#rip to phoenix's fics

[jlf23tumble]

hi jen, i dunno of youve done this before but do you know any great bottom!harry fics where Harry is a virgin? Like fetus!Larry days kinda thing. Kinda stuck on how to write 'lost of virginity' backstory for the fic I'm writing 😅. Hope its okayyy

It's ALWAYS okay, and I've definitely done one before, but I'll be damned if I can find it, plus you have an interest (probably related to that new video) that's more canon-y, so fuck it, we'll do it live! As ever, the big caveat is that the best of the best of this genre have been deleted, but the following baker's dozen should give you the flavor, even if some of them are only in the realm, so to speak:

give it to me like i want it, orphan_account, 1.4k

Sonic Sounds, orphan_account, 5k

Tigers Play Too Rough, blaaake, 5.9k

Tight Trouser Troubles, orphan_account, 6.4k

You Don't Need Me to Show the Way, loadedgunn, 6.5k

gets me overwhelmed, crybaby, 7.3k

someday you're going to realise, dontletmedown, 10k

give you my fever, beautlouis, 10k (IF YOU READ NOTHING ELSE)

into another (another) serotonin overflow, mercutionotromeo, 11k

A Slow and Steady Rush, godots, 11k

turn you on, make you radiate, ballsdeepinjesus, 15k

knock knock, i love you, beautlouis, 86k

One More Time Again, orphan_account, 232k

[missathlete31]

Left Behind Chapter 3

Masterlist to find other chapters: Here

Chapter 2 is here

Chapter Summary- The Funeral for Lt. Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin

Warnings- obviously a lot of angst in this chapter. Although Jake is still alive, the team doesn’t know this and so this chapter is when they hold the funeral for their fallen friend and teammate

I hope I did the scene justice

The remains believed to be Lieutenant Jake “Hangman” Seresin arrived at the docks of Miramar in the middle of the night and during a torrential rain storm. The disembarkment was immediately halted and Admiral Simpson ordered a guarded watch on the casket until conditions improved. The crew of the carrier all opted to remain onboard as a show of respect, while the Dagger Squad remained at Top Gun waiting for the clouds to clear enough for their teammate to come home.

Javy Machado eventually reached his limit though, his need for his brother to be back on land and in the closest place to a home he ever had winning out as he begged Cyclone to reconsider. Javy also couldn’t bear the thought of Jake being alone in the bowels of a ship for even a second longer, Jake deserved better.

So at half past two in the morning, in the pouring rain Javy stood at attention, his arm raised unwavering in a salute as six men carried the casket bearing what was believed to be Hangman down across the docks. The other Daggers all joined Coyote, standing in line and with respect to their fallen comrade. Not one of them brushed the rain out of their faces; instead they used it to hide their own tears that fell just as quickly.

When the casket was parallel to their group, Javy took a step forward, walking out of his post to come closer to the flag-draped coffin. He reached a shaky hand out, clutching weakly at the sodden fabric and felt his sobs shudder through his body. He stood there for a long while, the progression waiting for his cue, not a sound across the area despite the horrid conditions.

Finally, Javy pulled back and nodded at the leader, who clicked his heels and started the march once more towards the hangars. Coyote stumbled backward, his body at a loss as his heart felt decimated in his chest. Before he could fall though, strong arms gripped him, Payback taking one side while Omaha grabbed the other, his Dagger Family supporting Javy from all sides as he crumbled into tears.

The funeral was set for two days after, in the same cemetery that Admiral Kazanksy had been laid to rest. Captain Mitchell had gone pale when Coyote informed his Commanding Officers of his decision for Jake to be buried close to North Island but the older man didn’t argue, just gripped his Lieutenant’s arm tightly as they talked over logistics.

Due to the high priority mission that Hangman had been shot down attempting, the higher ups in the Navy had all been informed and were stated to attend. Admiral Simpson informed Coyote that even the Secretary of the Navy had confirmed his attendance for the event. Unfortunately the man was a family friend of John Seresin, Jake’s father, who had made quite a name for himself in Washington Politics as an oil lobbyist. The Naval Secretary had of course offered his condolences to the entire Seresin family when he stated his intention of going leading to John and his wife Corrine to find out the details of their son’s untimely demise. Despite the fact that they had all but disowned their son when he chose to enlist as a means to get out of the cold and abusive house they created, the Seresins were going to the funeral. As the old adage went, never let a good tragedy go to waste, and John Seresin knew that the death of his son could be the perfect stepping stone for his own aspirations of political office. The Texas Governor primary was only a few short months away.

Javy might have punched a wall in Admiral Simpson’s office when he found out Jake’s parents were coming.

Which was followed by Maverick punching a different wall when Javy explained the horrible abuse Jake suffered by their hands growing up.

Admirals Simpson and Bates were also upset, though they managed to keep their fists from going through anymore drywall. However if a few privates and administrators happened to hear Beau screaming in insubordination to Admiral Cain about sitting the Seresins in the front row, they all managed to keep it to themselves. Besides, Cyclone lost that battle before he even tried.

Javy wanted to be mad, wanted to scream and shout and cry and punch until the wound that had developed in his heart by the loss of his best friend stopped aching so desperately. He wanted Jake’s parents as far away from the funeral as humanly possible but yet he also wanted them right there, right in front so they could see the man their son was. The heroic and strong soldier, the ace pilot, the unbelievable friend; the man they should have loved and been proud of but instead they sneered at and tried to destroy.

The funeral was still by his design, despite the added attendees, and all Coyote really wanted was to speak on his friend’s behalf. Just like on the carrier that day when he fought over the debrief, Javy wanted to fight for the fallen pilot now, to show everyone the true Jake Seresin, the one that so very few people got the privilege to really see.

Cyclone of course agreed and so on the day of Hangman’s funeral, as the warm California sun hung high in the crisp blue sky, Javy stood in his dress whites and went to the podium. He was a horrible public speaker in school but at this moment his hands didn’t shake. He strode up there with purpose and with as much composure as someone in this sort of situation could manage. Javy squared himself as he set his papers in order, taking a glance at the crowd watching him. It was a good group, not the level that Admiral Kazanksy had gotten of course but it was still heartwarming to see the people who had come out. Every Dagger was there, and every Vigilante too, all the Cos standing tall and proud and even a surprising number of civilians. Penny Benjamin was there to pay her respects, her daughter at her side, each with weighty looks of grief for the loss. Javy’s own family came out in droves; the years of Jake attending all holidays with the Machados making them feel the loss as profoundly as Javy himself. Corrine and John sat in the front row, next to the Secretary of the Navy, the two parents wearing sunglasses to hide the fact that they had yet to shed even the slightest tear. Their son’s portrait hung right in front of them, Jake looking like the All-American hero that he was and yet neither could even bother to spare a second glance.

Javy didn’t let it deter him, instead he used it to fuel his speech even more.

“All of you here have come to pay your respect to Jake Seresin, but I’m sorry to say, I’m not sure if you all really knew Jake Seresin.” He looked up, expecting some looks from his words, a small feeling of vindication coming to him when he saw John Seresin squirm just the tiniest bit. “There were many faces to Jake, many different shows, all of them a part of him, but none the whole story. There was Hangman, the pilot, the best of the best, that’s the one most of you saw, the one he let the world see the most.” Javy huffed out a breath, “Hangman was Jake’s mask, the stone cold, heartless aviator that could swoop in and get the job done without breaking a sweat. Somehow that version of Jake became known for leaving his wingman behind. ‘Hangman leaving everyone hangin’” Coyote looked over to Phoenix, could see the young woman’s lip trembling with silent sobs, “I would ask Jake if it bothered him, that his call-sign was so purely insulting but he would always shake his head. ‘Let them say what they want Coyote’ he would tell me, ‘I’ll prove it to them in the end.’” Coyote sniffed back a sob, tears welling a bit in his eyes as he turned to the portrait of his best friend, “you showed ‘em man” he told the picture of Jake’s graduation photo, his green eyes wide, his hair perfectly coiffed and his smile just on the cusp of staying professional without looking too much like the cocky smirk he preferred. “Hangman was meant to be in the sky” Javy informed the group of people before him, “he was meant to be a pilot and he knew it. I wish that I could be as sure at anything as Jake was that the Navy was where he belonged. He excelled at it, in a way that was just unheard of. His skills were the best I’ve ever seen,” Coyote closed his eyes and pictured the times he got to fly with Jake in training, before the suicide mission and the pressure, when it was just Jake and Javy doing what they loved, “he devoured everything he could on planes and flying and the math and science of it all. He studied constantly, not just manuals but the mission logs of the men he admired most” Javy’s eyes roamed to Maverick. Pete was watching stoically, a twitch in his jaw betraying his emotions, though he stood straight and at attention. “Jake served his country faithfully, bravely, and heroically for over twelve years. He had countless deployments, endured things that would have broken lesser men and women but yet he never faltered.” Coyote sighed, “Jake took a life during one of his assignments, the first confirmed air to air kill in three decades. The Navy celebrated him, his team celebrated him, Hangman celebrated himself but Jake, the Jake he was afraid to let you all see” Javy shook his head, “he hated himself for it.” He looked over to the Dagger and Vigilante teams, all faced forward in respect but Coyote could tell they were all listening. “Jake was human, surprisingly so under all that cocky personality, and it killed him to take that life no matter what the circumstances.” He huffed weakly, “he’d kill me for telling you all this too but he cried all night that night after it happened, called me halfway through and I could barely understand him.” Javy motioned to his mother, Dorinda who was sobbing into Javy’s father handkerchief, “He even called my mother just to have that maternal figure to beg forgiveness from” there was a visible shudder from Corrine Seresin. “But Jake never needed to ask for forgiveness, not from us. He needed it from himself for the nightmares that plagued him for years after, that still plagued him, all the way until the end.”

Javy took a step back for a moment, flipping the page and taking a breather, his eyes avoiding the flag covered coffin and still staying on his best friend’s photo; the way he would always remember Jake, not a scorched body in a wooden box. Javy closed his eyes and tried to stay composed as his heart lurched thinking of Jake’s final moments. But he couldn’t lose it, not now, he still had more to say.

“Jake was not perfect” Coyote offered, “although if he was next to me he would probably have already grabbed the microphone to inform you that ‘yes in fact, he is perfect, in all things in fact’” Javy felt a little renewed at the wet chuckles from some of his teammates, “but Jake Seresin was stubborn, like a damn donkey. You couldn’t make him do anything he didn’t want to, believe me, 12 years of trying to get the guy to let me win one round of darts is the biggest proof of that.” The laughs sounded again, “And he was hardheaded; his three concussions alone can tell you. He pushed constantly, and not always in the right ways but it was for good reasons, I can assure you.” He looked up in the sky, “Jake wanted the best out of everyone around him because he believed that was the only way he himself could get better. He pushed you all” Javy looked to Jake’s former teammates, “and I know he pushed your buttons. I know there were times you wanted to punch him in his perfect teeth, some of you even did” he winked at Rooster, Phoenix, Omaha and Fritz, the latter two giving watery yet knowing nods back at him. “Hell I even punched him too one time when he mocked my landing after a long day. But you know what he did after? He got some ice for his blackening eye and then brought over the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream that he told me I couldn’t touch even though it was both of our favorites and he let me eat the whole thing. He never apologized for what he said,” Javy shook his head, “Hangman was not good at that, but he showed me that it wasn’t coming from a place of malice, just the need to make us all better. And that next day before we took off, he mentioned a few things he wanted to work on in his own landings, things he wanted to clean up-“ Coyote smiled to the group, “they were the things I needed to work on. Jake made it so we worked on it together.” The man at the podium scoffed fondly, “still felt good to get that punch in though, and seeing him with a black eye for a week did make me feel better, even if he got more attention from women when we went out because of it.”

As a few more laughs died away, Coyote looked down. There was one page left of his speech, the hardest page and Javy just closed his eyes for a moment and channeled his best friend’s strength. “I can’t say a lot about the mission that took Jake Seresin from this world. It was classified but let me assure you that what Jake and the rest of the team accomplished that day was nothing short of miraculous and we all should thank them for what they were able to achieved. Jake was shot down protecting a teammate” Javy’s eyes were still on his paper but he could hear the sudden sob of Rooster from a few feet away. Coyote knew if he looked up he wouldn’t be able to continue so he kept his head down and soldiered on. “He took a missile that would have killed a friend and it resulted in his own death.” The tears were falling now from the man’s face but he didn’t wipe them, “it hurts losing Jake like that” he told the crowd, “but it’s not surprising because it is exactly the way that Jake would have wanted to go.” Javy nodded to himself, willing his voice to stay steady, “for someone that was so cocky, and seemingly so full of himself, Jake had very little self-worth. I know that in his final moments he believed his life was not worth as much as his friends.” Coyote sobbed into his hand, which had started to tremble slightly as his emotions got the better of him. He dropped his head, cursing himself for failing to get through his whole speech when he felt a hand on his back. “You can do this” Captain Mitchell whispered softly, rubbing his hand comfortingly across the man’s spine, “you can.”

Javy shook his head, still not looking up, “no-“

“Yes,” Maverick insisted, surprisingly strong despite his own voice cracking slightly, “do it for Jake. Do it for your wingman.”

Coyote scrunched up his eyes and dipped his head a bit lower, thinking of his best friend; of all the times Jake was there for him, on early morning workouts pushing Javy to go a little bit further, up in the sky when he got Coyote to go just a bit faster, when he stayed with Javy and the rest of the Machados’ after the loss of Javy’s oldest sister, holding his best friend as he sobbed and being the strength that Javy couldn’t muster at the moment. Jake pushed him out of his comfort zone time and time again and it was only fitting that he would still manage it now, at his own damn funeral. Sighing out a long breath, Javy raised his head again, and powered on. “Jake was better than he thought he was, he deserved so much better. But even despite all that he still defied every expectation. I have never been more proud of him, my brother, than in his final moments. I want to end my speech today with some words from Jake himself“ Javy’s voice hitched as he unfolded an additional tinier piece of paper as carefully as possible, the writing a neat script that Maverick could see belonged to the deceased pilot. Javy cleared his throat, “the night before the mission Jake wrote letters for all of you.” He looked over to his teammates, “I apologize that it took me so long to be strong enough to go through his things to find them but I will give them to you after, so that you can hold a piece of him with you all as well.” Javy looked back down, “my letter, it-“ he sniffed, “it’s exactly how I would imagine Jake’s goodbye letter would be. I won’t read you all of it but there are some parting words I think you all need to hear to remember the real Jake Seresin by” he lifted the paper, afraid that if he kept it laying on the podium his tears might wet and ruin his best friend’s handwriting. “He said, ’I hope that if the worst has happened to me” Coyote began emotionally, “’that at least the rest of the team is okay. I’m sorry Javy, but I told you if the team leader spot is mine, I’m making sure they all get home, no matter what the cost. I hope you can forgive me-‘” the man started to sob again, Maverick griping his arm now to steady him. “’But they have more to give than this, more to give this world. You have to tell them to be the best of the best, goddamn it’” Javy wiped at his eyes, “’the tip of the sword, the pride of the Navy. Flying with them has been the biggest privilege of my life. I’m a better pilot, a better man, because of each and every one of them.’” Coyote looked to the Daggers, all of them openly crying, clutching each other in support as they listened to their fallen comrade’s words. “’I hope my final moments made them proud, that I made up for all the moments I failed them or let them down. I hope I made you proud too Javy, and your family. I could never thank you all enough for saving me all those years ago and showing me that family goes far beyond blood.’” The Machado contingent cried out louder, the entire distinguished Naval funeral collapsing into an emotional display of grief but Javy didn’t care. Jake deserved to see how much he was loved and Javy knew somewhere, wherever he was, Jake could see it. “Jake ended his letter asking for only one thing” the man told his audience, “he said, ‘If it’s not too much Javy, I wish that you and the others can think of me sometimes, just a couple of times as the years go on, so I’m not completely forgotten from this world. I didn’t do much but I hope I made a difference enough to you all that when you think of me it will be fondly. Please don’t remember me as Hangman but just as Jake. I might not have been a big part of all your lives but you meant the world to me’.” Javy lowered the paper carefully, and sobbed out a breath, “I will think of Jake everyday” he told the crowd, “and I hope you will too. And not Hangman like he said, but the real Jake Seresin, the man who loved his team and loved his country. The best man I ever knew.”

