#springtime trio

[casmiick]

some springtime trio yearning for u guys… yeah

[enbyleighlines]

@luna-lakes

Yes! Some Moomintroll headcanons:

He never quite becomes at good at cooking as his mother, nor does he ever get the hang of writing like his father, but he does become a sort of jack-of-all trades in terms of house work and repair. Moomintroll often gets ideas in his head about projects he wants to work on, and when he gets started, he tends to become completely absorbed, skipping meals and sometimes even sleep.

Moomintroll can be a bit self-absorbed and oblivious at times, but when it really counts, he becomes a source of calm and comfort for those around him. It’s not so much that he consciously tries to make himself a leader, but he falls so naturally into the leadership role that other people feel compelled to follow his example.

I hc Moomintroll as bisexual. He’s aware of his attraction to girls from a young age, after he got over the whole “girls have cooties” phase. And he romanticizes the idea of having a wife, like Moominpappa has Moominmamma. So while he starts crushing on Snufkin early on in their friendship, it takes him a while to realize that all his affection and pining isn’t platonic.

Moomintroll and Too-Ticky end up sharing a special bond. As a child, he doesn’t quite understand why he looks up to her so much, and it’s not until much later that he realizes that Too-Ticky was basically his first queer role model. That, and Too-Ticky shares his love of woodworking. I like to imagine that she tutored him in the art of carpentry, especially over the winter, whenever Moomintroll woke up early from his hibernation.

As an adult, Moomintroll is far more self-assured with himself, confident in a way that others (especially Snorkmaiden and Snufkin) find very attractive. He isn’t afraid to speak his mind. Nor is he easily embarrassed.

Moomintroll is a very tactile person. He grew up in a family where physical affection was freely given, and it’s become his main love language. And while he does his best to respect everybody’s bodily autonomy, asking for consent with his words or body language, there is a part of him that feels a little hurt/rejected when someone turns down a hug. This becomes a big learning curve with Snufkin, who is more particular about when and who gets to touch him.

Moomintroll is the type of person to develop crushes quite often. Most of the time, those crushes are short-lived. Even so, Moomintroll tries to be conscientious, because he’s aware that Snorkmaiden can become insecure if she feels like Moomintroll’s affection for her is fading/being outweighed by his newest crush. Moomintroll comes to believe that honesty is the best policy. So he will inform Snorkmaiden of his newest crush, while also reminding her that his love for her has not dwindled.

Thanks for the prompt!! These were really fun!

[jowbokitten]

tbf if it was hot out, i wudn't wanna wear shorts either...

[butch--snufkin]

as a special treat I am digging up the moomin sketches sitting in my gallery collecting dust that I'll likely never finish, plus a few oldies from the sketchbooks~

[rosebloodcat]

It been a while since I've drawn something and was inspired by @phenyxsnest 's fluffvember 2019 story "It's So Fluffy". It's such a fun and cute story I just couldn't help myself.

I actually enjoy little stories like this, and kinda wish there were more with the same premise. But that's just me.

[ailesdiaphanes]

ok I added springtime trio

[ramblingkat]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 楽しいムーミン一家 | Moomin (Anime 1990), Bleach (Anime & Manga) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Mumintrollet | Moomintroll/Snorkfröken | The Snork Maiden/Snusmumriken | Snufkin Characters: Snusmumriken | Snufkin, Mumintrollet | Moomintroll, Snorkfröken | The Snork Maiden, Urahara Kisuke, Lilla My | Little My, Aliisa | Alicia (Mumintroll) Additional Tags: Papa Snufkin, Work prompts, Toddlers Being Toddlers, Very much post canon for Moomin, Blame the UraIchi Discord, Blame the Rat Pit Series: Part 2 of Springtime Growth, Part 9 of Level Up Summary:

Snufkin enjoys being a dad. Generally. Little shots of him and his family.

[canadachronicles]

A sunny May Saturday is a perfect day to swing to Oscar Peterson's rousing Younger Than Springtime!

[freelancearsonist]

the mark they saw on my collarbone

➔ post-outbreak Joel Miller x afab!Reader // series masterlist

➔ 4.4k words

➔ Joel’s instincts kick in when he runs into an omega in trouble along a smuggling route.

➔ Rated MA // a/b/o dynamics and the associated gender politics (alpha!joel and omega!reader), heavy dom/sub dynamics, unprotected piv sex, creampie, fingering, oral (reader receiving), biting/marking, blood, size kink, joel calls reader little one/little thing, mention of reader being food-insecure, alpha!tommy and alpha!tess are here briefly. takes place one year post-outbreak. // reader is afab (female anatomy, no pronouns used), is generally able-bodied, is mentioned to be smaller/shorter than joel and can fit into his jacket, is otherwise a blank slate.

