#riding through the village was INSANE

[vdearest]

– seattle: day 3, abby – the escape

[on-a-lucky-tide]

Simon's body matures into its prime. There's only one mate he wants. #GhostPriceWeek.

Day One: Confession/Kneel.

cw: omegaverse, penetrative sex, dubcon by nature of Price's sex negative attitude, gentle sex, bonding. ( @gomzdrawfr )

Simon wasn't sure what had changed or why, but he knew he was looking at Price differently these days and he couldn't ignore it for much fuckin’ longer. It was driving him even more insane than he already was.

Price had been helping him–them, all of ‘em–through ruts for the last few years. When it had just been the two of them, Simon would spend the few days leave in Price's Hereford flat exhausting himself between Price's legs and then they would return to normal once the cycle had passed. It had been hard at first, trusting someone, but like in everything, Price had his back. He had only ever treated Simon with dignity and respect.

When the other two joined, Simon didn't bat an eyelid. It made sense. Price was logical like that; easier for them to fuck him and get it over with in a few days, than long it out over a week and risk them snooping around the local villages, potentially ending up with a pup brewing and an angry farmer at the barrack gates with a shotgun. Johnny had priors with it too. Simon had seen the indiscretions on his record, and Gaz was so painfully good-looking that Simon wouldn't be surprised if there were already a few Garrick pups knocking about North London. 

The arrangement bloody worked. Everyone seemed satisfied. So why had Simon started… yearning?

The word had appeared when he'd googled his symptoms one day in a coffee shop. He'd headed off base to do it because all the search histories passed over Price's desk at some point, with questionable or worrying shit highlighted by the IT team for review, and he really didn't need that conversation. “Why are your guts aching, Simon? Do you need medical?” Price would ask, that stern line between his brows, lips pressed down in a deep frown. 

No, sir, my intestines seem to twist themselves in knots every time I see you shirtless at the moment and I can't stop thinkin' about how much I want to shove my tongue down yer throat, now about that requisition form… 

But it wouldn't be like that. Simon would stand there in dumb silence trying to find the words to explain that being around Price at the moment made him ache in ways he had never experienced before. That when he was alone in his own flat a short bus ride away from base, he thought of their time together with a hand around his knot and his knuckles between his teeth. He thought about how good the indomitable John Price would look in the throes of heat, completely vulnerable.

He must have been acting differently, because Price had become more distant. Detached, almost. He was shorter, sharper, than Simon had ever known him to be, even when his temper occasionally flared in the face of red tape and stupidity. Simon needed to get this, whatever this was, under control.

Sitting in that café with his black coffee and Bakewell tart, Simon had learned that an alpha of his age was reaching full maturity and his body was ready to find a permanent mate. By mid-thirties, an alpha’s strength and esteem within a pack was fully established, or it would be if the world still worked like it did a few thousand years ago. If they were still in loincloths, Simon would have battered his fair share of pack alphas and worked his way to the top by now. An omega would select him as worthy and choose him to father their pups. His body was just doing what it had done throughout millennia. Preparing.

In all honesty, his sex ed’ had been woefully lacking. Partly because the mixed comprehensive he had attended had been in special measures and the PSHE lessons had been all out brawls at some points, but also because his attendance had dropped below fifty percent fairly regularly throughout his compulsory education. ‘Very intelligent and capable, but limited by his frequent absences,’ had been his school report a few months before he had scraped just enough GCSEs to fall into a trade apprenticeship, and then September eleventh had happened and his whole world outlook had changed.

The guidance on the website also told him that his scent would change. That he might experience more attention from fertile omegas, and notice their scents more, their bodies. There was a paragraph about consent that followed and Simon had winced at the implications of needing it. He had met enough knotheads in his time even outside his own deranged father, fuckin’ Roba, to know why it was there. While most omegas were dominant and fierce by nature, the modern world had flipped things. Sometimes it just wasn't that straight forward.

The notes said it would pass. By late forties, his hormones would ebb away to normal levels again and by then he'd either be mated or, in his case, probably dead. The odds weren’t exactly in his bloody favour with his current choice of career. They also said his attention would probably flit between options, from omega to omega, as his body sought to spread its genetics as far as possible.

Except it fucking didn't, did it?

There were other omegas on base. A gorgeous blonde in logistics with tits and arse for days, a strapping redheaded mechanic with strong thighs and a pretty smile, then there was the brunette in medical. But those are cursory observations. Simon saw them as attractive in the detached manner you looked at someone who was attractive in the traditional sense. Yeah, he could see it, but he didn't want it.

He wanted Price. His fockin’ captain.

Tart and coffee finished, Simon had headed back to base. He tried to exhaust himself in the gym, finished some paperwork, and eventually wandered to the mess hall for some dinner. It was just as he was tucking into a pile of mashed potatoes and gravy that his phone pinged. 

CJP: My office.

Simon chucked his tray onto the trolley and headed out. By the time he was knocking on Price's door, his heart was beating hard in anticipation. Of fuckin’ what, he had no idea. Clearly needed to watch less porn because the image his mind provided of Price spread out on his desk, presenting, was bloody unhelpful.

“Simon.” Price acknowledged him with a glance as he shut the door behind him. The room was warm, the old radiator beneath the window chucking out more heat than was strictly necessary this early in October. The lights were dim too, the brightness on Price's monitor turned down lower, and there was a subtle, sweet scent beneath the must of paper, furniture polish and old wallpaper that usually hung in the air. 

The primal part of Simon recognised it for what it was, and the rest of him caught up as he got a good look at Price; his cheeks flushed, his blue eyes bright. Pre-heat. Price was getting more sensitive to everything; light, the cold. The smell in here had to be bloody awful to his sensitive nose. Simon blinked slowly, taking a deep breath through the fabric of the mask just to taste more of that glorious promise. If he could lick it out of the air, he would.

“We've got a problem,” Price murmured, slumping back in his chair, his fingers wounded together over his belly.

Simon didn't need to ask. He knew. “S’not a problem, sir. I can keep it under control.”

Price looked down, his face twisting in a brief grimace as he considered the edge of his desk. “S’not just you, Simon. It's me as well.”

Simon blinked, shifting his weight. “Wot?”

“Yer think I can't smell ya? When ya left the gym few hours ago I was meetin’ with Saunders about some performance data. Could smell ya from the otherside of the corridor.”

“Weren’t that fockin’ bad…”

“T’ normal man, no.”

There was an edge in Price's voice. Simon knew his secondary sex was a sore spot. If Price could have chosen, he would have been born an alpha. He despised everything about what he viewed as his ‘condition’. No one else knew, of course. The captain played his personal life close to his chest. Most of the time people assumed he was an alpha and didn’t look any closer. He was six foot two, built like a soldier should be; there was no reason to assume otherwise.

Perfect in every way, Simon's mind offered unhelpfully. Followed by an intrusive thought about how strong and intelligent their pups would be. Fuckin’ ‘ell.

“Was’the plan?”

Because there was always a plan and Simon would follow Price into hellfire if he asked. 

“Thought about sending you away, reassigning you,” Price said, his gaze flicking up to level Simon with a pensive look. “Bu’ I couldn't. Need ya. 141 needs ya.” 

Simon realised he could breathe again. The mere idea that Price would send him away - to fuckin’ where? No reasonable officer would take him on - left him frozen, every muscle seizing like he'd been turned to stone. Need ya.

Not just the 141. But Price. Price needed him.

“Then wot? Wot we doin’ ‘ere?” Simon’s voice crackled, the words cloying in his throat.

That grimace was back. A pinched look of regret pulled Price’s lips back, his eyes squinting. He scrubbed a hand over his beard and breathed in a deep breath through his nose. “Gonna ask ya sommin’. Ya can say no. S’your right t’ say no. Ya’understand?”

Simon’s fingers clenched into his palms, and he dipped his chin in a barely perceptible nod. 

“This… whatever it is. Could put ‘em danger, Johnny, Gaz, any soldier we have with us. It's foggin’ our minds, distractin’ us. I can't afford that in the field,” Price spoke slowly, like he was trying to reason with himself as well as Simon. “Way I see it is we need t’ nip it in the bud. Best way to do that is give it what it needs. A bond.”

An errant gust of wind could have knocked Simon to the floor at that moment. Like a giant rotten oak tree barely clinging on in the soil. His mouth went dry, huffing in another deep lungful of Price's scent as his heart accelerated in his chest. 

“I know ‘m askin’ a lot of ya. More an’ I ever have. But what we do, the greater good we fight for, s’too important t’--”

“Yeah.”

“Wot?”

“Yeah, I'll do it. I wan’ it. Wan’ you.” The confession tripped out of Simon's mouth before he could stop it. He stepped up to the desk, his hands planting on the surface, which, in hindsight, had probably been a poor choice. He watched Price tense in his chair briefly, before he slowly rose to his feet, weathered palms planting opposite Simon's to level him with a stern look.

“That's the hormones talkin’. Ya need t’ think it through.”

“Naw, I don’t,” Simon said, studying the freckles on Price's face, the sun damage on his forehead, the wrinkles around bright blue eyes, strong jaw framed by his uneven beard. A face he linked with safety and certainty and leadership. “S'you, s’always been you.”

Price dropped his eyes away, his head hanging for a moment, the sigh that followed sounded dog tired. When he looked up, those blue eyes had hardened, the light dulled.. “Simon, ya committin’ to a bond. S’for life. And ya not gettin’ a sweet thing that’ll fawn over ya. I'm not gonna give ya a pup, no family of yer own, ‘m not gonna kneel for ya, not gonna walk barefoot round yer kitchen, do ya laundry. ‘m not some pretty arm piece, Simon. Few years of lookin’, ya might find yerself a proper mate.”

“Don't care ‘bout any of that. Never have.” 

“Because ya never gave yerself a chance,” Price growled, rubbing at his face again. “Take a day. Think about it. Fer…” he swallowed, “...fer me, if not for yerself.”

Simon could smell something new. It was bitter on the back of his tongue. Distress. He lifted one of his hands without thinking, reaching for Price's face, but the captain flinched back. It was an involuntary response and Simon hated himself for causing it. “Sorry,” he grunted, fingers curling into his palm. 

“S’fine, jus’...” Price stood up straight, adjusting his t-shirt, thumbs hooking in his belt. Recovering himself, “...go, fink it over, don't give me an answer ‘til tomorrow after work.” 

“Right.” Simon stepped back from the desk even though every instinct was screaming at him to protect Price from whatever was causing that smell. There was no immediate threat so he couldn't even fight something; his entire skill set rendered useless in the face of whatever battle was going on inside Price's head. “See you for mornin’ briefing, sir.”

Price nodded. Simon left.

He didn't sleep that night. He stared up into the gloomy grey above his bed, wholly fixated on the parting image of Price, his face pinched, his scent riddled with distress and misery. He didn't want this, did he? Didn't want Simon like Simon wanted him. But what was new? Simon was perpetually unwanted. It was the story of his life. 

This was the right thing though. For the 141 and, Simon knew, for him. A mate like Price was more than he could have ever aspired to in normal circumstances. He had resigned himself to dying unbonded, to never experiencing what it felt like to be one with another person, to hear their voice and feel peace, to smell their scent and feel joy, to taste their skin, hold them, and feel whole. 

He had given himself to Price in all but bond anyway. This was a natural next step, even if Price himself seemed conflicted. It was an imperfect solution, riddled with grey, the cracks in the facade papered over, but that was them through and through.

The following day went by slower than a slug crawling across a salt flat. Price was nowhere to be found, sequestered away in his office while he tried to tidy up urgent matters before his three days of booked leave. Simon ran courses with the new batch of rookies up for selection and sparred with Johnny in the gym. The opportunity to exercise his physicality was welcome. His body was strong, capable, the best part of him. The part of him that would serve Price loyally. 

After dinner, Simon headed back to Price's office and tapped the door. The voice from the other side sounded even more exhausted than it had the night before. “Simon,” Price said, not looking up from the form in front of him. “Got yer answer then?”

“Yeah,” Simon said, “it's a yes. I accept. I… wan’ to bond with ya.”

Price placed his pen down slowly and leaned back in his chair. There was sweat on his temples and Simon could smell him even stronger than the day before. Fuckin’ delicious. “Right,” Price said. “Simon, you, uh… you need to know my heat, it's uhm… I find it difficult. Never shared it with anyone before.”

Simon could see Price's discomfort. How much he hated exposing this vulnerability. He sniffed, scratched his chin, and finally looked up at Simon's masked face. Simon blinked slowly. “S’ok. We’ll take it at your pace. You headin’ off tonight?”

Price glanced at the duffel bag on the chair by the window and nodded. “Yeah. You, uh… we can wait ‘til next time if you were savin’ yer leave for somethin’ special.”

“Naw, I'm good. You alright to put it through so I can go shove some pants in a bag?”

Price huffed. “Fuckin’ ‘ell, not only approvin’ your leave requests but now I'm fillin’ ‘em in for you lazy bastards.” He tapped at his keyboard and jutted his chin at the door. “G'won. Leavin’ base at nine. Don't be late.”

Simon left Price to do his paperwork and headed back to his quarters. He grabbed some underwear, some clean t-shirts and a pair of flannel shorts, his headphones and the Asimov paperwork he was chewing through at the average pace of a single page every three days. Omegas needed to sleep at some point, right? 

The final hour for departure sped by and soon Simon was heading out into the base car park to find Price's old Land Rover chugging away on the tarmac. Price sat in the driver's seat, wrapped in his coat and scarf, beanie pulled low over his ears, breathing into his hands.

“All good?” Price asked as Simon climbed into the passenger seat.

“Yeah. You… uh, you ok to drive?”

Price’s jaw twitched and Simon regretted opening his stupid fucking mouth. “Yeah. Fine. Stupor will set in later. Once I'm…” his voice dropped, “nesting.” He said it like it was an embarrassing admission, not a natural part of his instincts and cycle. Simon didn't probe any further and sat in silence as Price pushed the Landie into first and pulled away. The drive into town was quiet. Price turned on the radio once they'd pulled off base and they listened to the latest chart on BBC Hereford & Worcester. 

Price had a little one bedroom flat in Leominster that he commuted from most days. Sometimes he kipped over in the barracks after a long shift and it wasn't unusual to find him asleep in the rec room if a briefing had over run and he was too tired to drive back. The 141 knew it well as they had spent their ruts there since they'd joined the task force. It was cozy, clean, with traces of their captain as a man rather than a legend. 

When Simon stepped through the front door, the Land Rover tucked up for the night in the carport, he drew in a deep breath and felt his eyes flutter. He shed his coat and kicked his boots off and watched with no small amount of affection as Price grabbed them immediately to stack next to his, before slipping into a pair of well trodden slippers. “Brew?” Price asked as they headed into the open plan living room.

“Yeah, gaspin’,” Simon said, placing his duffel down by the arm of the couch before slumping into the middle of it. The material was a well worn brushed cotton, with two tartan fleece blankets thrown over the back. Simon pulled his mask over his head and ruffled a hand through his flattened hair, before burying his newly naked face into the scent of Price soaked into the soft material. He could picture him here in the evenings, wrapped up and snoozing, probably snoring his bloody head off like he did on op. But relaxed, at home, nested.

“Yer like a fuckin’ bloodhound,” Price grumbled as he walked over, a steaming mug of tea clutched in each hand. 

“I ain't drinkin’ outta that Liverpool mug.”

“Ahh, wind yer neck in, it's mine.” Price dumped the other mug on the coffee table in front of Simon, and then fell into the armchair. Still keeping a slight distance. This was different from when they met to weather Simon's rut. Simon was the vulnerable one in that and he trusted Price implicitly, but now their roles were reversed, and Price wasn’t used to not holding the leash. 

Simon slurped a mouthful of tea - perfect brew, strong, two sugars - and glanced at the telly when Price switched it on. The ten o’clock news, a slew of reports about how the world was going to shit and the rich were benefiting from it. Simon was only half paying attention, maybe not even half, because from the corner of his eye he was observing Price. 

He was slumped low in the chair, his lips parted, his eyes misty. The scent rolling off of him was saccharin, deeply appealing, and Simon's fingers twitched against the warm ceramic of his mug. Price managed to finish his before his eyes slid closed, his breathing growing a little ragged as his fingers kneaded at the arms of his chair. “Captain?” Simon prompted, his mug landing softly on a coaster. 

“Yeah, I'm good…”

“D’ya need anythin’?”

Price swallowed, observing Simon from beneath low lashes. A grimace passed over his face, his thighs pushing together. “Gonna shower… there's scran in the fridge, help yasel’.” His accent thickened briefly as his mind struggled to find purchase, and Simon watched him head into the bedroom with a faint smile. He listened to Price move around his bedroom through the wall, and then the rush of water as he turned the shower on. 

How long did he wait? Did he coax? It was usually easier than this. Price led the way, tugging Simon's clothes off, praising him in that rough, no-nonsense way he had; stable, certain. This Price was different. He was distant, anxious, even. Simon waited until the stream of water was disrupted, sloshing against the glass and tiles, before he rolled to his feet.

Maybe it was a shitty thing to do, but he knew he needed to do something. Price was clearly struggling. Limping through the last few hours before his heat settled in and dreading every moment of it. Simon pulled his clothes off, folding them over the laundry basket near the bedroom door, before he walked into the bathroom. He found Price panting in the steam, his hands against the wall as the water streamed down his freckled back, head bowed low between his shoulders.

He wasn't quiet as he slid the glass shower door to the side and slipped into the cubicle, his palm sliding over Price's ribs to glide up his chest. Price startled with a snarl, twisting around to latch a hand around Simon's throat as the other snatched his wrist. “Easy,” Simon whispered, airways restricted as Price squeezed. “Lemme help. Not gonna hurt ya, John.”

Price's shoulders heaved, blue eyes bright and feverish. Simon leaned into the palm at his throat and realised Price’s arm gave. He was shaking. Simon slid a palm up the tiles and eased Price back against his forearm as he pushed further, closer, until his lips slotted to Price’s and his tongue swept into his mouth. Simon used his greater height and bulk to his advantage, enveloping Price in his arms and drawing him into the warmth of his body, hand sliding down his back to his arse to bring their hips together.

Price was skittish, he wanted the kiss but kept drawing back before licking forward again, like he was clinging onto the cliff edge by his fingernails. His hands scrambled over Simon's chest, pushing him, gripping him, uncertain how to respond to the alpha swamping him. Price wasn't small, not by any standard, but Simon had a little extra, enough to cradle him, make him feel safe. Where Price was athletic and lean in his height and strength, Simon was bulky. Lots for a hungry omega to sink his teeth into.

“Simon…” Price grunted, tensing up as Simon's mouth kissed down his throat to the slope of his neck where his gland sat beneath his skin. His nails bit into Simon's shoulders, lips peeling back in a low growl. “Don't… not… not ready, can't…”

“S’ok, I know,” Simon murmured. “Relax. Need ya t’ trust me. Not gonna hurt ya.”

“‘m… don't judge me, for…”

“Not gonna. None o’ this will make me think anythin’ less of you, sir. S’a gift.”

Price flinched. “S’a curse. I… I fuckin’ hate it.”

“I know,” Simon murmured, opening his mouth to suckle on Price’s neck as he caressed up and down his body. Every pass of his palms over flushed skin seemed to be easing the tension, gentling him into his heat. His touch only paused to grab the soap and shampoo, washing Price tenderly, encouraged by the way he arched and writhed beneath the smooth glide of skin on skin. Simon worshipped every scar, every mole, every dip and curve of muscle. Those ragged pants broke around soft whimpers and soon the steam was saturated with the scent of an aroused omega’s heat. 

When his fingers slipped over the full curve of Price’s arse to the crease of his thigh, Price’s foot shifted out, inviting Simon's caress between his legs. Simon gladly provided, fingertips stroking gently over slick folds, pressing a little firmer with each pass until he was teasing Price's hole, tight muscles fluttering at Simon's finger in eager anticipation. “Fuck… you're wet…”

“‘m.. in the shower..” Price rasped, sounding dazed, and Simon smiled against his neck. Tentative hands began to explore Simon’s body, following familiar paths around his full tits and down his stomach to the thick, hot length of his erection pressing into Price’s hips. Simon shifted his own until his shaft could slide between Price's thighs. Spread as they were, it was just a tease, the ridge of his crown drawing back and forth over Price's slit, glans catching across the swell of his own small cock and making him stutter. 

Simon moaned into Price’s neck, the scent, the heat, the feeling of Price's strong body yielding to him inch by inch, it was a heady mix that was teasing him higher into feverish excitement. But he couldn't knot Price here. The first one took a while to go down and he didn't fancy keeping six foot plus of omega pinned to cold tiles while they waited for the tie to end. 

Simon drew Price out of the water and wrapped him in the warm towel from the radiator. The bedroom was warm, the bed even warmer as Simon lowered Price into it, tugging the towel into the floor, and nudging his thighs apart as he leaned down for a kiss. Simon ground his cock through Price's folds, smearing slick and precum over flushed hot skin. Price arched, opening his hips and hitching his legs high up Simon's sides. 

Simon gathered one of Price’s hands and wound their fingers together, pressing them into the mattress above Price's head as he reached down to guide his cock. He held it steady as he thrust his tip into the tight clutch of Price's body, teasing back and forth. It was sweet, sweet torture.

“Simon, hnn, ahh… please…”

“Tell me ya wan’ this.”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck… ahh, please…”

“Yer fuckin’ gorgeous, sir. Look at you.”

