I still walked away. I told myself I could do it alone, and I did. Every milestone, every hard night, every tiny win—I did it. Without him.”

Her jaw clenched, her eyes flicking toward Paige. “And now he wants in. Now that she’s beautiful and smart and full of light. He wants to say he had something to do with that. But he didn’t. He wasn’t there.”

“You were,” Paige said quietly. “You always were.”

Azzi’s breath hitched. “I don’t want him near her. I don’t want to be fair. I don’t care what the system says or what’s legally ‘reasonable.’ I want him gone. I want him to vanish again and stay gone.”

“Then we make that happen,” Paige said without hesitation. “Whatever it takes. I’ll help you.”

Azzi turned fully toward her now. Her eyes were wide, but there was a fragility underneath, something scared to hope too loudly. “Why would you do that for me?”

Paige blinked. “Azzi…”

“No, I mean it,” Azzi said. “Why are you always just there? Why do you never hesitate? You love Ruby like you’ve known her forever. You love me like I don’t come with a past. Like I didn’t mess everything up first.”

Paige reached out and brushed her knuckles gently down Azzi’s cheek. “Because none of that scares me. Not your past. Not being there now. You’re it for me. Ruby’s it. I’d walk through fire to keep you both safe. That’s not something I’m figuring out. That’s something I already know.”

Azzi’s lip trembled, but she nodded.

She looked down at their joined hands, then back up. “You asked me something at your dad’s house. Do you remember?”

Paige’s breath caught. “Yeah.”

“You asked if I’d ever want to have a baby with you.”

Paige didn’t move.

“I’ve been thinking about it. About that night. And… I wish it had been you.”

Paige’s heart cracked open. “Azzi…”

“I wish Ruby had been ours. That I’d gotten to do all of it with you. I know we’re young. I know we’re in school and we’re still figuring it all out. But I don’t want to wait for some far-off version of this life we keep saying we’ll get to.”

She exhaled shakily. “I want to wake up next to you every day. I want to fall asleep with you and not have to check if it’s your night to stay over or if I’ll see you after class. I want you in my space, in Ruby’s space. I want to build something we don’t have to keep splitting in pieces.”

Paige was already crying, tears slipping silently down her cheeks. She leaned in, resting her forehead against Azzi’s.

“I want that too,” she whispered. “I want all of it. And we’ll get there. We will. Whatever pace we need, whatever steps it takes, I’m in. I’ll be there the whole way.”

Azzi let out a breath like she’d been holding it since Christmas. She pulled Paige into a kiss—long, slow, and full of all the things she hadn’t let herself say until now.

When they finally pulled apart, Azzi’s voice was steadier. “I love you.”

“I love you,” Paige echoed, soft and fierce all at once. “And we’re gonna build this. I swear to you.”

Azzi nodded, resting her head on Paige’s shoulder. “Then let’s start.”

Paige squeezed her hand tighter. “We already did.”

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The office was quiet, tucked above a used bookstore downtown, with a faint smell of paper and dust lingering in the air. Paige sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, a manila folder clutched between her fingers, her foot tapping a slow, uneven rhythm against the hardwood floor. The waiting room wasn’t crowded—just two chairs, a half-dead plant, and a stack of neatly fanned brochures about family law and custody rights.

She wasn’t dressed for something like this. Still in sweats from morning practice, hair damp from the post-training shower, hoodie slightly wrinkled where Ruby had clung to her earlier that day. But she didn’t care. She hadn’t come here to look put-together. She’d come to protect the two people she loved more than anything in the world.

“Paige Bueckers?”

She stood quickly. A woman in her forties greeted her with a polite smile, glasses perched halfway down her nose, clipboard in hand. “I’m Claire. Come on back.”

Paige followed her into a small office lined with bookshelves and soft lighting. It didn’t feel cold like she expected. It felt lived-in, like the kind of place someone sat in during the hardest moments of their life and left, maybe, with a little more hope than they came in with.

“So,” Claire said, settling into her seat behind the desk, “you mentioned in your intake form that this is about a child you’re helping care for?”

“Yeah.” Paige hesitated, then pulled the manila folder open. “Her name’s Ruby. She’s almost three. I’m not her biological parent—her mum is my girlfriend, Azzi. Ruby’s father hasn’t been involved. At all. Not since Azzi was pregnant.”

Claire nodded as she jotted something down. “And now?”

“He showed up,” Paige said, voice tightening. “Unannounced. Loud. At Ruby’s daycare. He scared her. She screamed. She told him she didn’t have a dad. He said he’d fight if we tried to keep him away.”

Claire looked up at that. “Has he made any formal legal motions?”

“Not yet.” Paige leaned forward slightly. “But I don’t want to wait until he does. I want to help Azzi make sure he doesn’t get the chance. He was never there. Not once. And now he wants rights just because Ruby’s happy and thriving without him?”

Claire was quiet for a beat. Then she nodded. “Alright. Let’s start with what we can do.”

She laid out the basics gently: Because Darshay was never listed on the birth certificate, he currently had no legal parental rights. But if he were to file for paternity or custody, that could change—especially if he pushed for a DNA test. However, his history of absence, the threatening voicemail, and witness accounts of his behavior at daycare could all support a restraining order or a court-monitored hearing, especially if Azzi petitioned for full, sole custody and formally named him a threat to Ruby’s emotional safety.

“I’m not saying it’ll be easy,” Claire warned. “But I’ve seen plenty of judges side with mothers in situations like this. Particularly when the biological father didn’t want to be involved until suddenly it was convenient.”

Paige nodded slowly. “Azzi’s scared that the system might fail her.”

Claire looked at her over the rim of her glasses. “She’s not wrong to be afraid. But she’s not alone. And if you’re serious about helping her, we can start building a file now—texts, voicemails, timelines. Anything you’ve got.”

Paige pulled out her phone and opened the saved audio file. “I have the voicemail.”

Claire listened to it on speaker, her expression hardening as Darshay’s voice echoed through the room: “Don’t think I won’t do what I have to if you try to keep playing house without me.”

“That,” she said as it ended, “is coercion. Possibly even a threat. I’d log it officially and keep a backup. If we can get a statement from the daycare teacher too, that’ll help.”

Paige sat back, her heart thudding in her chest. But it wasn’t fear—not exactly. It was purpose. She wasn’t guessing anymore. She was doing something.

“Should Azzi be here for this?” she asked.

Claire hesitated. “Eventually, yes. But starting the prep work now? That’s smart. When she’s ready to come in, we’ll already have the foundation.”

Paige exhaled slowly. “Okay. Good.”

As she stood to leave, Claire paused and gave her a small smile.

“You’re not her biological mother,” she said, “but it’s clear you’re her parent. That matters more than you think.”

Paige blinked hard, nodded, and left the office clutching the folder tighter than before.

She didn’t tell Azzi that night.

Not yet.

Because this wasn’t about being the hero. It was about making sure Azzi never had to stand in a courtroom alone. About making sure Ruby never had to look over her shoulder.

It was about building the life they’d talked about.

One step at a time.

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Dinner was already underway when Paige came back from tossing Ruby’s hoodie into the wash. The kitchen smelled like heaven, Katie at the stove humming softly, Tim setting out mismatched plates with casual ease. Ruby was singing to Sparklehorn at the table, swinging her legs and poking at a carrot she clearly had no intention of eating.

Azzi leaned against the counter beside her mum, wearing one of Paige’s hoodies and stirring something on the stovetop like it was muscle memory. She looked up when Paige entered and smiled—not wide, not bright, just soft. Like home.

“Sit down,” Katie said without looking back. “You’re family now, you get a plate whether you want it or not.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Paige said with a grin, sliding into the seat next to Ruby.

Ruby beamed. “I saved you a spoon, Mummy Paigey.”

“Best girl,” Paige said, pressing a kiss to her temple.

They ate around the little kitchen table, the conversation easy, filled with small laughter and the kind of familiarity that only grows in houses lived in by love. Tim talked about a new bird feeder he was experimenting with. Ruby interrupted three times to tell them all about a lizard she saw at daycare that was “this big” (it wasn’t), and Katie rolled her eyes in fond exasperation when Azzi stole a second helping before anyone else.

After dinner, Tim carried Ruby upstairs for bath time while Katie put the kettle on and told the girls to take the night off cleanup duty. Azzi pulled Paige by the hand toward the back porch without a word, and Paige followed willingly, the back door creaking gently closed behind them.

The night air was crisp, the blanket from earlier still draped over the porch bench. Paige sat first, stretching her legs out. Azzi slid in beside her, curling up until their bodies were flush and warm, and the weight of the day felt softer just being close.

“God,” Azzi murmured, exhaling. “I missed this all day.”

“Missed me?” Paige teased, sipping from the mug Katie had handed her before they left the kitchen.

Azzi didn’t play along this time. “Yeah,” she said seriously. “You.”

Paige blinked, the heat creeping up the back of her neck. “I’m right here.”

“I know,” Azzi whispered. “And I keep wishing I didn’t have to say that like it’s a temporary thing. I want this to be every night.”

She sat up just enough to look at Paige, her expression soft and raw. “I want to live with you. I know we’re still in college, I know we’ve got team housing and practice and a million things that make it complicated but I hate you leaving. I hate wondering if it’s your night to come over or not. I hate packing a bag like it’s not our home.”

Paige didn’t speak right away. She just reached up and tucked a strand of Azzi’s hair behind her ear.

“You’re it for me,” Azzi said. “I want you brushing your teeth in the same sink. I want Ruby asking which one of us is making waffles. I want laundry in one basket and a couch we bought together and a hallway where our pictures live. Not mine. Not yours. Ours.”

Paige’s heart felt too big for her chest.

“I want that too,” she said quietly. “So much. And we’ll get it. Maybe not right this second. But it’s not a dream anymore. It’s a plan.”

Azzi leaned in, the corner of her mouth curving faintly. “Good. Because I’ve already imagined where the shoes go.”

Paige grinned. “And how many of them are yours?”

Azzi tilted her head. “At least 80%. I have sneakers for specific moods.”

Paige laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners—and then, without really thinking about it, she leaned in and kissed her.

It started slow. Familiar. A press of lips in the dark, warm and sure. But Azzi’s hand slid into her hair, and Paige shifted closer, and suddenly they were kissing like they couldn’t quite remember where one of them ended and the other began.

Azzi pulled her deeper, lips parting, hands warm under the hem of Paige’s hoodie. Paige groaned softly into her mouth and let herself fall into it—into the way Azzi kissed like she needed Paige to feel everything she couldn’t say all at once.

When they finally broke apart, breathing shallow and foreheads pressed together, Paige whispered, “So what would the chore list look like in this hypothetical house?”

Azzi’s voice was breathless but amused. “You vacuum. I fold.”

“What about Ruby?”

“She bosses us both around,” Azzi said. “Obviously.”

Paige laughed again, eyes shining, and Azzi kissed her one more time—just a short, sealing press of lips.

“I love you,” Azzi murmured against her mouth.

“I love you,” Paige echoed, hands curled in the fabric at Azzi’s waist. “And one day, we’re gonna have everything we just said out loud.”

Azzi looked at her for a long moment.

And then she whispered, “I guess we already do. We just haven’t moved it all into one place yet.”

They stayed outside until the tea in their mugs went cold and the blanket slipped to the porch floor, too wrapped in each other to care.

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The house had settled into its quiet night rhythm by the time Azzi and Paige stepped back inside. The lights were soft, the dishwasher humming gently in the background, and the scent of dish soap lingered faintly in the warm air. Upstairs, they could hear the distant sound of water pipes as Tim finished cleaning up after Ruby’s bath.

Katie was still awake, sitting at the small dining table with her reading glasses slipping down her nose, a half-solved crossword puzzle spread in front of her and a mug of chamomile tea cradled in both hands. She glanced up as the girls came in, her gaze lingering on Azzi a little longer than usual.

“Hey, sweethearts,” she said gently. “You two alright?”

Azzi paused in the middle of tugging off her shoes. She looked down at the laces, at her own hands, then up at her mother. “Can we talk for a second?”

Katie straightened immediately, setting the mug aside and pushing her glasses up with one finger. “Of course.”

They sat at the table, Paige hovering near the kitchen entrance like she wasn’t sure if she should sit too. Katie clocked that, but said nothing. Yet.

Azzi fiddled with the drawstring on Paige’s hoodie—her fingers looping the knot, undoing it, knotting it again. She didn’t meet her mum’s eyes when she finally spoke.

“I don’t want him around her,” she said, voice thin but sure. “I don’t want him near Ruby. I don’t want to play nice or compromise or do the right thing just for the sake of being fair. I want him gone.”

Katie didn’t respond right away. She just reached across the table and gently took her daughter’s hand.

“You’re not a bad person for wanting that,” she said softly.

“I keep waiting for someone to say I’m overreacting,” Azzi admitted. “Or selfish. Or cruel.”

“Well,” Katie said, squeezing her fingers, “then you’re not listening to the right people.”

Azzi let out a breath that sounded like it had been caught in her chest for days.

“You gave him a chance,” Katie continued. “When you were scared and alone and still learning how to stand on your own. And he walked away. So no, he doesn’t get to come back just because Ruby turned out perfect. He didn’t do the work.”

“I just don’t know where to start,” Azzi said, finally meeting her eyes. “Legally. Emotionally. I know what I want, but I don’t know how to make it happen.”

Katie was quiet for a second, then turned her gaze toward Paige, who still hadn’t spoken. She was standing near the doorframe, arms crossed, biting her lower lip like it might keep her from talking.

And Katie noticed.

She tilted her head slightly. “Paige?”

Paige straightened. “Yeah?”

“You look like you know something you haven’t said yet.”

Azzi looked up at her then, frowning faintly. “What is it?”

Paige hesitated. Just for a second. Then she stepped forward and placed a manila folder on the table, one that hadn’t been there before.

“I talked to someone,” she said. “A lawyer. I didn’t want to go behind your back, Azzi. But I couldn’t sit still after what happened at daycare. I needed to know what options we had.”

Katie leaned back slowly, brows lifting, but her expression stayed gentle.

Azzi stared. “You… you saw a lawyer?”

Paige nodded. “Just to ask. To get a sense of what we’d need if he files anything. I brought the voicemail. I explained everything you told me. The lawyer thinks we can get ahead of it. Maybe even file for a no-contact order or pursue sole custody if he tries anything.”

Azzi’s face was a mix of surprise and something heavier—something deeper.

“You did all of that?” she asked, her voice quiet.

“I wasn’t trying to control anything,” Paige said quickly. “I just—he scared her. He scared you. And I couldn’t let that sit. I had to do something.”

Katie leaned forward, her hand still on Azzi’s. “That’s what love looks like, baby.”

Azzi blinked, eyes shimmering now.

“I didn’t ask her to,” she said.

“No,” Katie said softly. “But she saw you drowning and didn’t wait for permission to throw the rope.”

Azzi stood suddenly, stepping toward Paige with slow, stunned steps. “You really did all that?”

Paige didn’t answer with words. She just opened her arms.

And Azzi folded into them like it was the only thing she could do. Her breath caught in her throat as Paige held her, arms tight, grounding her.

“No one’s ever fought for me like that,” Azzi whispered, voice muffled against Paige’s shoulder.

Paige buried her face in Azzi’s hair, holding her like it mattered. “You shouldn’t have had to wait this long.”

Katie watched them for a long, quiet moment. Then she stood, gathered her empty mug, and kissed Azzi’s cheek as she passed.

“You’ve got people now,” she said gently. “So lean on us.”

She disappeared into the kitchen, the tap turning on and off in the distance. Her presence lingered, warm and quiet, like a hug that stretched beyond arms.

Azzi pulled back enough to look at Paige, hands still clutching the fabric of her hoodie.

“You don’t have to carry this all by yourself,” Paige said. “But if you need to—I’m strong enough to help.”

Azzi nodded slowly. “I know.”

She leaned in and kissed her—slow, quiet, steady.

And for the first time all day, it felt like the ground beneath them had stopped shifting.

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The house was quiet, wrapped in the kind of soft stillness that came only after a full day—baths run, dishes washed, stories read, and tiny limbs finally at rest.

Ruby was already tucked under the covers, her lavender pajamas dotted with stars, Sparklehorn nestled beside her like a bodyguard in glitter and stuffing. Her eyes fluttered as she fought sleep, curls mussed from bath time and the last of her bedtime giggles still lingering in the room like static.

Azzi sat on the edge of the bed, brushing her fingertips gently across Ruby’s cheek. “Want Mummy Paigey to say goodnight too?”

Ruby nodded without opening her eyes, murmuring, “Mummy Paigey kiss on the forehead.”

Paige stepped over, heart already melted. “Can’t say no to that.”

She leaned down, brushing her lips over the exact spot Ruby tapped. “Night, Roo. Sweet dreams.”

“Dream us on a boat,” Ruby whispered, already slipping. “With juice and cupcakes and no bedtime.”

Paige smiled. “You got it.”

They lingered long enough to make sure she was fully asleep, the kind of deep, peaceful sleep that only came when the day had been filled with safety and love. Then they eased the door closed, leaving just a sliver of light peeking in for Sparklehorn’s sake.

Azzi reached for Paige’s hand as they padded down the hallway, her fingers cold but sure. “She’s obsessed with you.”

“She has good taste,” Paige said, squeezing gently.

Back in Azzi’s room, Paige dropped onto the bed dramatically, arms spread wide like she was collapsing into a mattress of dreams. “Your daughter is stealing all my emotional energy. And I’m not even mad.”

Azzi crawled in next to her, straddling her hips, one knee pressing into the blankets as she grinned down. “Oh no. Mummy Paigey’s tired? Whatever will we do?”

Paige narrowed her eyes. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Azzi leaned closer, smirking. “Who says I can’t?”

And then she poked Paige in the side—just once.

Paige gasped, jolting. “You wouldn’t.”

Azzi did it again.

Paige shrieked and grabbed for her wrists, but Azzi was already in full gremlin mode, giggling as she launched a full-scale tickle attack, fingers merciless at Paige’s sides.

“No—Azzi—AZZI—” Paige squirmed, breathless with laughter. “This is not fair—”

“You started it,” Azzi said gleefully, ignoring the squeals and flailing limbs. “You said you were tired. I’m just helping you… energise.”

“I’m gonna kill you,” Paige wheezed, rolling them over so she was on top, pinning Azzi’s wrists above her head. “You absolute menace.”

Azzi looked up at her, panting a little, hair a mess, but her grin was still all sunshine and chaos. “You love it.”

Paige bent down, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth. “Unfortunately.”

She rolled off with a dramatic sigh and flopped onto her side, Azzi curling into her like gravity pulled her that way.

They lay there, limbs tangled, hearts still racing with laughter.

After a moment, Paige nudged her gently. “You know your birthday’s coming up. And Ruby’s.”

Azzi groaned. “God, don’t remind me. She’s gonna demand glitter cannons and six types of cupcakes.”

“And you’re gonna love every second,” Paige said smugly.

Azzi buried her face in Paige’s chest. “I want to pretend I hate it, but honestly, I kind of live for her chaos.”

Paige ran her fingers lightly over Azzi’s back. “I was thinking we could do something for both of you. Like a joint celebration.”

“Oh, good,” Azzi said, muffled. “A party where I get to share attention with a toddler. My dream.”

“You’ll get your own present,” Paige teased. “Maybe.”

Azzi lifted her head just enough to pout. “Rude.”

“I’m just saying,” Paige replied, biting back a grin, “if you want birthday sex, you better say please.”

Azzi gasped, mock-offended. “Mummy Paigey!”

Paige burst into laughter, her whole body shaking with it. “I hate how that made me feel things.”

Azzi rolled her eyes fondly and yanked the covers over both of them, wrapping herself around Paige like she had no plans to move again. “We’re disgusting.”

“We’re perfect,” Paige corrected.

Azzi didn’t reply—just pressed a kiss to Paige’s collarbone and sighed like the weight of everything had lifted, just for now.

They lay like that, wrapped up in each other, the quiet humming around them, warm and unbothered.

[bugflies00]

I continue to wonder since you said fostering au wilbur continues to be entirely in denial and Not Realizing for some time after he and quackity re-meet how exactly DOES the Feelings Realization TM go down qcihdtiwdzgd

OOOH well its very gradual and very much a disaster because. well. its him .

i think i said they remeet when theyre around 22-23, and at the time wilbur was in a really bad relationship that he only breaks off two or so years later. his girlfriend was very controlling and always bringing him down and making comments about him, his appearance, his interests, what he ate, etc. so needless to say wilburs already absolute dogshit self esteem is so further down the gutter it’s actually Wow look it pierced a hole into the ground from how far down it is.

this is important context because it’s part of why he takes soooo long to realise his feelings, he’s just so deeply entrenched in trying to make his girlfriend happy and love him and to appease everyone that he doesn’t realise. its what i call his “ghostbur” era - none of this stuff is actually strictly based on the bursonas, but i find he does follow a similar pattern of evolution, and at that point in his life he’s trying to be the biggest people pleaser possible after realising that being the unapproachable loner he was in high school would only leave him alone (also bc his abandonment issues got worse after sally left). his new relationship makes that worse also.

in the beginning him and q are just sort of awkwardly tiptoeing around each other considering they last left each other with a bajillion things unsaid and they are extremely determined on keeping said things unsaid. they start to grow back into friends, albeit more normal friends than the absolute mess of a situationship/frenemies they were in high school. theyre still themselves meaning they can’t go a second without aggravating each other, but its definitely friendlier.

and as time goes by some of their joke flirting gets a tad bit too real sometimes- quackity will make a joke and stare at him a moment too long, or wilbur will stutter out of nowhere, etc.

but wilbur still has a girlfriend!!! so as usual he shoves his head in the sand and he takes melatonin so at night he falls asleep instantly without having the time to yearn or reflect lmao. (for the record i do not condone this if your feelings change communicate that with your partner etc)

time progresses, every stranger they meet think theyre either married, sworn enemies, or fucking each other. meanwhile wilburs relationship grows worse and worse, he’s fallen deep into an eating disorder (while he was already struggling with bad eating habits pretty much his whole life it gets much worse then), hes struggling with self harm a lot, and its just not a great time. his friends keep trying to convince him to break things off, especially tommy who, since he lives with them, has seen a lot of shit and absolutely despises wilbur’s girlfriend’s guts and makes this very well known.

eventually they do break up (its a longer story than that but it would require its own post) and wilbur falls deep into a depressive episode. it makes him doubt for so long if he did the right thing, if he just should’ve sucked it up and taken whatever scraps of love he was given, but in reality the depressive episode had been a LONG time coming its just his brain was in survival mode. he never felt safe enough with her, so subconsciously his brain only allowed falling into depression again once it was safe to do so.

and so my point is that with all these things happening he’s absolutely nowhere near ready to accept his feelings. meanwhile q is pining hard - that man is going through it LMAO trying to support his friend (they still pretend to be frenemies) whilst shoving down his own shit. he’s one of the few people wilbur feels safe with (even though theyve gotten into fistfights and q has sincerely threatened his life on several occasions), mainly because, in a way, q knew him at his worst (high school) and still came back. so he has more trust in him than some of his other friends because hes convinced he’s manipulated them into thinking hes better than he is.

anyway q is planning this trip for an internship he’s doing for his law degree, and he has to leave for a month or two. wilburs 25th birthday rolls around, and he knows q wont be able to be there. he’s already still feeling shitty, not really entirely out of that depressive episode, and he’s ready to just have a lame birthday and go back to rotting in his bed.

and then (this is so cliché LET ME LIVE) theyre about to do the cake whatever and tommy yells announces they have a surprise and he turns around and wham! quackity standing there looking downright exhausted, with his suitcases around him and the airplane neck pillow still around his neck (he came straight from the airport). wilbur runs to hug him and, to me, that moment is the kickstarter that forces him to start actually realising whats happening.

first off because theyre not exactly huggers but that one was so spontaenous and it felt so right!! second because hes already sad and a bit emotionally volatile and the fact that q cared enough to rush and try his best to make it to his birthday moves him a whole lot. and finally because well yeah he’s madly in love with him but the only thing he says is to ask whether the eyebags q got from jetlag are a fashion statement in europe or if hes just reaching for the raccoon look.

theres definitely more moments after that (they take a LOOONG time to get together. and so much pining. its so bad) but i just think that moment is really sweet and also i love how their relationship progresses over time

[homunculus-argument]

When it comes to high-context and low-context cultures, where one has the expectation of people understanding specific subtle nuances of what someone says, and the other has the expectation that everything needs to be explicitly said to be understood, I've heard plenty of people from low-context cultures ask "why not say what you mean and mean what you say then, why would you have to speak in riddles?" about high-context ones, like people of the latter type are just being cryptic and esoteric on purpose.

But culture does not consist of things you do on purpose, it is just the way things are done where you were raised. And when you were raised in a high-context culture, the thought of needing to explicitly state something instead of using some phrase or expression that you've learned to use comes as a culture shock, too. It's not "fuck you for not correctly understanding my riddles three", but "oh shit, I hadn't occurred to me that I would need to say that out loud."

The first time I went on a business trip to the US, my partner came with me, and we immediately discovered that he does not fare well on long flights. So when my publisher asked me about future trips, inquiring whether my partner would be coming with me, I asked him. He said that he would, if the flights weren't such a problem - he would need to travel in some way where he could get his feet up or lay down during flights, like business class or first class. Being also a finn, I understood what he meant and relayed the message as is to my publisher, not considering that they might not.

To both of our surprise, they started to actually look for first class tickets for us.

Finnish culture is a high-context one, people don't talk much and aren't very confrontational. Being demanding and putting someone else into a position where they're forced to be upfront or demanding is rude. And in finnish, saying "this would only be possible if these entirely absurd/completely impossible conditions were met" is a polite way of saying "no". You are simply explaining why something cannot be done, without either saying an explicit "no" or seeming like you're making up excuses. It offers the other party an opportunity to agree that these conditions cannot be met, so neither party will come off as confrontational or demanding.

Both me and my boyfriend considered it self-evident that the request was absurd, and could not be read as anything but a polite way to decline. It had not occurred to me that an american's natural response to "it would be impossible to do this" is to start figuring out how to do it anyway.

[c4tluver02]

HEYYYY I have an idea oki so Steve and the reader have been dating for like a year now and like at this point Dustin is basically their son and so reader is helping Dustin get ready for the dance and Steve walks in and they just have a super cutesy mom and dad moment with the kid that won’t leave their house

-🫀

the dance

wc: 2.4k

summary: You and Steve help Dustin get ready for his school dance. Well, really you help but Steve is always nice to be around!!

cw: none !

a/n: hiiiiii!!!! this request is so cutie thank you for sending it!!! :D i hope you enjoy the read <33

You and Steve were in the kitchen talking about what to do for dinner. Or that's what you were doing before he lifted you onto the counter. Before you spread your legs just enough for him to slip himself in between to give you the sweetest kisses on your cheeks, then your nose, and finally your lips. Leaving you in a giggly mess that barely even allowed him to give you a proper kiss. It was only 5pm so you weren't exactly in a rush to get dinner planned out but soon the grumble from your tummy would say something different. 

The soft kisses from Steve would soon turn into something more– a little messy and forceful, with a purpose of course. 

But before he could even get there the doorbell rang. It didn’t stop Steve but the fingers that gently tapped against his jaw told him you were interested. 

“S’probably just mail.” It comes out quick and hushed. His big hands cupping your face ready to get back to what he was doing. 

But right as he goes to place his red lips into your kiss-bitten ones the doorbell rings again. His groan is loud, maybe loud enough for the person outside to hear it. It makes you laugh and before you can get down he’s already on his way to open the door. 

“Henderson?” Steve says as he presses his forehead to the door. Not ashamed to hide how his presence wasn't exactly wanted at this moment in time. 

“I need help. I need to iron my clothes and do you have gel? I don’t have anything to fix my hair.” Dustin says with a handful of clothes that were thrown in a bag. 

All this talking is making you wonder what is going on, walking to the door you see Dustin and an irritated looking Steve. 

“Hey Dustin, did you leave something from the other day?” Because yes, Dustin was just here two days ago to swim in Steve's pool. Again arriving unwanted and without a notice but still welcomed. 