Tess’s face perks up halfway over a fallen tree–she stops in her tracks to tilt her nose into the wind. “You smell that?”

Of course Joel smells it. His senses were alerted to it about half a mile ago; he’s always had the better nose. He’s been trying to ignore it, however. There’s no point to giving into temptation in this shattered world, no matter how sweet the scent.

“Whew,” Tommy huffs, wrinkling his nose at the heavy pheromones that now drift around the trio. “Whoever it is, they’re closer than comfortable.”

“Smells like they’re in trouble,” Tess posits–always the thoughtful one. Always wanting to have faith in humanity, no matter how many reasons the last year has given her to lose hope. “That’s an omega. If not in full out heat, then damn near close to it.”

“Ain’t no way there’s an omega out on their own in these woods,” Joel growls. “It’s a trap.”

Tess shoots him a look–worried, stern. “What if it’s not?”

“It is.” He doesn’t even entertain the idea. There’s no way anything is left untainted in this world.

But with every step forward, the scent gets stronger and Joel’s resolve grows weaker. Your scent is so sweet. It reminds him of springtime in Austin, the little yellow sour grass buds and picnics in the park with…

The scar on his temple gives a single little throb, and he forces himself to focus up. They’ve got a clear destination, a contact to meet outside the Atlanta QZ. He needs to keep his head in the game and out of the past. Dwelling on that, on what the world was merely a year ago, is fucking pointless. No matter how much he hopes, how much he dreams, how much he begs and pleads to a god he never really believed in to begin with, nothing brings her back.

The scent makes his stomach churn the stronger it gets. It’s not like any omega he’s ever known before. They’ve all been… a little bitter. Or maybe his ex just left a tainted trace in his nose, spoiled it for everyone else. He’s never needed a partner to feel complete, anyway. Being a father is what gives him purpose. Gave him purpose.

He pushes that train of thought from mind, sets his jaw, and marches on.

The funny thing is, they’ve spent a lot of time in these woods–Tess, Tommy, and him. For as close to the QZ as it is, they’ve never met a single other soul in these parts.

That’s why, when Joel senses your pheromones only getting stronger as they forge on, he thinks about saying something. They’re headed straight towards you, into what must be a trap. The Atlanta QZ doesn’t take omegas; there’s no reason one should be so close. If he was smart, he’d make sure that the group avoids you at all costs. But there’s a deep, primal part of him that forces him to keep his mouth shut just as he’s about to open it and suggest rerouting their journey. He wants to investigate, to find out if you’re really as sweet as you smell.

He can tell Tommy and Tess are thinking along the same lines, and it makes his teeth grit together, eyes pinched in frustration. There’s an underlying possessiveness in every further stride he takes, eyes boring into the backs of his pack members’ heads while he takes position at the rear of the group.

This is why people used to say that alphas couldn’t work together, he realizes. Not that it’s ever been an issue for him before–but he’s never smelled an omega he’s wanted so much before, either. Tommy was always the tail-chaser, before everything went to shit; he was constantly getting himself into trouble, and Joel would constantly bail him out. And Tess… he’s never met an alpha quite like her. He’s never seen her with an omega, either; never bothered asking if she had one before the outbreak. But she’s compassionate, if a bit tough. She doesn’t seem like the main threat right now.

This is what he’s always hated about these god-forsaken roles. He watches Tommy’s pace pick up a little, sees the younger Miller’s nose tilt ever-so-slightly to the wind, and in this moment he sees his own brother as a threat. That’s something that should never have had to happen. But a pack of three, and all alphas… it was bound to happen sooner or later. Maybe they’ve all been fooling themselves.

It’s been great for them thus far, being able to use each other when necessary without fear of repercussions, but there also hasn’t been an omega in the picture yet. Now, with heavy pheromones swirling invisibly between the three of them, a subtle and silent struggle for dominance starts to rear its ugly head.

The scent only grows stronger, and it makes Joel worry. It’s heady, damn near overwhelming. Joel’s never witnessed an omega so close to heat without actually being in heat. The pull of your pheromones is dangerous–it’ll draw in every alpha within a range of miles, maybe even some from the QZ with how close you are. The range will only grow once your heat actually breaks out. The pack is heading directly towards the source of great danger, and all three of them know it. Even still, all three of them are powerless to stop it.

Joel spots you first. You’re nestled under a tree, sound asleep, half-camouflaged by a blanket of orange and brown leaves. You’re gorgeous, there’s no other way to describe you, and with your pheromones flooding his senses it’s nearly impossible for him to hold back from approaching you.