Simon kissed him, sucking his lips, his tongue, but drew back when he began to thrust in deeper. He wanted to watch Price’s face as he was taken for the first time. The way it relaxed in bewildered pleasure, blue eyes rolling; glistening, kiss-swollen lips parting as a low moan trembled from his chest. Simon bottomed out, his balls pressed to the underside of Price's arse, full and heavy in the heat. 

He had never wanted to knot and breed so much in his life. Not even in the chokehold of rut did the urge feel this strong. The scent of heat soaked his tongue, cloyed in his throat, and as Simon began to thrust deep into Price's body, the snug, warm grip of it sucking so eagerly on the thick girth of his prick, Price finally relaxed, his head tilting back as he panted and moaned. 

The sheets dampened beneath his arched back, Simon's hand slipping beneath him, encouraging the curve of his spine as Simon sat up on his knees, drawing Price up onto his lap to bounce him down onto his cock with his furred chest pressed up and open, letting Simon suck and kiss his full tits, his dusky nipples pebbled hard in arousal as tongue and teeth swept over them.

Price clenched a hand in Simon’s hair, the other dropping behind him to support his weight against the mattress so he had agency in the roll of his hips, meeting each of Simon’s thrusts over his sweet spot. Now that he didn't need both hands to support Price’s body, Simon snuck one between them, thumb rubbing the swell of Price’s leaking cock.  Price got loud, more than the stifled pants of their usual trysts. “Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck–”

Price's thighs pushed wide as his orgasm curled through him, sinking down until every inch of Simon’s thick cock was inside him. Simon ground in, growling low in his chest as he felt Price pulse and throb around his cock, slick dripping down his balls and thighs. Price was completely lost in pleasure, fockin’ beautiful, flushed and euphoric. He didn't fight when Simon shifted him onto his front and raised his hips, mounting him while on his feet, two big hands pressing down on his waist. Price dropped his chest to the bed and spread his knees wide, cocking his hips so that Simon could thrust deep. It was a natural breeding position and Simon's arousal intensified, cock rock hard as his omega presented. 

Watching Price's back muscles flex, his arse cheeks ripple under the force of Simon's thrusts, hearing his blissed out noises as they were punched from his chest, soon teased Simon's knot out of him. It swelled just as Price's second orgasm tightened his hole, and Simon ground forward, circling his hips until it popped inside clenching muscle. 

Price cried out, his orgasm intensifying as his body pulsed, instinctually milking Simon for every drop as he came. It was intense; mind-fuckingly good. Simon scrunched his eyes closed and saw lights behind his lids, and he listened as Price’s gravelly voice broke and whimpered through the swells of pleasure rolling through him.

When the aftershocks calmed, Simon eased them onto their sides, wrapping Price in his arms as his knot stayed snug inside his body. He pressed kisses into his damp hair, teased sensitive skin, and whispered praise. They dozed like that, surfacing to exchange lazy kisses before drifting off again. When Simon's knot went down, he drew out gently, only to replace his cock with his fingers. Price's hole was sloppy, loose and relaxed, and Simon groaned low in his throat. “Gonna breed you, love. Gonna make you mine.”

Price chuffed softly in response, thighs flopping open so that Simon could caress him properly, pushing his leaking seed back inside. Simon didn't need asking twice.

They mated throughout the night into the early morning. Simon left the bed long enough to get some food and water, and helped Price with both as the haze of heat made his movements sluggish. After a few hours of sleep, Simon woke him with another knot, holding him back to chest as he slid into him from behind. Each knot was a thorough breeding, their hormones, their scents, their bodies mixing until Price was ready to be bonded. 

Simon was hilt deep when he finally sank his teeth into Price's gland. His omega draped over him, back to chest, strong body arched in submission. Simon cupped beneath a thigh, thrusting into him with a semi-inflated knot that was making his eyes roll in overwhelming bliss. He tilted his head away under the guidance of Simon's hand at his chin, and Simon finally claimed the object of his desire, knot swelling inside him and triggering an intense wave of pleasure that made Price's body seize up.

The wound stopped bleeding as Simon licked it. He remembered vaguely reading something about alpha's having a clotting agent in their saliva sparked by the process of mating. Price’s pained huffs faded into softer sighs, and Simon held him as his body adjusted to the sudden surge of hormones in his bloodstream. Simon slid his palm over Price’s belly and cupped beneath its slight swell. 

“I know ‘m not your first choice,” Simon whispered in the quiet, his throat hoarse. “But…”

“Simon,” Price murmured, soft, wistful. “You're it. Jus’... always thought ya deserved better ‘an me.”

Simon's heart clenched in his chest, his nose burying in Price's hair. “Ain't nothin’ better ‘an you.”

“Got… bad taste in clothing and men, that bloody bally…”

“Olrigh’ boonie hat,” Simon chuckled, rocking his hips up a little in revenge. Price groaned, his body bearing down around Simon’s knot in a sudden throb of pleasure. “Heard bonded mating is a whole new level, but this… fuck, the noises you make.”

Price huffed softly. “Gettin’ a big head, Riley…”

“Naw, reckon I'm on the money, maybe I need t’ remind you again.” Simon slid a hand down Price's body to stroke his cock, rolling his hips slowly to grind his knot over Price's sweet spot, the stretch just the right side of too much. Price gasped, his back arching, and Simon clamped an arm around his chest to keep him still, giving him no choice but to endure the heated pleasure curling through his hips.

They had another day and a half to secure their bond before they had to return to work, and in that time, Simon would make sure Price never had a reason to dread his heat again. 

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fake dating buddie fics

all explicit rating - 18+ only!!!!!! make sure to kudos/comment on these amazing works :)

to build a home we deconstruct our rituals by: letmetellyouaboutmyfeels "after the shooting, eddie realizes he needs to put some things in place. like who will get his assets if he dies. who will speak for him if he ends up in a coma. what might happen if his family contests buck's guardianship. luckily, he's got a simple easy-peasy solution that won't result in insanity, catastrophe, or heartbreak: marry buck." word count: 44k important tags: fake marriage, slow burn, mutual pining, friends to lovers, fluff, angst, eventual smut meet me in the middle (underneath a little bit of mistletoe) by: princessfbi "buck and eddie agree to fake date each other to get through dinner with their parents during the holidays!" word count: 40k important tags: mutual pining, idiots in love, angst, fluff, protective!buddie, jealous!evan buckley, slow burn, smut what do i say (to make me exist?) by: cuddlyobrien "buck gets hurt at chim & maddie’s wedding, earning some temporary amnesia and thinks he was marrying eddie. the doctor advises they let him believe it. eddie is stressed from day one" word count: 27k important tags: temporary amnesia, mutual pining, season 6, anal sex, blow jobs, riding you became my world by: monstrous_moonshine "buck needs help; to get his inheritance money he has to be married. eddie offers to help, because that’s what best friends do, right? he can pretend he’s not woefully in love with buck, surely?" word count: 30k important tags: boys in love, kissing, oblivious!buddie, hurt!evan buckley, first time, hand jobs, anal sex, rimming, top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz breathe out now and we fall back in by: withoutthetiger "set during the summer after 5b, buck and eddie are complete idiots (affectionate) while they pretend to be in love and then realize they haven't been pretending at all. It's just a lot of fake dating, written for the prompt "you could never hurt me." word count: 32k important tags: friends to lovers, soft!buddie, first dates, sexual tension, light angst, mutual pining, anal sex, blow jobs, hand jobs raise her with me by: jayjay__884 "buck realizes that it takes a village to raise a child when a baby girl is left on his doorstep. left with a note that tells him she's his, buck tries to do the right thing and step up to the role that was given to him, finding himself responsible for taking care of an entire human being who is depending on him. and with eddie's help, who is on his own journey of healing and self-acceptance, they both learn about the readymade family they've always had as they end up co-parenting their children together and becoming something more." word count: 222k important tags: kid fic, relationship of convenience, friends to lovers, slow burn, mutual pining, co-parenting, eventual smut i can see it in your eyes (do you mean it?) by: smilingbuckley "eddie hears that his cousin is getting engaged. not wanting to get set up by multiple family members on awkward dates so he can bring someone to the wedding, he and buck plan to fake date. they put a lot of thought into it, getting comfortable with pda, going on fake dates, even practicing kissing once... and then it's finally time to travel to el paso. but faking it is hard when he's not really faking it at all." word count: 29k important tags: idiots in love, weddings, pre-relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, sharing a bed, eventual smut, top!evan buckley, bottom!eddie diaz a thousand words (and then some) by: tawaifeddiediaz when buck and eddie get roped into a photoshoot for the friend of a friend, neither of them expect what they'll have to do. or what it'll cost for their relationship. or, the photoshoot fic that got a little angsty, then a little sexy. word count: 25k important tags: pre-relationship, photoshoots, idiots in love, light angst, soft!buddie, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining, explicit sexual content

[metranart]

Acting like a bird in heat, Hawks ends up fulfilling his mating cycles with you… but now that his mind isn’t a pool of hormones… why does he keep looking for you?

Hawks x Student! Reader (Part 1)

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Warning tag: obsessed! Hawks, possessive! Hawks, naive! student reader, violation of trust, dubious consent, mating cycles, rut response, obsessive behavior, uncontrollable thirst for reader, manipulation, forced, thigh riding, hormonal minds out of control, sexual content, first time, cock riding, teenage fuck, Dabi's toxically interested in you, Bakugo bestie yet secretly inlove wit you, love confessions, cock-drunk, Hawks trying to be good but failing miserably, gaslighting, HEAVY plot, lots of smut.

-

The last time you saw him, your fingers dripped in his milky and creamy essence, his cheeks were bright red, and foggy as the feather adorning his back, and his voice held an elusive pant as if trying to catch his breath, along with his actions. Self-consciousness, the new mask for him to wear as he disentangled your hand from his now flaccid cock, almost caringly, half-lidded golden orbs shinning in its post-delirium bliss yet hiding a regretful truth. How the fuck did this happened? And why the hell did he allowed it? What was that new confusing feeling inside his chest?Takami Keigo knew what it was, but had never had such a close encounter with it in his whole life. 

Shame. 

No man, no citizen, no hero... –shall call himself trustworthy, after what he did. After the kind of thoughts that now circled his brain...agh! and he called himself the Number two hero. What a farse.

A steady hand passed through his golden locks, disheveled strands restricting the smooth motion, as he heavily sighed. 

I need a bath, thought mildly annoyed. Maybe that would serve him to clear his mind and untangle the treacherous feeling threatening to drive him insane, a cold shower would serve the purpose of cooling the deep mortification, he was experiencing. Fresh summer wind ruffled the papers scattered on top of his desk and at the same time, refreshed his blushing skin. The memory of his recent untactful sin, raving his brain like a horde of savages attacking a peaceful village. Damn his luck. Damn his choice of actions and must of all, damned the day, he saved you. Hawks could still remember so many details, little yet so endearing details about you. When arrived at the scene never thought for a minute, would become involved in such colorful acts.

Everything went peachy during the rescue; Endeavor handled the Villain with upmost care while incinerating his head right away from his body. Tactful, the winged hero recalled to think quite amused, it would have been a scarring scene, if not were for the villain being a Nomus. Yet, he couldn’t avoid but to think, there still were so many more options to reach the same end. His job in this particular scene was easy, to say the least. Save the hostage. A sweet, scared and highly ordinary young girl who found herself trapped in the crossed fire. UA uniform hugging your figure, as the Nomus paraded itself around you like a bee setting his sting to hurt. There was little time to act, and the moment the flames exploded from the Number one hero, Hawks saw his window open to save the deceptive young girl. Flying through hell fire landed with a soft thud in front of you, displaying his wings to envelop you in a cocoon of feathers, the red flames licking his crimson wings while shielding you from harm.

His gloved hands went straight to your waist in a studied motion, at the same time his gaze fixed in yours asking for permission to touch you, you almost threw yourself at him like a trembling leaf who seek shelter from the chaotic winds. The winged hero was quick enough to pull you into his welcome arms and fly up, taking you both from the ground just in time. The scorching heat caressed his flying form before both were out of reach. The crowd around the sinister cheered the incineration of the villain, and a swift smirk kidnapped the blonde’s lips in a sassy gest.

He knew he have it in him, Endeavor just needed a few notches in the right direction. All those musings were curtly interrupted as his eyes focused on the civilian resting in his arms, your round eyes caught him off guard, nevertheless, was quick to smile and reassure your questioning stare. You seemed in shock, probable still were. These nasty things never left a sweet taste behind. Flying you to the safety of the ground, landed near the scene, but far away to gift you with some privacy to compose. Hawks gently unwrapped you from his chest and placed a comforting hand over your hunched shoulders, reassuring smile always present in his welcome expression. "It´s ok, you are safe now." His palm gently squeezed your shoulder, thumb doing comforting circle motions over the fabric of the uniform. "Breath, in and out, you'll see how you feel better in matter of seconds–" You managed to quirk the edge of your lip up, and your frame stopped shaking, the tremors slowly disappearing the more oxygen you gulped. "Atta girl" The hero cheered, lowly. "In and out, you’re almost a pro." His good-hearted joke reaped the fruits as a melodic giggle escaped out of you, and your tense frame seemed to relax. "T-thank you, Hawks" you timidly stammered, eyes glued to your fidgeting fingers interlacing each other, nervously.

Looking up from your hands met his gleeful stare, and your cheeks gained a dust of pink. Your lips opened and closed as if wanted to say something but didn’t dare to. Hawks pretended no to notice, to save you the embarrassment. 

He was used to have this effect over the female population, every woman in town was one smirk away from his warm bed, but the young hero had grown tired of those kinds of relationships. When you can have all, you can eat, eventually the buffet seemed less attractive, almost boring.

He liked sex, holly shit, he fucking did! as much as the next guy would. But he needed a challenge –   actually wasn’t sure what he needed, but something inside him was unsatisfied and restless, continuingly poking at the back of his mind.

“Don’t mention it, cutie.” The hero said simply and looking around, realized that your home shouldn't be far away.

“If you want, I can take you to your house" he suggested, in a carefree and friendly tone, "flying everything is closer." Cheerfully, added.

Taking a moment to think, nibble your lower lip a bit but you ended up accepting. His amber glasses shone under the rays of the sun and without preamble, he offered you his arms which you nervously climb for him to leave the safety of the ground and surf the sky, again.

"Are you comfortable?” Keigo asked, feeling your body a little tense among his arms, being carried bride style across the sky would definitely woo any girl, nevertheless, you seem more uncomfortable than anything else. 

“M´Ok.” you said, curtly, and hawks, merely nodded. “By the way, are we heading in the right direction?"

A blush swept across your cheeks at the realization of what he just stated, and timidly squeezing his arm to feel more secure, you glanced down and before you could tell him exactly where your house was, you noticed something coating your fingers.

“You are hurt!” You half-yelled worried, looking at your blood covered hand, and then, at his wounds. You had not noticed it because he had not said anything, nor had he complained, but his arm was burned and one of his wings was semi-scorched. To which the young hero, just shrugged his shoulders, not giving it much importance.

"Comes with the territory." He openly joked, but your eyebrows continued to frown. "It's not serious, a few of Endevour´s flames got me... nothing that won't heal in a few days." He encouraged you, but you weren't able to shake the feeling of guilt.

You had been training hard to become a hero, and just when it was time to prove yourself, you froze.

It was so, so embarrassing that Todoroki's father had to save you, that you refused to go back to the dormitory you shared with your class A classmates. Surely, they would be worried, not to mention, you had already ghosted, a few text messages from Professor Aizawa asking if you were okay. But you just kept feeling like you let everyone down. That was why you preferred to go home and cry your eyes out in the solitude of your bedroom, or among your mom’s arms. 

Now, you felt even worse, since Hawks, the number two hero, was injured because of you. Maybe he didn't show it since he was too professional, but that wound was serious and would take more than a few days to heal, not to mention it could get infected.

Ugh! you had to help him, was the least you could do… It was what a true hero would do.

Setting your mind, you decided to use your quirk on him, despite Recovery Girl several warnings. Without a doubt, you could heal him... now the only setback was, not losing control while doing it.

An idea suddenly lights your brain, and catching a glimpse of a well-known hidden alleyway, near your house, you signaled to him that you had arrived.

Hawks landed softly, and let you down, looking around the place. "I'll take you to the door, which one is yours?" The young hero, offered.

“...Is the one on the other side of the alley.” You indicated, signaling a house, close by.

“Oh, fine.” Keigo said, not really understanding why you choose to walk instead of fly straight to your house, but he let it pass. “Lead the way, then.”

Both entered the alley which was being embraced by thin shadows and before you reached the other side, you turned around and looking at Hawks with embarrassment, you fidgeted with your fingers for a moment. Surprise morphed Keigo´s features comically when out of all the requests in the world, you suddenly asked. 

“May-may I give you a kiss?” You asked, timidly and noticing his bemused expression, corrected. “...As a way of thanking you.... for saving me....”

Your timid request took him by surprise momentarily, but soon his features regain his cool, and was quick to nod to then leant down. A kiss on the cheek, Keigo thought it to be innocent enough, not a usual request, nevertheless, a simple one. If this put you to rest, he'll humor you. Keigo was cocking his head for you to place your sweet lips.... it's now or never, you breathed deeply.... if you were going to use your quirk, now was the moment.

Two slender hands perched in each side of the Hero´s face and in a firm, straight movement, you cocked his face in your direction, surprise registered in his face, and his golden orbs popped open at the feeling of your lips locking with his.    

COMING SOON PART 2....

⭕️ In my PATREON you will find NSFW art of this chapter and more spicy MHA NSFW art and exclusive smut fanfiction.... Plus 'Spicy Foreplay tier reward' like: voting poll privilege for the exclusively Patreon one-shot stories where you can choose the couple pairing and kinky mood for the story and NSFW art, along with some naughty animation like THIS ONE ....and my eternal and vast gratitude for your support!!!

[mrskokushibo]

Warnings: Sex, Smut, NSFW, MDNI, 18+, Funny

Summary: It gets both steamy and funny when you manage to rile up Sanemi. And the man really has a short fuse. Modern AU.

A/N: For all you MHA fans, you are welcome to replace Sanemi with aged-up Bakugo. I can almost hear his voice in Sanemi's lines.

Masterlist

The afternoon was going well until you made the fatal decision to go to the arcade. It was ages since you both last been and the silly in you wanted to try if it was as much fun as you remembered it to be. At first, Sanemi was enjoying himself but very soon things went south. You were winning, time after time, beginner luck at first, but when your winning streak continued, he was no longer able to contain his frustration.

‘This shit is rigged. How the fuck can you be winning all the time?’

You laughed impulsively.

‘Seriously Nemi, how can it be rigged? Do you think I am in cahoots with the owner?’

Your grin became vicious and you lowered your voice into a conspiratorial whisper while leaning closer to him.

‘Maybe I slept with him to get ahead?’ You followed this with a wink.

He was not amused. He glared at you pursing his lips and continued the game.

‘Fuck. How do you do it?’ He almost growled out after losing yet again.

You shrugged and gave him an innocent but triumphant smile, and even did a little victory dance. And…you shouldn’t have.

‘Enough! We are going. This was not a good idea and I am not coming back here again.’

You giggled and put your hand into his as you began walking out of the noisy arcade.

The cool evening air and your mild hand softened his mood and by the time you came back home, he was seemingly fine. But, once on the sofa, his eyes flared up in vicious intent.

‘Let’s play Battlefield. I bet you can’t beat me there.’

It was his favourite online shooter that you only played a handful of times. You did not take to it and, to be honest, you weren't interested in gaming that much anyway.

‘Yeah, whatever. But don’t you just want to watch a movie and cuddle?’ You asked with a flirtatious smile.

‘We can do that later.’ He was already pulling out the controllers and logging in to the online portal.

He passed you the controller and a few moments later you were moving through a village in the middle of a desert, first-person view of your surroundings, trying to avoid or shoot the enemy. For each time Sanemi got shot and revived, you stayed alive and kicking. When you quickly glanced at him, his jaw was tensed and his eyes had that half-insane focused look in them.

‘Nemi, you are taking this far too seriously.’

‘This is serious.’ He barked out, which caused you to burst out laughing.

He paused the game and looked at you. A long, drawn-out, crazy stare. “If looks could kill” was probably the best description of what was being projected from his light-purple pupils.

‘Relax, babe.’ You put your hand on his thigh and began riding up to his groin. ‘Let me help you.’

You cooed and started rubbing him through his jeans, the bulge slowly growing from your treatment. He was alternating staring at you and down at your hand.

‘Do you really think I am some primitive gorilla that can be pacified with sex?’ He was seething with increasing irritation.

‘No, of course not, I don’t think that. Why would I?’ You cocked your head and smiled, biting your lip while continuing to rub his now quite prominent hardness.

‘Fuck you.’

‘Yes, fuck me, Nemi… ‘

This was followed by a moment of silence after which he suddenly growled quietly and flipped you over on your stomach.

‘Alright, I will fuck you. But don’t say you didn’t ask for it. Because I don’t intend on holding back.’

You bit your lip in anticipation. You liked it when he was rough, but it would probably piss him off even more to know that right now you wanted him to be exactly that, heavy-handed. So instead, you just lay still, tiny, pinching, shivers running down your spine as his hands touched your ass and began pulling up your skirt. 

His hand disappeared momentarily, and the sound of his zipper being pulled down sent even more electricity up your spine. He grunted as you could hear him get up and pull down his trousers. And then he was back at you, slapping your ass repeatedly, you moaning in response.

