#i personally plan to reply to as many chains as i can~ i have a lot of facts and characters id love to talk about and i LOVE to hear

[sand-seeks-sun]

Fact for fact!

I'm really interested in hearing about other's characters & I know how it can be a little hard to find a way to share little (or not so little) things you've written and considered for your characters, so let's share and solve both!

Reblog this with a WoL/OC fact you've been meaning or wanting to talk about more, and reply if you see a character or fact out in the replies that sparks your own ideas for sharing keep it rolling!

Together we could find a small group of specialty crafters, maybe a die-hard circle of hand-to-hand combat specialists - anything is possible, after all!

[serickswrites]

When in Rome

Warnings: capture, public humiliation, torture, restraints, whipping, blood, unconsciousness, bedside vigil, defiant whumpee

"I can be a kind and benevolent ruler," Whumper said as they circled their captives. "I think you will find I am a much better ruler than your former monarch."

Caretaker hated listening to this. Hated that they were all in chains while Whumper and their traitorous band walked free. But worst of all, they hated watching Whumpee struggle in the chains that had been thrown on all of them.

"The only thing you are capable of is evil," Whumpee hissed.

"You could give me a chance, Whumpee. If you give me a chance, if you bow, the others will follow suit. So many subjects have already pledged their loyalty."

"I'd rather die." Whumpee thrust their chin out.

"Whumpee, you were your former ruler's most trusted warrior. If you bend knee, needless violence will be avoided. Surrender and pledge fealty or you shall suffer greatly." Whumper's kind, gentle tone began to fray. Their true nature slowly eating away at the facade that Caretaker knew they were putting up.

"Death first!"

"That can be arranged." Whumper said with a sigh. "Tie them to the pole in front of the castle," they ordered one of their minions. "And take the others with you. I want everyone to see what happens when you do not conform to my law and order. What happens if you defy me."

Whumpee struggled valiantly against the many hands that grabbed them. Caretaker tried on their part, too. But it was to no avail. Whumper had too many followers at hand to fight. The rest of their squad was hauled along with them to the castle square.

"Whumpee, Whumpee, whatever they are planning is far worse than surrendering," Caretaker tried to reason with Whumpee. They could not stand to watch Whumper butcher Whumpee.

Whumpee shook their head, drawing themself up to their full height, head held proud. "If we give in we are complacent with whatever atrocities Whumper commits. The people need to see that some one is willing to stand up in the face of evil."

"You will be killed, Whumpee. Please," Caretaker tried again.

"Then that is the price I pay. I will not bend knee to evil. I will stand strong. Perhaps my death will be what one person needs to realize they must fight. That they can fight."

Caretaker opened their mouth to reply, but Whumpee was pulled away as the group reached the central square. A tall post had been erected in the center atop a tall dais. Whumpee was hauled roughly up the steps and chained with their arms above their head, back to the crowd.

"Citizens, gather round," Whumper said as they climbed the steps of the dais, "and see what it means to refuse me." Whumper held a whip in their hand. Caretaker's mouth went dry.

"I am a benevolent ruler," Whumper said as a hush fell over the crowd, "and I will give you one more chance, Whumpee. Swear fealty and you will be spared."

"I will never bow to you. No matter how much you hurt me, I will never bow before you." Whumpee spat at Whumper, their contempt and intentions clear.

"So be it, then. We will start with ten lashes and see how you feel." Whumper raised their arm and brought the whip down across Whumpee's back. Whumpee's skin split and flowed from the wound.

But they did not cry out.

With each crack of the whip, Caretaker flinched. With each crack of the whip the fearful faces of the crowd became more apparent. And with each crack of the whip, Whumpee's blood flowed, but they did not cry out.

After the tenth crack, Whumper stopped. "Anything you wish to say, Whumpee?"

"Fuck you," Whumpee said weakly.

With a growl, Whumper raised the whip again. "Such insolence shall not be tolerated."

Caretaker lost count of how many times Whumper brought the whip down. They lost count of how long Whumper whipped Whumpee after Whumpee went limp in the chains as they slipped into unconsciousness. They lost count of how many times they begged for Whumpee's life. Because they could only see Whumpee's limp, bloody body slumped over at the whipping post.

"Throw them in the dungeon with the rest of their squad. Offer them no aid. See if that's enough to change their mind," Whumper said when they finally grew tired of whipping Whumpee.

Caretaker didn't fight as they were dragged to the castle's dungeon. They watched in horror as two men grabbed Whumpee by the arms and roughly dragged them along to the dungeon. Whumpee didn't so much as groan or raise their head as they were dragged along.

"Whumpee, please, say something," Caretaker said as they were all tossed in the dungeon.

Whumpee had landed in a heap and hadn't made a sound. "Whumpee, please," Caretaker tried again. They weren't sure where they could touch Whumpee without causing further injury. They lowered themself to the ground next to Whumpee.

Whumpee's eyes were closed, but they were alive. Caretaker could hear their short, pained breaths as they got close to Whumpee. "Someone bring me some water from that bucket." Caretaker ordered. "We need to clean their wounds."

Whumpee didn't wake the whole time the squad cleaned and dressed their wounds. They didn't wake as the squad tried to lay them in a comfortable position gently. And they didn't wake as Caretaker stroked their face and murmured soft words to them.

Caretaker sat in the dark dungeon hoping Whumpee would wake soon. They stroked Whumpee's sweat soaked hair. "Please, Whumpee. Don't do this. Please, just wake up. We can come up with a plan. Please, Whumpee. Don't make us watch you die, too."

But still, Whumpee did not wake.

Tags: @mousepaw @jumpywhumpywriter @knightinbatteredarmor @hufflepuffwritingstuff2 @anightmarishwhump

@steh-lar-uh-nuhs @celestialsoyeon @st0rmm @ay5ksal @pedro-pedro-pedro-pedro-pe

[thefandomdirtymind]

How about opla!sanji being completely in love with the reader the moment he sees them?

It just hits him, bam, love at first sight. He plans to marry them kinda moment. Maybe they are in need of rescue or part of a rival crew.

A/N IMPORTANT:  Hi Anon ! Thank you for your request. I had so much fun writing it and playing with the idea of Sanji just planning his own wedding cake at the first of the reader. I assume by your use of Them that you wanted it gender neutral so I did my best and I hope you will like !

I though I knew love

OPLA - Vinsmoke Sanji x Reader Gender neutral (Them)

Sanji series : SFW Shiny Offering - NSFW The Small Favor - SFW The Mermaid Dream - SFW The Magic of a Kiss  - NSFW Casual

* English is not my first language, I tried really hard to correct myself but, I hope you will excuse me if some mistakes are still there.

---

Love is a strange thing. Leading you to have affection for a thing, a pet, a person, multiple people at once, maybe, one more that another or felt head over heels for somebody at first sight. 

Not that you could tell yourself. Your love life hadn’t nothing to be told if not the term “boring” was the best to describe it. You had ,of course, a certain attraction and affection for your previous partners, but in your experience, the big true love was only things existing in books and short stories. 

However,the last thing you wanted to think about right now was love. The chain retraining your wrist was starting to get itchy, the little drop of water falling from the ceiling every ten seconds slowly gave you headaches and you could smell it in the air. The crew of Marines had become a little bit more nervous since they brought you a new cell companion, an unconscientious pretty orange haired girl. Maybe she would become your key to escape that rat hole of a ship. 

As if your thought had summoned it, you suddenly heard the blast of cannon and the scream of an eminent battle. Your brain working at full speed, you immediately start to search for a way out of that damn cell. Never you will allow yourself to be caught again, neither by the marine ,who’s without no doubt will execute you, nor by those pirates. You didn’t escape the circus or Buggy to come back in this nightmare. You prefer to drown. 

Kicking the door as hard as you can, targeting the rusty corner of the keyhole you abruptly stop when you hear heavy footsteps in the stairs and a face you had hoped never see again. 

“ They finally caught you hm ? “ Zoro nagged you, taking a look at Nami who slowly was regaining consciousness. “ Welcome back, I'll get you out in a minute. I have to decide what we do with your little roommate here. ” 

“ I suggest you let me go and forget my existence. I did what I did because I was in debt with Buggy, go hunt him down instead “ You replied,already knowing that the pirate hunter wasn’t the kind to let you go so easily.

“ I could, or you could win your freedom. Fight me and I'll let you go “ He offered, opening the door, but still blocking you the way. 

—-

Sanji was right behind Zoro, clearing his part of the deck, kicking with all he had. Somewhere between a missing punch from a Marine and a successful attack of this part against a kneecap. He had nodded when his green hair crew member had informed him that he will go downstairs to help Nami. But, he hadn’t come back since and Sanji didn’t like it at all. How many times he will have to save the life of that ungrateful mosshead.

Getting down the stairs, the blond chef never passes the last step. What was in front of him was simply unreal.  

Sanji, though he knew love, had felt love before. But, as you succeed to push Zoro in a full blast, he realizes that he, in fact, never felt it that way. Seeing you still enchained, but still so beautifully strong, trying to defend  yourself as furiously as a tiger, with the only help of the loose chain of your restraints bracelet. Makes him feel as if he receives himself a punch in the guts. From somewhere he could hear the wedding bell and almost see the magnificent cake he will bake for the event.

Maybe a Lemon quatre-quart or a simple sponge vanilla cake with pieces of strawberry in it. Are roses will be too classic or a cascade of fresh tiger lily accros the cake would make it look to bold.

He sadly couldn’t finish his delicious pastry though. When, as in an attempt of escaping what could be a mortal blast, you enter in full collision with his body.  

As you try to get up, your eyes finally meet his. In the most stressful moment of your life, you feel yourself caught in the bluest gaze you've ever seen. And just like that, the idea of love at first sight didn’t seem to you like some literature mirage.   

“ Hello there “ Sanji smiled, laying under you, his head gently resting against a step, letting you free to decide your next move. Sure if you decided to step on him to break free, it would probably permanently break his heart, but if it would save your life, he will accept it gladly. 

“Hi…” You nervously replied, trying, and failing pathetically to not smile with him. 

“ Hey waiter, stay out of that ! The fight isn’t over come back here Y/N “ Zoro groan. 

“ In fact I think we should all get out of here “ Nami declared, as a boom and a big crash came from upstairs.

Finally untangle yourself from the blond man, still on your guard in front of Zoro, but unable to snatch your gaze of Sanji. You nod of the head and proceed to get up the stairs. 

The whole ship was a mess, every Marines on the deck was unconscious, the mainmast was down and as you can see, the only person still standing was a way too joyful young man wearing a straw hat.

“ Hey ! Did you find another crew member !? “ He asked, like if you aren’t still unchained and clearly under the dark gaze of Zoro. 

“ More like a lot of Berries in warrant “ The young swordsman replied. 

“ We can’t collect a warrant while being yourself a pirate Zoro and you had to admit it was a great fight you had. “ Nami contributed, offering you a smile. “ I was mostly unconscious but I heard you had escaped from Buggy, we are different, we could need your help in our crew.”  

“ I will gladly welcome them in the crew if they want to join, “ Sanji answered, smiling at you, a tenderness you hadn’t fully understood in his eyes. “ I can’t wait to cook you your favorite meal.”   

“ Well, I...if Zoro will not kill me in my sleep I guess that I will stick with you for a while. “ You answered, curious to discover the meaning of this strange feeling you felt earlier with the tall blond. And the woman, Nami, seems right. Even in the clown crew, you hadn’t seen nothing like their good chemistry.  

“ Whatever “ The ex-pirate hunter mumbled, clearly not happy but ready to follow ,what you surprisingly guess, is his captain.  

“ Yahoo !  I’m Monkey D. Luffy, we are the straw hat crew and I will be King of the Pirate ! Let’s get back to the ship, those handcuffs would be really uncomfortable ! “

—

Later that night, free of your chain and well fed for the first time in a while, you stay a little longer in the kitchen. 

Sitting at the table, the soft noise of Sanji cooking and the waves crashing against the hull . You absently dried the table knife you were previously cleaning. 

“ Y/N can you try those and tell me which you prefer ?” Sanji gently asked you, putting in front of you two slices of cake. 

A lemon quatre -quart and a vanilla sponge cake with strawberry pieces. 

At first surprise, you gave them a try, not sure of the last time you had cake. 

“ I can’t choose…They are both delicious ! “ You answered, finishing both slices. “ What is it for ?” 

“ Oh it’s for an event I plan for the future…” He simply replied, taking away the empty plates. “When we will be ready”

You didn’t know exactly why, maybe it was his soft smile when he was talking about that mysterious future plan or the gaze he was laying on you. But you couldn’t help yourself to feel your cheeks warming up a little, excited to discover more about that plan and which role you will play in it.

[zepskies]

Miss Professor

Pairing: Jason Teague x F. Reader

(Love triangle: Jason T. x Lana Lang)

Summary: Jason has to make a decision. You, or Lana Lang.

AN: Here’s the sequel to “Assistant Hottie.” Hope you enjoy!

Song Inspo: “Look at You” by Screaming Trees

Word Count: 5,200 Tags/Warnings: Angst, love triangle, hurt/comfort, fluff and a tinge of spice.~

Jason finds you in the bowels of the university library.

Out of four giant floors of books and computer labs at Central Kansas A&M (CKM), they just had to put the Writing Center in the non-proverbial basement. There you have to wear at least two layers at all times, despite the late-spring swelter outside.

Like now, when he enters the Writing Center lobby and finds you at your desk, tapping your red pen on your lip as you work on revising an essay. Jason smiles at the sight of your fuzzy red and green sweater over your jeans and ankle boots.

“You know, Christmas came and went, like, five months ago,” he teases.

You glance up at him as he steals a chair from your coworker’s desk. She’s conveniently been on break…for two hours now. Leaving you with a mildly enormous stack of essays to edit and leave feedback on.

“Yeah well, I’m running out of winterwear. It’s almost summer, for God’s sake,” you grouse. And yet, you shiver when another pass of the AC vent above your head hits your back.

Jason smiles, but he also shrugs off his jacket and drapes it around your frame. It’s lighter than what you’re wearing, but he hopes the added layer helps. You can’t help smiling up at him, though your brows end up furrowing.

“Oh, don’t do that, you’re gonna be freezing,” you protest. You try to take off the jacket, but Jason stops you by wrapping it snugly around your shoulders.

“It’s okay, I don’t plan on being here that long,” he replies.

You raise a brow. “Oh really?”

Jason grins. “You’ve got my British Lit. paper, right?”

You narrow your eyes at him, with a light grumble. “Some friendship this is. You only come to see me when you want something.”

Jason mock frowns at that accusation, but he plies you with raised brows and waggling “gimme” fingers until you relent. You reach back into your files with a sigh and hand him his ten-page essay, complete with your revisions and suggestions for the final draft.

“Here you go, freeloader,” you quip.

“Many thanks, Miss Professor,” Jason rejoins.

The nickname always manages to make your face warm a bit, no matter how you try to stamp down the butterflies in your stomach. It doesn’t help when he smiles at you like that.

His glinting green eyes soon dim, however, as he takes in the sheer amount of red marking up the pages of his essay. All 10 pages.

“Damn, woman. Was it that bad?” he asks.

“You’re actually getting better,” you say with a smile. “I’m seeing signs of improvement.”

Jason continues to flip through with a frown. “Right.”

Though when he actually starts reading your revisions, the familiar slopes of your handwriting, his disappointment begins to relent. You’ve made corrections here and there, but you’ve also written a lot of encouragements in the margins, like, “Good use of the word ‘solidarity.’”

And, “This whole paragraph perfectly explains your point. Just add a transition into the next section and you’re golden.”

Not to mention his personal favorite: correcting his typo on eggzagerate, and drawing a doodle of a fried egg above it. He doesn’t think you do that for all your customers. 

It makes him smile.

Though he looks up when he hears you yawn. You try to stifle it, but he can see clearly now that you’re tired. It’s almost 9 p.m.

“How long have you been working?” he asks.

“Since I got out of my last class at 5,” you admit. Finally, you spot your coworker coming back from her break (and she’s still on the phone, chatting away to her boyfriend).

“Have you even eaten dinner?” Jason asks.

You shake your head, with a pointed glare at your coworker. “No time. I’ve been chained to this place all night.”

The girl gives you a fake smile when she returns to her desk and grabs one of the thinnest essays from the pile. After shooting her one last narrowed look, you give Jason your full attention. He’s trying to temper his smirk.

“Come on,” he says, nudging your arm. “Let me treat you to the Central Kansas delicacy of Chicken Finger Friday.”

You laugh at that; the university food court leaves much to be desired. You still have plenty of work to do, but you’re willing to push it off until tomorrow and take him up on his offer, if it means a hot meal and spending some time with your friend. It’s been a few weeks since it’s been just the two of you, hanging out.

After grabbing your backpack and clocking out for the night, you and Jason walk together across campus. The evening air is warm. It begins to defrost you as you two venture down the sidewalk. You smile to yourself and playfully bump into his side.

Jason shoots you a grin and bumps you back, though he grabs your arm when the heel of your boot catches on the edge of the sidewalk. You both fumble a bit and laugh.

You tuck a wily strand of hair behind your ear. Part of you wants to ask what he’s doing this weekend. Maybe he’d want to go to the lake with you, hang out on the dock, or go for a swim…

But of course, that’s when his phone buzzes. He fishes it out of his pocket and his brows raise. The text is from Lana, asking him if he can come to the Talon.

I really need your help with something.

Jason lets out a breath and looks up at you apologetically.

You know that look.

“Your girlfriend?” you ask, trying not to sound too disappointed.

Jason nods. “I hate to do this to you, but we’ve both been so busy, I haven’t seen her all week.”

And this is the first time this week that Lana has reached out to him first, wanting to see him… Well, she’s also asking for a favor, but she wants to see him.

“You know, one of these days I’d love to meet this mysterious girl,” you remark, lightly shoving his arm.

Jason smiles, but inside he’s clamming up. For obvious reasons, he hasn’t told you that he’s dating Lana Lang. Though it doesn’t make it easy to keep it from you, to lie to you. Over the course of the school year, you’ve become one of his closest friends here in Smallville.

You encourage him to explore his interests and keep focused in school, and you’ve often been a listening ear whenever juggling his classes and helping to coach the Smallville High football team stress him out.

And he’s done the same for you. With your time split between being a teacher's aid at Smallville High and working in the Writing Center to make ends meet between classes, you've done your share of venting, sometimes through frustrated tears. Jason's been more than willing to provide a strong shoulder to lean on.

Now, you don’t know that dating Lana is part of his stress, but he just…can’t afford to tell you.

It doesn’t matter that Lana’s 18, and he met her months before he took this coaching job. This is a small town, and he knows how people will talk if word gets out that he’s dating a high school senior. Not to mention, he’d get very fired.

“I’m sorry,” he says to you. “This seems important.”

Again, you have to hide your disappointment when you smile at him. “It’s okay. I should probably get back to work anyway—”

“Uh-uh. No,” Jason says, grabbing your arm when you start to turn in the direction of the Writing Center. "You’re done for the night. I wanna see you marching full-speed for those dry-ass chicken tenders.”

He nods toward the campus food court, making you expel a sigh.

“If I must,” you lament.

“And you’d better not keep working on your laptop,” he warns. “If you so much as crack open that Mac, I’ll know.”

He levels a finger at you as he walks away. You roll your eyes and head to the food court, with the promise of food just beyond the glass doors. 

After a moment, you chance looking back at Jason. He catches your gaze, and he points two fingers from his eyes to your face in stern warning. 

You giggle and shake your head at him, but you keep walking toward the food court. 

Jason smirks in satisfaction. He continues on to the parking lot, and to his car.

When Jason gets to the Talon, he crosses paths with Clark, who’s just walking out. 

“Hey, man,” Jason greets, with a jovial pat on the younger man’s shoulder. Though he can’t help but wonder why the guy is here at this time of night. “Little late for a coffee fix, huh?”

“Hey, Coach T,” Clark smiles. “Could say the same about you.”

Jason blinks at that. He cards a hand through his short hair and laughs it off. “Yeah, I was in the mood for a slice of your mom’s coffee cake. Any left?”

Martha Kent supplied the Talon with its baked goods, and they were most certainly worth driving across town for. It’s a pretty good excuse, if he says so himself.

Clark nods. “Yeah, should be.”

“All right. G'night,” Jason says. Clark nods and waves goodbye before he heads to his red truck in the parking lot. 

Jason shakes his head and steps into the coffee shop, where he finds Lana alone. She’s cleaning up a large takeout bag from Gino’s, the Italian restaurant across the street. He silently takes note of it, but doesn’t yet comment when he kisses his girlfriend in greeting.