“No, I need help with my suit and my hair.” He says it with an eye roll like you were supposed to understand his problem by the clothes stuffed in the bag. 

You look at Steve hoping he could give you some context but he just gives you a shrug with wide eyes. 

“Okay, well we can help with that.” You say nodding. Steve’s eyes grew even wider, you were just making out and talking about dinner and now you have to steam this kids clothes along with using half his hair gel to tame his wild curls. 

Dustin just smiles as he invites himself in, taking clothes out of his bag and putting it on the dining room table. 

“So what is this all for again?” Steve asks. It comes out a certain way, almost nice because Steves sure Dustin probably told him but he just wasn't listening. 

“For the dance, why else do you think I would come here asking for help?” You’re already laying out his suit trying to see what it looks like and if you need to seriously get the steamer out. 

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe because all you do is come to me for help?” Steve says back in an annoyed tone. 

“And still you are never ready to help.” Dustin huffs. “I need your hair gel and whatever stuff you use to get your hair like you do.” He doesn't even look at Steve as he says it. Too focus on your inspecting of his suit. 

“I’ll get the iron out, you’ve tried this on right?” You would hate to do all this work just to find out it doesn't fit him or something ripped. And this isn't the first time the kids have asked you to iron something that ends up being unwearable. 

“Yes, and my mom tailored it to fit me just right.” He preens, excited to look his best for the dance. Maybe even surprising a special someone. 

“Sweet, okay.” You and Steve leave to get your respected items and when you come back Dustin is digging through the fridge. 

“Are you hungry?” You ask, flipping the ironing board out. 

“Nuh uh, no way you came here to eat up all our food and make us do your dirty work for you.” This makes Dustin wish that maybe Steve was at the grocery store and it was just you helping him. 

“Ugh, I didn't eat dinner before coming.” Dustin groans but not without pressing his forehead to the cold fridge. 

“Why isn’t your mom doing all this for you anyways?” Steve asks with his famous hand on the hip pose. You just started fixing one of the legs for his pants. 

“She’s working. Hence why I haven't eaten.” It comes out in a ‘duh’ tone. One Steve has heard too many times you’d think that it wouldn't bother him anymore. 

“You can eat whatever you want babe.” You tell him. Steve knows Dustin has you wrapped around his finger, always quick to get what he wants with no questioning. All the kids do to a certain extent. 

When Steve turns his head to give you a pointed look you are already looking at him. Ready to hear the small lecture about how you two were busy. But Steve really knew why you do it, Dustin wouldn't need you guys forever and it’s special that he feels this comfortable with you and Steve to even ask for this. Dinner can be eaten later and if you can help Dustin feel even a little better for the dance you’ll do anything in your power to make it happen. Steve would too, when it came down to it. 

While Dustin is eating a sandwich he made, you are finishing his pants. Getting the last wrinkle out as Steve asks him about the dance. 

“So are there any girls you like going?” Steve asks, biting into the other half of Dustin's sandwich. 

It makes him freeze, almost lashing out at Steve but deciding against it. After all, it's his food. 

“Yeah, only one girl, her name is Max.” The way Dustin nods while saying her name makes you giggle. 

“What is it about Max that you like?” You want to make sure this isn't some popular girl that's going to rip him apart by being mean. You’re starting to see kids pick on him and his friends which has you beyond stressed. Steve says not to worry about it but he doesn't get what it’s like to be bullied. Too perfect to be treated any other way during high school. 

“Well for starters she has an extremely high score at the arcade, like even higher than me and Mike. And she's really pretty.” The end of his sentence could barely be heard as he took a big bite out of his food. 

“Don't eat and talk, that's gross.” 

“Okay, your pants are done, did you need your shirt fixed as well?” You lay the pants back onto the long dining room table. It’s meant for a big family which is weird because Steve's parents are never even home but it works in your favor right now. 

Steve can't help but fall for you a little more, which he didn't even think was possible, each time you help the kids. He thinks you might be the kindest person on the planet, always quick to help, never judging or being rude. Simply being there for them whenever they need it, which when it comes to the things these kids have been through– they need it. 

“Yeah, it should be in the bag.” Dusin says as he puts his plate in the sink. “Okay, Steve, wanna help do my hair?”  

You hold in your smile as best as you can when he asks the question, Steve is very specific about his hair stuff and he didn't think he’d have to do any helping. 

“Y’want me to do your hair? What are you 5?” This earns a small hit from you, quick to give him a stern look. 

“I can do it, I just need help getting the sides slicked back.” He pushes his hair on the side of his head down, trying to show the effect and finishing with a purr sound. 

“What was that?” Steve asks, thick brows furrowed.

“What was what?” 

“That noise you just made, what was that?” 

“I’m like a lion?” The room is silent and Steve just walks to the bathroom with hair products in his hands. It takes a second for Dustin to get the hint but he follows just a few steps behind. 

You can hear the mumble of two voices talking, sometimes one voice raised higher. But it doesn't take long for them both to come back out. Dustin has a smile on his face that tells you he's happy with his new look and you’ll give credit where it's due, Steve did a good job on his hair. 

“Wow, look at you! Lookin’ like a million bucks.” The compliment does wonders for him, already getting hyped up for the long night ahead of him. 

“Are my clothes ready?” 

“Yeah, you can change in the bedroom.” You gently lay the clothes in his arms. He’ll probably throw the clothes on and you will have to fix it all over again but the effort is there. 

When he leaves, Steve is quick to pounce back onto you. Hands wrapping around your waist, his forehead pressed against your temple, a soft kiss landing on your cheek. 

“If we keep saying yes he’s never gonna leave us alone.” You can appreciate his usage of ‘we’ when in reality it's really you. And maybe he’s right but for now you don't really mind. 

“It’s okay, I spend too much time with you anyways.” The giggle starts before you end the sentence, finding yourself all too funny. 

Still, it makes Steve laugh as well. Maybe he does spend too much time with you if he's laughing at your bad jokes. 

But Steve doesnt think that's actually possible, he’s way too needy and obsessed with you to even think about getting bored of you. And despite your jokes he knows you're the same. On the days Robin steals you for a girls sleepover Steve still gets a phone call from you telling him that you miss him. It’s sickeningly sweet and something he never wants to stop if he can help it. 

Your little moment is ruined for the second time by Dustin, yelling to ask for help. His voice being a few octaves too high for just being a few rooms down. 

Steve’s feet are planted to the floor and it makes you roll your eyes. His consistency of not wanting to help is iron strong, you’ll give him that. 

When you are gone a minute too long for Steve's liking–again obsessed with you– he walks over and leans against the wall to hear what the two of you are talking about. 

“I mean I just wanna make sure I don't look, like, weird.” He hears Dustin mumble, it’s in a low tone like he doesn't want anyone to really hear it. 

“Why would you think you look weird? Did someone tell you that?” Steve’s glad you went in because he doesn't know if Dustin would be this open with him, and even if he was Steve doesn't know if he knew how to handle the situation. 

“Just some kid at school but I don't, right? Look weird?” 

“No Dustin, you look really great. Max will be extremely lucky to have you. Promise” Your voice is so soft and smooth. Like whatever you say is gospel, 100% true and can't be denied. Your pinky is held out to match your promise and Dustin ties his pinky with yours. 

Steve looks at his watch and decides it’s time to pack things up and go. Giving a quick knock to the door he sees you and Dustin sitting on the edge of your shared bed. 

“We gotta head out soon, Henderson. You ready?” 

Dustin gets up and gives himself a quick glance in the long mirror that lays against the wall. Giving himself a nod, “Yeah let’s go.” 

The three of you get into Steve’s car, the school isn't far away at all. The ride is quick but full of compliments for the teen. You both try to hype him up, Steve gives advice you wouldn't necessarily take but it’s nice to see that he's trying. 

Pulling up to the school's main doors everyone goes silent. You can hear the loud music playing from inside the building and Steve is the one to break the ice. 

“Here we are, so, remember once you get in there–” 

“Pretend like I don't care.” Dusin finishes. 

“You don't care.” Steve nods in agreement. You stay out of it, letting them have a moment but you hope in the end Dusin gets Max by being himself. 

When Dustin tries to get one last look with the mirror Steve is quick to put a stop to it. 

“Hey, you look great, okay, you look great.” 

The sincere tone takes Dustin out of his ‘I don't care’ moment and truly makes him take in Steve's words. Taking a deep breath trying to calm himself down. 

“You’re gonna go in there, you look like a million bucks, and you’re gonna slay 'em dead.” 

Dustin gives little ‘yeah’s between each one with a heavy nod. You nod yourself, in the backseat even though he doesn't see. 

“Like a lion.” Dustin says with a purr, the same one he used earlier. It makes you wince a bit but Steve is quick to fix it.

“Uh, don't do that, okay?” He says it kinder this time. Not wanting to take away all the confidence you two tried to give him on the ride up. 

With an ‘okay’ and a hand shake Dustin is off to the dance. His suit was tailored and ironed to perfection along with his hair gelled by the one and only Steve ‘the hair’ Harrington. It’s a perfect mesh of both of your work. When Dustin is no longer in sight you slip into the front, trying hard not to touch Steve's nice leather seats with your shoes. When you get fully seated in the passenger seat Steve still doesn't move. 

“He’ll be okay, and if he’s not he’ll come back to us.” You say grabbing onto his hand, lightly rubbing circles. 

Steve finally takes his eyes off of the front doors and looks back at you, a smile takes over his face and his eyes look into yours. Giving your hand that holds his a kiss before driving off. You two end up getting fast food for dinner, it’s two and a half hours later than you were expecting but nothing you’ll complain about on the way home.

[wheneclipsefalls]

Healing Hands

Pairing: So'lek x Zeswa Female Reader

Summary: So'lek has accepted his life as an outsider, no clan of his own to call home. For years nothing has consumed him more than the need to exact revenge on the RDA who stole everything from him. Yet somehow all of that changes when he meets you.

Warnings: explicit sexual content MDNI, trauma, mentions of death and war, angst, injuries, obsessive So'lek, lust, p in v, oral, swearing, marking, possessive thoughts, rough, jealousy, yearning, breast play, alcohol consumption, dirty talk, etc (not all inclusive)

You do not need to have played the game to read this story. I did my best to include context clues that make it clear enough.

Disclaimer: I am no So'lek expert so I made some educated guesses based on what I learned playing the game. If you see mistakes....no you don't.

The first instance is innocent. Something that So’lek can attribute to mere chance and furthermore nothing he expected to have any consequence on him. Meeting you is unexpected. 

It happens after a long mission. He had drawn off firepower from the RDA so that one of the Sarentu could infiltrate and shut down one of the drill sites. Not only was the objective completed but it also seemed to have a positive effect on their relations with the Zeswa clan. They are impressed by the action, even more so drawn to a proper alliance between them and the resistance as the effects of Sky Demon technology has worsened on the their plains. 

And so for the first time So’lek gets to witness the Zeswa home. Only there to discuss further relations with the Tsahik and Olo’eyktan, he tries to keep his curiosity to a minimum. However, it is difficult to not be swept away by the beauty of the upper plains. Even more so with the open comradery and community that is exhibited among the clan. The Zeswa are known for being a loud people, proud and brave while also fundamentally aware of possessing such skills. 

They are a direct contrast to the Aranahe in that aspect. Everywhere he walks there are groups laughing boisterously, young warriors sparing while others cheer. Even when they fight there is not the usual demeanor So’lek is accustomed to. An air of playfulness is present. It is not weighed down by the same bitter thirst for revenge his own training exhibits. 

There are colorful tents and kelku all positioned around caring for the hibernating Zakru. These giant beasts lay in the warm embrace of sunshine as their smaller counterparts laugh and rush around them. A foreign yet delightful relationship to behold. 

His meeting with Minang and Nesim is short. No real negotiations are needed as they too are quick to join a fight. It is one of the things that So’lek has always appreciated about the Zeswa. Unlike the Aranahe they require no convincing when it comes to defending their home. If anything, they only wait to see which allies will be worthy of fighting alongside them. Fear is not a common ideal among them. 

It is when So’lek has paid his respect to their leaders and begins making his long trek home, that he hears a voice. 

“Are you going to leave it like that?”

So’lek’s ears perk, tail stopping midair. When a few seconds pass it becomes clear that the voice behind him is in fact addressing him and not a clan member. Slowly turning on his heels he looks down to find you. A female at least a head shorter than him wearing traditional Zeswa colors and looking up at him with an inquisitive brow raised. Despite your diminutive stature, you blink up at him without an ounce of concern. 

“Your arm.” You clarify and much to his surprise he looks down to where you’re pointing and finds that there is a sizable gath along his bicep. It must have occurred somewhere between drawing the firepower out and taking down an amp suit with his bare hands. There is a tinge of pain now that you’ve brought attention to it, but it’s nothing in comparison to what he has endured in the past. 

“It is minor.” He responds slowly, unsure of what answer you are expecting from him. Most clan members among the Aranahe barely acknowledge him. Not that they can be blamed. He is a stranger with a gun in hand and a permanent scowl in place. Neither has it ever truly bothered him. However, you seem to be in no mood to let him out of his impromptu conversation and it has him slightly on edge. 

You scoff, soft features already laced into an amused expression. “Minor or not it needs to be stitched.” 

Are you going to make him visit the healer’s tent? There would be no need. The hospital outpost within Resistance headquarters is sterile and inhabited by Sky People that barely understand the fundamentals of Na’vi anatomy, but it has always done the job before. Big or small injury, he has remained in one piece. 

So’lek keeps a neutral expression, only allowing himself the release of shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “Minang has other responsibilities.” 

You roll your eyes and a short laugh escapes your throat. “Men,” you mutter under your breath, just quiet enough that he starts to wonder if he has imagined it. “Come. I will fix it.” 

He doesn’t immediately move at your command. After a few steps you turn over your shoulder to still see him standing there and it seems as if you are trying to hold laughter back at the sight of him. Although, So’lek can’t fathom what could possibly be funny about him. 

“I do not bite. Come.” Voice fused with a playful laugh, you gesture once more for him to follow. So despite his better judgment, So’lek trails behind you, shortening his stride so as to not clip your heels, until he is gestured into a large tent. There are only a couple healers left in the tent. One woman is organizing the herbs while a male healer inspect a gash upon a man’s leg. Both of them turn to exchange a smile with you upon entering. 

Smiles that waiver when they spot him towering behind. 

“Sit down.” You command, pointing to a mat on his left. Reluctantly So’lek obeys, but his tail is already whipping with impatience. The others will be expecting him back soon. It is only a matter of time before Priya is bugging him over the radio for results on his talk with the Zeswa. It is not as if he is about to bleed out or lose his arm from waiting a few more hours for stitching. 

Regardless, you keep an eye on him while gathering a needle, thread, and the proper ointments. You’re checking to make sure he doesn’t run off and you are nowhere near trying to hide it. In fact, when his eyes meet yours, you give a chipper smile. He holds back a sigh. There will be no escaping this tent soon. 

The same upbeat attitude is not fully shared among the other Na’vi present in the tent. They remain polite but on guard. By the time you are kneeling next to him they have one by one created excuses for needing to leave. It’s just the two of you now. 

“Let me see.” In usual fashion you demand, although voice soft. So’lek watches as you examine his arm, small fingers curling under his bicep carefully. The touch lights something in his stomach until once again he is wondering how long this visit will be. “My name is y/n.” 

The sudden admission has him zoning back in. His golden eyes peek to see you from his peripherals. When the ointment is lathered over his wound So’lek is too busy turning the name over in his head to stop himself from flinching. 

“This is the part where you tell me your name.” Your gaze has risen from where it was inspecting his gash to now inspect his motionless expression instead. So’lek bites back the urge to swallow the lump in his throat. Wonderful. This may be a waste of his time but that is no excuse to be rude, especially among members of a new alliance. 

Social interaction, however, has never been one of his strong suits. He had spent years in the forest surviving alone after his clan was wiped out. Many days the only interactions he had with another being was the prey he hunted, diligently whispering the prayer of thanks over their dead bodies before preparing a meal for one. And even since then, So’lek is vexed to admit that a majority of his conversations have been with pestering Sky Demons at resistance headquarters who ask far too many questions and lag in recognizing his distaste for such interaction. 

“It is So’lek.” 

“I know who you are.” You shrug, back to focusing on spreading the ointment. His hairless brows pull together. 

“If you know then why did you ask?” Except, you technically didn’t ask. You urged him to share, a distinction you graciously don’t correct. 

“Because that is what people do when they meet each other. Just because I know who you are does not mean you shouldn’t share your name with me.” Yet another custom he has become out of touch with. Years away from a true Na’vi clan may have broken him in more ways than he had originally imagined. And yet, you don’t appear to be offended. There is a sparkle in your eyes, something he can’t quite analyze but it holds a lightness he’s unfamiliar with. 

The ointment you spread smells sweet. Almost like the pod fruit he picks near headquarters for lunch. Or perhaps the nectar he can occasionally finds while traveling. Whatever it is, it’s far better than the usual stench of medicine used at headquarters. Those strangely packaged doses have a thick texture and sterile smell that always makes his stomach turn. 

But this…this is almost nice. Even as the lathered touch burns along his wound. 

“Your Sarentu friend comes to visit often. They stop by for a meal and materials, even socializing upon occasion. But I never see you.” The needle gracefully slips beneath his skin but So’lek can barely focus on the sensation. “I was starting to think that you were a myth created by them for a good story.” 

So’lek is at a loss for words. What exactly is your point? Are you suggesting he should be spending more time among the Zeswa. It is the Sarentu that had received an invitation to help, not him. Up until now he has remained respectful of your clan’s space. It is only for an invited meeting that he finds himself here to witness your home for the first time. But the way you talk about it makes him almost feel guilty for not dropping by earlier. 

Would the Zeswa people have welcomed him if he had? Give him a smile as he cooked a meal here or crafted a better bow as the Sarentu often do? He’s not sure if he would know how to respond if they did. Your attention has already proven to be hard enough to reciprocate as is. 

“I attend to responsibilities at Resistance Headquarters.” 

“So I’ve heard.” You hum. There is something else in your voice, some hidden message in your tone but So’lek can’t decipher it for the life of him. So once again he is caught wondering what your intentions are in bringing it up. Perhaps nothing. You are strangers to one another. Just because you have gone out of your way to heal him does not mean you care whether or not he graces the clan with his presence. For all he knows, making conversation is a polite practice for good bedside manner. 

Your precision is admirable. A calm consistent draw and pull of the needle to create perfectly tight and even stitches sealing him up. Far better work than that done by flimsy Sky People hands at headquarters. And while their small faces often pinch in concentration when stitching, your features remain relaxed. Even tranquil, with just the softest of smiles present. 

In a way it almost causes his own demeanor to follow suit. That is if it weren’t for your distracting appearance. It has been so long since he has witnessed true Na’vi crafted attire so he can’t really be blamed for running his eyes over your intricate top of bright reds and oranges. It’s only when you shift slightly that he realizes how scantily clad your chest is with only the decorative fabric. And it shouldn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. 

Nudity is not a big concern among the Na’vi. They are not ashamed of their bodies. But it’s clear he has been hanging around tawtute far too much as he feels the need to shift his gaze away every time that flimsy covering slides one way or another. And where they land, however, is just as distracting. The soft curves of your faces, long dark lashes that blanket your fixated gaze. Even your hair that is entirely unrestrained with only a few flowers woven along your crown, allowing it to fall down to your waist in soft waves. 

Staring isn’t a big deal. Or at least it shouldn’t be, but there is something about letting his eyes land for too long that puts him on edge. Perhaps it is some lingering adrenaline from the fight that still has him on alert. Even has his stomach twisting into weird knots. Usually by this point these effects have worn off, but So’lek tries not to read too far into it. 

A hiss escapes his lips without permission when fingers suddenly press into his shoulder blade. 

“By Eywa…” You marvel, now coming to press against the area harder even as he hisses his discomfort. “You are wound very tight. There is a giant knot here.” 

So’lek’s teeth dig into the inside of his lips to keep back further hissing, but there is no controlling the writhing of his tail. Despite all of his efforts, however, it seems that none of this is of consequence to you. You are more than content to ignore his pain and dig further into the muscle in order to examine the damage better. 

“It is just…tense.” He defends, finally veering away from your hands. 

“That is a nice way of putting it.” You scoff, shaking your head as if he has told a joke. “It needs to be massaged.” 

So’lek blinks back at you. Massaged? Of course it would be nice to stop having that blaring pain in his shoulder but what is he supposed to do about it? It is simply a consequence of pulling back his bow so many times, or even from slotting the stock of a rifle against that shoulder. But then you are reaching out and it hits him. This is you offering? 

Out of reflex he pulls away. Bottom lip caught between your teeth, that amusement paints your features again as you glare back at him. It’s the same look a parent gives their child when they are misbehaving. It has his ears twitching, tailing curling in anticipation. For what, he does not know. 

“It is fine.” So’lek assures you, holding a hand up when you try to reach him again. 

“Do not be ridiculous. It is not fine. That is, unless you are okay with letting it go until you are unable to move your arm without pain.” You have him there and you know it, watching him patiently until he will finally give in to your superior logic. 

You are being a good healer, no doubt far more observant of his state than anyone that has ever treated him among the resistance. And it’s true that restricted mobility would cause a direct conflict to his plans of revenge against the RDA. What point is infiltrating a base if he can’t even pull back the string of his bow? So So’lek can’t quite understand why the idea of conceding to this massage has his heart racing. 

Perhaps there is a personal aspect to it that makes him weary. He does not know you and you do not know him, no matter what stories the Sarentu has supposedly shared. You’ve just about wrestled him into this tent to get mended and now you are fully prepared to massage his pain away. To let those delicately soft hands run over exposed skin, bring him relief in a way no one else ever does. 

His heart rate is far beyond what it should be outside of battle. 

“Are you afraid I will hurt you?” Brow bones raising, you give him a look that says you know exactly how that idea attacks his male pride. Regardless, So’lek can’t hold back a scoff. 

“No.” 

“Then there really is no reason to be stubborn now, is there?” It’s a rhetorical question because only a few seconds after you are settling behind him and grabbing a basin of massage oil. 

For the first time since meeting you, you hesitate when your fingers just barely brush his tactical vest. Immediately that touch is pulled away and you fumble to find an angle that will reach the knot in his shoulder without touching the gear. 

It’s not the first time he has witnessed this hesitation among the Na’vi. The vest is intimidating, tacked on with a radio, ammunition, and many other pieces of Sky People technology that is entirely foreign to you. He remembers that caution in himself the first time he tried to hold a gun. Despite your carefree and pushy nature, this mysterious article seems to put you on edge too. 

“Do you want me to remove it?” 

“What?”

“The vest.” Daring to peek over his shoulder he finds your bottom lips trapped again before a simple nod is given his way. He sets down the vest a distance away with his gun too. Anything to make you feel a little more at ease. Ironically, however, it is him that is left feeling vulnerable without the heavy piece, only a thin swooping necklace over his bare chest now. Has it really been so long since he has removed his armor? Some nights he forgets to unclasp the vest before exhaustion takes him, but he has always blamed that on pure circumstance, not any sign of associated comfort. 

Your apprehension is washed away as if it was never there in the first place, now that you are facing only bare skin. The oil that you begin lathering over his shoulder smells strongly of dapophet but there is something else mixed in there that he can’t place. A strong essence that has memories long forgotten tugged to the forefront of his mind. Images of his clan, his family. Is it possible that the Zeswa use similar herbs in their medicine as that of his clan’s tsahik?

That thought is immediately interrupted when fingers begin to dig into the muscle again. A sharp agony pings through him, his muscles naturally tensing to protect the injured area. However, it is all for not when you continue to dig at the area mercilessly. So’lek usually considers his pain tolerance to be quite high but somehow this pain is so deeply rooted that he can’t stop himself from veering away. Even when you tug his shoulder back towards you, a hiss escapes his lips. 

“Hold still.” You demand. 

He tries. He really does try because squirming like this is borderline embarrassing. He is a trained warrior for Eywa’s sake! A little massage should not have him writhing like this. Regardless it seems this knot has gotten far worse than he could have imagined. 

“It really is fine.” So’lek grits out between clenched teeth. Star above, it is painful! He’s about ready to let the injury worsen if it means escaping your merciless hands. 

“Are you going to stop squirming like a child or will I need to pin you down to do this?” 

He can hear the amused smile in your voice but that’s not what his mind fixates on. Instead So’lek is horrified to witness how quickly his trail of thoughts leads to sinful places. How fast he can conjure up images of your smooth thighs cinched around his waist, your long hair falling over one shoulder to tickle at his spine. How easily he could quickly flip you over until he is the one that pins-

No. He must stop! A seasoned warrior well into his adult years should not create such innuendos so easily. That is for children, perhaps his years as a teenager where his hormones were wildly out of control. Back then he had a reason, but what excuse does he have now? 

“Better.” You murmur and it’s then that he realizes his dirty thoughts have somehow managed to distract him from the pain, autopilot keeping him in place. 

His jaw still clenches as you prod at the muscle, but eventually pain gives way into something else. Skilled fingers slowly ring out the agony he did not realize was there until his shoulders are sagging in relief. Your technique is meticulous, methodic. For such small hands you have quite the plethora of strength, wearing down his body until it is going lax. 

And then there is a tune. A song so quiet that it takes him a moment to realize it is you humming behind him. That foreign melody captivates him easily. Ears perking to catch every change of note, So’lek drowns in your sweet voice. And sweet it is, no better sound has he heard in years. So much of his daily life is accompanied by yapping tawtute and distant RDA bombs.

There are times where the lab tawtute put on records to play but that music is offending in comparison to the theme you weave now. It reminds him of home. Not even specifically of his clan per say, but just the feeling of having a home. Of having a community to bask in. 

Rich melody and trained fingers working in kind, So’lek melts beneath you. For the first time in a long time he remembers the difference between surviving and healing. Pleasure radiates from every touch you bestow and So’lek begins to slump, limbs feeling like noodles. Lost in the tranquility of the moment he doesn’t originally catch how concerning his thoughts become. How easily his body starts to yearn for your touch in different ways. 

How easily he starts to yearn for you. 

The interaction was innocent. And So’lek stands by that fact. You were pulled away abruptly by others demanding your attention and although it took him a few seconds to come down from that strange high, he had gathered his things and left the Zeswa with only your rushed goodbye as parting. 

He had shaken it off as a weird experience, just the shock of true Na’vi medicine after being corrupted by tawtute practice for so long. However, when days pass and his mind keeps dragging him back towards that event, So’lek knows he is in trouble. 

Were it just about the exceptional effects of Na’vi healing he wouldn’t be so concerned. After all, his shoulder has never felt better, his mobility and flexibility far beyond what he has done in a long time. So it would only be natural to have a fixation on something that rendered such positive results. 

But it’s the dreams that worry him. Dreams that start out as intangible images of your long hair, soft hands over his skin. Things that could be shrugged off as a wrong mix of hormones messing with his subconscious, potentially a faceless woman it imitates. But then they become more intense, uncomfortably vivid. Stories woven by his subconscious that are not only specific but inherently sexual. 

He dreams of how your lips would taste against his own. He dreams of your body pressed against him, of an intimacy far beyond what he could ever describe in words. Even the way his scent would beautifully coalesce with your own upon scent marking his territory. 

It is borderline madness. So’lek has only ever met you once! One time where you simply did your job as a healer. Creating fantasies out of such a small instance is truly pathetic. Of course it has been a while since he has been intimate with a woman but these feelings have not risen in years, especially not in a way so close to obsessive that it has his head reeling. 

And yet the dreams morph into the tangling of his actual conscious thoughts as he tries to go about his day. When he is sneaking up on a sturmbeest he’s wondering if you even remember that short hour together. When he is trading materials with the Sarentu his mind trails to guessing what activities are filling your day. And when he talks to Priya, well he tunes her completely out because surviving your nervous rambling is only doable when he’s imagining how the sun reflected off of your hair. And frankly, anything to keep is patience while talking to the purple haired tawtute is approved as far as he’s concerned. 

Maybe he really has been alone for far too long. He is at an age where courting and mating is a common motivation and so his body is pushing him towards the first female that has given him attention. It is biological. It must be. Once his hormones have died down all will return back to normal and he can forget you ever even met. 