‘Now, bitch, I will show you who is boss here.’ He rubbed you to excessive wetness and began pressing his cock into you, without much consideration for positioning himself properly. He was too eager to be tough.

‘Nemi, that’s my other hole. You need to reposition.’

‘Argh! You don’t need to tell me what to do. I know what I am doing.’

He shifted and slammed into you, missing your opening entirely and burrowing himself into the sofa. He was so consumed with the combination of rage and arousal that he managed to give the sofa a few hard thrusts.

‘Babe, you are not inside.’

‘Stop talking. I know I am not.’

‘Should I assist you? In finding the hole? It’s like pinball, you know..’ You giggled. You could not help yourself to make the arcade allusion, because his reactions were simply too entertaining.

‘Do you think I’m funny, huh? Let’s see if you think this is funny then.’

This time around, he pumped his fingers into your pussy, positioned himself correctly, and slammed into you causing you to gasp.

 ‘How do you like this?’

‘I like it.’

His bare teeth were now grazing up your back and finished up on the side of your neck, the proximity of his warm, strong body causing you to clench a little extra. His breath was near your mouth and he hissed in a raspy voice:

‘Brace yourself, fuckdoll.’ You loved it when he called you that.

He kept his proximity to you and started to hammer his hips into the softness of your ass. You were a little shaken as his pace increased. Your breath started to sync with his thrusts, but he kept it up so fast you were left gasping for air. He pushed deeper and harder until you were whimpering from his force.

He then pushed the whole length of his cock into you, and you could feel the head pushing at your cervix. The pain and pleasure sent shivers throughout your body. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably now, and you could feel your pussy start to gush. He continued his thrusting as if you weren't even there. Your knees were about to buckle, but he pulled you up again by the waist, his fingers digging into your flesh, and started his relentless thrusting once again.

You could barely breathe, and you were starting to see stars, the only sounds you could hear were your own heartbeat, his ragged breathing, and the sound of his cock driving into your soaked pussy. You started to lose consciousness, your vision narrowing to a point.

‘Nemi, I’m coming.’ You whimpered out as the familiar feeling of needing to pee was turning into a full-blown climax accompanied by your pussy gushing like a fountain.

As you slipped into a blissful abyss, his cock finally erupted and released the thick, white cum that had been building up. It coated your womb and dripped out onto the sofa. His breathing started to slow down, and he released his grip on your waist. Your legs gave out, and you slumped forward, resting your head on the soft cushions.

He grabbed his sweatshirt off the floor and cleaned himself and your leaking pussy. He then pulled you upright and wrapped his arms around your waist, leaning his head on your shoulder. You placed a hand on his head and caressed his hair.

‘Are you calm again now, my dear?’ You whispered into his ear.

‘I was never agitated. What are you implying? That I lost control?’ Irritation was beginning to simmer up in him again. You let out a giggle. You could feel him tense up behind you, and his hands went for your throat. You tried to get away, but his grip tightened.

'What's so funny, hmm?'

You struggled to get out a few words. 'Nemi...please.' You begged.

'Please what, slut?' He replied, his grip getting tighter.

Your head was going fuzzy again, but his grip was not tight enough to make you black out. He was not a monster, after all, and besides, you did enjoy it, your juices running down your leg from his grip on your delicate flesh. You felt his cock growing stiff again. He really was insatiable. He let go of your throat and turned you around. He sat down on the sofa and pulled you into his lap.

'Now, we need to get a few things straight, doll. If I am going to continue to put with you, then you are going to need to understand that I am the one in control here, do you understand?' This was his usual way of asserting himself, that never really worked on you other than make your pussy drip.

‘Just like you were in control of the game controllers just a moment ago?’ You giggled while grabbing his cock and lowering your full weight onto him.

He could no longer keep up the tough façade, the cracks showing by a playful spark appearing in his eyes. He laughed through closed lips and shrugged.

‘Yeah…just like that. Well, I guess we both know that you are the boss here, my kitten.’ He groaned as you began riding him. And this was the beginning of a long, adrenaline-fueled night filled with sensual and passionate sex. Lesson learned? Annoying Sanemi was well worth it.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

Hope I can make you laugh with this oldie but goodie. Imagine Bakugo instead of Nemi 😅 @doumadono @crystalwolfblog

[peeweekey]

super graphic ultra-modern girl like me!

pairing: haley x reader

wc: 2k

tags: mature (NOT explicit) , closeted lesbian haley , both of you are drunk , making out

synopsis: where sharing lipstick with your best friend haley makes you feel… things.

a/n: reader: oh ho ho, i sure hope kissing my bff doesnt awaken anything in me! (it did)

i wrote this listening to super graphic ultra modern girl by chappel roan! haley fits so many of her songs its insane

your head is aching, spinning like you were sent to another dimension that consists of disco flashing lights and the nauseating smell of spilt vodka—all thanks to the sheer amount of alcohol you consumed in the past 5 hours. it’s pushing 3 AM—the strappy 4 inch heels are chafing your feet, the skimpy skirt clinging to your hips ride up in a way that would scandalize the small village mothers, and body glitter covering every inch of your skin. 

you feel light, weightless as you flutter and float through the rhythmic bass engulfing the club. you nod your head to the beat of the music, swaying your hips that loosen with every sip of the sweet alcoholic drink in your hand. 

you’re bouncing up and down to party rock anthem when your phone buzzes. fishing it out of your pocket, you squint your eyes to make out the notification. you bow your head, trying to make out the message over the flashing lights.

an amused laugh bubbles out of you. haley.

—> go 2 thr bathroon rn

—> hurry or else

you turn and wobble out of the middle of the dance floor, swaying to the beat while maneuvering the sea of sweaty bodies. the bathroom is in an isolated corner by the entrance of the club. you push the door open, stumbling slightly when it takes a little less effort than you expect.

you enter the club bathroom, shutting the ornate door behind you. it slams with a resounding slam, dampening the loud candy pop songs blaring through the party outside. 

your heels click against cool marble as you saunter to the long, seemingly endless, stretch of mirrors and faucets. twisting the knob, a rush of tap water flows freely; it contrasts satisfyingly with the heated skin of your hands. you wet your fingers, dabbing your cheeks and neck with cool water. you sigh, shivering with the instant relief it brings.

as you cool yourself off, you think—you do wonder what haley’s predicament is, she texted you with much urgency. 

perhaps she fell into the toilet—or maybe she’s drunk herself to the point of spewing her guts out in one of these very cubicles. the latter though makes you giggle. a notification buzzes from your phone, as if the sound of your laughter summoned it.

—> idiot

—> i can hear u laughing from here

you snort.

suddenly, without warning, you feel a warm hand pull you into a stall. it’s a sudden jerking motion, and you almost lose your balance to fall flat on your face. a gasp rips out of you as you clutch on to the very warm, very soft thing that keeps you from falling and twisting your ankle. before you even register the situation, you’re being dragged in to sit on the closed lid of the toilet. 

you’re frazzled, knocked off balance by a rude and very disrespectful stranger who obviously has no morals. you feel your blood boil, ruthless insults ready at the tip of your tongue—

—then you look up, and that feeling dissipates. instead, a cheshire grin splits your face, “haley.”

she’s the living breathing stereotype of a wild party girl like this; blonde hair in waves down her back that smells sweetly of strawberries, nails buffed and painted a pretty baby blue, and make-up done up to the absolute nines. her sequin skirt sparkles and winks as she shifts. pretty, you’ll ask if you could borrow it next time—

manicured fingers snap and you’re pushed out of your own thoughts. haley crosses her arms, standing in between your thighs, looking down at you with a displeased expression. “took you long enough.”

you offer a sheepish smile. “i was busy.”

“yeah,” she sneers, locking the stall door behind her. “busy shaking your ass to trashy zuzu club songs.” 

you ignore the sharp jab with a roll of your eyes. “what’s up?” you ask, your words slur slightly, almost tapering off into incomprehensible gibberish. “didya you puke or something?”

“ew. no,”the loud is just making my head hurt,” she replies, massaging her temples. “stick your legs together, i’m gonna sit on your lap.”

she knocks your thighs together with her knee. haley maneuvers you to her liking, your bare thighs pressing together when she spins and sits perpendicular to your lap.

“hm.” you feel the weight of her settle on top of your thighs. the warmth of her skin meeting yours under the cut of her skirt. you barely repress a shiver at the heat radiating off her skin. “woah! okay now you really have to tell me what’s going on.”

you're met with a faceful of strawberry-scented blonde hair when she shifts away—ignoring you. good news for her, your drink-addled brain doesn’t seem to care. in fact, your drunk brain figures it is a perfect time to shamelessly flirt. your tongue is loose enough, and your brain has completely thrown away its filter. as friends, of course; building camaraderie as people say.

“you smell nice, did you use that strawberry shampoo i gave?” you murmur, brushing the locks away from your face. you feel haley squirm in your lap. you know she used it, the pride bubbles up in you at the thought. 

it’s overly warm, that plus the buttloads of alcohol brewing in your gut makes your skin feel on fire. 

haley growls. “stop talking, dumbass.”

you roll your eyes, pinching her thigh. she yelps, high and breathy, swatting your hand away. she meets your eyes, her blonde brows furrowed.

“geez…” a lazy smile playing on your lips. “just take the compliment, hales.”

a ghost of a smirk appears on her cherry colored lips. glossy and pink. you wonder if they taste as sweet and tart as real cherries do—

you wince internally. thinking like that is not a good idea. damn your alcohol foggy brain, making you think of the inane idea of lusting after your best friend. 

you knock your forehead into her shoulder. “so are we just going to sit here all day?”

“i just need to touch up my lipstick,” she says. facing you with an expectant look. “then we can go back.”

“and that’s why you called me,” you raise a brow. your gaze trails to the cherry coat on her lips—it looks perfectly fine to you. in fact, she looks absolutely darling like this. 

“you need some?”

“…are you offering?”

“why not? we share all my shit anyway,” you shrug. “i think it’s somewhere in my purse—”

“where’s your purse?”

“i left it with the others, i think it’s with abby, i'll text her.” you say. fumbling for your phone, you reach in the hidden pocket of your skirt. the walls enclosing the cubicle restrict your movements; you bump your elbow against the flimsy wood as you dig deeper into the flimsy pocket. your skirt is skin-tight against your hips, you feel the woman above becoming increasingly agitated as your attempts to fish out your phone come out fruitless.

haley huffs above you, shifting; making your wary gaze snap back to her. she looks down at you with a pout—you’re damn sure she’s just as hammered as you.

“too far,” she whines, taking a firm grip of your jaw. your cheeks puff with the force of her squishing them, you feel the pointed tips of her nails digging into the fat there. she swings a leg over you, her hips bracketing your waist as she sits atop you. 

this position feels strangely intimate; like all your senses are overwhelmed with only haley. the heady scent of her skin, the short sounds of her breathing in your ears, the burning feeling wherever she touches—it’s all her, her, her.

which shouldn’t make you feel the way it’s making you feel; like you're buzzing with adrenaline. you feel the blood coursing through your veins at race car speeds—spreading all throughout your body. your cheeks feel hot, you feel dizzy with all your senses stimulated by your best friend.

the reverberating bass from the music outside shakes the walls; like some sort of finality as it thumps, thumps, thumps.

“hales,” you start, your mouth dry. “what—”

she stares at you, her crystalline eyes shining in the dim light of the bathroom. a pretty pink flush paints her cheeks til the tips of her pearl-adorned ears. you feel her breaths against your cheek—short and warm. “stay still, the gloss you have on your lips will do.”

your ears have to be fucking with you… your eyes widen and you swear you feel your heart jump up into your throat. “huh—”

“what?” she says in response to your wide-eyed expression. her tone drops to something akin to a purr. “your lipstick is such a pretty shade.”

helping is what friends are for, right? maybe this is merely the alcohol talking; because she doesn’t like you like that, totally—and the disappointment you feel is not because of that either. 

you swallow the heavy lump in your throat; your voice is strangled and stuttery when you speak. “f—fine.”

“perfect,” she grins. “hold still.”

this is the least you were expecting when you walked into the club bathroom; who knew you’d end up with haley in your lap and hovering over for what is technically a kiss. you will your eyes not to close, burning the view of her leaning over you into your brain. you shudder; this is not a sight that will leave you for months to come.

you squeeze her hip as her face hovers closer, palm lingering at her scratchy sequin miniskirt. you crane your neck, anticipating the brush of her lips against yours. your other hand travels to her upper back, stroking her locks of golden hair; under your ministrations, you feel her tremor slightly.

it feels like eternity when you finally connect. 

sparks fly the moment you feel the plush softness of her mouth against yours, moving in a salacious rhythm that you doubt is for only sharing lipstick. 

her lips are sticky with what remains of that cherry lip gloss; it smears all over your own lips, spreading your deep red lipstick everywhere; at the corner of your lips, at your chin. your eyes flutter shut, a contented sigh escapes your mouth and haley uses that as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. she drags her hand up and up, curling her fingers into the base of your neck.

you jolt, the pleasure fogs your mind; your thoughts are muddy, the only coherent thing is of haley. 

your tongue swipes at her bottom lip, chasing the fruity flavor of cherry cola on her lips. it’s sweet, she’s sweet. you feel lightheaded with the overwhelming sensations of it. sure, you’ve kissed once or twice—but it never felt like this; soft and desperate and hot and tingly, affecting you all throughout your body. 

your breaths are labored when she pulls away and you feel it's too soon. a clicking wet sound when her mouth disconnects from yours that makes you shiver. you feel dizzy with warmth; heat is pooling low in your belly, a low buzzing sensation overwhelms everywhere haley touches. 

her lips as wine-red as yours. the same color lipstick smeared messily on her lips. haley wipes the corner of your cupid’s bow, where some of the color had smudged, her breathing heavy and pupils dilated as you stare. her hands feel delightfully warm and soft against your skin. golden strands of hair brush against your cheeks, making you squirm in your seat.

you can barely restrain your delighted giggle, in awe of the absurdity of the situation. haley laughs too, a light sound like a tinkling bell. you slump against the cold tile wall behind you, boneless and in disbelief— did you really just make out with your best friend? and at a grimy club bathroom no less.

time seems suspended here, cramped in a stall with only the sound of heavy breathing. there will be a lot more questions when you leave, lingering glances at your pleasure-pulled hair and smeared lipstick. 

this is what friends do, what you and haley do. your eyes track her every move, unabashedly staring as she readjusts her top. haley catches your eye, smiling like the cat that got all the cream. 

she cranes her face to your ear, whispering. “thanks for the touch up, babe.”

[randxmthxughts]

All For You - Neteyam x Ta'unui ! reader (enemies to lovers) - pt. 2

*Ta'unui is the Eastern Sea water clan that was attacked by Quaritch

part 1

summary: When Quaritch attacks the Ta’unui water clan looking for Jake Sully, the clan’s Tsahik forces her younger sister, Y/N, to escape and seek refuge from the Metkayina clan. As Y/N deals with the trauma of losing her home, she discovers that she isn’t the only outlander in the village. She develops conflicted feelings for Neteyam but the tensions grow when Y/N finds out that Neteyam is the son of Jake Sully - the man she hates. 

genres/tropes: angst, romance, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, slowburn

other pairings: Loak x Tsireya, Kiri x Ao’nung, platonic relationships (Y/N x Kiri x Tsireya, Y/N x Jake, Y/N x Neytiri)

warnings: war, mentions of blood, PTSD, trauma, survivor guilt, character near-death experience, slightly aged up neteyam, dialogues are supposed to be in na'vi, not english, lots of side eyes, braids swaying, and neteyam appearing out of nowhere like the batman lol

word count: 30,2k (ik this is insane)

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The next morning you try to occupy yourself with whatever tasks to avoid running into Neteyam. You think that both of you need some time before returning back to your usual selves. What if he starts hating you? 

Tsireya silently works along you, as you’re gathering berries. She doesn’t ask you anything about last night but you’re convinced that she suspects something happened.

“Y/N,” you hear someone call out your name.

Neytiri waves you over. You notice her wearing a different belt with two small knives hanging from each side, and a bow in her hands. Oh shit.

“Are you going to fly with Neytiri?” Tsireya asks, curiously. You nod.

“Come,” Neytiri shouts again.

When you join Neytiri, you feel nervous. And it’s not because of her anymore, but because Neteyam promised to join you too, and you’re scared you might run into him any minute now. But as you walk with her to your marui to retrieve your weapons, and head into the trees, there is no sign of Neteyam. 

“This is my ikran,” Neytiri pats the greenish-yellow creature on its head with a smile.

The sound the ikran makes terrifies you, but she only laughs at your reaction. You've heard stories about the forest clans riding ikrans, but you've never seen one up close, let alone flown on one. You also knew of the special bond that exists between the forest Na’vi and their ikrans; they could only choose one for the rest of their lives, and in return, the ikran had to choose and remain loyal to them. This bond was unbreakable, for life.

“You will fly with me,” Neytiri explains, as she checks the armor on her companion. You watch her attentively. “We will hunt later, so you can try shooting in the air.”

You nod your head, taking a step closer. The ikran lets out another sound but Neytiri quickly calms it down, encouraging you to keep closing the distance. A few moments of patience pay off when the ikran lets you pat its head. Overwhelmed, you let out a breathy laugh.

“Now, let’s go,” Neytiri jumps on the back of the ikran, helping you up.

“Is Neteyam going to join us?”

“He is with his father,” Neytiri says, as she pushes the straps of the armor into your hands, “Grab on these. Neteyam will come if they finish early.”

You take a deep breath, as you feel the ikran jerk under you. A big wave of air hits you in the face, and you grab harder onto the handles not to fall. When you gaze down at the view below, you feel your heart race. You never even dreamt of flying but this seems like something you were waiting for your whole life. 

As you fly higher and higher, you notice how confident Neytiri is in her movements. She controls the ikran with ease, guiding it smoothly around curves of the cliffs, between trees and small nooks. You grip the armor of the ikran tightly, fear and adrenaline rushing through your blood.

Neytiri takes a dip, and as you feel exhilarated by the sensation of the wind running through your hair, you let out a laugh. She looks back at you with a toothy grin.

“Tie your feet,” she shouts, slowing down the ikran.

You obey, tying the straps around your feet to the armor.

“Done,” you shout back.

Neytiri makes a slow turn. She circles around a small lake, hidden between the green of the island. Just above the water, you can see a small flock of tetrapterons, graciously soaring.

“Take out your arrow and bow,” Neytiri orders, “We will take them by surprise. Some birds will fly away but some will fly right at us. That is your best chance.” 

“I’m ready,” you reply with a newly gained confidence.

You ready your bow, adjusting in your seat, and praying to Eywa that you won’t fall off. As Neytiri’s ikran circles closer, you feel alert at the sheer number of them. Neytiri navigates the ikran around the flock, and immediately, loud screeches strike your ears, as the birds disperse. 

Focused, you take one look to find your prey. You take an aim, and feel a rush of adrenaline, as you release the arrow and watch it hit its target. You shriek in excitement, marking your victory.

“Well done!”

“This is great!” you shout, raising your hands over your head, and feeling the wind.

After some more flying, you get to see Neytiri in action. She’s graceful and fast, her arrows shooting through the target every single time perfectly, while she’s still flying her ikran. You hunt for a bit more, diving to collect your prey before returning back. You jump off to the ground, adrenaline rushing through your veins, as you watch Neytiri feed the ikran with one of the birds you caught.

“Oh, that was incredible!” you grin ear to ear, earning a smile from Neytiri.

“You are a skilled hunter, Y/N,” she compliments you,  “And you have never flown before.”

“I can’t even imagine how exciting it is when you have a connection with the ikran,” you come closer, petting the creature that has already grown used to you.

“It is. It’s a connection for life,” Neytiri confirms, “You feel everything they feel. The freedom, the wind.”

You watch her with admiration, recalling the way she hunts. You don’t think you have ever even come close to being as graceful as she is. Not even in the water.

The two of you sit on the grass, the ikran stretching not too far away from you, closing its eyes. Neytiri lets you catch your breath before giving you the task of removing the arrows from the birds you caught.

“You turned down Neteyam last night,” she suddenly says, and you feel your heart picking up on a faster rhythm, “Did he do something stupid?”

“Not at all,” you shake your head, avoiding her eyes.

“Then why? Have you chosen somebody else?” while her voice remains soft, you feel pressured.

“That is not the reason,” you sigh, “I… I like Neteyam. I think he is kind.”

“And you?” she nudges you with a small smile.

“And I am not worth him,” you shrug your shoulders, hoping that your answer would satisfy her.

“Nonsense,” Neytiri shakes her head, “Tell me the truth.”

You fall silent, biting down on your lip. You didn’t even have the guts to explain it properly to Neteyam, let alone to his mother. Hell, you didn’t know what to say to yourself. She doesn’t know that the thoughts of Neteyam have been driving you crazy. You feel guilty and frustrated because you can’t go back home but you also feel like you don’t deserve to live a new happy life here. You won’t be able to make him happy. 

“Y/N,” Neytiri says, putting her hand on your shoulder, “Whatever is holding you back can be fought. The Great Mother guided you through the water, she helped you survive for a reason. Nothing should stop you now.”

“I don’t want to hurt him,” you whisper, “Now is not the time.”

“I used to think that when I met Jake. But it’s never going to be the right time.”

You look back at her, searching for more answers. You recall the stories Neteyam told you about his parents the night you spent together. When you first heard them, you thought they were brave to choose each other. Maybe even a little selfish.