Javy left the podium with the help of Maverick, earning a hug from the man before being completely enveloped by his mother, father and abuela. When he finally got past his own family, Javy stood back with the Daggers, Halo reaching to clutch his hand and Bob, squeezing his bicep warmly on the other side. He felt pats on his back from some of the others but Javy kept his head straight watching as the flag folding ceremony took place as taps played out across the cemetery.

It was a somber experience, and he shed more than a few tears but there was no embarrassment, not there when so many of the bravest and most professional people Javy knew were just as emotional. Admiral Simpson even wiped his eyes discreetly a few times, while Admiral Bates was more open with his. Maverick left the tears to rundown his face with no shame, his grief palpable to all those in attendance.

After the flag was folded properly and the Corpsman moved to hand it to Javy, Jake’s mother started to cry, “My baby” she whimpered loudly, startling the solemn procession, “my baby boy.” Corrine shifted over to Lieutenant Machado with narrowed eyes, “you’re taking my baby’s flag” she accused, “he was my son, I should get it.”

Perhaps because he had Jake’s dog tags around his neck, or that somehow the coffin still didn’t seem real to him but Javy just inclined his head gently, motioning for the flag to continue down the line to Jake’s parents. He felt hands around him, it seemed both Admiral Simpson and Maverick were ready to stop this and bring the flag back to Javy as Jake’s wishes dictated but Coyote just waved them off. He was too tired all of a sudden and somehow he knew that Jake wouldn’t have minded, after all even he could never fully hate his mother and father.

As Mrs. Seresin clutched her flag and her husband held on to her, Javy did his final duty for his friend. He walked up to the coffin and stood at attention for a moment before removing the wings on his chest. He placed them gently on the wood before he raised a fist and smashed them into the casket, to be with Jake forever. Javy knew he was meant to walk away then, to get back to his spot in line but he took one last moment, one last touch to the wooden box holding his friend. Something in his heart ached the minute he made contact but it wasn’t grief, it was different, something he couldn’t explain. He had spent the whole funeral avoiding looking at the coffin because he didn’t think he was strong enough but now he thought it might be something different. It all just didn’t seem real.

Javy was startled out of his stupor as the flyover began, moving back to his spot in line with the others as the missing man formation flew over their heads. Javy’s eyes couldn’t stop staring at the lone plane that flew off the other way, the significance not lost as he questioned whether Jake was indeed fallen or just a missing man.

[rendevok]

fandom ask!!! 6 9 and 17 w/whatever character ((: also just wanted to let u know how much i've grown with ur art lol, i was a big caejose enjoyer and when i started getting into my aa phase i looked back at ur art and saw all the narumitsu stuff and was like hell yeah!!

Omg how fun! I love being able to see works from familiar creators when i explore new fandoms, I’m glad i could be that for you hehe ^^

6. Show us a bit of a WIP!

Since you got me feeling nostalgic, have this caejose wip that i love even if i may never finish it! (Werewolf/vampire au!)

9. Write a recommendation of someone else’s fic you enjoyed!

(tgcf incoming…)

tremble (for my beloved) by yilingcatriarch - there are no words better to describe this than “The Eming Fic”, and the reason it’s what i want to recommend out of the many many fics i’ve loved is because i read it like a week ago and i genuinely cannot stop thinking about it. Such a fun, sweet, and original concept & execution. I really enjoyed it! So- easy to read and easy to love! I really hope the author might consider writing a sequel someday, but truthfully it’s perfect as is!

17. What’s a book, movie, or show you think [character] would like?

OHOHOHOHOO OK SO!! (7yg narumitsu + trucy, no one is surprised atp)

I have a bit of a headcanon surrounding it, but i think that Phoenix, Trucy, and Miles would enjoy watching Perry Mason together to try and see who can figure out the truth/true criminal first! (Bonus points bc! MASON + 7YG!!) The hc is that they would habitually watch an episode or two at the end of the day, and compete see who ends up with the highest accuracy rate. This show has just enough niche/antiquated culture knowledge (Miles), random character motive bs (Phoenix), and “guy who was on screen but nobody noticed” (Trucy) for it to be a relatively fair competition between the three of them. Trucy definitely wins out in the end though, by a small but reasonable margin.

[bornwholocker]

Yuri on ice rewatch combining with ace attorney special interest… my mind is a wildfire of my own unfortunate making I wish I was a better writer

[abrthephantomq]

Miles ragging on The Plumed Punisher: Warrior of Neo Twilight Realm show and calling it an outrage -- especially its theme song?

Fuck I love him. I love him so fucking much lololol. Like Miles, my man, my beloved, it's a children's show. Your passion for it ripping off the Steel Samurai is incredible. There needs to be fanfic about him going on a rant about it online, somewhere.

[abluescarfonwaston]

Ok, I love fruit bats, so I would choose any of those... but then I saw JURASSIC MOTHERFUCKING PARK so I had to ask about that one 😭

Mia Fey, a leader in the world of Zoology, is offered a job with the newly created Jurrasic Park by an old friend; Lana Skye. She's hesitant- Those assholes are going to destroy the ecology of the whole world! - but nothing says she has to accept the job. Why not follow her apprentice's suggestion and accept the free trip to the Dino Disaster park? Maya's been asking for a vacation.

All is not well on Isla Nubar. Lana's known for years that Blaise has been profiteering of their work, that Gant has been turning it into weapons and Von Karma... Well if turning his teenage daughter into the park manager wasn't criminal enough, than turning his genius son into an anxious mess too terrified of his own creations to step out of his lab for a coffee certainly is.

But she can't say anything. Not when they saved her sister from a death sentence of genetic disease.

But Mia? Mia could. So Lana Skye sends her a job offer and prays.

[line-of-fire]

It's Pixie's birthday! My gal's turning 37 today!

SSG/'canon' Pixie only remembers it's her birthday because it's her twins birthday too; that and she got like ten text messages from her brother alone at six in the morning wishing her a happy birthday. She's not home this year, but she'll be calling home for a couple hours in the evening, hoping it doesn't turn out like it usually does. But otherwise doesn't make a big deal out of it.

CPT Simmons.. doesn't have a choice in whether or not she's celebrating. 291 realized they didn't know her birthday a couple weeks ago and convinced Jaybird to dig into her file to find out when it is. She's getting a surprise party before the end of the duty day and there's no escaping /lh.

DFW!Pixie isn't celebrating. She hasn't celebrated in years, and in all honestly forgot it was her birthday today. As far as she's concerned, she doesn't have much of a reason to care. There's other dates that are more important to her as far as she's concerned.

And Phoenix ain't celebrating for obvious reasons. She considers 9 October, the date she was discovered by Shadow Company, as her 'real' birthday in favor of the date she doesn't even know

[wowowwild]

Chapter 14 of Polly’s Paper Bag is arrived!

Starring:

Athena as Voice of Reason

Maya as Sage Master of Romance

Phoenix as Unhelpful for All 12 Seconds of Screen Time

Clay as Dutiful Housewife Who Spoils the Children

Apollo as Horribly Insecure Actually :/ and also A Pushover

[l0vergirlsw0rld]

ravish

hitchhiker!readerxperv!loganhowlett

a/n: i recycled this old fic and made it a logan one yay! this was written the day after i watched once upon a time in Hollywood in theaters, clearly. haven't written smut in so long ;_;

wc: 2.4k

NSFW

18+ MDNI | age gap,oral sex, masturbation and sexual themes

summary: Y/N was at a festival last night and needs to hit the road again to go on her next adventure. she hitches a drive with someone who might just be that.

au: 1970's

You squirmed as your now blistered bare feet stood on the sizzling hot concrete.

Your arm was out, holding a thumbs up, hoping that one of the roadside drivers pull over and give you a lift. The leather backpack you were wearing was so hot it began to burn your lower back; summers in Phoenix, Arizona were practically unbearable. 

The air was dry and dusty; the back of your throat ached for a gulp of water. You had been dehydrated since you had woken up this morning.

You had gone to one of the biggest parties you had ever seen. You hardly knew anyone, and that was the joy of it; You met people from all over the States, Canada even people from Europe.

You had consumed lots of drugs and fun drinks during the night, all given to you by generous strangers.

You had lost your shoes sometime during the night, but that didn’t stop you from dancing to the music that filled your ears. Guitar strums resonated throughout the field, each chord amplified by the psychedelics you’d taken, making you feel the music deep in your bones.

Lighters were held high, illuminating the dark field. It felt like you were one with everyone in the stars.

This morning, you woke up in the middle of a flower field.

The blazing sun had pierced your vision, ripping through the haze from the pollen white flowers. Multiple ants covered your sugary drink. Disgusted, you tossed it to the side, got up and walked to the nearest busy street, which was farther than you had anticipated.

You were dressed in your crochet crop top and cut-off jean shorts from last night. Your wrists were decked in various friendship bracelets that you had received during the night, an odd custom for a party, but now you had keepsakes. You smiled, remembering the connections you had made.

Cars sped by, giving you somewhat of a  'refreshing breeze' to withstand the scorching heat of today. 

Your arm began to prickle, and the pounding headache of a hangover formed in your temples. You sighed impatiently as you tapped your foot on the ground.

I don't even care who picks me up, just get me out of here,

You thought.

Your stomach growled with hunger, you had only consumed liquid in the past 14 hours.

You observed the people in the cars that passed by you:

Well-dressed women who deliberately ignored your presence.

Families in full cars, with fathers who noticed your needy figure but quickly averted their eyes, conscious of their wives in the passenger seat.

Young men, young women.

New, inexperienced drivers

As you began to lose hope, a dodge challenger pulled over in front of you.

Cracking a smile, you skipped to the passenger window. The unknown man leaned over the console and rolled down the window.

"Whereabouts are you headed?" You asked, propping your elbows on the edge of his piping hot car. "I'm headed through Tucson, then El Paso." He spoke. 

The truth was, you didn't care about where you were going, you just wanted to go somewhere else. You had been hopping from state to state for the whole summer now, and you weren't going to stop.

You were young, wild, and free. 

"Perfect." You grinned and opened the door cheekily.

You sat down, propping your practically black feet up on the dash nonchalantly. The man just grunted and steered the car back onto the road.

You observed him quietly. 

The first thing you noticed was his height; he barely fit in the small car seats. His large hand wrapped effortlessly around the steering wheel, knuckles still marked with dried blood—evidence of a fight from the night before.

He had a tanned complexion, with dark hair that looked soft to the touch. His broad, muscular shoulders nearly brushed against you, and you caught a faint scent of cologne mixed with whiskey and woody cigars.

He wore a white tank top beneath a flannel, paired with worn work jeans. A pair of tinted aviators rested on the bridge of his angular nose, and his work boots, as dirty as your own feet, pressed down on the gas pedal.

 "What do you do for a living?" You continued eyeing him.

The man snorted. 

"I do all sorts of things. Mostly any job with tools." He replied. 

"So, a handyman?" You tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. 

"You could call me that." He rasped.

"So, is that why you're going to El Paso? To work?" The car stopped at a red light.  The man reached into the glove compartment in front of you, his arm hair brushing against your thigh as he grabbed a box of cigars.

"You're a smart kid." He mumbled as he stuffed a cigar between his lips. He lit the end and took a drag;

"And you're running away from home," He offered you a cigar.

"Uh-no, I'm just on a solo adventure." You took a cigar from the box.

He lit the end with a swipe of his thumb and you inhaled; a dry scratchy feeling in your throat made you erupt in a coughing fit, trying to catch your breath.

The man found this amusing, his eyes crinkled as he grinned.

"If you don't smoke, kid, don't start now." He pulled the cigar from your lips and placed it in his mouth, where it joined the one he was already smoking. Now, two cigars jutted out from the side of his mouth.

"Jesus, you don't need to out-smoke me, I think you already did that." You crossed your arms with a huff.

"You're too innocent for smokes anyway...Also too innocent to wear whatever you have on now. It ain't covering much." He practically scolded, tightening his grip on the wheel.

Your cheeks flushed a bright pink.

"If it bothers you so much, stop checking me out, then." You rolled your eyes.

"Don't need to when it's all in your face. Can see your whole stomach and half of your ass is hanging out." He flung one of the cigars outside. 

"Perv." You looked out your window.

The man swallowed hard and stayed quiet, driving behind the other vehicles.

You picked up on his silence.

"Oh, you didn't like that did you?" You continued. 

He ignored you as you re-drew your attention to him, he stayed focused on the road in front of him.

You grinned.

This was amusing, you had a man about 20 years older than you all flustered because you caught him checking you out. You were probably his fantasy; young college girl age, petite, adventurous, non-commital. Compared to uptight, old fuller marital women of his age. 

The truth was, you've always liked older men but never attempted to be with one outside of your fantasies.

It was common for younger women to be coupled with older men, but the men from your town were distasteful, not like this man who was sitting next to you. 

You turned around in your seat and laid down to where your head was on his lap, and your feet were sitting on the passenger side door.

"What're you doin' kid?" He grumbled looking down at your face from the wheel.

"You want me to suck your dick don't you?" You met his eyes.

He scoffed and turned his attention to the road again.

"How old are ya'?" He took a drag.

"Pfft, I'm old enough." You replied.

He hummed in acknowledgement.

"Guess how old?" You added. 

"Early-twenties." He blew smoke out the window, cherry wood.

He guessed correctly. A devious smile curled at your lips.

"You sure know your young women pretty well, sir." You chuckled at your own joke.

The man took the hand that held the cigar and cupped your face roughly pressing his thumb on your lips, shutting you up. His cigar burned centimetres away from your face, a faint heat could be felt from the lit tip and the smoke drifted in your nostrils, the smell was intoxicating.

"Don't say things like that." He grumbled. You bit his calloused thumb seductively, giving it a soft suck which earned a raspy "fuck" from the man. 

"What's your name anyway?" He removed his thumb from your mouth placing the hand on the steering wheel. He squirmed slightly in the seat, readjusting his hips, and your head moved with him. He was getting harder by the minute.

"It's Y/N. You?" 

"Y/N?" He tasted your name on his lips. "-Logan." He growled, in a husky voice.

Your hands drifted down to your shorts, and you unbuttoned them. His eyes darted to your hands, and you felt his chest expand against your head as he took a deep breath.

You pulled them under your hips and let them bunch at your ankles. You spread your knees apart, exposing your clothed goods. You were wearing a light blue thong.

"You want to feel?" You lightly stroked your legs, prompting him to go the same.

Logan took one last drag of his cigar and threw it out the window, like the first one; his right hand was now free.

Instead of taking up your offer, he just returned his hand to the wheel, ignoring you.

"Fine then," You whined.

You pulled the fabric to the side, revealing your now wet folds.

You began to play with yourself, slowly. Rubbing supple, soft circles on your clit. Quiet moans escaped your lips as you built a rhythm. You knew where it felt good, you weren't new to touching yourself.

You turned your head to the side, facing Logan's shirt, you inhaled his scent and let out another moan.

Logan let out a low grumble from his chest and lowered his hand onto yours.

He guided your hand to insert your fingers inside of you. You let out a surprised whimper as he worked your hand to fuck yourself.

"Mh- I want- ah- your fingers, not mine- ah-" You managed between thrusts.