That’s what he tells himself for the first week. So’lek stomps down the day dreaming as fast as possible and concentrates on his true goal, riding this planet of the RDA. He is in cohorts with the Sarentu and takes down every RDA tawtute and vehicle in his line of sight. But that doesn’t stop a nasty urge from sticking. Just this tiny idea of an injury bringing him back to the Zeswa healer’s tent. It seems that your duties primarily reside there and so it would be more than likely that he would find himself under your tender care again. 

And it’s hideous the way this fucked up idea becomes a fantasy for him. He is a warrior! A man of honor and courage. No warrior should ever long for an injury, no matter how minor. Especially when it could take him away from helping those who need him most, away from defending his home. So So’lek won’t say he falls from the tree on purpose. 

He is collecting shell fruit up in the red trees. The proximity to Zeswa camp is only a coincidence. Of course his agility is usually far beyond letting himself get scrapped up and falling a few branches down, but everyone has bad days. The only sensible thing to do while so far away from resistance headquarters, is seek a healer from the Zeswa.

He can be quick. In and out with little interference on their daily activities.

So’lek maintains a neutral mask when he reaches the healer’s tent. His greeting is polite but detached with every clan member that passes him by. However, there is no stopping the disappointment that lowers his tail when it is a different female that ushers him in for treatment. You are nowhere to be found in the spacious tent. Just a few elderly Na’vi receiving care and one child getting a scraped up knee bandaged. 

Truly he is grateful for the help received. Ka’xhori is the name of this healer and she does quick ,but quality, work on his bleeding thigh. Several times her curious stare is caught by the strange devices on his vest and even the darker stripes across his forehead. She makes conversation for a few minutes but when his answers become choppy and short, she silently resigns to his lack of interest. 

It’s towards the ending of the wrapping that he spots you from a distance. Just through the opening of the tent he catches you returning with a group of friends, shortbow in hand. A male to your right carries a fresh kill and the female to your left exuberantly tells you a story. 

Your eyes sparkle in delight, avidly drinking in the story. And then your friends says something that elicits the most beautiful sound he has ever heard. You laugh, a laugh quite different than the teasing one you had exposed him to the first time. This one comes from your gut, a belly laugh that has your eyes crinkling and teeth on full display. There is a vibrance to this demeanor that has him drawn like a moth to a flame. 

You’re babbling back at your friend with that same enthusiastic energy until both of you are struggling to not collapse to the ground in a fit of giggles. Even the male carrying the kill can’t defeat such infectious sounds of joy. Complete unabashed delight. No pretense. No mask, just a blinding smile he may never be able to unsee. 

“That should hold for a while.” Ka’xhori says, tugging on the leaf bandage for good measure. 

“My deepest gratitude.” His deep voice responds on autopilot. Most likely it is not convincing enough but So’lek is already shuffling out of the tent before she can respond. 

Despite the natural tugging in your direction, So’lek turns to the trail opposite. This obsession has gone on long enough. He thought that perhaps coming back here would only prove it to be some silly crush born out of dramatizing your first interaction together but now he sees this is only becoming more dangerous by the second. It’s best to cut himself off now while he still can. 

With a bit of distance and discipline he will be back on track. 

“Hey stranger!” 

So’lek pauses at your call, turning around to find you already leaving your friends behind to approach him. It takes everything within him to not reflect on the sway of your hips, the confident yet eased strut you exhibit.

“Kaltxi [hello].” He murmurs, giving the proper touch to his forehead in respect. 

A giggle catches in your throat at his formality. “Kaltxi.” You mimic his tone, but return the gesture. “How is the shoulder? I hope I didn’t rough you up too much.” 

Only psychologically. Only planting some brain rotting disease he can not rid himself of. 

“It is much improved.” 

Hands placed on your hips, that response seems to do the trick. However, it does not satisfy you enough to allow him an escape from this conversation. 

“So you’ve come back for more business, then?”

So’lek tumbles for a proper excuse. 

“I was here for…” It’s too late you’ve already noticed his bandaged thigh. 

“You are injured again?” You make a small tutting noise in disapproval, coming to circle him closer. “You know, So’lek I have found that it is better to dodge the sky demon bullets, not race right into them.” 

You joke as if the two of you are old friends, even a hint of mischief present in your composure. So’lek is left feeling lost in how to navigate this playful environment you’ve created. Even more so unsure on how to avoid admitting he fell out of a damn tree to get this mark. It would only show his weakness. Perhaps even give you the idea that he is uncoordinated in hunting and combat. 

Not that it matters. Why should he care to prove himself as a competent and athletic male? 

When he doesn’t respond fast enough you beat him to the punch. “You are not actually shot, correct?” 

“I am not shot.” 

“Good.” And he may just be imagining it, but there is a flicker of relief in your expression. What would your reaction be if he was shot? He would be mortified to be caught so easily by poorly aimed sky demon bullets but would that have won him some sympathy? Would you have tended to his wound directly, stayed by his side as he was nursed back to health?

“Well then if you are not bleeding to death you should stay for a meal.” 

So’lek flinches when you’ve suddenly grabbed his left hand and tug. This recoil is punished with your hand pulling back, regret immediately slinking through his veins. Despite his brash reaction there is no sign of embarrassment in your expression. Just a simple roll of your eyes. 

“I could not impose.”

“You are not imposing. It’s an invitation, So’lek.” You correct him. “Which in Zeswa culture really means you have no choice but to accept.” 

He’s tempted to ask what would happen should he refuse, but he bites his tongue. It’s important to keep his relations with the Zeswa friendly, being polite as he can manage with his little social skills. So So’lek trails behind you, watching as the skip in your steps sway that long hair back and forth across the curve of your spine. 

Just as with the healer’s tent, your presence immediately has others joyfully expressing their own greetings. 

“I am still waiting for that rematch, Niwin.” You call to male on their right, covered in red paint markings. 

“I told you, tsmuke [sister]. No number of rematches will give you the victory you desire. It is a waste of time.” He calls back, pausing from his work on a spear. 

“Spoken like a true coward. Is your tail truly still stuck between your legs?” Pearly whites on full display you only laugh when he sends back a teasing hiss. So’lek doesn’t miss the way Niwin’s eyes catch and track his frame. He is not the only one to silently wonder what you are doing with a man like him. 

Exchanging waves and inside jokes along the way, the two of you finally reach the largest of the Zeswa tents. Inside are Na’vi sprawled out and socializing, some crafting weapons while others use the cook fire to prepare meals. 

Trusting that So’lek is following behind obediently, you make a beeline for a certain male next to the cookfire. Long dreads falling over his shoulder he is fast at work, properly cooking meat over the fire. A savory scent fills his lungs. 

“Novao, I have brought you another victim.” You grin, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. 

“Such little faith you have in my genius.” He mutters, but stops short when he notices who stands behind you. His brow bones raise.

“Kaltxi,” So’lek signs awkwardly. 

“Kaltxi,” Novao returns, the response uttered on instinct. “Who is this?” He asks, turning to you. 

“Who is this?” You scoff, pushing at his shoulder. “This is So’lek, of course. By the stars, Novao, you would forget your head were it not attached to your body.” You snicker coming to kneel beside him. 

So’lek hates to appear as if he is mimicking your motions but standing above the two of you now feels awkward so he slowly kneels. 

“Do I want to know by what means you have kidnapped this man?” Novao goads. 

“You said you need a larger sampling audience for more diverse feedback. Look at how I deliver.” You quip, bumping his shoulder with a proud grin. So’lek’s ears flicker at the playful jesting, but he doesn’t allow a smile. “Do not question good things that come your way.” 

“I will once you stop questioning the success of my soon to be famous dishes.” 

Is this how you converse with everyone? If so, perhaps there is nothing special about the way you tease him. Just a general reflection of your boisterous personality that he is not accustomed to. 

“I apologize in advance if this dish causes physical repercussions.” You hand over a leaf of cloaked panther meat crested with vegetables and some sort of seed. A recipe entirely new to him, but he accepts. “There is no telling when Novao’s new recipes will bring you to the heights of ecstasy versus the edge of an early grave. But he needs opinions, so we must do our part.” 

You make a show of holding up your own portions, as if to prove you are in this together. Novao grumbles under his breath but prepares a plate for himself while holding back a smile. 

The first bite is intense. It takes a second bite to fully interpret the burst of flavor in his mouth and once he has, So’lek struggles not to scarf down the entire thing. Even you can’t hold back an approving moan as you chew. A sound that damn near has him spiralling again. 

“It is wonderful,” He says. 

“You see, even this newcomer knows how to appreciate food better.” Novao is quick to jump in. 

Giggling after finally swallowing, you concede. “It is one of your better dishes to date, brother.” 

So’lek has a hard time understanding how this isn’t ranked as the best dish period. He himself is proficient in cooking but So’lek has never taken it up as an art as some do. Most of his dishes have just enough flavor to suffice. During desperate times he occasionally will dip into his small stash of disgusting RDA meals. Nothing, however, has compared to this. 

“Do you claim to cook better?” It’s a genuine question but it has Novao rumbling with laughter immediately. Your brows raise. 

“Oh, look who has a sense of humor after all.” Brows raised, you peer back at him with narrowed eyes and a swishing tail. “Not a very good sense of humor, but one all the same.” 

He can’t tear his gaze away from your burning attention. So’lek’s own tail curls along the floor. It’s not even praise but your spotlight warms his skin just the same. It feels good to elicit some sort of response from you, instead of the other way around for once. 

“Y/n burns everything she touches.” Novao jests between bites. 

“You exaggerate,” comes your quick defense, although posture unbothered as you take another bite. 

“She almost burned down this very tent last time she tried to cook a simple skewer.” 

So’lek can see it now. Na’vi running to and fro out of the tent as you stand there looking perplexed by a raging cookfire. 

“What can I say? I am not made to bother with this mundane task.” You shrug, leaning back on your elbow to lounge. The new position accentuates the dip of your waist until it curves out into full hips. 

“So simple that you purposefully fail at such a boring task?” The questions pops out before he can stop it. But So’lek is slightly startled when you immediately clap a hand down on his knee. 

“You see, So’lek understands!” That dainty hand does not immediately retract, resting upon his bare skin there. He hadn't realized how close you were already laying until now. When you cock your head to the side and continue to banter with the other male, that soft hair comes to tickle at his thighs. 

Being in your space fills his senses with your scent. An essence so unique and addicting that So’lek once again gets the urge to run for the hills. Instead, he remains diligently unmoving, worried that any small shift will have you shuffling away from him. And basking in an entertaining conversation between friends and a good meal before him, So’lek finds that he is in no hurry to return to headquarters. 

It becomes a bad habit of his, looking for excuses to return to the Zeswa home. So’lek had stayed far beyond finishing his meal last time. He blames it on good company, something that seems to be hard for him to keep nowadays. The Sarentu clan joining the resistance has brought him some comfort since but they like him are always busy with their own responsibilities, even further weighed down by scars that are far too fresh. 

So’lek had only convinced himself to leave once your mouth watering essence and occasional friendly touches had become far too much for his body to handle. To his utter mortification there had been a stir in his tewng [loincloth] and he knew then that it was important to make a speedy exit. 

He’s playing with fire, he knows it. So’lek should be doing everything he can to avoid temptation, not race back towards it. Yet, there is something within him that can’t seem to pass up any excuse there is to return. 

“What is wrong?” So’lek reluctantly asks. He doesn’t know how much longer he can silently watch Priya mutter to herself and pace back and forth in front of the monitors. She is on the brink of a full meltdown and as luck would have it, he happens to be the only one in the vicinity as the others take lunch. 

“Nothing,” comes her frazzled response. So’lek shrugs, good enough for him. At least he can say he asked. “Well I mean a little more than nothing I guess. Although that really depends on how you look at it.” 

So’lek holds back a sigh. So they’re doing this after all. 

“It’s just that I sort of forgot to send the coordinates of the new RDA drills sites to the Zeswa after I specifically promised to get it to them within a few days. But I somehow completely forgot, because that’s what I do. Typical Priya. I’m sure at this point they are already upset and-”

“I’ll do it.” 

“What?” 

“I will share the coordinates with Minang and Nesim. That’s what you need right?” 

Priya’s mouth gapes like a fish out of water. She takes an annoying amount of time to gather herself from the apparent shock. 

“Well…I mean yes but that would mean traveling all the way to the Zeswa camp you realize.”

“I realize. Give me the demon tablet.” So’lek snips, holding out his hand for the pad. So maybe it’s not that common for him to help Priya after a foolish mistake like this but he still can’t see how that is enough to elicit such a dramatic response. Nor does So’lek want to wait around for her to start questioning his motives. 

“Wow um yeah of course. I will grab that for you and uh…” She trails off, spinning around as if she is chasing her nonexistent tail, while really just trying to locate the tablet. Priya finally hands it over with a smile. “Thank you, So’lek. I really appreciate it.”

“Yes. Goodbye.” He has never left headquarters so fast. 

Furthermore he manages to make it to Zeswa camp in record time without trying. Walking through the camp he forces himself to make a beeline to Nesim, although a part of him wishes to check the healer’s tent for Minang first. Doing so, however, would only increase the chances of coming across you and getting entirely sidetracked. 

Minang and Nesim are far more forgiving of the delay than Priya gives them credit for. It takes some time trying to properly explain the map on the tablet, as it’s their first time truly interacting so closely with these screens, but eventually he manages to relay the proper information and get all of them on track. 

The beginnings of plans for certain amushes are made and So’lek is given detailed information to return to HQ. Nesim leaves immediately once the plans are made, anxious to get preparations under way. Minang however hangs back in the tent. 

So’lek almost doesn’t notice her presence as he finds himself staring past the tent entrance to where you sit weaving a basket. It feels rare to catch you alone like this but you appear entirely at ease working the fibers together. 

“She is one of my assisting healers.” Minang says, almost making So’lek jump out of his skin when she is suddenly by his side. His eyes immediately dart away, feigning a disinterest as he rakes over the scenery equally. 

So’lek clears his throat before speaking. “That is good.” Despite the strength of his voice, Minang seems to find some sort of amusement in his response. She wears a neutral expression but even he catches the twitch of her lips. 

“I heard the two of you have already met.” 

“Briefly.” 

“Great. Then she will be perfect.” Minang says with an assured nod. 

“Perfect…for what?” A wrinkle settles between his hairless brows as So’lek’s mind races to understand at what point he became so lost in this conversation. Instead of answering his question directly, Minang turns to walk further into the tent. Already moving on to the next task she talks while starting to gather some of her cooking supplies. 

“My sister and I have been talking and we’ve decided it would be beneficial for you to learn how to ride a pa’li [direhorse]. The Sarentu has already taken it upon themselves and has progressed immensely. As another ally of the Zeswa it only makes sense you learn some of our ways too. It may become necessary for any future ground attacks.” 

She continues to gather her things without facing him, but Minang’s ears perk to hear his response. So’lek can’t remember the last time he has ridden on a pa’li. It would have had to have been briefly as a child, not actually making the bond himself but riding with his father. It was not a common experience among his clan and since then he has never had the opportunity to explore it further.

“I see. That is…logical.” 

“Y/n will be happy to teach you. She is an experienced rider. A good karyu [teacher] I think.” 

So’lek feels as if there is a rock lodged in his throat. 

“I would not wish to lessen her availability in the healer’s tent.”

Minang gives a low chuckle, turning to look at him with a swishing tail and wide smile. “I have plenty of help for the time. Besides, since you two have already met, that would make her the ideal choice.” 

“Yes, I see. Although I would not consider us more than strange-”

“I will give her word of this assignment. Return at noon tomorrow for your first lesson.” And with that she saunters out of the tent, leaving So’lek gaping for words and mind lagging to process the turn of events. 

Despite having come all this way for the chance to see you, So’lek goes to slightly extreme lengths to escape the tent without your notice. Brisk walk taking him further and further away from your alluring scent, he asks himself how the hell he is supposed to survive lessons in your presence without going entirely over the line. It’s caught in this spiral that he almost misses Novao’s quick greeting. Just a simple wave before the male is turning back to his meal, but it still catches So’lek off guard. Which appears to be the theme of the day.

And perhaps it’s in his head but it feels as if less people shy away from him as he leaves the camp. A few other Na’vi even extend a goodbye nonchalantly. 

“Did something happen?” Priya twists to meet So’lek’s far off gaze. 

“I have already relayed the information.” 

“I think she means did something happen to have you spacing out like that? You’ve hardly said anything since returning.” Anqa steps in, putting an arm around Priya’s shoulder’s as a comforting act. 

So’lek stares down at the two tawtute. He’s not sure what they expect of him. Confiding with sky people is not a common practice of his. In fact, confiding in anyone is a rare occasion. Neither does he believe they would have any way of understanding his situation. Priya and Anqa are still so wrapped up in their honeymoon phase that giving them any piece of his love life would only set them off like fireworks. He would never hear the end of it. No doubt they would pry until his patience would run out. 

“I will be gone tomorrow.” So’lek says instead. 

“Oh, helping the sarentu again?” Anqa inquires. 

“The Zeswa require my presence. I will return before eclipse.” And before they can question him any further he retreats to his small living quarters. Despite his quick retreat So’lek can still pick up their gossiping whispers behind him. 

Keeping this under wraps may be more difficult than he anticipated. It feels impossible to keep a secret in a place like this, jammed together in a cave with so many tawtute. Then again, this can’t even be qualified as a secret. In order to do so there would have to be actually something to share, and there isn’t. Nothing has occurred between the two of you. It’s just his own imaginings that threaten to get him in trouble. 

You, on the other hand, are just fulfilling the requests of your Tsahik and Olo’eyktan. Even doing a little more than asked by extending a friendly welcome to him. With any luck he will learn to ride a pa’li fast enough to stop this from spiraling out of control and involving other unwanted parties. 

It’s with this attitude that he makes the trek out the next morning. A strong resolve to stay focused and complete the task at hand efficiently. After all, he’s always been a quick learner. Why should this be any different?

“Starting the day a little grumpy, hm?” He spins around at the sound of your voice. Sauntering from a nearby tent, today you wear a decadent feather top. Something so light and revealing it would only take the right gust of wind to have it shifting. So’lek’s digs his nails into his thighs. 

“Um no, I am ready to learn.” 

“Oh so that is your focused scowl. Hard to tell the difference.” With a pep to your step, you motion for him to follow. “Well then if you’re so anxious to learn, let’s get started, lazy bones.” 

“Of course.” So’lek concedes with a nod, but he doesn’t miss the giggle you try to stifle in front of him. Perhaps he is a little formal, even stiff at times, but most people simply take it as a sign to leave him be. The same is not true in your case. 

The sound dies down significantly once the two of you have made it away from the Zeswa camp. Gliding through the tall reeds and plants of the plains there are times where he can only get a glimpse of you through the foliage. So’lek shuffles to keep up. For someone with a significantly shorter stride than him, you sure move fast. 

“There you are!” You call with glee before running forward into a clearing. Finally afforded a proper view of the open space, he spots you next to a pa’li, running a hand along its snout. The creature seems to lean into your touch, just as happy to see you as you are her. “I knew you’d be out here somewhere, girl.” 

When So’lek steps out of the tall grass the creature immediately stiffens. He goes stock still in response. 

“To ride a pa’li you must first show them you are not a threat. Soothe them into letting you approach.” 

So’lek nods his head and takes a steadying breath. Unfortunately, it is only a few steps in before the pa’li is rearing back, trying to get out of your hold. You coo softly, giving comforting words and touches until she is back in your space once more. 

“Perhaps let’s start without your bow first. Just for now.” 

Reluctantly, So’lek slowly removes all forms of weaponry on him and places it on the grass. Try, try and try again, he does all he can to get closer. When you tell him to slow down, he moves at the pace of an insect. When he tries to imitate the cooing sounds you often make it not only has the pa’li running away entirely but also you struggling to hold back your own laughter. 

Trying not to notice the way your tail curls in amusement, So'lek persistently continues.

“A pa’li is not like an ikran. There is no show of dominance to win over lifelong loyalty. Instead you must prove yourself to be caring and trustworthy every time you approach.” 

It’s good instruction but none of it seems to be doing him any use. For whatever reason, he can not get within a few steps of the direhorse before she is running for the hills. Frustration blooming quickly, So’lek’s jaw clenches. 

“You know, the problem is quite clear and simple to fix.” Head tilting to the side you draw forward to him a few steps and this time let the pa’li run off without interference. 

“What is it?”

“That scowl. Not the most inviting demeanor.” You point out and a line forms between his brows. So’lek places his hands on his hips, nose scrunching at the remark. 

“It is my face. There is nothing I can do to change it.” 

“You could try to smile.” You goad, demonstrating a smile of your own. “I’m sure if you put your mind to it, you could manage.” 

“I smile.” Apparently not enough considering you are not the first person to make this suggestion. Keeping a stern expression is not always on purpose, but with all that’s happened it somehow feels like a comforting guard set in place. He is not as vulnerable when others have a hard time reading him. 

“Alright alright.” You concede with hands raised in surrender. “I believe you. It just would be nice to see.” There is a spark of mischief beneath that comforting smile. And something tells So’lek that you are no longer talking about this just in the context of soothing a pa’li. “Let’s try something different then.” 

Air catches in his lungs the second your small fingers are wrapping around his palm. This time, So’lek doesn’t make the mistake of flinching and scaring you off. With rising curiosity he allows himself to be manhandled by your gentle grip. He is pulled along slowly until the pa’li is only a few steps away. 

To his surprise the creature does not immediately shy away now that the two of you approach her together. Slowly his hand is coaxed to lay across her snout, but even once it is placed there your touch does not disappear. Your petite fingers remain calmly pressed over the back of his hand. They coax him to create long soothing strokes across the creature’s leathery skin but every now and then your thumb will run over one of the protruding veins of his hand. 

Saliva gathers atop of his tongue. He should be focusing on this small success and creating a further bond with the pa’li but all he can feel is you. Buttery soft skin and dazzling eyes that peek up at him with praise on your tongue. 

Getting so worked up over something so simple is truly ridiculous and he can’t quite figure out when or how you gained this power over him. 

Soothing the pa’li is one thing but making the bond and mounting the creature happens to be another feat entirely. It takes at least a dozen times to make the bond and mount once but even that only lasts for a few seconds before he is bucked off. Once. Then twice. Then the third time he is catapulted into the lake. 

Breaching the shallow pool, So’lek’s lips turn downwards and he can’t keep back a frustrated grunt. His eyes narrow when they settle on your form nearly hunching over from laughter. Wiping the mud from his brow his gaze is enough to have you trying to stifle your amusement weakly. 

“You are laughing.” He deadpans. 

“No no I am not,” You clear your throat in efforts to stop the giggles as you wade into the water where he sits. “I am not laughing.” 

So’lek doesn’t know what comes over him. An action born from pure emotion, but when he accepts your extended hand of help he doesnt use it to hoist himself up but instead yanks on it hard. With very little force you easily go flying to the ground next to him and beneath the water. A shocked sound escapes your throat the second you resurface. 

An apology is on the tip of his tongue but you don’t give him a chance. 

“Oh I see how it is.” With a threateningly deep chuckle you are already rearing up and splashing a wave of water over him. Whatever amends he was ready to make are chucked aside as he shakes the water from his braids and his tail curls in excitement. 

You are back on your feet and running before he is halfway up. Fast little thing, you are. But it’s no matter, with the adrenaline now racing through his veins it is only a matter of time before he catches up. Splashing, pushing and even tripping all go underway until both of you are covered in lake mud. It’s like being a child again, his hands grasping for your tail at every chance he gets, your own smaller hands managing to fling mud into his braids. 

So’lek’s own deep laughter rumbles in his chest far before he realizes it. An insatiable thrill runs through him as the two of you indulge in play that he has not experienced since he was half this height. And when you tackle him back into the water he comes to find that for the first time in a long time he has forgotten about his nagging objectives. 

He is drunk on your laugh, the way it rings like a beautiful chime in the upper plains wind. Lazily sprawled next to you he tries to reel back his own chuckling just as your chest heaves for air. 

“I knew you could smile.” You manage between breaths. So’lek only has a second to understand your words before there is a distant boom. Head whipping towards the source of the sound he finds it comes from far east. One of the many drilling sites he had shared the coordinates of. He’s ready to shrug it off and continue, far accustomed to the dreadful noise and what it means at this point, but when So’lek turns back to look at you that feeling immediately shifts. 

Your ears are pulled back, almost tucked beneath your hair. Tail limp beneath the water and blank stare fixated in the difference. For the first time since meeting you there are no traces of a smile, not a flicker or spark in those beautiful eyes. Something heavy hangs there in its place. And the breakneck change in demeanor gives him chills. 

It’s as if you’ve forgotten he is there. That usually curving and free moving posture has now straightened into a locked position. 

“It is a drilling site in the east. Several miles away.” So’lek says carefully. There is no telling whether or not his comment makes it better or worse, but with a smooth voice he continues. “It is from a drill that they use to make a hole in the ground.”

‘What?” You whisper, almost as if coming out of a daze. 

“That is what you are hearing. It is an awful sound.” His muzzle wrinkles at the truth of his words. So’lek has come far closer to those dreadful machines then he ever would have liked but at least he now has experienced first hand how they can be stopped. Still, there are nightmares that echo with that Eywa forsaken sound occasionally. 

With a hesitant hand he starts to reach out to place it on your shoulder. “It is alright to be scared.” 

He doesn’t make contact before you are whipping back. 

“I am not scared.” Hastily you spring up onto your feet and back towards the shore. It feels as if the moment has shattered like glass before he could even understand it, leaving him reeling to catch up. “Come, let’s get back to work.” Tone hard and words clipped, you are already out of his reach. 

So’lek is careful not to bring up the drill again, or any RDA activity for that matter. He pretends not to notice that you’ve changed the location of his training further from the drill site. And when he enters the next day he is on edge, watching your features for any signs of distress. 

Surprisingly, you seem to have switched back to your usual friendliness. It’s as if that conversation never happened and since So’lek is more than lost on what to do he easily follows your lead in not talking about it. In fact, as more lessons come and go it becomes easier to follow your lead in many things. 

You are a talkative woman, always chattering about your opinions on different matters (big or small) or filling him in on the intricate inner workings of Zeswa clan gossip. At this point he could probably name just about every clan member from their pieces in your stories alone. When you’re sharing so much like this, it becomes only natural to divulge some information himself. 

You ask about the resistance headquarters, about how many tawtute live there, what they eat. Even more personal things like where he manages to sleep and how he fills his days outside of his pa’li lessons. Although at first feeling a little put on the spot, So’lek eventually warms to this line of questioning. You are simply a curious individual and when you soak in every mundane detail he gives with a vibrant excitement and big wide eyes, it’s hard to not enjoy the attention. 

Learning to ride a pa’li is exceedingly more trying than he had anticipated. Even once he has learned how to mount and start a smooth walk, navigating and getting up to a gallop feels like starting from ground zero again. Despite these difficulties, the extended lessons don’t bother him as he would have expected. 

Some days you greet him with leftovers from Navao’s newest creations (letting him learn the hard way that you’re right about some of them having physical consequences) and other days it is him that brings back foraged fruit or random trinkets from HQ you might find interesting. Those meals are shared in the tall grass of the plains, stories filtering out of your lips faster than he can keep up with as he watches your long hair dancing in the wind. 

There is one question, however, that you never ask him. Perhaps because you already know what happened to his clan. So’lek doesn’t share the story of his clan decimation by the RDA, but word travels. The memory of his people has become a cautionary tale. Not much more than a story to rile anger and motivation to bring the sky people down once and for all. The Sarentu clan shared a similar fate, but they have each other. Even a handful of people is a desirable clan in his eyes. 

It’s a week into the lessons that So’lek finds himself at the Zeswa camp early. He had come across a patch of tsawksyul [pandoran ‘sunflowers’] earlier that morning and was gathering it without thought. He has no use for the delicate flowers but it seems right to leave it with you. Surely you are more than happy to find ways of weaving it into a new intricate top. He’s heard enough about your designs to understand it’s a passion of yours. 

So with a little too much anticipation and haste, So’lek enters the camp early in search of your bright smile. It’s your voice, though, that he hears first. It filters from the healer’s tent. Lurking on the opposite of the doorway So’lek goes to round the structure and enter but he stops midway. 