“Why’d you send up the Bat Signal on this fine Friday night?” he asks, wrapping her in his arms.

Lana smiles up at him. “Well, I’m probably going to be slammed all weekend with the shop, but I’ve got this huge speech for class on Monday and was hoping you’d help me practice.”

She pulls those doe-like hazel eyes on him, and Jason’s almost captured by them. This time, he lets out a small sigh.

“You know I’m always down to help you out. Always. But you know, we haven’t just hung out in a while now,” he points out.

Lana concedes to that with an incline of her head, but she still eases out of his arms to finish cleaning up.

“Yeah, I’ve just been really busy,” she says.

“I have too,” Jason replies. “But even with my crazy schedule, going back and forth from campus, don't I still make time for you?”

Case in point, he was willing to come out to her on the drop of a hat, late at night, and on the crunch week before his final exams. But he would be hard-pressed to remember a time when Lana went out of her way to see him.

Lana pauses, casting him a frown. "I'm trying my best, Jason. You know I'm graduating in a few weeks. Everything's ramped up to 11 this year."

Yeah, I know the feeling, Jason thinks, but after a moment, he caves with a nod, even though his gaze lingers on the Gino's bag.

“Have you eaten?” he tests. “Let me get us some takeout.”

He almost said, Let me take you out, somewhere nice. But he hadn’t been able to do that since before he got to Smallville. He’s beginning to wonder if he ever will again.

“Oh,” Lana says. Her eyes avert from his as she wipes down a table. “I already ate.”

Jason draws closer to her and dips his chin in order to catch her gaze. Eventually, she pauses and glances up at him.

“With Clark?” he asks.

Lana tightens up, just as he predicted. “Why would you say that?”

“I saw him when I came in,” Jason replies. He tilts his head at Lana, who never used to be a good liar. But ever since they had to start hiding their relationship, he’s noticed how good she also hides her thoughts and feelings around other people…maybe even to herself.

“Yeah,” she breathes. “He was here. But we were studying for finals, and we got hungry. That’s it.”

Jason shakes his head, but she grabs his hand with both of hers. He looks down at her tan, slender hands, and can’t help but be drawn back to her beautiful face.

“It’s not a big deal,” she says, as if that can dismiss the churning in his gut.

“Listen,” he says, rubbing at his face. “I know I’ve asked you this before, and I’m sorry but…do you still have feelings for him?”

“No,” she refutes, “I’m with you, Jason. How many times do I have to prove that this is what I want?”

She seems so annoyed and vehement that Jason has to believe her. He wants to, so badly.

Maybe too much.

The last straw comes just two weeks before the end of spring semester—with the coming of senior prom. Jason knows he can’t ask Lana, but she assured him that she wasn’t going. 

He has a late class that night, but afterwards, he promised to pick her up and get dinner together in Metropolis. A nice date, a long-ass way out of town, so they’re unlikely to be recognized.

On the Friday evening, just hours before a high school dance, you and Jason sit together in the one class you have together: Introduction to Mass Media. 

It only meets once a week, for three hours. Technically it’s an elective for both of you, but you’d told Jason to pick any class outside of his major that he was interested in. Anything to broaden his horizons, and you promised to join him. For some reason, he chose this one. 

He thought it would be easy. Just a study of pop. culture stuff, with a mix of social media, maybe a dash of sports, if he was lucky. He’d actually been surprised with how much he was enjoying the segments on videography and broadcast journalism. 

Right now, however, he's distracted. You can certainly tell, the way he keeps checking his phone.

“What’s wrong?” you lean over and ask in a whisper. He knows how anal Professor Jones is about cell phones in class. The man had a “contraband bucket” to collect them in, if he caught a student using one.

“Just letting my girlfriend know I’m gonna be a bit late,” Jason grumbles, though he’s looking at the screen. “Jones is droning on past the eternity mark, as usual.”

A man clears his throat above you and Jason. You both look up and meet the flat gaze of Professor Jones. He shakes the bucket in his hand with an arched brow. Already there's about three contraband phones inside.

Jason gives a wan smile. “Come on, Professor. We were supposed to be outta here 20 minutes ago anyway.”

The lines in Professor Jones’s face betrays one simple truth: he doesn’t give a shit.

“Bucket, Mr. Teague,” he says.

Jason’s lips press in irritation, but he’s forced to drop his phone into the waiting bucket. He doesn’t see two mixed text messages from his girlfriend.

You lay a comforting hand on Jason’s arm. “I’m sure she’ll understand.”

By the time Jason gets to the Talon, the lights are dark and Lana’s not home. Suspicion creeps in, making him feel a little crazy. 

He decides to get back into his car and drive down to Smallville High. There the gym is decked out to the nines in some kind of underwater theme. It reminds him of his own senior prom a couple of years ago, complete with the punch bowl and cheesy snacks. 

But soon enough, the nostalgia comes to a screeching halt.

A familiar ballad croons from the band on the stage.

"And how can I stand here with you, and not be moved by you? ...Would you tell me how could it be any better than this?"

He sees Lana on the dance floor, wearing one of the most beautiful dresses he’s ever seen. And she’s in the arms of one Clark Kent. 

Jason's never hated Lifehouse so much.

On Saturday morning, before the Talon even opens, Lana opens the door to Jason while still wearing her robe.

“Hey!” she says, with wide eyes, though she lets him in.

“You seem real surprised,” Jason notes.

“Yeah, I mean, it’s early for you on a Saturday,” Lana remarks with a short laugh. But she still leans up to kiss him. She only manages to get his cheek, since he doesn’t bend down to meet her like he usually would.

She frowns. “Is something wrong?”

Jason doesn’t answer at first. The words are stuck in his throat. He gestures for them to move away from the glass doors, where anyone can peek in. So they travel up to her bedroom and close the door.

It’s not the first time he’s been in her room, though not much has ever happened on her bed. He’s waited completely on her signals for that one. Though now, he’s actually kind of grateful that their relationship has never progressed that far. It makes what he’s about to do easier.

“Where were you last night?” he asks. He figures they’d better start there.

“I tried calling you,” he adds, when Lana doesn’t immediately offer a reply.

“Well, I didn’t hear from you. I figured you were busy with your classes, so…I went to prom by myself,” she says.

Jason sighs. “You didn’t seem all that lonely.”

Her eyes widen. “What?”

Her confusion looks so real. A perfect face, and a damn near perfect lie.

“Look, I saw you and Clark on that dance floor,” Jason finally says. “Wasn't that just the perfect Hallmark moment?”

“Jason…” Lana finally starts to break. She doesn’t want to admit what’s broken, her gaze falling to the floor.

“No, let me say this,” he says. “Lana, I really put my all into this. I did whatever I could to be with you. To love you, to protect you. But in your heart, I think somewhere down the line you decided you don’t want that to be me.”

Lana’s eyes flood with tears, but she doesn’t deny it. 

“I think it’s time to really call it quits this time,” Jason says, “for both our sakes.”

He can’t help but reach out to her. His thumb brushes her cheek. Lana’s watery gaze meets his as her lower lip wobbles. She grabs his hand.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” she confesses.

He won’t say it’s okay, but he accepts that with a nod, and he kisses her cheek. 

It’s a goodbye that’s meant to last.

Once he’s back in the relative safety of his car, Jason lets out a deep breath. He grabs his phone from his pocket on some unspoken urge; in that moment, he needs something. Someone.

He needs you.

You answer on the third ring, sounding sleepy on your day off.

“You’d better be on fire,” you say. Jason smiles at the sound of your grumpy voice.

“Hey,” he laughs a little, though he's surprised that it comes so easily. “You doing anything right now?”

“Besides sleeping?” you toss back. “…No. Not really. My life is boring.”

“Boring sounds nice right about now,” Jason says, more seriously than he meant to. “Wanna take a drive or something?”

You hesitate, just for a moment. Then your voice greets him again.

“Let’s go.”

When Jason arrives at your house, you come out to meet him. He gets out of his car, and already he looks wrong. He looks drained of all energy.

“What’s wrong?” you ask in concern, grabbing his arm when you’re close enough. His eyes find yours.

“We broke up,” he says.

It takes your brain a second or two to compute. (You’ve just finished your first cup of coffee, after all.) But then, you’re moving to wrap your arms around his neck in the tightest, warmest hug you can give.

He holds you back for a while, and you relish in the feeling of his hands smoothing around your back and pulling you in close. His chin tucks on your shoulder, and you rub his back.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly.

He hums in response. Sometimes, what is just is.

He lets you drive him out to the lake near your house, in your beat up Volvo. This lake is your favorite place in the world, you tell him, as you two sit side-by-side on the dock. Your sneaker-clad feet dangle over the edge, next to his longer legs.

“So far,” he corrects. “There’s a whole lot of world out there.”

You smile. “Yeah, you gonna show me? Got a magic carpet tucked in your dorm somewhere?”

Jason laughs, and you’re grateful to see his smile so soon.

“Yeah, along with a dusty-ass lamp,” he says.

You smile, but you tilt your head at him. “Are you okay?”

Jason’s grin slips a little. “Yeah, I think so…is that bad?”

You bite your lip. “Depends. What was her name? I don’t think you even told me.”

Jason turns to you, and he sighs deeply. It takes him a moment, but he eventually answers while looking you in the eyes.

“Lana Lang,” he says.

The name rings a bell…and as it comes to you, it blares like a foghorn. Your eyes widen and your mouth falls open in shock.

“J-Jason…she’s a student,” you stammer. “Not like, us students. Like—”

“I know. We met before I got the coaching job,” Jason explains quickly, before you can blow up at him. 

He can see you’re freaking out, trying to contain your reaction with a hand over your mouth. But the more he explains, the more you withdraw into a simmering silence. He can tell, however, that you don’t know how to feel about it. 

“Do you regret it?” you ask.

It’s not the first thing he thought you would say, but it’s very you all the same.

“Well, being outmaneuvered by my own quarterback stings like a bitch, but I still think I’m better looking,” Jason jokes. Because that’s what he does when he’s uncomfortable.

Too bad that was the wrong answer.

You roll your eyes with a disgusted huff, and you pull yourself up onto your feet. You start to leave him there at the dock, but Jason hops up as well and grabs your hand.

“Hey, wait,” he implores. “Look, I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. It was just…easier.”

“Why, because you didn’t trust me?” you challenge. “Or because you felt guilty about what you were doing?”

The truth is, Jason doesn’t feel guilty. Not for his relationship.

“I was trying to protect her reputation,” he says. “I know how smalltown people think. She’d be the talk of the damn town. And for what? Because we’re two years apart?”

“And I’m smalltown, is that it? I’m sorry I’m not as evolved as you, Mr. Metropolis,” you snark. “Forgive me for being a lowly country bumpkin with some morals.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Jason says with an angry frown, throwing up his hands in frustration.

You shake your head at him and start booking it towards your car.

Jason follows. “You know you can’t leave me out here, right?”

“Just get in the car, before I change my mind!”

He obliges you, and it’s a painful ride back to your house. He really can’t believe you’re being like this. It’s the first real argument he’s ever had with you. He knew you might get upset, but he did think you’d be a little more understanding…

“Look, we met in Paris last summer,” he admits. And a hint more vulnerable, “I just…couldn’t help but fall for her.”

“I get it, Jason,” you reply. Your voice is flat. 

“Just please don’t tell anyone,” he asks. “We’re done. She’s about to graduate.”

As mad as you are at him for lying to you, you begrudgingly see his point. You can also start to understand why he didn’t tell you. 

But, regardless of how you feel, you don’t want him to lose his job. You know it’s the only way he can afford college.

“I wouldn’t do that to you,” you say, before you can reign yourself in.

Jason turns to you with a hint of a smile. “Thank you.”

It’s still awkward when you two get to your house. He turns to you, like he wants to say something that’ll most likely soften you. 

You’re not ready for that. 

So you kill the engine and get out of the car without looking at him. Jason takes the hint; he doesn’t say another word to you when he gets into his car and peels away.

The next weeks that follow are hard for Jason. As a member of the staff, he’s forced to go to Smallville High’s graduating ceremony.

He watches Clark and Lana graduate together with the rest of their friends. The two of them hug after she gets off stage, looking at one another with a moment of blushing smiles. It’s an inevitable look.

It makes Jason feel sick. He leaves as soon as he can, going back to languish in his dorm room. He lays on his bed over the covers with his hands folded over his stomach and his eyes closed.

He thinks about you. 

He can see you in his mind’s eye, with a pen balanced between your teeth and your hair falling over to brush the pages you pour over.

He sees your fuzzy green sweater. Your smile. The shade of your hair, your eyes, your laugh, your furrowed look when you’re concentrating hard on revising a sentence.

The more he sees, the more he wants to call you. To hear your voice, even if you're just going to yell at him. 

Jason sighs. He sits up in bed and has a thought that soon takes hold of his body, and has him swinging his legs over the edge of his bed and pulling his backpack closer.

He pulls out a folder for one of his classes and finds an essay you revised. His eyes scan over the encouragements you’ve left in the margins, along with the stray doodles. They still make him smile.

And it reminds him of the first note you ever gave him, which he keeps tucked in a small drawer in his desk. He tosses the folder onto his bed and goes to that drawer, where he finds your hastily written haiku.

Assistant Hottie

You flatter me, see through me

Smarter than he thinks.

You don’t know that those words have kept his head above water in times where he’s wanted to quit school.

Or even worse, in those times when he’s wanted to go to his father, tail between his legs, to ask for money and a job doing anything easy.

So now, Jason realizes that he needs to make another decision.

He gets out of bed, and he goes to see you.

Jason travels down to the basement of the CKM library, to the Writing Center, where you’re sitting at your desk as always on a Thursday night. You have a pile of essays stacked high next to you, and your forehead is wrinkled while you read a problematic passage.

The smell of coffee makes you look up first, before you realize who brought it. Your eyes widen at seeing Jason, along with his small smile and peace offering.

“Hey,” he says.

His voice washes over you, his eyes that always manage to disarm you, even now.

Despite your better judgment, you take the coffee from him and revel at its warmth. It has to be 60 degrees in this damn room (you’re one step shy of bringing your winter gloves next time).

You sip at the coffee and hum in delight at the taste of caramel and cinnamon—a combination that only your family, and Jason, would know you loved.

Your gaze flits up to his, more begrudging as you sigh.

“What can I do for you, Mr. Teague?” you ask.

Jason grins and takes your coworker’s empty chair to sit across from you.

“I’ve got a little haiku for you,” he says, handing you a folded piece of paper. You eye him in confusion, but you set down the coffee on your desk and take his second offering. You unfold it and read something that genuinely takes you by surprise.

Hey, Miss Professor

I’ve got a question for you…

Want to get dinner?

You can’t help but laugh. It’s most definitely not a haiku, but you also know that it’s his best shot. His smile is sheepish, making yours deepen. 

“So, what’s your answer?” he asks. 

You glance down at the page, then back at him. You bite your lip, and your heart clenches. Is this it? you wonder. Is he asking you out, for real? You can’t quite tell what he’s thinking. 

“What kind of dinner?” you ask.

Jason’s grin fades. “What do you mean?”

“Is this our normal kind, where we roll out like we’re Thelma and Louise?” you ask, making him snort. “Or is this the kind where I need to change out of my dirty sneakers and brush my hair?”

He shrugs; his amused grin is back. “I mean, however I get you is all right by me.”

You nearly utter another sigh, but Jason surprises you yet again—by grabbing your hand. 

“But, uh…I’d like this to be the kind of dinner where we try something new,” he says, licking his dry lips. He looks a bit uncertain, you think, hiding the fear of rejection. “Maybe you’ll let me do my Cary Grant impression and get you some flowers. Box of chocolates.”

The corner of your mouth twitches. “Chocolates?”

“Whatever it takes,” he says. His tone is joking, but he seems serious. You know him well enough by now to spot the difference.

“Whatever it takes, huh?” you ask.

Jason’s hand tightens on yours, but his eyes never leave you. He really is serious, and it makes your heart stutter and trill with warmth. It feels a lot like hope.

He leans in, his head bowing towards yours…but you lay a hand against his chest.

It stops him, until your fingers curl into his shirt.

Your gaze slowly meets his.

When he reaches for your cheek, this time you let him pull you in. 

His kiss is sudden, but it’s still a gentle test. You take in a deep breath through your nose as your eyes fall closed. You press your lips against his, answering him. His fingers slide into your hair and drag down the back of your neck. It makes you shudder and tug him even closer by his shirt. 

Jason’s solution is gathering you into his lap, where you take his face with both hands and kiss him with unfettered passion. The locked doors of your heart are swinging open, and it’s a sweet relief to be honest with each swipe of your tongue against his. 

He’s gripping your hip, his fingers pressing into your thigh, while the other hand supports your lower back and presses you flush against him. As the kiss slows, so does your hand in his hair, more soothing now than gripping. 

When your lips eventually draw apart from his, it’s with panting breaths. You stare into his eyes, as yours brim with relieved tears. You touch his cheek.

“I better not be a rebound,” you warn him. “I can’t take that, Jase.”

Jason shakes his head, holding you a fraction tighter. “No, believe me. That's the last thing you are."

You bite your lip, and he encourages you to release it with his thumb brushing across your lower lip. You've been on his mind longer than he can readily admit. Since the first day he met you.

"I know I haven't made it easy, but will you trust me on this?” he asks. "I really wanna do this right with you."

It takes you a moment to decide, but you do. You trust him.

So you nod and brush your fingers along the apple of his cheek. 

“Okay,” you concede. "Let's do this."

Jason grins. “Oh, thank God.”

You giggle softly and hide your face in his neck. His chest shakes with a chuckle as he holds you back. It feels very right to hold you, he thinks.

Just as it's a relief for you to finally be in his arms.

“Where d’you wanna go for dinner?” he asks.

You laugh, a bit giddy as you cling to him and thread your fingers in his golden hair.  

“I don’t give a damn.”

AN: Haha, I hope you liked this! ❤️ These one-shots are kind of AU, in that I don't get into the Stones of Power arc of S4 just for simplicity's sake.

I do have one more one-shot idea rolling around in my head for these two...the reader meeting Jason's infamous mother lol (Genevieve Teague, played by the fabulous Jane Seymour)!

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[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART]

I got a good streaks of one chapter a day, so why not keep it going lol (I'm just getting through the chapters I have a thorough plan of. The farther I go the less I know, so I'm sure chapters will slow down by then lmao)

Gaz has been jumping on the balls of his feet, hovering for a second too long to be natural, and falling back down for what feels like hours now. Ghost would’ve chained him to a boulder if Price didn’t read his mind and started staring daggers at him a couple of minutes ago.

They’ve been here long enough that inky, dark fingers started grasping at Ghost’s shoes. He steps on another pesky bastard while sighing.

The victims of Limbo enjoy fucking with him, as always.

Despite how annoyed he appears to be, Ghost too would’ve been jumping in excitement all over the tarmac if he didn’t have a reputation to uphold. Any minute now they will spot the helo carrying Sergeant Soap MacTavish, and Ghost will finally meet him again after 6 months, 3 weeks, and 4 days. Not that he’s been counting.

Price has cleared them of morning duties, to “properly welcome the Sergeant”, in his words. In a passing thought Ghost got a glimpse that the Captain has much more planned for today, but the old man wants to keep his secrets.

His train of thought swerves and crashes when he spots a helo closing in on the base. The Sergeant is here.

The moment the ramp lowers and Ghost locks eyes with Soap, something grabs at his heart and squeezes. Whatever it is doesn’t let up when the Sergeant’s face lights up, and he smiles so brightly, Ghost is momentarily blinded.

“Sergeant MacTavish”, Price greets out loud, “I hope the flight from Alaska wasn’t too long.”

Soap drags a hand through his messed warhawk, “Aye, nine hours well spent”, he chuckles.

“You’ve already met Lieutenant Ghost,” Price motions at him, “and this is Sergeant Garrick”, Gaz steps up to clap Soap’s left shoulder. Ghost notices he winces slightly and narrows his eyes.

“Glad to finally meet you mate”, Gaz grins. 

“Likewise, I hope to be of use”, Soap replies.

Soap turns his head towards Ghost, and his features soften, “It’s good to see you Ghost. You’ve been doing well?”

Who cares how he’s been doing before? He grunts a vague affirmative before Price saves them from what he’s sure would’ve been a train wreck of a conversation. Talking for the sake of talking isn’t something Ghost prefers to practice.

“Now”, Price claps his hands, “we’ve got a busy day ahead of us, so”, he turns to Gaz, “I want you to show Soap to his room and around the base. Meet us at 1200 on the revenant training grounds.”