He reaches out a quick hand and grabs his brother’s arm just as he’s about to step towards you.

“Don’t,” Joel growls from deep in his chest. His eyes dart around quickly, searching every inch of autumn foliage for some sign of the trap this must be. They’ve heard about this exact kind of trap before, and Joel mentally curses himself for falling right into it despite knowing better.

Hardly any unmarked omegas survived outbreak day. Many of the few that did were captured by large groups of malicious betas and put into traps, their heats used to lure in alphas who were then exterminated en masse. Joel and his pack have been lucky not to encounter such a trap yet, but everyone’s luck runs out eventually.

They stand, they watch you, and they wait for the other boot to drop.

But it doesn’t. You sleep peacefully, albeit squirming a little bit, and no one else comes. There’s nothing but the sound of birds chirping in the distance and wind rustling the bare branches of the trees overhead.

All of a sudden, you wake. Your entire body jolts, nostrils flaring at the heavy and suddenly overwhelming scent of alpha. Your beautiful eyes widen with fear, and Joel sees you're about to make a break for it.

Without thinking, he steps forward and holds a hand out in front of him–a sign of goodwill. “Easy, omega. We ain’t gonna hurtcha.”

Your chest heaves with panting breaths, but you don’t move yet. You’re smart, he thinks. You know you can’t outrun all three of them.

“You’re in a spot a’trouble,” Joel continues, trying to make his voice as gentle as possible as he takes another tiny step closer to you. “Could smell your heat comin’ on from miles away. What’s a li’l thing like you doin’ out in the woods all alone?”

“Going to the QZ.” There’s a firmness behind your tone–how brave you are, he thinks. And how stupid. 

“Where you comin’ from?” He asks–prying, but gently.

You look apprehensive, but you answer anyway. “Tennessee.”

“Didn’t do your research, did you sweetheart?” He grumbles as gently as he can. “Atlanta don’t take omegas. You go there, ‘specially in the state you’re in, you’ll be shot on sight.”

He can almost see the gears turning in your head, albeit slowly given your state; you’re wondering if he’s really telling the truth, if you can really trust him. You’re wondering why he hasn’t leaped at you yet.

You gulp and plant your hands in the dirt at your sides as if you’re getting ready to stand, but you don’t move yet.

Tommy takes a quick step forward, and Joel sees the way you flinch at the sharp crack of a twig underneath the younger Miller’s boot.

“Joel–”

“Shut the fuck up,” he growls, a little harsher than he means to. “Don’t you fuckin’ move, Tommy. I mean it.”

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whisper, hardly louder than the breeze. And then he sees it–the first pang of heat, your face screwing up in pain and your body squirming uncomfortably on the forest floor. You try not to show it, but Joel catches it anyway. Your heat is here, and his instincts take over.

“Fuck off,” he snarls, stepping firmly between Tommy and you. Tess steps forward, mouth agape in some mixture of shock and confusion, and Joel swivels his burning gaze to her. “Both of you. Fuck off. Go on ahead to Atlanta, I’ll meet up with you there.”

Tess doesn’t look affected, just concerned. “Joel, what the–”

“Go!” He roars. There’s no room for argument, even though Tommy opens his mouth like he might try. In the end, they know there’s no winning. Not right now, not with Joel’s pheromones rising and his eyes so dark. They hesitate just a moment, slowly back away, and then finally admit defeat and vanish into the trees.

Once they’re gone, you don’t try to hide your pain as much. A whimper escapes your lips as you squeeze your thighs together and all pretense falls away.

“You okay, little one?” He drops to his knees beside you so he can give you a better look. It’s clear that the road you’ve traveled has not been easy on you–he’s amazed you’ve survived as long as you have all on your own. You’re disheveled and dirty, maybe even worse off than he is. You look like you haven’t eaten in days, and the simple t-shirt covering you isn’t nearly warm enough to protect you from the chill riding in on the late autumn breeze.

Joel’s quick to rip his jacket off and drape it around your trembling shoulders–he feels a strange surge of pride when you quickly pull the fabric tightly around you and nuzzle your face into the collar for a deep inhale of his scent.

“Talk to me, omega.” His voice is deep, demanding. “You doin’ okay? What can I do to help?”

“Alpha…” Your voice is so quiet, and all he wants is to take you into his arms. But now of all times is not the time to be hasty. As much as he wants you, he refuses to take advantage of you.

“It hurts, alpha,” you continue quietly.

“I know, baby.” The sweet ting of southern accent in his voice seeps into your very veins and warms you from head to toe with each rapid thump of your heart. “How can I help?”