He removed your hand from your core and lifted it to his face, he inhaled deeply before mumbling another fuck.

"Taste yourself." He commanded as he brought your fingers to your mouth.

You complied, inserting your index and middle finger as deep in your mouth as possible, looking up at him while doing so. He watched you while biting his lip.

His hand snaked under your crop top, lifting it, exposing your breasts.

"Fuck sake," He breathed out after seeing what was underneath.

"Can't do this here." He jerked the wheel aggressively to the side, pushing you further into him.

He had pulled the car into an off-road wooded clearing a few miles away from the city; of course, it didn't take long for him to get there, he had gunned it the whole way; after all, he had more pressing matters to take care of.

You.

The both of you had made your way into the back seat of the car, your knees hung over his bulky shoulders, his face buried deep between your legs.

You were completely naked and he was fully dressed aside from the flannel that was discarded moments ago.

You gripped fist fulls of his hair as he lapped at your sensitive spot. Logan loved eating you out, your taste was sweet and your smell was intoxicating. Your wetness dripped off his chin as he sucked on your clit, sending you to another dimension entirely. He was skilled with his tongue, he knew how to keep a steady rhythm and when to switch it up. He groaned against you, savouring every second he had with you.

Logan had never been with such a pretty young thing like you before, he couldn't get enough.

He pressed his thick calloused index finger at your entrance while still using his tongue. Slowly, he pumped it deeper and deeper inside you, eventually reaching his knuckle. You moaned into your hand, trying to muffle the noise you were making. The two points of stimulation were too much.

You were already approaching your orgasm; Your hips bucked against his jaw and hand as you escalated gradually to meet that sweet release.

"Logan ah- I'm gonna cum" You exclaimed tightening your grip on his hair. This was the motivation for him to go even harder. He caught his breath against you between his thrusts. Pushing back against your clenching thighs and dove deeper, licking long fat strokes on your swollen clit. His coarse facial hair rubs against your skin, causing a slight burning sensation. Your knees shook as he picked his pace and enveloped your sensitive bud between his lips, sucking hungrily and giving it a slight bite.

Logan groaned as he heard your moan of surprise, you didn't know you like that. But he did.

You felt the pressure begin to pool out as your head tilted back with a loud moan:

Your fingertips and toes began to tingle.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

Your back arched instinctively.

Logan sent you over the edge, you fell in shambles of moans and whimpers as he slowly helped you ride out your orgasm.

"That's it sweetheart, good girl." He murmured with his mouth full of you as you caught your breath.

He slowly lapped you clean until you began to feel sensitive. Logan pulled back and looked at you hungrily as he licked your cum off his lips.

"You really like doing that don't you?" You asked breathless.

He snuck his hand down to your slick and now swollen pussy, using his fingers to spread you open. He observes it in awe as if he hadn't spent the last few minutes with his face right up there.

"It's... pretty...n' soft." He mumbled under his breath. Logan ducks down and places a long kiss right on the sensitive area, breathing you in once more.

You flushed a bright pink, embarrassed. You had never had a guy ravish you like this.

"Your turn, let's switch," You said propping yourself up on your elbows.

Logan chuckled."Nah, kid, we gotta hit the road." He tugged on his pants to relieve the pressure of his hard-on against the denim.

"But you-" You start but Logan cuts you off by pulling you in for a hungry kiss. His hand tangled in your hair as he pressed you to him, sucking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting. You moan in his mouth again and he pulls away with a smirk.

"Later," He grits, pocketing your panties. "Get dressed," He spanks your ass and gets out the back seat.

"Yes sir," You excitedly find your clothes.

i feel like logan loves to eat out, oops :)

->-> click here for part 2 <-<-

->->click here for part 3<-<-

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[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

hi!! do you have any fic recommendations that is similar to song of the phoenix by graveltotempo? or just something about stiles and the nemeton being connected?

I think so!

The Walls Are Breathing In by secondstar

(7/7 I 41,879 I Explicit I Sterek)

Nothing could go wrong. It was just supposed to be a safe trip to the Nemeton. But this is Beacon Hills and things are rarely that simple. Welcome to the life of Stiles Stilinski.

Or, that time that Stiles accidentally became a sorcerer against his will.

The Future's So Bright, I Gotta Wear Shades by Bittah_Wizard

(20/20 I 65,142 I Explicit I Stetopher)

"It’s funny. It is. It’s abso-fucking-lutely hilarious because this is the seventh time in a calendar year that Stiles has been on the run from a bloodthirsty monster and the thing that still trips him up—quite literally—is that he still hasn’t gotten any better at running through the woods."

An AU where everything he loves gets buried in the dirt, so Stiles rips apart the space-time continuum.

song of the phoenix by graveltotempo

(26/? I 104,409 I Teen I Sterek)

In a last ditch effort to save Beacon Hills after everyone else has died, Stiles channels all of his energy and magic into cleansing the Nemeton and the magical core of the town.

But he is more powerful than he knows, more connected to the Nemeton than anyone can guess, and a group of kids, teenagers and adults wakes up in the middle of the night ten years earlier with a second chance they didn't know they needed and a bond they don't understand.

Guardian by Lerya

(100/100 I 202,041 I Mature I Steter)

After Stiles finally realises how little he means to Scott, and how little his opinions and even his research mean to the 'true Alpha', he's had enough. With most of the original Hale pack getting away from the Hellhole that is Beacon Hills, he prepares to do the same. The extra addition wasn't planned, but most welcomed, as was an invite by the counsel.

He could do this, going around the world, helping other Supernaturals, getting to know the world, and learning about himself and the community.

Bite Me (Terms And Conditions Apply) by Morraine

(98/? I 337,609 I Not Rated I Steter)

What if Stiles had accepted Peter's offer to bite him, after all? What if there'd been actual negotiations? How would that impact the story?

[ereardon]

Before I Knew [Jake Seresin x Reader] Chapter Six

A Jake Seresin unexpected pregnancy fic

Overview: On your first night after moving to San Diego to spend more time with your brother Bob, you unknowingly have a one night stand with his teammate Jake Seresin. For the first time in his whole life, Bob has a closely knit friend group and you’re desperate not to rock the boat. But an unexpected and unplanned pregnancy upends your world, forcing you and Jake closer together, against Bob’s wishes. What will happen when you find yourself actually falling for the father of your unborn child? 

Pairing: Jake Seresin x Reader; Bob Floyd x Sister!Reader 

Warnings: Pregnancy, cursing, eventual smut, angst

Chapter summary: Ducky goes to her first doctor's appointment; Bob and Jake fight it out; Jake makes a staggering proposal

WC: 2K

Masterlist here; previous chapter here

You caught the bus a few blocks from the library and rode it across town to the doctor’s office. Waited in the front area with all the other women in various stages of pregnancy. Your heart sank as you watched woman after woman file in with a partner at her side or a friend. 

You felt utterly alone as they called your name and you stood up alone. 

The sonographer pushed off of her stool and smiled. “The doctor will be in soon.” 

You nodded, laying back against the paper-coated exam table. When the doctor entered, she smiled softly. “Hi there, I’m Dr. Whitman.” She took a seat on the stool. “Let’s take a look here.” She pulled up the sonogram charts. “Everything looks good. You’re measuring at eight weeks and three days. How do you feel?” 

“Nauseous,” you replied. “Tired.” 

She smiled. “That’s par for the course, unfortunately. The second trimester gets better for most patients.” 

“Thank God.” 

The doctor clicked off the screen and folded her hands in her lap. “Y/N,” she said softly. “A core part of a pregnancy is a support system. Are you married?” 

You shook your head. “No.” 

“Do you have a boyfriend or family to lean on?” 

“It’s complicated,” you whispered. 

“I understand.” There was something so soothing about her. “But I also know that what many people don’t realize is that a core part of a healthy pregnancy is having people to lean on. Stress is not good for the baby.” 

“I barely know the father,” you replied. “And I’ve been staying with my brother. But he’s not happy about all of this.” 

The doctor nodded. “No pregnancy is easy to plan for,” she replied. “But keeping your stress levels low is critical, especially during this first trimester. Do you have any friends who can help support you?” 

You thought of Phoenix. So far she was the only one who seemed to want to help. You nodded. “Yeah, I think so.” 

“Good.” The doctor scribbled on a pad. “I’m going to write you a prescription for an anti-nausea medication. Take it once a day for at least a week to see if it helps.” She ripped it off and then handed you the sonogram. “And here’s a photo of your baby.” 

You held the black and white photo in both hands, choking on air. For perhaps the first time, it dawned on you. 

You were going to be a mother. 

***

“Fucking shit, Floyd, what the hell was that?” Jake whipped off his helmet the moment they stepped foot on the tarmac. 

Bob grunted and turned to storm away. Phoenix put one hand on his arm and he shrugged her off. She looked at Jake and raised her eyebrows. “Above my pay grade.” 

“He’s your back seater, Natasha,” Jake said and Phoenix’s lips pressed into a fine line. Jake only called her by her first name when things were serious. 

“He has his own mind,” she hissed back. “I can’t help it that you knocked up his sister.” 

Jake’s green eyes went wide with anger. Bradley stepped between them, trying to diffuse the attention. “Alright, hold on. Let’s just take a step back here before we say things we don’t mean.” 

“I meant it when I said you only think about yourself,” Phoenix said. Her words landed on Jake with a solid delivery. It had been three years, but their last fight still stung. 

Jake shook his head, heading toward the locker room where Bob had disappeared. Behind him, Bradley held both of Phoenix’s arms, keeping her back, his whispers blending into the whirring background noise of jets landing on the tarmac. “Floyd!” Jake’s voice rang out in the empty changing room. He was quiet for a moment before a clang caught his attention, the sound of a locker door slamming. He moved further down the halfway, rounding the corner where Bob stood wearing a black t-shirt and a pair of jeans, a frown laced over his delicate face. “Floyd, listen–”

“I pretty much raised her,” Bob interrupted. Jake frowned, but stayed silent as Bob laced his shoes, refusing to make eye contact. “Our dad left. Our mom worked all the time to put food on the table. So that left taking care of Y/N to me. And I did it, because I loved her. I did it because I wanted what was best for her.” He looked up, blue eyes hollow against sullen skin. “And now you’ve shown up and ruined everything.” 

“I didn’t know she was your sister,” Jake said. “And we didn’t mean for her to get pregnant. It just happened.” 

“But it happened to her!” Bob shouted and Jake took a step back. There was something unhinged about angry Bob. So different from the wallflower that he had always been. You were the one thing that he cared enough about to pick fights over. “You happened to her. You ruined her fucking life, Hangman.” 

“But that’s just it, isn’t it?” Jake said. “It’s her life, Floyd. Not yours. It’s hers. You’re acting like I did this to you as a personal attack.” 

“She was just starting to get her footing,” Bob said quietly. “And you took that away from her. You took away her future. Everything she worked so hard for. Everything we both worked so hard for. To get out of Chattanooga. To not end up like the rest of them.” 

Jake sighed. “So that’s what this is about, isn’t it,” he said. “It’s not about me. And it’s not even really about Y/N. It’s about you.” 

Bob squinted. “What?” 

“You’re mad because you think this foils all of your plans, all of your work, everything you did to get the two of you out of that small town life.” 

“She deserves better.” 

“I agree.” Jake shook his head. “Listen, man, I’m not going anywhere. This might not have been what I expected. Hell, it might not even be what I want. But it’s where we are. I’m not going to leave her alone in all of this.” 

“She isn’t alone,” Bob said. “She has me.” 

“Does she?” 

***

A little girl set a pile of library books on the counter in front of you. She was barely tall enough to reach, her thin arms struggling beneath the weight of the books. “Hi,” she chirped.

You turned and smiled. She had big ears and a wide, uneven grin. “Hi there,” you said, scanning the first book. “Wow, you scored big.” 

“I like bugs,” she explained and you slowly noticed every single book was about snakes or bugs. You could feel bile creep up your throat as you nodded. 

“That’s nice.” 

“Do you like bugs?” 

“Not really.” 

She frowned. “That’s too bad. Do you like puppies?” 

“Yeah, puppies are better.” You finished scanning her books. “Do you need a bag?” 

She shook her head. “No, my mommy is over there.” She pointed at a pregnant woman standing next to the door looking at her phone. The little girl cocked her head to the side. “You look like her.” 

“Really?” You squinted. The woman by the door was taller, with different hair. “How so?” 

“You’re going to be a mommy,” the little girl said. “All mommys look like that.” And then she grabbed her books and jogged off toward the door. You had to practically pick your jaw up from the ground, hands dropping to your barely visible bump. How had she known? Then again, kids were like animals. Sometimes they knew things. You watched the little girl hand the books to her mom, who slid them into a tote bag before grabbing her hand tightly. 

Something stirred inside of you. It was too soon to be the baby, realistically you knew that. But somewhere, deep down, you knew it was the baby making their presence known. 

“Hi there,” you whispered, one hand over your belly button. 

***

It was late. You were asleep on the couch when the door opened. You opened your eyes wide, watching as Jake and Bradley dragged a barely coherent Bob through the door. You stood up, wiping at your eyes. “What the hell?” 

“He’s wasted,” Bradley said. “We tried but we couldn’t stop him.” 

You put your hands on your hips, turning to Jake. “Did you do this?” 

“I’m so tired of everyone blaming me,” he replied. 

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. 

Bradley cocked his head. “Here, let me take him.” Easily, he slung Bob over one of his shoulders, carrying him straight into the bedroom. You dragged your hand over your face, turning to Jake. 

“What’s going on with him?” 

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Jake replied, looking at his feet. “He and I, we uh, we had a fight.” 

“About what?” 

He lifted his gaze to yours. “You know what.” 

“Oh. That.” 

Jake nodded as Bradley stepped back into the living room. He looked at you, and then Jake. “I'm going to head out.” 

“Thanks for bringing him back.” 

“Any time.” Bradley paused by the door. “Hey Y/N?” 

“Yeah?” 

“Be patient with him. He’s still processing.” The door shut softly. 

“He heard me say that I hate him,” you whispered, moving back onto the couch, curling into a ball. Jake followed, sitting on the other end of the couch, a safe distance away. “Maybe he hates me, too.” 

“He doesn’t hate you,” Jake replied. “He wouldn’t act like this if he didn’t love you.” 

“Then why is he hurting me?” you whispered, a tear slipping down your cheek. 

“Because he’s hurt, too,” Jake said. “And it’s easier to be mad.” 

You tipped your head to one side. “That night we met. You had no idea I was Bob’s sister?” 

“Fuck no,” Jake replied and you smirked. He shook his head. “You’re gorgeous, but I never would have looked at you, let alone did what we did if I had known.” 

“So it wasn’t some ploy to get back at him for whatever the hell you two have beef about?” 

“This has become a lot bigger than I ever imagined.” 

You sighed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t a cool girl you met in a bar and had sex with and never saw again. I’m sorry I’m ruining your whole life.” 

“Maybe it’s not so bad,” Jake whispered and you looked up, surprised. “Maybe I needed something to change.” 

“So you’re not upset?” 

“I’m upset,” Jake clarified. “This isn’t at all what I expected. But it’s done, right?” he asked. “We just have to deal with the consequences.” 

“How romantic.” 

“Fuck.” He leaned back. “Shit, I, I didn’t mean it like that.” 

You shook your head. “It’s OK, it was a joke.” 

“But is that what you want?” he said quietly. “Something romantic?” 

“No. I don’t know.” You pulled your hair back into a loose bun, fighting for words. “I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do. I don’t know anything.” 

“Are you happy here?” 

You frowned. “What do you mean here?” 

“Staying with Bob.” 

“He’s my brother.” 

“I know, Y/N.” Jake rolled his eyes. “That’s why we’re in this lovely predicament. I’m asking if you feel safe here.” 