“Copy that, c’mon Soap”, Gaz wraps a hand around Soap’s shoulders and grabs his bag. Before Soap can protest, he shows him that it practically weighs nothing in his hands.

Already showing off his powers, as expected…

“Ghost”, Price’s voice echoes in his head. “We’re going to have a little demonstration of power for the Sergeant.” he side-eyes him, “I got clearance for you too.”

Ghost knows his surprise must be coming off in waves for Price. He hasn’t been able to use his powers since his last solo mission, and on base it might’ve been years since he’s been able to train.

He feels the familiar thrum of Limbo calling him. It would be redundant to call his powers a double-edged sword, but one of its many disadvantages is the fact he can’t train them consistently, in a controlled environment. There’s a reason he needs special clearance from the higher brass to use them, even on hostile grounds, if there’s a single extra person in his squad.

Ghost is sure the smile on his face would be unsettling, if his skull mask wasn’t in place.

The revenant training grounds are basically a glorified junkyard, in Ghost’s honest opinion. The few other revenants on base are in intelligence or medical, and so only the 141 members use it.

And by 141 members, he means only Gaz, since Price’s powers aren’t physical and Ghost’s are held by the tight leash of higher ups.

The grounds are filled with various shipment containers, wrecked cars and trucks, and concrete blocks. Ghost and Price are currently in the defunct watchtower that overlooks the grounds, watching the two Sergeants walk in.

Ghost keeps a close eye on Soap, but he doesn’t seem broken like that earlier reaction suggests. He does note that he hasn’t seen the Sergeant use his left arm at all.

“About time the muppets showed up”, Prices mutters next to him. Ghost huffs.

“Captain! Sorry for the delay, some recruits were interested in our new Sergeant!” Gaz shouts from across the field. Soap has the decency to look sheepish.

Sighing, Price tells Ghost “we’ll start with mine, get the lad used to the new voice in his head, eh?”

Ghost can tell Price is thrilled to introduce Soap to his powers.

“Alright Sergeants, we will start with a small demonstration of Gaz’s powers, then yours, and if you managed to not die again, Ghost will give you a small peek of his.”

Ghost has the urge to roll his eyes. Both of them know Ghost’s powers don’t manifest in “small peeks”.

He amusingly watches Soap turn around and search for the source of Price’s voice. He remembers how confusing it was at first, but soon enough Price’s voice became an almost comforting presence in his own mind. As comforting as it is infuriating.

Gaz laughs at Soap and appears to explain to the poor lad that he’s not losing his mind, before shoving him away to let him start his demonstration. Soap barely climbs into the watchtower before Gaz starts making vehicles lift into the sky like balloons.

Soap finds a spot near Ghost and gapes at the display of power. The several tons of mangled metal fall down soon enough, when Garrick moves on to the shipment containers strewn across the grounds.

Gaz’s original fate, of being crushed by the helicopter he fell out of when it got hit by an RPG, granted him the ability to essentially reverse the gravity on himself and anything he touches. His only limit is the required physical contact, otherwise he could lift an entire city if it was detached from the ground.

The Spiritulogists (idiots that try to explain their unexplainable powers), had theories that with enough concentration, Gaz could reverse the gravity of the entire planet, and possibly end all life known on planet earth. Ghost has doubts the Sergeant will ever have a change of heart big enough to want that, though.

Besides, Gaz doesn’t use his powers to kill. What is lethal about the man is his ability to snipe you from somewhere no one ever expects - the sky.

The floating Sergeant is now looking down at the destruction he created around him, and Price turns to Soap and asks, “Well? Think you could work with that?”

The Sergeant is lost in thought for a moment, and Price’s expression becomes intrigued by whatever he sees in his head. The two share a look, and Soap wordlessly starts climbing down to the training grounds.

“What did he say?” Ghost asks Price, unwilling to let the Captain leave him in the dark.

“Kid’s got a couple ideas, but I keep feeling… doubts from him.”

“About joining the taskforce?” is Soap regretting his transfer?

“No…” Price continues slowly, “about matching any of our powers…”

Soap’s uncertainty grew by each step he took around the grounds, Ghost didn’t need to read his mind to tell. He nervously looked around at the junk, flames glowing and ebbing between his fingertips.

Gaz Joined them a short while ago, sitting precariously on the railing.

Price mumbles “can’t read him anymore”, before shouting “you’re welcome to start Soap! Don’t hold back!”

As any of their powers have, Price’s disadvantage is range. The farther away a person, the less he can communicate with them. However, Price found that if he’s closer emotionally to someone, the range increases. Soap’s range must be shite.

Soap seemed to snap into the determined mindset Ghost observed back in their first helo flight together, and stepped towards a huge concrete block. 

Starting heavy despite having doubts… Ghost respects that.

Soap lays his hand (right, Ghost notes to himself) and inhales. The flames on his fingertips burn bright white and Ghost find himself mesmerised-

The block gets blown back with immense force, ripping holes through shipping containers and trucks like they were made of paper.

There are not many moments that leave Ghost truly shocked anymore, not after what he’s done in life.

The dumbfounded expression on Price and Gaz’s face tells him they feel the same.

Ghost blinks a couple of times and forces his focus back on the Sergeant below, who's now flexing his hand while zeroing in on two stacked shipment containers. He walks over towards them and drives his arm down, and the containers pop up like popcorn in a hot pan.

Soap continues walking around, exploding everything he could get his hands on. As he kept going, he seemed to gain some confidence to run towards his fresh targets and blow them farther and farther each time. 

He looked like a kid experimenting with a new toy. Ghost scans his memory for the date of Soap’s Reaping. 6 years ago. 

Yet another question to add to the mountain, Ghost grimly thinks.

“Sergeant MacTavish!” Price eventually calls, and Ghost almost wants to stop him, to let Soap continue destroying the training grounds, to let Ghost continue watching him wield fire and flame like he would a knife.

But Soap startles and stops his hand from exploding yet another car, and he runs back to the tower. Price’s face twists when the Sergeant gets close enough to read. Before Ghost can ask, he relays to both him and Gaz “we’ll have to keep watch on this one, something’s odd about his behaviour”

As if Ghost hasn’t been doing that already…

When it comes time for Ghost to stretch his legs, Price ushers the Sergeants on a platform, and orders Garrick to lift it up. Soap has eased out his previous somber mood, and now flashes Ghost a big, excited grin. The look they share makes Ghost’s heart feel lighter. He hates it for a moment.

He hates what he can’t understand.

Walking towards the middle of the field, Ghost quiets down all other thoughts in preparation for Limbo. It is not the kind of power you can use absentmindedly.

After rising up several hundred feet to the sky, Price’s voice fills his mind, “Revenant powers authorized, Ghost. On your go.”

Ghost rolls his neck, finally…

He closes his eyes, seeing the dusty grounds, the bright blue sky, the small figures of his teammates, for one last time.

He snaps them open, and the world loses all color.

Instead, it is filled with dark figures, burdened by black ink, dragging themselves across the empty plains of Limbo.

Ghost watches the bright tendrils of his safe spot, his eye of the void-storm, lick his form before dissipating. Beyond it, mangled hands reach for him, broken soldiers direct their blank stares at him.

Here, he finds all of his past victims, trapped souls that wither in this place where nothing lives and nothing dies. He hears their calls, shouts in different languages, all towards him.

Those he understands, call his name, beg to be killed, curse him and his merciless Reaper, laugh at him.

He feels his control on Limbo slipping, and blinks.

In an instant, the world returns to its natural order, and the voices fade back, satisfied for now but never satiated.

He looks up at the taskforce, telling Price, “how was the show?” with an air of assurance.

“Terrifying as always, Lieutenant. Good work” he can hear Price’s smirk from here.

The moment Garrick lands the platform, Soap jumps down and jogs towards Ghost. He has a squirming curiosity to hear what he has to say, and if he’s honest with himself (and he’s not), slight worry.

He’s confident his powers are strong, and in his ability to protect himself from them. How they look to an outsider however…

The manic glint in Soap’s eye extinguishes those fears in an instant, “THAT’S what you’ve been hiding from me LT?!, Hell’s Bells, that was incredible!”

Ghost feels a smile form on his lips, “incredible is one way to describe it.”

He wants to ask how Limbo looked on the outside, but he remembers the one time Gaz saw it on the field. He didn’t look him in the eye for weeks. 

Soap wouldn’t call Limbo “incredible” if he saw its effect on humans.

Price and Gaz join them, and Ghost is mildly pleased to find none of them look too shaken. Perhaps they simply accepted what Ghost truly is.

“Great work lads” Price tells the three soldiers, “we will explore your powers in a squad situation in the future, but for now take a moment to rest”. He glances at Soap, “and MacTavish?”

“Yes sir?” Soap perks up.

“Welcome to Taskforce 141.”

Before Gaz can steal Soap away, Ghost catches up to them and stops their conversation, “Sergeant? A word.”

He nods towards a quiet spot between two buildings and waits for Soap to say his goodbyes to Gaz.

Ghost walks towards a small roofed corner, that overlooks the fields beyond the base. Soap stops to lean against the opposing wall and tilts his head inquisitively.

“I’ve read your file after our mission” Ghost starts.

A few seconds of silence pass before Soap raises an eyebrow, “...and?”

A small spark of irritation rises in his voice, “your medical files”, as if it will shed more light on what he’s trying to get at.

Clearly, it didn’t. If anything, it made it worse. Soap crosses his arms and lowers his head, brows furrowed.

He sighs, “look, if you want to ask about any of the censored sections, I can’t tell ye-”

“How long does it take you to heal?” Ghost cut him off.

That seemed to surprise Soap out of his closed off pose, “huh?”

“You lose and regain limbs more quickly than people change wardrobes. They keep sending you out weeks, days later.” He walked forward to tower over the Sergeant, “How long does it take you to heal completely from that?”

Soap blinks up with confusion, “they send me out when I’m capable of preforming well on field”, he said like it was obvious.

Ghost exhales harshly, “that’s not what I asked.”

Soap frowns, opens his mouth, and closes it again.

“Well… depends on the wound. Limbs take the longest if they’re completely cut off, but usually it doesn’t get to that.”

He rolls his left sleeve up, “got this arm blown off by a grenade. Our squad was taking cover in a closed room when it rolled in, and I had to throw it away.” He huffs what Ghost hopes isn’t a laugh, “I was a wee too late, blew up in my hand.”

Ghost examines his arm, the faint burn scars wrapping around it are the only hint anything ever happened to the Sergeant.

“How long ago was that?”

Soap sighs and rubs at his left arm, “about three weeks ago.”

“And it’s still not fully healed?”

He shakes his head slightly, “it’s mostly intact, but the nerves aren’t fully connected yet. Can’t really feel it…”

Nerve damage, and yet they already sent him here… did they know Price isn’t gonna sent them to the field immediately? Were they just gonna let the Sergeant deal with it if he did?

Soap quickly hurried to add, “I won’t be a liability on the field, sir. I’ve worked with worse injuries before.”

Fucking hell.

Ghost returns his eyes to the Sergeant’s, “I’m not sending you on the field when you can’t feel your bloody arm, Soap”.

Soap then actually laughs a little, “good thing you’re not in charge of my next mission, sir”.

He’s about to unleash all his anger and frustration on the damned Scot before he stops. Soap’s right… Price did say there’s one condition to his arrival.

Oh, rage was an old friend’s of Ghost, and Soap is about to meet it.

He tries to expel some of it with a sigh. He doubts it works. 

“Listen to me carefully, Sergeant.” He almost growls

“I don’t know how you’ve been operating before, but at one point all this, these injuries, the shit you’ve been piling under your rugs, it’s all gonna come back and explode in your face.”

Ghost takes a breath, and returns to his usual monotone voice.

“I know from experience. They think just because you died once, they can push and pull you like a puppet…”

He sees Soap’s pupils dilating.

“… Your strings are going to get tangled eventually.”

Ghost leaves the Sergeant staring at the wall, mindlessly feeling at his unfeeling arm.

Thank you all for reading as always :)

[askinkiskarma]

The Archer | Chapter X: Daylight (the end)

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX

Summary: As Neteyam comes back to life, the two of you have to decide how you want this new chance at a future to look like, and that means leaving some things behind in order to gain others.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader

Word Count: 15,5k words (wtf honestly)

Warnings/notes: it's over :'( , so many feels i'm drowning in them, smut (kinky, filthy smut, 18+ Minors DNI!!!)., cursing, mentions of blood and death.

A/N: 200,000 words later, the Cardigan series has officially come to an end. I have so many things I want to say, but I feel like no words would do justice to how incredible writing this story has been as an experience for me, how much it's meant to me and will continue to. I said in the first chapter of Illicit Affair that this is the first things that I have written that will ever see the light of day, and to see how many people have resonated with it, engaged with it, it has been beyond my wildest dreams (another TS reference, ha!). I will never be able to convey how grateful I am to literally each and every person that has liked, commented, replied, followed, reblogged. I know you probably hear that a lot, but I mean it from the bottom of my heart when I say I love you, and I thank you for giving me a voice, and a sense of community.

I have one more Oneshot I am planning to write for this story, which will be set in the future, and then I will be moving on, and starting new challanges. I hope you guys enjoy this chapter, and once again, thank you so so much.

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

And now I see daylight, I only see daylight

And I can still see it all in my mind

All of you, all of me intertwined

I once believed love would be black and white

But it's golden, like daylight

You were almost on the brink of drowning as you came out of the vision, looking at Kiri, who met your gaze with a mirror of your own, wide and shocked, thrilled and ecstatic, hopeful and joyful beyond any reason. You struggled to keep your cool, to keep your mouth closed, when all you wanted was to open it and scream, scream at the top of your lungs, scream for all the world to hear that you did it. You got Neteyam back. He was dead, but you revived his heart, you restarted his body, you found him in Eywa, you led him home. You never realised how literal his nickname for you would ever turn out to be, but you were grateful, for now and always, to have someone who loved you, who understood you, who shared in your every pain and grief, in your every moment of relief, in your deepest fantasies and happiest hours, who thought of you so profoundly, your being so connected to his own that your existence would be intertwined for life, for all life, for every life you led.

Holding hands, you swam towards the surface and smiled as you saw Lo’ak and Payakan hanging out. Payakan was officially reinstated in the clan and in his tulkun tribe, after heroically helping in the battle against the Sky People. Still, he preferred being with Lo’ak most of the time, and preferred being on his own. It was a hard pill to swallow, but one you were forced to many times, that, in time, you learn to love your chains. You learn to rely on the solitude, to accept it as your own, as a friend and companion, and the imprints of the shackles still dig into your skin even after they are gone. It was a phantom pain, solitude, and even when it was gone, you still felt it, still craved it, still wonder how long it would be before it inevitably came back. 

As you surfaced, Lo’ak entire body jolted and turned in your direction, quite literally on the edge of his seat as his legs were hanging off his brother’s fin. His eyebrows were raised and his eyes were so wide, they were emanating light in the night darkness surrounding you, like little beacons in the sea. Both his palms were propped upwards, towards the sky in an inquisitive motion, and you could tell he was dying to know, dying to find out whether he still had a brother. You smiled in his direction, a wide smile that could barely scratch the surface of all the emotions trying you, but it was enough for him to understand, enough for him to jump up, and run laps on Payakan’s back, yelling and screaming in relief, much like you wanted to do, much like you felt you needed to. 

“COME ON, come on come on, let’s go!” 

You laughed at you brother and you saw Kiri rolling her eyes, but you all had tears swimming like little fish in the sea, and hope in your heart, and as you helped your sister onto Payakan, you knew you had to hurry, you knew there were very few thoughts or words that could encompass what you were all going through. 

The tulkun made quick work of the journey, the gentle giant surprisingly fast for his size, and in no time at all, you found yourselves near the entrance of your marui, hearing voices coming from the inside. You stopped still in your tracks, the increase in your heartbeat so quick it made the world spin around you and your knees wobble, until they felt like the tendrils of the Tree of Souls, deep in the Omatikaya forest. Why were you nervous? It was Neteyam… your Neteyam. You’ve been together for a year now, you’ve known each other your whole lives. Seeing him hasn’t evoked this feeling in you since you were 16 and so in love with him your heart thumped at the mere mention of his name, beads of sweat dripping down your body at his mere gaze towards you, electric shocks down your back and to each extremity at any mere touch he bestowed on your body. His presence still evoked these feelings in you, the raw physical reaction you had to him unchanged in time, but you were never nervous around him anymore. Your love was comfortable, evolving from a wild fire, setting everything ablaze in its wake, to a camp fire, providing solace and warmth, providing comfort and home. 

Why were you nervous? Maybe because going through those flaps, and seeing him alive would really allow the fact he was gone from this world, gone from your life to begin with, sink in. Maybe it is cause it will bring to focus how close to losing him, to losing yourself, you really were. Maybe it’s because you knew his fluttering eyes and his lips wrapping around each word as they left his mouth would bring you to your knees, would remind you of how your last conversation was a fight, a horrible, insidious fight and that in the meantime, in his absence, you lost so much, including the promise of a baby you knew he wanted more than anything in the world. How were you supposed to tell him? How would he react? Would he ever forgive you? Would you ever forgive yourself?

“Angel, you coming?”

Lo’ak waved a hand in front of your face while he gently shook you with his other one. 

“Angel, you ok?” 

You gulped audibly, then looked at him with panic deep set in your features. His eyes softened taking you in, and he pulled you into a hug.

“It’s going to be ok. We’re all going to be ok. You did it, angel. You brought him back to life. Now’s the happy part, you know? Now’s the good part. Come on, I’m sure he can’t wait to see you again.” He took your hand in this and pulled you behind him as he walked, and you allowed him to guide you, appreciating the little push, as you don’t know if you would have been able to make it by yourself. 

There was chaos in the tent, chaos that tired you, that reminded you how exhausted and depleted of every possible resource you actually were. Max and Norm were busying themselves with machines and medical equipment, no doubt trying to make sure Neteyam’s vitals are alright, that he was alright. Would there be brain damage? Would there be physical consequences for his coma, for his lack of oxygen when he died? You tried to focus on one voice at a time, to allow it to ground you to the moment, ground you to environment around you, as you felt lightheaded and close to collapse. You found the only voice that mattered, the only voice that you would recognise anywhere, anytime, in any plane of being, in any state of consciousness, in any body or mind, in any alternate or parallel universe. The only one. 

“I’m alright, sa’nok. I am here. I’m sorry.”

You’re still yet to see him, buried under all the bodies of your family members, all straddling and caressing his arms and chest and legs and feet, clinging to him like they didn’t want to let go - like they couldn’t. You got the impulse, you got how necessary it felt, how demanding a compulsion. You stood cowering in a corner of the marui, allowing them the moment you got in the spirit tree, allowing them to wallow the loss and rejoice the rebirth of their son, of their brother, of their hero. 

Your hands settled on your lower abdomen, flat and taut against your palms, that you cradled and caressed softly, imagining it soft and tripled in size, imagining your fingers pressing down on it to meet the little hands and feet pushing from inside it to feel you, to talk to you. You thought sadly about the baby that was gone, your baby, Neteyam’s baby, your little perfect bundle of joy, and looked at the way Neytiri and Jake hugged their son tightly, so much love and gratitude filling the air around you, so many tears and cries filling the silence of your home. You knew then that if that was your price to pay, if this was your burden to carry, you were happy to do it, happy to have been able to be even a small reason why this moment was unfolding in front of you. 

A son for a son. 

A little synchronised movement between all of them is all it took for you to come face to face with the man you loved more than all the stars in the night sky, all the stars adorning his beautiful body, that stiffened as he took you in, his golden eyes wide as they landed on yours. You held the breath in your lungs and counted. Nothing else mattered in this world, not ever, not anymore. Nothing but those eyes. Nothing but the soul that was reflected so well in them, like mirrors to the depths within him, that nobody knew like you did, like nobody understood in the way you could, just like you knew he knew you. Your twin flame. You melted at the scrutiny of his gaze, that now migrated to your hands, to your lower belly that you were still holding affectionately and his eyebrows raised taking it all in. A small sob escaped your throat at seeing him, finally seeing him, at him seeing you, finally seeing you, exhausted and cried-out and marked in bruises and cuts, in thick loin cloths that were dripping in a mixture of water and blood, all the way down the leg and on the floor of the marui. 

The entire family turned around to follow their son’s gaze, and when theirs landed on you, when it shifted in between the two of you, when the air became thick with tension and anticipation, in your grief and fear, in his confusion and hope, you faintly saw Jake motion everyone out of the room. Tuk came hurrying to your side, and you had to break your eye contact with your mate to kneel and take her in your arms. 