You reach a shaky hand towards him and he meets you halfway, marveling at how small your hand is compared to his paw. He never really considered himself a big guy until this moment, seeing you so small and helpless beside him. Clearly it’s affecting you too–he sees the way your thighs clench tightly together the second he touches you.

“I trust you,” you murmur so sweetly.

For a moment, he considers running. He’s done horrible things with the hands that now hold you so gently. He’s not one to be trusted. He’ll only end up hurting you.

“Your scent’s gonna draw more alphas in, baby,” he coos deeply. “There’s a whole QZ fullav’em just a couple miles away. It ain’t safe to be out in the open like this.”

But there’s no logic or reason left in your gaze–you nuzzle your face into his neck so you can inhale his scent straight from the source, and Joel knows there’s only one way this ends without some worse alpha coming along and hurting or killing you.

“Need you, alpha,” you plead as shiny tears fill your pretty eyes. “Please, it hurts so bad.”

Joel wonders if this is your first heat–it sure seems like it. You’ve probably been on suppressants since the day you presented. Every bone in his body screams for you; screams to take your pain away, to soothe you with his own body, to make you his.

He’s never felt so much like an alpha as he does in this moment, when your heat gets the better of you and you fuze your mouth to his in a searing kiss.

Joel actually moans into your mouth. It’s deep and a little louder than he means to be, caught off guard by the suddenness of the kiss but even more by how sweet you taste. Your scent didn’t do you justice, really. He’s never gotten addicted to someone from their kiss alone before, and yet just as suddenly as it started he needs more. He needs to devour you whole, to claim every inch of you until there’s nothing left for anyone else. Even as he licks into your mouth and easily takes control of your mouth with his tongue, he knows this is going to end badly. He also knows that he doesn’t care.

“Sweet little thing,” he coos as he tugs you to straddle his lap. You can feel the insistent press of his hardening bulge against your core, and you grind down so hard he hisses. “Easy baby, I gotcha.”

“Alpha, please…”

“Gotta have some patience, omega,” he tells you firmly. “I’ll take care’a ya, but I gotta getcha ready first. Don’t wanna hurtcha.”

You kind of want it to hurt, you kind of want him to burn himself into your very soul, but you don’t say as much out loud. You probably couldn’t form the words anyway–all that comes from your mouth is a needy little whimper.

“Hush, omega, you’re okay,” he whispers into your ear as he lays you back against the fallen leaves, one hand carefully cushioning your head while the other pulls your thigh open so he can slot himself between your legs. “M’gonna make it all better, just gotta be good f’me.”

“Alpha…” You feel the first ounce of relief as he drags your jeans and underwear down your legs in one smooth motion. Your burning skin is met with cool air and it feels incredible. Nearly as incredible as the sensation of his kisses tracing down your body, even through the fabric of your t-shirt that he leaves in place because he doesn’t want you getting cold no matter how much it feels like you might spontaneously combust if you don’t feel him inside you soon.

“You’re gonna be good for me, arentcha?” He hums against the hem of your t-shirt, just above where you so desperately need him.

“Yes, alpha,” you breathe as politely as you can manage.

His lips latch onto your clit as soon as the words have left your mouth. He knows exactly what you need–none of that torturous rapid flicking that you’ve experienced in the past but firm, honest-to-god, get-the-job-done suction.

He slips a finger into your dripping entrance and it’s honestly amazing that you don’t come right on the spot. Just that one thick finger is a stretch–it makes you arch your hips up off the ground, desperate to get away from the onslaught of pleasure and yet simultaneously wanting more.

“I know, sweetie,” he coos against your clit, slowly curling his finger until he finds the spot that makes your thighs tremble. “Feels good, doesn’it?”

“Y-yes, oh my–”

He throws all pretense out the window and adds two more fingers, filling you to your breaking point. You shatter without warning as he increases the pressure on your clit, thighs quivering and hips bucking pathetically as your warmth coats his chin. Your entire body wracks as he works you through it, fingers curling against your g-spot as his lips mercifully release your clit with an obscene pop.

“That’s right, baby,” he coos proudly. “So good f’me.”

You’re panting as you come down, satisfied for one beautiful moment even as he pulls his fingers from you so he can kiss his way back up to your mouth.

He slots between your legs so he can lick into your mouth again, and the taste of your own pleasure on his tongue makes everything come crashing back down. Your cunt clenches hard around nothing, and you groan out in pain and need for him.