“Is this about the man from the tawtute clan?” 

“His name is So’lek.” You remind the anonymous female, gently. 

Every muscle in his body freezes at the sound of his name. This is wrong. Listening in on a private conversation is bad enough, even when it is not about you. Yet, his neck cranes to see if anyone else is around instead. Since he is on the opposite side of the tent there is not a soul to note his presence yet and So’lek simply can’t get himself to move from the spot. 

“And why do you assume it would be about him? Does there have to be another man involved in order for me to take time to thoroughly consider Ra’vang’s courtship?” You challenge and the other female lets out a sigh. 

“Of course not, but you have been spending an awful lot of time with him.” 

“Naturally,” comes your simple reply, entirely unbothered. “I am teaching him as I was instructed.” 

“Yeah I know and you’re very kind to do so but you have to admit he is a little…strange.” 

“That is not true! He has simply been through shit that you haven’t.” All softness bleaches from your voice. 

“Woah! Okay, retract the claws. I am sorry. I did not mean to insinuate anything negative by it.” He recognizes your little huff in response. “It’s just that the two of you are very different. That’s all I’m trying to say. He is very…stiff.” 

A beat passes and through the tent material he swears he catches the shake of your head. “So’lek is selective when it comes to socializing. He may come off serious but there is a lot more beneath that hard exterior than you would realize. It’s simply not on show for everyone.” 

It feels as if a wire has been tired around his heart, his lungs furthermore forgetting to take in needed oxygen. 

“I admit I do not claim to know him as well as you do. But…I can not imagine living in such close quarters with sky people like that. Always surrounded by metal.”

“Of course you can not. Most people are not cut out for such a task. But we benefit from the Resistance’s aid, so perhaps we should be grateful that So’lek is capable of dealing with it.” 

“Okay okay, I see your point, sister. Just…be careful what decisions you make right now. Ra’vang is a strong warrior and provider. Even if it’s not him you have other options, many good ones. Spontaneity may be your specialty but I’d hate for you to let a good mating pass by simply because you are not thinking this through properly.” 

You give a small sigh but it’s light, void of anything but fondness. 

“If there is one thing I do know it’s that love is not something to be analyzed and bash one’s own head over. I think things through, but I know how to listen to the song of my own heart too. I don’t make it a practice to question what it tells me.” 

So’lek staggers away. Any longer in that spot and he risks being seen, or sending his thoughts into a further tangled mess. He looks down at the flowers in hand. You defended him, said a lot more than most people would have. It fosters an unfathomable fire in his chest and yet it’s tampered by a reality he wishes to not face. 

You have suitors. Real men of the clan that are not only native to this culture and lifestyle but also expressing interest through real courting displays. If your friend’s words are anything to go off of, you’ve gathered many good prospects. And why wouldn't that be true? It’s easy to imagine what they would see in a woman like you. Easy because it’s everything he sees too.

But So’lek….

So’lek is not Zeswa. He hardly has traces of the lifestyle from his own clan within him. The years have shaped him into somewhat of a mut in Na’vi breeding. He does not know the way of any clan how he should and there is a darkness within him that rages for revenge. These men have been brought up to take care of someone like you. They are able to give you so much more than he ever could and yet here he stands with a courting gift in hand like a true skxawng [idiot]. 

Whether or not it was intentional is irrelevant. If he gives these flowers to you it will surely be a sign of interest. He will instigate himself as a competitor in this game that he has no right playing. 

So’lek discreetly slips them into a basket of herbs in one of the tents. Someone else will find use for them, but it won’t be in his hands when you arrive. 

The entanglement of his thoughts leaves his body buzzing with energy. So much so that even though he hardly hears a word you say during the lesson, he somehow manages to conjure up enough tenacity to stay atop the pa’li while in a gallop. And then faster and faster he pushes the creature with that racing adrenaline he sends down the bond. 

The whip of the wind, the strain of his muscles, all of them work to offset the mental exhaustion that is quickly blossoming. And then his golden eyes finally take in the scene before him. Tall grass races beside him on every side. Trees of crimson leaves dot the open field where arrow deer scurry and Soundblast colossus nap near the sparkling river. 

The plains are monumental. It settles a deep awareness of its grandeur. 

Your celebratory yips and hollers echo from behind. 

And rushing through this scene feels like flying for the first time again. 

Completing the training finally gives So’lek room for a breather. He stunts the disappointment at not seeing you every day with the knowledge that this will only simplify the situation. Without being kept in close quarters he will be free to devote himself entirely to taking down the RDA and you will be free to explore courtings and potential matings without his interference.  

Luckily there is more than enough work to keep him busy now that they are preparing to go up against the largest drilling site to date. When your laughter echoes through his mind, So’lek goes through the RDA rosters until his eyes burn and a headache clouds all thoughts. When his brain compulsively conjures up your teasing jests being directed at another suitor, he hunts feral viperwolves until he is covered in scratches and forced to the hospital wing. 

And it is only once that he accidentally crushes a mug in his grip in front of Alex and Anqa as he envisions another man’s tongue running over your luscious curves. He chalks it up to tension created by the upcoming battle, but it’s clear Anqa has shared the occurrence when Priya gives him worried looks for several days after. 

Despite his busy work, So’lek finds himself relieved when the day of the ambush finally arrives. It is the first time the Zeswa and the Resistance have worked together in combat and the air buzzes with excitement. He only thinks of you for a moment when he mounts a pa’li and joins the Zeswa in leading the majority of RDA firepower towards the hills. 

A small band of Zeswa warriors, tawtute soldiers, and the Sarentu clan work together to infiltrate the base quietly, taking down the drill from the inside. 

Hours feel only like minutes when his body is pumping with adrenaline. It begins and is over all before he can really process it and by some Eywa given miracle, not only do they succeed but there are only injuries to be accounted for. Muscles aching, forehead beaded with sweat, and entire body still pulsing from the intense vibrations of close range gun power, So’lek heaves a deep sigh of relief. A tangible weight lifts from his shoulders, a peace that is often fleeting but something he has learned to enjoy while it lasts. 

There will be more to do tomorrow. The RDA are nowhere near exterminated, but for now he basks in the knowledge that they are one step closer to ridding them for good. The Zeswa holler and cry into the wind with a passion that seems to shake the very hills. Even those that are injured take part in celebrating this victory. 

Watching the scene makes his chest swell with foreign feelings. So many times he has been left to reflect on the aftermath of his solo missions without another to share that moment with. Celebrations occasionally occur at headquarters but never has it felt like this. And his lungs seize, almost bursting with the need to let out his own cry in the mix of their allies. It calls to a part within him that often feels buried away, even forgotten. An instinctual part of him that is true Na’vi, a creature that has a place in Pandora’s beauty. 

Years worth of turmoil releases in that guttural cry and to So’lek’s surprise, it is a sound of pure elation that rings from him. 

It was within that spirit or triumph that So’lek had been extended an invitation by Nesim to join them in festivities. Although noncommittal in his response, he finds himself preparing to leave headquarters hours later. The tawtute and Sarentu work together to create their own party in the dinghy cave. A part of him feels as if he should be there for it, a party of outcasts that he has grown accustomed to associating himself with. But that primal cry remains trapped in his chest. It calls him to the plains. 

And so for once, So’lek decides to let himself celebrate.

There are little memories left of clan parties, most just blurry images of firelight and dancing shadows. They are only mere facades in comparison to the burst of conviviality that So’lek can hear within a mile of camp. 

Walking through the center of camp there are very few Na’vi still residing there, most simply rushing to and fro in search of supplies or friends before scampering back to where the real party is being held. Down the hill he can see towering flames and a gaggle of bodies dancing with fervor. 

He takes a step, then pauses. 

So’lek’s fingers are hesitant as they undo the clasps of his chest guard, but it eventually loosens and slides down his arms to rest in the grass. He sets aside his bow, his gun, and every piece that is made of metal or meant as a weapon. Even his arm guard is placed neatly in that pile. 

The wind nips at his vulnerable form and So’lek is once again struck by how naked he feels without these things. This time though, he settles into that discomfort. This is a party. One night where he will not plot his revenge or sharpen his weapons. A single night where he can pretend to belong. 

The last streaks of fiery red disperse from the sky and in their wake, eclipse conjures Pandora’s bioluminescent glow. Tahni [star-like freckles] light along his exposed skin. So’lek’s ears perk the closer he gets to the party. The very thrum of the heavy drums vibrates at the soles of his feet, reverberating to punch him in the chest. 

There is a vibrance in the air, an energy so palpable it feels as if he can taste it on his tongue. Whatever drug has infused the scene, it seems to spread rapidly among the celebrating parties. Zeswa of all ages and stations are muffled together in a form of dancing that So’lek can only describe as pure frenzy. 

Movement without direction. Feet atop the wind as if a fire has been lit beneath them. 

It is unlike anything So’lek has ever witnessed before. His golden eyes flicker frantically across the parade before him, unsure of what to take in first. The very air in his lungs is filled with the hickory essence of smoked meat. Even his ears flutter across his braids, attacked by the onslaught of sound. 

And then, there is you. 

Right in the very heart of the festivities, as he could have guessed. His overstimulated senses finally find a target, settling entirely on the way you move within the crowd. Much like the rest of the Zeswa your body moves with unabashed enthusiasm. There is no rhyme or reason to the swivel and swish of your small form. You act on pure instinct, a reaction of feeling to the euphoric buzz around you. Pure elation. 

It is a complete disregard of outside perceptions. There is nothing but your windswept joy and the music that moves you to and fro. Although the entire scene is curious by nature to him, there is something about you that constantly pulls him in. And that’s what it is. Your presence is magnetic. It draws not only So’lek in but everyone around you, it’s clear in every reaction he has witnessed. 

You are a free spirit. You move through life as if nothing could ever clip your wings and for all he can tell, you may just be right. Because even in the midst of grief and war, your scars act as the embers to light a vibrant sun in your countenance, until that empathetic warmth seeps to those around you. 

The female next to you, her name Ta’kuri he believes, leans over to converse with you over the pounding music. So’lek’s heart drops to his stomach when she points a finger in his direction and your eyes snag his form. Your responding smile is bright upon spotting him, but So’lek can only focus on the fact that he has potentially been caught staring. 

Small form practically swallowed by the crowd it takes a moment for you to extract yourself from the mesh of bodies. Just enough time for So’lek to calm his heart and feign shown interest elsewhere to cover up for his flub. When you saunter to the outskirts he purposefully waits a beat before sliding his gaze in your direction. 

“Well if it isn’t my star pupil, oeyӓ numeyu [my student]. You actually showed up.” You are all teeth, grin center stage as you pin him with those golden eyes. 

“Kaltxi karyu [hello teacher],” The edges of his lips twist into a lopsided smile without permission. “Nesim invited me.” 

“And now you are here. Finally ready to have some fun, yes?” Chin tilted downward and brow raised, you give him a look that suggests the only correct answer is yes. He feels the snap of a retort at the edge of his tongue. Something about how he is not the grumpy pants you always claim him to be and how he does in fact find time to enjoy himself on occasion. But those are words spoken far before he decided to leave you be. So’lek is trying to be good, desperately trying to be respectful and do the right thing. 

“The celebration is very enjoyable.” 

“Very enjoyable?” You scoff with a half laugh. “How could you even know? You have not even begun dancing yet.”  

So’lek immediately staggers a few steps back, at the speed of a prey avoiding a lethal blow. “No no, I am content to enjoy the party here, paskalin [honey/sweetheart].” Shit! He can’t fathom at what point he gave his mouth permission to utter such an affectionate term. So’lek’s insides twist and for perhaps the first time in years his cheeks fill with heat. He thanks Eywa above that the darkness is enough to hide the new tint. 

Despite his slip up, your grin never falters, in fact it seems to widen until dimples form in your cheeks. “So’lek you need not be stubborn every time I ask something of you.” 

When you catch his wrist in a surprisingly strong hold he is left with no other option but to wobble behind you. “I do not know how to dance. I was never taught.” He shouts to you over the music. 

Throwing a smile over your shoulder you do not respond until he has successfully been pulled into the edges of the crowd. “There is nothing to teach.” You say, dropping his hand to face him. “Dancing is the opposite of thinking, So’lek. You simply feel.” 

“That is not the comfort you believe it to be.” 

Your laugh is barely audible over the roaring drums. “What you need is some liquid courage then.” With a wave of your hand Novao is flagged over. His eyes roll but the swish of his tail is friendly when he comes over to hand two skins of liquor over. 

“You are an angel.” You giggle, taking the containers with glee. 

“So much more than you realize.” Novao snorts before giving your shoulder a teasing bump and sauntering back towards the cookfire. So’lek barely has his hand wrapped around one of the skins before you are chugging back the other. 

When squinted eyes peek up at him over the rim you finally take a breath and push at his hand. “Novao is proficient when it comes to strong drink, I promise.” 

Not wishing to feel out of place for any longer, he slants his lips over the rim and takes an ambitious guilt. Regret immediately stings his throat as it slides down like pure fire. The responding choke that comes from him immediately after is utterly humiliating. Eyes already welling with tears, So’lek does everything in his power to shut up the ridiculous sound and gain whatever is left of his composure. 

“A little strong, huh?” There is a giggling shrill to your tone but a flicker in your gaze shows concern simultaneously. So’lek is shaking his head before you can even suggest a glass of water. 

“No no it is fine just,” He clears his throat, “...different.” 

And different it is in comparison to what he has had. It is only now that it hits him how long it has been since tasting anything even close to resembling alcohol. There are a few tawtute at headquarters that occasionally try their hand at brewing alcohol but it is nothing short of fowl and disappointing. There are no inebriating effects from such water down drink, especially consider he is the twice the height of the intended party. 

So what comes next is completely out of his control. His body is rendered utterly unprepared for the strong drink that he continues to consume in spite of his better judgment and the fact that you don’t continue to urge him to drink. However, So’lek is no child. He is a man, and one that should be able to hold his liquor so when you occasionally blink up at him or catch a glance from the corner of your eye to make sure he is doing alright, it warps his pride to push him into foolishly drinking down even more. 

“Okay I think that is enough.” It takes rising onto your toes in order to reach the rim pointed at his lips. That apparent show of height difference should not please him so much but there is no denying the thrill that tightens his chest. “Now you dance.” 

Braids clinking together he is already resisting as you continue to pull him deeper into the crowd. “I truly do not know-”

“Yes yes, I heard you before. I will assist you.” Peering up at him through thick lashes, your hip bumps against his thigh softly as you tack on, “Or do you not trust me?” 

That is the line that sinks him. Head already feeling floaty, So’lek lets you maneuver him into position. 

Small hands skate across his shoulder blades, for a moment those talented thumbs press into  the muscles there just as you had done upon your first meeting. “You are too tense. You must relax.” 

Easier said than done when there is a line of electricity left behind every inch of skin you touch. But sooner than later he finds his shoulders loosening, starting to sway in a weird motion that seems pointless but actually fits with the rhythm of drums. A burst of confidence fills him when you step back to face him from the front again, trusting him enough to continue the motion. 

“There you go! Learning already.” And just as the simpering student he feels like he is would, So’lek perks up at the praise. Those flirty smiles and encouraging words coupled with the strong drink running through his veins, it becomes all too easy to let his body go without thought. 

Regardless, you continue to guide him. So’lek falls into line with whatever movement feels natural from your promptings. For the first time in years a fuzziness takes over that nagging voice of responsibility and he lets his body take precedence over his overactive brain. The more liquid fire he consumes the easier it becomes to not imagine what he must look like on the outside. Every fiber of his being gravitates towards the addicting pulse of those drums. Drowning in that vibrant energy until he is also engulfed in the crowd of Zeswa. 

Other Na’vi surround him from every side but it’s your touch that pulses through him. A brush of fingers along his arm, his bicep. The zapping electricity every time that dainty hand clasps his own to pull him closer. Even the tickle of your hair in the wind brushing his chest has him fighting back a full body shiver. 

Dancing is not a brash display, although some excel in that arena. No, dancing is the mechanism that pulls you closer to the touch you crave. The perfect opportunity to let hands wander, to mold bodies together without social consequence. And now, So’lek finally understands the rave over this activity. 

So’lek doubts he could confirm whether or not his head is still attached to his shoulders with the amount of alcohol running through him. However, there is no more vivid memory than the one of his hands mapping your frame. They encase your sides, ribs, up to your shoulders over your collarbones, feeling the silky skin beneath as you curve into every brush of his greedy hands. It’s when one hand mindlessly curves around the nape of your neck, the two scents mingling in the most satisfying of ways, that So’lek finally catches the burn of another’s stare.

It radiates from a male off on the sidelines. Each hand holds a skin of strong drink while the male attempts to burn a hole into So’lek’s head through slitted eyes. Something rumbles at the back of So’lek’s head. A voice that tells him there is some reason he should be upset by this situation, but that caution is muffled. It rings out like a message shouted from the deepest part of the lake and So’lek can’t find it within himself to spend more than a few seconds trying to decode it. 

It’s not just you that distracts him. Ta’kuri is suddenly on his left shouting some sort of encouraging words over the music. There’s no making sense of it but before he knows it there are more Na’vi that join the mix. Even Novao meshes with the crowd at some point, slurred conversation passing between him and every Na’vi he meets. Some friends lean on each other to stop from collapsing on the ground in their drunken state while others flourish in a flutter of moves that has the fields buzzing with cheers. So’lek’s own voice joins the other exuberant shouts. 

To call the event hectic would be an understatement but every time So’lek feels as if he may be the one to topple over next, there is a small hand at the base of his spine. Gorgeous golden eyes and a bright smile peering up to remind him that you are watching over him.  

So’lek dances until his ears ring. He dances until the very soles of his feet have grown bruised from landing on the hard ground. It is only when you are stumbling across the long grass, caught by his strong hands desperately trying to pull you back up that the two of you decide to trail off from the dance floor. 

“Save some drink for the rest of us, sister.” Ta’kuri jests, tapping your nose once before helping So’lek pick you up from the ground. That sweet voice seems to be in a constant state of giggling, a sound So’lek is in no rush to rid himself of. 

The two of you find yourselves back in the middle of camp around a fire thanks to Ta’kuri. Several other Zeswa stagger to the outskirts of the cookfire, some already sloppily rolling in the dirt with greedy hands wandering into dangerous territory. The outright display of lust hardly fazes So’lek when his attention is caught by a leaf of meat handed to him. Tender and sweet, it settles in his stomach heavily, finally starting to soak up the excess of alcohol consumed. 

You are just as consumed by the food as he is, scarfing down the last bit with a delighted moan. 

“Alright you miscreants, let’s leave some room for oxygen.” An older male grumbles fondly, softly nudging a couple with his foot who are engaged in a heated lip lock. He settles around the fire and after several minutes of squinting So’lek makes out the figure to be Kin. Although his thoughts still muddle through a haze, So’lek can finally feel his brain starting to come back online. 

Kin engages the group in grand stories while offering milk to be passed around. From the corner of his eye So’lek tracks the way you sway to and fro as the stories continue, but that smile never leaves your tempting lips. Several times you sneak a peek up at him, causing his tail to wind against the floor. 

“This story again.” Ta’kuri mutters from his left, quiet enough that Kin continues the tale without interruption. 

“He has only told it a dozen times before.” Novao adds, sitting on the other side of you. “That is quite good considering how many times he has told the others.” 

“I don’t remember this one.” Lips screwed into a pout and eyes squinted in concentration, you stare intently at the male in the middle. Ta’kuri lets out a short laugh before handing over another container of milk. 

“You don’t remember any of them when you're drunk.” You accept the drink, ignoring her fond scoff and the way So’lek’s gaze is once again drawn in your direction. 

“So rude,” you huff. He lends a steadying hand when chugging down the bowl of milk has you toppling backwards. A deep laugh rumbles in his chest with ease, even once you are back upright and sending him a heated glare. 

Playful comments and quotes of the story are passed between the four in hushed tones until even So’lek is fighting back tears of laughter. Luckily the other Na’vi do not behave much better, half of them already on the brink of wrestling in the grass or laughing until on the verge of passing out. The entire scene is a messy jumble of comradery. It warms him from the inside out. 

“I left it down by the lake.” Novao whispers urgently. 

“You should not be so careless with your things. Who’s to say an arrow deer has not run off with it by now?” Ta’kuri quips back, still even So’lek can tell that she is going to go back and look for his spear with him as requested. 

“I see it is not only Kin making up stories now.” The joke earns him a swift swat to the head with a few fond insults woven before the two are rising. 

“Can I trust the two of you to survive until we get back?” She gestures between So’lek and you, a crooked curve of her lips present. It’s doubtful that you have understood even half of where the conversation is at this point but you do respond in a way that both shocks and amuses him greatly. Fingers together at your forehead you flick it out messily in the same way the sky demons do in salute. It’s imperfect and honestly he’s not sure if there is any true understanding of the action but it appears to be an inside joke that Ta’kuri is in on. She returns the gesture with a fond grin. 

So’lek doesn’t try to break the silence once the pair has left. It’s hardly uncomfortable with such jovial ambience surrounding. Not to mention the fact that he’s not sure how of a conversation you can carry in this state. It makes no difference. Sitting here is nice. Being next to you is fulfilling in a way he could not have imagined. 

“I lied.” 

So’lek’s ears stand at alert. Your comment comes so abruptly that he takes a second to lean forward and make sure that you had meant to say it. Those beautiful eyes are transfixed off in the distance but there is no sign to say otherwise. 

“About what?” So’lek shifts forward, propping an elbow on his knee as he veers forward to observe your strange expression. 

“About not being scared.” It’s a miracle he can detect that whisper over the boisterous conversation around. A part of him wishes he hadn’t. It creates a knot in his stomach. “I am scared. I’m scared all the time. Even on days like this, I should be happy. But I still worry that it could all be ripped away. I don’t want to lose everything, not like…” 

The end of that thought dies in the wind but So’lek catches it anyways. 

Don’t want to lose everything like he did. One glance at your now pinned back ears proves his suspicions to be correct. Comforting others is not his strong suit. Heavy emotions have a way of winding his tail anxiously as he sputters to understand the right course of action. But tonight, he is grateful for the lowered inhibitions brought on by liquor. It’s what allows him to pause and simply feel the weight of your words. 

So’lek’s rough hand, a hand battered by handling weapons in the face of war, settles over your knee. That warm touch has glistening eyes staring back at him. 

“That is not going to happen.” It is a vow, one that is spoken deep from his chest. The Sky People have stolen everything from him. Everything. But he is not afraid to protect you from the same fate. To promise with the last meager supply of hope he has left that he can and will prevent this tragedy from coming your way. 

A single tear cascades over your cheek. Then you’re suddenly curled up against him, resting that head of long hair against his shoulder, seeking refuge there. It bursts something new within him, something even scarier than he has experienced since meeting you. Never in his life has he been a safe place for another person. That honor has never been one he’s opened himself up to or has felt worthy of. 

But you tuck against him, sigh into his neck and every form of tension in your tiny frame evaporates. 

“Fuck, I’m so drunk.” Your half giggled slur coaxes out a deep chuckle from him but So’lek is careful not to move otherwise. This moment is too fragile. And if he’s not careful in a blink it will be tomorrow. A day where he puts that chest guard back on along with every other responsibility he has holstered alone for years. That yearning for revenge will return and clean out the softness that only you can supply. 

So’lek can’t recall at what point he had fallen asleep. The last thing he remembers is Novao laughing so hard that milk came out his nose. Eyes as heavy as metal doors, he squints them open to find the sky still dark. He is not the only one to have dosed off in the middle of camp around the fire. Different groups of Na’vi are passed out in the greenery but there is a warmth at his side. 

You are curled up into a ball, a ball that is slotted against his own body. Even your face presses at the bicep, your nose cold to the touch. Without the protection of tent walls, the breeze is free to brush over the gaggle of Na’vi. Somewhere in your slumber you must have sought out the first available source of heat. Him. 

The wind comes from your direction. So’lek is hardly conscious enough to consider tucking you into a tent for the night so instead he does the next best thing. With careful precision, he lifts himself up over your curled frame and settles himself on the other side. This way the wind now hits him before you. Laying on his side then allows him to create a wall that you can hide from the wind behind. 

A shiver sends down his spine at the first nip of plains of air, but So’lek doesn’t dare consider moving. Legs untangle and your tail splays out flat again. Although it’s clear this tactic has warmed you up nicely, he is shocked to see you turning over to face him once more. Breath caught in his chest, So’lek watches as you groggily tuck up against him and sigh with a smile. 

How many years had it been since he has slept this close to someone? 

So’lek has had occasional lovers, but only as means to an end. Nothing deep. Never anything on an emotional level for either party. And so naturally neither did they end in snuggling close to sleep afterwards. 

Call it pride. Call it living in denial. But something pushes him to forget about tomorrow and cocoon you closer to his chest. 

So’lek’s dreams don’t carry the strain of blood and terror that night.

“There you go, rise and shine sleepyhead.” That soft voice barely filters through the wind, let alone through So’leks head that now feels like the weight of a tank. Throat dry and eyes barely able to slit open to face the light, consciousness comes back slowly.

And when it does, it hurts like hell. 

You lean over to block him from the scorching sunlight. When did the plains get so bright? And when did waking up feel like getting his head smashed beneath an AMP suit? The events of last night are still tucked in his memory, but it takes a moment for So’lek to recall the impact of them properly. And that last thing….the last thing he remembers is you snuggling up against his chest. 

“How long did-”

“No talking, just drink.” You advise, handing over a bowl of water sternly. Although slightly embarrassing, he’s grateful for the way you help him slowly sit up. It’s hard to get his wits about him when the world is still spinning. 

The cold water spears a painful path down his throat, but after several gulps it’s much easier to take in full breaths. The small hand gently placed on his shoulder is a surprising comfort. However, even in a foggy state, that simple touch immediately has him recalling what a true comfort it was to have you in his arms. 

No time in his right mind would he have acted on his impulses so carelessly. But last night he had felt entirely detached from time, even more so distant from the side of him that served to do the right thing. 

“I fear I owe you an apology.” Although your lips are quirked in a half smile, the comment has him stiff as a board. Here it is. The consequences of his actions. In no way did he have the right to act so intimately with a woman of a clan he does not belong to. And now you have finally come to realize that for yourself. “I did not warn you properly of Zeswa drink.” 

A sense of relief bubbles up so fast that So’lek lets a half laugh slip from his lips. It is graciously accepted with a beaming countenance that makes his heart race. 

“No it is fine, simply….different from what I have tried before.”

“Well if I knew you were such a lightweight I wouldn’t have suggested it.” You are never one to give up an opportunity to tease him. It is a routine that he has incidentally become quite fond of. Even more so now when there is a twinkle of sincere concern in your beautiful features. 

You care. It’s not the first time you have shown it and So’lek prays that it won’t be the last, but it seems time has only made the impact of this truth hit him that much harder each time. It flushes through like fire in his veins, far more addicting than the rush of Zeswa alcohol could ever be. 

“I have no regrets,” So’lek says, deep voice rich with sincerity. 

Fingers twiddling in your lap, there is a switch in your demeanor that is hard to ignore. Looking at him through thick lashes and grin barely held by teeth snagging your bottom lip, for the first time a sliver of shyness twinkles in your expression. Although, it is clear that your higher tolerance has afforded a much less dramatic hangover leaving him to look like a mess in comparison, it feels as if he has the upper hand for once. 

“Really? Even now that your head must want to split in two?” That radiant sunshine you hold has his already weakened composure splitting instead. His gravely chuckle intertwines with your own soft laugh and So’lek doesn’t even realize how close he has invaded your space until the next words leave his mouth.

“It was worth it. I wouldn’t trade last night for anything.” 

The severity of his own statement hits like a boulder. Both smiles drop and So’lek is left grappling with the fact that he has meant every word. 

Softened eyes peer straight through him, but these are not full of sympathy. There is no pity extended at now realizing how sad most of his nights must be. There is no squirming to find the right response or looking away with an uncomfortable grimace. 

No, you face him with that excitement that feels like he is bathing in the sun after years of wallowing in darkness. 