“Thank you!” She was crying, small hiccups escaping her mouth with every deep breath and her small arms encircled your neck so hard they were hurting you, but you held her, allowing her to cry it out in your presence, that you knew consoled her. You have always been scared of the eventuality of motherhood, scared of your demons getting the best of you and manifesting as bad parenting, scared of the possibility of hurting your child without realising, without meaning to. Scared to be a bad mother. But holding Tuk in your arms, knowing what you meant to her, knowing you were pretty much her second mother and have been for a while now, it put your mind at ease. It helped you deal with the mind-paralysing fear and to some extent, helped you be hopeful of a time when your own child will look at you the same way.

Neytiri got up from where she stood and approached you, her eyes so red and puffy there was barely any identifiable white in them, and your heart constricted in pain at the sight. She’s had to endure so much. She hugged you, so tightly her beaded top and jewellery were scratching painfully on your skin and you smelled the faint smell of metal as blood started pouring out of you. 

“You know, when I first saw you, you were the smallest thing I had ever laid my eyes on. So small, smaller than I could ever imagine a baby being. I stood next to your mother while she gave birth, and had to watch her scream in pain, scream so loudly I thought the whole forest would wake up. I was pregnant then, and watching her scared me, scared me for when I would have to give birth to my son. And when you came, you were bloodied, and covered in goo and a little wrinkled, but then, Norm and Max washed you, and I swear I had never seen anything more beautiful in my life. Not just you, but your mother. And the look she had on her face, the love I could feel all around me, the instant unbreakable connection, the unconditional bond that would transcend time and space, would always be more than any words can describe. I loved your mother, my girl. I loved her so much, and I promised to take care of you when she passed. 

Imagine my surprise when you ended up taking care of us, instead. I always knew you were special, but to watch you grow up, watch you become the reason my clan is rid of a disease that plagued it for years and years, watch you fight alongside us, complete your Iknimaya, become one of the people. Watch you bring my son back to life… my son, that you have been connected to since before he was born.”

You were both crying as she was caressing your head, pushing your hair backwards and stroking it gently.

“When I was very heavily pregnant, I came to see your mother. We met in the forest, and she brought you with her, you were just a couple months old, and they had just managed to make a little oxygen mask for you, so Marj wanted to show you the forest. We lay on the ground together, just talking, like we always used to do. And all of a sudden, you reached out your little palms, almost like you were searching, and you touched my belly. And you just kept your tiny hands there, on my belly, with a little smile on your face. We laughed about it at the time, but didn’t think that much of it. Until just a few hours later I went into labour, and had Neteyam not too long after. 

I thought about that moment since it happened, every time you two were together. Every time it felt like you two were one soul, split in half down the middle, meant to one day reunite and become one again. It was scary, and foreign. You were human, and he was Na’vi. You would never be one of us, I thought. But no one could deny the connection between you, not even the Tsa’hik. When you were young, your mother told me in confidence she is working on an Avatar for you. That she feels like you belong with us, you always have. That you belong with Neteyam. I agreed, but after she died, so did my hope for it.” 

She looked guilty and torn as she spoke. “I pushed him, I told him to leave you, to give you space. I told him to find a mate, I thought that’s what needed to happen, I thought it would help you both heal, it would help you move on from a love that couldn’t be, that was impossible. I am so sorry. I had to see you both suffer and know I caused this.” You took her in your arms again and held her, your turn to console her. 

“It’s alright, sa’nok.” 

“When Norm told us about the Avatar, I was so happy. So, so happy, it felt like this was always meant to happen, this was always meant to be. I knew then that you and Neteyam would always find each other, that I was right from the beginning. That Eywa willed it so. Eywa willed everything so. The Avatar, the impossible to make Avatar happened, and it could only happen to you, because you had to be one of us, you had to guide us, you had to be Neteyam’s light. Your hands brought him into this world when he was born, your light guided him, and then brought him back to this world, when we thought we lost him forever. It was you, always you.

I will never be able to repay you. But I will continue to be your family, your mother, for as long as I still can, for as long as you’ll allow me. I will always love you, and I will always protect you with my life, just like you have continued to for me, for us, for so long. Oel ngati kameie, ma’ ite (I see you, daughter).” 

Your mind was at a loss for words at Neytiri’s confession, at her love letter to your mother, to her son… to you. This woman, this incredible, strong, capable, beautiful, intelligent, kind woman has done so much for you, has given you motherly love you thought you would never feel again. She welcomed you in her life, in her family’s lives, she gave you a home and a cause and a reason to get up in the morning, and you never thought you would be able to give her anything that would be able to balance any of that out. You were beyond elated to hear that you did manage to give her something, that something you did helped her, brought her comfort and safety and peace. 

“Oel gnati kameie, sa’nok (I see you, mother). You and this family are everything to me, everything. And I will continue to fight everyday to be worthy of it. Of you. Thank you.”

You hugged each family member individually, and thanked Norm and Max for their invaluable contribution to your and Neteyam’s health, for always being such good men in the storm, for being the best extended family you could have ever asked for. You watched as every last one of them left, and, with a deep breath in, you turned your gaze to him, the only person in the world - now and always. 

“Hi.” 

His smile dazzled you, feeling the dizziness you have been struggling with for a while, the ache deep in your womb come back into focus and knock you to your feet. You walked slowly to where Neteyam was laying, every step a torture, every step a moment in which your body seemed like it was catching up to itself, catching up to everything it’s been through. Ever since your dad’s message, your body fought and fought, it withstood everything that was thrown at it. Fight or flight always did wonders for you, until it was time to crash, until after the world settled around you and the adrenaline, the stress diminished, and you could finally feel the overwhelming pain that was lurking beneath the surface. Neteyam reached a hand out to you when he saw how wobbly you are, but winced when the gesture tugged at the needles of the IV fluids currently flowing inside his body. You grabbed his hand into yours as you plopped yourself to the ground, and he inspected you carefully, sorrowfully, frown lines so deep you thought they would never go away. His eyes fixated on the thick, unattractive loincloths you were dressed in, that were still dripping on the floor from your swim, and his frown somehow deepened at the blood that was clearly visible on the material and that had dried going down your thighs. 

Your hands travelled all over his body, from the hand he reached out, up his arm and on his chest, over his every bruise and cut that was way underway to healing, to his navel and over his abs and up again, until they reached his neck and face, his face that clearly showed him awake and cognisant, clearly showed that he was back to you, back into your life that he was violently yanked away from, and seeing his expressions, his eyes, reminded you of the vacant ones he left behind that haunted your every moment, reminded you of his blood on your hands and Neytiri’s wails, of how every ounce of happiness and love just dissipated from you like water on a hot day. 

“I can’t believe you’re here.” Your voice cracked in the middle of the sentence, and hearing that voice, so defeated and broken, so much like how you felt inside, was enough to push you over the edge, enough to make you sob aggressively in his chest, grateful to be able to do this again, grateful for the way his arms found their way to your back and hair, that he was caressing gently, his touch everything you have needed for days that felt like years, like lifetimes that you lost, that you would never get back. 

“I’m here. I’m so sorry it took me so long, Atan. You’ve always been so much quicker than me, at everything. It always takes me a bit longer to catch up to you, but I am here. And I’m never leaving again, not without you.” 

“Promise?”

“Promise.” 

It took a long time for Neteyam to manage to calm you down, but eventually your heartbeat lowered to an appropriate rate and your breath stopped feeling like it was burning your lungs and you were so dehydrated from crying that that also stopped eventually. 

“I’m so sorry about your dad, Atan. So, so sorry. When I saw him in Eywa…” he couldn’t continue. “I am so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t here for you, so sorry you had to go through all this by yourself.” 

“Neteyam… I am the one that needs to apologise. I have so much to be sorry for, so much that I need to tell you. I -“ 

“You have nothing to apologise for. Nothing. The fight, what I said, what you said, it was all wrong. It all came out wrong. And you know… when I left you then, I was so sad, so unmoored, like it was a problem that we would never be able to solve, but then, as I watched Lo’ak leave for Payakan and knew that I would follow him into danger once more, no consideration for the consequences, no other thought outside of saving him, I knew it then you had been right to say the words you said. You were right. And if I want a family, if I want us to move forward, it has to come from me. I have to show you what you mean to me, that I’m here to stay, that I will keep myself safe as much as the people I love, so I can live to see my children grow up, the way I’ve always wanted to. So I am sorry. And I will be ready when you are, whenever that is. Whatever it is, we’ll brave it through together, and I promise I’ll be here for you, and I will be more careful.” 

You had no idea how much you needed to hear those words until they left Neteyam’s lips, but as you did, your whole heart lit up from within, and the light that shone through the cracks helped mend them, helped heal it, helped put it back together. You would be ok. You and him, you’d be okay. As long as you had each other, there’s no storm you couldn’t weather, including parenthood. 

“I need to tell you something. And I fear when I do, you’re going to hate me. And I’m so sorry. I am so sorry that it happened, because it took it happening for me to realise that I am ready, that I am not afraid anymore.”

“What is it, Atan?”

He struggled to sit up so you could be face to face, and despite your wordless protests, you helped, heart throbbing at his proximity, and his presence that enveloped your own like the warmth of a sun, and when it was done, you sighed and continued, feeling soothed by his thumb tracing your lips and the white luminescent freckles on your cheeks. 

“When the ship attack happened, the fight with the humans, the effort it took to get my dad away from it all, the stress of losing you, the effort of bringing you back… there was so much pain in me, pouring throughout my whole body, but I thought that was just from all the wounds, both physical and emotional, all the wounds I had to withstand in such a short amount of time. B-but…” You choked on your words, hoping and praying that by swallowing them whole you wouldn’t have to utter them, not have to say them out loud, not to him. Your hand involuntarily went to your abdomen, that you stroked mindlessly, and when Neteyam’s eyes followed your movement, a look of terror grazed his face. 

“I found out… I was pregnant. We were pregnant. The little being we wanted, the little bean I was so scared of, it had been there, and I didn’t even know. I didn’t even know until the stress and the pain and all the loss and grief running through every inch of my being took it away, away from me, away from us.”

Admitting this to your mate was somehow even harder than you thought it would be, and you found yourself once again collapsing on his chest, once again pushing out tears from a body that felt like it had very little water left to spare, but still it gave you its last remaining sources for this, knowing you needed it, knowing there was nothing else there, but the tears, to drown the emptiness you felt in your body, in your womb.

Neteyam was reeling at your words, so much shock and pain, no amount of painkillers pumping through his veins could keep up, could ever numb this feeling down. But, as he watched you suffer, convulsing with each sob that escaped you, he realised the grief he felt was for you, for how much you had to deal with, power through, all alone. To know that this is what was happening while he was revelling in a fantasy land with all of his heart’s deepest desires come alive, it killed him. The guilt he felt ate him alive and left only scraps in its wake, enough for birds to peck on until only the bones were left behind. He should have been here, should have helped you through this, you should have been able to mourn the loss together, feel its unbearable weight together. He felt tears gather in his eyes and spill down his cheeks and neck, looking at your thighs that were smeared in your blood, just like your loincloth was, knowing what caused it. 

“Please, please don’t hate me. I am so sorry. When they told me, I realised how much I wanted it, how much, despite everything I said to you that day, nothing would have made me happier than to watch myself get bigger each day, than to watch you beam with pride at the thought of being a dad, than to watch us trying to figure out how we’re going to do this, than to know no other baby has ever been so loved, so spoiled, so cherished as ours would have been.”

The tears were unrelenting, hearing your pleas, laced in anguish and terror. He took your face in his hands gently, moving it away from his chest, that was now soaked in your own tears. 

“Atan, look at me. Please? Please look at me. You crazy girl, how can you ever, ever think I could hate you? What am I supposed to hate you for? Because you fought on the ship? Because you tried to save your dad? Because you worked tirelessly to bring me back home? What kind of person do you think I am?”

Your sniffles were all that could be heard in this tent that has seen so much, too much, too many tears, too much pain and grief, that would be forever plagued by the Sully’s misfortunes, but that Neteyam was adamant to change. He was adamant that the tides were turning, and that the only cries it shall ever hear again were those of pure, unadulterated, incandescent happiness. 

“Come here.”

His hand wrapped gently around your throat and the action made you gasp, but he pulled you towards him gently until your lips met in a kiss that promised to heal you, to mend all these unconquerable torment and reshape it into hope and wonder. He was desperate for your touch, desperate to feel you, desperate to make up for time lost and past gone, but he wanted to wait - you both needed to heal, to mourn together and move on, and right now, you both needed to fall asleep in each other’s arms. 

Neteyam woke up groggy in light of last night and all the drugs being pumped in his body, but as he felt your back snug against his chest and heard your soft breaths, his mind cleared and focused, and he was able to notice the rest of the world around him, such as his dad’s snores and Lo’ak’s senseless sleep-talk, as well as Tuk’s little body tucked in yours, as you held her tightly in your arms.  He really felt the need to get up, and stretch his legs. He felt the need to see the sea, to breathe in fresh air and watch as the nature surrounded him, as the Metkayina got up and ready for the day. He missed it, he realises. Missed all of it. It was great to be back in the clearing, and have you, and see the two babies, but waking up in your arms, with your pheromones inundating his senses, seeing his family share his space, seeing people exist outside of him and his problems and grief - he missed it and he was happier by the second to be able to experience it again. 

It didn’t take a lot of movement on his part for you to stir in your sleep and open your eyes, immediately turning your head to look for him, almost as if you were trying to make sure he was still here with you. He smiled a little at your panicked expression and the frown that melted as soon as your eyes locked, and the smile you gave him, wide and serene, with your fangs poking through, made him finally understand what you meant when you told him humans say being in love feels like having “butterflies in your stomach”. 

“Good morning, yawne. God, it feels good to say that again.”

“Do you think we can go outside? Just you and me?” 

You looked at him with a flicker of concern, but nodded softly. You turned around and patted Tuk awake gently.

“Tuk-tuk, I need to go, can you please go sleep with your parents, baby?” 

Tuk whimpered a little, but almost sleep-walking, made her way in between his mother and father and instantly fell back asleep. You both snickered at the sight and he wished silently he could sleep that easily. 

You got up, wincing a little as you did, which Neteyam dreaded, and carefully removed the needles in his body. You held out both your hands to help him get up, and he felt grateful for your help as he realised he could barely move his body by himself anymore, deep pain and numbness throughout his entire being. It took a long time and a lot of effort to get him outside, and he felt ashamed about it, embarrassed at the strain required to do the most basic things. Neteyam prided himself on his physical prowess, something he had worked for his whole life. He was strong, powerful, he was quick and agile, he was fast and limber and right now, he was none of those things. 

With a sigh, he lowered himself on the edge of the platform, allowing his feet to dangle in the water, that was warm against his skin, a big difference to the ice cold water of the river in the clearing. 

“It’s going to take a while, my love. For both of us.” He noticed your hand moving once again to your lower abdomen, almost a necessity at this point. You did it so often, without even thinking about it. He pressed his hand on you, as well, imagining a little kick meeting his touch, imagining the swell of your belly as life grew inside of you. He was so sad about it, but tried not to dwell on it, as he knew this wasn’t meant to be, and when it was, it would make the experience even more meaningful in light of everything you both have lost. 

“Does it hurt, Atan?”

You nodded weakly. “The physical pain I can deal with. It’s everything else that hurts more.” 

“I know. But you are the strongest person I know. And if anyone can do this, it’s you. And I'm here. You don't have to do this alone.” He struggled lowering his body so that his head rested on your lap, but when he did, the comfort it provided alleviated any pain and frustration in his heart. He nuzzled his nose against your belly and pressed small kisses all over, and you laughed softly as they tickled you slightly. Your hand found his hair that you stroked rhythmically until he was so relaxed, he was on the brink of slumber once more.

“I think it’s time for you and me to go back home.” 

“What?” 

Neteyam’s astonished tone made you giggle a little, and you almost didn’t recognise yourself or that sound, having been so long since you last heard it. 

“I think we should go home. I think it’s time.”

“Atan… we can’t go home, you know that.”

“Yes, we can. We left because Jake wanted to keep us and the village safe by hiding. But they found us. We’re not safe, and we can no longer hide. And if we’re going to fight, if we’re can’t hide anymore, I’d rather do it back home, where you and I belong, where we’ve always belonged.”

“Neteyam… your last words were ‘I want to go home’. You want to go home, and so do I. Neither of us wanted to leave to begin with. We belong there, with the Omatikaya. Our children belong there. Our children will learn the ways of the forest, they will learn to hunt and shoot a bow and arrow, they will learn to climb the trees and the Iknimaya, they will get their own ikran, just like we did. I love this place, and this clan, I really do, and it will always have a special place in my heart. And we will visit. We will have to, considering our brother will be their Olo’eyktan one day.” You chuckled again at the though of Lo’ak, his newfound love for this clan and the chief’s daughter, and how even in this way, he is a carbon copy of his father. 

“Shit. I never thought about that.” 

“But our place isn’t with them. And that’s okay. Sometimes growing up is knowing what works for you and what doesn’t, and knowing when to let go of the people you love, for them to be able to grow and evolve on their own, and for you to be able to do the same. You’ve held on to Lo’ak your whole life, clung on to him, and on a quest to protect him, you lost your life. Lo’ak’s always felt alone back home, and he always felt like an outcast, but here, he’s free at last. Having found Tsireya and Payakan, he found himself as well. He’ll made a great Olo’eyktan one day, but in order to do that, he has to not feel like he’s always living in your shadow, in my shadow. So let’s just go, you and me. Let’s go home.” 

Neteyam’s mouth was agape in surprise and shock at your words. He struggled to comprehend what you were saying to him. Go home. Their home, their real home. They couldn’t do that… could they? Neteyam resigned himself months ago in knowing his home was a long forsaken dream, that he might never see again. He resigned himself in knowing he will never be truly himself again, in knowing he had to live without an integral piece of what made him who he was, an Omatikaya warrior, rider of banshee, son of the Olo’eyktan and Toruk Makto, future Olo’eyktan himself. You said once humans had a saying, that home is where the heart is, and he felt that way most times, content in life as long as he had his family by his side, you by his side. But he didn’t agree fully to it - home was also where your clearing was, home was where he imagined his children being born and raised, home was in the trees and in the Hallelujah mountains, home was night rides with Seze and Neyn, home was where the Palulukan and Yarik and Talioang and Pali were, home was all of those things and more. And to have a chance to live in it again, have a chance at making his dreams and childhood fantasies come true, it was incredibly enticing, so much so his heart ached instantly just at the fleeting thought of it not happening. 

But how would it even work?! How would he ever be able to leave his family, his brother behind? His careless, stubborn, loving, amazing brother that he has spent every day of his life with, that he watched grow up so much in the mere few months they were in Awa’atlu, that finally felt like he had found his place, and Neteyam winced at the realisation him and his baby brother didn’t share the same idea of home. It pained him to admit that you were right, as you always seemed to be. Lo’ak’s home was here. The sea was his home, the sea would be his children’s home, before their birth and after their death, and Neteyam would have to watch from a distance, and get glimpses of the man his brother would grow up to be in time. He felt tears pricking painfully at his eyes. He was happy, so happy for him, that he finally found a place, found a family in Tsireya and Payakan, but he was saddened by the thought that, in the end, that family wasn’t him. Growing pains fluttered through his entire being as he realised childhood was over, and it was time to grow up, it was time to step up and be the adult that was needed, that would be able to take care of his own family, of his children and his mate. 

When you were younger, Neteyam saw you read a book that you loved dearly. Neteyam would listen intently as you talked about it, as you read him passages from that book and one of them always stuck with him as he made his way through life. He always wondered what it meant. 

“You will find little joy in your command. But with luck, you will find the strength to do what needs to be done. Kill the boy. Kill the boy and let the man be born.”

Now he understood. He finally understood that his death was the death of innocence and childhood, and it was time to let it go, and let new beauty, new life peer through, for new happiness to shine. 

“Let’s go home, Atan.”

════════════════════════════════════

It’s been a few weeks, and Neteyam felt himself getting stronger by the day, in no small part due to Norm and Max and their infinite patience in helping him heal, in helping him be able to slowly move his body again, his shoulders and arms. They said the journey to recovery would still be a long and strenuous, but that in time, he should be able to get the full function of his muscles again, and be as good as new. In those weeks, Neteyam watched blissfully as you were getting better, too, the bleeding close to completely gone. It was time. Time to talk to his family and let them know of the decision you two made, that only solidified in his mind in time. It was the right decision, the only decision. He wondered briefly if his parents would think the same. 