He grunts when your legs lock around his sturdy waist, feet pressing into his ass to grind his heavy, jean-clad cock into your soaked folds. He moans from the very pit of his stomach, surprised at the sudden movement–and then he presses even harder, grinding himself so firmly against your cunt that you swear you can feel the outline of his mushroom head even through the layers of clothing he still wears.

“Tell me you want this, omega,” he pants into your ear, still pressed so tightly to you as he reaches down to tug his belt open. “Tell me to fuck you.”

“Please, alpha.” You’re trying so hard not to sound whiny, but you’re failing miserably. “Please fuck me.”

Joel simply adores how sweetly you ask for what you need. God, he doesn’t even know your name, but it’s taking everything in him not to claim you for the rest of eternity.

Would that really be so bad? Clearly you’re a survivor if you’ve made it this far, and as an omega no less. You could be a valuable addition to the pack.

But really, it’s the thought of having you as a home to come back to that gets him tugging his cock out of his jeans to the symphony of your quiet moans and pleas. He thinks about having a lovingly-crafted nest and the sweetest, tightest cunt he’s ever known waiting for him at the end of a long day, and it takes everything in him not to blow his load right then and there.

He knows he doesn’t deserve this, but he’s willing to be selfish anyway. Just this once.

“Holy shit,” you gasp when you look down and see the firm length of him, barely contained in his big hand. He’s thick and weeping precum, tip stained a dark maroon from sitting in his jeans untouched this long. He’s nothing like the betas you entertained yourself with before the outbreak–you’ve never even really seen an alpha’s cock in person, and certainly none this large.

He must see the apprehension in your gaze, because he takes your chin between his thumb and forefinger so he can raise your face to meet his dark, brooding eyes. “You tell me if it hurts, okay? Don’t wanna hurt you, wanna help you feel better.”

You don’t know why, but you trust him. So you nod, and you tug him into a deep kiss.

The first press of him into your waiting core has your mouth dropping open, head pressing back into the hand that cups the back of your head. He keeps you pressed so firmly against his entire body as he inches in. He’s so attentive, pulling back to watch your face for any sign of discomfort as he rocks his hips, pushing an inch deeper with every shallow thrust until the base of him settles as tightly against you as he can.

He doesn’t find anything in your expression other than pure euphoria.

He kisses you, breathless and messy, as he wills himself to stay still while fully sheathed in your tight heat. Damn it all, he’s fighting so hard for control. He’s never had someone squeeze him so perfectly, so warmly. Your cunt is pure, unadulterated heaven.

“A-alpha,” you whine once you’re ready, but he can’t move. Not yet. You’re his omega, he needs to take care of you, and he’s far too close to spilling himself deep inside your cunt and pressing even deeper so his knot can take root. He could never live with himself if he disappointed you like that.

“Please, alpha,” you try again, and the unrelenting need is what does him in. You need him, not just anyone. No one else could satisfy you how he does–he’s sure of it.

With the first true thrust of his hips, a wave of pheromones rushes over his senses. He basks in the scent of you, nearly high on it, and then the danger of this comes crashing back to him.

He thrusts deep, makes your toes curl and your chest heave, and he asks a weighted question as the pace continues. “This your first heat?”

You nod your head, barely even able to process his words. “R-ran out of s-suppressants.”

Fuck. He knew it. You don’t even seem to realize the danger, the calling card that you’re putting on display for every alpha within a ten mile radius. It’s a miracle that no one has shown up–everyone in Atlanta is probably wise to the trap scheme, luckily. But luck runs out eventually, and someone’s going to end up taking a chance for your delectable scent.

“Others’re gonna smell you, omega,” he growls as he grinds deep. “Ain’t safe to be unmarked out here. They’ll come f’ya.”

The pleasure is unbearable–toe-curling, blood-boiling, thigh-quaking. All you can do is sob and whine as his big cock fucks into you and hits exactly the right spot with every thrust.

“Gotta mark ya,” he continues quietly. “Only way to keep you safe, baby.”

You come out of your reverie a little bit at that; but deep down, you know he’s right. The only way you’ve been able to survive so long was a stockpile of suppressants you were lucky enough to get your hands on. But they’re gone, and with them your chances of surviving much longer. Unless you let this stranger mark you–the most intimate gesture possible.

“Okay,” you breathe against his neck. “Mark me.”

Your cunt clenches unbearably tight around his shaft as his teeth dig sharply into the base of your neck. Your taste floods his mouth, heady and warm–in combination with your legs locked around his waist, he can’t stop it. He’s coming before he can warn you, hot ropes of seed coating every inch of you, seemingly endless. And then, without thinking, he presses that little bit deeper so his knot can fill you to your limit.