“Mom,” your ears perk up at Neteyam’s shout, as he jumps off his ikran.

Neytiri waves her son over, and as Neteyam walks up to you, you notice blood on his forehead.

“Y/N,” he greets you with a forced smile. You awkwardly greet him back.

“What happened to you?” Neytiri stands up to examine his forehead, then circles him, looking at his back, and arms.

You jump to your feet too, following her expressions, in case she finds something.

“I’m alright, you should see dad,” Neteyam chuckles, then winces, as Neytiri slaps his arm.

“What did you two do? I told you not to be careless!” she gets angry. 

“Nothing,” Neteyam pulls away, “We were flying around the cliffs of another island but there was a thick fog. Dad couldn’t see anything, so he hit a cliff. I was just behind him…I didn’t hit anything but when he fell, he took me down with him.”

“Stupid!” she scolds him, “Where is he?”

“At Tsahik’s,” Neteyam winces again, shaking off his arm. He must have hurt it, you think.

“Come,” Neytiri orders.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Jake looks exhausted and in pain, his forehead creased with a frown. Neytiri sits next to him, peppering him with questions while Ronal tends to his wounds. You and Neteyam sit back, the awkward silence between you palpable. He avoids your gaze, and you can’t really blame him for that.

“No, that wasn’t fog," Jake���s voice catches your attention.

"What then, Ma'Jake?" Neytiri leans forward, her expression curious. 

"It was smoke," Jake replies, his breath ragged. "I could smell it. And it was too thick. I couldn't see a thing."

You cover your mouth in shock, as a realization hits you. If the smoke was caused by the sky people, it means the trouble is closer. Ronal throws a quick glance at Neteyam, before shoving one of the balms she just used into your hands. When you look at her, confused, she points to Neteyam’s forehead, covered in blood.

You curse Tsireya for abandoning you to assist Tsahik. She never leaves her mother alone, she is the tsakarem! You know that it was exactly her intention to leave you with Neteyam.

“No need, I can do it myself,” Neteyam raises his palms to stop you, but Ronal only tsks at him.

He can’t even see his wounds, let alone treat them, you think. With your breath shaky, you walk to Neteyam, taking in the damages on his arms and forehead. You hope that by the time you get to it, Ronal will take over, so you don’t have to stare at his face. Neteyam looks at you from underneath his lashes.

“Sorry, I wasn’t there today,” he mumbles, “I know I promised but…”

“You don’t have to apologize,” you say quietly, “It was fun.”

“I told you,” Neteyam gives you a small smile.

Knowing him, he can’t stay mad at you forever. He knows it’s wrong to be petty. Still, it hurts. 

You gently shove him to turn around to examine the multiple cuts on his back. He’s not bleeding but they look nasty. You take a breath before applying some of the balm onto his wounds, and you see his muscles clench.

“Shit,” you hear Neteyam wince.

You remember the same balm used on you when you first arrived, and the burning pain that followed. Hesitantly, you lean closer to blow cold air on his wounds. Neteyam's back muscles slowly relax under the feeling. It is not enough to stop the pain, but it's still a small relief. You blow a few more times before the burning dies down.

“Turn around,” you order quietly, and he complies.

You feel blood rushing to your cheeks, as you take one of his arms, to tend to the wounds you saw earlier. Neteyam watches you carefully, wincing as you start applying the balm. Instinctively, he tries to jerk his arm away but you hold him in place.

“Mawey,” you whisper. He clenches his jaw but stops moving.

After you finish applying the balm to his other arm, you realize that the adults have slipped away. You heard Ronal being rushed to treat an injured Na’vi, but not Neytiri and Jake leaving.

“Almost done. Now, the nasty one,” you breathe out, pointing to Neteyam’s forehead. 

He closes his eyes, preparing for the pain, but instead of the balm, you take a damp cloth to his forehead. He flinches in surprise underneath the soft touch and opens his eyes.

“It’s a big cut,” you explain, “I need to clean it first.”

“Y/N,” Neteyam’s voice is low, “About last night.”

You gulp down, nervously, not meeting his eyes, instead focusing all of your concentration on cleaning his wound. But he’s so close, you can feel his breath on your skin.

“You didn’t have to explain anything to me. I-I,” he takes a shaky breath, "A mature Na'vi must face rejection because you can't force your heart to feel something it doesn't. And if you don't feel the same for me as I do for you, then I must accept that without question."

He is too noble for his own good, you think. You stop, and lower your hand to look at his face. 

“Neteyam, you got it wrong,” you let out a deep sigh, “I didn’t reject you because I don’t have feelings for you. I turned you down because I’m scared that it could ruin us and jeopardize you as the future of your family.”

Neteyam frowns, trying to process your words. This whole time he had been so certain that you simply didn't reciprocate his feelings, that he had almost grown used to that idea.

“Why are you scared?” Neteyam takes your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze, “You know I will do whatever it takes to protect you.”

“‘Teyam,” you whisper, too overwhelmed to meet his gaze.

He releases your hand and cups your cheek tenderly, bringing your foreheads together. Though you're standing, towering slightly over him, it doesn't distract from the moment.

“Please, just for a moment, let me be honest with you,” Neteyam says, nuzzling your face, “Will you?”

“I will,” you agree. All he has to do is ask, you’ll always agree.

“I see you, Y/N,” Neteyam whispers.

You feel your breath catch in your throat. You knew he was going to say it but it still felt unexpected. Neteyam's fingers caress your cheeks with love, waiting for your response. With anything. As long as he gets a response. You lean in and touch his lips with yours, and both your hearts start racing.

There is a small pause before Neteyam kisses you back softly and slowly.  You close your eyes and give in to him, as he pulls you closer and closer, until there's no more space left between you.

Overwhelmed, you eventually pull away, catching your breath. A toothy grin appears on Neteyam's face, making your heart ache with love. You wish you could always make him smile like this.

“Now is not the time, Neteyam,” you try to discipline him but instead his smile grows even bigger. Is he mocking you? 

Your cheeks flush with heat as you try to calm down your racing heart, but Neteyam only seems to find your reaction funny. He reaches his arm to touch yours.

“I feel the happiest,” he says.

“It’s not the time,” you repeat again, trying to sound stern this time, “You’re bleeding.”

You notice red running from his wound, and sigh, as you take the cloth, and start cleaning it. Neteyam follows your movement with a smile resting on his lips but he lets you work.

You can’t really believe that you kissed Neteyam. You tried resisting before getting sucked into the fantasy of being his, but the thoughts of returning home continue to nag at you. 

He doesn’t know that it’s been days since you thought about it. Going home. The nightmare you had about your sister has left you feeling like Eywa was trying to send you a message. So you desperately wanted to check for yourself. What if she’s been alive this whole time waiting for you to come home? What if she’s with Eywa now, and you've neglected to send your prayers, instead living a new life? Just the thought of it makes you feel sick. You know that you can't wait any longer.

Neteyam lets out a soft gasp, bringing you back to reality. You blow on the balm you've just applied to his forehead to ease his pain.

“Thank you,” he places his palm on your waist. 

“You’re welcome.”

“Now nothing will hold me back from being yours,” he says, taking your hand and placing it over his heart.

“Neteyam -”

“I know, I know,” he interrupts you, “You think this is not the right time, but what matters to me is that you reciprocated.”

“Of course I did,” you decide to tease him, switching the topic, “I couldn’t break your heart, when you had blood all over you.”

“Is that so?” he quirks his eyebrow, eyes twinkling,“If I had known that it takes me getting hurt to be treated so nicely, I would have got hurt a long time ago.”

“That’s not funny,” you slap his chest, earning him a laugh.

For a second, you’re reminded of the plan you had. You hang your head low before speaking.

“I can’t promise you anything right now, ‘Teyam. Not until I am sure.”

“Sure about what?” he looks at you confused.

“There’s just something that...I need to be certain of before I give in to this,” you say, gesturing between you. You feel terrible for getting his hopes high. Why did you have to kiss him?

“I’ll wait,” he says. You look up at him in surprise, “However long it takes.” 

You had everything planned out. It was so simple before he had to come in and mess up your head. You would sneak away in the dark, hoping to get to the Eastern shore by the morning. With a healthy young ilu, the journey would take less time now, and you were confident that your instincts would lead you by the same route you took when you escaped before. You had to see your home.

Neteyam is a distraction. He would come in, trying to save you, hold you back. He will fight you, and push your buttons, telling you that it is a bad idea. Make it harder for you to leave.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The following week seems to drag on even slower than before, with no news of new attacks. While it seemed like something good, in reality, you were scared that the sky demons were planning a bigger strike. Lo’ak has a theory that they were tracking you down with their fancy weapons, instead of wasting resources on other villages. Neteyam discredits his brother to make the rest of you feel better, but, judging by his eyes, you think he believes it too.

During these days, it’s hard for you to keep your distance with Neteyam, especially when you’re  not alone. Despite his promise to wait for you, there is this new spark in him that makes him act carelessly. He can’t hide it around the others, staring at you and touching you at every opportunity he gets. Overwhelmed, in return, you overcompensate by ignoring him. You can’t let anyone find out. Because once it’s out in the open, you’ll feel pressured to become mates. And you were not ready.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“What the hell, Neteyam? I almost had it!” you shout at him in anger.

“It was going to swim away if I hadn’t shot,” he responds with a self-assured tone, like he is talking to a child.

It was early in the morning, when you decided to head out for some hunting near the caves at the back of the island. And just as you were about to feel the sweet satisfaction of catching a srakat that you’ve been preying on, an arrow whizzed past you and struck the fish.

Neteyam found your expression amusing, not knowing the effort and patience you had put into finding those damned srakat caves, nor did he understand how much it annoyed you when someone interrupted your hunt.

“You should have minded your own business!” you hiss at him.

Neteyam rubs his eyes, and you can’t believe his audacity. He ruined your hunt and now he’s the one rubbing his eyes like he’s about to get a headache?

“Did I ask you to help me?” you ask him, feeling your blood boil.

"Do you ever ask?" Neteyam huffs in annoyance. You have a feeling this is something deeper.

“Oh forgive me, Neteyam, my savior,” you mock him, “What was it you called yourself? The mighty warrior? Well, can a mighty warrior return to being his mighty self and leave the real hunters to actually hunt?”

“When it comes to swimming, I get it!” he throws his hands in the air, exasperated “I always listen to you because you grew up in the water. I know you know better, so I listen to you -”

“Exactly!” you interrupt him, feeling a surge of irritation.

“Let me finish,” Neteyam rolls his eyes. “But when it comes to hunting, why can’t you trust someone who has been holding a bow and arrow in his hands before he started walking?”

“Do you think you’re the only one that hunts?” you ask him, confused. “Catch up, forest boy. We know how to use bows and arrows, but spears are easier when hunting down bigger prey. Especially srakat.”

“A good hunter works with precision and a small window of time, your method was doomed from the beginning,” he argues.

“It’s not about precision, it’s about patience and force! You can’t possibly shoot a srakat from a distance. If it spots you, you’re never going to see it again. You were just lucky that we were so close to it, otherwise your arrow wouldn’t even poke its armor.”

“Yet, who’s the one holding the trophy?” he raises his eyebrow at you, expectantly. 

“Now you’re just pissing me off on purpose,” you hiss at him.

His ears flutter in response. Neteyam attempts to cover them with his hands but it is too late. Is this what you think it is? Did seeing you this angry suddenly bring him pleasure?

“You, skxawng. Are you seriously this excited seeing me angry?” you can’t believe him.

“No,” he denies, “On the contrary, I’m frustrated with your stupidity!”

“You’re the stupid one!” you poke his chest with your finger.

It takes you by surprise when he wraps his fingers around your wrist. You’re standing too close to each other, your breaths catching. Neither of you looks away, trying to read each other's thoughts.  It's been a while since he's been this close to you since your kiss in the marui, and you’re suddenly reminded why. Your gaze falls to his lips, sending him a sign. Neteyam kisses you, and this time you can’t pull yourself away.

Your bodies embrace, holding each other tight, and as you kiss, it feels like the two of you are fighting over who gets to taste more. You pull him closer by the nape of his neck, and a soft moan escapes his lips. He kneels, and you follow suit, the kiss unbroken. 

Kissing him is overwhelming, greedy. You sit on him, wrapping your legs around his waist. Neteyam places your hand on his chest, and you can feel his heart beating rapidly. He reaches for your queue, and you don't resist.

“Y/N,” he gasps, pulling back, “Stop.”

“What is it?” you ask offended.

“Eywa,” he says. You notice he's holding your queue between his fingers. He lets it slip away.

“She hasn’t blessed us,” you voice his concern out loud, “Not as mates anyway.”

“What do you mean?” Neteyam’s ears perk up in surprise, “Did she give you a sign about me?”

“Kind of.”

“Tell me,” he is eager, it amuses you.

“No, I think it might go to your head,” you tease him, with a playful smile.

“Y/N,” his voice is so serious, you crack.

“Alright,” you roll your eyes, letting your fingers wander over his broad shoulders, “The other day, when we were at the Spirit Tree, and it was windy, a seed floated around me, and then around you.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Neteyam looks at you offended. You find it amusing.

“Because you were really getting on my nerves back then,” you admit, “And honestly, you’re still kind of annoying me now.”

“I’m the annoying one?” Neteyam’s face lightens up with a sleazy smile.

Before you know it, he pins you to the ground, hanging above you. He seems to like this position a little too much. His fingers tickle your stomach and neck, forcing giggles and squeals from you, as you try to escape. 

“Neteyam, stop!” 

“Say you’re sorry!” he demands, pausing for a moment to give you a chance to save yourself.

"I'm not going to lie," you reply, your voice catching in your throat as he continues to tickle you, "FIne! I'm sorry! I give up!"

“Sorry for what?”

“Not telling you sooner!”

“And who am I?” he quirks his eyebrow.

“Neteyam,” you whimper, but he shakes his head, “‘Teyam!”

“Hm,” he pretends to think about it, “Not bad but you have to try harder if you want to get out of here still alive.”

You feel out of breath, smiling like a fool. You know exactly what he wants to hear.

“The mighty warrior,” you let out. His face immediately lightens up.

“Smart girl,” Neteyam leans in, nuzzling his forehead against yours.

“You called me stupid two seconds ago,” you huff but he shuts you up with a gentle kiss.

Words can’t describe how giddy you feel. It's unbelievable. You’re kissing him! Neteyam. Just a few weeks ago, you despised him with every fiber of your being. Your grandmother used to say that hate is a form of love, and you're starting to believe that now. Because at this moment, it feels like there's no one in the world except him. With his lips on yours, and his hand gently cupping your cheek while you play with his braids, you feel all the negative thoughts being pushed out of your mind.

“Oh, sweet Eywa,” you pull away from him, suddenly realizing.

“What?”

“Is that why you’re annoying me? Because I was ignoring you,” you accuse him.

“What, no way,” he denies, yet it’s so easy to spot his lies.

“You’re lying, you skxawng!” you wrap your arms around his neck, “Look at that sleazy grin on your face. And your ears! They were fluttering when I was yelling at you!”

Neteyam cracks under your gaze, and starts laughing. You take a second to admire this sound. It’s so genuine, so warm. Oh Eywa, you wish to hear that laughter every day. You gaze into his golden eyes with so much love, you feel like your heart is going to burst.

“What are you thinking about?” Neteyam asks softly, noticing how quiet you got. 

“I see you, Neteyam.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Like on the schedule, the storm doesn’t take long to arrive. Tears blur your vision as you witness a Tulkun floating on the surface with its eyes closed. There are blurs of bright orange at her sides that confirm she’s been killed by the sky demons. Devastation fills the air, with Ronal trying to revive her soul sister, praying to Eywa. But everyone knows it's too late. When she finally gives up, a painful shriek breaks the silence. You sob quietly, as you feel Neteyam’s hands wrap around you in comfort. You can’t imagine what it feels like to lose a soul sister.

When Tonowari calls for a meeting, there is a mixture of anger and sorrow in the air. The Metkayina hunters wear their armors, holding weapons in their hands, ready to fight. Tonowari orders everyone to prepare to avenge the death of Tulkun. 

Jake jumps into the circle, pleading with him to stop. He thinks that it is a trap set by the sky demons to lure them out, that they’re planning something worse. When the others try to silence his father, Neteyam intervenes, asking them to listen. His desperation weighs heavy on your heart. Jake raises a piece of metal retrieved from the Tulkun's side, causing everyone to fall silent.

“You tell the Tulkun, if they are hit by one of these, they are marked for death,” he says.

Tonowari seems to listen. He orders the clan to pass the message to their soul-brothers and soul-sisters, and tell them to leave before it’s too late.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“I’m sorry, ‘Teyam, but you gotta move out of the way,” you sigh, tired of arguing with him.

“I’m not letting you go there, it is too dangerous,” his accent becomes more evident with the anger building up inside, “Let’s wait. I will talk to dad, we will think of something safer.”

“I don’t need you to talk to your dad!” you grow frustrated with him, “I don’t need you involving anybody else. I have thought about this. I know what to do.”

“It’s risky, Y/N, you know it is.”

“I do. But they’ve sent us a clear sign,” you point at the water, reminding him of the dead Tulkun, “They know exactly where to shoot now. Exactly where to hurt. And I can’t keep going on like this… I need to know what happened before I lose my sanity, sitting here and waiting for death,” you’re so tired, you’re ready to break down right here. Just to feel him wrap his arms around you and comfort you.

“Y/N,” Neteyam’s gaze softens at the tremble in your voice, “I can’t lose you.”

“This is why I didn’t want you to -” you stop yourself before you say something hurtful. It’s really not his fault that you gave in to this fantasy of being his, “Please. Move.”

It’s only a second of hesitation on his side but it’s just enough to give you an opening. You charge past him into the water, your ilu already waiting. The cool water rushes over you, as you swim ahead, determined to get as far from him as you can. You hear his voice call out to you.

“I’m not letting you go there alone!”

The death of Tulkun has only added to your fears of the sky demons targeting the Metkayina. Your nightmares have become more frequent. It’s the same one, every night,  and you just can't wait anymore for another sign from Eywa. You need to figure out for yourself what happened to your home, and to your sister.

When Neteyam caught you sneaking at night, it wasn’t hard to guess that you were trying to leave the perimeters of the village. Of course, he is worried about your safety. You'll be alone in the open water, with the sky demons lurking nearby, looking for their next prey. What if they spot you before you can hide? What if they catch you? He’s not going to lose you right after he spilled his heart out to you. It’s not fair.

It’s still dark out, as you swim ahead, following your instincts. You can sense that Neteyam is close behind but you don’t acknowledge him. You're determined to see this through.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As the sun rises, you and Neteyam arrive at the village. You can feel your heart sink at the sight of what remains of it. It’s hardly recognizable: everything you knew and loved has disappeared into smoldering ruins.

You unlink from your ilu, taking a few steps further. Even the sand underneath your feet seems to be dark gray from the fire. Your eyes roam over the burnt structures of the old maruis and the pieces of clothes and weapons scattered on the ground, showing how little regard the sky demons had for your Na'vi.

You feel the weight of guilt and anger welling up inside and crushing down on you, as you continue walking. You stop when you step closer to the remains of a marui where your sister and her mate used to stay. It was easy to tell apart from the others: as the leaders of the clan, they used to have a big home. You were always jealous of all the space they had, which from the very beginning was destined for the children they were going to have. Streams of tears rush down your face, and you can’t help the sobs threatening to close up your throat. 

Neteyam, who was right behind you all this time, gently rests his hand on your shoulder. You turn around, desperately burying your face in his chest. He holds you tightly, with his hands on your back, running them up and down in a comforting motion. He feels his own heart breaking at the sound of your crying.

It takes you a long time before you can pull away from his arms, ready to face the reality again. Neteyam asks if you want to go back but you can only shake your head. Not until you know the fate of the Tree of Souls. It was the sacred place where your clan used to go to pray, hidden away in an underwater cave, on the far edge of the island. The Tree was still small, still growing, but it was the only source of light in the darkness. You pray that its secrecy has kept it safe from destruction. 

You pull Neteyam by the hand, leading him towards the cave. The once bright and lively colors of the plants now seem dull. As you dive in, a faint light catches your eyes. The Tree of Souls. Quickly, you swim to it, desperate to feel its warmth and connection to Eywa. But the light the Tree radiates is too weak, barely breaking the darkness around it. You cover your mouth with your hands, in shock. Behind you, Neteyam squeezes your shoulder, as you bring out your queue to the Tree, ready to cling to it. You close your eyes, focusing on your bond, and ask the Great Mother for guidance.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When your eyes flutter open, you find yourself back on the familiar beach. Your village looks just as it did in the past, with all of the maruis standing in place, untouched.

“Y/N?” you hear your sister’s voice, as she appears in front of you with a warm smile. This can’t be real. 

You shake your head in denial, as tears fill up your eyes. With the signs you received from Eywa, deep down you had hoped that she wouldn’t be here. That somehow she had survived and just ran away to live somewhere else. That she hadn’t died for you.

But there she was. Gracing you with the warmest smile and wrapping you in the tightest hug. Wearing the headpiece that you helped her decorate, when she was first pronounced the Tsahik of Ta'unui. It was the happiest day.

“Why are you crying?” she asks, pulling away to look at you.

“I missed you,” you sniff.

“I missed you too,” she cups your face lovingly.