It was a good as time as ever, as the morning light beamed through the marui and filled it with warmth and patterns moving with the wind on the ground. It’s been a peaceful, calm few weeks and everybody could tell, the atmosphere serene and filled with laughter as his mother and sister were preparing breakfast for everybody. Neteyam saw you give him a pointed look, raising your eyebrows in their direction, and with a small sigh, trying to work up the courage, he cleared his throat and spoke.

“Ahem… everyone, there is something we wanted to tell you.” His heart started booming in his now healed chest as his whole family turned around and watched him intently. 

“What is it, ma’ itan?” 

He felt comforted by the feel of your fingers intertwining with his and the little squeeze that followed. 

“We’ve thought about it for a long time, and Neteyam and I want to go back home, to the forest.” 

His father’s mouth dropped, as did the rest of his family’s, and his fingers pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration as he sighed loudly and shook his head.

“Kid… we’ve talked about this.”

“No, Jake… we haven’t. We made this sacrifice because we thought it was the only way. We thought we were protecting the Omatikaya, the Na’vi, we thought by hiding we could keep this family safe. It didn’t work. The humans found us, the humans took so much from us. There is no hiding anymore, and we want to go where we belong, where we’ve always belonged.” 

“Dad… I know this comes as a surprise. But we are doing this. My whole life, I have spent giving up pieces of myself, pushing down my feelings and my desires, in order to be the version of myself I thought you wanted. The version of myself that I thought this family needed, the clan needed. But I’m no longer a child anymore, and no longer the future Olo’eyktan. I died, dad. My mate lost a baby, my baby, and I wasn’t even there. This will never happen again, I won’t let it. I want to be a good father, a good mate - like you are. I want to raise my kids in the forest, I want to fight for my clan and for my people that have raised me, that I have sworn to protect since the moment I passed my Iknimaya, since the moment I knew I was the son of the Toruk Makto.”

Neteyam looked at Lo’ak, who looked sad and angry. 

“I want to make it clear that I don’t expect anyone else to join us. This is something we have to do, but brother, you don’t. You… you’ve grown so much, Lo’ak. I watched as you found your place in this world, as you found your mate… your brother. The sea gives and the sea takes. You taught me that, brother. It took the forest away, and it took me away, but it gave you so much, and will continue to give you… strength, and a purpose… a family. And I will watch you become the man I always knew you could be. And when you become Olo’eyktan one day, I will know you are the best Olo’eyktan this clan has ever seen. A mighty warrior. A good leader.” Lo’ak’s face changed into a misshapen mess, trying to maintain his composure and not let the tears inundating his eyes fall, the way they were threatening to. Neteyam moved closer to him, patting him affectionately on the head.

“I’m so proud of you, Lo’ak. And I’m so sorry if my existence ever made yours more difficult. It’s hard for me to think of you as anything else other than my baby brother, but you are a man now. And it’s time to let you go. And I can’t wait to see you again, and get to see your incredible future unfold in front of my eyes.” 

Lo’ak said nothing as he slapped Neteyam’s arm away and pounced on him in a rib-shattering hug, and he was pleasantly reminded of the thousands of times his baby brother has done this when he was younger, back when his love for Neteyam was obvious and manifested itself physically, back when they were inseparable. Neteyam circled his arms around Lo’ak and patted his back and Lo’ak let out his sadness and frustration, years of pent up resentment and anger, years of feeling inadequate and isolated. They both needed this. The rest of his family quickly joined into the hug and Neteyam felt suffocated as his siblings and parents squeezed the life out of him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. It was time for all of them to heal, for all of them to grow. 

You took Spider’s hand in your own, the two humans who didn’t quite belong anywhere, but who had a family they loved and that loved them and you watched the beautiful moment unfold in front of you, happy tears slowly falling down your cheeks, your other hand resting, as it always was these days, on your belly, mindlessly caressing it. Being here, in Awa’atlu, surrounded by the endless ocean, has been painful for you, filled with emptiness and grief and loss, but oh-so-necessary. It had been something you all needed to go through, a time of discovery and growth, a time to break and a time to heal. You realised with a small smile that Tsireya was right. 

Water connects all things. Life to death. Darkness to light. 

You were almost done. Most of yours and Neteyam’s stuff was now safely tucked in Norm and Max’s helicopter, deciding you would give Neyn and Seze some freedom to fly as wildly and freely as their hearts desired. Both of the ikran were playing with each other in the airspace above you, their happiness so clear it was palpable. Seze was hard to budge from Neteyam’s side, so protective and desperate to ensure he wasn’t going away again anytime soon, so much so Neteyam had to order her away to play with Neyn. It turns out, Kiri has also been feeling similar to you and Neteyam, and despite how much she enjoyed being here, how much she enjoyed the water and the new flora and fauna, she too missed home, and her grandmother, and her Tree of Souls. So you watched as she said goodbye to her parents and to Lo’ak and Tuk, and held Spider’s hand as she put the rest of her stuff in the helicopter. 

It was a bittersweet moment. The whole clan was here to bid you goodbye, and you started with Ronal and Tonowari, that you owed for eternity for the way they took you in, for the way they give your dad his forever resting place. You approached them slowly and thanked them the best way you knew how, with an “I See You” and a ceremonial bow, that quickly turned into a hug when that felt like not enough to impart all the feelings you held inside. It was strange to them, and a bit out of place, but Tonowari was quick to adapt and reciprocate, while Ronal was ever the stoic, although she did wrap one arm around you in a moment of uncharacteristic affection. 

“Thank you. We will both miss you dearly.”

“Don’t be a stranger, nantutetsyìp (little human).”

“I won’t. We won’t. We will be here so often, you will get tired of us.” Tonowari laughed while Ronal rolled her eyes, but a small smirk was still apparent on her beautiful face. You reached a hand over to her belly, that you touched softly. 

“I can’t wait to meet this little baby. I will be her favourite aunt, that’s a promise.”

You moved on to Ao’nung and Rot’xo, that you punched affectionately in the chest. 

“Take care of my baby brother and sister. Or I will come back and I will show you how us forest people handle conflict.” 

You hugged them both, and were surprised to see the hint of sadness in their eyes. You will miss these knuckleheads. 

There was no hint in Tsireya’s eyes, as she was full blown crying in Lo’ak’s chest, and you had to pull her away from him so you could look at her and remove her tears with you thumb as you caressed her beautiful face. 

“Don’t cry, sister. We will see each other again soon. You have to visit, you have to come to the forest and see our home, you have to climb the Iknimaya with us. And when you come, I will show you the labs, and I will quiz you on all the English that Lo’ak should be teaching you. I don’t want you falling behind on our lessons, ok??” 

“Yes, sister. I will miss you so much, I wish you didn’t have to go.” 

She gave you two beautiful shells, almost identical, turquoise and dotted in white bioluminescent freckles, just like she was, and placed it tightly in your hand. 

“This is for your songcords. Both you and Neteyam have a place among us, you always will.”

“Thank you, Tsireya.” 

You turned your full attention to Lo’ak, who was once again, contorting his face so as to not appear weak in front of the girl he loved, and in front of the girl he used to love. 

“Take care of her, Lo’ak. And of yourself. You don’t have us to save your ass anymore, so you have to be your own older brother now, and Tuk’s. Do you understand?” 

“Yes, Angel.” You were proud of how well you handled it, no tears up until now, but as you looked in the eyes of your best friend, of the boy who got you and your humanness in a way no one else really did, not even Neteyam, who shared your sense of humour and wild streak and your inclination for cheesy old school movies and TV shows, you couldn’t hold it in any longer. 

“Be safe. And visit, ok? And don’t forget us while you enjoy your endless walks on the beach and adventures with your new brother. Me and Neteyam still got dibs on you, do you understand?”

“Yes, Angel. I’ll miss you so much.”

“Me too, baby brother.”

Finally, you moved to Neytiri, Jake and Tuk, who both decided they would move between the forest and the reef, so as to spend equal quality time with all family members. They had no more responsibility, no more weight on their shoulders, no Olo’eyktan or Tsakarem duties anymore. They could just be for a while, enjoying the peace while it still lasted, and you were happy they could finally be free, at least until the humans decided to strike yet again. But the victory at Three Brothers Rocks definitely put a dent in their plans and budget, and you knew it would be awhile until that were to happen. You had time. You all had time. 

“We’ll be home soon, ok, kid? It would be great if you could clean the tent for us beforehand, ha!” You rolled your eyes at Jake, but laughed as you hugged him. “Enjoy retirement, pops.”

You moved onto Neytiri, who was so happy to know you were going home, and that so was she soon, ecstatic to see her mum again, to see the forest again. 

“Don’t take too long, sa’nok. Mo’at will not be happy to be kept waiting and I can’t live without Tuk for too long.”

“We won’t, ma ‘ite. Be safe. Eat well. Don’t strain yourself, you are not fully healed yet.”

You smiled at her motherly ways that she was never able to fully disconnect from, that you never wanted her to, especially when they were directed at you. “Will do, ma.”

You kneeled on the soft sand to take Tuk in your arms as held her as she cried. 

“We’ll see each other again very soon, my baby. Don’t be sad, you know I would never leave you.”

“Promise?”

“Promise, baby. Come here.”

You held on to your mate as you said one final goodbye to everyone, and then climbed onto Neyn and connected your queues, feeling her excitement overwhelming you at the thought of going home. I know, girl. Me too.

You felt your stress and anxiety melt away with every kilometre you got closer, with every tree that came into focus, until it completely melted from your bones at the sight of the forest in the distance. You looked at Neteyam, who was smiling widely, relief so transparent and obvious on his face, and you laughed at how it was mirrored on Kiri and Spider’s faces as well. You felt free. Free at last. You knew they did, too. 

════════════════════════════════════

Neteyam woke up like from a reverie, like from the vision in Eywa, back in your tent, in both your tent, and felt like he was floating. He looked at the fabric and counted all the dots in it through which light blinked carelessly, and felt warmth envelop his body as he tightened his grip around your sleeping form. It’s like he never left. Your home looked exactly the way you left it, both of you having spent a few days getting it back to this point. He glanced around, at the bows now back in their stand, at the quivers and the guns, and he hoped it would be a long while before they had any use for them again. He looked at your desk, and smiled to himself at how you did a happy dance at seeing them all again and having it all back, all the books your mother spent her whole life collecting and keeping close to her heart. He peered at the mirror you looked at every morning before you went outside, and the two songcords that were back where they belonged, hung on it, one on top of the other. It was hard to picture the life he left behind, hard to imagine the reef as anything but a dream, a hallucination. 

As he pressed a small kiss on the top of your head, he saw you turn to face him, wide golden eyes and pearly whites the only thing he could focus on as he took you in, in all your unbelievable beauty. Your gaze turned primal as you continued to look at each other, need enveloping you both like a thick blanket you wanted to get lost under. It’s been so long, so long since he had you, so long since he took you, so long since he claimed you the way he knew you craved, the way you both craved. You both found solace in each other’s bodies, in the way your individual needs were only met in each other - his need for control, your need to relinquish it. Even in this way, you were perfect for each other, made for each other. You were his match and he was yours.

His cock throbbed in need, in desperate need to fill you to the brim until you were dripping in cum, until you were swollen and sore, until you were begging him to stop while pushing him deeper in you. It drove him mad, your look, the way your pheromones were flooding his nostrils, the way the sound of your pounding heart matched the twitching of his hard member, the way the smell of your arousal was so thick, sweet and floral, he could feel it on his tongue. 

It took every scrap of self-restraint in him to not rut into you like a feral animal, but he had other plans and the surprise he had planned had to take precedence. 

“Atan… I need you to be a good girl for me and wait until tonight… can you do that?” 

You whined as you threw a leg over his hips and started grinding yourself slowly on him. 

“I have had to wait for weeks. Weeks, Neteyam. Weeks in which the only thing I could think of is your cock so deep in me I start to see stars.”

Neteyam growled, a deep guttural growl and removed your leg from him. 

“You’re gonna make me fucking crazy, Atan. But if you are a good girl for me, I will make it worth your while. And I will indulge your every whim… All. Night. Long.”

You threw your head back and moaned, and after thinking about it for a while, you eventually relented. 

“You better make it worth my while, or I’m gonna have to start without you.” 

He shook his head and kissed your nose affectionately. “I love you, my crazy, insatiable fiend.” 

Your patience was not one of your more formidable attributes, Neteyam thought tiredly as he was helping you onto Seze, a big frown on your face. You were definitely needy and desperate, and have been the whole day, which made it Neteyam’s day hell, having to push you away every 5 minutes, having to keep a level head for the both of you. You’ve been asking him about the surprise the entire day, testing his patience that he felt like he had infinite supplies of at the moment, thankfully. Eclipse finally settled and the mountains glowed with iridescent hues, that Neteyam made a mental note never to take for granted again. 

“Are we going to the cave? Or to the clearing? I thought we couldn’t really go to the clearing again?” 

Neteyam sighed for what felt like the millionth time today, and got behind you on his ikran. 

“You are a pain in the ass sometimes, you know?” 

“But I’m your pain in the ass, remember?” 

Neteyam made Seze land deep in the forest, in a place that was very familiar to both of you, and he knew you would know where you’re going as soon as you saw it. 

“So we are going to the clearing. I knew it.”

He grabbed your hand in his and intertwined your fingers, his other hand moving to your jaw as his lips closed over yours. You moaned and immediately deepened the kiss, to which he laughed. 

“We’re almost there, Atan. Come on.” 

You growled and threw your head back, but followed him without saying another word.

You knew you were being annoying. You could feel yourself being annoying, but you couldn’t stop, not when you have been unhinged with need the whole day, the whole month, since before that fateful ship attack and all throughout both your recoveries, throughout the journey back, throughout settling back in the forest. You still didn’t know what this was. You knew it was a surprise, but you didn’t know what it was or why it was. You were pouting now, walking pointedly towards your clearing, and you tried to relax and get excited about the fact you haven’t seen this place in so long, way before you even left for Awa’atlu, out of fear that humans might find you here and take you away.

You looked around you, at the beauty of the forest and the glow surrounding you, at how your each step was illuminated by the ground your feet were touching, and the howls and sounds of the nocturnal creatures coming out to play, the soft hum of the insects and the chirping of the birds. You loved all of it, missed all of it so much, a symphony that felt like that background music to your life’s story. As you pushed past the trees into your clearing, you gasped, the breath knocked out of your lungs at the sight. A red woven blanket was placed on the ground, pillows and covers enticingly waiting for you to snuggle in. You stared in awe at the huge holographic screen projected over the river, currently stopped at the introduction scene of Pride and Prejudice, your favourite book, the one you still had by your bed in the tent, the one whose covers were falling apart at the seams.

“Neteyam… what is this?” 

“It turns out, believe it or not, that I have been lucky enough to call you mine for a whole year now. Actually, it’s been a lot longer than a year, but our actual anniversary fell at a bit of an inopportune time, since you know… I was dead. And afterwards, we were both reeling, and grieving our loss, and healing our bodies, and when you told me you want to go home, I knew I should wait and do this properly. And so this is what I’m doing.” 

“I wanted to thank you, Atan. I don’t think I say this enough, but thank you. For having been my light since the moment I was born, until the moment I died, for guiding me back home, to you, every time I lost my way. For giving me a reason to be better - a better friend, a better sibling, a better son, a better man, a better mate. My whole life, I have looked up to you. My whole life, I saw in you the person I knew I wanted to be worthy of one day. I have watched, in awe, every day, as you became the most intelligent, caring, incredible, beautiful person in this world, a person who struggled so much, and went through so much grief, a person who carried so much darkness inside, and yet managed to emanate only light all around you, in everyone’s life. I have watched you be my sister’s best friend and confidante, my brother’s shoulder to cry on, my baby sister’s hero and my parents’ biggest critic and supporter and every day, I grew more in love with you. I have been by your side my whole life, and not one moment did I not love you, did I not hope that I would never have to be parted from your side, for as long as I lived. You have been the woman I have been madly in love with since I was 15, and the woman I hoped and prayed could one day be the mother of my children. I am so eternally grateful for every moment I get with you, every moment I get to watch you, every moment I get to wake up next to you, I get to look at you and know that nothing will ever change between me and you, between this formidable happenstance we call our love.” 

You were sobbing violently at his words, that made you feel so special, so loved and appreciated, that healed every hurt in your soul, that mended every crack in your forever broken heart, until there was only love, the love you felt for him, for your relationship, for the lifetime of memories you have made together, for the lifetime of memories you’re yet to make. He took you in his arms and held you, caressing you gingerly as you cried and sniffled in his chest. 

“I have a gift for you. Actually, I have two gifts.”

“I thought this was the gift.” 

“No, Atan.” 

You removed your head from his chest and waited as he went to the blanket and removed two things from underneath the covers. The first was a book. You took it in your hands with a confused look on your face, that quickly turned stunned as you read the cover. Pride and Prejudice. It was your mum’s book, but the cover was different. It was new. Made of wood, the woodwork detailed and intricate, with flowers and patterns, as well as a carving of the Bennett house as depicted in the movie that was currently paused on the screen. 

“This is actually cheating a little. This was the original gift I planned for your 17th birthday, that I never got to give you. I started the covers, but never got to finish them, and after I left, I thought I’d never get to give them to you. When we came back, I thought it would be the perfect time to finish it, and Norm and Max helped me bind the book. I know how much you love this book, and I know how sad you were that it seemed like it was falling apart. So hopefully now it will have a really long life, long enough to pass on to our kids, and their kids after that.” 

You always wondered about your life, about how it seemed so out of balance, so filled with sorrow and pain. You realised now, as you’ve always suspected, that Neteyam was the counterweight. Your good karma. He was what made all the sorrow and pain bearable, what made this life worth living, still so unbelievably beautiful, and exciting, and good. It was him. He was your gift, the Universe’s gift for all you’ve had to suffer through. You had no words that could convey what this meant to you, what his words and the gestures and this night will always mean to you, so you just kissed him, hopefully able to convey it to him in this way. He chuckled a little as the kiss came to an end. 

“You’re welcome, Atan. Here, your last gift.” He gave you a big cork board, and you recognised it faintly, it was a board that used to be in one of the labs you grew up in. Except now, it was filled with a collage of photos, photos that used to be hidden in your Pandora’s box, back in your old bedroom, where you kept all your secrets, all the things you were too scared to ever deal with. Photos of yourself as an infant, as a toddler, as a child. Photos of you and Neteyam, of your mum and dad, of the scientists, of the Sully family. And new photos, that you were seeing for the first time, of yourself, sleeping or hanging out with your siblings, laughing animatedly with Jake. Photos of you sleeping snug against Neteyam, photos that he obviously took in secret. 

“When did you take these?” 

“My dad has a camera that I use sometimes when you aren’t looking. Out of every human invention, I definitely think I like the camera the best. It’s amazing to be able to have these moments captured, forever. I have been collecting the pictures for months, and as we came back, I was able to print them in the lab.” 

You looked at the gap that covered the bottom right quadrant of the board, and looked at him expectantly. 

“That’s for all the new memories we’re going to make. It’s for when our children are born, for when we become aunt and uncle to all our little nieces and nephews, it’s for the amazing life we still have to live. I thought we could hang it in our tent, so you can look at it every day and be proud of everything you’ve achieved, Atan, of this incredible life you’ve led, that is only a tiny speck in the sky of the rest of our lives.” 

You smiled up at him, still in shock at everything he did, and all the thought he always put in his gifts, at how much he loved you, at how much you loved him. He took the gifts from your hands and left to put them by the blanket, away from view.

“Do you want to watch the movie? Or… are there better things we could be doing beforehand?”

You looked at him through your eyelashes, your vision blurry from how badly you needed it, how badly you just wanted to be fucked, like it was the first time, the only time.

"I'll take that as a yes."

His eyes darkened, pupils so dilated there was barely any yellow left in them, and he stalked towards you like a predator, like you were his pray to hunt, to take, to kill. You were panting in anticipation, your frilly beaded loincloth soaked in your arousal, that has been continuously pouring out of you all day, so saturated it was trickling down your ass and thighs. You couldn’t believe this man, couldn’t believe he was yours, yours to keep, yours to admire, yours to fuck until you blacked out, forever. He only stopped when he was so close to you, his breath was fawning over your face, and his smell, his musky, woody scent hit you instantly, making your tempestuous need uncontrollable. You raised on your tiptoes to bring your lips to his, but he stopped you, wrapping his long fingers around your throat and squeezing until the air left your body and the asphyxiation made you dizzy. 

“No, Atan. You’ve been a good girl so far, you don’t want to ruin everything at the last second, right?” 