You sob at the sensation, nails digging into his shirt-clad back in a feeble attempt to tamp down the overload of pleasure at the sudden stretch of his thick knot in your tight cunt.

“Fuckfuckfuck–” he growls into your bitten neck, grinding himself as deep as he can as his cock pulses within your tight walls. “Oh fuck omega, I’m sorry–”

You hush him to the best of your breathless ability as your hands smooth through his sweaty brown hair and down over his shoulders. “It’s okay. It’s okay, alpha. You made it so much better.”

There’s a long moment of silence, Joel’s mind swirling with so many thoughts that he can’t focus on a single one. You coax him through it silently, hands smoothing over the fabric of his shirt as your breathing slowly comes.

You’ve never felt so full, so complete. His scent surrounds you and fills you; nothing has ever felt quite so right.

You realize vaguely that he’s licking the blood from the teeth marks on your neck, and you think now’s as good a time as any to give him your name.

He looks up at you, confused for a moment, and then a warm laugh bubbles from his throat. God, he can’t remember the last time he actually laughed. What are you doing to him?

“Joel Miller,” he introduces himself back. “M’sorry, I shoulda started with that.”

His arms are getting shaky from supporting his weight above you, so he grabs firmly onto your waist and rolls smoothly onto his back with you rested snugly against his chest.

“M’sorry,” he repeats again as he feels his swollen knot pulse within you at the slight movement of your hips. “I meant to pull out, I–”

“I wanted it,” you tell him. “I wouldn’t let you. I’m sorry too.”

He gulps, nods once as a hand idly comes up to cradle your head. “I’ve got a guy in the QZ. He can get us a pill. But we’ve gotta be more careful next time.”

“Next time?”

“That was just the first round, baby,” he explains quietly. “Heats can last days, even a week. You’ll need a lot more care ‘fore it’s over.”

“Oh.” You feel so dumb, getting your education from someone whose knot is currently swollen inside you.

“We’ll get a pill,” he promises. “And I’ll pull out next time.”

“You’re… not leaving?” You’ve tried so hard not to have any false pretenses about this. You figured from the get go that he’d leave as soon as his knot went down and you’d never see him again.

He sighs heavily and runs a hand over the patchy brown hair on his chin. “Look, I… you met the rest’a my pack earlier, sorta. There’s just the three of us. We’re not good people, but… we’ll keep you safe. And you seem like you’re able to earn your keep.”

“I am,” you’re quick to assert.

“And I’ve marked you,” he adds. “Can’t just leave ya out here to fend for yourself. You’re my omega now.”

You don’t know why, but the words make your heart flutter.

You and Joel catch up to Tommy and Tess at the edge of the QZ, just in time for the meeting with their contact. Joel had explained to you on the way that it was an old acquaintance, a guy they’d met in Texas shortly after the outbreak who they’d worked with for a few months before he joined up with FEDRA. Now he sneaks supplies out to them in exchange for rarities from the other QZs.

That’s what the pack does, Joel had explained. They’re smugglers–they distribute things illegally between all the different continental quarantine zones.

Tommy and Tess see the two of you coming, and they’re instantly on guard. It only gets worse when Tommy recognizes the brown leather jacket wrapped tightly around your torso to shield you from the breeze.

“Joel.”

Joel tries to ignore Tommy’s call, but there’s not much he can do.

“Joel, what the fuck’ve you done?”

Joel supposes Tommy’s outrage is justified, but he shields you from it anyway. Truth be told, he doesn’t rightly know just what he’s gotten himself into with you.

➔ beta: @futuraa-free (thank u honey i love u)

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[copypastus]

Day 4: Found Family Entry for @feyreweekofficial

Og springtime trio was peak vibes you can't change my mind.

Ofc I remembered they were wearing masks after I finished >_> So here's a canon compliant version under cut:

[sunofpandora]

Authors note:

AYEEEE CHAPTER TWO

Wow! I was not expecting all the kind comments and the taglist requests from chapter 1. I’m genuinely in shock, still. The comments and reposts got me teary eyed. 

                                                                   V I R A G O            

Word count: 6k       

Chapter 2

The son sun made of stone  

words.

𝓭𝓮𝓽𝓪𝓲𝓵𝓼/𝔀𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼/𝓼𝔂𝓷𝓸𝓹𝓼𝓲𝓼/

‘Y/n was made of fire. Oh, a goddess girl with lips of lightning and a caged Phoenix under her skin. Neteyam is just the ashes and remains of the heavens she crushed under her heel.’