“Bob would never hurt me.” 

“I think he already has.” Jake’s words stung and you realized for the first time that hurt was much more than just physical. “I was thinking. There’s an apartment across the hall from mine. It’s two bedrooms.” 

“Are you asking me to move in with you?” You practically scoffed. 

Jake shrugged. “Why not? At least for now. Until he cools down.” 

“That’ll only make him angrier.” 

“I don’t give a shit about what makes Floyd happy,” Jake said. “I care about what’s best for you.” 

“Do you actually?” you pressed. “Or is that just what you think you’re supposed to say and feel and do? Take away all of the outside voices and opinions. What do you, Jake Seresin, want?” 

He was quiet for a moment. Then, in the smallest voice you had ever heard, he replied, “To be a good dad. To do the right thing.” 

You nodded. “OK. I’ll move in with you.” You looked up into his clear green eyes. For the first time in weeks, you felt hopeful.

Please follow my library page @ereardonlibrary as that will largely serve as my tag list. Anyone I previous promised to tag is here:

@bobfloydsbabe @blue-aconite @wkndwlff @mamachasesmayhem @mandylove1000 @djs8891 @clancycucumber230 @rosiahills22 @buckysteveloki-me  @kmc1989 @gigisimsonmars @eloquentdreamer @mjisbby @shanimallina87 @seresinslady @seresinhangmanjake @blackwidownat2814 @yanna-banana @bbyvanessaa  @mrsjobarnes @midnightmagpiemama @ingoaliesitrust @rockbottomphilosophies-blog @iangiemae @joaquinwhorres @boiolay @sometimesanalice @spinning-away @mycobrakai1972 @xomrsalliej4787xo @na-ta-sh-aa

[moonlight-prose]

✧ LOOKING AT ME ✧

a/n: my first ever solo jake fic! it's been a long time coming and what a better way to drop it than during kinktober. he'd be honored honestly for such a debut. this fic goes out to the anon who asked if i'd be writing for jake this year. i hope you especially enjoy it babes.

day four - cockwarming + dirty talk | kinktober 2023

summary: "perhaps it wasn’t the best idea. but you never said you were smart when it came to jake seresin."

word count: 1.2k+

pairing: jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, mean!jake, dom!jake, cockwarming, edging, a lot of jealousy, cumplay but not really, biting, dirty talk.

“What was that honey?” Jake’s voice echoed smoothly in your ear, but you barely heard them. The deep husk of his tone sent you reeling as his hands slid down your torso—pressing against your hot skin. “Did you say something?”

You keened, gasping for breath as he toyed with your nipples, delighting in how they hardened against the rough pads of his thumbs. For an hour you had been perched on his lap completely naked and pressed against his clothed body. Except he was buried deep inside you—keeping you still as you cockwarmed him. Although you were pretty sure this was more about driving you to the brink of insanity.

“Could have sworn you said…” His fingers dropped down, tapping lightly against your throbbing clit. You cried out, your hand latching onto his wrist in an attempt to keep him there. “Sorry.”

It wasn’t your idea to go out dancing. In fact it was Phoenix who had brought up the suggestion to the rest of the Dagger Squad. You joined thinking it would be a night to remember—some fun to counteract the stress of the week. But things hadn’t gone according to plan. In fact you were pretty sure things would have been better if you had stayed home altogether.

Thirty minutes in Jake’s mood turned sour for some reason or another, and he seemed intent on souring yours as well. Except instead of joining him in his melancholy, you decided to push his buttons further. Perhaps it wasn’t the best idea. But you never said you were smart when it came to Jake Seresin. Shit, you weren’t even prepared to suffer the consequences of what your actions would ensue.

Another twenty minutes passed and you found yourself drunk, on the dance floor, and with someone who wasn’t Jake. He was nice enough. Certainly not there to hit on you, but more so there to enjoy the music and nightlife. Facts that apparently hadn’t crossed Jake’s mind.

It took him five minutes to grab you, call a cab, and whisper your punishment in your ear on the way home—his hands never leaving your body, even as you practically sat in his lap.

“What did you think would happen?” His lips dragged along your shoulder. “You think you could find someone else?”

You shook your head, tears stinging your eyes as he thrusted up into your dripping pussy. There was no doubt that you had made a mess in his lap. With the way he’d been edging you—dragging you right to the edge, but pulling away the second you tipped over. His arms locked you down, keeping your hips from wriggling even as he dragged you towards yet another lost release.

“J-Jake—”

His teeth clamped onto your neck, silencing you quickly as a throaty moan ripped from your chest. “Tell me…” He tugged on your nipple, feeling you shudder in his hold. “Did you think he was handsome?”

That’s what this was about.

Whether he liked to admit it or not Jake didn’t like when something infringed on what he had. He didn’t like that you went to find another person to spend your night with. It didn’t matter that you saw it as perfectly innocent. To him…you were choosing someone else. For as much as he acted cocky and self assured, Jake was quite the opposite. Unable to see past his own fears.

“N-No,” you choked out, digging your nails into his forearms. “Please…fuck, fuck—”

He grinded up into you, striking perfectly and causing your eyes to roll back in your head. “No, of course not.” His fingers slid through your slick, spreading around his cock that filled you. “He couldn’t fill you like this huh? Couldn’t make you drip like this?”

You shook your head, teeth digging into your bottom lip. Except that wasn’t enough for him—it would never be enough to appease the flare of jealousy that stuck to his chest. He gripped your throat, pushing your head back—his lips pressing against your ear.

“Use your words honey.”

“No!” You sobbed, legs trembling as he thrusted up into you again. “H-He’s not you.”

He grinned. “You’re damn right he isn’t.”

“L-Love you.”

Gripping your hips, he rolled them down, the wet squelch of your slick echoing in the room. “Yeah? You love me?”

You nodded, your mouth dropping open. You could feel it. The burning sensation growing with each shift of your hips. Only this time it was stronger than before; nearly melting you from the inside out. For a brief moment you wondered if you would survive this—if Jake had pushed your body to a limit neither of you knew existed. But you found yourself hurtling towards it faster than you could comprehend it.

“Can feel you squeezing me,” he grunted, shoving his hips up. “You gonna soak me? Make a mess of this couch?”

A garbled echo of what you assumed to be yes tore from your throat. Or at least that’s what both of you guessed it to be. Your nails scratched down his arms with earnest, chest heaving with each stunted thrust into your pussy, and that’s when you heard it. The soft press of his words against your throat. The words he’d been wanting to say all night.

“Was gonna ask you to move in,” he gasped, teeth scraping along your throat. “‘S why I didn’t want to go—fuck you feel like heaven.”

Your heart fluttered, heat spilling through your body and consuming you completely. Until you could no longer tell up from down—your mind a jumble of I love you and yes please. But you couldn’t get any of the words out. They were stuck in your throat. Coherency being traded in for utter bliss.

“Want to feel you—” His fingers slid to your clit, swirling fast circled to shove you off completely. “I’ll give it to ya.” His teeth scraped your ear, breath hot against your cheek. “Gonna cum so deep I’ll drip outta ya all night.”

You broke with a scream, your body completely lost to your own control. He held you close, latching his teeth onto your shoulder and following you with a pained cry—his cock filling you so full you swore you felt some leak into his lap. Except you could barely even focus on your own name. Jake had fucked all the sense out of your head, leaving you with nothing but thoughts of him.

For you a few minutes that’s where you remained. Spread out on his lap as he kissed every part of your skin he could reach; his palms cupping the weight of your breasts, thumbing gently at your nipples. He let you remain that way. Content in his arms until you slowly began to feel his promise come to light. The sticky warmth of his cum began to pool at the base of his cock, sending sparks up your spine.

“Yes,” you breathed, turning your head to catch his lips in a soft kiss. A complete difference to how he fucked you before. “I’ll move in with you.”

He grinned, his nose dragging along your cheek. “Even with my bummer attitude?”

You snorted, pulled away and laughed when he nipped at your jaw. “I never said that. But yes. Even with that.”

“Hm,” he sighed, his chin making a home on your shoulder. “Love you honey.”

“I love you too Jake.”

[kcrabb88]

QuinObi Fic Rec List

QuinObi week isn't until October, but like I did last year, I wanted to drop some of my favorite QuinObi fics to get y'all excited! This list is not exhaustive, just a starter, but I hope you'll enjoy!

Hush by @violentcheese: a gorgeous Padawan first kiss fic! Made me a bit teary, tbh.

Don't Waste Your Treat by @ninjigma: Obi-Wan and Quinlan are on a diplomatic mission. They bicker over a popsicle and are very into each other. This fic had me sweating. <3

Flu Season by @coruscantrhapsody: Padawan Obi-Wan has a huge crush on Quin (which is definitely returned). A QuinObi Week 2023 fic by my bestie

Reach For My Hand by jelucan: Quinlan was presumed dead but it turns out he wasn't. He and Obi-Wan wander through Coruscant and have feelings. This is one of my personal fave fics for these two.

With a Little Help From My Friends by @palfriendpatine66: Quin, Obi-Wan, and Siri are best-friends-with-benefits. A piece from last year's QuinObi week that I adored!

On Your Best Behavior by wanderingjedihistorian: Obi-Wan and Quinlan accidentally get married on a mission. Why not have a wedding night?

To Our Halcyon Days by @lothcatthree and @krispyscreams: Obi-Wan and Quin reunite during the empire when Quin finds out their son Cal is alive. A great and super romantic multi-chapter!!

Shaking From Holding You Back by @ashinaburrito: Obi-Wan rips Tarkin a new one when he's rude to Cody, and Quinlan thinks that's hot. Smut ensues in a closet.

Counting to Coruscant by @fanfic-phoenix. This whole series is WONDERFUL and has everything from Padawan Obi-Wan and Quinlan to their lives during the war (and the moments of romance they're able to snag) to the aftermath of Rako Hardeen. Super super recommend!

Red and Orange Beacons Go Forth by @ashinaburrito: Quinlan gets caught in a psychometric vision and Aayla calls Obi-Wan for help.

Betrayal by @brachiosaurus-on: Obi-Wan and Quinlan reunite in the OWK show era. Beautiful, Beatiful fic.

Ride Around the Moon for a Velvet Kiss by blackkat: Snarky and wonderfully in character smut set during the Clone Wars.

Stumbling on the Way Home by CapGirlCanuck: a comics based one-shot that pays homage to Obi-Wan and Quinlan's long friendship. Lovely.

The Beach by @lilywhoisapotato: Stranded on an uninhabited planet, Obi-Wan blames himself for their predicament. Luckily, Quinlan knows how to cheer him up.

Liability by KCKenobi: Quinlan takes care of Obi-Wan after Qui-Gon's death.

Everything They Shouldn't Be by @noncanonship: After Obi-Wan's Starfighter suffers an unplanned fall out of hyperspace, he finds himself stranded near Karfeddion, exactly where Quinlan Vos is on a longterm undercover mission. Obi-Wan intends to avoid Quinlan in order to protect his cover, but the Force has other plans.

I'm going to be annoying and include a few of my own QuinObi fics (there are many because I love these two but I won't list them all):

Kill the Lights: Fix-it that centers on changing the Fives incident in TCW. Quinlan searches for a captive Obi-Wan with Anakin, Padme, and the Jedi's help. Featuring huge amounts of QuinObi (with lore I created based lightly off the Orpheus and Eurydice myth, but happier in the end).

Blood Makes Noise: My QuinObi-centric AIDS Crisis AU set in 80s/90s New York.

After the War (Part the First): It's Quinlan who goes on the Rako Hardeen mission.

After the War (Part the Second): Obi-Wan and Quin reunite via the Hidden Path

Always a Little in Love: Post-Geonosis. Quinlan bursts into Obi-Wan's room to yell at him for almost getting killed. Obi-Wan wants to forget about the war in it's infancy. Feelsy smut ensues.

Forty Years of Knowing: Obi-Wan and Quin commit to each other and extremely tender smut happens. Set in my RoTS fix-it verse but can be read on it's own.

Shoulder the Sky Verse: My RoTS Fix-It verse, including the initial RoTS AU of the same name, and it's sequel, Whispers from the Dead, as well as several one-shots. STS features QuinObi friends-with-benefits-to-exclusivity and WFTD has them in a committed relationship (and said relationship is a big part of the fic).

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

[yo i sent this ask in a while back and you never responded. i am trying again to see if it just never hit inbox. i wrote the fic ask. unfortunately i don't have a full copy of the ask i sent in rip]

really like the ideas, unfortunately can't focus on writing it proper rn because life just hit me in the face but what i can do is come up with before and after artefacts

the goal? piss off the monkey duo with each artefact added[to encourage yandere endgame]:

before phoenix stone: reader and the monkeys would be more likely to cuddle for warmth, like how a monkey troop would i assume

after phoenix stone: less cuddles, there's always a fire and it's sometimes a bit too warm to have 2 monkey cubs on you. when the weather gets colder or if the fire “accidentally” goes out reader would probably be more willing for cuddles

before forest stone: reader had to patch up any monkey injuries by hand, and that means check-ups from time to time. lots of one-on-one attention that spirit really can't protest about without making herself look bad. reader cuddles the pain away? they could also fetch reader plants and flowers to help and impress reader. after all, she doesn't recognise most of these plants after all.

after forest stone: less follow-ups on injuries, because while it's slow i assume the healing is still done in one go for minor injuries. potentially less contact while healing? idk how the stone works. less cuddle the pain away and more cuddle the scare away i guess? reader can grow what she wants, and what is the difference aesthetic-wise between a flower in the wild and a flower grown by the stone? i assume stone-grown flower has fewer marks because wildlife don't have a chance to nibble on them or it to be damaged by the weather. reader would still appreciate gifts from them though, but will their pride let their gifts be outdone by a stone?

before shield amulet: reader holds them close and puts herself between threats while spirit deals with minor threats and i assume helps run from major threats

after shield amulet: separated by the shield! she's inside and they're stuck outside, or worse they're stuck inside and she is left vulnerable outside with only spirit to protect her! insert extreme rage when reader gets hit and the shield goes down

before the glamor mask: they get to look at reader all day and see her face and always see her smile

after glamour mask: why can't we find reader? why can't we see reader's lovely face?

i wrote an idea as well but i didn't keep a copy of it rip. it was something along the lines of reader making a flower crown using the plants they could grow using forest stone and giving the two cubs crowns, and jokingly calling them your highness, only for the two cubs to crown reader with their crowns or make their own crown for reader i don't remember.

at least i think it was? i don't remember anymore.

I have both of these asks. I'm sorry it's taken me so long to get to. Had a lot going on these past few days. And I thank you for your patience.

I decided for this ask I'll write a few short scenes. I hope you like them. Sorry this one took so long. I mean seriously it took me way too long to complete this.

It's ready! Sorry about the wait and all. For the second time!

Before the Phoenix Stone -

You wrapped your cloak around yourself as you tried to hold in as much warmth as possible. Underneath, you held both Peaches and Plums close to your chest. Luckily, neither of them seemed too cold as they soaked up and produced body heat.

Of course, you could hear their chirps as they poked their heads out of the fabric to look around. They didn't like not being able to see their surroundings, they had made that clear. However they also didn't want to leave the warmth of your cloak. At least that's what you though.

In reality, being warm was only part of the reason that they clung to you. The majority of the reason was because... they hated being away from you. Snuggling up to your chest after taking a look outside, they both purred.

Your heart gently thumping next to them. It was peaceful. A low hum leaving your lips as you tried to distract yourself from the cold.

"You alright?" Spirit asked, a worried look covering her face.

"Yeah... i-it's just c-cold," you respond, noting how Spirit didn't seem bothered at all by the weather.

"Here," Spirit said taking her cloak off and giving you another layer of warmth.