He let go of your throat and you gasped, the sudden burst of pleasure making you moan and push your thighs tightly together, as the throbbing deep within you was so intense it was starting to hurt. 

“Fuck, Neteyam. Please, I just, I need you to fuck me. Please.”

“God, I love it when you beg. It drives me fucking crazy. You drive me crazy. I have needed to feel you, feel that pretty little pussy milk me, squeeze me, drench my cock in your cum for so long. I’m going to make you feel so good, Atan. I’m not gonna stop until you beg me to, until you’ve come so many times you pass out with my cock still deep in you. How’s that sound, mm?” 

You were almost done just at his words, the power they held over you unspeakable, the power this man had over your body still astounding you, a year later. You had no words, just moans, but it was not good enough for him. His hand squeezed around you once more and you were gasping for air that wasn’t coming, not until he allowed it. 

“I asked you a question, Atan.”

“Fuck. It sounds amazing, i-it sounds so good, Neteyam. P-please. Fuck.”

“That’s my girl.” 

The hand that wasn’t tight against your throat went to the back of your head, taking a fistful of your hair and pulling roughly on it, until your head was thrown back, and you felt a dull sting of pain when his canines dug into your throat, until blood came out and you went feral at the feel of his tongue licking over it, at the thought of it coated in your blood. You were reminded that the remnants of your blood were still circulating through his body, another way through which you owned him, you possessed him just like he did you. He kissed you, roughly, tongue darting over your lips and you opened them, drove to the brink by the taste of metal, of your blood on his tongue, in your mouth. You moaned in the kiss and he smirked, and you knew he loved seeing you like this. Panting, begging, mewling like a little bitch, desperate for his touch, desperate to be fucked unconscious. 

He lifted you effortlessly off the ground and knelt with you in his arms until he placed you on the blanket, your back loving the feel of the warm, fuzzy fabric. You reached behind you to grab a hold of your queue and brought it forward into his line of sight, and he smirked again as he did the same. 

“You want to feel what you do to me? How fucking wild you drive me? How deeply you own me, how badly I need you, Atan? You want me to feel your mind going blank as I bottom out in you, as I lick every bit of the nectar dripping in between your legs? Is that what you want?” 

“Yes, fuck. Yes. Please.” 

“Good.” He connected your queues and the influx of feelings, of desires, of savage, untamed emotions was almost too much for you to bear, eyes rolling in the back of your head. It was his turn to moan and the noise sounded so much better coming from his mouth, his deep voice reverberating deep within you, driving you one step closer to release. 

He skilfully removed your clothes and his own, leaving you with a glorious view of his incredible body, of his defined abs and bulging biceps, of the v-line that lead to his large, beautiful cock, rock hard and so swollen it was deep purple at the tip, slapping against his abdomen, leaking precum that you were dying to lick off it. 

“You are so beautiful, Atan. You are fucking perfect. I can’t believe you’re mine. I can’t believe my luck. I promised I would make it worth your while, let me show you I keep my promises.” 

He lined himself to your entrance, that was gushing in need, and you mewled as he teased you, slapping his dick against your folds, grinning like a devil. You arched your back and shut your eyes, deep frown lines on your forehead, that was already covered in a thick layer of sweat. He grabbed your jaw and pushed your head down to meet his wild gaze. 

“Look at me. Look how I fill you up with my cock, Atan.” Your eyes drifted down to where your bodies met, and you struggled to maintain you gaze as each inch of him was being buried in you, eyes fluttering open and close, the feeling too much, too intense. You felt yourself being stretched to the brim, until the border between pleasure and pain was delightfully unclear, until his tip hit your cervix, until his girth pushed against your g-stop, until your walls were contracting at the sensation you have been deprived of for so long. 

“Fuck, you take me so well. So, so good for me, baby.” He didn’t move, and you felt through the bond the intensity of his own feelings, so much love and care, so much need and desire in him and you waited, getting lost in this feeling, getting lost in the pleasure that so good, it was getting unbearable. 

“Move, Neteyam. Please, move.”

“I need to feel you first, baby. I need to feel the way my cock stretches your needy cunt, I need to feel the way your walls are throbbing around me, I need to admire the bulge in your abdomen as I fill you up. Look at it.” He pressed where the little bulge formed by his impressive length was visible, and as he did, you somehow felt even fuller, and once again you felt the need to close your legs, to try to get some relief from the torturous wait. 

Taking pity on you, Neteyam started a slow, maddening pace and he smiled when he saw tears in the corner of your eyes at how desperate you were. Without warning, he started rutting you like the little slut you were, like the way you have been begging for, and almost immediately your first orgasm washed over you with enough power to knock the air out of you and he didn’t stop, not when it was done, not until you came again, and again, and again,  until tears were falling down your face and into your ears at how overstimulated you were. 

“Neteyam, I can’t anymore.”

“Yes, you can, Atan. Come on, just one more and then I’ll fill this pretty pussy with my cum. Do you want that? Want me to fill you up real nice? Want to be dripping in my cum, want the whole village to smell me on you?” 

At his words, at the picture he painted, you felt the pleasure coil in you again, and you knew this orgasm would hit you like a tidal wave, keeping you on the ground with no power to get back up. 

“Y-yes, I want it. I want it so badly. I want your cum, fuck, I want it.”

“You want me to give you a baby? Want to make me a daddy?” 

“Y-yes. Yes, I need it, need your cum in me, please.” 

“Fuck yeah, baby. Take my cum, like the good little girl you are.” 

You both moaned as you came, the liquids in you mixing and spilling out of you, over your ass and onto the blanket. You didn’t know if it was all you’ve had to endure, or how long you’ve been without it, but this was definitely the best orgasm you ever had.

“I agree.” 

You laughed loudly, and looked at him affectionately. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“I can feel you, Atan. I can feel the pleasure that washed over you, more intense than you have ever felt. I feel the same.” 

He pulled out of you, and pecked you gently on the lips. As you were trying to get up on your elbows, he pushed you back onto the blanket and you fell backwards with a soft thud.

“Where do you think you’re going? I’m not done yet. I told you I will indulge you all night long, didn’t I?” 

“Neteyam, are you not going to be happy until I pass out?”

“Isn’t that what I told you, baby girl? Did I fuck you dumb already?”

How were you still so turned on? How was your cunt still throbbing in need when you’ve lost count how many times he’s made you come already? You loved it when he was mean, such a stark contrast to the peck from earlier, to his usual demeanour, to his real, day-to-day self. You loved it, it made you squeeze against thin air, feeling the need to be filled once more.

His hands wondered over your whole body, over your breasts that he caressed and pinched until you whimpered, until his fingers were replaced with his tongue, the ministrations making you grind your hips against nothing, the noises coming out of your mouth more unholy with each second that passed you by, each minute that he was sucking and licking every inch of skin he could get his fingers and mouth on, until he reached your folds, still leaking a mixture of both your cum, that he lapped at like he had been starved, like this would cure the drought plaguing his senses. Your senses, on the other hand, were plagued by him and his skilled tongue, and the way it was pushing into you, sucking on your abused clit, until your walls were clenching once more. He pushed two fingers in you effortlessly, curling them to touch that spongy part in you that made you cry out in pleasure, and the stimulation was too much, the coil in you close to snapping again, your hips grinding on his face roughly. The animalistic moan he let out pushed you over the edge, and you squirted on his face, down his chin and nose and he laughed proudly as he licked it all off. 

“That’s my good girl.”

“How about we watch a bit of the movie and then I fuck you again?” 

You laughed as he made his way next to you and you cuddled up close to his chest. 

“Yes…daddy.”

════════════════════════════════════

Your family was in a tizzy today, preparations unfolding all around you for your upcoming trip, that you were supposed to leave for any minute now. It wasn’t going to be a particularly long trip, but it was definitely an important one, one that had you giddy with happiness and excitement. You were already packed, the clothes, gifts and medical supplies once more tucked away at the back of Norm and Max’s helo, both of whom were accompanying you, as well. Although never quite part of the people, both of the scientists were honorary Na’vi at this point, their continuous support, love and care for this planet and all its inhabitants not gone unnoticed, even within the Metkayina clan, who have taken a liking to the two. 

“Kiri, don’t forget the thing, the thing…” Jake was pointing aggressively on the floor at something by his daughter’s legs, and you laughed at how nervous he seemed. It was endearing and a little surprising, seeing how Jake was usually quite stoic and well put-together, especially when it came to his two boys. That has changed in the past few months since you returned home, the distance that always existed between himself and either one son or the other softening his rough edges, making him more open and affectionate to both of them. You guess it was true what they said, after all - absence does make the heart grow fonder. 

With one last smile in their direction, you quietly exited the tent and got up on your ikran, who cooed softly in your direction. She has been particularly gentle and tender with you recently, and you couldn’t tell if her having laid tiny ikran baby eggs was the reason behind it, or just general happiness and gratitude at your decision to return her to her home. Either way, you were grateful, and so, so excited to meet her babies when they were going to be here, fantasising about the idea that her babies and your own would one day be united, the same way you were. 

“Let’s go, baby girl. There’s one last stop I need to make before we leave.”

You got to the Tree of Souls easy enough, having visited so often recently you could make the trip with your eyes closed. You swore it would never be as long as it used to be for you to visit your parents, for you to keep in touch, to see them and talk to them, to make sure they knew they were missed and not forgotten. You wanted them to be part of your journey, in a way they never could before, and you were happy to say that regardless what was happening in your life, you came once a week without fail, nothing able to keep you away. 

The cove wasn’t desolate, several Na’vi lost among the tendrils, connecting to their ancestors, to their loved ones, to people they lost. You greeted each of them, all of them looking at you almost in awe, at the girl whose parents came from the stars, who stole the Toruk Makto son’s heart, who cured an illness that pillaged from them, that took away so many Na’vi men, women and children, including some of the people that were being visited today. 

You chose a part of the tree than was unoccupied, and connected your queue to one of the mauve tendrils swinging gently in the breeze. You were immediately transported in a place you were now very familiar with, your mother’s old house back on Earth. The humid heat hit you instantly, as did the smell of the ocean and the cold breeze that pushed sand into your nose and eyes, and you took a second to take it all in, as you always did, the beauty of Earth, so different and yet so similar to Pandora, always a treat, always worth the extra few minutes of reflection. You pushed the fence door and made your way to the house on the broken cobblestone path, and smiled as the sound of a piano playing could be faintly heard from inside. You didn’t bother to knock, and took your time walking through the narrow hallway, looking at all the photos that were hanging on the walls, a lot more than you remembered from your first visit, including new ones, one of you, human and grown up, in between your two parents that were smiling widely at the camera. Photos of you in the living room you were currently walking towards, playing piano and dancing with your father, propped with your feet on his as he swung you around. Photos of your mother rolling her eyes as she was caught mid-cooking, and a photo of your parents kissing on the beach, taken by you (you assumed) without them knowing. They were beautiful, so beautiful, just like they were. 

“Bunny! You came!” Your mum got up from the couch as soon as you entered and ran to your side, hugging you loosely so as to not hurt you. 

“Of course I came. Don’t I always come?” 

“Yes, but we expected you in a couple of days.”

“I can’t come in a couple of days, ma. We are leaving for Awa’atlu soon, remember?” 

“Ah, yes!!” Your mum face-palmed herself and you laughed at her. She was a little ditzy, you realised. You never realised that as a kid, but it was blatant now, more so by the week. Your dad joined in the laughter and came by your side, placing a small kiss on your cheek. 

“Hi, love. Are you excited for the journey?” 

“Eh, not for the journey, but definitely for the occasion. Thank you for the gift idea. He’s going to love it.” 

“Of course, bunny. How often does Lo’ak get to take his Iknimaya and become a man?” 

“Well, hopefully just the one.” 

They both laughed in unison at your joke. 

“I can’t believe how much he’s grown. God, he used to drive Jake crazy when he was a toddler, he would just run and run and crawl through tight spaces, where Jake could never fit through. He was an angel when Neytiri was around, but as soon as she left, he terrorised his dad. Poor Jake hasn’t had a good night sleep since the second Lo’ak came out of Neytiri.” 

“Well, that hasn’t really chanced. But he’s bigger now, so he’s easier to catch.”

The laughter was music to your ears, and you dreaded knowing you’d have to leave soon and not see them for at least a week.

“Where’s little, puny me?”

“Don’t call her that.” Your mum frowned at you, and you snickered at her face. You and… well, you, got along fine most of the time, but you realised that you were incredibly annoying and having to see yourself every week made you more appreciative for Neteyam and his never-ending patience. 

“She’s taking a walk on the beach. She loves doing that. She’ll be sad she missed you… and this little belly… I could just eat you, you know?” 

“It’s not that little anymore.” 

You placed your hands over your mother’s on your belly that was becoming exponentially larger by the day, and she squealed when she felt kicking meeting her palms. 

“Oh my God, do you feel that?” 

“Of course I feel that, mum.”

She scoffed at you, but she was too excited to rebut, too busy taking your dad’s hand and placing it where hers was. The baby kicked again and you winced, and felt the sudden urge to pee. 

“I need to go. We have to leave soon. I’ll be back as soon as I can, ok? Tell her I said hi, and that she better catch up on all the songs I learnt after I died.” 

“Bye, bunny. Say hi to Lo’ak and the rest of the family for us.” 

When you came out of the vision, you felt arms circling you, and you smiled as Neteyam’s familiar scent filled your every sense. 

“Hi.”

“Hi, Atan.” He was pressing small kisses down you neck, while his hands wandered on your body, from your breast, now full and barely covered by your increasingly small tops down to your belly, and he gasped silently when he felt the same kicking your parents did. 

“He’s kicking! Oh, Great Mother, he’s kicking!” He took you by the shoulder and spun you around and you laughed a little as the action made you dizzy. 

“We don’t know it’s a he yet, yawne.”

“I know.” You raised an eyebrow at him, but said no more, and watched as he lowered himself to your belly and looked at it in adoration, like he was venerating it, venerating you. 

“Hi, ma ‘itan. Be gentle to your ma, deal? We don’t want to hurt her.” He showered you in kisses until you melted in his touch, and by the time he reached your face, you were panting and in need. Neteyam groaned as the smell of your arousal hit him. 

“Atan, we have to get going, my dad’s already out of his mind with worry and excitement, and my mum keeps packing food, to the point the ikran are going to drown in the sea because of the overbearing load. We are the only sane ones in the family now, we have to act like it.” 

You threw your head back and laughed heartily, at his words, and at his tone that sounded serious, not an ounce of humour in it. 

“Fine. But when I’m hot and bothered for three days during the trip there, I don’t want to hear you complain.” 

Suffice it to say you were late to get going. 

════════════════════════════════════

As you spotted the familiar island of Awa’atlu, you heard the beautiful horn announcing your arrival, and felt emotion overtake your being at the thought of seeing your brother and Tsireya, as well as the leaders of the clan after so long. It’s been a few months since you have left, and although Neytiri and Jake have come here in that time, you have not. You were excited to see Lo’ak’s reaction at your news, and excited to watch him become a man, be born again as a member of the reef clan, that was now his forever home. 

You saw him before making out anybody else, his deeper blue skin sticking out like a sore thumb among the Metkayina. You jumped off from Neyn before she even landed, and you heard Neteyam and Neytiri both hiss at your recklessness. You were too busy to care, running as fast as you still could and wrapping your arms around Lo’ak’s neck in a tight hug. The younger man was too stunned to say anything, so stunned that his arms remained motionless by the sides of his body. 

“Hug me, you skxawng.” 

“Angel…what?!”

You scowled at him until his eyebrows dropped and his eyes softened, his open mouth curling in a soft smile, one you knew too well, one you loved so much. 

“Hi, Angel.”

“Surprise?” 

He pushed you a little and kept you at arms length as he inspected you, placing a hand on your belly. 

“How long have you been gone? You look like you’re about to pop.”

“You’re such a dick, Lo’ak.” 

“I’m kidding, Angel. I can’t believe this. I’m so happy. So, so happy. This is the best present you could have ever gotten me.”

“Oh, ok, then, I guess I’ll just leave the solar-powered projector loaded with all your favourite movies and tv shows in the helo.”

“WHAT?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?”

“Why are you more excited about that than being an uncle??” 

“Can I use the baby as a projector? Didn’t think so.” 

“Sing for us, Angel. You didn’t bring your guitar all this way to keep it by your side all night.”

“Fine, but only if after, Tsireya can translate everything I sing.”

“Ha, she’ll kick your ass, you’ll see.”

“Hey, I might be pregnant, but I will still kick your ass if you keep annoying me.”

“I see the glow of motherhood didn’t do wonders on your temper.” 

“Lo’ak… she will hurt you if you keep going.” Neteyam sighed, rolling his eyes in his baby brother’s direction. 

“Fine, fine. Just sing, Angel, please?” 

You looked at your mate who was eyeing you lovingly and strummed a song you knew he’d know, you knew he’d love. You saw his eyes go wide and then settled on a look of wonderment and euphoria, a look you’ve seen a lot of recently. You gave him a wink before you started singing.

We were in the backseat, drunk on something stronger than the drinks in the bar

"I rent a place on Cornelia Street”, I say casually in the car

We were a fresh page on the desk, filling in the blanks as we go

As if the street lights pointed in an arrowhead, leading us home

I hope I never lose you, hope it never ends

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

That's the kind of heartbreak time could never mend

I'd never walk Cornelia Street again

It was a sweet reunion, one you desperately needed, and as you spent the night catching up by the fire, Neteyam’s arms wrapped around you and the sounds of your family laughing and chatting away filling your ears, you felt lucky for everything good in your life, that overwhelmingly outweighed the bad, and hopeful for the future and all the beauty it would bring with it. 

Thank you again for this amazing journey. I love you all x

Taglist (thank you ily x) @changing7 @erenjaegerwifee @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @winchestertitties @puffb4ll @rebeccao03 @ultimatebluff @cottoncandy23 @zaddyneteyamlovergirl @n3t3y4msm4t3 @loquatious-josephi-krakousky @eternallyvenus @fresh-new-yoik-watah @lu-the-ghost-reader @@miawastakens @mm0thie @fanboyluvr @amortencjja @lovekeeho @trixscarlett

[lizpaige]

i'm writing a post-gw adam comes to terms with leaving harvard fic and just feeling lost and stagnant after everyone else had so much growth in the dreamer trilogy and he became liar mcliar-pants. idk if i will ever post it/finish it but i have so many ideas for it (maybe make it into a series of things?) and am having fun writing it so here's a lil snippet

Adam wondered if Ronan was thinking about the last time he came to visit him at Harvard. They sat in silence for a minute or more, Adam stared out the windshield looking at the brick buildings covered in ivy, picturesque collegiate haven. 

“What’s the plan?” Ronan asked after a while. His disinterested tone was practiced but insincere. He was trying not to pry after the last time they discussed Adam and school and feeling lost without a plan, but here they were back at the ivy covered gates. He hadn’t brought it up since, but Adam could tell he wanted to know. Adam just wished he knew himself.

“Spring break is the end of March,” Adam replied, not answering Ronan’s question fully but answering what he could.

Ronan hummed, giving him space to speak again. When Adam didn’t he continued, “I can come up sooner. Shit, maybe actually make it to those apartments to look at.” 

Adam swallowed the lump in his throat. Would Harvard feel better if Ronan was close by? Three and a half years left and Adam would be done with undergrad. He could make it through three and a half years, he’d been through worse for longer. Plus he didn’t really want to take Ronan away from whatever was next. Ronan finally broke free of the chains that kept him close to the Barns, to the ley line. He could join Blue, Gansey, and Henry on the end of their trip if he wanted to. He could go anywhere. Why would Adam keep him stuck in Cambridge? Waiting around for Adam to finish school or work or whatever else when he could be living a life. 

Everything was changing around him and yet Adam kept himself stuck to the same routine. 

“Yeah, maybe,” Adam managed, chest feeling tight. He stared out the window, gaze unfocused as his mind naturally ran through what potentially awaited him back at Thayer Hall. The Crying Club asking questions, final exam results, a list of ridiculously expensive textbooks for his new semester of classes, an angry manager at his job at the autobody shop. If he still had a job? 

Ronan grabbed Adam’s hand, tangling their fingers together over the center console. He squeezed. “Earth to Parrish.”

Adam huffed a laugh. “Sorry didn’t sleep well last night, I-”

“I love you.”

Oh.