General Warnings: na’vi reader/ reader is a war orphan/ as always, spider, the reader, and Lo’ak are a trio/ Lo’ak and Reader being platonic soulmates?/ Spider and Reader being trauma twins/ Neteyam being lovesic/ Neteyam being nervous and shy around reader/ Neytiri being mother/ Jake being the husband i wish i had/ Tuk being a little sister and looking up to y/n/ Mentions of grace’s school./ reader fell first but Neteyam fell way harder/ sun x moon relationship 

Chapter 2 warnings: jealous neteyam/ mentions or anxiousness/ mentions of war and death/flirting/ mentions of dead animals/ mentions of grief and injuries/

Extra info:

Y/n is one year younger than neteyam, she is 18 and he is 19.

Lo’ak is 18 and Kiri is also 19. Tuk is 7-8 and spider is 19.

Extra characters: 

Ka’lik (y/ns father. A deceased warrior of the Omaticaya clan)

Zensira (y/n’s mother. deceased best singer and head songstress of the Omaticaya clan)

Makeyo (a warrior of the omaticaya clan. The same age as neteyam and went through iknimiya the same day as well. A filthy simp for y/n)

Kailo (Y/n’s ikran. Your ikran is a male ya’ll. sorry.)

Popiti (tuk’s best friend according to the visual dictionary)

Chapter two synopsis:

Neteyam comes to return y/n’s bracelet and has some internal conflict about his feelings towards her. Makeyo attempts to make a move on y/n and Neteyam experiences a different type of burning in his heart.

Neteyams Pov (trying something new by writing from neteyams pov as a little experiment. Lemme know how yall like it.)

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆

“Neteyam”

For a moment the sound of my name leaving her lips in a breath is almost enough to forget myself and drop to my knees. 

The tuft of my tail thwacks the back of my head gently and i force my heartbeat to endure boundaries.

 I clear my throat, finding the words.

My eyes fan over her figure.

The moonlight contours the crevices of her curves. Her eyes, an amorous gold, spark themselves luminous. Almost Neon in the darkness of night. 

There's a bandage around her torso, and one around her left bicep. Her skin smells of grandmother's salves and wooden bowls.

It’s funny how fast the memories flood back. 

There was a time before she was made of fire.

Well, actually, I don't think that’s a fair statement.

There was always a spark. Always that small flicker refusing to perish even in strong winds.

I have memories of playing in the stream with my siblings and Y/n, and occasionally spider.  

She’d chase me. Her feet assaulted the shin deep water with the harsh sloshing of her feet. She tackled me and pulled on my tail. The sunburst air is sweet like nectar against our glistening skin and shrieks of laughter and springtime memories. 

Her laughter challenges the brightness of the sugared sun rays that danced through the canopy, it shakes the stars with its loud singing.

The scattered droplets of water seize on her skin as she chases lo’ak, carrying a smaller spider on her back.

Now she stands before me. Taller, stronger, a warrior in all its forms. 

I clear my throat once again, my eyes flickering over her body.

“How are you? Grandmother was able to treat you?”

She nods, leaning lightly against the wooden entrance frame of the marui.

“The wounds could have been worse. Mo’at was able to clean up the wounds just fine. Tsahik suggested i rest here for the night..’

She trials off, clicking her tongue as she gently taps her finger against the bandage.

The dwindling echoes of our breaths gently keep the silence afloat.

My eyes flicker up when her voice catches my ears.

“You? Any injuries?”

I shrug. “A few scratches. Nothing Serious. Lo’ak has a small bruise on his head but he’ll be fine. Mother treated us earlier.”

Something somber in her irises flickers. It’s small, but its not quiet. I open my mouth to speak but like most other things between us, she beats me to it.

“Why did you fly down there today? You could have been killed.”

There’s a hiss at the endnotes of her voice. And I don't blame her for being pissed. Not for a second.

I frown, I can feel my tail thump lightly against the ground.

“Lo’ak flew his way down there first. I wet after him.”

My confession trails a veil of blankness behind it that lingers in the air. She shakes her head, staring down.

“It’s not a thing of fault. I should have been more responsible. Im the older brother, after all-”

“Bullshit.”

The suddenness of her words make me pause. It wasn’t unexpected, but it seems a bit more vague than usual. Even for her.

“Y/n i-”

“No. No, Neteyam this has to come to an end. You can’t keep taking the fall for him. How many times will you let yourself fall off a cliff before you learn not to justify the one who pushed you off the ledge?”

I’m quiet for a moment. I feel another frown etch itself onto my lips.

“I must hold myself accountable as well. I am the future leader of this clan. If i cannot even keep my siblings out of trouble, how will I protect my people?” 

I’m sure loak had told her of the scolding we received from my father.