"W-What a-about y-you?" You asked, your eyes narrowing slightly.

Spirit waved you off with a grin, "I'm fine. My fur is thick this time of year. I'm more bothered by the heat than the cold."

'Good, then maybe you'll leave us alone when we take Reader home,' Wukong thought to himself as he glanced up out of your cloak again.

"T-thanks," you smiled before checking the two monkeys clinging to you who didn't mind the extra warmth.

"No problem," Spirit grinned before shooting a discreet glare at the small golden monkey.

Wukong for his part sent her a glare right back. Macaque decided not to participate in favor of pressing his ears against her chest to listen to her heartbeat. It was soothing and calming. Relaxing in her hold he didn't bother arguing with anyone. Spirit would be a fool to try to take them away from Reader, after all that would make her look really bad.

After The Phoenix Stone

*chrip* *chirp*

Plum chirped as he tried to jump into your arms, only for you to grip his scruff gently and set him back on your shoulder. Which caused him to let out a quiet hiss.

"It's too hot for that," you muttered as you sat away from the roaring fire.

After struggling to get it lite for over an hour you were finally able to get the stone to get warm enough to light a spark. However in doing so, because you didn’t know how to properly use it you also felt your wings grow out of your back. Which results in the extra heat that always emits from the large, red, orange and yellow wings. To you the heat was almost unbearable at times. On the bright side at least you weren’t freezing and you were all able to sit around the fire even if you weren’t able to escape the heat now.

“It’s too hot for anything. Can’t you get rid of the wings? I know that you need more heat than me but seriously,” Spirit asked, as she sprawled out on the ground panting as she sat as far away from the fire as she could. Without being to far to protect you in case of danger.

“Not sure how,” You muttered a flush appearing on your face. If it had just been the wings it wouldn’t be too bad, but the wings combined with the fire that you set was hot.

The Phoenix Stone was honestly a pain at times. You couldn’t activate it when it was too cold, you couldn’t make the wings go away even when it was cold. It made no sense!! You grumbled, before laying on the ground with a huff. Both of the monkeys jumped onto your stomach from your shoulders and laid down to cuddle. However as soon as they did you picked them up and set them beside you.

“It’s too hot,” You muttered.

A growl left both of the cubs. They walked up on all fours and tried to hop back up only to be set back on the ground. Peaches chirped angrily before sitting on the ground back to you in retaliation.

“Quite whining,” Spirit grumbled as she turned over trying to sleep.

Before The Forest Stone

*Chirp* *Chirp*

Plums chirped as he looked over Peaches who had a thin scratch across his arm. You were fretting over him worriedly, but weren’t absolutely loosing it because you knew it wasn’t deep. However the monkey was being overly dramatic, even Plums could tell if his eye roll had anything to say about it.

“Calm down. I know it’s not that bad,” You chuckle as you cuddled him to your chest. He let out dramatic chirps and continued to wiggle around in your lap.

Carefully, you took a long piece of fabric from your bag. The cloth wasn't exactly designed for bandaging any sort of wound, but you would make do with what you had. Besides, as you had thought before, the wound wasn't bad.

Wrapping it around his arm the Monkey looked at you with a wagging tail. Though his ears were pushed down as he attempted to look hurt.

"Is that better?" You asked with a smile.

The monkey in question then chirped and held his injured arm up. With a chuckle you gave it a few kisses. Nuzzling your face against his you grinned happily. He was so cute.

Suddenly you felt a slap on your head, a tiny slap but a slap non the less. Looking over you saw Plums pouting his six ears downcast as he looked up at you with practiced puppy eyes.

"Oh my sweety, there's enough kisses for you too," you laugh lifting up the Monkey to give him a few kisses on the face.

Which of course resulted in more chirps from Peaches. And more kisses for both of them.

After The Forest Stone

After the forest stone whenever you would patch them up. You would give them less after cuddles and they hated this.

As for the shield stone and glamour mask? Well those are actually for later and I don't want to spoil the surprise more than I have with my last post. ‘Anger’. Hehe 😏

Flower Crowns

“Lalala,” You were softly singing, something you didn’t normally do.

You hated singing in front of others but right now, you were happy to sing while the two cubs sat beside you as you wove flowers together. You had already completed one made of dandelions and was now working one made out of lavender. They weren’t very good but it was still quite fun to make them.

*Chirp?*

Looking down, Plums was looking up at you with a curious look on his face as you finished up the lavender crown. A wide smile covering your face.

“And done,” You said with a giddy smile.

That caught Peaches’ attention causing him to look over your shoulder. Setting both crowns on your lap you gently picked up Peaches and set him next to Plums. Which of course resulted in a small growl from the cub. You couldn’t help but laugh at the gesture.

“Here you go. Dandelions for Peaches and lavender for Plums,” You grinned as you gently set the crowns atop their heads.

Immediately the two looked at each other and then tried to look up at themselves to see the crown. You couldn’t help but laugh at the antics that they did. They were so cute!

"Two crowns for two little kings."

Their tails started wagging excitedly as they looked up at you with wide eyes. Peaches jumped into your lap and nuzzled against you. Yes he was a king weather little or his warlord form. He was the mightiest king.

Plums let out several chirps that only his companion understood. It only made Peaches nuzzle into you more. 'She says we're her kings once we return to normal... then we can make her our Queen.'

Yes what a splendid idea! They would make you their Queen. In fact why should they even have to wait? As Great Kings now all they needed to do was crown you. A crown of roses, you mentioned how you loved the pretty red roses.

But they didn't have any roses.... oh that'll work!

With a swift movement both monkeys jumped on your shoulders causing you to chuckle. Before a pout formed on your face when they removed their crowns. Did they not like them?

Oh... both crowns were set atop your head though they were too small for you. You couldn't help bit laugh at the gesture before they both leaned down. You couldn't help but give them each a little kiss on the cheek.

"I guess I'm the Queen then," you laugh. Unaware of the intentions of the two tiny warlords that sat on your shoulders.

"Hey Reader! You ready to go?" Spirit called out as she walked back up to you.

She held a bowl of water in her hand for you that you gratefully drank before following her lead.

Okay!! I think this time this will work right! I wrote the rest of it on my notes app!

Anyways I hope you enjoy, sorry it was shorter than I planned however it gave me a pain in the ass. So hope you enjoy!!

Send me opinions and asks all you want. Nothing is forbidden so throw it at me. 💗

[shu-box-puns]

I never would have given you to them; not for anything

(Tsu’tey x Reader)

Part 1 -> Next Chapter 

If you prefer to read on Ao3, you can find the fic here!

Summary: The RDA unknowingly revives a traitor through Project Phoenix. 

Word Count: 11,251

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

NOTE: The term 'Zaza' is a gender neutral way to address a parental figure.

Connecting to the Tree of Souls was always bittersweet for Tsu'tey.

Eywa was a kind mother. For a few short moments, he could be reunited with everyone he had previously lost. He could ask Eytukan for guidance on being Olo’eyktan, or speak with Sylwanin when his grief threatened to overwhelm him.

And other times, Eywa would gift him a glimpse into a vision that could’ve been his reality, if events had played out differently. 

The phantom of HomeTree was booming with life. Those who lived there were distant and concealed from view by the colossal roots of the great tree or simply occupying the foliage beyond its shade. Tsu’tey found himself sitting upon a log, his knife in hand which he was using to shape an arrow head.

A fire roared at his feet, meat cooking over the flames whilst the joyous yells of children darted to and fro behind his turned back. He couldn’t help but smile softly to himself, reminded of the early years in Spider’s development when the boy had finally grown large enough to comfortably fit into an exo pack. Tsu’tey had been delighted, eager to take his son from the confines of the demon compound and let him loose on the clan.

Spider took to the outside like an ikran to the sky. Staring in wonder as Tsu’tey carried him into the heart of the village. Na’vi of all stations had cooed at him, offering Tsu’tey honest congratulations even if their eyes had held poorly concealed hesitance at the toddler giggling against his chest. 

Within the hour, Spider had become fast friends with Jake’s children - Eywa help him - and was gleefully dirtying his loincloth as they tumbled and played. 

“He has grown significantly.” A voice to his left suddenly commented, ripping Tsu’tey from his private musings. He made to turn to whoever was sat with him, but some untold force kept his gaze glued to the arrowhead he was carving. 

“Children tend to.” Tsu’tey responded easily, the English falling thick and accented off of his tongue. 

His secret companion merely hummed, leaning into his side. Tsu’tey caught sight of blue skin in his peripheral. Five fingered hands falling to demon style clothed knees. His expression tightened. Confusion swirling beneath his skin.

“A mighty warrior in the making.” The stranger praised, undercurrents of pride lacing their tone. “I am glad his aim has greatly improved.”

Tsu’tey lifted his gaze from the arrowhead as the words registered. His questioning response was halted by the sudden absence of the clan chatter and the crackling of the flames at his feet. His eyes flickered, expressing softening as he realised the scenery had changed.

Now, he and his companion sat on a tree branch overlooking the Omaticaya flight range. Targets lined the far perimeter, whilst na’vi of all ages stood in uniformed rows at increasing distances from the targets, their bows drawn. Tsu’tey’s gaze immediately zeroed in on Spider.

Here he was about twelve, Neteyam alongside him as the two practised in companionable silence. Despite being a full year younger, Neteyam easily towered over the older boy, his frame lean and long, whilst Spider had grown strong and thick in the shoulders. His son held his bow with ease, the strain long having lessened with hours of practice.

The presence at his side had shrunk somehow. The warmth no longer reached his shoulder. A soft brush of skin to his lower bicep indicating that the na’vi who had sat with him had shrunk to a more human stature.

Tsu’tey could not place who this was. They did not sound like Grace Augustine who possessed both avatar and human forms on the off chance she visited him in the tree. Nor had he befriended any of the scientists who possessed avatar bodies.

A celebratory whoop drew his attention back to Spider, who was receiving awed high fives from Neteyam. Glancing to the target, Tsu’tey swelled with pride at the three perfect bullseyes. 

He blinked, and he was in the old shack. Although in his present the stolen compound was overrun with wildlife and had fallen into disrepair, here, it looked well preserved. As fresh and disorganised as it had been the night the humans left for good. 

It looked homely. 

Lived in. 

He was sitting on a bunk much too small for his large frame with a baby carrier strapped across his chest. His son was nowhere to be seen in this particular vision, but as always, he felt no sense of panic within Eywa’s care. He simply observed the small room around him, noting that the presence at his side had disappeared with the flight range.

The messy sheets he sat on told of a good night’s rest. The military boots neatly lined up by the door and the camouflage jacket hanging on the back of it, reassuring him that whoever he was visiting was close by. 

Tucked under the window, the desk was a mess of coffee stained reports and various pens. Even from the other side of the room, he could make out the shakily written na’vi phrases repeated over several pages. He’d never seen his language written out before, since his people had no use for it, but somehow he instinctively knew the phrases.

Oel ngati kameie.

I see you.

Three words his mate had been practising behind his back. A secret he was very much aware of, but content to allow them to figure out. 

The sound of the door opening drew his attention from the desk, and he found said mate looming in the doorway, their son cradled to their chest. They looked exhausted but proud of themselves. Spider was sound asleep, nestled into their tanktop, with one chubby fist clenched tightly around the courting necklace Tsu’tey had presented them with several moons ago. 

“I finally got him to drop off.” His mate sighed happily as they stepped further into the room and quietly pulled the door closed behind them.

Tsu’tey could only hum. Greedily drinking in the sight of his mate and son. Gazing at the face that had been snatched from his too early, and the youth and innocence of Spider. He was sixteen now, years past infancy, but still Tsu’tey’s little boy. Whilst his mate was frozen in time. Forever held by Eywa.

“You good big guy?” The use of that ridiculous nickname snapped him back to the present. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

His lips stretched into a tight smile. The irony. 

“I am fine.” He insisted. His english heavily accented and rusty from disuse. Since Spider had become fully fluent in na’vi, he hardly ever had to use the demon tongue. But somehow, Eywa always switched them back to that language, despite having learnt plenty of na’vi through him.

Their proud grin dropped a fraction, their eyebrows drawing together. “Are you lying to me?”

He scoffed. “Olo’eyktan’s do not lie.” He said simply.

“You aren’t Olo’eyktan here.” They argued. Approaching him on quiet feet. 

Feeling called out, Tsu’tey had to work hard to keep his ears from flicking back in guilt. Instead, he chose not to respond as his mate stepped into his space. Their scent wafted over him as they expertly manoeuvred the slumbering infant into the net tied across Tsu’tey’s chest. The motion was practised; familiar in a way his mate hadn’t had time to master.

Spider went easily. Instinctively curling into his father’s warmth and finding something new to latch onto. This time, Tsu’tey was not fast enough to keep his son from grabbing onto one of his braids. Even in sleep, Spider yanked hard on the braided lock of hair, making Tsu’tey wince. His mate chuckled softly, reaching up to carefully untangle Spider’s fist, to which the infant immediately curled his fingers around their index instead. 

The scene was domestic. Something he had mourned when his mate had passed.

“You look tired.” His mate stated, those eyes studying his expression. 

Tsu’tey could only nod. What use was lying to a memory anyway?

“I am.”

“You should rest.” 

They titled their head, and Tsu’tey knew this was a battle he had no hope of winning. “Spider is waiting for you.” They said.

Carefully, they raised their free hand to hold his cheek, their expression worried. He leaned into the touch, savouring the warmth of their tiny hand against his cool skin.

His words were slow to come back to him. But they waited patiently, idly tracing the stars of his freckles as he gathered himself, his breathing uneven. “No. I want to stay here, with you.” 

There was a power behind their words now. A greater knowledge they should not be privy to. Tsu’tey knew this wasn’t his mate speaking to him anymore. Despite looking and sounding like his human, this was Eywa gently nudging him. Reminding him that he had responsibilities to attend to and a son waiting beyond her realm.

He followed his mate’s nod towards the window where he found a sixteen year old Spider standing patiently at the treeline, looking longingly towards the compound. He knew without looking down that the infant was gone from the sling at his chest. His son wore his exopack and was wringing his hands, head darting too and fro in search of someone. Rocking on the balls of his feet as often did when unsettled.

Tearing his gaze from his son, Tsu’tey found and held eye contact with the Great Mother disguised as his lost mate. “Will you allow him to visit today?” He asked.

“He will See soon.” Eywa replied in their voice, untold power building behind every word. 

His mate’s hands were small but strong as they took him by the wrists and helped him rise from his seat on the bed. “He is waiting.” They informed him, gently guiding him away from the desk littered in papers and towards the closed door. Tsu’tey’s heart ached at the familiar gesture. This part was always the hardest.

“He misses them.” He told Eywa and she could only nod in acknowledgement. “He watches their video logs.” He insisted, stomach sinking at the thought of his mate not knowing how badly Spider loved and missed them. That they might believe they had faded from the child’s memory, when in truth they’d always played such a crucial role. “He asks about them, always. Demanding memories, facts. Anything.”

“He will See soon.” Eywa repeated, and Tsu’tey knew she understood. 

They squeezed his hand and he realised he was standing before the door with the boots neatly lined up beside it. He glanced at them one last time, absorbing all their little details and committing them to memory. His mate smiled at him one last time, before they dropped his hands and stepped back. 

“I know.”

“You will See soon.” Eywa assured him, but Tsu’tey was no Tsahik and did not understand how to interpret the phrase. So he simply nodded.

>_&lt;

They said no more as he raised his hand to push the door open, and in kind, Tsu’tey could only nod as his words got lost in his throat. Instead of responding, he turned and stepped out of the bedroom into the hall. 

The sounds of the forest came back to him slowly. He felt the change of the humidity as Eywa gently returned him to his body. He sat crossed legged under the glowing vines of the Tree of Souls, his heartbeat still pounding in time to the gentle pulses of the ancient tree. Animals moved in the bushes behind him, uncaring of his presence and content to go about their evening. 