Although your nightmare threatens to repeat itself, you allow her to guide you towards the water without objection. It’s crystal clear and the sky is cloudless. You’re not scared that she may let go of your hand anymore. Together you swim, holding hands, and admiring the depths of the sea. As you both dive deeper, you come across a cluster of yellow plants that glow, breathing in and out.

“I want to lay here someday,” she gestures, and the realization hits you. This is how the water takes, claims the dead.

Heavy-hearted, you get back to the beach with her, stretching out on the sand. You wish you could stay with her. Just the two of you. 

“Are you happy?” she asks you, “It seems like you’re letting the bad thoughts consume you.”

“You know me too well, sister,” you smile, “I don’t know how to start again after losing everything.”

“You just have to accept that you can never bring the past back,” she responds thoughtfully, “What scares you?”

“I’ve met someone… And I’m scared to promise myself to him. I don’t think I can make him happy.”

“Well, why?” she urges you to open up. You can only shake your head, feeling the weight of guilt crushing you. “Is he kind?” she prompts.

“He is, he has the kindest heart.”

“Is he patient?”

“Too much for his own good,” you chuckle.

“Does he love you?”

“He does,” you wince. 

“I don’t see what scares you, Y/N,” she smiles proudly, “You deserve happiness. Leave the past behind you.”

“But what about you?” you frown, feeling like she is slipping away from you.

“I will be the happiest when you are too, tsmuke.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When you swim back up, you spot Neteyam sitting on the flat rocks, inside the cave. You catch his attention right away.

“Are you alright?” he leans in, helping you out of the water, “You were in there for a long time.”

“I am… the nightmare was a sign from Eywa,” you breathe out, taking a seat by him, “I think there was a burial ceremony the night when I first saw it. The Ta'unui who lived gave their final prayers to the fallen before leaving here.”

“Is she with Eywa now?” he asks carefully, and you nod, “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

“It’s alright,” you sigh with a small smile, “I’m just happy I saw her.”

Neteyam embraces you tightly. You’re not sure if it’s meant to comfort you or himself but you’re pleased, feeling him so close to you. You tug at his queue lightly, signaling him to pull away.

“What is it?” he asks.

“I want to ask Eywa for a blessing,” you smile at him, nuzzling his face, “I want to be promised to you forever.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As you make your way back home, you and Neteyam exchange giddy laughs, when he occasionally circles around your ilu, playfully teasing you. This newfound feeling of Neteyam being yours makes you overwhelmed with your love for him. Though you both agreed to wait, you were blessed by the Great Mother and that was all that mattered.

Suddenly, Neteyam stops and puts his fingers to his ear, listening in. Annoyance flickers across his face before he touches his necklace.

“Get away from there, as fast as you can Lo’ak,” he growls, “We’ll be there soon. I don’t care, tell father right now.”

You watch with concern, as Neteyam takes off at lightning speed. You barely manage to keep up with him, urging your ilu to swim faster. 

“It’s Lo’ak,” Neteyam shouts, unwilling to slow down, “He went to warn Payakan about the Tulkun’s death, but Payakan has been marked.”

“Is he okay?” you ask worried.

“He’s trying to get it out. But the skxwang brought everyone with him. Kiri, Tsireya, Ao’nung, and even Tuk followed them,” Neteyam shakes his head in frustration.

You swim faster and faster, when finally, you can spot Payakan, with the silhouettes of your friends, standing on its back. Neteyam takes off and helps them right away but you fall back, when another movement catches your eyes. A large ship is approaching and quickly coming into view.

“”Teyam,” you shout, swimming to them, “They’re here!”

Everyone's heads turn in the direction you point. As the ship gets closer, it seems to grow in size, and your voice catches in your throat. Neteyam quickly takes charge, rushing everyone back to their ilus.

“We’re swimming back now, sir,” he presses on his necklace, “Roger that.”

“Is that your dad? What is he saying?” you ask him.

“They’re getting ready to attack. But we have to leave now.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Y/N, help!” you hear Lo’ak’s voice, as you catch a sight of him on the ilu, with Neteyam laid over his knees. 

It seems like just a moment ago, you were helping free Tuk and Tsireya, urging them to retreat to the shore with you, as the Metkayina battled the sky demons. Despite your pleas, Lo'ak picked up a weapon and charged into the explosions. Neteyam shook his head before picking up a weapon himself.

“Neteyam, please,” you pulled him by his hand, “Don’t go there.”

“Don’t worry, just get Tuk to safety,” Neteyam squeezed your hand in his, “I’ll be right behind you, you won’t even notice.”

“But Neteyam -” he shutted you with a kiss, before pulling away with a smile.

“Go, now,” he rushed at you, disappearing into the battle.

You shouldn’t have let him go. Panic and fear overwhelm you, as you try to help Lo’ak and his human friend get Neteyam to the land. Your heart drops when you see red running out of his chest.

"Y/N, he’s been shot!” Lo'ak's voice breaks through your thoughts.

Immediately, you kneel down, Tsireya joining you to examine him. Neteyam barely keeps his eyes open, as you take in a deep wound on his chest, blood gushing out of it. You can’t see the bullet.

“‘Teyam! You’re fine,” you touch his face.

“What do we do?” Lo’ak asks panicked.

“I’m going to get my mom,” Tsireya stands up but Lo’ak pulls her back by her hand.

“Ronal is out there fighting.”

“You’re the tsakarem, you must help him,” you almost hiss at Tsireya. 

Neteyam lets out a weak cough, clearly hurting. You press your fingers onto his wound, trying to apply more pressure. You can feel the warmth of the blood seeping through your fingers, and press down harder, almost trying to force it back. You can’t lose him now. Not right after you found him.

“Hey, hey, stay with me,” you beg him, tears filling up your eyes, “Tsireya, help me.”

Tsireya complies right away, helping you apply pressure down on Neteyam’s chest.

“Go to Tsahik’s room and find the blue balm she keeps by the wall. And bring back as many bandages as you can,” she tells Lo’ak, then turns to you with a whisper, “I don’t want to scare Tuk, but we must get the bullet out.” 

You take a quick look at Tuk, wrapped up in her own arms, crying. You have forgotten she was here with you, watching her big brother suffer in pain. Your heart aches for her. 

“Ma‘Teyam, are you with me?” 

“Y/N,” Neteyam breathes out, a weak smile on his face. His hand cups your cheek, and you immediately cover his with yours, smearing the blood all over you, “I want to go home.”

“You’re not going anywhere without me anymore, you hear that?” you force yourself to smile through your tears.

From the corner of your eye, you notice Lo’ak and his friend returning back, and Tsireya rushes to him to take the supplies. They flee, as she takes a seat by you again, then brings out her knife. She starts speaking to you, as if she wants you to do something but you can’t really hear her. And your mind takes you to a bad place. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Y/N,” Tsireya’s voice sounds far away, “I need you to help”

Everything unraveling around you seems to pass in a blur. One moment, you see little Tuk by Neteyam’s unconscious body, with her small hands pressing over his chest. Your eyes take in a knife, covered in blood, with its sharp tip poking through the blood with quick careful motions. Then, Tsireya throws the knife away, as her fingers dig into the wound. Your eyes widen as she pulls out a bullet, covered in thick blood.

“I got it, Y/N,” Tsireya’s voice snaps you back into reality, “But I think he’s doing worse.” 

You only nod and lean in to check Neteyam's breathing, but there's no sign of life. Frantically, you search for his pulse, but again, nothing. When you press your ear to his chest, straining to hear any sound, your heart races. It's like searching for a glimmer of light in the dark depths of the ocean, but at last, you hear the faintest heartbeat.

This weak, fragile beat is all that matters to you. Like a drug, it floods your veins with a surge of adrenaline, tuning out every bad thought and emotion. You quickly spring into action, now overtaking Tuk’s responsibility, as you tear a piece of your cloth to start cleaning his wound. 

“Y/N, his lungs are giving out,” Tsireya voices her concern, as she thoroughly applies a thick scoop of the blue balm to the wound. “If he doesn’t start breathing on his own soon, this is pointless.”

“I know… I know what to do,” you mumble, thinking back on the chest compressions Neteyam performed on Kiri when she was struggling to breathe, “But we need to wrap this very tightly.”

Doubts flood your mind as you begin the compressions, questioning whether you are counting correctly or making the injury worse. Tsireya checks his pulse but shakes her head every time, and you feel a sense of disappointment overwhelming you. You refuse to give up. He just needs a push.

“Neteyam!” you shout, pressing on his chest in an already familiar rhythm, “Don’t leave me!”

Tears stream down your face as you press your mouth to his, willing him to take in more air. Suddenly, you feel a slight movement underneath you, and when you pull away, Neteyam coughs weakly and takes a small breath through his mouth. 

As you notice his chest slowly rising and falling, you let out a cry of happiness, thanking the Great Mother for helping you. You repeat your prayers over and over again, as if in a trance, while holding his hand. Eventually the chaos around you dies down, and everything turns dark.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

It takes you a few seconds to adjust your eyes to the bright light. As memories of the previous night appear to you, you jolt up looking for Neteyam, and realize that you had fallen asleep by his side.  

His eyes are closed, face peaceful, bandage tightly wrapping his chest. Your heart picks up a beat, as you carefully lean in to check his breathing. When you feel a weak breeze on your skin, you pull away with relief. Your eyes roam around the big marui, finding the rest of his family scattered around, asleep. Even Tsireya’s here, her head resting on Lo’ak’s shoulder. When your gaze meets Neytiri's, you notice the dark circles under her eyes indicating sleeplessness or tears, or both.

Quietly, she walks over to you and kneels down beside her son, cradling his cheek lovingly. You see her eyes glisten, as she then leans in to wrap you in her motherly embrace. A small sob escapes your lips, feeling consumed by her warmth.

“Shh, my child,” she whispers, gently wiping away your tears, “Neteyam is strong. Eywa has heard you.”

Your heart fills with gratitude for her words. Despite seeing her son like this, she finds enough strength for the both of you. Together you stay by Neteyam’s side, watching his chest rise and fall with each weak breath.

Eventually, the rest of the family wakes up, one by one checking on Neteyam. 

“He will be awake soon,” Ronal confirms her prior reading, earning a grateful look from Jake.

You catch a proud smile settle on her face, as she watches Tsireya carefully switching the old bandages, consumed in her work. You feel infinitely thankful to have Tsireya by your side.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The dynamics between the Sully family changed overnight. You notice how Jake and Neytiri suddenly seem even warmer, holding each other and their kids lovingly, afraid to lose them. Despite guilt eating away at Lo’ak, he feels accepted once embraced by his father. Kiri and Neytiri seem to understand each other without exchanging a word. While you find Tuk clinging herself to you and Tsireya, her newfound admiration for you evident in the way she sought your attention. 

When Neytiri and Jake send the kids off to eat and bring something for them too, you protest to stay at the marui with them. The thought of leaving Neteyam’s side even for a moment makes you shudder.

Instead, as advised by Ronal, you start praying to Eywa again. 

“Y/N, Eywa has heard you already,” Jake says, putting his hand on your shoulder in comfort, “Take a break, kid.”

“But what if she hasn’t? Ronal said he would be awake soon but he isn’t waking up,” your voice is desperate, “I am scared.”

“This is his battle to fight,” Neytiri adds, her voice low, “He is the first son of Toruk Makto, born to lead clans, to protect. Neteyam was destined to be strong, you have to trust him.”

“He’ll be alright,” Jake pats your back, offering comfort. 

You nod, quietly agreeing. There really wasn’t a reason for you to behave like this, with his parents in the room. And they are right. Neteyam always does his best, you just have to be patient. 

“Were you with Neteyam yesterday?” Neytiri suddenly asks, curiously observing your face.

“What?” you’re caught off guard. Is she implying the morning of?

“Yesterday, Neteyam disappeared. And when Lo’ak was with Payakan, he told us that you and Neteyam were coming from the East,” she slowly elaborates, as she pieces the bits together. 

“Why were you coming from the East?” Jakes fixes his eyes on you, waiting for an explanation.

You avoid looking at any of them, hesitant to respond. You knew for sure that if Neteyam hadn't been lying with a wound in his chest right now, Jake would be already scolding him for venturing outside the village perimeters at night. You swallow the lump in your throat, feeling pressured to tell them. Yikes.

“We went back to my village,” you blurt out, “I didn’t want anyone to know where I was going, but Neteyam caught me sneaking out. He couldn’t convince me to stay, so he just came with me to make sure I was safe.”

The two of them listen to you quietly but you can already see disappointment covering Jake’s face. Neytiri’s expression is unreadable, and you wonder if they’re angry at you for putting their son in danger.

“Look, I know it was risky and stupid but I had to see what remained of my home,” your voice breaks, as you continue to justify yourself, “And the two of us were very cautious. Seriously, we were completely fine -”

“It’s alright, kid,” Jake interrupts you, his gaze softening, “Did you find what you were looking for?”

You nod affirmatively, noticing a small spreading across Neytiri's face. She regards you with approval, as if what you told them has impressed her. It's the same look she gave you when you went hunting together.

“You’re not going to get mad at Neteyam, right?” you ask Jake, knowing how upset Neteyam gets when scolded by his father.

“I couldn’t think of anyone braver and kinder than Neteyam to go with you,” Jake smiles, and you feel relieved. 

“Something is different about you. Your spirit,” Neytiri points out.

“I got the answers to my questions from the Great Mother. I feel content,” you nod your head, confirming her words. She hums.

“Y/N, we are very grateful to both you and Tsireya,” Jake’s thanks you sincerely, “You saved my son.”

“Really, like I said, it was mostly her -” you try to oppose but another voice interrupts you.

“Your voice was the thing that kept me alive, Y/N,” it’s so low and husky, weak. Neteyam.

Your heart skips a beat when your eyes catch his golden ones, looking back at you with the already familiar, already addictive warmth. All three of you are suddenly overwhelmed with joy, as you lean in and begin to examine him, holding his face, his hands, his thighs, whatever you can get your hands on.

“You’re awake,” you let out, already feeling tears dwelling in your eyes.

Neytiri beams at her son, squeezing his hand in hers, as if his life depends on it. You give some  space for Jake to sit closer to Neteyam. 

“I am feeling better, don’t worry about me,” Neteyam forces a smile to calm their unsettling reactions.

“Thank you, Great Mother,” Neytiri says, looking up, and you can hear Jake repeating after her quietly.

Neteyam catches your eye, his own crinkling in the corners. But there’s something playful about his expression, like he’s trying to hold back a laugh.

“You scared the hell out of me, Neteyam,” you nag him, and earn back a weak chuckle.

Your blood boils at how angry you suddenly feel. Angry at how careless he was. At how he didn’t listen to you, didn’t trust your instincts. At how now he’s treating his poor parents’ reactions as something funny.

“You think it’s funny?”

“It’s not funny, I’m sorry,” Neteyam shakes his head, as he reaches his hand to you, offering peace, “Mother, father, forgive me please.”

“Glad to see you, son,” Jake pats his head, approvingly.

You can’t remain angry, as you look at his hand outstretched, waiting for yours. Slowly, you move close to him, giving him your hand. He squeezes it with a soft smile. You can’t help but smile back.

“Neteyam!” Tuk’s excited shriek interrupts you, as she runs up to her brother, almost falling onto him.

You laugh at her reaction, as Neteyam struggles to hug her back, and her hands almost choke him around the neck. Lo’ak and Kiri step into the room next, their eyes widening when they see their older brother. Deciding to give them a moment, you step out of the marui with a relieved smile. 

When you take a seat by the wall, you feel somebody sit down next to you. You don’t have to check to know that it’s Jake. 

“You know, I owe you for the rest of my life for saving Neteyam,” he pauses, then tries to joke, “How many of mine have you saved already? Two?”

“Exactly, two,” giddy, you play along by holding up two fingers, “Came really close to three with Lo’ak a few times but then Neteyam took over.”

“Wow. Either you’re really great, or my children just desperately want to give me a heart attack.”

“You should be happy that I hang around them so often,” you earn a throaty laugh from Jake, before his expression turns serious again. 

“But really, Y/N…”

“I know, you don’t have to,” you interrupt him, “I care for your family too. Even if it sounds strange, given my past opinions.”

“Past?” Jake quirks his eyebrow at you, “That trip to your village really turned things around for you, huh?”

“It did,” you nod.

“And I’m guessing that he finally confessed to you?” he catches you off guard with his question.

“Neteyam told you?” you ask. Jake hums, “What did you think?”

“Does it matter?” 

“It does to me.”

“Well,” Jake looks into the distance, “I thought it would be great if you returned his feelings.”

“But why? I wasn’t exactly nice to you,” you’re really confused.  

“You were okay,” he smirks, finding your reaction amusing, “And kind of made a great point about me.”

“I don’t get it,” you chuckle in disbelief, “So you think I was right to put the blame on you?”

“I do,” he nods his head, “You were just the first one to say it to my face. Even I couldn't do that.”

“But I was wrong,” you shake your head, hoping that he’s only teasing you. Nothing about his expressions hints at that, “You know that the demons would invade our islands sooner or later, right? I heard about what happened with Vitraya Ramunong.”

“Yet, I was the one to lure them here,” he adds.

“I don’t understand. You were protecting your family.”

“I know. But it’s not over.”

You pause, confused, examining his face. Jake looks almost defeated, like he has accepted it, and has been living with it for a long time. You feel your stomach turn, as you recognize the nagging feeling of guilt. Feeling of being at fault. Like you didn’t deserve this life, while others suffered for you. 

“You think they will come back for you?” you ask quietly, dreading his answer. 

“I know they will,” he meets your eyes, his eyebrows tied inwards, “But I won’t let them hurt anybody else again.”

“What are you going to do?”

Jake doesn’t answer, instead staring off into the distance, deep in his thoughts. You think you know the answer already, everything alludes to your first conversation with him. But you don’t want to say it. Don’t really want to think about it either. 

“Y/N, can you come in?” Neytiri interrupts your moment, as she leans against the entrance, “Neteyam wants to see you.” 

“Sure,” you stand up. You exchange a knowing look with Jake, and try to push the bad thoughts away before walking in. 

As Neytiri rushes her children out of the marui to give you some space, you catch a hushed exchange between Lo’ak and Kiri.

“You’re delusional, Lo’ak.”

“They came for us together, you idiot.”

Neteyam lies in a sit-up position, his back leaning against the wall. He smiles, as you sit next to him, his hand immediately taking yours.

“Missed me?” you tease him. Neteyam rolls his eyes before his lips stretch into a smile.

“Of course I did.”

He pulls you gently towards him, bringing his other hand to your face. You stop breathing in anticipation for his lips to touch yours. Instead, he nuzzles your cheek with his nose. 

“What if your family sees?” you whisper, closing your eyes.

“Let them.” 

You pull away to read his face. He looks tired but his eyes are brighter than ever. A playful smile sneaks onto his face, before he speaks.

“They must know by now anyway. Tuk likes to blabber.”

“Oh, right,” you recall the kiss he gave you on the ship. Both Tsireya and Tuk saw you. 

You lean in again, cupping his cheek. Your thumb slowly traces the dark blue stripe on his cheekbone, disappearing into his braids. Neteyam closes his eyes under your touch, and it makes your heart flutter. You kiss him softly, gently. Afraid that if you press your lips against his any harder, he will break into pieces. It doesn’t take long for him to reciprocate, his arms sneaking around your waist and pulling you closer. 

Smitten by the taste of his lips, you feel the urge to hold him. You rest your palms on his chest, feeling the bandage touch your skin, and before you can’t register, you involuntarily press against him. Neteyam moans into your lips with a mix of pain and pleasure. Immediately, you pull away, examining the damage. He looks fine.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe out.

“It’s alright, come here,” he opens his arm, encouraging you to sit by his side.

Carefully you nuzzle against his side, his arm draping over your shoulder. The tiredness from your sleepless night and the lack of food, makes you a little dizzy, and as you close your eyes, you eventually doze off. 

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You shift slightly in your position, hearing hushed whispers next to you. You recognize Jake and Neteyam but it takes you some time to start making out their words. You don’t open your eyes, pretending to be asleep.

“Lo’ak said we won?”

“Yeah, kind of,” Jake’s voice is hesitant.

“So, that man is dead?”

“He is.”

There is a small pause before Jake speaks.

“I’m very proud of you, son.”

“Thank you, dad,” Neteyam’s tone is shy.

“And I think you chose very well,” you can’t see it but you can feel Jake’s eyes pointing at you. Neteyam shakes slightly underneath you, letting out a low chuckle.

“I know, Eywa blessed us.”

“Eywa?” Jake asks, “Oh, that’s good. That’s good.”

Another pause.

“Son, I knew that I would have to talk to you about this one day, yet I am caught off guard,” Jake admits, a hint of fear evident in his voice. You wonder where he's taking this. Maybe you should pretend to wake up to give them privacy?

“Why?”

“Well…” Jake breathes out loudly, “You know that even after getting Eywa’s blessing, you two can still take your time. I mean, there are other things you can do to… give each other pleasure.”

“Dad, please don’t -” you can feel the blood rushing to Neteyam’s face in embarrassment. You hold yourself back from cringing.

“I’m just saying. You don’t have to feel pressured to mate right away. Having kids this young can be too much,” Jake lowers his voice, “I want you to know about the -”

“I know, I know, dad, please stop explaining,” Neteyam pleads, as you silently pray for this conversation to end. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, the guys talk. Like a lot,” Neteyam’s tone turns even more embarrassed, as he admits.

“Alright then,” you hear Jake stand up, “I guess this went better than I imagined.”