Adam closed his mouth. This was also new: Ronan saying he loved Adam. Tamquam alter idem no longer seemed appropriate after being reunited weeks ago, after melting into one another's subconscious thoughts. While it seemed so easy for Ronan to say, he knew there was a reason they had opted away from I love yous at first. Both of them had their gripes with it: Adam, feeling unlovable for a majority of his life, wasn’t sure if he was allowed to feel this way, let alone say it, and Ronan, who lost nearly every person he ever loved, was still healing the wounds that loss left him. 

While Ronan seemed to move past this in his new confidence of life, Adam still struggled. It’s like they were moving at a different pace. Once, Adam had been so sure of where he was going in life, who he was meant to become, but now Ronan seemed to take that place and Adam was left lagging behind.

[xkleipsis]

High and Low

Pt.1 arranged marriage

Norihisa Hyuga x f.reader

P.1 P.2 P.3

(My first time writing on tumblr, and 1st time doing such trope so bear w me 🫶)

—————————————————————————

It was thundering by the time I finally had landed in Japan, luckily the flight wasn’t delayed and neither there were any issues of sort. After collecting by suitcases, which didn’t contain much as i plan on buying more here, i got a cab and showed the driver the address.

As i sat back to relax, or at least attempt to, i try to recall the trouble i got myself into. Hadn’t I tried to purposefully irritate the elders, they wouldn’t have convinced my parents into this marriage; a marriage with a crazy guy who sought revenge and had recently got out of jail. Apparently he also isn’t keen to this idea. Many aren’t, sure having someone in the family who runs a gang its beneficial, considering the elders want to expend their business here in japan, but, my parents are against this, strangely enough most of my relatives are too, and probably is so this main of a ex-convict.

But am i against it? I asked myself this multiple times and everytine i cant decide. If i was really against it then i would’ve ran away, frankly speaking its very easy, but i guess i have nothing to lose. No matter what, had i brought another guy stating he was the love of my live, these elders would’ve still complained unless the poor boy would’ve brought them anything useful for status and power and more nonsense.

I just hope he’s decent. No, he has to at least have a nice personality. Bad looks? I can manage, i can simply not wear glasses around the house, having a negative 5 eyesight can be handy. But he cant have a shit personality, i cant risk my blood pressure.

I look outside the window as it rains, while the car drives at a reasonable speed, and before i knew it, i was here. Outside the main meet up place of his gang, I should’ve at least be given the actual address, no? As i thank the driver i notice a look of unease in his eyes, and shit i dont blame him, one might even think we’re in a middle of the forest from how it looked.

After taking my suitcase i start to head in the old styled house, i mean the door was open.. as i entered i could feel weird looks from men, most of the wearing red jackets and chains, until i asked one of them if they could bring me to hyuga, and without saying much, he led the way, as if he was waiting for me.

I was brought to another room, much quieter, there sat a man who looked like had been smoking, wearing a red jacket over his shoulder and golden chained hanging from his neck. He looked me up and down before i spoke, ‘so? You are, i believe my fiancé??”

He just stared at me before replying “yeah” in a obvious rude tone before getting up and walking towards me. Maybe because i was tired from the flight, perhaps even jet-lagged but i was already trying to study his looks.

“Lets get something clear from the beginning, im not interested in you or in such things. You got problems? Dont bother me with them. Do not get involved in any of my business and dont irritate me at all” he says, coldly? Nah, more like in a commanding tone.

I take a deep breath, before forcing a smile “sure, i shall not bother his highness with any trivial matters” a hint of sarcasm in my tone, before adding in “so where will i be staying?” I ask.

“At my house, guest room” he replies, “here?” As i glance around the place, now im no spoiled daughter but- “do you think i live here?” He raises an eyebrow, irritated as i shrugs my shoulders after looking him from head to toe. He scoffs “I have main house, my men will drive you there” he replies before leaving the room as if somewhere to be, while one of his men tells me to follow him.

(If anyone has any suggestions you think i can improve on lmk)

[mistletoefletcher]

I didn't want it to come to this. It was a simple rivalry, that's all. But it's gone too far. The rich bastards who funded my "evil" plans are demanding his demise. All of that work to fight the hero, and it somehow ends in his defeat. I can't let it end this way, when it wasn't even my plan that stopped him. "Let me interrogate him. I'm sure he has some kind of backup plan, right? Let me get it out of him." I really hoped The Investor would let me in. And there wasn't much reason for him to say no. What villain would pass up the chance to let another villain torture the hero? "Very well. Report back to me with any important information when you're done." I was in. I wasn't going to let this chance slip from my fingers. As I walked into the dungeon, the hero looked at me from his position, chained to the wall. "How amusing to see you so pathetically captured like this. It's quite vexing that I haven't seen you like this before." I had to keep up the act, or else the plan would fall through. For once, the plan had to work, or else everything was finished. "What do you want Villain? Here to rub my defeat in my face, just like your precious Investor?" That truly stung. I'd hated The Investor since I started working with him. I only continued because he had such a strong grasp on my finances. If I'd had it any other way, he and I would have never met, and I would have caught the hero on my own terms. "Not at all, dear hero. No no, I would never gloat about a capture I myself had never achieved. This was all thanks to the wonderful planning of The Investor themself! I'm quite proud to have such a masterful ally for my cause, of course." I get as close as I can to the hero, hoping that he understood I didn't want him captured like this. "But of course, you knew this already. I'm sure you know just how hard it is to escape this place. The only exits in your cell are through those vents. Oh so close, and yet unreachable in your imprisoned state. How unfortunate for you, it seems." Once I've said this, I quickly move in to kiss him. Obviously the hero was shocked at first, but I'm sure he realized quickly why I was doing this when the metal hit his lips. I deftly placed the key under his tongue,then pulled away, giving him the most urgent look I could, without raising suspicion from the guards. "Ah, just as I thought. The great hero of this land is a terrible kisser. Anything to say in your defence, your greatness?" I gave a second to pause, knowing why he couldn't reply, but enjoying the look of shocked anger he gave me. "I thought not. Many have been left speechless after I get through with them." I turned and began to walk out. "Just remember that during the execution tomorrow. Remember that I, the lowly villain, was the last person to kiss you before you died." I finally walked out, confident in the hero, knowing that he would have gotten the message. The next day, right before the execution,it turned out the hero was missing. Apparently he had stolen a key off of a guard, unlocked his chains, and escaped through the vents in the dungeon. Strangely though, no one could figure out how he stole the key from a guard posted on the other side of the hideout. Who could have ever guessed that the hero's longest rival, The Villain, could have helped him to freedom.

[kasienda]

A Miraculous Reveal - Representation

Spoilers for Representation (5x24) Link to Ao3

...

Chat Noir swings wildly at the akuma who is his father. Adrien is almost glad Ladybug has yet to show up. He doesn’t have a plan, he almost doesn’t want to fix this one. It just feels good to lash out, to hurt this man and send him crashing to the ground, for every blow to make solid contact against the man who seems bent on stealing every good thing in his life. 

As Chat Noir, he doesn’t have to listen to his father. He can resist, he can fight. He can cataclysm anything that stands in his way as many times as he needs to! 

He can do all the things he can’t do as Adrien. 

Why can’t he fight as Adrien?!

“I feel sorry for your son!” 

“Don’t be. He’s very happy,” Nightormentor replies.  

Adrien is thrown by the statement. Was his father referring to the fact that he’s in love with Marinette, or does he actually think Adrien is happy locked away in some tower with an arranged relationship not of his own choosing a five hundred kilometers away from the most important person in his life. 

The akuma broke past his defenses, knocking the wind from his chest. He coughs as he inhales the sparkling dust of his father’s power. The magic settles around him, clinging to his eyes and throat. Reality dissolves around him.

Everything is silent like his ears are clogged with cotton. He turns frantically in every direction. Everything is destroyed. The moon split in half, every building a crumbled skeleton of what it once was. Human-sized statues made of ash surround him as far as his eyes can see. 

He looks down, and Marinette is there in his arms, as black as his cataclysmic power. He jerks backwards and her form dissolves into ash and dust in his arms. 

“What happened?!” he demands, trying to push back his rising panic. Where’s the akuma? There had to be an akuma somewhere to have caused all of this. 

“The same thing that always happens when a child can’t control their anger.” It’s the same voice. The deep foreboding voice that Adrien can never block out, can never escape.  

He did this? No! 

“No! It’s not real!” he screams, clutching his head.

Next thing he knows, Kim’s hovering over him. “You okay, there buddy? Because we could really use your help right now.” 

But Adrien isn’t sure how much help he can be. He’s never stood up to his father and won.

He doesn’t include this time as an exception even when Nightormentor’s staff dissolves under his cataclysm because it was The Resistance that defeated this akuma. 

Not Chat Noir. 

He flies to Marinette’s balcony as soon as it’s safe to do so, letting his transformation fall the moment almost the moment he lands. He’s not sure what he wants to say to her, but he needs to see her. Just once if not every day.

He’s about to knock on her skylight when the nightmare strikes a second time. 

He clutches his head and falls onto his knees as the vision sweeps through him again.

“No,” he sobs. “It’s just a nightmare. It’s not real! I would never do this!” he insists.

Plagg purring at the crook of his neck brings him back to himself once again. 

“Plagg! I don’t know what to do. I miss Marinette so much even though it hasn’t even been a day. But I can’t disobey him. And I’m also scared of putting her in danger. I could—“ he clutches his hand into a fist, imagining the power of cataclysm crackling at his fingertips. “—destroy everything.” 

“Adrien, you've just come into your own as the holder of destruction!” Plagg says. “I know you will find a way to break free of your chains. All of them.” 

Adrien shakes his head. How can he do that when he can’t even say the word no to his father, let alone actually defy his orders? 

It all feels so impossible. 

The trapdoor window to Marinette’s room opens. 

He tenses, still uncertain what he wants to say. He shouldn’t have come here. As much as he wants to see her — needs to see her, he can’t protect her, he can’t explain how he’s there without putting her in danger. 

She startles when she sees him, then approaches him slowly. 

“Adrien?”

She’s wearing a flowing white dress with intricate pink flowered embroidery that he’s certain she hand-stitched herself. Her eyes are puffy, red, and underlined with dark streaks of mascara running down her cheeks. 

It kills him that she’s been crying. He knows it’s his fault because he couldn’t say no to his father. It’s just another example of his weakness, of his selfishness that he wants her love anyway even though she deserves someone who can stand up for her.

In spite of himself, he reaches out for her. She takes his hand, and he pulls her against him, feeling shaky. He buries his head into her shoulder.

“Is it really you?” she asks. 

“Who else would I be?” he asks absently. 

“Felix.” 

He tenses and pulls away, gripping her at the elbows tightly, searching her face for jest and finding none. “What did he do?”

She waves away his concern. “He led me on a wild goose chase through the city. But in the end he only told me a story.”

“A story?” he repeats, confused. “What story? Why?” 

Marinette put a hand on his chest. “Adrien, take a breath.” 

He does as she says, feeling some of the tension within him bleed out. It always does when he’s in her arms. An experience he’s had on precious few occasions. If only he realized his feelings for her sooner. 

“I’m really happy to see you,” he whispers.

“Me too,” she says back, leaning her head onto his chest. “I feel like I’ve been looking for you all night. How are you here?” 

He tenses all over again, unsure of how to answer that question. He knows what he wants to tell her. The truth, and all of it! But the vision of Marinette’s ashen form cradled in his arms flies through his head and he’s terrified.

It’s just a dream, a nightmare sent to him by an akuma. It wasn’t real. That wasn’t going to happen. He was careful. He would never hurt her. 

He would never hurt her.

“Are you okay?” she asks when he doesn’t answer her question. 

He shakes his head, tears falling down his face of their own volition. 

She squeezes his hand. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it together,” she promises.

And some part of him melts. She really believes that, but he can’t see any way to win. 

Even Chat Noir couldn’t stand up to Nightormentor. Not on his own.  

“My father wants me to stay in London. He wants to control every aspect of my life. And I tried for so long to earn his admiration and approval, but it’s impossible. And what has it ever gotten me? It’s never enough and I can’t do it anymore. I can’t.” 

Her grip tightens around his hand. “Shhh, it’s okay.” 

“But I can’t get away. It’s like, the second he’s in the room, I can’t… I can’t disobey him, Marinette. I don’t know why. I try, I think I’m going to, and then I just do what he wants anyway. I’m sorry that I’m so weak.” 

Tears break past his battered defenses and he drops his head into his knees. He’s shaking so hard, but Marinette never lets go. If anything, she clings to him harder. 

“Adrien, does he… does he have a ring that he always wears?”

He glances up, completely thrown by the random question. “Uh, yes. He has his and my mother’s wedding ring. Nathalie has been wearing the other. Why?” 

“The story. The story Felix told me! He said that the two princesses gave birth to two boys who were as similar as their mothers. You and Felix. Felix – he was controlled by his father all his life through a ring, and he was only able to break free once his father died and he had the ring for himself. It sounds like it’s the same for you.”

Adrien blinks several times, his brain trying to understand what she’s saying. 

Then the tears come back full strength, and he’s trembling like an earthquake. 

“Adrien?”

But he’s crying in relief. He wasn’t weak and spineless. He was literally being controlled like a puppet on strings. 

And then he was angry. 

He looks up into Marinette’s concerned crystal blue eyes that seem to pierce straight through him. “I don’t understand. How?” 

Her hands tighten around his and his clings to the lifeline that she’s providing. He fears that he’s weighing her down, that he can never give her everything she deserves, especially if he literally can’t go against his father.

“Felix said his mother and yours were infertile. They tried and tried to have babies, and they never could.” 

Adrien stares at her. This was new information. Why had Felix told Marinette all of this? And not him? 

“So your parents found and used the peacock miraculous–” 

He hissed in a breath.

“--and their desire to have a child to create a pregnancy.” 

“So I’m… I’m… some kind of sentimonster?” 

She shakes her head violently. Her hands on either side of his face. “No, you are not a monster. You are the kindest, most beautiful person I have ever met.” 

He held her hands and wrists against his face, needing to feel her holding him as his stomach dropped. 

“But he can literally control me?” 

She nods. “I think so. Felix asked me for help. He has his ring, and Kagami has hers.” 

“Kagami too?” he whispers.

She nods again. 

Kagami - forceful, ever confident, and never-hesitate-Kagami who he looked up to - could be controlled with a ring.

He could be controlled with a ring, snapped out of existence with the peacock miraculous. 

No wonder Felix had been willing to trade all the other miraculouses for it. 

He can’t breathe. 

The vision of a shattered moon on a red sky, surrounded by destruction and decay flashes through his mind’s eye again. A new dark heavy presence stands behind him, controlling every movement, directing his miraculous powers against everything Chat Noir is supposed to protect, against everything that he loves.

The nightmare suddenly feels all too possible. 

If his father ever learns his identity, he can make Adrien destroy anything his father disapproves of. 

Like Marinette. 

He scuttles backward from her, his back crashing against the railing of her balcony. 

“Adrien! What’s wrong?” Marinette asks, standing over him like an avenging angel. She reaches out to hold him, but he holds a hand out and shakes his head. She stops, but tears are falling silently down her cheeks. Her dress is fluttering around her, and strands of her hair have fallen from her updo, framing her face. Her eyes are like shining lights in his darkness. 

God, she’s so amazing, so strong. 

And he can’t ever be what she deserves. Not when he isn’t his own person.

He buries his eyes under his fists. The rest of him crumples like tissue paper. She wraps around him like a warm blanket on the coldest of nights, and he lets himself fall into warmth and love. This might have to be the last time, so it will have to last him forever.

“I love you,” he says through his devastation. “So much.”

“I love you, too. Talk to me please.” 

He untangles himself from her embrace and struggles to collect himself. It shouldn’t be that hard. He’s done it so many times before. 

“Marinette,” he starts, slipping his miraculous from his finger with a broken sob. It feels like he’s tearing off a limb, but he would do anything for her. He opens her palm, places the ring in her grasp, and closes her fingers around it.  “You have to take this from me, keep it safe so I can’t ever hurt anyone, so I can never hurt you.”

She looks down into her hand, her eyes frozen on the now-black ring in her hand. Her gaze darts up to his face, and then back down to the ring.

“You’re Chat Noir,” she breathes. 

“I’m Chat Noir,” he confirms. “I was going to use it to come visit you, so we could stay together even if I was exiled to London. I figured I had to come back for akumas anyway, but… but if my father can literally control me, I can’t keep it. He could discover it, take it, and force me to betray Ladybug and everyone I love. I can’t go through that! Will you please keep it safe for me?.

“No!” she cries, trying to shove the ring back towards him. “You can’t give this up!” she insists. “You can’t!”

He caresses the side of her tear-streaked face, and smiles softly. “I need you to take this for me, Marinette. There’s no one I love or trust more than you.”

Her fist pounds on his chest. He grabs her arm and pulls her against him. 

“Please?”

She shakes her head. “No, you don’t understand. I need you.” 

“I’m sorry. I wish there was a way for us to be together, but if he ever found out–”

“He won’t!” 

“Marinette, he could literally just order me to reveal all my secrets and it’d be done. He could order me to give him my miraculous. He can’t have it. Not ever.”

Her eyes well with tears. He kisses the top of her head. 

“What about Ladybug?!” she demands. 

“I think I’m only a liability to her right now. I’m a sentimonster. You’ll–” 

“You’re not a monster!” Her voice is shrill. 

He smiles again, feeling strangely at peace. “You’ll be an amazing partner to Ladybug in my stead.” 

“No! I can’t take this from you. It’s yours! It’s your freedom! And I can’t be Ladybug’s partner anyway.”

“Of course you can!” he reassures. “I remember Multimouse. You had every miraculous in the box. You were amazing! You could use any of them.”

She shakes her head, tears pouring from her eyes.  

“Marinette,” he begs. “Please!” 

“I can’t be Ladybug’s partner,” she says again, her voice suddenly clear and firm. She looks up at him, and he can’t breathe at the depth in her swirling blue eyes. “She needs you. I need you.” 

His mind is swirling, on the precipice of something grand, he knows it, but he can’t grasp onto it. 

“Tikki, spots on,” she whispers. And in a sparkling wave of pink light, Marinette is gone, transformed and it’s his partner sitting before him with tears in her eyes. “Please Chaton,” she begs. “I have told you over and over, I can’t do this without you. You are irreplaceable. You are perfect. I will never ever abandon you. Please, please don’t abandon me.” 

He can’t move, he can’t speak. 

She takes up his hand, and holds up the ring, but she pauses her eyes on his, waiting for his permission. 

“I don’t want to be turned against you,” he says weakly. 

“Whatever he makes you do,” she snarls, “you will never actually be against me. You will fight him, I will fight for you. And neither of us will rest until you are free, truly and completely free. Please, please be my partner again.”

And he is already in love with her. He fell for Ladybug a long time ago, the day they met for a moment almost exactly like this one. He fell for Marinette more recently, slowly after another thousand instances of her standing her ground again and again. 

But in this moment, looking at her with determination and love shining from every pore, he falls in love with her all over again.

She can’t conceive of a battle that she can’t win no matter how much the deck is stacked against her. And really, he can’t conceive of a battle she can’t win either. Chat Noir has always had the front row seat to watching her come out on top again and again through creative genius, persistence, and a fierce determination to protect everyone she loves.

Her cause is right, and her sense of justice is stronger than her doubt, and her love is stronger than her fear.

And so he can’t deny her. With his lips stretched into a watery smile, he nods his permission. 

She slips the ring back onto his finger and it feels like coming home after being lost in a blizzard. 

Their arms are around each other in an instant, and he knows that as long as he has her, as long as she cares and believes in him, he will always fight anyone and everyone that stands against them. 

Even his father.  

And with her by his side, how can they ever lose? 

[matan4il]

To the Nonnie who said you're trying to

"understand the position i have seen from israelis and jews and others that say "conceding" to a ceasefire would be equal to destroying the whole of the jewish people, here and now, because it would be giving hamas time to regroup"...

I've actually already addressed why allowing Hamas to rebuild, when they openly say they will continue to do everything they can to continue massacring Israeli Jews, is asking Israel to agree to the inevitable killing of more of its civilians.

But since I got this question again, I will add something that might shed even more light on this.

In 2014, a chain of events led Israel to conduct a ground operation in Gaza to destroy Hamas' terror tunnels. It was the most intense fighting between Israel and Hamas up to that point. Israelis paid a price for it (5 civilians and 70 soldiers killed), and so did the Palestinians (reportedly 2,203 people killed, of which at least 1,408 were terrorists).

What I personally remember the most is that there were Hamas terror tunnels that were found leading to kindergartens and schools. It was evident that Hamas meant to use these tunnels to kidnap and kill specifically kids.