He felt the familiar dry, flaky sensation of mourning paint running from the top of his brow down the line of his nose to his chin. His bullet scars felt stiff against his skin with every deep breath. Whilst a body leant into his side. Small and warm in a way that na’vi were not. 

Slowly, Tsu’tey peeled his eyelids open and glanced down to find Spider curled into him. His exopack was digging uncomfortably into Tsu’tey’s ribs, but he didn’t care. Now sixteen, his boy leaned into his side and had dragged Tsu’tey’s arm out of his lap to rest across his back. Keeping him safe and secure whilst his father communed with the ancestors. 

His tail swayed happily at the adorable sight. 

Sensing a shift in him, Spider groggily raised his head from Tsu’tey’s rib cage. His eyes were unfocused as he lifted his heavy head, only to find Tsu’tey already looking at him. He blinked slowly, drawing in a deep breath as he stretched and sat up. 

<”Who was it today?”> Spider asked in fluent na’vi, his tone heavy with sleep. 

Tsu’tey felt the corner of his mouth stretch upwards into an adoring smile. His boy was so precious. <”Zaza.”> He replied simply, to which Spider returned his smile. 

<”It is late.”> Spider agreed, to which Tsu’tey playfully ruffled his braids, ears pricked at the boy’s mischievous grin. Carefully, Tsu’tey reached up and disconnected his kuru from the tree, sending a prayer of thanks to Eywa for her gift.

<”And where did you end up going?”>

<”The old shack.”> Tsu’tey replied simply, reaching up to disconnect his tswin from the Tree of Souls. <”They were trying to convince you to go to bed.”>

<”We should return to the village.”> 

<”Only if you carry me.”> Spider stated, lifting his arms expectantly to Tsu’tey who rolled his eyes.

<”You have been hanging around Lo’ak too much. So whiny.”>

<”You are old enough to carry yourself.”>

<”But it’s late!”> Spider retaliated. 

<”Don’t let him hear you say that or he’ll become ten times worse.”> Considering the boy was Jake’s son, Tsu’tey didn’t doubt it. 

>_<

The last thing you remembered was lying down in a link unit. 

The smell of silicone had been poisonously strong in the tight space as one of the scientists closed the lid on you with a firm click. Your heart had been pounding, your plan to escape and meet up with Jake plaguing your mind. Distracting you from the half assed explanation of why Selfridge had ordered all military personnel into the link rooms.

You weren’t sure if you made it out of Hell’s Gate that night, let alone if Trudy had managed to drive you to the secret compound. If you’d been caught, or if your squad had noticed your absence. 

Not that any of it mattered now, considering you were in outer space and the Battle for The Tree of Souls had ended fifteen years prior. 

Now, you stared blankly at the pre-recorded video of yourself in that same laboratory. In the video, you were decked out in your usual, military attire and were horribly explaining what was going on. Floating in zero gravity, your hand - now blue and much, MUCH bigger than you were used to - kept you in place before the monitor with an unnervingly tight grip.

The you of the past wasn’t focused on their task. You could tell from the shift of their eyes as marines moved around them behind the camera. In a similar situation, your nerves were also all over the place. Your eyes were constantly darting around the small bunk room as your tail thrashed. So many enemies in such a small place.

It had been a fucking shock to wake up disoriented on a small hospital bed with a heart monitor beeping away in the background. Only for a massive, blue forehead to dart into your line of sight, dragging with it, a pair of large, unblinking eyes. You screamed, flailing weakly at the enormous bald head of Lyle Wainfleet.

You recalled blinding rage in your most recent memory of this man.

He had grinned at you, yelling loudly, “morning Private!” 

You had punched him, that past anger carrying over as you shoved him away with an additional well placed kick to the stomach and a ferocious hiss. Movement in the corner of your vision kept you from following him down, intending to choke the life out of his stupid, grinning face.

Alexander had been quick to grip your bicep, holding on tightly. He was smiling at you. And it was fucking disorientating to see his face on a na’vi body, his eyes too far apart and his nose flatter than you were used to. It stunned you into stillness.

On the floor, Lyle had chuckled good naturedly and complimented you on your improved strength. 

You hadn’t responded, your eyes widening as you took in your reflection in the one way window. It was you, but it also wasn’t you staring back. 

On the monitor, the human version of you scratched the back of their neck, clearly reading off of a script to the side of the camera, blurting some bullshit about the RDA storing your memories and implanting them in an avatar embryo. Your expression remained neutral as you glanced down to past-you’s throat. 

Mostly hidden beneath the hem of their camouflage shirt, you caught sight of a pretty little choker, the polished beads catching the laboratory lights. It was simple in design, layered three times tall with long, brown beads as the centrepiece, framed either side by carefully selected circular red beads.

Subconsciously, your blue hand reached to your own throat, frowning at the naked skin only for your fingers to catch on the metal chain of your dog tag. It sent a stab of phantom pain through your chest, which you were quick to rub away.

You remembered who had given it to you. What he had been to you. But you didn’t know how it had ended. If the RDA had resurrected you for this stupid little project, then chances were, the human version of you was dead. 

You had no idea who had died during the Battle of The Tree of Souls - clearly a lot of you judging by the number of recoms the RDA had paid for. There was no solid knowledge on how far the RDA had won, or how much of Pandora they had destroyed. For all you knew, everyone could be dead. The Omaticaya clan wiped off the face of the planet. 

The windows of your little bunk room overlooked the vast embryo tanks of the recoms. As you half-listened to the video, you watched a trio of three scientists carefully extracting the body, of who you recognised to be the na’vi version of Mansk, from the closest tank. They took great care in cleaning the embryonic fluid from his airways before flying the body out of sight through an open door. 

/Remember Private,/ the video stated, drawing your attention back once more, /the mission is not over./ There was something unreadable in human you’s eyes, their rage momentarily broadcasted across the screen. /Fight hard. Make me proud./ 

They couldn’t see you, but you found yourself nodding anyway. 

Those words gave you a direction. Past you didn’t believe the fight was over, so you just had to pick up where you left off. And to do that, you needed to get back into the forest.

>_<

The RDA had made special uniforms for all the recoms and required you to be dressed and ready to move into the base upon landing. Their first mistake was willingly handling you a gun. Evidently, they had never recognised you as a traitor. You’d died with them still believing you were loyal. Now, you would exploit that weakness.

For now, you decided to play nice until they willingly unleashed you into the forest. You made jokes with Lyle, established yourself as one of the team. Laughing with the other recoms about escaping death, making wild accusations about what you’d do the next time you saw that traitor; Jake Sully. 

It was easy. As it always had been. 

As if nothing had changed. Like you were back in school and you’d all come back from the summer having had growth spurts and been up to god knows what.

As a squad, you fitted together effortlessly. Falling into a routine of sleeping in the dorms, getting up early for drills and training, only to spend the evenings goofing around. The recom bodies were years younger, practically brand new, so the energy required for such shenanigans was effortless. 

Within a week, it felt like nothing had changed. The squad was blissfully unaware of what you had done in your past life behind their backs. To them, you were still their comrade. 

Initially, you’d attempted to keep your distance.

The forest called to you. It’s pull even stronger now with the additional na’vi instincts, and the small hallways of Bridgehead that were clearly not built with you in mind. You felt out of place in its tiny, box-like layout. 

Your comrades weren’t too sneaky in trying to ease your nerves and welcome you into their chaotic escapades. 

Lyle had always been an overbearing extrovert, chomping at the bit to challenge you into pushing yourself harder and harder during drills. 

Mansk, in his own quiet way, insisted on dragging you to the kitchen every mealtime to assist him with cooking. He stated that he had no idea what to do with the new Pandoran ingredients required for their recom bodies, but you could tell he was bullshitting you to keep you out of your head. It worked; mostly. 

Whilst Z-Dog had taken it upon herself to make sure your shooting skills were up to scratch - they were. And had sparked many competitions out in the shooting range.

Even the colonel seemed to have caught on. And that man was in no form of the imagination a family man. He was a leader. Your boss. The man you had to impress or risk getting killed. But recently, he’s been acting like some weird version of a father figure. Offering silent nods and backhanded compliments in his usual condescending tone whilst observing your training with your comrades. It would always be paired with a playful smack to the shoulder or a rough ruffle of your hair whilst the squad sniggered.

It was easy to remember why you’d stuck with them for so long. Because despite their missions and the people they killed, they had been your family on Pandora since you’d woken up from cryo sleep. A reluctant one. A ragtag bunch of trigger happy idiots, but they’d always watched out for you.

You also knew that they would kill you if they ever found out about your little personal mission. They made you feel safe within Bridgehead, but you knew they would turn on you instantly. 

Lyle wouldn’t hesitate to cuff you and drag you to the colonel. Whilst Quaritch would go real quiet, ordering you to hand over your gun which he would use to shoot you on the spot. Z-Dog would make it look like an accident, whilst Mansk would hide behind his sunglasses and deal with business himself, stealing your dog tags to take back to the colonel.

It was imperative you remained vigilant. If anyone remembered or found out, you were fucked. So you had to get out. Fast. At the first opportunity. You could figure it out from there.

>_<

The moment the samson chopper landed in the undergrowth of the rainforest, you leapt out. Lyle was hot on your tail, peeling away from your side to secure the perimeter as the helicopter finished landing. 

You didn’t bother pretending to be scoping the landscape. 

The hum of the forest had grown steadily stronger throughout the trip, and now it slid through you like a melody. Calling to you more strongly than you’d ever felt. You took in greedy lungfuls of the damp, humid forest air. The scents of dew and vegetation invaded your nose, a world away from the canned air the recoms were forced to breathe in Bridgehead. Your ears swivelled towards every little sound, tail swaying to show content despite the mission ahead. Pandora was as gorgeous as she had ever been. The dappled sunlight peeking through the trees as the exotic fragrance of the plants filled the air. 

As a human, it had never been this pretty. Behind an exo pack, you had never been able to smell the world, whilst the sights had been smudged by the acrylic screen. 

This was freeing on an entirely new level.

Someone smacked you upside the head, abruptly shattering the nostalgia of finally returning to the forest. You choked, spinning in place and immediately stood to attention under the Colonel’s unimpressed glare. “What are you playing at Private?” He barked.

You could see the rest of the squad pretending not to look your way. Z-Dog and Walker had promptly turned their backs, clinging to each other as if it was the funniest thing in existence. 

“Apologies sir, I got excited.” You replied sheepishly. "Needed to stretch my legs."

“Focus!” Quaritch stressed with an eye roll. 

“Yes, sir.”

He nodded once before motioning to the others and leading the way into the undergrowth. 

You fell into line, gun aimed on your surroundings as the squad moved further and further away from base. 

Within the hour, the squad stumbled upon a broken AMP suit collapsed in front of an abandoned compound. The building looked like one of the remote link compounds the scientists used to use during avatar exertions. What it was doing so far away from its assigned location, you had no idea.

Quaritch immediately issued orders for the site to be secured. Whilst Z-Dog investigated the building, the rest of the squad fanned out into the clearing. Half went to search the undergrowth, whilst you remained nearby, eyes more focused on the compound than the forest.

The colonel and Wainfleet remained close to the AMP suit, quietly analysing the corpse impaled within the ribcage of the dismantled robot. 

You swept close on your return pass, ears pricked as Quaritch glared daggers at the skull. Peering over his shoulder, your eyes widened at the pair of na'vi arrows jutting out of moss covered bone and the scar of a viperwolf scratch carved into the skull.

Quaritch's corpse.

And whoever had got him had been merciless in finishing him off.

The sight made you uneasy. Reminding you of the threats Pandora possessed. You were glad when a shout from the forest and the call for backup drew you from the suit.

No one knew how long the kids had been there. Whether they’d gotten curious and followed from the moment the samson touched down, or if they had been lingering around the shack. Either way, the petrified scream of the youngest girl had drawn the rest of your squad to the scene. 

There were three na’vi kids in total, and one human child. All held hostage by a recom, whilst Quaritch interrogated each of them. You watched the scene from the sidelines, assuming Quaritch would decide they weren’t worth it and let them go. 

But when the na’vi boy swore at him and Quaritch grinned with a simple, ”you’re his.”

Jake’s, you realised. 

Your heart began to pound as you rounded the rear of the group, eyes narrowed as you took in the side profile of the boy. His too small eyes, the slope of his jaw, the fifth finger on each hand. At a glance, a full blooded na’vi. But you’d been around avatars long enough to pick out the little imperfections. The broader set to his shoulders, the lower position of his kuru that indicated human blood somewhere in the line. 

Quaritch was precise in his motions. Taking the kid’s kuru in hand to begin interrogating him. The colonel was rough with him. Spitting sharp commands before yanking his knife from his thigh strap. The boy’s eyes widened a fraction. You saw the raw fear swimming within them as he stared blankly up at the snarling colonel. Refusing to back down. Refusing to waver. 

Quaritch’s expression tightened as he raised the knife a fraction. Logically, you knew the first strike would be a fake, to scare the boy into spilling information with minimal effort. You were lurching forward half a step, ears fanning wide in alarm before you could stop yourself. 

The motion of that knife froze mid air, a testament to the Colonel’s reflexes as his burning eyes flickered to you. You made an effort to smooth out your microexpressions, hands limp at your side instead of reaching for a weapon like you so desperately wanted to. Something in the kid’s face had made something tight and protective flare up between your ribs, and the Colonel had noticed. 

Quaritch’s gaze was stern as shook his head in disappointment. “Don’t go getting soft on me, Private.” He reminded, grasp shifting on the kid’s kuru. “I know you had a soft spot for them back in the day, but none of that bullshit now.”

“Sorry sir.” You grit out, but didn’t retreat. He glared at you, you maintained steady eye contact until Wainfleet pulled Quaritch’s attention to the older na’vi girl. He had her fingers splayed for the colonel to see, chuckling at her five fingers. 

Their conversation quickly dissolved into the back of your mind as Quaritch handed the na’vi boy off, putting blessed distance between the kid and his knife. 

Tracking the Colonel’s movements as he approached the older girl, you found your attention drawn by the human boy. You blinked at his intense gaze, at the storm of unexplainable emotions swimming behind his eyes that you felt dizzy just looking at him. Despite his face being locked away behind an exopack, his gaze was no less piercing. He seemed to see you. 

The squint of his eyebrows seemed to suggest he saw you. Not a soldier. Not a recom. Just you. As if he could see beneath the scientifically created body to the memory chip beneath, to what remained of your soul.

But that was probably just you projecting.

To distract yourself from the tightening of your chest, you also studied him as your comrades kept interrogating the children. Their voices grew distant as you inspected the blue stripes painted across tanned skin. The traditional Omaticayan weaving style of his armband as well as the songcord attached to the hem of his loincloth. 

Your eyes caught on the necklace at his throat. A style that matched the one your human body wore in the video. Down to the brown and red beads. The familiar weaving style. Even at this distance, you recognised Tsu’tey’s handiwork. 

And whilst it reassured and relieved you that he was still alive, that somehow, in some way, this child had a piece of him, you were confused. How had he gotten his hands on one of Tsu’tey’s pieces?

Then he steeled himself. Quaritch’s bulk warmed your back, his shadow falling over your left arm. In a shockingly gentle tone, Quaritch asked for the boy’s name, and surprisingly, he gave it.

”Spider Socorro.” He blurted in strained english. 

Your ear flickered back at the colonel’s sharp inhale. “Miles?” 

Spider straightened, chin lifted in defiance. “Nobody calls me that.”

Quaritch’s expression was unreadable. He didn’t bother to respond and stepped away to talk into his neck piece. He didn’t go far and simply turned his back, speaking to Ardmore as the squad shifted uneasily. 