“You mean it was supposed to be worse?” Neteyam mumbles underneath his breath. You try your best to force down the giggle forming in your chest.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

As you look down on the water, soaring high in the sky, you feel heavy-hearted. You hold tighter to Neteyam, looking around at the rest of the Sully’s, each on their ikrans, maintaining similar speed. Your eyes intuitively search for Lo’ak, feeling the most saddened for him to part ways with Tsireya and his soul-brother, Payakan. Even if temporarily.

“Don’t worry, Lo’ak, we will be back until they even get to miss you,” Jake raises his voice for him to hear. Lo’ak doesn’t react.

“Come on, brother, you know she’ll wait for you,” Kiri adds, her voice filled with empathy. 

Sully's human friend, Spider, is seated behind Kiri, his small hands tight around her middle. You haven’t particularly taken a liking to him but Neteyam says he is a good friend. Besides, he will play a big role in Jake’s plan.

It wasn’t hard to guess what the plan exactly was. From the second you had your conversation with Jake, you knew that whatever he had been planning in the past few months was now a definite decision in his head. Unlike the rest of his family, you were prepared for the day when  he announced that he and his family were leaving the Metkayina clan for the time being. And if the possibility presents, and the Sully’s can return safely, without endangering the clan, then Jake hopes to be welcomed back and stay permanently. Kindly, Tonowari agreed, wishing Eywa to accompany the Great Toruk Makto in his pursuit.

There wasn’t much arguing from his family, when they first found out. Of course, they were upset to leave yet another home behind, but they trusted this to be the best solution. Even Lo’ak, who was the most heartbroken by this, eventually gave up on protesting. Wherever the family goes, he has to follow.

Their human friend had a tracker in his mask. And knowing that he now joined the Sully’s, Jake guessed that it wouldn’t be long until he gets attacked again. So his plan was to make a demonstrative exit, flying away from the water, over the uninhabited, wild jungles of Pandora, until somewhere along the way, he would remove and drop the tracker. You would continue your journey, until completely hidden from the sky people, and live for a little while by yourselves. No communications with the human-friends from the labs. No interactions with other clans. Just the family. And, if everything goes according to plan, Jake hopes to return back to Metkayina, where his children felt accepted. 

“Just think about it, brother. By the time we return, you will be a man. Even the Olo'eyktan will see you in a different light,” Neteyam turns his face to Lo’ak, “You will make no effort to make Tsireya choose you again.”

Despite the words of encouragement, you feel the heaviness hanging over Lo’ak. It must be hard to be patient, leaving behind not only a soul brother you found but also a girl you love.

Despite the words of encouragement, the heaviness of the moment is palpable. You can feel the sadness emanating from everyone, as they all look back on the water, flying on the backs of your ikrans.

Seated behind Neteyam, you hold onto his middle tighter, reminding yourself of how lucky you were to be taken with him. You nuzzle your face into his back, seeking comfort. Neteyam stretches his arm, patting you on the thigh. 

"I see you," he says, loud enough for only you to hear. A rush of warmth spreads through your body, knowing that he truly does see you.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

part 1

wow, can’t believe this is it. also, can’t comprehend how other writers do this, it was a journey… i hope you enjoyed reading this, and please don’t forget to reblog and leave some comments <3

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

taglist (also tagging some blogs that i think might enjoy it, and some of the authors, whose works i’ve been reading non-stop to keep myself motivated): @fucksnow ; @heaven1oo4 ; @fanboyluvr ; @ngayawneluoer ; @aquila-de-l-ocean ; @aoteyam ; @moonpetrichors-blog ; @vinnieswife ; @eywascall ; @lxvvvllyy ; @iloveavatar ; @neteyamdarling ; @gloryy-vs ; @girasollake ; @mayhemories ; @suuuupernovaaa ; @love-chx ; @the-demon-soul ; @cosmictheo ; @victoirey ; @your-averagewriter ; @starkeysmoon ; @openpandorabox ; @urlocalfeiner ; @neteyams-tsahik ; @angelltheninth ; @sweetsbfreex ; @forever–darling ; @arachine ; @nyctophicbtch ; @jeojake ; @isabellapaul37 ; @melbee ; @loaksky ; @luvsellie ; @loakism ; @lizziesfirstwife ; @jakesullysbabygirl ; @theseuscmander ; @love13tter

[readyforthegarden]

When the Nightingale Sings - Part One

Pairing: Danny Wagner x F!Reader

Synopsis: Medieval AU! In a world where noble alliances dictate futures, you have been betrothed to Prince Emers, a man you barely know and certainly don't love. As you travel towards the royal palace for your impending wedding, your journey is upended, causing you to run straight into a kind, lonesome hunter. With no choice but to trust him, you embark on a journey together towards the nearest village, navigating through the forest and it's perils. As the solace you find in his companionship builds will you choose to honor your duty, or will you abandon everything you've ever know to follow your heart?

WC: 3424

Warnings: mentions of death, blood, brief depictions of murder, angst, anxiety, fight or flight emotions.

A/N: It's here!! I am insanely proud of this story and all the work I've done on it. It wouldn't be anything like it is without the help of some good friends. A big thank you to @earthlysorrows for beta-reading and editing and helping me along the way! And @joshsindigostreak for always hearing me out when I text her saying 'i have an idea 👀' and always playing dialogue off with me. Love you both so much!

You had always disliked riding in carriages, the juddering and shaking motions of them as they traveled down worn paths between villages, towns and cities always making you feel ill. Today was no exception. You were currently on day three of a two week trip across the country, and a soft rain had fallen in the early morning, ensuring muddy tracks and sinking holes along your path. You rested your head against the wall next to your seat, closing your eyes and wishing sleep would take you. Perhaps death would even be better than the pounding in your head. 

“I imagine you’ll have much finer carriages after you marry the prince, my lady.” your handmaid smiled, trying to ease your discomfort. “I hear he has one that’s lined with fur.” What a comfort that would be on such a cold journey. The foot warmer between your feet had already begun to grow cold, the embers refusing to be stoked with life again in the late fall air. 

“That would be something to see, Marta.”  the handmaid’s eyes glittered at your response. She was young, only a few years younger than yourself, and the niece of the maid that had helped take care of you most of your childhood. Though there should have been a stronger boundary between lady and servant, you had found a form of friendship in her, though it was stiff and formal. 

“And imagine all the beautiful gowns and jewels, I cannot wait to help you dress for royal banquets.” Marta slipped into a diatribe about how the balls your family had held would pale in comparison to the ones the royal family had, how glittering you would look in the crown jewels. The unease in your stomach grew. Your parents had worked out a strenuous match between you and the sovereign prince of Farrynden. It was an effort you had no part in, nor wanted. Unfortunately, you had no say in the matter, and after exchanging a few letters back and forth, you were summoned to travel across the country and marry the prince. 

It was just you, Marta, and two coachmen making the journey. Your family was well-off for the most part, but could not afford for all to travel to the nuptials. Their presence would not have been a comfort anyway. Your father was too proud of the match he had secured for you, and your mother was far too happy to lose you and gain a title in court. You wished for your older brother, though he had been long gone at this point, to try and talk sense into father. He might have listened to protests coming from him. 

The carriage jostled roughly, making you place a hand over your mouth and groan, preparing for the back wheels to follow suit, however, the carriage was stopped. Sharing a confused look with Marta, you glanced out the window. You were surrounded by woods, the path cutting through a dense, large forest. The confusion set in further until you heard the horses whining, the coachmen shouting. Moving back from the glass you glanced at Marta, who met your wide eyes with her own. 

The door was ripped open by the same large, grimy hands now reaching into the carriage. Your shriek matched Marta’s, both of you pushing away from that side of the carriage as much as you could. You cursed the large foot warmer, it’s bulk making it difficult to move. Marta’s wrist was taken by one of the hands, it pulled her harshly, yanking her screaming figure from the carriage. Another set of hands entered the carriage, grasping at the hem of your dress, your ankles. Kicking you tried to fight them off, but only succeeded in the assailant grasping your ankle and tugging you closer before grabbing your arms. 

You fought against the hands that held you steady, twisting and turning your body, stomping your feet in the mud. Marta’s screams were flooding your ears, and as you looked around for help,  you could see why.

The two coachmen were dead, blood pooling around their bodies. One was lying face up, his throat slit, blood still pouring from the wound. The other was face down in, a dark stain on his light blue coat, the blood mixing with mud beneath him. 

Tears began to run down your face, the inevitability of your own death coming to light. You thrashed further as the man holding you gripped tighter, bringing you towards the front of the carriage. 

“Oi, make that one shut up!” the man’s voice was hard and gruff, sending fear shooting down your spine. He spoke to his accomplice, a younger, greasy looking man, his teeth dark as he grinned. 

Marta’s screams were silenced as your own sobs echoed out into the forest around you, unable to look away from the blade that dragged across her throat. You saw the light fade from her terrified eyes, the image burning itself into your memory. You would be next. Oh god, you would be next. 

With everything you had in you, you braced yourself as the man holding you turned you in his grasp. 

“What a pretty little thing you are.” he smirked, his breath blowing across your face, pungent and sickening. “Maybe we should keep you, have some fun.”

“Lookie here,” the younger man caught both of your attention. One of your trunks was opened, and with his soiled blade he lifted up a nightdress. “She could be our little dolly, dress her up and strip her down.” Bile rose in your throat, and the next thing you knew, you had wrenched your head back, and brought it forward, cracking it against your captor. 

The man dropped you, startled from the impact and you slipped in the mud as you realized your chance to escape. Gathering up your skirts as shooting pain rippled through your skull, you bolted, dashing for the forest. You could hear both the men behind you, shouting and giving chase as you hastened through the dead leaves and twigs on the ground. 

Your lungs were burning with every breath you could take. You cursed the corset you’d been laced up in, knowing you could run faster without its hindrance. Not daring to check behind you, you kept going, not caring if you could hear them or not. Stumbling, you cursed, getting back up, though your legs were screaming at you. Cold tears whipped down your cheeks and from your eyes, the image of the coachmen and Marta flashing every time you thought about stopping. 

Time had escaped you. You knew that at some point you felt a soft flurry of early snow, but didn’t know how long you’d been running. The forest was thicker here, and you began to slow down. It was quiet now, and you glanced around. There was no sign or sound of the men following you any longer. You still kept a quick pace, checking for them behind every tree and branch. Watching over your shoulder, you pressed forward, stumbling but continuing to go. 

“Stop! Stop!!” you froze, whipping your head around to see a tall man standing a few yards from you, his hands thrust out in front of him, palms up. He didn’t look like the men that had chased you, he was clean, his dark, curly hair shining in the sun that broke through the trees. Fear still shot through your veins and you started to run, but he yelled again. “Stop! If you move you’ll step in a trap!” freezing again, you looked down. Right in your path, hidden under a few scattered leaves, was a metal contraption, meant for hunting large beasts and animals. You would have stepped right into it, maiming whichever foot landed in it. 

The man moved towards you, and you moved back. He took in your pale face, the only color your cheeks and nose tinged pink from cold and tears that were sliding down your cheeks. Your wide, scared eyes regarding him like a monster as he regarded you like a feral creature, scared and confused. 

With a breath, you bolted, darting off to your right before he could come closer. You would take your chances with any other traps, refusing to be held captive again. 

You had lost the sun, the trees looming overhead blocking out any of the sunset. You were staggering around, a painful stitch in your side mixing with hunger pangs. The headache you’d had earlier reappeared, and you slumped against a tree. The cold was creeping in, your sweat coated body chilling faster. 

The bark of the tree scratched against your coat, small bits flaking off and catching on the wool. Surely death by cold and hunger was a better fate than what had been in store for you, whether earlier or with the prince. 

The shaking shivers that wracked your body wouldn’t cease as the sky grew darker. Nestling into the tree trunk as best you could, you let your eyes fall closed dreaming of the warm fire in your old bedchambers, and the cozy bed one a few feet away from it. 

The sound of twigs snapping jolted you from sleep. Your eyes looked around, but instead of a dark forest, you were in a small, homely cottage. The sound of twigs was not that exactly, it was larger pieces of chopped wood, crackling in the hearth. And instead of a tree trunk, you were nestled into a large, warm bed. Furs were laid over you, their warmth making you feel slightly delirious. 

Sitting up, you inspected yourself, raising the blankets. Your dress, though dirty, was still intact. The only thing removed had been your shoes, though long, thick wool socks had been put on you in their wake. Glancing around the interior, you saw few items in the small space. A stack of firewood next to the fireplace, a small kettle hanging over the fire. Two wooden chairs and a small table, seemingly handmade from the rough edges of the items. A rack with various pelts draped over it was in the corner, drying. 

Finding you were alone in the cottage, you peeled back the furs on top of you, placing your feet on the wooden floors, you moved to get up from the bed, just as the door opened. A large figure lumbered in, the door slamming shut behind them. They were cloaked in a large coat and hat, both made of dark fur. Scrambling back into the bed, you pulled the blankets over you, clutching them to your chest. Your heart rate spiked as the figure turned toward you, his eyes regarding you anxiously. 

“You’re awake,” he smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. You backed up, further in the bed when he stepped forward, pausing as he took in your move. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

He watched as your hand shook, clutching the blanket, your eyes darting up and down his tall stature. Sighing softly, he reached up, his movement slow, and took off his hat, allowing his curls to bounce back to life. It was the young man from the forest earlier, that had stopped you from stepping in one of his traps. He put it on the small table, then unfastened his coat, lowering it from his shoulders and draping it over the back of his chair. Glancing at you, he put his hands on his hips. 

“My name is Daniel, by the way.” he paused, waiting for you to reply. When you didn’t, he glanced around the cottage. “This is my home. I found you in the woods while checking my traps. You were turning blue, so I brought you here. Have you been hurt?” This pause was met with an almost imperceptible shake of your head. “Good. Can you tell me why you were running in the woods like that?” Silence. Daniel sighed, watching your eyes cast down to the floor. 

Turning, Daniel moved away from you and to the fire, grabbing a small bowl from the mantle, and opening the lid on the kettle, stirring the stew inside with a ladle that had been hanging from a hook by the hearth. The smell of cooked meat and herbs met your nose, and your stomach growled loudly. Daniel chuckled under his breath and ladled some into the bowl, his own stomach softly rumbling as the aromas wafted up to him. Grabbing one of his few spoons from an old tin on the mantle he walked back over to you. 

He held out the bowl to you, raising his eyebrows, idly twirling the spoon between his fingers on his other hand. You looked from the bowl to him a few times, before shifting on the bed, letting the blankets go and reaching for it. Daniel pulled back slightly, making you gasp softly in surprise. 

“I’d rather not have rabbit stew spilled in my bed,” he explained. “Come sit at the table.” you hesitated, but Daniel moved back, setting the bowl down on the small table by the fire, and plopping the spoon gently in. He sat down on the other side, and waited. 

Feeling a spectacle, you slowly climbed from out of the covers, your feet on the hardwood floor again. The socks slid against the smooth wood as you stood, and you brushed down your skirts. Every step you took toward the table, and the man sitting there, was timid. You were afraid that he would pounce at any moment, finish the job of the other two bastards before him. 

Yet he sat still, his eyes wary but kind as you gripped the back of the chair, pulling it out somewhat before taking a seat. A soft smile tugged at the corner of his lips as you tucked in closer to the table. Eyeing the stew, you spied chunks of lean rabbit, potato and carrot, a beetroot or two also mixed in. Your mouth watered, but what if he did something to it? What if this was all a trick?

Seemingly reading your mind, Daniel shook his head. 

“Go on, eat. I wouldn’t poison my own stew.” he rolled his eyes, but the gentle smile was still present. Still, you hesitated. Daniel moved, his chair scraping the wooden floor, making you jump in your seat. You braced yourself, ready to endure another headache if you had to headbutt your way to freedom again. 

Daniel only moved to the fire, taking another bowl from the mantle and ladling himself a serving, grabbing a spoon and sitting back down. He kept his eyes on you, dipping the spoon into the stew and bringing up a steaming spoonful. Blowing gently on it, he raised the spoon to his lips before taking the bite. He did this a few more times, you were sure the food was still too hot, evident by the wince he did on the last before he spoke. “See?” 

Your hand raised from your lap, grabbing the rustic spoon. It had been worn over the years, no polishing, showing slight grooves where fingers had held it. Yours fit snugly into those grooves, and you stirred the stew a bit, releasing more steam before taking a bite of your own. 

It was delicious. You had to hold yourself back from slurping and sloshing down the meal as your tongue was coated with savory warm broth. The meat was soft but a little stringy, but it was a fine supper. Daniel continued his own meal, the two of you eating in silence until he spoke again, half-chewed bite in his mouth. 

“Do you have a name?” glancing up, you nodded, and supplied it to him quietly. “Are you from around here?”

“Where is here?” you asked. 

“I take that as a no, then.” he sighed. “Here is my home, in Timberhill. Where did you come from?” 

“Indigwall.” you answered. Daniel let out a long, low whistle. 

“You’re a long ways away from home,” he leaned forward, elbows on the table. “What are you doing all the way out here? And running through my hunting grounds?”

“I-I,” you stammered, trying to think of a lie. Just because this man seemed kind, didn’t mean he wouldn’t hold you ransom for money, from your father or the prince. As you glanced up to his eyes, you realized how soft they were. Amber flecks hiding in splashes of green mixed brown sparkled in the firelight. You could see no malice in his eyes, and suddenly the truth spilled from your lips. “I am betrothed to the prince of Ferryden. I was traveling to the castle for our wedding.” Daniel stared at you, mouth slightly agape as you continued. “This morning, our carriage was stopped, and these two men-“ you choked on a sob as the images of Marta and the coachmen flashed again in your mind. “They killed them, they killed Marta!” Tears spilled down your cheeks, and Daniel stood, going to a small hutch and rifling through it before coming back with a handkerchief. You accepted it, dabbing your eyes and wiping the tears away. 

“I am sorry,” Daniel murmured. “I understand why you were so afraid of me earlier. You do not need to speak of it, if you do not wish.” nodding you tried to compose yourself as he sat down across from you again. The silence fell between the two of you again, but this time there were fewer questions, fewer anxieties weighing on it. 

Picking up your spoon, your hand trembling after the images, you continued your meal, swallowing down the stew, your appetite still fighting your nerves. 

“I thought from your coat and dress, you must have been a lady of some sort.” Danny cleared his throat. “I have a few things I must do before I can take off, but in a day or so, we can start the journey to the next village, see if we can send word to your prince.”

You knew better than to protest. If your own parents didn’t listen to your pleas not to be shipped off, not to marry the prince, a stranger wouldn’t either. 

“That’s very kind of you, sir,” you gave him the best smile you could muster, feeling it barely raise the corners of your lips. “But I don’t have money to pay you. All of my things were in that carriage and with…them.” Daniel didn’t need you to elaborate on whether your belongings were stolen by the murdering bandits or left behind with the bodies laid across the path. 

“No need for formalities.” Daniel instead chose to break the ice further. “You can call me Danny. My friends call me that.” he had hoped the more casual nickname would help ease the tension of formality.

“Danny, then.” Nodding, you sat back in your chair, a little easier now that your belly was full and you knew the name of the man across from you. “How far are we from the next village?”

“That depends on the method of travel.” he answered. “Tomorrow after I check my traps, I’ll see about finding your carriage, and if the horses are still there, we can ride those and it would only be a few days. Without them, we’ll be on foot, and that could take about a week.” as he finished his sentence, a large yawn stretched your face. “Go on back to bed. You need to rest after all the running you did.”

“No, I can’t take your bed again,” you shook your head. 

“I insist.” Danny got up, walking over to an old, worn cloth that was strung in the corner of the large room. With a jump, he climbed up into it, swinging precariously with a smile. “See? I don’t mind sleeping here.” 

Rising from your seat, you moved to the bed, and took one of the furs from it. Folding it over your arms you walked over to him, smiling as you raised it up. One of his large hands reached down, grasping the soft material and pulled it into his hammock as he returned your smile. 

“Thank you Daniel-Danny,” you corrected. He merely nodded at you, fluffing out the blanket over his long body, settling in. As you crawled back into the bed, you pulled the blankets back over you, finding its warmth and your full belly already lulling you into sleep. 

“Goodnight, princess,”

“I am not yet a princess,” you mumbled, slightly offended by the unwanted title. 

“Goodnight, all the same.”

“Goodnight, Daniel.”

Taglist: (feel free to add yourself!)

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@mar-rein12 @laurynnnn125 @maddie-rae @eraofstardustchords @musicislove3389 @starsinmyeyes00

[darkbluekies]

what would ocs do if mc got arrested for speeding after trying to escape

Warnings: threats, handcuffs, chains, humiliation?, manipulation, gaslightning?

Silas:

He’ll have a field day with this one. He won’t even be mad as he walks into the jail, on the contrary — he’ll laugh. With his hands in his pockets, you trapped in front of him and having bailed you out, he can’t do anything but mock you. He’ll get into your cell and run his hand through your hair in a demeaning way. He loves to see you shrink under his touch. 

“My poor little idiot, I think you dropped something when you ran away from me. What, you ask? Your fucking brain. How stupid can one be to get caught by the cops? I’ve bailed you out, now let’s go home, I’ll teach you yet another lesson of what happens when you try to run away from me since the last five didn’t seem to work.”

Dr Kry: 

He’ll be able to convince the police to let him handle you. You’re clearly not well. You don’t need to go to jail, you need to be taken to a medical facility … like his hospital. He loves that you’re trying to tell the police that it’s where you ran away from … it only makes you look more and more insane. As soon as you come back to the hospital, he’ll keep you cuffed to the hospital bed and remove all of his personal stuff from the room.