“I’m glad.” It’s a small whisper, very much unlike your usual robust calls. And just when So’lek’s eyes have wandered to watch the way your supple lips form those words, he finds that your stare has pinpointed on his own. Golden eyes dart back and forth between his parted lips and So’lek’s own stare. 

There is still that voice that cautions to pull back now. It’s the same voice that screams to curl up and escape your attention before it’s too late.

But you don’t hide. There is only honesty in your curious perusal. 

For once maybe he can find a way not to hide too. 

So’lek breaches the space between you, leaning forward slowly until there is only a whisper of wind between him and the kiss he has desired for weeks. Your noses almost touch. 

“Y/N! Where have you gone? You are needed.” A masculine voice calls from around the corner. There is no one else around the desolate fire where the two of you reside. You make no sign of responding to this call. If he veers forward there will still be enough time to capture what he has dreamed of before the two of you are found out. 

However, So’lek recognizes this voice. It belongs to the same man that had tried to glare a hole through him last night as the two of you danced and so it’s easy to deduce that this must be one of your awaiting sutors. 

A Zeswa male born and raised. A real viable prospect that So’lek is now on the edge of stealing you away from. This is exactly why he has stayed away. And yet all it has taken is one more night in your presence to lose every ounce of self control he has left. 

So’lek veers back. The look of quiet disappointment that crosses your face is enough to twist a knot in his stomach. 

The male rounds the tent, letting out an exasperated sigh upon spotting the two. “Ah there you are.”

“What is it?” You hiss, head snapping in his direction so fast that your hair flies over one shoulder. 

So’lek doesn’t need to look to feel the way this man’s eyes dart between the two of you. 

“Ke’ari is hurling his insides all over the healer’s tent.”

Soft features immediately pinch with irritation. 

“Aim him towards a vase then. He is one of many who are suffering from over indulgence. I am still treating So’lek. He needs food.”

“I have brought him some.” Of course he has. A deep loathing for the other male may already be forming but So’lek can’t ignore the craft of this suitor. He did not come unprepared. 

Hand running through your hair, you take a moment to look up at the sky and conjure the required patience. 

“Fine.” The male is unperturbed by your snipped response. He does, however, glower when your expression melts once facing So’lek once more. “Wait here. I will be right back.” 

It’s tempting to savor the longing in your voice, the way those honest eyes practically plead for him to stay. 

But it’s too late. So’lek regains the reins of his own heart and forces himself to flee at the first chance. The frowning male has no time to implement his intimidation tactics before So’lek is rising onto wobbly legs and searching to retrieve his gear. 

He slips that protective armor back on and leaves without taking a single bite. 

So’lek’s eyes burn from staring at the bright screen, hardly blinking while trying to decode the mess that is RDA rosters. Little progress is made as he stares down at the shining pad in hand and tries for the fifteenth time to pay attention. Perhaps it was a mistake not eating the offered meal this morning. Even if your eager suitor had poisoned it, he doubts dying from it would feel worse than the egregious hangover he suffers now.  

Leaning back against the table, So’lek’s eyes wander again without permission. Headquarters is unusually quiet today, a sign that the party they threw last night was successful enough to put many in the same state So’lek finds himself in the morning after. Priya and Anqa are up, however. Tucked into an alcove near the kitchen they seem to be under the impression that no one can see them here. 

Priya’s giggling echoes through the cave and Anqa only shushes her several times before diving back in for another kiss. Usually this is the part where So’lek’s face scrunches in disgust before he flees to a place he won’t be forced to witness such displays. Today that isn’t the case. In fact today, for reasons unbeknownst to him, So’lek can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the scene. 

“Suffering as well I see.” The voice startles him, almost enough to lose grip of the glowing pad in hand. Shuffling to avert his gaze from the two lovers and appear nonchalant, he looks over to find it is Ri’nela that approaches with an amused smile. “From the hangover.” She clarifies.

“Oh yes…you are unwell too?” The dark mark on his forehead pinches together when she comes to sit on the table beside him. Her new Na’vi attire is still as neat as ever but there is a drowsiness in her gaze similar to his own.

“You seem to forget that I was invited by the Zeswa too.” Although it doses So’lek with a tinge of guilt there is no ill will in her comment. However, it does leave his mind swirling to different concerns. If she was in fact at the party last night, how much of his interactions had she witnessed? More importantly, how much of it would she share? 

“My mind is….clouded this morning,” comes his lame response. Graciously Ri’nela simply gives a hum of understanding before turning towards the direction he was caught looking earlier. 

Priya and Anqa have moved on from swallowing each other’s tongues, but they remain lounged in a hanging chair together, Priya perched atop her lover’s lap as she yaps on and on about who knows what. Although Anqa is less animated in her responses, she listens intently. There is nothing but lovesick admiration in her eyes as she endures the endless jabbering, tucking her girlfriend’s purple hair behind her ear or drawing circles on her side occasionally. 

���It must be nice.” Ri’nela sighs softly, a wistful air to her tone. When So’lek turns to raise a hairless brow at her she motions to where Anqa and Priya. “Having something like that.”

“You envy the tawtute?” So’lek can’t mask how ridiculous he finds the notion. Ri’nela has always struck him as a reasonable Na’vi. Even one that shows great potential as a leader. What do tawtute have for her to be jealous of?

“Well aren’t you?”

So’lek’s nose scrunches. “No.” 

Despite the brunt response, Ri’nela is hardly put out. Her lips perk up slightly and she gives him a gentle look that one does when teaching a small child. “Are you saying you don’t want what they have? A partner? A mate?”

Calling Priya and Anqa mates feels wrong, like a bad taste on his tongue, but he can’t deny they must be something close. After all, they are committed to one another in similar fashion as one does their mate. They always have someone to run to.

“I have not thought about it.” If Ri’nela senses his lie, she doesn’t let it show.

“Hm well I have. It feels kind of impossible though considering our situation.” She sighs and it’s the first thing she has said in this conversation that immediately makes sense to him. Just like him, she is an outcast of sorts. There are only a few that survived in the Sarentu clan and all of them had been kept in with RDA like a lab experiment throughout their adolescence. 

“Difficult indeed.”

Ri’nela lets out a sad laugh, something painful shifting in her features. It sets So’lek on edge, already mentally preparing to navigate a situation where he is expected to comfort another. “Sometimes I think that even being a tawtute would be easier than this. They may live on an alien planet, but even those who have left the RDA have found each other and created this place together. Those two have found love here. This is their clan for all intents and purposes.”

So’lek has never thought of it that way. Do Sky People form clans the way Na’vi do? If so this clan is by far the most peculiar one he has ever seen. Then again, they do work as a team. Everyone comes together to maintain their lodging and when dangers comes knocking there are always a group of former RDA military tawtute ready to act like warriors. 

“We have nobody.” Ri’nela continues. “No clan, no place to call our own. Even our memories of the clan we once belonged to are hazy. This place is the closest thing we have to a refuge and even here no one can truly teach you what it means to follow your path in life.”

So’lek shrinks, fingers idly twiddling together. Of course things have not been easy for the Sarentu that escaped the TAP program but he didn’t know this is how she views the circumstances. 

“And mating…” Ri’nela sighs again, “Mating becomes all the more complicated when you have no clan to pull from.”

“I do not believe now is a good time to mate in general. What is the point when the RDA can easily take away such a bond?”

“Do you really believe that?” 

No, not really. If he had been asked a month ago, perhaps. Back then it had only seemed logical to avoid close ties when he is surrounded by death daily. It would be just another thing for the RDA to take from him. 

But now…now the words are sour on his tongue. 

Ri’nela has this quality about her that is hard to place a finger on. A certain calm vulnerability that somehow makes it difficult to lie to her. So instead of trying, So’lek simply shrugs. 

“I think that if I was lucky enough to find something even close to what they have, there is nothing that could keep me from it.” Ri’nela’s gazes with a sad fondness at Priya and Anqa. There is a longing glimmer to true there that it has his own stare pulled back to the couple. “Someone to weather this storm with. A person that knows you in a way unmatched by any other, and still they choose you. A bond that reminds you why life is so precious, makes it more than just surviving.” 

Is that what Anqa and Priya have? Something worth living for? On the surface it has always seemed like some gooey infatuation, a naive romance that he is forced to witness. But perhaps it is more than that. So’lek doesn’t often think about what life would be like as a tawtute, in fact he never does, but can imagine it not being the most comfortable of circumstances. They are not even able to breathe the Pandoran air around them without suffocating. Going back to their home planet is no good option either as it is already dead. 

So then maybe Ri’nela has a point. Priya and Anqa find happiness in their day to day affairs, affairs that include risking their lives to fight against their corrupt former employers, despite the harrowing circumstances. They always have a reason to smile, something to laugh at. And it’s just hitting him now that this reason is each other. 

“I’m sure you will find something like that, Ri’nela.” The hypocrisy burns So’lek’s throat. How can he claim to believe that when those rules don’t apply to himself? The survivors from the Sarentu clan are the people closest to having the same experience as his own. To have faith in Ri’nela finding a mate not himself goes against all logic. 

“Only time will tell.” Although still melancholy, Ri’nela sends him a sympathetic smile. She rises from the table and goes to make her exit. So nonchalant in her retreat as if she has not induced a spiral of thought for him to wind into. 

She pauses just before reaching the corner and turns to him again. “I know it is not any of my business, but you should know how lucky you are.”

So’lek’s heart drops to his stomach. 

“Don’t let her get away.” 

So’lek would prefer to blame Ri’nela for his inability to sleep that night. After all, she is the one that dropped a bomb on him with her speech about mating. Not to mention the only person in headquarters that has knowledge of his love life and the ability to make his feelings for you public domain. 

However, that would be dishonest. And at the end of the day he knows that tonight was always going to end this way. He has been trying to get his mind off of you for weeks, in fact every time he has returned from the Zeswa camp, and it has always been unsuccessful. And now the fact that two of you had almost shared a kiss only amplifies that obsession more. 

It was already hard enough to control his desires when he could believe that it was a one-sided longing. But now that he knows there is some interest on your side as well, fighting the demons in his head is borderline impossible. You knew he was going to kiss you. You knew and you not only were ready to let him but showed disappointment when he failed to do so. 

How is he ever supposed to resist now that he knows the object of his desires is at his fingertips? That there is a chance he can have you.

Perhaps not as a mate. It would be naive of him to assume his ever growing feelings for you are reciprocated in the same manner. But even knowing you desire him in a physical manner is enough to have him rolling over in the hammock and biting into the material. 

This is absolute madness. 

What is his plan? Avoiding the Zeswa clan forever can surely not be it. He can try to reduce the amount of time spent there but they are still allies so there will always be occasional visits required. Even then, does he really trust that distance will be enough to get rid of these feelings?

No, this is not a phase that will pass. 

And even if So’lek were to find a way of dealing with feelings without intervening in your courtings, what would that change? It would mean that another male comes along and makes you their mate eventually. And every day from then on he would be forced to face the fact that he is in love with a mated woman. He would have to witness that union every time he visits with indifference while everything within him would ache to rip this male’s throat out with his teeth. 

So’leks stuff a growl down his throat. Eywa above, what is wrong with him? Never before has he felt so connected to the primal beast inside of him. For years he has been a master of not only his emotions but impulses as well. But you’ve awakened something else within him. Something that has laid dormant for years and now refuses to go back to sleep. 

When he’s not echoing your perfect laugh in his head, he’s imagining the way you would groan his name. When he’s not recalling the silly story you told him earlier that day with a smile, he is crafting fantasies of his tongue lapping the sweet nectar between your legs. And when he is not pushing back every pulse of his heart that sings for you, he is grinding his teeth at the thought of another ever loving you the way he does, yearning for you the way does. 

Everything circles back to you. 

You have torn him apart from the inside out and the worst part is, he doubts you have any true inkling of this. At most, you understand there is a flirting atmosphere between you two. 

So where does that leave him? It seems there is only one option that has the potential to lead him away from years of insanity. However, that means facing exactly what he has avoided for weeks.

Telling you the truth. 

So’lek is a man. He can and will face rejection if necessary, although the idea of that somehow has his insides curling with dread. If it were only a matter of gaining the courage he would have unrooted his tail from between his legs and told you weeks ago. But that is not the main issue. 

The real danger is having those feelings reciprocated, because that would then mean being open to mating. That would mean letting all of his hard work to protect you go down the drain and instead take you selfishly for himself. And he hasn’t done that. He hasn’t done that because…well because he is not worthy of you. 

Then again, does that imply that your current suitors are the opposite? What do they possess that he does not?

They grew up in a clan, in your clan nonetheless. And So’lek didn’t. He has no clan. 

His conversation with Ri’nela bubbles up again. Does he truly believe that not having a clan means being subjected to a life without a mate? He would not wish that to be true for Ri’nela’s sake. Or Teylan’s. Or really any of the other Sarentu that are left. If she were to come to him in a similar situation, having found interest in someone within the Zeswa clan he would approve of her going after that connection. So why does he not approve of that for himself?

He does not have a deep understanding of his culture or know exactly what it means to have People of your own. And somehow that makes him unworthy of you. Because one day, a long time ago, the Sky People rained hellfire on his home and took away his clan.

Does that one instance mark him as damaged goods for the rest of his life?

If so, that seems to be a lot of power to put in the Sky People’s hands. It means that the Sky People not only took everything he had with such ease, but also everything he could ever gain for the rest of his life. And So’lek…So’lek is so damn tired of having things stolen from him. 

It is not fair for the RDA to steal you away from him too. If he is unworthy of you it is simply because of his shortcomings in character and light when compared to your vibrance. Not because of circumstances he did not choose. You are too good for him, So’lek can recognize that, however that does not mean he is not allowed to chase you like the others. 

Ri’nela prays to find someone to spend her life with, a mate she can call her own, and So’lek can no longer deny that he wants the same too. He does not want to simply survive anymore, he wants to thrive. But unlike Ri’nela, he is lucky enough to already understand who he wants that with. 

So he’s not willing to let you slip away. 

Not before he has given it everything he has first. 

It is only when So’lek hears one of the tawtute’s alarm go off that it becomes clear has had not slept a wink all night. And yet, So’lek has never been filled with so much energy. He dresses and grooms himself within record time, ignoring the puzzled looks that are sent his way. It seems that nothing matters besides getting to the Zeswa camp as fast as possible.

Wrestling his emotions all night has left him with a buzzing energy that threatens to make him explode. He needs to tell you and he needs to tell you now. Every second that this remains unresolved is another that has So’lek on edge. 

And so the trip to the upper plains has never felt longer. Although he makes the trek with incredible speed, his feet don’t take a second to adjust their stomping pace once he enters the camp. In fact, they only drum faster against the long grass as he hunts you down among the bustle. No thought is put into the expression he exhibits or body language, so So’lek doesn’t pay attention to the Na’vi that drive out of his way in fear.

There is nothing but cold steel determination laced with an anxiousness that overtakes him. 

Then there you are. Long hair blowing in the wind and basket in hand as you carefully weave the next row. So’lek’s lungs finally fill with air. Has it truly only been a day since he has seen you? How was he foolish enough to believe he could ever continue being around you without trying his hand at making you his? Heavy steps cross the space, almost on the brink of jogging to where you stand next to a tent. 

When your tails perk and eyes finally clock the impending advance of his tall frame, there is a surprised glimmer in your expression. Even a shot of excitement in those beautiful golden eyes that has all of So’lek’s restraint depleting. 

“So’lek, what are you doing here?”

He doesn’t answer with words. Instead he springs the last two steps into your space and immediately hunches to plant his lips against yours. His long fingers curl at the nape of your neck while his thumb caresses your cheek. Although your response is lagged from shock, it doesn’t take long for your lips to meld with his in perfect unison. 

So’lek gives everything to that kiss. Every night that he has laid awake thinking about you. Every sputter that his heart has wrenched from your laughter as he has fallen off a pa’li over and over. Every ounce of desire that rushes through him like a river bashing against a dam ready to break. 

Deepening the kiss, he refrains, however, from letting it get too vulgar. If he lets that primal creature inside of him lose now, he’ll take you right here and now before talking anything through. It’s difficult to remember this, however. Technically his plan was to speak to you then take his shot at a kiss but So’lek can find room for regret when you taste like everything sweet he has been missing for years. You are just as soft as he imagined. Even more addicting than he could have envisioned. 

When So’lek breaks away your lips are already a pretty shade of pink, parted to release heavy breaths. Those golden eyes are now only a sliver of color as your pupils have dilated and eyes widened in disbelief. 

“I should have done that yesterday.” That truth gives little explanation, but it’s the only words he manages to get out without sticking his tongue down your throat. 

Your chest heaves and features morph into a delighted shock. Seeing you like this is more satisfying than he could put into words. You’ve always been the outspoken one between the two of you, but now it is him that renders you speechless. 

So’lek almost goes in for another kiss before the weight of several gazes finally register. Turning over his shoulder he finds that you are not alone in weaving your basket. In fact there is a group of Na’vi sitting on the ground holding their own materials, watching with wide eyes and dropped jaws. It hits him then. You aren’t just sitting here working on your own basket. You are in the middle of teaching a class. 

A class he has so dramatically disrupted. 

“I apologize for the interruption.” And he should be, he really should be but So’lek doesn’t even believe his own words at this point. He stalks off simply out of respect for the class and the chance to remember how to behave in public. 

It won’t matter though, not when he can feel the prickle of your wide-eyed gaze along his back. 

So’lek lingers just outside of camp in an alcove of blood leaf trees. It’s just enough space for him to catch his breath, try to clear his head as he waits for your class to finish. Palms spread along the bark in front of him. So’lek drops his head between his outstretched arms and focuses on inhaling and exhaling. The exercise is borderline pointless when each inhale only sparks attention to your taste lingering on his tongue. 

Never before would he consider himself this impulsive or irrational but even now that he has made a spectacle in front of everybody, So’lek fights the urge to turn around and do it all over again. He barely resists the aching need to stomp back into camp, throw you over his shoulder and carry you into the woods where he can finally have his way with you. 

So’lek spins on his heel, leaning against the tree with his head thrown backwards now. This is insanity. 

His nostrils flare the second there is a trace of your essence in the wind. So’lek almost wishes he wouldn’t have looked because now he is sucked in by the way your breasts bounce as you jog from the camp towards him. 

Great Mother above, how is going to have a conversation with you while in this state?

Luckily, or perhaps not so lucky, you are in no mood for conversation either. So’lek doesn’t get out a simple hello before you are bounding into his chest and pulling him down for another kiss. This time there are no boundaries keeping the kiss from turning absolutely filthy. That devious tongue swirls around his own until So’lek is capturing your bottom lip between his teeth in retribution. 

Fuck, you are so much trouble. 

“Wait…mh...wait.” You don’t afford him the space for speaking so So’lek eventually catches your upper arms in a firm grip and establishes some distance. “Wait for one moment.”

“No, I’m sick of waiting.” Voice teetering on a whine, you brush off the hold and capture his lips back to yours. So’lek feels like he is being torn in two. It’s important to talk things through, make sure that you understand just how deep his feelings are, but with the way his tewng struggles to keep his hard cock trapped, it is only a matter of time before instincts overcome logic. 

So you leave him with no choice. 

With one graceful swoop he has you manhandled back against the tree, arms planted on either side of your head to keep you bracketed there. “You need to listen.” So’lek seethes and it comes out far angrier than he intended. 

In spite of that, your eyes take on a new sparkle. Those beautifully swollen lips part and soft features morph into a dazed shock just as they had done after that first kiss. Except this time, the aroma of arousal thickens.

Fuck, you’re into this. You like the way he has wrestled you into place. You like how he towers over you now and demands to be heard. Perhaps it is the only reason your protests have immediately stopped. He needs to get this off of his chest before the ability to make full sentences leave him entirely.

So So’lek blurts it all out in a heated rush. 

“I did not come here to fool around once. That is not what this is. I am here because it is physically impossible for me to stay away. There is not an hour that goes by where I don’t long to be with you, even in your presence if that is what I can get. I have no clan. I don’t know the customs of your people and I often have a disposition that makes people want to run away rather than draw near. I am not like your other suitors, I do not offer the same things. All of this I know and have tried to respect but it seems no iron will I construct is strong enough to keep me from wanting you all the same.” 

You don’t dare to blink and disconnect his gaze from yours. 

“And want you I do, paskalin. But not just once, not just in a way that satisfies our bodies alone. I yearn to have every part of you that can be offered.” One step closer and So’lek’s can practically feel the drumming of your rampant heart against his chest. “So if this is not what you want, then you need to tell me now. Because I know that once we cross this threshold, once I get one more taste of you there will be no going back for me. You will have my heart until my dying breath.” 

Winds whips against his back. Second feel like years as dainty hands wind up his arms and clasp at the nape of his neck. 

“Maybe if you weren’t so stubborn, So’lek, you would already know that I have been yours since the moment we met.” 

The next connection of lips is softer, far more patient than the ravaging before. It allows So’lek to fall into your confession properly, to let it settle into his head and heart that this is real. That you are truly sunk into his embrace, candy on his lips, and heart open for him entirely. 

So’lek pours every fiber of gratitude into this kiss. He winds his love into the tender brush of his fingers across your cheek. His tail curves around your thigh with the solemn promise to protect you until his heart stops beating. And you breathe in every silent promise he makes with one of your own. 

Your long lashes tickle his cheeks and small hands rooted in his hair causes So’lek’s knees to weaken. 

This tender moment can only last so long, however. That deep seated fire has not been forgotten and with every second the two of you remain entangled, the hotter it burns. That shift is prevalent in the way you go from running nails over his scalp to tugging on the long locks to pull him closer. So’lek’s own hands go from tender exploration to greedy groping down your hips and backside. 

A part of him would question the harshness and vulgarity of his actions were it not for the way you now moan into his mouth. You take every crude touch delivered and beg for more in the same breath. 

So’lek only departs from your lips to finally slot his face into the crook of your neck. Nose running along a vein of your throat, he is free to drown in the place where your aroma is most potent. But it’s not enough to breathe you in, not even sufficient to simply witness the way his scent now intertwines with yours. He must taste it, must run his tongue over every inch of perfectly delicious skin like he has dreamed of for weeks. 

The flat of his tongue draws over from your collarbone to the edge of your jaw. You don’t hide your sound of delight, nor the obvious push of your pelvis to find his own. Bruising kisses turn into sucking deep marks at the vulnerable skin. So’lek only pauses when you manage to crane your head down and capture one of his ears carefully between sharp teeth. The tip of your tongue follows a smooth path at the shell of his ear. It taunts a deep rumble from his chest. 

Pulling back, So’lek hardly gets a chance to witness your pleased smirk before he is caught in another kiss. Unlike the first day in the healer’s tent when you had been hesitant to touch his chest guard, you now use it as your personal leash to bring him closer. Those small hands dig into the tough material and yank without reserve. 

Not that it’s needed. So’lek would gladly crawl at your feet if it means getting to devour you once more. 

However, it quickly becomes not enough. His mouth salivates at the idea of tasting another sweet part he has been dreaming of. You give no struggle when his hand hitches behind your knee, allowing him to curve that long leg around his waist and press your pelvises together. It takes bending his own knees to account for the height difference but it’s worth all of the hassle when feeling the heat that literally radiates through your tewng. 

So’lek suddenly becomes all too aware of how overdressed he is in comparison. That sentiment must be shared because your eyes dance with excitement when he is haphazardly shucking off the chest guards and gear attached. Your own chest piece does little to hide those perfectly shaped breasts, one nipple managing to slip out from under a feather, and even more so does not hide that now red hue over the area. It seems that all your grinding against him, has consequently rutted your chest over his radio and other hard gear. 

Perhaps he should feel bad but all So’lek can think about instead is whether or not his teeth and tongue could exhibit a similar reaction along your perfect breasts. Is the other nipple as hard as the one that has slipped out? 

It’s as if you can read his mind, or rather notice where his gaze has lowered to have him drooling, because without a single prompting you are undoing the clasp and letting the delicate top fall away. 

So’lek would judge any other male for acting the way he does now. So easily reduced to a mouth breathing imbecile just from a natural part of female anatomy. But perhaps he simply didn’t get it until now. Staring at those beautifully pointed nipples and curved breasts the perfect size for his hands, he thinks he may just now understand why a sight like that never gets old. At least, not when it’s yours. 

You grasp the hand not holding your leg, confidently guiding his palm to rest over the right breast. So’lek requires no further invitation. He squeezes and savors the squishy weight in his hand, drawing his thumb over that perky nipple that is begging to be sucked. Delight spikes his blood pressure when he witnesses how his calloused fingertips tighten the bud. 

“So’lek please! I’m not fragile.” 

His name has never sounded so beautiful. Those wicked eyes ensnare him without an ounce of bashfulness. Caught between two temptations So’lek eventually drops your leg in favor of using both hands to explore this new uncovered skin. 

The first time he pinches one nipple between his fingertips and tugs it brings on a sound from your throat so sudden and lewd it makes his cock twitch in its confines. 

“Harder.”

So’lek’s pupils dilate. What a little pain slut you’ve turned out to be and from the blissed expression you wear now, there is not an ounce of you that is ashamed of it. Nor should you be. Every new discovery is a gift So’lek delights in unwrapping. 

“Always so demanding, paskalin.” Voice gravelly and thick with lust, So’lek bends down further until his lips are skating over the swell of your breasts. 

“I’m actually quite a patient person.” Even with labored breath your quip doesn’t lose its whip. 

“Is that so?” It is by no means playing fair, but So’lek latches his lips around your left nipple before letting you respond. He rolls the raised flesh between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to capture the peak and pull it back. 

You have a handful of braids gathered in your grip tightly but they don’t stop the retreat of his head. You let out a guttural groan, rising onto your toes as if to enhance the sharp sting. And still, your determination to get out a response does not falter. 

“I’ve waited for you this long, haven’t I? Agh Eywa mm…flirted with you for weeks waiting for you to take the bait.” 

So’lek switches to the other side, snapping his teeth around the raised bud before muttering, “You poor thing.” 

“Mock me all you want but you’re cruel for making me wait.” A gasp bubbles up your throat when he pinches the disregarded nipple while the other is nipped by his teeth. “A woman has needs, So’lek.” 

Those words have his ears perking in interest, even lapping at the abused flesh so you have a better chance at finishing that thought. 

“Thinking of you with my hand between my thighs is only good for so long before I start wanting the real thing.”

A string of saliva still connecting your nipple to his lips, So’lek pulls back to look up at you. “Is that what you do, paskalin? Touch yourself while you dream about me?” 

Then with zero hesitation, “I was three fingers deep inside myself this morning while I pondered what your cock would feel like down my throat.” 

Static fills his head, the only sound bouncing in his skull is your unabashed confession. This morning. You had been touching yourself to the thought of him this morning. Meaning while he was buzzing with adrenaline, thoughts wild and uncontained at the thought of what if, as he made the trek to the Zeswa camp, you were exploring the parts of yourself he had been dreaming of for weeks while conjuring dirty fantasies of him. So’lek had been spiraling and questioning all of his desires with no knowledge that you were already his for the taking.

And that’s what it has been. Weeks and weeks of him dreaming and wishing and overthinking while you waited patiently for him to untuck his tail and do something about it. How long has he gone on torturing himself while you’ve been right here?

Too long. 

Way too fucking long.

But now, he is determined to make up for every second of lost time. 

“You are trouble.” Voice rough with a rumbling depth, you are unbothered by his change in inflection. 

“I’m just being honest.” You shrug, lips tempted into a crooked smirk. “Don’t ask the question if you can’t handle the answer.” 

Your confident snip simultaneously delights and taunts him. It tugs at the part of him that no longer wants to be gentle or conscientious. You are coaxing out the beast in him that is nothing but teeth, and from your self satisfied smirk it’s clear you know it too. 

So’lek rises back to his full height, dragging his muscular form along your sweet curves until his impressive frame is molded against your own. When you crane your neck to look at him he witnesses your dilated pupils even beneath the shadow that he has cast over you. It’s So’lek’s hand now that roots into your hair, yanking you forward into a demanding kiss. 

He gives no room for air, slotting his nose along yours and devouring you with vengeance. So’lek has to hold back a vicious smirk at the moan you release once he begins sucking on your tongue. Dulls nails dig into his waist, clawing to bring him impossibly closer. They seek to draw blood in retaliation when he finally breaks the kiss. 