The kids hissed as the recoms began moving them towards the compound where the shuttle would more easily be able to let down the ropes. Your stomach tightened at the thought of dragging them back with you. To know how they felt and be unable to offer sympathy.

Quaritch motioned to the children. ”Keep hold of ‘em. Shuttle will be here in ten.”

Your stomach dropped. Not the shuttle. Not yet. You couldn’t stomach the idea of going back to Bridgehead after this. After such a short taste of freedom. 

”Colonel.” You said loudly, making the man pause midstep. He levelled you with an unreadable look as you struggled to find your voice. “These kids are useless to us.”

As soon as the words left your lips, his expression visibly shut off and you knew you would not be able to get through to him. “I’m not gonna repeat myself, Private.” He snapped, pulling rank to put you in your place. You squared up to him. Chin lifted.

A distant bird call had your ears pricking. It was short. A burst of a sound. It had the kids straightening, all their ears fanning towards the sound. 

The bird called again. That one note echoing through the trees.

Shifting uneasily, your eyes followed the direction it had come from, momentarily breaking eye contact. Quaritch smirked as if he’d won a great battle. “Take the na’vi boy.” He ordered, motioning to the kid who was promptly handed over, and then raised his voice to the squad. “Into defensive positions!”

The group fell into formation as the sun began its nightly cycle behind the moon, bringing with it a rain storm. The boy’s neural whip between your fingers quickly grew saturated, making your weak grip slip with every sharp movement he would make. That bird call did not grow distant or stop. In fact, you could’ve sworn it was getting closer.

There was a moment of stillness. The forest holding its breath as the recoms kept whispering to each other, kept moving noisily through the undergrowth. Blind to the silent warning. 

You held your breath, going unnaturally still as the boy in front of you did the same.

There was a cut off shout. An explosion of movement near the main body of the group.

Keeping your position, your head snapped towards the sound. Mouth going dry at the na’vi arrow protruding from Fike’s skull. It had embedded itself into his eye socket, almost straight through.

Whatever was making that sound had clearly found the squad. And it wasn’t pleased.

As the group erupted into chaos, you saw your chance. Loosening your grip on the kid’s kuru, you slowly stepped back, praying the steady movements would not draw that hunter’s eye to your form. The kid spun to face you, wrists bound, looking wide eyed and terrified. 

You raised your hands in surrender, head dipping. <”Get out of here.”> You hissed, nodding to the trees. 

His ears fanned wide as a satellite. Momentarily frozen in time. Eyes studying your own for the trick.

A gun went off at his back, snapping him out of it. More arrows were fired and more recoms died. 

He turned his back to you, and with a burst of speed began shepherding his little sister towards the treeline. The girl went easily, grabbing at his bound wrists and dragging him away. 

You kept your attention on their backs, hand hanging close to your gun in case someone turned their attention on you. 

The recoms were dying in disorganised clusters. The smart ones like Wainfleet and Z-Dog had already taken cover behind trees as the onslaught of arrows threw everyone else out of formation, causing them to scramble for cover. It gave you a sick sense of satisfaction. 

A shout drew your attention. 

Walker had the older girl by her kuru after she’d tried to make a break for it with Spider. She struggled as she yanked her back, her gun useless in her focus on keeping hold of her. 

Your gaze narrowed. Your rifle was in your hands before you could think to check if anyone was looking. The trigger was smooth under your finger. And with a light squeeze the machine roared to life and shot a hole through the tree to her left. 

Walker shrieked, hand spasming in fear as she instinctively let go of the girl’s neural whip. Spider was quick to grab her arm and run away, whilst an arrow found its mark in the recom’s chest. She collapsed in a heap. Dead on impact.

You grimaced. 

The rain muffled your footsteps as you carefully retreated into the shadows of the trees. Thankfully, the squad was too preoccupied to notice your silent escape. 

You felt like a traitor for withdrawing into the forest quietly. Which was funny considering that’s what you were. Your ears were pricked and your body low. Eywa must have wanted you to succeed because no arrow pierced your back. 

The screaming from the small clearing had begun to die down now, but was quickly replaced by the sound of a machine gun going off. Definitely Mansk’s hand, he had always been quick to react in any situation. You quickened your pace, knowing the distance those things could reach. 

The aim was to get as much distance between you and the squad as possible. Then, you’d tear off any and all equipment that would hinder your survival out in the forest until you stumbled across a clan and could ask for uturu. The word and its meaning came to you from a distant memory. A simpler time when Grace had been ranting about some new discovery she’d observed out in the field whilst you’d simply been trying to microwave your dinner. 

One of the explosions went off a little too close to you. Making your pace falter as your head snapped up to watch the branches above burst into flames. You squinted as a figure got thrown clean off by the blast. They seemed to collide with every branch and bush in existence on the way down, screaming the whole way.

<”SPIDER!”> Yelled the older girl from before, appearing over the lip of the branch but not daring to jump after him.

Instinctively, you leapt forward, gun falling back on its strap as your arms came up to catch the falling kid. He crashed into your embrace with a punched out wheeze. Blood oozed from many cuts, whilst his back was warm to the touch, not burnt, but still caught by the flames. 

Another explosion went off, spurring you back into motion. You tried to set the kid down, but he groaned painfully, clutching at your bullet proof vest as his legs failed to hold his weight. 

“Shit.” You cursed under your breath. Glancing back to the branch, you realised the girl was still there. Still watching your every move. And still way too close to Quaritch and his squad. To the inbound airship. 

Shifting the kid so he was supported by one of your arms against your body, you strained to relieve your feet of the heavy duty avatar boots. The laces were slippery from the rain, slithering out of your grasp and making you growl lowly to yourself. It felt like hours, but it could’ve only been seconds before you were barefoot, your shoes and socks discarded in the undergrowth. 

”Hold on tight!” You instructed the kid, who dutifully wound his shaking legs around your ribcage and hooked his arms around your neck. You supported his back with one arm whilst you scrambled to begin climbing back up the hill he’d just tumbled down.

The soil was loose from the rain. The bushes offering no firm support due to your weight, their roots easily giving way if you dared hold onto them for support. 

You hadn’t climbed anything in this body yet. With the base possessing stairs, and your memories of climbing trees locked away in a past life, there was no real need to. And yet, it came easily to this body. As if it had been born to scale the trees of the Pandoran rainforest despite being grown by aliens in a test tube. 

The girl was quick to grab the back of your bullet proof vest once you were high enough. Heaving you up onto the branch with her whole body thrown back. Curling your toes into the uneven bark, you swayed in place, tail compensating for your shit balance. ”We need to move.” You insisted, once again readjusting your grip on the shivering child in your arms.

She nodded dutifully. ”This way.” You kept a hand on her bicep to steady her as she took off down the branch, leading you away from the gunfire. 

With practised ease, she reached the end of the branch and smoothly dropped to the forest floor before scrambling away. You were slower in following, your body protesting the intense movements before your knees groaned at the sloppy landing. To his credit, Spider didn’t complain as the jerky ride, his eyes half closed behind his mask. 

You pushed through the bushes to find the three na’vi kids waiting by some ikran. Eying the beasts wearily, you slowed your pace, listening to the older girl reassure her siblings with soft words at your approach.

You needed to be quick. The owner of those arrows would be returning for their kids soon. And whether or not it was Jake, they’re bound to kill you on sight without checking your face.

”He’s wounded. You must get him to the Tsahik quickly.” You explained as you approached, dropping into a crouch to set Spider down gently at the kids’ feet. He protested again, putting up a valiant fight to keep a hold of you, but you were stronger than him. Your touch was firm as you removed his limbs from you and sat him down.

Kiri was quick to drop to his level, frowning hard at his bloodied appearance. Feeling sorry for the wounded kid, you dared to take a couple of extra seconds pulling out a knife from your belt to cut him free.

He pouted as he rubbed the circulation back into his wrists. Those piercing eyes darting all over your face.

You turned to leave, but the youngest kid was quick to waddle up to your side, her bound wrists extended. ”Can you cut me loose too?”

”I /really/ need to go.” You reply softly, before cutting her loose anyway.

You shifted back, only for the older pair to immediately extend their arms expectantly. You audibly groaned, before reaching for the boy since he was closest. 

”Zaza?” Spider croaked, making your brows furrowed at the odd word. Around you, the older kids had gone unnaturally still. <”Is that you?”>

”Zaza?” You repeated, finding the word felt odd on your tongue. It sparked a distant memory, of a late night sprawled on a bunk with someone beside you. Someone tall and distracted. The memory brought with it a sense of dread; a distant threat. You discarded that train of thought before it could distract you for too long.

<”It can’t be.”> The na’vi girl commented, and now it was her turn to begin studying you. 

”I don’t know what that means.” You pleaded, hands frozen in time, the knife still poised. A headache was beginning to form between your eyes, and your stress levels were incredibly high, but no one was giving you a straight answer. All you knew for certain was that you didn’t recognise this boy, and yet, he looked at you as if he knew you. 

<”Holy shit.”> Was all Spider replied with, slumping against the forest floor. 

<”No way.”> The na’vi boy agreed with a laugh. He was grinning hard, ears perked. 

His younger sister looked as confused as you felt. Whilst the older girl was inspecting you in a way similar to how Grace used to look at something that deeply fascinated her.

Out of nowhere a large, calloused hand wrapped around your shoulder, yanking you back and away from the kids. The hand moved with the momentum, throwing you off balance to land hard on your back. You gasped loudly, your knife flying away into the bushes. The kids were already yelling as you struggled to gather your bearings.

The barrel of an old model RDA rifle came into focus, inches from your face, making you gulp loudly. Following the line of the weapon, your gaze travelled up a blue arm to a scowling face that you hadn’t seen in decades.

<”JAKE DON’T!”> Spider yelled. Despite the frantic edge in his voice, he remained unmoving. His eyes as large as the moon as he stared unblinkingly up at the na’vi’s turned back. 

<”DAD! NO!”> The oldest girl shrieked, clumsily shoving her bound hands into the na’vi’s stomach, her eyes wide and pleading. 

The boy was quick to jump to your defence. <”They helped us escape Dad- SIR! Don’t!”> 

<”DADDY!”> The youngest shrieked, joining in at her older siblings’ reactions. She promptly latched herself onto his leg, clingy tightly and making his strong stance waver. If you weren’t seconds from dying - again - it would’ve been a comically domestic scene. 

You shifted your gaze back to the man in question. Jake looked different. He was older now. Tired. Blue. Very fucking blue. His expression was aged, his hair in dreadlocks. You barely recognised him. 

Movement over his shoulder brought your gaze to yet another kid. Older than the others, he shared the same hard expression as his father, an arrow notched and reading in his bow. Clearly, there was no chance of escape. If Jake missed you by some miracle, that boy would finish the job for him. 

Jake hadn’t lowered his gun. He was still studying you, blatantly ignoring his kids as his narrowed eyes swept over the planes of your face. The weight of the stare was heavy as his frown deepened. 

Somehow, you managed to unstick your tongue from the roof of your mouth, terrified but fucking estatic that he was alive. ”Long time no see, marine.”

No reaction. The gun didn’t lower. His expression didn’t change. Remaining cold and closed off. 

Your smile faltered as you realise he probably didn’t recognise you. You expected the gun to be shoved back against you, for a bullet to shoot through your body and for you to die again. 

Nothing happened. 

Then something seems to click. ”Impossible.” Is all Jake said, and he lowered his weapon. The kids collectively breathed out and moved out of his way. 

His brow was furrowed now as he dropped into a crouch. Jake loomed over you, his shadow blocking out the moon as his arm shot forward to grab at the front of your bullet proof vest to yank it down. You jerked, instinctively growling at him as his large hand grabbed your dog tag chain and pulled it out of hiding. The chain pulled taught as he dragged you in by the neck, in turn, Jake stooped lower, eyes squinting to read the printed metal in the pathetic light of the forest. 

He sucked in a breath. <”What kind of sick-”> He cut himself off with a swear, dropping the tag like it had burned him. His eyes shone with a dense swirl of emotion when he caught your gaze again, his voice punching out of him in a yell. ”You should be dead!”

Your expression furrowed. ”Sorry to disappoint?”

He cursed again. <”Kids, get to the ikran. Your mother should be waiting for you.”> None of them moved. Jake growled. <”Did you hear?”>

You could make a break for it right now. Roll onto your stomach and dart off into the forest whilst he was preoccupied. The boy with the bow had loosened his arrow when Jake had dropped the gun from your face. But there was no guarantee he wouldn’t put a bullet between your shoulders for your hard work. 

In another life, you had been friends; comrades. But now, he was a stranger. And you were decked out in enemy gear. 

The heat of the jungle was getting to you now. Causing sweat to bead on your brow and moisture to collect under the heavy, bullet proof vest clutching tight to every movement of your torso. The military grade trousers clung uncomfortably to your legs, your boots long gone but your feet weak and vulnerable against the rough terrain of the jungle floor. 

In contrast, Jake was in his element. Adorned in traditional Omaticayan attire and walking around barefoot without an issue. 

<i>Private!</i> Quaritch’s calm voice over the com sent chills down your spine, making you stiffen. <i>Private! Do you read me?</i>

You dared not respond. Jake was still studying you. Those unnatural glowing eyes pinning you in place.

<i>Y/n! Dude, you alive!</i> Lyle’s loud voice had you wincing. Jake’s head snapped down at the sound, ears fanning wide as Lyle kept trying to coax you into responding. Making your insides twist tighter and tighter. 

You’d been hoping for a clean break that would spare your conscience. They weren’t supposed to have noticed your absence yet. 

Fuck, Quaritch was gonna kill you for getting cornered by Jake. That is if Jake didn’t kill you first.

You were so caught up in your musing that you didn’t notice the man in question had moved, until a hand clamped hard around your queue, snapping your head back from the harsh yank. The sound you let out could never have been produced by a human. It echoed through the trees, making your ears flatten.

Jake paid you no mind as he harshly dragged you to your feet. 

”Jake!” Spider yelled at him, eyes hardened. 

The marine waved him off as you struggled to comply, your balance all thrown off and mud clinging to your ass and back. His movements were sharp, making you gasp. In one swift motion, he dug his finger under your earpiece and tossed it away into the undergrowth. 

”Jesus, you’ve gotten cranky in your old age.” You complained, struggling to relieve the pressure on your kuru.

Jake let out a surprised burst of air that could’ve been a laugh. ”Glad to see whatever they’ve done to you hasn’t dimmed your humour, Private.”

”Fuck off with that military shit.”

He kicked at your calf, tripping you into walking faster. Snapping your teeth at him, you followed the sound of the kids retreating into the undergrowth. Jake’s grip was painful on your kuru, but he was no longer using it to guide you along like a misbehaving horse, so you would take it.

”You started it.” He blurted in that typical knee jerk reaction of his. You huffed at the familiarity of it. ”Now start walking.”

”You’re not seriously considering taking me with you? Are you?” He didn’t respond and you let out a bark of laughter. ”You’re being an idiot.”

“I’m sparing your life.” Jake replied sharply. ”Usually, people are grateful.”

You saw the ikran first. They weren’t as big as you remembered, but still scared the shit out of you. 

<”Ma Jake, what are you doing? Kill-”> Neytiri hissed from beside her mount. The youngest girl cradled to her chest. The woman stepped away from her ikran’s side, bow slung over her shoulder and her expression thunderous.

Jake pulled you up short, startling a second shout of pain from you. ”Dude! Ease up. Come on!”

Neytiri suddenly appearing in front of you had you stiffening. Her gaze pierced through you, studying your face with a hunter’s precision. She recognised you much faster than her mate.

“Would you quit whining?”

”You’re being an asshole!” 