“Now, now, don’t be sad. I’m not mad, just worried. We both know you weren’t fit to drive a car. You should be happy that you’re under my protection or you’d end up in prison for both speeding and stealing my car. You’re quite the little criminal, aren’t you, my dear? Now I have to keep you chained like this so you won’t repeat it. You could really hurt yourself, you know?”

King Edmund: (there are no cars in his timeline, a horse will do)

When a frantic horse rose through the village, the royal knights captured it quite quickly. When they saw who was on the horse, they nearly fainted. They kept you in a clean room for the king to come get you. He’ll come twenty minutes later in a carriage, holding a chain in his hands. He’s furious, you can tell. 

“What were you thinking stealing my horse and riding away like that?! I had been thinking about taking you for a horse ride in the forest, but now I don’t think that’ll ever happen. It seems like you can’t act right and because of that, I need to chain you. I can’t trust you. Try to move with this heavy chain around your feet and you’ll find that you won’t get so far. How unfortunate … seems like you’ll be spending summer indoors. Come now, my darling. Let’s see you walk with those chains out to the carriage.”

Jerry: 

She’ll be laughing as she bails you out. She’ll laugh all the way back to your home and somehow, it frightens you. She never laughs when you run away … so what’s different this time? It tells you that whatever you’ve done, it’s worse than all the other times you’ve escaped her clutches. As soon as you’re behind closed doors, she collects herself and grabs a fistful of your hair. 

“You’re in such big trouble, baby. I’m honestly impressed that you managed to sneak out and steal my car keys without me noticing, but don’t think it’ll happen again. I’m going to put up cameras and I’ll be able to watch your cute ass as often as I’d like. Hah, try to beat that, you little shit.”

Hedwig:

You’ll be bailed out in no time and have Hedwig’s arms around your waist like a suffocating corset. She’ll shower your face in kisses before pulling you out to a car — not the one you’ve gotten caught in. Her chauffeur will drive the two of you back to her mansion in silence. Hedwig will lead you up to her room and sit you down on the bed. Before you have the time to think, she has placed something around your ankle. 

“What? Oh, that’s a tracker. Honey, please listen, please. I can’t have you running around like that. We’re meant to be together, I know it. I’m just protective over you. What if you would have gotten in a car accident? You could have- … you could have died. So this is just for safety measures. I’ve told all the staff to report to me if you leave my room and they’ll do their best to keep you at home. I honestly don’t know what I would do if the police wouldn’t have caught you. Seems like there’s a benefit of your reckless driving after all …”

[vesanal]

₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊The 13th Day of Writemas₊˚｡⋆❆⋆｡˚₊

Howdy there again! It’s December 13th! Did you know that according to the 12 days of christmas song, today we would be left with 364 gifts! That’s insane! And most of them would be birds! 184 to be exact. Insane literally who needs all of that. Wait. Oh, right, I’m a writing blog. Uh, anyway, it’s the 13th day of Writemas! Here is the invite post if you still wanna join/look at the rules for writemas and here are the prompts I am going to be using today!! It’s all back on topic down there please direct your attention away from here lmao. Disregard my ramblings above. 

Prompts used:

Feeling: The ache of longing 

Setting: A vehicle(carriage)

WOW It sure has been a while since I last wrote for Perci. Like 5-6 days ago, which isn’t actually that long but still! I’ve been neglecting him too much!! Hopefully this one will make up for it.

Read about the WIP here!!

Please enjoy!! 

------------------------------

The raw air of the darkest night ran cold. Nothing else could send such a piercing bitter feeling down to Perci’s heart. It was the twilight of the night he left his family behind in the snowy apocalypse of a village. Luckily for him, it was only half a day's ride away to Haukrosen. Others on the trip weren’t didn’t have that luxury. Some had to travel for weeks on end—restless, grueling weeks, toughing it out through frigid cold and snowstorms—to make it to the capital. About a handful of potential soldiers didn’t make it, which when added up, hinders the growth of the army the Queen so desperately needed, for whatever reason. 

Perci laid his hand on the rim of the carriage sides. The metallic cold instantly hit his fingertips and stung as it gradually made its way up his hand. He looked away from his hand and towards the outside beyond them. The landscape was ever changing as the . He stared, thinking. What were they doing at this time of night? Were they asleep? Perci knew that no one could sleep on a night like this. Definitely not his mother. Shaking his head to rid of his thoughts he drew his attention back into the cart. He was glad he was going to the capital, since otherwise, such nice carriages wouldn’t be wasted on a trip. The cart itself was much more sturdy than he had ever seen. If Perci shook the railings right at that moment they wouldn’t fall off, which was something he was happy to get used to. Plus, the seats were nice and plush. Perfect for a long ride. Maybe there were some upsides to this. 

His attention was then drawn to the two others in the car with him. One was a woman who, despite her younger age, looked to have seen it all. She had a nervous expression on her face, and further intensified by the large bags under her tired eyes. The other was a man, a Queensmen that Perci had talked to and befriended—sort of, all he did was learn his name—before they got into the carriage for the ride. He looked to be middle aged, and seemed to hold others and himself in high regard, never letting anyone get away with anything outside of the rules. Something about this man drew Perci in, like he was someone to depend on. He wasn’t like any of the Queensmen that occupied his village, he felt more approachable. So, Perci decided to approach the man through conversation.

“Queensmen Hyde, sir, I have a question.” Perci forced out of his mouth to make conversation with the older man, it was going to be a long ride, after all.

“Fire away, Tarros, there’s no rush.” The Queensmen said, 

Perci kept his mouth open, slightly to even dare to ask anything to a man who had so much power over him, but continued on with his question, “Is it true that the gates keep Haurkrosen so hot?”

“Well, yes. The Gates of Gunnhildr do keep the winter winds out, but it also has properties that act as a shield to all cold. And thus, the temperature stays warm all year long, with no snow in sight between the walls. The grass grows green, the people thrive. Harmonious, right?”

“Is it magic? The same kind we use?”

“Yes. Yes it is.”

“Is there some kind of source for this? There has to be for an entire city

“Not that I know of. I’m sure many researchers in Haukrosen could make up so many wild theories about it, but if you ask me, Tarros, all we know is that it’s there, it’s some kind of magic and the people are happy.”

“Interesting. Perhaps it is from the core of the stone.” Perci muttered.

“Perhaps indeed.”

------------------------------

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[yxlnst]

Viking Adventure w/ Wonwoo

Since alot of people loved the theme park date with wonwoo ff, i made another one!

idol!Wonwoo x readet!y/n

🧸 Word count 🧸 : 676

Fluff

🧸 - - - - - - - - - - - - 🎀 - - - - - - - - - - - 🧸

The theme park was alive with excitement, families and friends exploring the various attractions. You and Wonwoo had decided to spend the day at the Viking-themed area, which promised a mix of adventure, history, and thrilling rides.

As you walked through the entrance, you were greeted by the sight of towering wooden structures, dragon-headed ships, and actors dressed in traditional Viking attire. Wonwoo, always up for a unique experience, had a look of childlike excitement on his face.

“This is going to be fun,” he said, taking your hand. “Ready to explore, my brave Viking?”

You smiled, feeling both excited and a bit nervous. “I think so, as long as you’re with me.”

First, you both decided to try the Viking ship ride, a large swing that looked like an ancient longship. As the ride began to swing higher and higher, you felt a knot of fear tightening in your stomach.

Wonwoo noticed your apprehension and immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you close. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you,” he whispered reassuringly in your ear.

You held onto his arm tightly, trying to focus on his steady presence rather than the dizzying height. “I’m not very good with heights,” you admitted, your voice shaking slightly.

He gave you a comforting squeeze. “Just keep your eyes on me, okay?”

Following his advice, you looked at him instead of the rapidly changing scenery. His calm smile and the warmth of his embrace helped to ease your fear, and before you knew it, the ride was slowing down.

Once you were back on solid ground, you both laughed, the tension melting away. “See? That wasn’t so bad,” Wonwoo said, still holding you close.

You nodded, feeling a bit braver. “Thanks to you.”

Next, you wandered through the Viking village, enjoying the various exhibits and activities. You tried on Viking helmets, watched a blacksmith at work, and even attempted to weave a small bracelet together. All the while, Wonwoo stayed close, his hand never far from yours.

As the afternoon sun began to dip, casting a warm glow over the park, you both spotted a roller coaster that looked both exhilarating and terrifying. The ride twisted and turned, with steep drops and sharp turns that made your heart race just looking at it.

Wonwoo turned to you, a mischievous glint in his eye. “What do you say? One last adventure for the day?”

You hesitated, but his infectious enthusiasm was hard to resist. “Only if we can sit together,” you said, trying to muster your courage.

He laughed and took your hand. “Of course. I’ll be right there with you.”

As you both buckled into the ride, you felt your anxiety creeping back. The coaster started its slow climb, and you instinctively reached for Wonwoo’s arm, gripping it tightly.

“It’s okay,” he said, leaning closer. “I’m right here.”

When the coaster reached the peak and began its descent, you screamed, but it was a mix of fear and exhilaration. Wonwoo’s arm was a solid anchor, and you clung to it, feeling the rush of the ride.

When it finally came to a stop, you were breathless and laughing. “That was insane!” you said, your heart still pounding.

Wonwoo grinned, clearly thrilled. “You did great! I’m proud of you.”

As the day came to a close, you both found a quiet spot overlooking the park. The lights twinkled in the evening, creating a magical atmosphere.

“Thank you for today,” you said, resting your head on his shoulder. “I had so much fun, even if some of it was a bit scary.”

He wrapped his arms around your waist again, holding you close. “I’m glad. I had an amazing time too. And remember, we’re in this together, no matter how scary it gets.”

You looked up at him, feeling a deep sense of contentment. “Always.”

Under the twinkling lights of the theme park, you and Wonwoo shared a perfect moment, wrapped in each other’s arms, ready for whatever adventures life had in store.

[kim-jongin-s]

svt fic recs (mostly nc-17; jeongcheol, minwon, verkwan, wonchan + other)

JEONGCHEOL

"is it casual now?". au. oneshot, 1.5k. r.

They had agreed on something with no strings attached four years ago.

"lightning in a bottle". oneshot, 2k. pg-13.

Jeonghan hasn’t said a word since they peeled away from the group, and he doesn’t say anything now. He looks around the waiting room, then cocks an eyebrow at Seungcheol, who is locking the door.

“Aren’t we too old for this?”

"teach me a lesson, get me where it hurts". au. oneshot, 2.5k. nc-17.

“I said we’re not dating.” He frowns sweetly. It’s almost a pout. “I never said anything about this.”

"i don't think i can stop it". oneshot, 3k. nc-17.

Seungcheol sees the Dazed covers and goes a little bit insane. (Jeonghan is along for the ride)

"a summer's harvest". historical!au: farmer!sc, prince!jh. oneshot, 3.6k. nc-17.

seungcheol is a farmer caring for the dry and hot soil of the countryside, not having anything else but his cattle to entertain. something changes when there is a rumour about the crown prince visiting their land one summer.

"why don't you do right?". historical!au: mafia boss!sc, club singer!jh. oneshot, 5k. nc-17.

As Jeonghan begins to sing, a lamp turns on at the rear table and his eyes lock with a dark, heavy-lidded gaze. So this is him, the youngest crime boss in the city; the man with the million dollar smile that closes million dollar deals; the Prince of Diamonds himself, Choi Seungcheol.

"oxygen to a flame". au. oneshot, 5.5k. nc-17.

Jeonghan spends most of his time in the lab, his brain wired to work through analytical experiments; definitely not to make a clay pot in a pottery class with an extremely hot instructor.

"the eye of the wind". historical!au, pirate!au. oneshot, 8.6k. nc-17.

‘My quartermaster tells me you’re worth your keep. That I shouldn’t throw you off my ship.’

It’s a question; he’s waiting for Jeonghan to prove his loyalty. He expects him to beg.

‘I’ve been cleaning your deck in the hot sun for almost a week, Captain. What more would you have me do?’

"sunflower, vol. 6". office!au. oneshot, 9k. pg-13.

Yoon Jeonghan is good at a lot of things. Being oblivious is at the top of that list.

"sour candy". office!au. oneshot, 11k. pg-13.

New hire Seungcheol is a nice guy. The nicest guy in the world, some would say. Somehow, Jeonghan is the only person Seungcheol is capable of hating.

MINWON

"angel baby". au. oneshot, 5k. nc-17.

On some days, Mingyu comes home to a different Wonwoo – softer, more pliant, often dressed in Mingyu’s clothes and nothing else other than a rosy flush and a mellow smile.

"wabi-sabi". omegaverse: beta!ww, alpha!mg. 17 chapters, 73k. nc-17.

Destiny has never favored Jeon Wonwoo, and he knows it never will.

He has come to accept his cruel fate, used to life's tribulations, but Kim Mingyu makes it harder for him to simply give up.

"s.o.s. d'un terrien en détresse". historical!au. 15 chapters, 129k. nc-17.

Wonwoo lives in a village that refuses to see him. One day, Mingyu opens his eyes.

VERKWAN

"down to earth". au: teacher!sk, police officer!vn. oneshot, 9k. nc-17.

No one at HQ has managed to find out just how Officer Chwe keeps such a cool head.

↳ "eyes can't shine". au: teacher!sk, police officer!vn. 3 chapters, 15k. r.

Hansol had known from the start that this arrangement was in no way sustainable. He was simply a weak, weak man.

"summer, the cicadas, and their songs". au. 4 chapters, 104k. nc-17. ♡

For as long as Seungkwan could remember, summer had always meant Hansol. Six months after they break up, they find each other again under a shared roof with their best friends – with the stars, the sun, and the cicadas to help guide them back together.

WONCHAN

"suffocate". college!au: professor!ww, student!dn. oneshot, 2k. nc-17.

Professor Jeon offers up the opportunity for extra credit.

Lee Chan takes it.

"get it (big)". college!au. oneshot, 16.5k. nc-17.

Chan chases after Wonwoo's monster dick and gets more than he bargained for.

OTHER

"twin flame". wonwoo/mingyu/seungkwan/dino. oneshot, 4.6k. nc-17.

Mingyu and Wonwoo didn't know what the night would bring when they invite Seungkwan and Chan over for dinner.

[sufrimientilia]

"Help me."

Failed Escape | On the Run | alt prompt: “Who did this to you?” @juneofdoom Day 1

cw: referenced captivity, noncon drugging, violent death, mind control, see above

His breath came harsh and fast, pulse beating high in his throat. He didn’t have enough blood in his body for this type of exertion, but it didn’t matter. He pushed and pushed, kept running even if he could barely see straight, fueled by nothing but spite and desperation and the sheer panic buried deep in his bones.

The hypnosis was usually enough to keep him from even considering it. The chronic blood loss prevented the rest. There hadn’t been a day in weeks where he had been lucid enough, and able to walk, and completely alone all at the same time. This had been his only chance. He wasn’t about to fuck it up.

The village wasn’t far. He had counted the seconds from the car rides down winding roads, every turn made past the sounds of civilization, every step he needed to make to get back. He thought about the way to freedom every time he could think, and right now it was the only thing rushing through his mind. Freedom, freedom, freedom.

Glass doors burst open. The chime of hanging bells gave a cheery announcement of his entrance despite just how erratic he looked—whipped by branches, disheveled by wind. Pale and sweaty and trembling all over. “Help-“ he gasped out, barely able to catch his own breath. “Help me. Please. I… Do you-… do you have a phone?”

It was a little after sunrise, probably just minutes after the quaint diner opened, and there were only two, three people there: a waitress, a cook, and some man at the counter with freshly poured mug of coffee. For a split second, they all stared at him like he was batshit insane.

The waitress was the first to react in earnest. “Oh my, dear— are you alright?” She set aside the pot she was carrying and moved around the counter with a cautious sort of haste. Like approaching a skittish animal. “What’s goin’ on?”

He knew what they all saw. Wild eyes, pale sunken skin, those garish bite marks and bruises and friction burns all up and down his arms and neck. He didn’t think about grabbing something at least long-sleeved before taking off. “I just… I need to make a call. Please.”

“Why don’t you take a seat, son?” The man sitting at the counter suggested, concern written into his weathered gaze.

It was refreshing to be around genuine empathy— so refreshing it caught him off balance, had him staggering forward until the waitress reached her hands out to stop him, his breaths so ragged and weary he could barely catch up. He didn’t fight as kind hands directed him into the nearest booth and dark spots scattered all over, noises going muffled in one giant roar. His elbow caught the edge of the table and he ducked his head. “Sorry… m’sorry.”

Maybe he wasn’t as ready for this as he thought. Still, he’d made it this far, and this seemed like far enough. For now.

“…how…for help…him some water…” Voices floated down from somewhere overhead, a broken frequency of noise fading in and out.

He needed to get himself together. Slow long breaths, his pulse slowing down. In and out, in and out. He wasn’t sure how much time passed until a glass of water was placed in front of him, but he took it with shaking fingers and guzzled it down in one go. More fluids in his body was a good thing right now.

“Who are you runnin’ from? Hmm?” The man was somewhere next to him now, offering that overbearingly concerned took and prodding for information like he had asked a few times over. “Talk to me, boy. Who did this to you?”

“Someone bad,” he breathed out, and then he shook his head. He couldn’t say more than that. “A phone… please. I jus’ gotta make one call.”

“We’re gettin’ you some help now, don’t worry.” The man was trying to be reassuring, but he was too close, too close too close too close too close—

He looked up and saw the waitress standing somewhere further back with the cook. She was talking on the phone. Maybe they were doing the reasonable thing and calling 9-1-1, which really wouldn’t be the worst idea… except it was immediately clear they weren’t.

Call him paranoid. But he’d been in captivity long enough to distrust faster than he could catch his own senses.

he’s here he’s here he’s here

He pushed to a stand. “Fuck—”

“Woah, hold on now—“

He shoved past the man and stumbled out of the booth. “No, no! I can’t stay here… I can’t…” Everything tilted one way, and then the another. He staggered in tandem and just barely caught the nearest table for support, clashing into some chairs. “What the—“

The lights brightened into slim glittery bursts. Everything slowed to a blurry haze.

Oh. The water.

The man caught his shoulders when he swayed all the way sideways. “Careful now. Jeez, you really ain’t well. Just take a seat, alright?”

“Jus’ lemme go,” he protested, words coming out heavy and uncoordinated. Like swimming through syrup thick in the air and thick in his veins.

“Of course. I understand.” The waitress’s voice floated closer, so calm and pleasant. She was still on the phone. “Yes, we’ve got the situation under control.”

“Under control? I think he needs an ambulance!” The man demanded. “Who are you talkin’ to?”

It took one horrifying realization and the next to piece together that the man really did have good intentions here.

The man was the only one with good intentions.

The waitress moved in one smooth motion and stabbed the man in the throat with a kitchen knife. Her chirpy attitude didn’t skip a beat, smiling wide as he went toppling over and crashing into the tables, one ugly gurgle following him on the way down. She had that same dumbass head-in-the-clouds look that usually came with a vampire’s compulsion. “Of course, Mistress. I’ll keep him safe in the meantime.”

“Ffu- fuck,” he sputtered out, lurching back so suddenly that the only direction was down, down, down. Hard cold tile against his face.

The waitress wrapped up her phone call, and then her voice floated from somewhere overhead. "Careful now. Let's get him somewhere comfortable."

He tried to drag himself away from the reach of grabbing hands. Like paddling through the deep end. "No..."

Of course. Of course of course of course she’d have the entire town hypnotized. The locals, not the poor randoms passing through— not that writhing heap of limbs down here on the ground with him, blood going slick and sticky over tile.

He should’ve known. He should’ve kept going.

The thought floated away from him. Everything floated away, became distorted and indistinct, so heavy and muddled it no longer made sense. Hands pulling him somewhere, streams of color dragging into tails, warmth drifting sideways slipping sinking buried into darkness.

Darkness that lingered, festered, and receded right back into her arms.

Like he could ever get away.

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

Wherever I rest my head is home if it's with you

Part 1, Luck be with you

Masterlist Word count: 2 k Charles Smith x Fem!Reader Arthur Morgan x Mary Linton John Marston x Abigail Roberts Dutch Van der Linde x Molly O'Shea Mary-Beth Gaskill x Kieran Duffy

Summary: Looking for gold is a men's world in a town run by women. The amounts of violence and suffering these men go through with the hope of getting rich is insanity. Gold fever broke marriages and relationships alike until the settlement was nearly all women.  It's a small settlement, nearly a small town, next to the Elysian Pool. Most men red hot with gold fever pass through to stock up on supplies before heading down to the mines near Beaver's Hallow or Annesburg.  The settlement has only one law set in stone, as lawmen do not want to come there, and it is praised like it was one of the ten commandments. You do not harm the women.