“You are not the only one who has been waiting for a taste, paskalin.” 

You grin and lean forward, interpreting that as another filthy kiss coming your way. However, it is not your lips that he speaks of now. Or at least, not those lips. Your tail whips in surprise when large hands begin undoing the string around it. So’lek tugs and digs at those knots without preamble, watching your pretty face as you realize where this is heading. 

Once the offensive garment is ripped away he drops to his knees. His nostrils flare, greedily taking in your thick essence but it's not enough. So’lek roughly yanks one of your legs over his shoulder and his ears twitch to catch your pretty gasp. Now teetering on one leg while the other is curved over his broad shoulder, you are perfectly laid out for him. 

So’lek barely has enough time to appreciate the view before his instincts demand a taste. Intricate stripes along your inner thighs and navel create an alluring path to the treasure between your legs. So’lek runs the tip of his nose along one stripe of your thigh before stopping less than an inch from your soaked cunt. 

Eywa above, his vivid imagination could never compare to the beauty that lies before him now! 

Your needy clit is already engorged, a pretty pearl that begs to be played with. He uses his thumbs to part your lips and get an unobstructed view. Hot breath tickles your sensitive core causing your now displayed entrance to flutter. Watching the way your pussy grasps at nothing has So’lek caught between wanting to drown himself in your juices or fill you with his aching cock. 

“So’lek, you are such a fucking tease I-”

The end of that complaint is strangled into a whine when his lips close around your clit. A small hand pushes at the back of his head. As if he would need the encouragement. So’lek smothers himself in your warmth. Nose slotted between your lips his tongue runs up the sensitive cut of you, collecting every ounce of sticky arousal it can find. The tip of his tongue then circles around that pulsing bud until your clitoral hood is pushed back and he can attack the nerve dead on. 

That action conjures a violent reaction. Hips buck back at him hard enough to have your one supporting leg struggling to remain planted. So’lek takes that as his cue to take pity on you. He slinks the other leg over his shoulder and wraps his arms around your thighs to support the weight. This way he has full control of wrangling your soaked cunt to his lips while you no longer have to focus on standing. 

“Oh Eywa! More…more So’lek…I need more.” Although your voice has flitted into desperate gasps, it loses none of its conviction. 

Your demands push him further, his tongue now spearing into your pussy with a desire to explore. Fuck, even around his tongue you are tight as a vise. So’lek rises to his feet, keeping you sat on his shoulders as your back glides along the tree trunk. If you have a fear of heights it is not voiced as you are pinned against the trunk and ravaged. 

“Right there! Right there! Ah yes! Right-”

That constantly babbling has never been more beautiful than now. His tongue curves to hit that oh so special spot that has your thighs shaking around his head. So’lek’s nails dig into your ass to spread you wider as your own viciously claws into his scalp. 

With the perfect combination of his tongue fucking up into you and his nose rutting along your clit, your first orgasm comes in no time. So’lek drinks up every last drop selfishly. He considers it a reward after all of this time he’s behaved, been patient and tried to get you out of his head. Now that you’ve broken his resolve, it’s only fair that you give him everything that you have. That he collects what belongs to him. 

When So’lek finally peels away, he finds you catching your breath while one hand grips a tree branch above. He’s caught staring but even with a flushed hue over your cheeks, you simply let out a breathy laugh in a daze. Your legs are shaking as he lowers you back onto your feet but that isn’t enough to deter you. 

Half of his face coated in your essence, So’lek graciously obeys the hands that yank him down for another kiss. It seems right that you get to taste how delicious you are too. His big hands wrap around either side of your neck, angling your face upwards and deeper into the kiss. 

Meanwhile, it seems that even in the afterglow of a climax, you can’t refrain from being a minx. Confident hands map the territory of his slim hips and v line before one sneaks back to grab his ass. His dark chuckle is passed between his lips to yours as you hold back a devious smirk. 

“Your turn.” You demand, tugging at the waistband of his loincloth with the patience of a child waiting to unwrap a present. The motion only increases the ache in his groin, somewhat surprised that the piece of fabric has managed to contain his boner. 

So’lek practically jumps out of his skin when you slip past the waistband. His left hand slams against the tree trunk as he groans when you wrap around his base, thumb running up a thick vein. The fire in his eyes matches your own. This is a game of tug a war. Weeks of yearning and dreaming have left both of you utterly insatiable. Matched in intensity, you too are determined to take everything your desired mate has to offer. 

And So’lek is going to deliver it to you on a silver platter. 

That is, after he gets his own chunk of flesh. 

Hastily undoing the string of his tewng, So’lek slots his face into your neck as you start a slow but firm pace stroking him. It is borderline torture, the way you already know how to apply the perfect amount of pressure at the right places while still having your fun sweeping a thumb over his head to collect the precum there. A sweat breaks out along his forehead. He finds himself wishing for a hair tie to wrangle his now messy braids out of the way as he holds back from exploding all over your stomach. 

“You’re so pretty.” You marvel, aroused scent intermingling with his own as you stare down with blown out pupils. Fuck, you are going to kill him if you keep looking at him like that. It’s no wonder his feral instincts have taken over. When yours are already unleashed it’s impossible to hold back. He was a fool for ever thinking he could escape your taunting. 

“No,” So’lek nearly barks when you try to sink down onto your knees. He quickly wraps a firm hand around your bicep to urge you back up. Those plump lips part, no doubt preparing to protest, perhaps say something about how unfair he’s been for once again making you wait. So’lek cuts in before you get the chance. “I need to be inside you. Now.” 

It’s impossible to keep back the rugged timber that takes over his words. Even more so impossible to hide the desperation that fills him to the brim. As much as he is overtaken by the thought of your talented mouth wrapped around him, he knows there is no way he will be able to hold himself back from coming then. And when he reaches that high for the first time with you, So’lek wants nothing more than to be buried deep inside of you, feeling the way you unravel around him. 

But his body is already far too close to the edge. A heat coils in his abdomen and every touch you deposit has his tip leaking more sticky precum. This needs to happen now before he loses it prematurely. 

Luckily, your attitude appears to be put into check by his words. All signs of disappointment quickly shift into a raw fervor, hands grabbing for his shoulders. So’lek takes the cue in stride, hoisting your knee up to his hip and positioning himself at your entrance. 

And then he hesitates. 

So’lek is not small by any means and he has not properly prepared you for him. 

“Oh Eywa,” You groan, “I stretched myself out this morning, So’lek just…please!” 

That whine and pinched expression is borderline distressed and therefore all the encouragement he requires to slink forward. You’re his mate and as you’ve said, a woman has needs. From here on out he is going to be the sole provider for every single one of yours. 

It takes a hand to your hip in order to keep control of his pace sinking inside. So’lek’s hairless brows furrow and muzzle wrinkles at the difficulty required to keep himself from plunging inside with one thrust. Sweet sounds wracking your throat, you provide no help as your hips keep trying to slant forward. At this point there is going to be an imprint of his fingers from where they press into your hip. 

So’lek lets out a harsh breath. 

Stars above, that thought has the potential to send him down a very dark hole. Just thinking about all the ways and places he can mark you has his ball drawing up against his body. 

When he is finally seated all the way inside, pelvis flush against your own, both of you take a moment to breathe. Panted air tickles his chest from where you have your forehead slants against his collarbone. His own nose buries into that luscious hair that he has admired flying in the wind for weeks. 

So’lek’s tail wraps around your planted leg and it’s then that he feels the way you are on the verge of collapsing. Hooking an arm underneath that knee he swipes it to his waist. The new angle makes both of you groan but you are quick to lock both ankles at the base of his spine and cling for dear life. 

This moment is sacred. 

The first of many times that he can feel what it means to be intimately intertwined with you in a way only inferior to making tsaheylu. So much distance he has kept between the two of you only to now gorge himself in a closeness beyond anything he has ever experienced. And someday, someday very soon, it will be even more. Once he has courted you properly, showered you with the love and attention has wanted to give you from the very beginning, the two of you will make the bond. 

A permanent entanglement that he will cherish until the end of his days. 

“So’lek,” You whisper. Nothing but his name against his chest until your right hand is reaching up to brush his cheek. He nuzzles into your palm without thought before ducking down until your cheek is sliding against his own. It’s in this primal act of scenting that his hips finally begin to move. 

Long languid thrusts that have you shuddering against him while his teeth bite into his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. In this state you are an open book. Every spike of your pleasure is indicated by the way you squeeze his cock, or dig your nails into his shoulder blades, or even nips at his pulse point. There is nothing demure about your exploration. 

As his pace picks up, now figuring out where that sweet spot is to torment, your soft hands are mapping every inch of him they can reach. His neck, his shoulders, every rigid line of his abdomen. When one hand reaches to squeeze his muscular bicep his tail coils. 

You are matched in desire perfectly, a fact that threatens to coax him into spilling inside of you instantly. So’lek has to grit his teeth to hold back even as your lips find his own again. This kiss is a mess of saliva and haphazard coordination as the increased speed of his thrusts have you jackhammering up the tree trunk. It doesn’t matter. 

All So’lek can focus is your sweet sounds and how eagerly your body welcomes him in. 

“Paskalin,” He groans, barely managing to tear away from your lips. “You are everything.” 

He witnesses the way those words sink in, how long it takes for them to settle before you are able to smile back at him in your disheveled state. This smile is unique from the many others he has seen you wear. It is one not meant for the public eye, a rare form that one can only be seen in an intimate setting like this. A smile that now only shines for him. 

A burst of adrenaline courses through his veins. Tired muscles renew tenfold, cock driving up into you now with uncontained zeal. This burst of energy has him entirely distracted so when a foreign touch suddenly scrapes his kuru, So’lek just about buckles and takes you both to the ground. 

With a hiss he rights himself and pushes you harder against the tree. Nails glide over his protective braid with a featherlight pressure before sweeping over his shoulder and getting dangerously close to the exposed tendrils. 

So’lek’s jaw clamps hard enough to make his teeth ache. 

“Don’t do that, tanhi [star]. You’re going to make me come.” 

“My thoughts exactly.” That devious hitch in your voice cracks when he sends a harsh thrust in reprimanding. 

“I mean it.” He grits. 

“So do I.” Baby hairs plastered to your damp forehead, you stare him down with a renewed fervor. “I want all of you, So’lek. Everything.” 

The dancing tendrils of his kuru are dragged along your shoulder teasingly. His vision zeroes in on the sight, muscles of his abdomen tightening. Your forehead tips against his own, lashes almost kissing his cheek. 

“Please don’t make me beg,” you whisper. 

It’s intentional, the way your pussy clamps around him in a vice like grip as those words leave your lips. So’lek can no longer remember why he was trying to draw this out as he rickets his hips upwards and gets lost in the feeling of his kuru tendrils wrapping around one of your fingers. 

Whatever composure you had temporarily regained becomes frazzled once more as the head of his cock knocks at your sweet spot over and over again with overwhelming accuracy. Your cries muddle together just as your orgasm comes to line up with his. 

So’lek has felt no greater relief than releasing himself deep inside of tight heat. Stars dot his vision while you milk him for all that he is worth, panting against his neck. His kuru is dropped and So’lek’s knees wobble, for the first time finding difficulty in holding both of your weight. 

He becomes a statue following that high. His brain rings with the same dead sound the computers at headquarters make. You are no better off, clinging to him for dear life as your breasts push against him with every rushed exhale. The first movement is your arms cinching tighter around his neck. A strangely innocent and endearing hug considering the lewd entanglement the two of you maintain. 

Gently, So’lek slips out and guides you back onto your feet. He has to scramble when your knees immediately buckle. Swiping his arms beneath your own, he coaxes you to lean your weight on him. 

“Are you alright?” His worried tone is in direct contrast to the breathy laugh you give. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You giggle, clinging to his shoulders. “They’ll work again…eventually.” 

Your eyes crinkle in the same way they do when watching him fall off of a pa’li. So’lek’s lips curve into their own grin. His lips are still stretched wide when he plants tender kisses to your hairline. 

“You smell good,” You hum.

So’lek chuckles fondly before noticing the combined spend that trails down your inner thighs. He has nothing but his gear with him out here in the fields. The only fabric he carries is a small bundle of bandages but he used up the last of it a few days ago. His lips turn down. He will need to be more prepared than this now that he has a mate to look after. 

“Paskalin, let me find something to clean you up with.” 

“No no shhh,” You reach up and place a finger against his lips. “Stop thinking for one second and hold me.” 

So’lek’s heart twists at your little antics, silently obeying your request, shifting both of you to lay on the long grass. Sweaty limbs tangle together, your smaller form messily sprawled across him until your hair is twisted over his abdomen. So’lek slings and arm over your back to cradle you closer. 

This is always the part he has missed. Various partners over the years and yet not one of them holding the tender affection that radiates between the two of you now. The chance to just hold and bask in the other’s presence. Little touches that speak volumes louder than he ever could. So’lek is not good with words. He never says the right thing or in the right way. 

But he can do this. He can drench the sweet brush of his fingertips over your skin with the weight of every confession he has ever been tempted to give you. He can radiate the deep love that blossoms in his chest with every soft kiss to your hairline and swipe of his thumb over your cheek. And he can feel the same devotion reciprocated every time you snuggle further into his chest or trace lines over his abdomen. 

Before long your tail whips out to jest with his curious fingers. He swipes over the thin appendage, watching the way it flickers and circles around his wrist before letting go. The tuft of hair at the end tickles his forearm as it playfully taunts and bats away from his touch. This little game is more amusing than he cares to admit. 

A muffled giggle against his chest tells him that his fixation is not concealed. However, for the first time in weeks he’s allowed to not care. There is no lingering regret at showing his cards to you or betraying his emotions to be analyzed. With you he gets to let that mask fall away, allowing you to see a part of him so vulnerable that So’lek thought it had died off years ago. 

“I will be ready again in about ten minutes.” You state, smiling while tracing the veins of his left arm. The insinuation and expectation is clear and it shakes a surprised laugh from his lungs. 

“And if I am not, paskalin?” So’leks goads with a smirk.

You shift onto your stomach, chin resting atop his chest so that you can look at him directly now. Your tail lashes behind you as you smirk up at him. “Then you better find a way to be.” 

So’lek lets out a low chuckle, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Your smile, however, falters when you notice something. Legs still shaky and weak, you try to climb up his chest to get a better look. He’s unsure what you are getting at but So’lek doesn’t hesitate in cinching a hand behind your knee and using that grip to slide you upwards. 

Hairless brows furrowed and bottom lip on the verge of jutting into a pout, one dainty finger runs over the skin beneath his eyes. It is only then he realizes that he must have dark circles beneath his eyes from not sleeping last night. 

“You did not sleep.” 

It truly is of little importance but watching how genuinely concerned you are by it may just be the most endearing thing he has ever witnessed. It reminds him of the day you met. The first time was subjected to your insistent care as he writhed and tried to assure you he was fine. If only back then he knew what he knows now. You always take care of him, of anyone and everyone in your vicinity. 

No matter what front he has put up. Regardless of every effort he has made to convince you and himself that he does not need this, it has never been a match for you. You who not only sees through his walls but knocks them down with that infectious grin. The Great Mother has blessed him with the only woman stubborn enough to break him the way he truly needed. 

“I was up thinking.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes. “Of course you were. What am I going to do with you?” You give him a reprimanding glare but fondness seeps into your beautiful features before you are scooting upwards again. 

So’lek expects a kiss, lashes already flutter over his cheeks in anticipation but then those lips are not touching his. Instead a delicate kiss is placed over each eyelid, as if to kiss the sleep deprivation away. 

When So’lek opens his eyes you are already shuffling to tuck your face against his neck nonchalantly as if you have not made his heart overflow with one simple move. 

This is what Ri’nela had been talking about. Not just surviving but thriving. Have a place to call home, or perhaps in his case someone. For years his sole drive in life has been to repay the RDA for the tragedies they have rained on Pandora, on his clan. That has been his purpose. There has always been something to fight for. 

But for the first time in years he now has someone to fight for as well.  

Please don't hesitate to share your thoughts! I spent way too much time obsessing over this so getting some feedback/interaction would mean the world to me<3

"Taglist" AKA peeps I thought might like this: @pandoraslxna @tallulah477 @eywaite

[kaileyrose28]

Popped Cherry (part 2)

Note.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ.ᐟ: Good Girl is about an semi-established relationship between Jason and FMC. She's Roy's 18-year-old daughter, Jason is Roy's 38-year-old best friend, she's just the prettiest thing he's ever seen and it's hard to keep his mind when she's around. She's just such a good girl.

18+ (I have to say this), this has sexual content, like seriously.

Kinks or fetishes: Age kink, innocence, dom/sub variables, corruption, slight exhibitionism, dirty talking, experienced man/inexperienced girl, female virgin taking, perv Jason, gentle sex until the very end, big dick/little pussy, unprotected p in v but on birth control (wrap it anyway)

3,827 words. Female focused sex, female oriented pronouns when your talked about by others.

Read Part 1 before reading this, context is somewhat important.

By the time night rolls around you’re busying yourself in your room with preparing everything.

You’ve got candles lit on your desk and dresser, because yes you’re one of those people and it also means they can keep the light off to avoid suspicion. Your bed has a towel on the sheets so you don't stain or wet anything during... everything.

That poses too much risk tomorrow morning when you need to clean. How're you meant to explain away a large wet stain, or possibly off-colored stains on your sheets? You don't even want to try.

You lay down on your bed, bottom half on top of the towel, you’re wearing a nightgown with no panties on beneath, like he requested, and now all you have to do is wait.

Fiddling with the collar of your nightgown as you do, the little bows ribbon strings soft on your fingertips.

Meanwhile downstairs, Jason's nursing a beer, trying to act normal around Roy. He has no clue that Jason's about to defile his little girl upstairs—some part of him feels gross about it, and bad. But the other part, the perverted half, is thrilled about it.

He throws back the rest of his beer, his dick twitching in his pants. "Night." He calls out to Roy, receiving a 'night' in return from him. He makes his way up to your room, heart pounding in his chest.

When he reaches your door, which he only knows is yours because you painted shit on it—flowers, hearts, the like—raising his hand, he knocks softly on your door.

When you hear the soft knock at your door, you pause for a second, determining who it is knocking. Usually your dad would throw a goodnight right after for you, when it's silence you know it's Jason that's outside your bedroom door.

You shift around for a second, finding a good position on your bed, atop the towel beneath your hips, before trying to look casual.

"Come in." You say just loud enough to be heard but not any louder. You’re nervous but not as much as you thought you would be.

Jason twists the handle slowly, pushing the door open just enough to slide his big body through. He takes you in instantly—spread out on the bed like a damn buffet, tits pushing against your silk nightgown, hair spread out like a halo. His dick tents his pants. 

"Jesus."

His first response to seeing you after slipping into your room makes your lips twitch with a smile, slightly amused. You didn't have many nightgowns that screamed 'hey I'm sexy' aside from this one, but even this one was a bit simple.

Nothing like some woman your age would wear to look sexy and hot, but whatever it works.

You shift slightly to sit up against your pillows more, making sure the towel beneath you doesn't shift. "Hi," you mutter softly, albeit a little nervously. Only just a little bit.

"You okay?" He asks softly, watching you carefully. You look nervous but not scared, your nightgown doing little to hide your body. "Do you still want this?" He adds, unbuttoning the top of his shirt slowly. He doesn't want to pressure you into anything.

His soft questions don't register at first, him slowly unbuttoning his shirt is quite distracting. You watch his fingers pull buttons free for a minute before looking up at his face when you register he's asked something.

His concern is sweet, and definitely appreciated.

You nod a little, lying back against your pillows slightly. "I'm okay and I still want this, I promise." You say softly, giving another small nod even if your words are enough.

You’re excited even if you're nervous, you want this.

You really want this.

He exhales slowly, relieved. Crossing the room in three long strides, he looms over your bed. "Fuck, you're cute." He grunts, reaching out to stroke your cheek. His other hand finishes unbuttoning his shirt fully, shrugging it off to bare his tattooed torso.

You lean into his stroking touch on your cheek, eyes dropping to his tattooed torso when his shirt's shrugged off. Some tattoos are cut through with old scars.

"Scoot back on the bed." He murmurs, his eyes locked with yours. "On your pillows."

Your eyes move back up to his when he murmurs directions for you, you plant your hands on your bed and scoot back more for him. You lift your hips to pull the towel beneath you up as well. Letting it sit beneath your hips again.

You don't want to be on your pillows because you'd rather keep things clean of bodily fluids as best you can. For obvious reasons.

He notices the towel but doesn't mention it, finding it actually kind of hot that you’ve thought this through. He kicks off his shoes, then unbuckles his belt slowly, maintaining eye contact with you the whole time. "Comfortable?"

You watch him slowly get undressed in front of you, his hands undoing his belt with slow movements like he wants you to see everything. Whether it's so you don't get nervous or not, you’re not sure.

You look up at him again when he speaks, his question making you smile slightly. "Yeah." You murmur softly, nodding a little. You almost feel like you’re dreaming, that he's not actually here about to pop your cherry.

But he is and you’re excited and nervous.

It's risqué and maybe stupid, he's older by two decades and your dad's best friend, but you want him regardless.

He lets out a soft sigh, pleased that you’re comfortable. He stands up, letting his jeans and boxers drop to the floor before kicking them aside. His dick is already hard and straining, precum leaking from the tip. He crawls onto the bed, settling between your spread legs.

You inhale deeply when he's nude before you, eyes roaming down his body. His dick is big like you figured it would be, he's big so of course it would be, but holy shit.

That's supposed to go in you.

You’re not so sure it would fit.

You lean up slightly when he settles between your thighs, fluid leaking from his dicks head, you nervously pull your nightgown off. You’ve never actually been naked in front of anyone.

You lay back down after dropping it off the side of the bed, trying not to focus on it as you settle down flat. 

Well, fuck him, you’re gorgeous. Every inch of your skin is dusted with those fucking adorable freckles, your tits are perfect, capped with rosy nipples that are hardening under his gaze. 

He settles his hips between your thighs, his cock throbbing against your mound. "Christ,"

His roaming eyes on your body make you nervous, the way he's taking you in. You can see the dilation in his eyes, and it's all it takes for you to feel more comfortable—he's attracted to you.

When you feel his cock settle against your mound you jump a little, a bit startled because of you focusing on his face. You look down, his thick and long dick looks like it'd never fit but you’re the virgin here, he's older and experienced and probably knows what works.

But still, Jesus. The thing's a monster.

He reaches down, spreading your thighs further apart to give himself better access. "You're so fucking tiny." He mutters, staring at your virgin pussy. It's a dusky pink and smooth, with a tiny little slit. He rubs the head of his dick against your entrance, applying gentle pressure.

The way his rough hands spread your thighs apart for himself makes you tingle slightly, and his muttered words make your cheeks heat up. The way he's staring at your pussy, like it's mesmerizing, makes you nervous but you don't move away from it.

Your breath shudders when you feel him rub the head of his dick against you, applying that gentle pressure and it makes for a weird but not unpleasant sensation. It makes you want to clench up but manage to stay relaxed, open to him.

Watching him nervously but not at all unwanting of it all.

He pushes against your entrance, applying a bit more pressure. His dick is leaking precum, making it easier for him to slide inside you. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He grunts, his eyes locked on where you’re about to connect. He pushes harder, his tip popping inside your tight little pussy.

A sharp gasp leaves your lips when you feel the burning stretch of him inside your pussy, however little it is. It's a sharp sudden pain you hadn't anticipated but you know it's normal.

You bring your hands down instinctively to his large hands holding your thighs open, fingers curling around the back of his hands tightly. Your head drops back against your pillows, eyes closing as you focus on breathing and adjusting to the sudden intrusion into your body.

Your breasts rise and fall with your heavy breaths, brushing against your arms.

"Just breathe, sweetheart." He whispers roughly, pushing in another inch. Fuck, you’re so tight around his head. He can feel you stretching around him, those virgin pussy trying to adjust to his size. He squeezes your thighs gently with his hands, watching your face for any signs of discomfort.

His rough whisper accompanied by another inch of his dick pushing into you is met with a whimper—one of your hands drops down from his to cover your mouth. You don't want to be too loud and risk someone hearing.

Your eyes open and you look at him through your lashes, her brows drawn in a furrow. He's so big, which she anticipated but having it push into her pussy is a whole other thing.

It hurts, for sure, but her desire to have him takes priority. She tries to relax, taking deep breaths through her nose and exhaling out just the same.

Jason groans as he feels you tightening around him, those little gasps and whimpers going straight to his dick. Fuck, you’re doing so well taking him. 

He leans down, pressing his forehead against yours as he pushes in another inch. "Such a good girl."

Your eyes close when he leans down, forehead to yours as he pushes in another inch of his cock. It almost feels like too much when you know it's not, the foreign sensation of being invaded making it feel that way.

His praise makes you feel like you’re doing a lot more than what you are, that you’re doing so good. You relax slightly, despite the ache of the stretch, and try to loosen your muscles up. Your eyes open and meet his gaze, it's as intimate as anyone can get with his forehead to yours.

And to think this man's your dad's best friend.

"Fuck, I'm so deep in you." He mutters against your lips, his hips pressing forward until his pelvis is flush with yours. He's bottomed out in your tight little pussy, his dick throbbing and leaking inside you.

You grunt and your hips jerk slightly when he bottoms out in you, his hips pressing flush against yours. His words are dirty but they send a tingle up your spine nonetheless.

You exhale deeply, eyes dropping off him to look down where you’re flush together, albeit curious. You were almost a little surprised he fit entirely inside you with how he looked compared to you.

The pain slowly trickles away after a few minutes, something else replacing it that makes your skin feel sweaty. Your eyes flicker back up to his, a little unsure what the fuck your feeling in your belly right now.

He watches you carefully, seeing the slight change in your expression. Your body is less tense, those pretty tits rising and falling faster. "Do you still hurt?" He asks roughly, his hands sliding down to cup your bottom, spreading your cheeks slightly. That delicious pussy contracts around his length, making him hiss.

When his hands, rough and calloused but gentle in a way, slid down to cup you and spread your cheeks slightly, you couldn't help your reaction. It made something inside you get brushed against and it felt like a frisson up your whole body.

Your breathing quickens slightly but at the sound of his hiss your focus recenters onto him, did you... hurt him somehow?

"No. Are you okay?" You answer his question and ask one of your own, your brows furrowed in concern.

"Fuck, yeah I'm okay." He growls, squeezing your ass cheeks. The feeling of that tight little pussy wrapping around him is incredible. Jason starts to rock his hips slowly, his dick sliding in and out of you just an inch or two.

You go to respond to his growled words, despite the squeeze his hands have on your ass, when his hips start to move and it's like a white sheet goes over your vision for a solid second.

The sensation is entirely new and mind blowing. And a bit painful too.

Your back arches just a little and you choke out a moan before quickly covering your mouth with your hand again—god forbid your dad comes to investigate a weird noise coming from your room.

Not when it just got good. Toe curling kind of good, a feeling you never knew could even exist before now.

"Fuck." He hisses, feeling your small hands muffling your noises again. He hooks his arms under your thighs and wraps your legs around his waist, opening you up even more. He starts to thrust shorter, deeper strokes, hitting deeper inside you.

The new position has you feeling like you’re teetering at some kind of edge, leaning precariously toward falling. Your back arches more and your hand muffles the moans gradually growing in consistency. Your thighs shake against him, your stomach sucking in with each stilted breath you take.

Whatever he's hitting deep inside you has you seeing stars and feeling like you’re a buzzing, live wire. Your breathing picks up pace as your hips jerk with each slow thrust of his hips.

Jason can feel you tightening around him with each deep thrust, those legs trembling against his waist. Fuck, you’re close already. "That's it, sweetheart." He groans, "Let it happen. Come on my cock." He grinds against you harder, hitting that sensitive spot inside you relentlessly.

His words are filthy and vulgar and make you feel hot all over. You whimper and moan against your hand, muffling it as much as you can. His hard grinding hitting something inside you with an almost abusive accuracy that has you gasping in air against your hand covering your mouth.

Your legs tremble and your toes curl as you tumble off that edge he had you teetering on. Your head drops back and your eyes roll as you gasp sharply against your hand, gushing all over his cock.