You could only watch dumbly as her eyes widened, mouth dropping open whilst her ears fanned wide as the membrane of a frilled lizard. The hand not cradling her daughter flew to her mouth as that expression morphed into one of fiery rage. 

”What did they /DO/ to you?” She shrieked, the sheer grief in her tone making you flinch. Her breath stuttered, glancing at Jake before finding your pained expression again. “Eywa took you home.” She sounded like she was trying to convince herself of that fact. 

The kids shuffled on your peripheral. Unsettled by their mother’s blatant grief. Neytiri drew your attention back.

”How is it that you stand before me now?!”

Her cry echoes through the trees, bouncing back to your bent ears with the same gut wrenching emotion as they had had leaving her mouth. You stared blankly at your friend, feeling all sense of hope and joy at being found drain away.

She was looking at you like you were a ghost or some kind of illusion. Waiting for you to evaporate or cease to exist at any moment. 

Your presence had unknowingly opened an old, festering wound that had barely healed the first time.

This wasn’t the reunion you’d been expecting. This wasn’t the open arms and tears you’d been praying for whilst you planned your escape. This was everything you didn’t want. 

“I’m sorry..”

>_<

Jake’s grip was unforgiving as he hauled you off of his ikran at High Camp. Your arms strained against the vines they’d used to bind your wrists, fingers failing to keep you on your feet as he forcefully yanked you down off of his ikran and onto the uneven cliff edge. One hand still grasped your kuru, whilst the other bit imprints into your bicep. 

They’d stripped you of your gear before wrestling you onto a banshee.

Now, your weapons, bullet proof vest and any form of communication with the RDA lay soaked in rainwater somewhere in the forest. You didn’t mourn the loss of the devices, since the RDA could no longer track you without them. But you did miss the false protection of the knife and the warmth of the vest against the frigid mountain air.

Goosebumps erupted up your forearms as you were dragged further into the heart of the camp. Tents had been erected inside the cave system, made homely by the cooking fires within and the decorative rugs lining the cold, stone floors.

You glimpsed a compound on one of the rocky rises. The shining metal stood out like a sore thumb against the wooden structures of the tents and the warm glow of the fires.

Jake kept you walking, guiding you through the gathering throng of clan members. Some you recognised, many you didn’t. They all stared at you the same. With pinned back ears and judgemental eyes. 

It was a relief when you were shoved between the flaps of the largest tent so far. The atmosphere was tense inside, with a fire burning low in the centre and various belongings stacked up against the walls. Herbs dried where they hung from the ceiling, whilst a hammock hung suspended against the back wall where two figures crouched over a map.

Your heart leapt into your throat. The rest of the clan and Jake’s unforgiving grip on you fell away as your eyes widened. 

The years had been kind to Mo’at. She still wore her red beaded shawl, but had updated her headpiece and decorative necklaces, one of which appeared to have been made by a child. Her intelligent eyes snapped towards you in the small space, the weight of the years portrayed in the heavy crow’s feet and bags pulling at her cheeks. That expression did not change as she studied you. 

Tsu’tey shifted at her elbow, looking as handsome as he always had. White paint ran down the line of his nose, from forehead to chin, standing out brightly against the soft blue of his skin. He carried himself with an undeniable sense of authority, chin lifted as that razor sharp glare cut you down to your very core. He no longer wore the necklace that had matched the choker your human body wore, but the rest of him had not changed. He studied you wordlessly, his lips dragged down into a frown as if he’d already analysed all he needed to know. 

Your eyes caught on the bullet scars that adorned his left shoulder. They were old, faded with time but obvious. Your stomach tensed at the thought of what he had been through in your absence. 

Wordlessly, you watched as Spider - who had slipped in behind you - skirted the fire and walked straight for Tsu’tey. “Dad.” The boy breathed, barely loud enough for you to hear. The hunter immediately opened his arms for the boy to fall into, his tail swaying anxiously as he whispered inaudibly to the young boy. Spider finally lost the tension in his body, whilst your stomach clenched painfully. You hated to imagine what their closeness meant. 

Neytiri burst into the tent behind you, making your ears shoot up and your body jerk. She paid you no mind, kicking at the back of your knee to force you to kneel. You gasped as Jake’s grip left you and Neytiri took his place. Her nails digging crescent moons into your scalp as she grasped the back of your neck with unforgiving tightness.

<”Daughter, what brings you here with such rage in your eye?”> Mo’at asked carefully. Her familiar voice sounded so calm, so familiar. You squeezed your eyes shut at the sudden weight behind them. 

<”The Sky People have found a new low.”> Neytiri declared loudly to the silent tent. Mo’at hummed. 

Somewhere behind the canvas of the tent wall, you heard small feet shift. Glancing to the side, you saw a tiny eye peering up at you from the gap between the material and the floor. Those unnaturally large eyes bore into your soul, making your tail thrash with nerves.

Neytiri’s fingers turned into claws in your hair, snapping your attention back to the situation at hand as she grasped a fistful of hair and yanked. <”They have begun to resurrect the dead.”> Your head snapped up from the motion, causing your neck to crack and warm pain to deep down your spine. Your mouth opened wide with an involuntary, pained gasp.

Mo’at didn’t move. 

Tsu’tey was scowling hard at her side, Spider wincing in sympathy at your treatment. Two sides of one coin. An odd pairing in appearance, but even in the short time you’d seen them together, you knew there was a bond there. Probably years old.  

With the crack in her daughter’s voice, Mo’at rose from her seat. On silent footsteps, she rounded the fire. ”What are you called?” 

You could tell that who you were still hadn’t clicked into place for Tsu’tey from the way that his ears flickered in uncertainty. Still looking confused, he composed himself, sitting back on his hunches to look at Neytiri. <”What is the meaning of this? Why have you brought this puppet to High Camp.”>

<”It protected the children.”> Neytiri returned easily. Making it sound like you were a pissed off thanator that had by some miracle, spared her offspring. <”It recognised us.”>

”Neytiri-”

<”You do NOT speak here.”>

Your name sat frozen on your tongue. The reactions of your previous two friends made you not want to reveal yourself. Neytiri shook you painfully by the kuru, letting out a warning hiss.

You spoke your name, eternally grateful that Mo’at’s towering form blocked Tsu’tey from view. 

More humming from Mo’at as she reached for the tiny blade concealed within the sheath of her head dress. You eyed her wearily, held still by Neytiri’s hand in your hair as she pricked your shoulder. She pulled the bloodied blade back, tasting the drop of blood. 

Her ears pricked at the taste, staring at you with a newfound revelation. ”It is you.” She confirmed, and something seemed to unwind in both Jake and Neytiri. ”But altered. You are not as the Great Mother intended.”

She motioned to her daughter, expression pinched. Neytiri tried to protest, but at her mother’s stern glare, her hands retreated from you. Your posture immediately slumped, relieved tingles echoing across your scalp and down your back.

”Explain.” Mo’at boomed, commanding your attention once more.

That finally got a reaction from the hunter still crouching over the map. 

”The Sky People grew this body as they grew the avatars.” She nodded along to the simple explanation, sharing glances with Tsu’tey over her shoulder. You swallowed. ”They uploaded my memories into it. This body is me.”

Jake sidestepped, putting himself back into your line of sight. ”So you aren’t linked up?” There was something unreadable in his eyes. You almost mistook it for hope.

You shook your head. That body was long gone. ”This is my body now.”

Spider had sat down on the mat beside him by now, and shifted uncertainly as the man wordlessly rose from his couch with the authority of a king rising from his throne. Mo’at stepped aside as he took slow, menacing steps towards you. Swallowing hard, you dared to meet his burning gaze highlighted by the soft white paint. The vibrant grief and rage swirling within those gorgeous depths was startling to behold.  

His hand went to the knife at his waist, wrestling it free with the practised song of the blade against its bone sheath. Your fight or flight threatened to kick in as you recognised the same hunter’s stalk he had performed the morning Neytiri and Jake had officially mated. 

<”Olo’eyktan?”> Mo’at asked, eying him wearily. 

He ignored her, storming past her fast enough to have her braids dancing. That gaze was narrowed; honed in on prey. 

His arm drew back. 

Your eyes widened. 

With a yell, he took a swift swipe at your head which you barely managed to dive out of the way of.

<”DAD NO!”> Spider yelled from across the tent. He was on his feet in minutes, scrambling forward, only for Mo’at to hold him back with her arm.

Neytiri tutted at the poorly aimed blow, her tail thrashing on your peripheral as you cowered in the dirt, your arms still bound and braced against stone. Vulnerable skin tore on uneven rock as you scrambled away, kicking yourself for turning your back, but knowing distance was more important.

At least Jake seemed to have your back.

<”Tsu’tey, what are you doing?”> The marine asked, immediately jumping in to stop him from striking again as you scrambled to get your feet under you. With your hands bound, it was a struggle. Your tail thrashed, attempting to aid your balance as you scrambled away.

Tsu’tey was like a man possessed, shoving Jake off balance and making another stab at you. His ears were flat on either side of his head, eyes wild and manic. You’d never seen him so pissed. And certainly not so quiet whilst being so angry. It was somehow more terrifying than if he were screaming at you. 

Jake scrambled to stay on his feet, his arms wrapping around Tsu’tey’s waist and yanking him back. Causing the knife to fall short of slicing through your side. The Olo’eyktan shrieked, a noise you had never heard a na’vi make before as his nails clawed at the man’s arms, failing to tear him off. Your ears flattened at the heart wrenching sound. Eyes not quite leaving the knife still in the Olo’eyktan’s grasp. A knife which he was quick to recall and hurl at your head. 

“Jesus FUCKING christ!” You swore, ducking again. “Calm down!”

He hissed in retaliation, ears pinned back from the ferocity of the sound. You stilled at the glint of water staining his cheeks, the redness of his eyes. ”I mourned you!” He cursed. Still struggling. Still trying to close the distance and kill you. 

Scratch that last part. Seeing him cry and begin to break down was far worse than anger.

”I buried you.” He screamed, the shout echoing around the tent and no doubt chasing itself out into the main cavern. ”I visited you in Eywa!”

Numbly, you took a step back. Towards the tent flaps. 

This had been a mistake. Coming here was a mistake.

”I have made my peace with your passing! What purpose do you serve? Why have you returned to haunt me?” There was so much anguish in his tone, you would’ve preferred a punch to the jaw. ”WHY!?”

”I couldn’t stay there.” You breathed, straightening your shoulders when you realised you’d curled in on yourself under that venomous glare. ”I couldn’t stay there!” You repeated, louder this time. Needing to be heard. Understood. ”With them.” Your throat was uncomfortably tight. ”I wanted to come home.”

”THIS IS NOT YOUR HOME, DEMON!” Tsu’tey was quick to snap back. His expression shattered, the rage giving way to a tsunami of grief so strong it made you sick. ”LEAVE!”

But you were frozen in place.

Tsu’tey took it as a challenge. With strength that made your eyes bug out, he stomped on Jake’s foot, shot his arms back, grabbed the marine by the weapons belt and yanked him up and over his shoulder. Jake hit the stone floor hard. With a wheeze, he collapsed in a heap, momentarily stunned. 

You gawked. 

Spider seemed to come back to himself. In your peripheral, you watched the kid expertly duck under Mo’at’s arm and dart around the fire, with the ease of someone who’d been doing it his entire life.

Tsu’tey’s form blocked him from view. His muscles were bunched like a thanator preparing to pounce. 

”GET. OUT!” Tsu’tey screamed again. He made to step over Jake, only for the man to grab his ankle and yank, causing the hunter to crash at your feet. You leapt back as his hands shot for your ankles. 

Spider was at your side in moments. ”This way!” He yelled, grabbing at your bound wrists and dragging you towards the tent flaps. You obeyed, but your eyes remained glued to Tsu’tey. To the hands that would drag you down and gladly wring your neck. To the twisted expression on his face, so alien to you and causing the white paint to bunch and flake. 

Mo’at tutted at his back. <”You do not think clearly.”> She narrated, stalking around the fist fight now commencing on her tent floor. 

”Come on!” Spider urged, tugging sharply on your wrists and tearing your attention from Tsu’tey and the rest of them. ”We have to get you out of here.”

<”Give me a head start?”> Spider joked with a hoarse laugh, the furious screams of Tsu’tey biting at your ankles. 

Neytiri appeared at your side, yanking aside the tent flap and helping Spider shove you outside. <”Take the ikran.”> She urged the boy, her expression icy. <”They cannot remain here.”>

You had FUCKING GATHERED THAT MUCH!

Neytiri nodded sharply before barking out loudly, <”Neteyam!”> 

A flurry of movement by the side of the tent revealed the older son from before. His expression was painfully neutral as his gaze slid from his mother to the teenager holding you hostage by your bound wrists. 

<”Take the demon to the forest.”> Neytiri stated. She didn’t wait to see if he acknowledged her command before promptly ducking back into the tent. The flicker of a memory tickled the back of your mind at her sharp cursing as the ruckus within the tent continued.

The boy, Neteyam, barely spared you a glance before heading back the way you’d been dragged into the camp. Despite being dragged all the way here for the Olo’eyktan to pass his judgement, the Sully family were doing a spontaneous job of doing the opposite of his will. You had no doubt that Tsu’tey would have gutted you regardless of his knee-jerk reaction. 

You were lost in your musings as Neteyam hollered for his ikran, three bursts of sound that had the magnificent beast dropping from a higher level of the cave system to stand before its rider. The boy was quick to form Tsaheylu, before fluidly mounting up.

<”Where are we headed?”>

<”The old village.”> Spider replied simply, guiding you towards the back of the mount with firm pushes. 

Part 1 -> Next Chapter 

[incorrectpizza]

speaking of modern aus idk if i've ever posted about my rebels journalism au which exists solely for my own self indulgence.

hera's a journalist with the phoenix press, an underground anti-establishment newspaper. ahsoka's the editor, bail's the publisher. she lives in an apartment above the newsroom, which has a front as some sort of coworking space.

chopper's the cat who showed up as a tiny angry kitten and just never left. cat distribution system, all that. now a grown up angry cat.

sabine's the "receptionist." say the right words, you get in, say the wrong ones, you get a death glare. her parents are furious that she's pursuing anything other than a military career and so when she switched majors from military science to art and photography, she got kicked out, dropped down to part-time enrollment, took on a job and ended up moving in at hera's.

zeb's a good cop in a world full of bad cops. kallus is the worst of his bad cop coworkers. he feeds hera intel on the injustices and helps out whenever he can, til he gets caught doing something too nice and has to flee (to hera's apartment).

ezra's a runaway foster kid who kanan finds and rescues from getting involved in black sun (drug running gang) and tells to go to hera for a job. hera hires him to deliver papers, and when she learns the truth about him...he ends up moving in, too.

and kanan? kanan's hera's top informer, the one with the shady connections outside the government, who she meets with every single friday morning. they get coffee. it is not a date, no, strictly business. he's a mostly recovered alcoholic but one day, he relapses hard, winds up in the police station, and calls hera to pick him up. she does. he never leaves.

and that's how hera ends up with everyone in a tiny apartment with sleeping arrangements that make no sense to literally anyone involved (ie she and kanan don't share a room until they've been "secretly" married over a year and she's several months pregnant with jacen), living the dream (overthrowing the government with words), trying not to die (there's a few car chases and at least one motorcycle crash (rip the phantom)).

highlights include 14yo homeless ezra coming in and applying as dev morgan, a 17yo who lives in the empiree state building; chopper drawing blood on numerous occasions, especially zeb and kanan; and the time a tabloid publishes an article about their drama and hera gets FURIOUS ("they claim i'm kriffing my informant in the newsroom! i'm making love to my husband in the apartment above the newsroom").

is there a plot? not really. will there ever be a fic? almost certainly not. does it still live rent free in my head? yes. yes it does.