Preview

Going up towards the Grizzlies always brings a bone chilling wind along. It's that kind of cold that flows right through your lungs, into your bloodstream, and infects your every inch of being. But the four men on the road to prosperity aren't in that part of the woods yet. These men being Arthur, Charles, John, and Hosea. None of them are particularly fond of finding the gold around these parts but they are concerned about their friends who rode up weeks ago.  Before their journey, the men had been told and warned about a settlement. According to the men that came back, you're lucky if you leave with a broken heart and a nugget of gold in your saddlebag. If you're not so lucky, well, you don't make it out alive.  So many stories about this little settlement. They could just push through to Van Horn or go straight to Annesburg, but they have to admit they're curious. All the stories about beautiful, cruel women only fanned that curiosity. Hosea, with all his experience traveling through America, had never heard of the settlement which strengthened their desire to go see for themselves even more. After all, they've all had their hearts broken before, so what’s another chip?  What Hosea did seem to know is the major of the town. He had met the woman down by Emeral Ranch while she was picking up a delivery for the town. Hosea had, so kindly, offered to be a hired gun for her in hopes of taking over the stocked wagon but was met with the barrel of a shotgun against his back when he tried to get up onto the driver's seat. She had smiled at him and kindly told him to fuck off.  How he had managed to get onto her good side after an encounter like that was a mystery to the other men, but she had offered a place to rest their heads if they were ever close and in need.  As they reach the edge of town, they can already tell this is a settlement like no other. Though most settlements are one street, a good place to ride through, this settlement is spread out like a village. Down by the lake is a huge ranch and down by the train tracks seems to be a hotel and post office, but no train station which strikes both John and Arthur as curious. There's a grocery store, a tailor, a saloon, a barber, a gun store, a doctor's office, everything one might need.  And, as the stories predicted, a lot of women wearing pants and barely any men.  Hosea points at a large house a little bit higher up on a small mountain: 'From what I've been told, that's where the major lives. Let's go introduce ourselves gentlemen.' 

[13as07]

Tiggie #3

(Itachi Uchiha)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to denggu_5]

Requested by: Anonymous

Word Count: 3,595

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Fugaku being a shitty dad

Word ‘Harlot’ is used

———————————————————————

     The beeping of the machines hooked up to Itachi mixes with the sound of the oxygen tank helping to pump air into his lungs. His sharingans are on as he looks at me, probably not the best idea with recent events and the state of his health but there's no use telling him to turn them off.

     It's the first time I've been able to see him since everything happened. Since he reanimated Lord Fourth, since his friend died for the jutsu to work, since the village went into an uproar and demanded Danzo was taken care of, since Lord Third has been barraging with the Uchiha clan and the village for a peaceful resolve. Since my brother lost his mind and threatened to tear Itachi into shreds for 'bringing me along for the ride'.

     Genma went a tad bit insane when he found out Itachi had been sniffing around. He went even more insane when I spilled everything to him. Of course, in his overprotective way, he didn't see any of it as my fault and blamed it all on Itachi. Since my little confession, he's been more overbarring than usual. Having his friends or underlings watching over me, trying to convince Lord Third - who has a hell of a lot more important things to worry about - to 'retire' me from the Anbus. Hell, even now some of his scouts are standing behind the hospital room door to eavesdrop and monitor my time with Itachi.

     "Do you know there's two - "

     "I know," I mutter, cutting his question off. "Genma is a little..."

     "Terrified of you being around me?" Itachi asks, finally turning off his eyes and laying his head back down on his pillows.

     "Yes." Silence falls between us, Itachi watching the ceiling as I watch his chest fall and jump back up again. "Rumor in the village is that your dad is going to take over as the fifth Hokage," I mention softly, feeling out to see how true the rumor might be. "The village is calling for Lord Third to step down or be overthrown."

     Itachi turns his head, the exhaustion evident on his face as he looks at me. "It's not a rumor. My father will be Lord Fifth."

     "Is that a good thing?"

     He hums, slowly nodding his head in agreement. "If the inauguration goes through the tension between the clan and the council should go down and hopefully end once everything settles."

     "And what about you?" I ask, shifting in my spot to get more comfortable.

     Itachi's eyes crawl over me, working slowly up to my face. "Lord Third and my father agree that there is a good chance I could take over after him. As for now, he wants me to stay in the anbus and be his sort of 'right hand' I suppose."

     "What do you want to do?"

     "Kiss you," he answers instantly, his eyes going wide once he realizes what he said. "I'm sorry, that wasn't very appropriate of me and not going to help our situation with your brother."

Itachi keeps rambling on with his apology as I lean forward, hovering my head in front of his. "Shut up, Tach," I mutter before pressing my lips against his.

He's cherry red when I pull away, sharingans back on as he looks up at me. "I... ah... thank you."

"Of course, it's the least I can do for our village's hero in the shadows," I mutter, brushing my lips against his once more before climbing to my feet. "I should get going before Genma gets back from his mission. I'll see you later."

"See you later," he echoes, eyes still trailing after me as I leave the room.

———————————

The locker room is buzzing with talk as I approach it, all the talk cutting off when I open the door. It's the first day I've been back since everything, it's also the mark of the first full week of Fugaku being Hokage, and not everyone is taking the change nicely. Not everyone is taking what Itachi did - and my connection to him - nicely either.

     Eyes are glued to me as I head toward my locker, even Squirrel tenses when I settle into my spot. "Welcome back, Tiggie," Captain's voice rings out, followed by his footsteps approaching me.

     "Doggie," I great back, turning to face him. "I'm glad to be back."

He lets out a hum, handing me a thin file. "The Hokage wishes to see you before you start your duty for the day."

"Oh," I mutter, taking a peak into my file. There's nothing in it but a sticky note with scratchy handwriting, the words 'stay beside Itachi; order by' written on it paired with Fugaku's signature. That's either really good or really bad; we'll see which one soon.

I quickly change, waving goodbye to the Captain before snapping on my mask and slipping out the door. My nerves shift as I make the short walk to the Hokage's office, every possible reason for this meeting running through my mind.

When I settle in front of the door, I give myself a few moments to fix my thoughts before knocking. Instantly, the door swings open, an exhausted Itachi standing in the doorway. His eyes light up when he notices me, a soft smile on his face. "Hello, Tiggie. What are you doing here?"

"I asked her to stop by," His father says, standing up from his desk.

"Lord Fifth," I mutter, bowing to the new ruler of our village.

"Go wait outside, Itachi. You can have your Tiggie in a moment," Fugaku orders, throwing his hand toward the door. Reluctantly, Itachi does as ordered, slowly leaving the room so I'm alone with his father. "Please. Sit." He orders, shifting his hand to the chair in front of his desk before sitting down in his chair.

I slide into the chair he motioned toward, sitting on the edge of it as I look at the new lord. "What can I help you with, My Lord?" I ask, running my fingertips over the underside of his desk, letting the material help soothe my nerves.

"Uchiha's don't marry outside of the clan," he says point blank, hands crossed on his chest and eyes pointed toward me.

"Oh...?" I mumble, shifting in my seat. Does Lord Fifth know about my relationship with Itachi? If he does, isn't it a little too soon to be talking about marriage? Aren't Itachi and me too young to be worried about marriage?

"Or at least that's how it was," he mutters, letting his eyes settle closed as he relaxes in his chair. That's good. "How it'll stay." That's not good. "But I'm deciding to make an exception." That's... good? "For you." That's really good. "On one condition." That's... not good? What the hell is up with Fugaku and his delayed speech? Just tell me everything at once.

"Oh?" I repeat, bouncing my knee as I wait for the slow speaker to finish his little speech.

"My son, as most people, is not useful if he is not at least semi-happy. Your brother is..." The Lord lets out a long sigh, gently rubbing his temples before setting his sights on me again. "Annoying, at best, and does not wish for you to continue as an Anbu. If you stop being an Anbu, my son will be distracted because of his... fondness for you. My son and you can... do as you please, as long as you keep his focus on work."

"How am I supposed to do that?" I mutter, letting my eyes jump around his office.

"Whatever you did to help him reanimate the Fourth Lord. Keep him happy and productive. In return, you will get a pay raise, which will hopefully keep your brother silent, and whatever comes of my son and you will be."

"Will be what?" I ask, slowly blinking at Fugaku.

"Fling, sexual, romantic, marriage, wherever it lands, it will stay despite the clan's disapproval. As long as Itachi stays productive and useful to me, and in turn the clan and the village."

What the hell is this conversation? 'Date my son so he'll be more useful to me'? 'If my son is useful and he falls in love, you can have him, just make sure he gets his work done'? What kind of father is Fugaku? A shit one, that's for sure.

"What if I can't? Or, or Itachi lose his 'fondness' of me? Then what?" You'll kill me? The question hangs in my head, daring to tumble past my lips.

"You will be disbanded from the Anbus, be knocked down to an everyday Shinobi. Then I shall find another harlot or something else to encourage Itachi's work ethic."

Harlot? Harlot?! Does the Lord think I'm sleeping with his son? Let alone think I'm sleeping with his son for some kind of payout? What kind of payout could I possibly get from Itachi? The village feeling unfavorited about me because of me aiding in reanimating Lord Fourth?

"Oh," I repeat for the third time, blinking like crazy as I try to process Fugaku's words; more so threat. Not even in office for a month and he's already abusing his power. Though, at least it's for his son, I guess.

"You are dismissed," he grumbles, trying to wave me out of his office. "As your duty order said, from now on your orders are to accompany Itachi with whatever tasks or duties he is doing for me. I have already informed your Captain that you are no longer under his service and will be under Itachi's from now on."

"Okay," I mutter, standing up before I walk out of his office. My head is so turned around it feels like I'm floating as I exit the room. Once the door closes behind me, I'm able to shake the cloudiness out of my head.

"Don't take it to heart," Itachi mumbles, his arms wrapping around me as he rests his head on my shoulder. "I will not fall out of... my feelings for you," he mutters, tightening his hold around my waist. "My father is a jerk and feels like he needs to hang something over my head. He's all bark, no harm will come to you."

I hope you're right.

———————————

Itachi's fingers slide through my hair as my head rests on his lap. He's curled up in the corner of the couch with me stretched out and his little brother sitting on my stomach. Sasuke is rambling about some flowered named girl, spilling about how smart she is and how pretty her hair is. I hum along to his rant, occasionally throwing out an "oh ya?" as I listen.

     "How about you go start your homework?" Itachi mumbles, helping - more like forcing - his younger brother off of me, shooing him into the kitchen.

     "But Itachi -"

     "Kitchen, homework, now," Tach grumbles, squirming out from under me. The boys leave me alone in the living room, letting my anxiety set in.

     The recent weeks have been nice but weird. I've spent a lot of time with Itachi and his family. Working alongside him all day every day, dinners with them, Itachi having dinners with Genma and me, Itachi still sneaking into my room at night, school events for Sasuke, and then days like this. When we're off, a lot of our time is spent with his younger brother, catching up on sleep, or occasionally spending time with my older brother.

     Genma is a little less on edge about Itachi. He's still not the biggest fan of our growing relationship but he'd act like that with any person I ended up with. My brother has also seemed to be a bit nosey after nightfall, making me suspect he's catching wind of Itachi sneaking in at night. 

     "I'm back, my Little Crow," Itachi grumbles, slowly walking back into the room.

     "Welcome back," I greet, turning my eyes from the ceiling to the side so I can watch him make his way toward me. "What should we do while Sasuke works on his assignments?"

     "Nap," he shortly answers, crawling onto the couch. Itachi moves slowly and carefully, settling himself between my legs, arms wrapped around my thighs. "Goodnight," he mutters, taking a chuck of my thigh into his mouth, sinking his teeth into it for a beat before resting his head on my stomach.

     "Goodnight," I echo, letting my fingers toy with the ends of his hair as my eyes fall closed.

     By the time my fingers start to ache, the sound of a chair moving in the kitchen pulls one of my eyelids open. I take a peak towards the kitchen, Sasuke's head poking around the wall, looking at his brother and me cuddling on the couch. "Onee-Chan?" He whispers, peaking further out from around the wall.

     "Otouto-San?" I whisper back, gently teasing Sasuke's formality.

     "Is Itachi asleep?" He continues to whisper, slowly inching further into the living room.

     I shift Itachi's hair out of the way, taking in the softness of his face and the gentle way his chest rises and falls. "I think so," I answer, mirroring the younger boy's tone.

     Sasuke continues to inch toward the couch, taking slow steps toward us before stopping next to us. "Can I take a nap too?" He murmurs, double-checking to see for himself if Itachi is asleep.

     "Sure," I mutter, carefully scooping up the boy before settling him on top of me too.

     He squirms around, burying himself between my side and the couch, Sasuke's head resting next to his brother's on my stomach. "Sweet dreams, Onee-Chan."

     "Sweet dreams," I echo, burying a hand into each boy's locks, slowly running my fingers through the matching raven-colored hair. It doesn't take long for Sasuke to fall asleep and doesn't take long for the placement of the two boys to weigh on me.

     As I slide my hand through Sasuke's hair again, the familiar white light of my fortune-telling sizzles into my sight. The light is soon replaced by a bit of the future. I can still feel the boys weighing on my stomach and I can still hear their soft breaths but I can't see them anymore.

     I shift my head to the side, being met with the sight of a much older Sasuke and Itachi. Both boys have doubled in height but still have the typical thin frame Uchihas seem to have. The younger of the brothers is excitedly bouncing on the balls of his feet, a Shinobi headband in his hands as he rambles a mile a minute. Itachi is beaming with pride, one of his rare smiles on his face as he nods along.

     Itachi did it. He saved his clan, saved the village, and a happy future is promised for the brothers. I let my eyes flutter closed, being able to fully rest now that the future is promised.

———————————

"Come on, come on, come on!" Sasuke yells, his hand clinging to mine as he drags me down the path toward his school. Today is career day at the Academy and he insisted on being Itachi and me instead of his father, which is probably for the better. Fugaku tends to be too busy for his son and if Sasuke had asked, it would have ended in disappointment.

"We're going to be late!" The younger boy whines, trying to tug me into walking faster.

"We're not going to be late," Itachi mumbles, trailing next to me as he softly smiles at his younger brother. "We have plenty of time."

"I want to show off Onee-Chan. Hinata is bringing her dad and she says he's good at the byakugan so I need to show how much cooler Onee-Chan is," Sasuke continues to whine, a smile crossing his face when I give in and walk a bit faster. "I'm going to have the coolest career presentation."

"The coolest," I tease, getting a head shake from Itachi. "You do know people can't see what I can see right?"

"Well ya, but your eyes do that cool pattern thing and they get that pretty purple color. So much cooler than the Hyugas," he rambles, tugging me harder when his school falls into view.

Itachi shakes his head more, moving quicker to beat us ahead and hold the door open. His hand slides across my hip when I'm dragged past, fingers digging into my side as I'm shifted left and right down the hallways. His hand shifts off of me as I'm dragged into a classroom, but he stays close, head on a swivel as I'm dragged towards the desk.

"This is where I sit, right in the middle. Then Sakura sits there and then that annoying kid sits on my other side," Sasuke rambles, finally letting go of my hand to point out the different chairs. "Sit down, Onee-Chan," he orders, pulling out his chair and tapping it.

"You're the boss man today," I mutter, sliding into the chair and helping him push me in. Sasuke crawls into my lap, pointing at the different chairs - most of them empty - as he tells me where everyone sits.

Itachi settles behind us, leaning against the desk as he plays the watchdog position he takes over when we go out in public with Sasuke. Every time the door opens, his head snaps towards it, sizing up whoever walks through. It doesn't take long for the room to fill up, twenty or so children and their people for the career day presentation. As promised, the Hyuga Chief is here too, his daughter hiding behind his legs.

     "Alright, alright. Students find your chairs, parents and other family members, find your child once they've found their spot," the teacher at the front says, making the children scurry toward their desks.

     I tilt my head backward trying to catch Itachi's attention, waiting for him to look down at me. When he does, he lets out a hum, eyes flickering around the room still. "Is this a family-only event?" He nods his head, head tilting to the side when the flower girl Sasuke likes slides into her spot, her father standing behind her like Itachi is doing to Sasuke and me. "Am I allowed to be here then?"

     "Of course, you are," Itachi mutters, his face scrunching up as he looks away from me.

     "I'm not family though."

     His head snaps back toward me, eyes squinted as looks down at me. Itachi bends down, hands resting on my shoulders and lips pressed against my ear. "Of course you're family. None of us would be here without you, Tiggie."

     My cheeks heat up at Itachi's words. I tighten my arms around Sasuke, trying to use it to ground myself from the bliss I'm feeling.

     "Do we have any volunteers to go first?" The teacher asks, making Sasuke bounce in my lap, flagging his arms around. "Alright, alright. Sasuke Uchiha. You can go first."

     He climbs out of my lap, tugging me behind him again as he weaves our way through the crowd. Itachi takes up the end like always, right behind me and head spinning as we walk to the front.

     "Alright," Sasuke starts, situating his brother next to me before he picks his spot in front of the two of us. "My brother - say hi Itachi," he says, turning his head around as he cuts himself off.

     "Hello," Itachi mutters, waving at the crowd.

     "And his wife - "

     "Friend!" Itachi cuts off, wrapping his hand around his brother's mouth. "She is my girlfriend," he says calmer this time, settling back in his spot, cheeks bright red.

     Sasuke rolls his eyes, wiping his mouth before he goes back to his speech. "And his girlfriend, Tiggie - say hi Tiggie."

     "Hi," I say, mimicking Itachi and waving at the crowd.

     "They work for the anbus. They used to work for the on-field division but now they work right under my dad as the Hokage's personal department of anbus. They both have dojutsu abilities. Itachi specializes in genjutsu which is cool or whatever." Sasuke rolls his eyes again, mumbling the last part before reaching behind him. He grabs my wrist, tugging me forward for the hundredth time. "Tiggie's dojutsu lets her see the future, which is super cooler. She used it to help Itachi save my clan and the village. Before we see their cool eyes, does anyone have any questions for them?"

     Half the room throws their hands up, including a good portion of the older Shinobis present for their kids' presentation. "Yes, you, sunglasses' dad," Sasuke picks Shibi, making me silently giggle at the nickname he gave him. "What's your question?"

     "When you mean 'see the future' what does that mean?"

     "Tiggie can see a couple of minutes of a future event that'll take place in a certain spot. Sometimes it's things like attacks on the village and sometimes it's good or simple things like us training in the yard or my mom making cookies for the holidays."

     Itachi leans forward, lips against my ear again as Sasuke answers the question. "Maybe it wasn't the best idea to tell Sasuke about your abilities."

     I shrug my shoulders, a smile on my lips as Sasuke continues to answer questions about his brother and me, pride drowning his eyes as he gushes about us. It might not have been the best choice to explain my jutsu to Sasuke, but it was a good choice to get close to Itachi again.

———————————————————————

———————————————————————

[gumy-shark]

ok gumy, i actually would like some more elaboration in this moon big season such as:

The cults, what the fuck is up with that?

something, something bdubs’ last stand as the moon crash down on him (bc almost every king tag in the last 101 mentioned that and my ears are perked up)

the graphic of the moon crashing into world looks so pretty where we’re you when this happened 🎤 ?

hehehe you’ve fallen into my trap >:D

THE CULTS:

there were at least two cults formed in response to the moon big: the Mooners and the Order of Octa.

the Mooners cult was formed by mumbo jumbo at the end of november. mumbo believed that the moon was angry because hermits kept sleeping to skip through the night, so he gathered the other members of boatem village (impulse, pearl, scar, and grian), and they and cubfan135 all decided to stop sleeping in hopes of appeasing the moon.

as they went longer and longer without sleeping, the mooners got a little. silly. and by silly i do mean insane. their skins got more disheveled, eventually turning out to look like this

(in order: grian, mumbo, scar, impulse, cub, and pearl. i know you aren’t v familiar with these guys and what they normally look like, but i think you can get the picture)

the mooners even resorted to human sacrifice to try and appease the moon, but nothing worked. eventually they gave up, tried (and failed) to blow up the moon with a missile, and started sleeping again.

the other cult i don’t remember as much about. the Order of Octa, comprised of rendog and docm77, had been doing an ARG all season, which culminated in them getting a little bit possessed, shaving their heads into monk tonsures, and going around beheading people while chanting their names. for their finale, they gathered all the heads together and input a code? i think? that opened up a portal out of the simulation that was season 8 (note: the season being a simulation is only canon in ren and doc’s storyline)

BDUBS’ STORY:

okay yeah this one’s pretty tragic. for bdubs’ finale, he rides his horse around the server, collects the profits from his shops, business as usual. except the moon is giant, the ground is basically disintegrating underneath him, and for the large majority of his episode there’s just nobody there. he doesn’t seem afraid of the moon or the chaos at all, instead spending the whole time talking about how everyone’s leaving, so that means that really, all this stuff is his now! how fortunate for him!

all his friends are already gone. his only companions at this point are his horse and his pet parrot. he does his usual outro, saying goodbye to his audience and telling us he’ll see us in the next episode! and then he turns around, and the animation of the moon crashing into the server plays- it is clear from the animation that he could not have survived the impact.

that on its own is sad, but what kicks it into high gear is tango’s finale. in tango’s final episode of season 8, he’s on the moon trying to figure out a way to knock it back into its usual orbit, and he receives a transmission from bdubs. this message shows bdubs a couple days pre-impact, and he is panicked, yelling about how everything’s going to shit (static cuts off the “shit” part bc this is a pg server) and everything they’ve built is about to be destroyed. as he finishes the message, he urges tango to stay in space, because things are so bad on the ground, and talks about trying to find a way to escape.

in this context, the general consensus/implication of bdubs episode is that he tried to find a way to escape the falling moon, failed, and decided to live out the rest of his hours in total denial before dying in a massive fucking explosion. which is significantly more tragic.

WHERE WAS I WHEN THIS HAPPENED?

in the kitchen. i remember being super excited for new episodes, and then got gut-punched by nearly every hermit i watched uploading their finale at the same time.