He feels you gushing around him, that pussy clenching down on his dick like a vice. "Fuck yes." He groans, burying his face in your neck as he continues to thrust through your orgasm. He can feel his own release building, his balls tightening.

You take your hand off your mouth, opting out for burying your face in the crook of his neck when he leans down to yours. You gasps against his sweaty skin, body jerking with his thrusts as he chases his own release.

You whimper against his skin, arms coming around his shoulders, nails digging into the skin on his back as he fucks you damn near too sensitive. Your pussy convulses around him in pulses, whether to suck him in or push him out is beyond your comprehension at the moment.

"I'm fucking close," he whispers, his voice ragged against your neck. His hands grip your ass harder, fingers digging into the flesh. Each thrust becomes less controlled, more desperate. "Are you on birth control?" He mutters, barely able to form coherent thoughts as he feels his orgasm building.

His question mixed with everything he's doing to you, the hard grip on your ass, the desperate thrusts into your overly sensitive pussy, has it hard to form a coherent thought.

Your nails dig into his skin, breath fast and heavy against his neck mixing with whimper-y moans. Having to really think is almost a goddamn feat in this state.

"Jesus— yeah, yes. On birth control." You manage to get out against his neck, followed by a whimper punched out of your lungs by his thrusts.

"Thank fuck." He groans, hearing your confirmation. His thrusts become erratic, chasing his impending release. He buries himself deep inside you, his cock throbbing intensely.

With a final low groan against your neck, he comes hard, pulsing streams of hot cum deep into your convulsing pussy.

Your head drops back slightly with a choked gasp when he pushes himself deep inside you, the searing heat of his cum filling your pussy and lower belly with warmth and a weird sensation of being full.

Your body tenses for a second before going lax, your legs sliding off from around his waist and your hands dropping low on his biceps instead of his back. You let your eyes close as you try to catch your breath, cunt pulsing in time with your heartbeat.

You just lost your virginity to your dad's best friend, and damn was it phenomenal.

Jason holds you for a moment, his heart pounding in his chest. Once he's sure you’re okay, he carefully pulls out of you, his softening dick making a wet sound as it leaves your pussy.

You shivers when he pulls out, the sudden emptiness feels strange after all of that work just to get him inside you.

He grabs a few tissues from the nightstand and gently wipes you clean before tossing them in the trash.

You exhale slowly, thighs twitching when you feel him wipe you clean, it was a sweet gesture though. You relax again, thinking about everything that just happened. 

Your lips curve up into a little grin as you giggle a little bit, your hands—faintly shaky from your orgasm—coming up to cover your face and muffle the noise slightly.

The situation had a sense of surrealism to it.

"Shush... your dad will hear." He whispers, gently removing your hands from your face with a soft smile. "What's so funny?" He murmurs, studying your bright eyes and flushed cheeks.

Your innocence just got fucked away, and God help him, he loved every second of it.

He's not wrong so you bite your lip with a smile, letting him gently remove your hands from your face. You take in the soft smile on his, he looks relaxed that way.

It's a look that suits him, you think.

You just gave your innocence away to your dad's thirty-eight-year-old best friend, a man twenty years your senior. It's filthy in some way, but it was so good, and he was so sweet with you.

"Nothing, just happy." You mumble softly, tilting your head a little against your pillow to look at him better. Quite content with everything despite all the risks.

He chuckles softly, reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "Happy, huh?" He murmurs, his eyes softening as he looks down at you. "Well, that makes two of us. Though I have to say, corrupting my best friend's little girl..."

Your smile softens a little when he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, the gesture sweet. His eyes softening when he looks down at you is like the cherry on top.

You snort quietly at the idea of him corrupting you, maybe defiling but he didn't ruin you. You’re still the same person, he just... opened a very pleasuring door.

"Please, corrupting?" You say with a humorous tone. Your hand sliding to one of his, fingers curling around three of his own. "Stay with me tonight?" You whisper questioningly.

He squeezes your fingers gently, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. Your innocent request tugs at something deep inside him, a protectiveness he never knew he had for you. "You want me to stay?" He murmurs, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. "What if your dad finds out?"

Your dad is probably sleeping downstairs, oblivious to the fact that you just lost your virginity to his best friend.

He's got a right to be concerned, if he is, about your dad finding out about what he did. It's not you he'd be mad at in the end. But your dad and him have been friends for decades, he probably knows that man's schedule like his own.

Plus, he literally sneaks around for a living.

You give the fingers you have in your grasp a small squeeze with a soft smile. "I'm sure. And you probably know when he wakes up, just sneak out to the guest room before that." You say quietly with a small shrug of one shoulder.

He nods slowly, considering your words. You’re right, he does know Roy’s routine like the back of his hand. And the guest room is right next to your bedroom, making it easy for him to sneak out before Roy wakes up. "Alright, deal."

You grin when he agrees to stay, happy as can be. And if he thinks you'll be letting go of him after tonight, he's dead wrong. But you'll be careful, you’re not stupid.

You won't risk whatever you’ve got by being reckless because you want things.

You shuffle to give him room on the bed, tossing the towel you set down before you did anything—now slightly wet with prior activities—off the bed before pulling the blanket down. "Come on, mister." You beckon, patting the spot next to you.

Jason smirks slightly as he slips under the covers beside you, the heat from your bodies mingling comfortably. Despite the gravity of what you’ve done, there's an easy, almost innocent feeling to curling up next to you. He pulls you close, tucking your head beneath his chin.

You sigh in contentment when he pulls you close and tucks you beneath his chin, relaxing immediately into his warmth. He's like a big furnace; you could curl around him and be warm forever.

You settle for a leg over his torso, snuggling close. Your eyes close and you settle down, letting the exhaustion of everything settle into you and lull you into a quiet calm and drifting slowly off to sleep. His warmth and the comfort of having him there helps speed things along.

He smiles softly as you throw your leg over his body possessively. His mind registers this action—it's territorial. Like a damn cat. 

He pulls you closer, one hand slipping down to cup your bare backside. His mind races with thoughts, most of them centered around you and what you both just did.

It's not long until he let himself follow you and drift off to sleep.

[erikawrites13]

Velvet Cage - The First Crack

Part 2

So you know- "English is not my first language. I have dyslexia. Let me know what you think about it, please."

And please read part 1 before this!

Max Verstappen x Charles Leclerc Warning! Context Dark Romance, Slow Burn, Mafia AU, Power imbalance and manipulation.

Max didn’t touch him. That was the worst part.

He could’ve. Charles stood there, shirt hanging limp in one hand, chest rising and falling like he’d just run ten miles instead of dancing for a crowd of drunk voyeurs. But Max didn’t lay a finger on him. He just watched — eyes sharp, cold, hungry.

And then, just like that, he turned and walked out. Left the door open behind him.

Left the air behind him — poisoned and trembling and full of something Charles didn’t have a name for.

Not yet.

Backstage at The Lioness had its own rhythm. Girls came and went. Makeup smeared, laughter fake, everyone surviving on Red Bull, nicotine, and whatever sugar daddy kept the lights on that week.

Charles didn’t talk to anyone. He didn’t need to. He danced, he got paid, he left.

But now?

Now they looked at him different. Like they knew. Not the whole story. Just enough. Enough to smell the heat on him.

Max hadn’t laid a hand. But his mark was already there.

Like Charles had been claimed.

A few days later

Velvet was always the closer. Always the one they waited for.

But when Charles stepped onstage this time, the lights burned hotter. The stares pressed heavier. The music wasn’t loud enough to drown out the ghost of Max’s voice.

“I want you bent.”

He danced like always — sharp, cruel, untouchable. But his pulse betrayed him. Every move felt seen. Measured. Owned.

And in the booth, as always, sat Max. Same glass of whiskey. Same unreadable expression. But this time, something different lived in his eyes. Patience. That slow, rotting kind. The kind men use when they already know how the story ends.

When the curtain fell, Charles didn’t go to his dressing room.

He slipped out the back. Into the alley. The need for air. But this was Monaco. The air didn’t help. Too thick. Too expensive. Too fake.

He lit a cigarette with unsteady fingers, leaned against the wall, tried not to think. Tried not to feel.

“You danced angry tonight.” The voice came from the dark smooth, quiet, inevitable.

Charles didn’t flinch. He didn’t look.

He knew. Max.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Charles said, exhaling smoke. “I didn’t invite you.”

Max stepped into the low light, hands buried in the pockets of a long black coat. Always dressed like a man headed to either a gala or a funeral.

Maybe both.

“I go where I want,” Max said. “You know that.”

Charles didn’t move. “What do you want?”

Max’s eyes dragged over him. Not his face. Lower. The cigarette. The curve of his lips. The tremor in his hand — too subtle for anyone else.

But not for Max.

“I want you to stop lying,” he said.

“To who?”

“To yourself.”

Silence.

Charles turned. Crushed the cigarette under his boot. Closed the space between them.

Close enough for Max to smell the sweat on his skin. The adrenaline sparking just beneath.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Charles lied.

Max’s gaze darkened. But he didn’t smile. He didn’t have to.

“I don’t want your fear,” he said, voice low and final. “I want your obedience.”

“I’m not a dog.”

“No,” Max murmured. “You’re a lion in a cage. And you hate that you want someone to hold the key.”

Charles blinked. That was the second crack. Not in his face. In the silence.

Max leaned in. His breath ghosted Charles’s mouth.

“But don’t worry,” he said. “You’ll beg for the leash.”

Then he turned. And walked away. Again.

Leaving Charles alone with the smoke, the sweat, and a truth he still couldn’t swallow.

Not yet. But soon.

[littleskeletonprincessss]

Heyyyy yknow what we were just talking about? So, maybe you should write Schlatt getting mad and fucking the shit out of you

-In any context-

I’m totally not just asking this so I can complete all the drafts I have

Heyyyy, i'm going to use what we were talking about as the scenario for this. (For anyone confused, you can go read the post here (you definitely SHOULD go read it because) but tldr, Schlatt would throw a bitch fit trying to put a tent up. (The SHELTER kind, you filthy rats)

also, was definitely listening to ysf audio while doing this which kinda helped. Definitely recommend him if you haven't heard.

Just some HCs:

It definitely would have taken weeks and a couple blowjobs to convince Schlatt to take you camping.

When he finally gave in, the process didn't go smooth AT ALL.

You both somehow forgot to actually make reservations at a camping site, but you reassured him that you didn't need a campsite, you could just drive into the mountains somewhere.

So anyway it starts POURING rain.

And his car is getting dirty driving through all the mud puddles trying to find a place

Side note I think Schlatt is definitely the kind of man who babies his stupid car.

As much as he babies you, if not more

When you finally find a clearing, and the rain stopped, you both got out to set up camp

But come to find out the instructions for your tent were nowhere to be found.

Schlatt being who he is, insisted with every ounce of pride in his body, that he could figure the damn thing out.

He definitely muttered lots of swear words under his breath, along with the whole idea of this stupid trip

You'd been unloading the bed supplies and when you were done you noticed it was getting darker

So you innocently asked Schlatt if he wanted a little bit of help when you noticed that he'd made no progress

"No I don't want you goddamn help. I'm not a fucking idiot."

"Schlatt, come on, it's getting dark, let me help."

"Shut the fuck up. This whole stupid camping trip was your idea in the first place."

You could see Schlatt's eyes darken with anger and frustration and fuck was it hot.

"No."

Was it a good idea to say that right now? Oh absolutely fucking not. Did you care? Absolutely fucking not.

"What the fuck did you just say to me?"

"You heard me."

Schlatt would stand up, throwing the bag of stakes down and walk to the pile of blankets before grabbing a big one off the top.

"I thought I fucking did. Fuck this fucking dumbass tent, I can blow your back out right here, now lay the fuck down."

After Schlatt would spread the blanket out you'd lay down on the slightly damp ground, barely having time to move a rock from under your back before Schlatt was pressing hard kisses against your neck, sucking harsh bruises.

"What, I don't even get a kiss first?"

Schlatts hand would immediately be on your throat.

"You need to shut your goddamn mouth. Make me drive to the middle of bum fuck nowhere with a stupid tent that won't stay up."

Schlatt would break up his sentences with nips to your neck.

His other hand would hold both of your above your head, pinning your wrists.

The nice thing about being in the middle of nowhere was you could be as loud as you needed and Schlatt made it his personal goal sometime to make you break the world record for loudest noise ever made.

He'd waste no time getting both of you naked so he could just fuck you already and sink the tent he never had trouble getting up between your thighs.

And he'd go HARD.

Taking every bit of anger out on you

"Yeah, that's my little bitch. Just a fucking little cumslut for me aren't you doll? That's all your good for apparently, since you can only come up with stupid ideas like camping"

"Open your fucking mouth." he'd say before spitting in it. "That's it, sweetheart, take it."

Man would go for hours he was so pent up, both of you coming multiple times together.

After he'd finally calmed down, when the sun was just coming up, he'd pull his underwear back on before dressing you in the warm pajamas you'd brought

Just some of his sweats and his Wilson hoodie

before wrapping you in a clean blanket and bridal carrying you to the passenger seat of the car

He'd get dressed and pack everything up before sliding in to his sit and leaning over the console to kiss you.

"You okay baby?"

Schlatt is aftercare king, always.

"Mmm" you'd mumble quietly

Starting the car, Schlatt would start driving home.

You'd turn to watch the trees pass by out the window before glancing in the rearview mirror.

"Schlatt I think you forgot the tent."

"Nope."

And he'd drive away without another word leaving a pile of canvas behind you.

Anyway sorry this was shit. <3

[meraki-yao]

RWRB: A list of thoughts on the Campfire Scene

Ok I went to sleep for another hour to calm myself down and now I can form coherent thoughts about the scene and not just scream and squeal

It's a three-minute scene with two shots. The first shot is a little over two minutes

When Alex asks his question, Henry, who was looking into the fire, tilts his head towards Alex as if to listen better. After Alex finishes, Henry looks up towards the sky, like he's wondering how to answer

Alex doesn't really react to Henry's "Once upon a time" even though he's not directly answering Alex's question. He just listens, and that's such a beautiful thing

Nick deserves a round of applause for this scene, his monologue was two minutes long, and monologues are really hard to perform because it's just you who keeps talking, you don't really get to react to other things or people, it's just you, so Nick is a fantastic job

Nick's delivery and tone, and the way he sometimes ends a sentence a bit like a question (ex: "acutely") makes it sound like Henry's been thinking about this story/ metaphor for a while but this is the first time he ever verbalizes it, so while he knows what he wants to talk about thus he doesn't need to pause a lot to think of the story, he does occasionally need to think of the next word or line because again, he never actually said any of this out loud before, and Nick does that so well

@pippin-katz pointed out that Nick misspoke and said "sent the suit a prince of armour" which is hilarious, and while because movie, this shouldn't happen, realistically we all have moments where we mix words up so it almost feels more... authentic? Also, I didn't pick it up but now that Pippin mentioned it I'm really aware of it lmao

Also Henry/Nick's voice here is so soothing? I can almost imagine him telling bedtime stories to his and Alex's kids like this in the future. I wonder if Henry would write children's books because it feels like it'd be something he do and something he could write really well, if this clip is anything to go by. Plus I stumbled across an audio of Nick reading "The Emperor's New Clothes" before (I literally have no context of why he was reading that and it was literally just audio, not sure if I can find it anymore) and it was so soothing and calming that I fell asleep to it one night. Besides the full-cast RWRB audiobook that I'm practically demanding at this point, I wonder if he would be interested in doing more audiobook/narration stuff. He's really got the voice for it

The King sending a suit of armour to protect the prince's heart kind of further proves my point of the King being a much more loving grandparent to Henry than the queen in the book, and him worrying more about Henry himself than the image of the crown. He noticed that 1, Henry is an emotionally sensitive person, 2, Henry is gay, and both of those things could be turned against him easily, and he will get hurt. He does love Henry, just not in a way that's good for Henry. If we get a sequel I do hope we can see them reconcile in one way or another. It'd be a nice example for people in the same positions.

The "Nothing will ever happen to him" line!!!! I wrote a whole essay about Kensington and this line because somehow this line was one of the most powerful ones to me, but to know that it was originally Henry's word just adds another level of pain to the Kensington scene

You can see Henry's face light up when he starts talking about the peasant boy. And Alex's quick eyebrow raise and deep chuckle. It's so beautiful, I wanna cry

We talk about Alex's heart eyes, which, yes, but Henry's look of pure adoration and love at Alex when he says "Truly Alive" makes me want to melt

I yelled a little at Alex when he started to lay back down (as in I verbally shouted "DAMMIT ALEX LOOK AT YOUR MAN") because I felt like if Alex saw Henry's face in the following lines he'd figure out Henry has issues earlier? But then I saw a take saying the shot was framed like theatre where Henry's both centre stage and in the spotlight so the focus is on him, so Alex was designed to lay back down on the timber bench to make the entire space for Henry

Henry's look of sad longing when he talks about the peasant boy pulling apart his armor is heartbreaking

I wonder if this was originally planned to be the changing point from Alex's POV to Henry's POV? Because in that case I do think the lake scene worked better as a changing point

I also wonder how did Henry end the story in his head up to this point? Because as hopefully as the last line is, at this point in the story, Henry still doesn't believe he can keep this

I get why scenes are cut because when you're putting together a movie, there are a lot of things you don't see for individual scenes until you put them together. This is why as much as I want the cast and crew to get the premiere they deserve to have, I don't really want an extended cut of the movie, because things were cut for a good reason

That being said, if the cornetto scene and this scene proved anything, is that the scenes themselves are fascinating, and I WANT THEM ALL

[paws-akimbo]

OOC: O-KAY YE WEE FUCKERS, JUST HAD 2 VERY VERY CURSED DMS AND AN ASK IVE HAD TO NUKE, SO THIS NEEDS TO BE SAID, APPARENTLY

THERE IS A FUNDAMENTAL DIFFERENCE.

BETWEEN WHAT IM OK WITH IN THE CONTEXT OF BBQ, THE CHARACTER, AND WHEN YOURE SPECIFICALLY TALKING TO ME, THE WRITER.

Tw for sexual harassment

So I'm laying down some boundaries ffs.

First and foremost unless I specify all my DMs are ooc. No flirting, definitely nothing sexual. Seriously. This shouldn't have to be said.

So cursed DM number 1, calrify that youre ic, don't let it happen again, and we're all good.

Cursed DM number 2, impretty sure youre a bot but on the off chance you arent, please go, and I mean this gently and sincerely, to therapy.

Secondly

Please don't sexually harass my oc. She is a chronic flirt. She's also the type who actually thought about it for a while when asked "do you want your leaked nudes to be deleted".

But some of yall need to touch grass and remember that just because someone is casually amorous af does not mean you get to assume they have no boundaries. If you, and I quote, "take a risk", and she tells you to knock it off, you fucked up, act like it.

YOU WANT TO SEND BBQ FLIRTY ANONS? OR EVEN OFF ANON? GO AHEAD! I made her like this FOR A REASON. YOU WANT TO SEND HER SUGGESTIVE SHIT? GO AHEAD! I FIND IT FUNNY! BUT IF WHAT YOU SEND CONTAINS ANYTHING ACTUALLY EXPLICIT ITS GETTING NUKED. THIS (<embedded link) IS A PERFECT EXAMPLE OF EXACTLY HOW FAR YOU CAN PUSH IT BEFORE I NUKE IT. IC, WHAT BBQ SEES IS EXPLICIT BUT WHAT ANYONE ACTUALLY READING THE BLOG SEES IS ONLY IN THE "VERY SUGGESTIVE" CATEGORY.

ALSO! DONT TOUCH HER WITHOUT PERMISSION! ESPECIALLY NOT WHILE FLIRTING! THAT'S JUST PLAIN CREEPY! AGAIN, SOMEONE BEING A CHRONIC FLIRT DOESN'T MEAN YOU GET TO VIOLATE BASIC SHIT LIKE THAT!

(To all the folks who have participated in the BBQ Simps gag, and the horde waiting in my inbox, the anger is directed to almost none of you, though the boundaries set do. You've mostly been civil and kept anything suggestive "off screen", which I thank you for.)

AND FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, MY INBOX IS NOT THE PLACE TO DESCRIBE YOUR OC'S NIPPLES. THIS SHOULDNT NEED TO BE SAID. I GAVE BBQ A SHOWER SCENE. IF I WANTED EXPLICIT STUFF ON MY BLOG, I WOULD HAVE DONE IT THEN.

[electrikworm]

A peaceful moment

Relationships: Omega & Wrecker & Tech

Content Warnings: Chronic Pain, Past Child Abuse (vaguely mentioned)

Summary:

After getting the Marauder back and leaving Ipsidon, Wrecker's abnormally quiet. At first, Omega thinks he's upset about the argument he and Tech had, but she soon discovers the uncomfortable truth about the side effects Wrecker's enhancements have.

Word count: 2,140

Read on Ao3

Since they'd gotten the Marauder back and left Ipsidon, Wrecker hasn't moved from his spot on the lowest sleeping rack. As soon as they'd boarded the ship, he took off his armor and laid down facing the wall. He's got one of those thin blankets distributed to clone troopers pulled up high. Omega can only just see the top of his head from where she's peeking out behind the curtain separating what's been designated as her room from the rest of the ship.

Wrecker likes to sleep. Definitely more than Tech or Hunter do. Sometimes it seems like they don't sleep at all. This isn't normal though, he's barely said a word to anyone, hasn't reacted to anyone walking past either. Omega tried walking past him a few times just to check.

Wrecker doesn't look like he's sleeping anyway. He's too still, and when he does move, he moves too coordinated to be asleep. His breathing hasn't evened out either.

Why is he just laying there? Is something wrong? Something has to be wrong...

Is he mad at Tech?

After the Havoc Marauder got stolen, the two of them were fighting a lot, maybe that's why Wrecker's not talking to anyone. Omega climbs down from her room and walks up to Wrecker for the seventh time since they took off. Like the six times before, he doesn't react.

“Wrecker?” Omega asks, carefully placing a hand on Wreckers shoulder. The twitch in response to the touch is so subtle, Omega can barely feel it through the blanket.

“Hmm?” He sounds unfocused, tired. From where she's standing now, Omega can just about tell that the one of his eyes she can see is closed. Maybe he really was sleeping?

“Are you mad at Tech?” Omega asks. Wrecker doesn't say anything for a moment, then he laughs. It's not nearly as loud as it usually is.

“M'not mad at Tech. Jus' tired.” The way his voice slurs, he really does sound tired.

“Okay.” Omega says, not ready to drop this yet. She can't shake the feeling that something is wrong. Wrecker doesn't seem very talkative, so Omega expands her investigation to the cockpit, where she knows she'll find Tech and Hunter.

As the door to the room slides open, it seems she's interrupted a passive conversation the two were having. Tech's sitting in the pilots chair, eyes trained on the datapad in his hands, Hunter was looking out into hyperspace, but turns to look at Omega when he notices her presence. He smiles slightly.

“Do you need something?” he asks.

“Tech, are you mad at Wrecker?” That makes Tech look up from his work.

“I'm not mad at him.” he states matter-of-factly. Hunter glances at Tech, then back at Omega.

“We were all frustrated by an unfortunate situation. I'm sure there are no lasting hard feelings.” Hunter says. Tech nods courtly in agreement.

“I was simply pointing out that the Marauder being stolen was Wreckers fault, as he was the sole person on watch.” Tech adds before Omega can process the new information. She isn't the slightest bit closer to figuring out what's wrong with Wrecker.

“Then why's Wrecker just been lying there since we took off?” Omega asks, pointing through the doorway leading to the rest of the ship. Hunters eyebrows draw together at that.

“The whole time?” He sounds concerned. Omega nods.

“His chronic pain is most likely flaring up.” says Tech.

“Chronic pain?” Omega asks. Of course she knows what that is, but she had never considered it in Wrecker's context. Nala Se had never mentioned it, neither had Wrecker.

“Yes, an unfortunate side effect of his enhancements.” Tech says, then sighs. “I should have predicted that it would rear it's ugly head. Wrecker put a lot of strain on his body during our involuntarily extended stay on Ipsidon.”

Omega cringes at the memory of the last day. No wonder Wrecker's having a rough time.

“I will check on him.” Tech says, stretching as he stands up. He glances at Hunter before continuing. “Your presence is likely to be beneficial, Omega. It would be appreciated if you accompanied me.”

Omega nods. She planned to go along anyway.

Wrecker's exactly were she left him, still laying on his side, motionless. Omega leans over him, trying to see his face.

“Wrecker?” His eyes open sluggishly, exhaustion marring his expression. He still smiles when he sees Omega.

“Need somethin'?” he says.

Omega shakes her head at the same time Tech huffs and shakes his head. “The one that needs something is you. How many times do we have to remind you to say something if you're experiencing issues?”

“I'm not experiencing issues. 'm fine.”

“You are not.” Tech states. “Will you let me look at your back?”

Wrecker sighs. “Fine.” Good. Omega almost thought they were going to argue again.

Tech stops Wrecker from sitting up by placing a hand on his shoulder. “I can work like this just fine.” Omega watches closely as Tech removes the blanket from Wrecker's upper body and starts pushing up the top half of his under-shirt.

Omega grimaces when she sees the deep bruises littering the exposed skin. Most of them look to be from the creatures he was run over by. Tech runs his hand along Wrecker's spine carefully, expression pinched in concentration. Wrecker inhales sharply, flinching away from the touch.

“Apologies.” Tech withdraws his hand. Wrecker lifts his arm gingerly to wave Tech off. The way he's moving is worrying Omega. “Are you bothered by the bruises or-”

Wrecker interrupts Tech. “The bruises are fine, s'just my back that's the problem.”

“I thought as much.” Tech says, readjusting his goggles. “Omega, could you get the medkit for me?”

Omega sprints off, familiar with where the box is stored now. Her brothers, and occasionally her, seem to need it a lot. They've told her that they always got injured a lot, but Omega isn't entirely sure they're not just saying that to make her feel better. If Omega wasn't with them, her brothers would be hiding somewhere remote like the Lawquane family is. Tech thanks Omega when she returns with the medkit.

He takes something out of the medkit Omega's not seen them use before. It's a type of patch, similar in size to a bacta patch, but the packaging is different.

“That's not part of standard medkits.” Omega says.

“Astute observation.” Tech says as he applies the patch to Wrecker's upper back. Wrecker flinches again when Tech smooths it down, but seems to relax a little after. “They are heat patches, and were never distributed to soldiers. Upon learning that heat decreases the pain Wrecker experiences regularly, we made sure to have some on hand at all times.”

“How do they work?” Omega asks, leaning to look at the one stuck to Wrecker's back. Tech's already unpacking a second, placing that one of the lower part of Wrecker's back.

“When activated, an exothermic chemical reaction is triggered within the patch.” Tech takes a moment to study Omega's face, likely trying to tell if she'd understood what he said. She does, so she smiles at her brother.

“Okay.” Omega says, moving to crouch near Wrecker's head again.

“I will be giving you a dose of painkillers Wrecker. Consider this your warning.” Tech says, producing a hypo from the medkit.

“No.” Wrecker says firmly, voice surprisingly clear. He's covering his neck with his hand. Omega still hasn't figured out what Wrecker's issue with needles is. She's not sure she wants to know.

“Cease being difficult, kih'vod.” Tech sighs. “You are aware the neck isn't the only area medication is administered, right?”

Wrecker lets out a frustrated groan. “I don't need it Tech. 'm fine.”

“The way you have been acting since we left Ipsidon begs to differ.”

“We haven't got a lot of medical supplies left, and they're not cheap. No point using more than necessary.”

Tech shakes his head. “I deem it necessary. And after that mission, I say you deserve it.” When Wrecker just grumbles, Tech gives Omega a look.

“Please Wrecker.” Omega says, making him turn his head to look at her better. “I don't like seeing you hurt.”

Wrecker's expression has a sadness to it as he pauses to think. He sighs as he lets his hand drop away from his neck. “Fine.”

Tech smiles at Omega as he disinfects an area on Wrecker's neck. Wrecker's visibly shaking as he anticipates the needle piercing his skin. Tech warns Wrecker again before pressing the hypo to his neck.