Many Israelis realized at that point that Hamas is never going to stop trying to kill innocent Israeli civilians, just because they're Jewish. A lot of people called for the operation to continue, and for Hamas to be taken down. Israel was already in Gaza, Hamas was so much weaker due to the fighting, and losing a lot of its terrorists, why not use this opportunity, finish this organization off, and make sure it can't rebuild and execute its horrifying plans?

But like I said, this was considered the most intense fight between Israel and Hamas yet, and as the number of reported fatalities grew, so did international pressure on Israel to reach a ceasefire. It did.

And here's the thing: Hamas WAS so much weaker at that point. It had less weapons, it was endangering less civilians, it had less training and funding, less military experience, less terror tunnels... less of everything that makes it lethal to both Israelis and Palestinians. The cost in human life to both sides at that point, if Israel had resisted a ceasefire, if it had insisted that this genocidal, terrorist organization has to be taken down, would have been so much smaller than the price we're all paying for the fighting now, not to mention the victims of the massacre (or the many Israelis and Palestinians who died due to Hamas between Aug 27, 2014 and Oct 6, 2023).

I personally do not wanna find out how many more innocent Israelis AND Palestinians would die because of Hamas, if we repeat the same mistake, and agree to a ceasefire, while that fanatic and brutal terrorist organization is still in control of Gaza. I don't wanna know how many more Israelis and Palestinians would die if we have to fight again in the future to finally take down Hamas, but more than that, I shatter to think what Hamas would do to Israeli civilians next time, in order to convince Israel that this organization must be dismantled. The price for making the mistake of leaving it in power the first time was so much worse than anything that I could have imagined, so I do not wanna know what else they're capable of doing.

Do you?

(for all of my updates and ask replies regarding Israel, click here)

[vodika-vibes]

Well of course I have another request if you can find the time.

From blossoming romance writing prompts. With Darman.

12. nervous embarrassment around them (blushing, fidgeting etc)

mixed with

20. Clumsy attempts at flirting.

Thank you. 😊

Blossoming Romance

Summary: You've been tripping over yourself around Darman for ages now, and he finally decides to do something about it.

Pairing: Darman Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 696

Warning: None

A/N: I'm sorry it's so short, but I wasn't sure how to drag this out longer without making it painful, lol.

Divider by Saradika

When you agreed to join the GAR as a civilian consultant, you honestly thought that the hardest part of your job was going to be the whole war aspect.

Not having to deal with a planet sized crush on one of the men you work with.

It’s so…humiliating. 

You can’t even talk to him without stuttering, blushing, and fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. And he seems to delight in it, because he intentionally goes out of his way to make sure that he talks to you as much as possible.

And you’re not even going to think about the clumsy way you’ve been flirting with him. Small comments and actions that you’re very pointedly not thinking about, because if you do then you’ll remember.

And if you remember then you’ll just want a hole to open up in the ground and swallow you whole.

But fortunately, you’re not thinking about that right now.

Right now you’re sitting at your desk, tapping your pen against your temple as you read over the requisition report that you’re about to send up the chain. It has to be perfect, because if it isn’t then it might get sent back, and you need these parts to make the gunship work again.

You’re so engrossed in your work, that you don’t hear the door to your office open. And you don’t hear the person approaching your desk. At least not until his knuckles rap against the desk, “Working hard, cyar’ika?”

You jump at the unexpected noise, and you look up at Darman with wide eyes, “D-Darman?”

“In the flesh,” He replies with a grin as he moves to the side of the desk and leans his weight against it, standing just a little too close to you for it to be proper. 

“Uh…can I help you?” You ask as you start nervously tapping your pen against your desk.

“Mm. No, I just want to be near you.”

You make a startled noise and your pen slips from your fingers, “Oh.” You squeak out, mentally cursing as you feel heat rushing to your face. 

Darman laughs, an easy grin on his handsome face, “Adorable,” He almost coos, his face lighting up in delight when your face grows even redder. He reaches out and takes some of your hair between his fingers, “I wonder, how many shades of red can I make you turn in one conversation.” He muses.

“You’re doing this on purpose?” You ask, mortified.

“You’ve been about as subtle as a brick to the face about your crush, cyar’ika,” Darman agrees gleefully, his delight growing when your face flames red.

“So you’re picking on me?” You ask.

“Only a little.” He ducks his head and brings your hair to his lips, pressing a light kiss against the strands of your hair in his fingers.

You stare at him, your eyes wide, “Um…what-?”

“Do you have any plans tomorrow?” He interrupts.

“No?”

“Great. We’re going to get dinner. Wear something pretty.” Darman says as he finally releases your hair.

“...are you asking me on a date?” you ask, stunned.

“That is what just happened, yes.” He replies with a grin, “And if we both enjoy it, I’ll ask you to be my girlfriend at the end of the night. And then I can make you blush in different ways.”

“W-wait-”

He arches a single brow, “What’s wrong, cyare? Not interested in a date with me?”

“I didn’t say that!” You blurt, “Just, this is going very quickly!”

“Didn’t want to give you the chance to say no.” He shrugs, “So. Let’s try again. Would you like to go out to dinner with me tomorrow night?”

You blush as you feel his intense gaze locked on your face, “Yes, please. I would like that.”

“Super.” He leans in and presses a kiss to the corner of your lips, “Then I’ll see you then.” Darman picks your pen back up and presses it into your hand, “Now, back to work, cyar’ika.”

You, dazedly, take your pen back and watch him wink at you and leave your office. And then you giggle, and press your fingers against the spot Darman just kissed.

[landofzero-archive]

Ibara Saegusa - Private Room Chapter 2

Writer: Nishioka Maiko

Season: Autumn

(Location: CosPro Conference Area)

(One week later)

Ibara: —Yes, yes. I believe I explained that many times the other day, right? I’ll send you the materials via email.

That’s right. I’ll contact that person from here.

No. Everyone makes mistakes, so please be careful in the future. Yes, yes. Thank you. Then, please excuse me.

Haah…… Is it an email this time? Uumm……?

—Ahh, come on! What the hell is going on with this situation……!

Problems occur here and there every day! Even when I fix one problem, two more problems pop up in different places at the same time!

This is nothing short of abnormal!

Another email? Yes, yes. What happened this time?

…… What? ‘My working hours have increased too much this month, so why don’t I take some time off somewhere?’ What are they talking about……?

It’s true that I’ve been busy this month due to filming and management duties, and for the past week or so I’ve been working overtime all the time in order to deal with problems.

…… However, there’s no way I could honestly take a day off in this current situation. This is a person who doesn’t know the situation, so……

(No…… Wait. It’s certainly not the time to take a long break.

Recently, the real situation of major agencies with black labor systems has been a hot topic…… (1)

The public will be looking for the next sacrificial company to pop up in the news in a chain reaction.

Under such circumstances, it would be too risky for me to collapse from overwork as the deputy director……)

Damn…… I have no choice. I’ll quickly finish my day off tomorrow and return to the front line as soon as possible.

(Location: Starmony Dorms (Exterior))

Aira: Uummm…… Copy and paste the inquiry number here. All I have to do is start the inquiry~

—The status is complete! It’s almost arrived! My oshi’s national tour disc♪

What a reli~ef. I thought it would arrive later. I have plenty of time before I go to bed, so I’m gonna enjoy this to the fu~llest today.

That’s why I bought a lot of sweets and drinks. I won’t be leaving my room after today……!

Nazuna: O~i, Aira-chin. Isn’t it dangerous to walk while looking at your phone~?

Aira: Ah, Nito-senpai! Sorry. I couldn’t help but wonder if my package had arrived. Ehehee.

Nazuna: Package? Oh, were you tracking your courier package?

I understand why you’re worried about its status, but it’s still dangerous. By the way, what kind of package are you getting?

Aira: It’s the national tour disc for my favorite idol! I’ve been looking forward to its release!

Right now, my roommates Sakuma-senpai and Tenshouin-senpai are away at a long-term location shoot.

So even if I make noise, I won’t bother anyone, and I think I’ll have a good time at my solo viewing party.

I’m planning to go back to my room and start right away— hm?

Huh? Is there some kind of contractor at the dorms right now?

It looks like there are long pipes being brought in and large trucks going in and out. Outsiders also seem to be wandering around? Is there something going on?

Nazuna: Ahh…… Come to think of it, I heard that there was a problem with the water pipes on our floor and that the repair work begins today.

Aira: Ehh!? Construction!?

Th-This can’t be happening~…… Even though I just wanted to enjoy my disc quietly today~……

Nazuna: Ah. But from what I heard, the construction work will be done in the morning. Aren’t they just doing the demolition work now?

So I think we can have some quiet time after this~

Aira: Wh- that’s good news……♪ Then I don’t have to worry! See ya, Nito-senpai. I’m gonna pick up my luggage right away!

Nazuna: Alright, have fun. Bye~♪

(Location: Starmony Dorm Room (Eichi, Rei, Aira's Room))

Aira: I’m back~☆

– Even though I said that, Sakuma-senpai and Tenshouin-senpai are away for a few days due to long-term location work so there’s no way I’d get a reply.

In the end, I feel a little lonely without my seniors……

Well, it can’t be helped. It’s work. And that’s why I can watch discs without hesitation.

Ah, that’s right! I have to open the package right away! I have to be careful not to damage the package inside……

Uwaai♪ As expected of the first limited edition! There’s lots of bonuses!

Arrange the goods and discs neatly~. Take a photo! Alright! I’ll upload it to SNS later♪

Then, let’s finally have the viewing party for today’s main event—

Hmm? My face feels a little sticky. Maybe there’s still some foundation left over from work this morning……?

It’s hard to lie down in bed like this. I’ll wash my face before the viewing party.

Once I start watching it, I don’t want to be distracted by anything else. I have to be fully prepared!

…… Huhh? Even though I’ve turned the faucet all the way, the water isn’t coming out…… Isn’t that weird?

It was normal until this morning. It doesn’t look like there’s anything particularly wrong with the lower pipe.

Could it be that the water in the room is off because they’re doing repair work on the water system……?

Ehh? That’s a problem~……! I just wanted to wash my face and have a watch party.

Get the water flowing! Hey, hey!

—Eh!? The handle of the faucet came off!? UWAWAWAWAWAWA!? THE WATER’S GUSHING OU~T!?

W-Wait a minute! Can someone please stop thiiiiiiiiis!?

---

TL NOTES:

Black labor systems are systems where corporations operate with exploitative working conditions or a toxic company culture. They typically hire lots of young workers only to then force them to work large amounts of overtime without overtime pay (hence why Ibara doing so much overtime could cause a scandal for CosPro).

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[astronautbeans]

IM BACK AGAIN (THEBYTER)

Ive thought more of it... Spoke wouldn't want to comfort parrot imo he did do allat with the fake secret just to let out his anger on him so id imagine Ash would bring it up to laugh in parrots face and maybe nudge spoke to laugh too because Theyre so Similiar. Ripping away Parrot's friend from him. It strikes Spoke's last sense of defense in a way........ Like...

"Oh fuck I really am I like ash" s "I knew you'd come around , sooner or later the outcome won't change." a

The ceremony to me is like a big gathering or some iron trims , all gold and diamond trims with ash basically monologing the entire time if he doesnt urge spoke to reply

Also it would ruin any chance of spoke ever being free from the mafia because word spreads around. The big bad mafia boss has a non invis player working for him? And it's the guy that everyone has suspected(alongside mapicc) to be affiliated with the mafia?(Ifeel like im going insane mentioning this part because its so important to me. People saw Spoke and mapicc with mafia members , now they know Spoke is part of the highest ranked mafia. It all clicks together.)

I want to write Mapicc chewing him out because of it, spoke doesnt speak but once mapicc does lock eye contact with him something is genuinely off with spoke ,he's not the same guy who he sees as a little brother anymore. OK SORRY DEVIOUS SIBLINGS GOT TO ME Back on track now.

Another way id see ash make his win over spoke more visible would be adding amethyst to the horn bands.... i keep thinking of them What if spoke had like different horn accessories but cuz he had to go invis he took them off and now he has no more space left for them because of the gold/amethyst bands and chains and theyre also a bit too tight to take them off without pain so he just leaves them on........

I just thiught of hiw would spoke react to ash hugging him but like as a way to threaten tobreak his bones if he tries to do something stupid. Ash has mentioned multiple times that hes cut off people's hands in previous videos so Thats not too far of a stretch...Ill be back when I lose my shit again at 2am

jgfdsk hi sorry i finally got around to replying to this my bad it took so long

maybe he wouldn't outright comfort him but he knows loss too. every friend that dies, every person that dies in this world is gone forever,, and at some point he'd been friends with Parrot too. letting him just suffer like this is cruel. he'd hesitate, for sure. Ash is turning him into a monster, turning off his feelings. maybe he doesn't comfort him but he sure as hell feels his chest tighten with shared grief at the hatred on Parrot's face. directed at him because he's part of this too,,,

also gosh yeah of course word gets around. of course Spoke isn't the only one who's infiltrated the mafia. some people dare to hope, that it's all part of the plan, others see it for what it is: Spoke is one more face of the mafia.

AND YEAH OH MY DAYS MAPICC WOULD FIND HIM SOMEWHERE AFTER AND TELL HIM TO MAKE A CHOICE. his friends? or the mafia? and all Spoke can think is 'don't we have the same goal here?' even if he's been blinded by his own doubts and Ash's manipulation <3 this is not his little brother anymore bro you're killing meeeeee Spoke's grown up all wrong and Mapicc can't help but feel somewhat responsible, right? he should've steered him into a better direction, not gotten him into this

gosh dude you have many good thoughts. the horn decorations being too tight sfhdghksfhdjs and the hug too??? sdhgfjgfshdkdshj oh my daysssssssss

[xumoonhao]

you know. the thing i find strangest about tumblr is how they so rarely listen to us, the people who use their app & site daily. like we all - for the vast majority imo - want the same, or at the very least similar, things. and this cant be something the staff is blind to - there are SO many posts with tens of thousands of notes saying this, and there are countless replies and reblogs to their DIRECT blog posts saying this, too.

we dont want live anymore, not that we ever wanted it in the first place. we dont wants nazis. we dont want terfs. we dont want porn bots. we dont want an algorithim or a 'for you' page or for you to give us posts 'based on our likes!' or any other way for you to show us posts other than posted by the blogs we follow. but you know what do we want??? for the search and tagging functions to work properly. to keep our custom blogs -- most of which have been crafted by users for themselves or others. to keep reblog chains. for trans people to not be flagged JUST because theyre trans. for poc to not have their blogs deleted for no reason. like…theres more, but these are the main ones i can remember off the top of my head. and its so fucking FRUSTRATING because i KNOW tumblr wants to make money - they literally have to. and they could. if they listened to US and what we want and what we dont want i just KNOW they could make so much money. if they made their site better they would get new users, bring back old users, and overall make the existing users much, much happier. they are literally holding themselves back by trying to craft themselves into every other social media site (a horrible plan just on surface alone; a personal blogging site is simply not the same as most social media, nor would it ever be. they are different in use alone.) and in doing so theyre going to lose users and, probably, run themselves into the ground in the end because theyre going to turn away the only people who really care to use the site right now. and its just…like i Want this site to succeed - not for any kind of allegiance to tumblr or anything, but just because this site is still a unique corner of the internet. like theres so many friends ive made on here, so many wonderful creators, and such a community on here thats not really present wideform on other sites. and like…idk. i just wish staff would stop trying to turn this site into something its not by bloating it with features literally NOBODY wants when theres things they could do that everyone wants. you know what i mean??

[the-whumpening]

The Caged Tiger | Part 2

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CW: violence, forced nudity, minor character “death,” dehumanization, medical whump, noncon bathing, blood, restraints, humiliation

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Sweat drips from Ash's brow, burning as it glides down his eyelids and into his tear ducts. His breath is staggered and rough; he stumbles to his hands and knees, a dribble of saliva and blood trailing out of his mouth. Owen's torn, limp body lays before him, sword still in hand.

"You're still holding back, aren't you?" Ozmund asks as he enters the dingy pit. With an easy wave of his hand, Owen's wounds stitch together, and he gasps back to life. Ash, too, is healed of his injuries; he can feel his energy and strength returning in an instant.

“Man!” Owen groans, “That never stops hurting! How many more times do we have to do this today, Oz? Personally, I think three deaths in one day is a lot.”

Although Ash is no stranger to death, killing Owen again and again, watching him being revived each time, is unnerving in ways he never imagined. Necromancy never sat quite right with him to begin with, but this . . . He can feel it in himself already—a hollowness that grows each time he’s healed and set upon his prey once more. It isn’t a cold detachment, blind to the pain they both experience, but rather a desolate ache. Something gets left behind, though he’s not quite sure what.

Ozmund glares at Owen, then consults the notebook he always carries with him. Snapping it shut, he sighs, “I suppose this will work for a baseline. Fine. Make yourself useful and start some tea, then. I’ll be in the lab for a while. Oh, and send down Faye—I’ll need her assistance.”

A shimmer of magic binds Ash’s hands, and an invisible force holds the chain around his neck, leading him like a dog behind Ozmund. He silently follows the winding halls, his head hung low and hair still matted with sweat. Each quiet fall of his bare feet thuds in his ears and keeps rhythm with his racing pulse.

Entering the lab, Ash is ushered against a wall, where his chain is latched to a ring mounted high in the stone. Unable to sit, he continues to stare holes into the floor, pulling his shoulders into himself as if to hide from view. Meanwhile, he can hear Ozmund bustling around the room, inspecting cabinets and drawers to pull out a few tools and arrange them on a stone slab table. Ash's anxiety builds as each piece is carefully lined up along the rest; his mind races wondering what Ozmund is planning.

He flinches as a timid knock on the door shatters the silence.

"Enter," Ozmund calls, still engrossed in his preparations.

Ash hesitantly glances up, finding a small, delicate elf carrying a tin wash basin filled with cleaning supplies. Although his pulse slows slightly seeing she's not a threat, a wave of humiliation takes its place as he realizes why she's there.

"Clean him up, please, Faye," Oz orders absently as he flips through pages in his notes. "Then we'll get measurements and vitals—the usual."

"Right away, sir," Faye replies. She smiles warmly at Ash, and he drops his gaze in response, his cheeks burning fiercely. Does she not know what he's up to? Does she just not care? Or maybe, Ash wonders as he notes the oak leaf pendant around her neck, she doesn't have a choice.

With deft efficiency, she empties her supplies from the tub and swiftly removes Ash's soiled clothes. His face reddens—even the tips of his ears flush bright pink. A distant instinct wants to cover himself with his tail, but he remembers with mounting shame that it's no longer there. Faye places the basin at his feet, and he steps in.

He could have lived with the humiliation of being stripped and bathed by a stranger, naked and shivering in the dungeon-like laboratory—embarrassed, certainly, but he could have dealt with that indignity. But to his dismay, Ozmund looks up from his notes at just that moment. Hot stinging tears burn at the corners of Ash's eyes; he tucks his chin deep in his shoulder to hide his face as Ozmund steps closer, arms folded, to observe.

“So,” Ozmund’s voice, clinical and clear, echoes through the room. Ash grits his teeth. “It seems a lot has changed since we last met. No stripes, no tail, no cat ears—I’d hardly call you a tiger at all. That eye is new as well.”

The creature dwelling behind Ash’s eye stirs, watching Ozmund with intense curiosity and whispering indecipherably. You’re still here? Ash reaches out mentally. Although it doesn’t reply, he can feel a kind of confirmation. Somehow, Hsa’s presence makes him feel a little less alone.

Impatient, Ozmund huffs. “Pardon the phrasing—that was a question. How exactly did this happen?”

Ash says nothing.

“Some magical transaction? Or is this a part of your life cycle?”

Still, Ash remains silent, his lips pressed in a tight line.

“Not that you’d understand, but this is important data,” Ozmund snipes. “Your dear sister and brother both exhibited transformations like this. It’s truly a shame I haven’t been able to study your eldest brother . . . yet, anyway. Still, three out of four isn’t bad.”

His stomach churns and bile rises in his throat—he’s done this to Kitara and Nino as well? I remembered her mentioning something about him, but . . . He’s grateful at the moment for Faye, who stands on a stool to clean his face and hair, blocking Ozmund’s view. An errant tear slips out of his eye, and she gives a pitying smile as she wipes it away. His shivering muscles feel suddenly on fire, shaking from white-hot rage. He clenches his jaw even tighter against the bitter, acidic taste on his tongue; don’t do this—don’t let him get to you.

“Fine, then. I’ll find out one way or another.” He wanders to the table, grabbing his book and supplies. “I like you better silent, anyway.”