Once Tech's got the painkillers in their brother, he tidies the medkit and makes to leave. “Keep an eye on him.” He says to Omega. She nods in response. She'll keep an eye on him like her life depends on it.

As the pain medication takes hold, Omega can see the lines on Wrecker's face soften. “Should I get Lula?” She asks once she's sure the painkillers have started working right.

Wrecker smiles tiredly. “Yeah, I'd like that a lot.”

When Omega returns, she tucks the stuffed tooka into her brothers arms, carefully pulling the blanket back over his shoulders.

“Thanks 'mega.” Wrecker says. Omega sits on the floor next to him.

“Are you in pain a lot?” Omega asks after a moment of silence.

“It's not that bad, kid.” The way he sounds doesn't make Omega very confident in the words he's saying. “It's always been this way, I'm used to it.”

“That doesn't make it any better...”

Wrecker sighs. “Look Omega, they did a lot of tests, experiments, on us when we were kids. They're the reason I'm strong the way I am today. I'm fine with a bit of pain if it's a side effect of making me a useful part of this squad.” Wrecker puts a hand on Omega's shoulder gently. It can't be comfortable to do so from the angle he's laying at.

“How bad is it?”

“The pain?” Wrecker asks. Omega nods again. “Depends. Some days it's fine, other's it's like this. You don't have to worry about it Omega.”

Omega doesn't say anything for a moment. She grew up knowing bits and pieces of the experiments done on her brothers, even helped with some. She never knew the downsides they had.

“Do the others have problems too?” She's not sure she wants to know, but avoiding the truth doesn't help anyone. Wrecker seems to hesitate for a moment.

“Yeah.” He says sadly. “Different from me. Tech and Hunter get a lot of awful headaches and Crosshair...” Wrecker suddenly goes very quiet. “Crosshair has problems with his eyes.”

Neither of them say anything for a moment.

“Best you just ask them.” Wrecker eventually continues. “They can give you a better answer.”

Omega would like to ask them now, but she won't leave Wrecker alone. She feels like she should say something, but can't think of anything. Instead, she tries to think about What Nala Se told her about her brother's enhancements.

She remembers various operations and experiments mentioned, but not all of them made it out of the planning stage. Nala Se let her watch some of the procedures, but usually only through a pane of transparisteel.

Realization hits Omega as she remembers seeing one of the experiments done on Wrecker. “They injected something into you're back, right?” Omega asks. Wrecker cringes at the mention and nods. “Nala Se never told me what it was...”

“You and me both kid.” Wrecker says with a sigh.

“Is that why you don't like needles?”

Wrecker pulls a face. “It's... one of the reasons.”

“I'm sorry.” Omega puts her hand on Wrecker's.

“What for?”

Omega shrugs. “I guess the experiments. And the side effects of them.”

“Don't be. It's what we were made for.”

“Still doesn't seem right...” Omega wishes her brothers didn't have to suffer just because of the way they were made.

Wrecker's eyes look earnest as he speaks. “Ad'ika, my heads too fuzzy from the stuff Tech gave me to be talking about this. I know things don't always make sense, they didn't make sense to me all the time either. But can we continue the conversation another time?”

Omega's fine with that. She'd like all her brothers involved in that conversation anyway, so they'll have to wait for Echo to be back. “Okay. Can I talk about something else though?”

Wrecker laughs quietly. “I'd love nothing more Omega.”

So Omega start talking, not really sure what she's saying half the time. She talks about the mission, and about things Tech told her that he's definitively already told Wrecker. She talks about anything really, not really sure whether she's doing it to distract Wrecker or herself. Her brother doesn't seem to mind.

At some point, Wrecker appears to fall asleep. Omega keeps talking quietly, hoping that his rest is peaceful.

[ofallthingsnasty]

I just remembered that one ridiculously cute thing in uni during the body donor class - for context: we dental students got pooled together with the meds during the pre-clinical semesters a lot, and that class was no different.

We were separated in two main groups, and one body donor was shared between 12 students - coming in from Monday to Thursday. On Fridays, you could come in until 12 and just look at the donors without any supervision, you just needed your coat and name tag. And I remember going in before the situs oral and trying to understand how blood flows through the heart and then one of the meds (super intimidating buff guy) saw me struggle and was like '... Hey do you want me to explain that to you?' and then we sat there - him with a whole heart in hand, explaining it all to me, more than happy to help. Not gonna lie, I had a bit of a crush on that guy for the rest of the semester. We weren't even in the same group, so we never saw each other during prep hours but I always had my eyes peeled for him during lectures haha tw.anatomical stuff (i'm german so if my translations are a little off then i'm sorry hah), cadavers, just fluff

Long story short - I'm thinking about that with Law. You and Chopper are at the same table, come in every Friday to review the material of the week, both a little on the not-so-studious side. (Don't get me wrong, you go to every lecture - but those suckers are two hours long and not the only class you have. It's easy to lose track, especially when all you wanna do is catch up on sleep during the weekends.)

You pull your donor out of the body bag, lay them down and go over your notes, some sessions more and some less successful. The two of you are usually not alone, either - there is always someone else rifling around on their own table. Today it's a guy with a severe expression and some earrings. You've seen him in the lecture hall but you and Chopper aren't in the same group as him, so that's really all you know. You get through this week's lecture notes just fine - until it's time for the heart. The way blood gets fed through the atriums and ventricles, how the pressure changes, systole and diastole, the coronary arteries... You two are feeling beyond lost and so, so close to simply giving up - it's just too much and too intricate (at least for someone who has heard all of that info only once, maybe twice). But then there is also that other student - and maybe, just maybe, he knows more than you two do. It's not unusual to ask - and so that's what you do.

Law can't be assed, actually.

He's reviewing his notes, trying to get his own studying done. He's really not the type to do tutoring, doesn't have the patience for it. But you two are loud - hemming and hawing over your own cadaver and if he has to hear you confuse the mitral valve with the tricuspid one more time, then he's going to get a migraine. What are twenty minutes of his time if it means that you get done with your little idiot session and finally leave the hall? So he sighs and motions you to come closer. He's surprisingly good at explaining. The heart of his donor in one hand, a tissue forceps in the other, he walks you through every fact one would want to know about the organ. You probably have stars in your eyes while he talks because finally, finally you're grasping the material - and really, it might be confusing at first, but it's not that hard. He even lets Chopper regurgitate it all to him and has the two of you giggling over it. Law is just glad you two morons are finally having your little eureka moment because it means that you'll be off in a matter of minutes.

But no good deed goes unpunished.

It's then that you notice his tattoos through the nitrile gloves and suddenly he's the most fascinating living guy around (the most fascinating guy is dead on table 5, with golf ball sized cysts in his liver, sorry Law). He gets bombarded with questions, you and Chopper all over him, way too loud, too excited, too fucking annoying. He's already regretting his little act of charity.

And not only do you have the audacity to ask him to explain fetal circulation (because, please, please it's so confusing) as well, no, from that moment on, you're all over him very goddamn Friday and he's been added to three different group chats the moment Chopper and you leave the hall.

[hahahahawk]

So a couple days ago I blogged about a breakdown as I was having it.

10/10 breakdown, btw, no sarcasm. Maybe it would’ve been healthier to deal with those emotions on a smaller scale over a longer period of time, but clearly my existing coping skills didn’t allow that to happen. Instead I got 20 minutes of crying then a huge feeling of relief that has lasted the two days since then.

(Also, the move got to a point where the end of the work tunnel was clearly visible, and the time tunnel had been extended.)

Here’s the epilogue:

Since I was sobbing uncontrollably for no apparent reason, my partner came to—

Said partner came in the room just now to go over his plans for running errands and I noticed he was wearing his Cowgirl Hello Kitty shirt today.

“When I refer to you on the internet today, should I call you my ‘pardner’?”

Anyway, on Tuesday he came to comfort me coz he’s good like that. He sat with me and cuddled me, and in an absolute autistic win, I asked for a little bit of space so I could keep feeling/processing/writing, and he scooted away and pulled out his phone and let me do my thing until I had digested enough of the Feelings to have a proper conversation.

After telling him about the whole @elodieunderglass context (“so there’s this inside-out fandom on Tumblr…”) and how that particular post got under my skin (complimentary), we were just laying on the bed, unwinding and being gentle at each other.

In that moment i pulled all my feelings into a particular Shape and told him, “I want to give you the gift of my loyalty and a commitment to making this relationship Good”.

Different backstory: we’ve been together for about 4 years now, and last month we bought a house together, but we’ve never truly gotten to the bottom of the question of marriage. I had a brief marriage in my early 20s, and have some baggage about second weddings. Though our government IDs make us look like a hetero couple, neither one of us are cis or fully comfortable with traditional gender roles. During the house buying process, getting hitched came up as a possibility for making things easier, but that idea died on the vine. We signed the house papers for it to be property in common, though.

In the past couple months I’ve (secretly) put in some work on myself to make sure I’m a partner worth marrying—not to ‘force’ it to happen, but to make sure that if it does come up again, to make his decision to spouse me an easier one.

The night before my breakdown we were at a fancy dinner date to say goodbye to our local downtown district. Somewhere between apps and mains I realized, “oh, if I want us to get married, I need to be the one to propose. 🤦🏻”

But even still, it wasn’t a case of putting it on the calendar and popping the question. Gender traditions aside, i had to put a lot of thought into how marriage and a wedding fit into my personal values and those of my partner.

The only practical commitment bigger than buying property together is having kids, and that’s way way way off the table for us. So if we’ve bought a house together, and there are ways to share health benefits (and other stuff like it) without being legally married. Neither of us care about marriage as an institution… so what’s the motivation?

Another wrinkle is that my partner has been single handedly supporting us for the past 18 months. I did a lot of the heavy lifting before that, but recently, he’s done 95% of it. And 95% of the logistical heavy lifting for the move we’re undertaking. Which means proposing right now feels way more like “support me forever” rather than “I’ll take care of you forever”

Which is how I landed on my non-proposal of, “I give you the gift of my loyalty”

It got a conversation rolling where we talked about our wants and our values, touching on all the highlights I mentioned above here. He admitted out loud for the first time that receiving a proposal would 100% be welcome and affirming and his preference. Glad we have that out in the open now. I have an idea of how to ask, but not sure what I’ll do for a proposal gift.

…

It’s been a long week.

[spinnerprincess]

Tales of Arise: Beyond the Dawn personal summary

(lots of negativity ahead, so just scroll on past if you're looking for fun tales of arise content in the tag please!)

Auuuuugggggggghhhh it's such a relief to be done. Okay.

Dear future Liz: don't replay this DLC. I know you might be curious and you might not want to let go of the characters after a replay of the base game, but don't do it. It's not worth it. It's simply not.

If you really feel like you want to play the DLC, read this instead of doing that. I'm serious and I'm going to lay out just about as many impressions as I possibly can so that you don't have to.

Nazamil

Nazamil is just... such a miss. It's actually impressive how well they managed to make such an obvious Shionne/Alphen kiddo stand-in feel so, so frustrating.

She's a teenage girl who has a really hamfisted abusive past plotline. She's half-Dahnan, so her Renan Lord father, the guy who preceded Vholran, hated her. We're introduced to this idea with Nazamil straight up saying out loud to the party "he would come into my room and hit me." No subtlety, no abusive child mindset, she just states this soullessly and everyone goes "wow that's awful" and that's it.

They get to know her for all of like, a week or two, while treating her as the most specialest girl in the world, and continue for the rest of the DLC to treat her like they've known her forever and grew a really close and important bond with her.

Rinwell can't stop talking about how she wants to be friends with Nazamil, to the extent of having no real content or character arc in the DLC because all her time is taken up by that.

When Nazamil's missing, they keep talking nostalgically about her. "Remember that meal we had with her?" "Remember the first time she smiled?" It's surreal. You barely knew her!

There's a point in the game where Alphen generally acts like people's treatment of Nazamil is or should be representative of how successful the complete and absolute integration of Renan and Dahnan society is. Sure, he's stressed out, but... what?

For another example, in the final dungeon, there are secret posters of all six of the cast members to find, which they all find super touching.

Those drawings are clearly inheritors of the Tales tradition of "badly drawn wanted posters" but the context just kinda makes them... bad. Everybody is like "wow, Nazamil's so talented!" and they're just... Not very good! They're fine, but they're not amazing! They're a kid's art!

Glitz says, the posters feel like they're writing for a theoretical invisible player who is young enough to worry that their friends or family wouldn't like their art. It mostly doesn't really feel like how adults or people in general would respond to art. It has a really weird energy.

One good exchange does come out of finding Dohalim's drawing, though. It goes like:

Dohalim: "It's rough work, but it's an accurate depiction." Kisara: "She even drew you tilting your head the way you do sometimes." Dohalim: "Huh, I didn't think anybody but you would ever notice that."

Like, these lines are so good. Best thing to come out of anything Nazamil does, ever.

But that's one tiny good part when the rest feels so awkward and forced. The game needs you to know that Nazamil really loves them and they really love her back, and uh... tells you this, all the time. Perhaps because there would be no reason to believe it if they didn't!

She bonds so hard to these six people as the first people to ever show her a speck of kindness. Except they aren't, Baephon is, but we need Alphen to have a person to have complicated feelings about!

Every beat in the plot and all the others' characterizations bend around her. Alphen struggling with his role as a hero is fine, but at one point in defense of her he draws his full-ass blazing sword power on a bunch of regular human chumps and threatens them while dealing massive damage to part of their city. It just doesn't feel right for him at all and was genuinely fucked up.

She has scary hollowing powers. This comes up once as a problem because it frightens Niez citizens. Then it's never addressed again.

Once we get past the point where she leaves the group, for really thin reasons, she goes off on her own wanting to make the world more peaceful for Alphen. She decides to do this by uhhhhhhh going to the Mausoleums, discovering the Suppressor masks (like the one Alphen wore at the start of the base game), and launching a project to create them en masse and distribute them to everybody on the entire planet. That way, nobody will ever think their own thoughts again and all differences between people will be erased. This is what Alphen wants, right?

Actually, Alphen never gets to even once have an emotion about this whole Suppressor mask business, come to think of it. You know. The guy who wore one for much of his life and much of the base game? They just... don't have him react at all? What??

Oh by the way, she maybe can read minds and she read the minds of the Helganquil maybe, which is how she learned about the keystone (fancy mausoleum controlling all other ones). This is also never addressed again.

She goes full creepy little girl mode the first time the party confronts her about this, which was actually kind of fun for half a second because it wasn't the expected angle. I expected more of an "everybody hates me so I'm going to eliminate all hate" angle but that comes later. Specifically, her motivation is entirely centered around "if everybody thinks like me, then everybody will like you guys, too." Which is a slightly fun twist on that.

Unfortunately right after that part, deciding to take Alphen and the crew's words as "they hate me" instead of the things they're actually saying ("please don't brainwash people"), she puts on a fancy controlling mask that takes her mind over, too. She expresses wanting to erase herself.

From that point forward, the fact that possibly hundreds of people have been harmed by Nazamil's decision to impose mind-control masks on them is barely addressed again.

Instead, the focus is on how "we didn't properly understand Nazamil's pain and this is our fault." Sometimes it dips into better rhetoric, but mostly it's just... taking on her bad mental health as our fault, while simultaneously ignoring the harm she's done. Because she's the real victim, I guess.

The game ends with some textbook shiny light shows with a big boss fight against her while we try to tell her we actually love her and want her to be who she is, and not who others tell her to be... Never mind that ultimately, it doesn't seem like Nazamil has actually been told what she should be by anyone? That has never been her problem? They have just hated her, which is different?

Just before you think it's done doing gross things with her character, they also have her transform into a final-final boss monster by way of a classic Tales violence against women scene. She screams a lot (a lot) while dark magic transforms her into a massive beast, making it clear that the transformation is torturous and grotesque. Cool. I don't like this character but that still doesn't mean I want to see a teenage girl in massive amounts of pain for no reason. Awesome. Say hi, Estelle from Tales of Vesperia, we haven't learned a thing.

Also??? Some of those final lines feel. Targeted? Like I can't say for sure that they are, but playing some DLC released post-COVID that has Shionne saying things like "I want you to take off your mask and talk to me face-to-face" is... not apolitical, perhaps... Mm. It didn't feel that way most of the time at least but I do want to mention it.

I really wish in all this that Nazamil had a single personality trait. There could be, in something better written, something to be said for how you can't be yourself under threat of abuse, but they just don't earn it. At all.

Oh, right, she does have one trait, I forgot. She likes drawing. My bad.

Glitz wants me to add that that "you can't be yourself under threat of abuse" was already done interestingly with the part where Vholran takes Shionne and you have to confront her thorns about it. The ways that abuse and neglect can create isolation, and you way you can build a cage around yourself because of it... This is such a worse rehashing of that!!!

So, yeah. If you're a cute enough girl, never mind the mass brainwashing, oppression, and war crimes you do because you're hurt: you can just be yourself! What's accountability?

It's a far weaker recovery from suicidality plotline than Harvestella and a far weaker I fucked up and need to learn to be myself better without you than Rapunzel (Cassandra). It feels gross and cheapening of both concepts, and does it all at the expense of the main cast being able to just... exist without suddenly having their entire world revolve around someone they've known for three seconds.

Ugh. Ugh ugh ugh. The worst part is I might well have forgotten yet another bad part of all this, because of how bad so much of it was.

Sidequests

Some good, some bad.

TLDR on the cities, especially for if you ever need to write fic:

Pelegion: mostly Renan, Dahnans exist but are struggling. Dohalim is in charge and trying to slowly integrate the Renans into society and life there. Major WIP though. Dohalim's NPC friends are here and they're kinda cute.

Viscint: Wonderful A+ 10/10. Kisara and Lagill's group are in charge and trying to keep peace. They have an application process to live there because it's popular for a good amount of food, weather, and peace. Renans and Dahnans both are only permitted to move in if they're willing to sincerely try coexistence. Not perfect and overcrowded, but doing the best by far. (Joke: also Dohalim legalized gay marriage there)

Niez: Explicitly segregated between half Renan and half Dahnan, and having a really bad time of it. Poor Baephon.

Calaglia: Had such a bad time of slavery that for the most part they're just not permitting Renans, sending them on to Pelegion. Slowly recovering and may have more ability to farm in the future.

Cyslodia: Had such a bad time of informant problems that they couldn't handle Renans if they tried; they're still all suspicious of each other as it is. There's a quest where one idea for helping with the social climate is the get everybody drunk and talk about the trauma collectively. This is not a bit, it really happens, you provide supplies for it. Kinda funny.

Most of this is built up through sidequests of varying quality. The best random sidequest is probably from Cyslodia, where it turns out a former Snake has a Renan friend who's been living outside the city walls, and they ask Alphen to go look for him because he knows Alphen has Renan friends and might care. They're two adorable little NPC guys who should date.

Unfortunately some quests just go a little too hard on the whole "wow, it's hard for Renans not to treat Dahnans like slaves" or "wow, Dahnans sure do want to do violence to Renans because they were slaves" stuff. Which... some of it is fair and fine, but it's just a lot worse than the base game for those attitudes.

Marriage Plotline

A throughline of EX Quests lays out that Alphen wants to marry Shionne. Some parts of this plotline are cute, but unfortunately, all of them fall short of the cuteness and excellent relationship already depicted in the base game.

They just consist of Alphen going around "researching marriage" for "no particular reason." He enlists the help of the party, always leaving somebody on Shionne distraction duty. There's an accompanying set of diaries where Shionne worries that everyone is doing this because they found out her secret. Late in the questline she reveals that her "secret" is something everybody already knows: she always sneaks a full plate of food while cooking for everyone. (And then has seconds later, but they're actually thirds.) But it turns out it wasn't that, and it was just Alphen feeling clueless about marriage things like weddings, homes, decorations, etc.

If you complete these quests you get a scene at the end where they fade to black on Alphen clearly proposing to Shionne. They couldn't even write it?

It's not awful, but it's just not worth it given how bad the rest of the DLC is. The base game's ending cutscenes, kiss, and cute post-game artwork more than do the work here.

One more thing... Traslida Highway: canonically this is where Alphen and Shionne build a house and live. Alphen clears out a huge boar zeugle to make future space for it. It's a lovely spot with little cobblestone walls and fields, with Viscint visible in the distance. It's around the corner from the ranch. I love it for them.

Character Quests

Everybody got some extra character quests! They were... fine.

Law and Rinwell have some cute moments, but unfortunately most of it is overshadowed by ship teasing that cheapens their characters. Law still can't avoid being overly teased by everyone, and it definitely grates after a while.

Shionne's was fine. It kind of established that she might love to sell and especially share donuts or other food someday, which is cute for her.

Alphen's was slightly interesting, having him reckon with his role as a hero to Dahnans and a destroyer to Renans, and have to face that he just needs to move past their expectations and do what he wants for himself. It wasn't super well handled, but I think the broad strokes are interesting and play well with his intrinsic kindness when they aren't about Nazamil.

The highlight is definitely Kisara and Dohalim. Not their character quests per se, which are alright, but in general in the DLC they have some really fun stuff going on.

Dohalim stepped up to lead Pelegion so somebody who isn't a huge asshole could be in charge, but he doesn't love it or want to do it forever. Meanwhile Kisara has been leading Viscint, but a handful of the Renans living there still respect Dohalim more and call him Lord Dohalim. So it can sometimes be a tricky dynamic for both of them.

They have this really fun, flirty close vibe. If they're not watching their words they admit constantly to knowing each other super well. They have extended metaphors around caring for each other's cities and people and what will happen when their obligations are met.

At one point, Dohalim pleadingly looks to Kisara and asks, "Will you someday call me Do again?" and she says more or less, "Yes, of course, but after things are better with our cities." Tease, tease.

My strongest interpretation remains that they slept together on that one night before base game endgame, but haven't really done anything together since. But like... they're gonna. Super fun dynamic.

A lot of larger main party interactions are cute in the DLC, when they're not being tainted by Nazamil coming first. Unfortunately that's not as common as I'd like.

Everyone is very pretty. Abuse the power of color changes on accessories; it's better than in other games.

Combat and Final Dungeon

Combat is fun because it's just an abbreviated part of the base game, basically.

The last dungeon is kinda super fun in parts, a little undercooked in others. The fire palace area was gorgeous and several of the staircase views are stunning. But the wind and water areas felt especially weak, and the light area was clearly cut entirely for content. It felt like a fun classic Tales EX dungeon for all of one section. Sigh.

In summary, future Liz, don't play the Beyond the Dawn DLC again, you just don't need to. The bad parts do not make the good parts worth it at all.

But, one final gift to you. If for some godforsaken reason you do play this DLC again, when you're done, go to the Berg Volcano for a final skit as the very, very last thing to do. It's a cute skit called "Beyond the Dawn." I like it as a final note very much.

[sweet-s0rr0w]

hello, might you have any excerpts to share, either something new or a beloved passage of an old fic?

Hello lovely kind person, and thank you so much for messaging me!! Now this ask was sent during the Great AO3 Outage which means that I am drastically late with it, and I am afraid I don't have anything to new share at present (I've just started working on a longfic, which if the stars align I might submit for a fest next summer, so I can't post an excerpt on here), BUT I was just talking to @sitp-recs about the three fics I've written this year, and how I think that I'm finally getting more comfortable at writing smut, so in celebration of that I'm going to offer up a porny little snippet from my Dronarry fest fic, Silhouettes.

(for context, the fic is established Ron/Harry)

“What,” Ron says to Draco, letting his chin rest on Harry’s shoulder, “have you changed your mind, then?”

Draco steps into the room, eyes flashing and – it’s amazing, Harry thinks, how well Ron understands Draco, how cleverly he lays down a challenge, appealing to Draco’s deep-rooted need for approval. Draco’s gaze meets Harry’s, lingering for a second, then drops lower – lighting on Ron’s hand, the covetous way it’s splayed across Harry’s stomach – then lower, and lower still.

“Fuck,” Draco breathes, and for a split second Harry wants to run, wants to cover himself – damn, it’s been so long – but Ron’s arm just tightens around him, holding him in place as though for Draco to drink his fill. Harry knows he’s blushing under the scrutiny, but he can feel his cock responding all the same.

“Undress him,” Ron tells Harry, nodding at Draco, who steps forwards wordlessly, unfolding his arms so Harry can comply. Harry’s hands feel heavy, his movements clumsy – and grow clumsier still when Ron begins toying with his nipples, one and then the other, tweaking them hard enough to make Harry cry out. Ron presses his body up tight against Harry’s, cock full and insistent against the small of Harry’s back, and now Harry’s dragging Draco’s belt from its loops, tossing it aside, desperate to get his hands back on Draco’s skin. The first brush of Harry’s fingers beneath his waistband has Draco jerking forwards, Harry’s cock smearing precome all over the front of his expensive trousers, and it’s too much already, Harry thinks, driven almost out of his mind, liquid want in Ron’s arms.

When he’s finished exposing the evidence of Draco’s desire, Harry reaches out, running a finger along his collarbone, pressing his hand over the flush that’s bleeding slowly down his torso. But when he leans forwards, eyes fixed on Draco’s lips once more, Ron’s hand is firm against his chest.

“On the bed, Malfoy,” Ron says.

“Sod off, Weasel,” Draco mumbles, but he obeys all the same, sprawling back atop their duvet: a tableau he’s well acquainted with, except this time Ron’s standing behind him, and Draco’s turning his face into Ron’s pillow, inhaling deeply, and it’s so fucking hot that Harry can hardly breathe.

“Now you,” Ron tells him, applying just a hint of pressure to the curve of Harry’s spine. He climbs onto the bed until Draco’s laid out beneath him, lean and elegant, uncharacteristically defenceless.

“Good idea, d’you reckon, Harry?” Ron says, joining them on the bed. His voice is teasing, pitched easily loud enough for Draco to hear, and Harry can only groan in response, mind a roaring confusion, leaning forwards to fan his hands out over Draco’s stomach.

[angelsaxis]

There's always that struggle I have with taking critiques with a grain of salt. I try to be understanding and I may put too much weight on someone else's perspective specifically because it's not mine. But you know. This one critiquer who frequently told me I lacked subtext. And the one time I apparently had achieved it in my writing was when Arvin and Tibe were arguing about trying to get the former to eat more, and Tibe asks Arvin who it was the decided his incredibly small meals are appropriate, implying that it was Arvins mom who controlled his meals (which was correct). And they were like "yes!!! Subtext!!!"

And I scratched my head. Because I've been doing that. Not through quotes as much but through body language and general behavior. Arvin is afraid of his mom and the first thought he has about Chima when he sees her is "she reminds me of my mother" and then he tries to avoid her for as long as possible. There's a double motive to every act of kindness tibe does for arvin. I don't say it out loud ofc bc I frankly. Don't think I need to.

"why does Arvin do X" because his ultimate goal in life is to please his mom "but why" she's abusive and controlling and she's isolated him socially for 18 years and controls everything from who he talks to to what he's even able to eat. He's 18 and he's never been anywhere without his mother and the first thing he hopes to ask for from his parents (his mother) is to travel on his own and his fear in that moment is that he'll be genuinely yelled at for eating dessert before dinner.

I'm not the best writer but I lay all of this out almost verbatim in the first chapter. First chapter. I don't like dialogue and I prefer distilled quotes to lengthy ones so perhaps this is why this person was insisting that I guess every character just says what's on their mind all the time? Supposedly? Even though they also don't do that? Like were they hoping that more of the characters would just lie or be passive aggressive or something (both of which people do). Like I'm so confused. Critiquers can say important and correct things but they also like to critique in a way where they're telling you what THEY like to see and this isn't the first and certainly won't be the last time I get a vague or incomplete critique from someone. Mind you this person could not figure out social ranking at ALL a common critique from them "why doesn't X character say (wildly inappropriate thing given social ranking an context and familiarity)" like girl come on. "Why does Arvins dad treat him like this" the man who's a distant alcoholic and serial cheater??? You're asking why that man isn't nice to his family????

"why is drei mean to arvin" oh the brother with the alcohol issues and the loyalty issues and the ego issues? Why isn't he perfectly nice to arvin 100% of the time? But then when Arvins aunt is nice to him that's a problem because now he's not learning. But also also when Drei actually does help Arvin in multiple present if subtle ways that just doesn't ping your radar. Make up your MIND.