She takes a step closer, the fire in her gaze challenges all it sees. My heartbeat speeds up its sympathy.

“Then who protects you, Neteyam?”

I’m still for a moment. My throat hitches quietly and my words come up short.

She takes a breath and shifts herself back a bit, rubbing two fingers to her temple.

Her eyes creased with exhaust. I can tell the day has drained her.

“I’m sorry. I spoke out of line.”

“You never have to apologize to me.”

I can tell it surprises her a bit. How fast my words chased after her own.

My hesitation creeps its way through the blanket of gray that treads along the silence.

I clear my throat once again, averting my gaze.

“I’m glad you returned safely. I was worried sick.”

She chuckles and gently flips the small spiral in her hand.

“Had my lucky charm on my bow today. I guess i have you to thank.”

I cannot help but feel an ache every time I see that damned spiral. Iv’e tormented myself with an object so small it's pathetic. Really. A substitution for the words i couldn't speak.

I force a smile, a gentle chuckle to follow along.

“Well. I see its made some sort of use.”

She nods and places it gently back into the pocket of her loincloth.

I find myself doing the same, fishing around my own pocket until i hear the small clatter of beads.

Ihold her bracelet out to her.

“Here. You lost this today.”

She gasps softly. My heart beckons for my unspoken yearning whenever i saw her eyes light up like that. And fuck, I curse myself for looking away.

She placed it back on her wrist.

“Thank you, Neteyam. I would have been looking for days.”

When her fingers brush my palm a new wave of sun-streaked warmth swallows my chest in the pale moonlight.

“You don’t have to thank me.”

I would do anything for you.

She chuckles softly and I swear I feel my knees buckle at the sound.

All I can do is stare at her for a moment. My eyes tracing her curves and imagine it’s my fingertips, kissing my small apologies onto her skin.

The small breeze wisps at the small loose hairs that edged at her forehead, scattered out of her braids. Her scent is sweet. Her eyes are wondrously doe-like. 

I wish i could pocket the sounds of her laughter. I wish i could reach for her and brush her skin against mine if it meant even a second of her warmth is relished in. 

I want her. All of her. I want her fire even if it burns me. I want her wild high-tide seas even if they drown me. I want her heart even if I must beg for it. I want her lips, and her hands. I want every rough edge and every smooth surface.

It finds a way to bind me in its threshold of longing before I even register what I've done.

My hand reaches out. The planes in the lines of my palm rest against her cheek and the pad of my thumb rubs small circles on the small temple of a space in front of her ear.

I’d forget I ever existed if it was convenient for her.

There was a time I pretended she didn’t exist. Where fear and thought collided with my panic.

Years ago. After I gave her that spiral.

I made her mere presence become a voidance in my life. A small patch of blankness that traced her shape.

There’s a reason this void stands between us. I hurt her. And I will never forgive myself for it.

I was afraid. I was afraid of what my feelings would do to me. Of what it would do to the future olo’eyktan of this clan. I feared distraction. I feared devotion. And now i yearn for it. Call it a punishment, call it karma or something more. All I know is that I pushed her away. It of my arms, out of my circle, and I thought giving her that spiral would fix my mistakes.

It hurts me. The look in her eyes when I avoided her around the village. The way her gaze chased after me when i walked away

I was 15, afraid and stupid. I still haven’t forgiven myself from keeping her out of my circle.

Now I stand before her. This woman I may never deserve. This beautiful woman who will forever hold my heart in her hands.

She stares at me. But it's full of a sour memory that resonates on the edge of her tongue.

“Neteyam..”

There it is. How she says my name.

Fuck.

Fuck, why did I ever think, even for a mere moment my heart wasn’t hers?

Say it again.

Say it again,y/n please i beg you.

But I don't dare say it aloud.

Instead I whisper to her, my thumb stopping its movements for a moment as i cradle her head.

“Y/n, yawne. I am so, so sorry I didn't protect you today. I couldn't bare the thought of you in danger. “

She pushes my hand away, and for a moment the moonlight feels bitter.

“I don’t need your protection.”

It’s not that I think I don't deserve that.

But is it wrong for it to still ache?

“Y/n. please-”

“It is late, neteyam. I wish to rest now. Please.”

Theres a small tremble in the endnotes of her voice.

And i want to strangle the one who caused her this.

But what more can i do when i caused it myself?

I take a step back, gently bowing my head.

My eyes linger on her for a moment longer.

“Good night, Y/n.”

“Good night, Neteyam.”

As the tent flap closes, I take a step back. Staring up at the moon through the large crevices that topped the mountain of highcamp.

Maybe she doesn't belong in my arms.

I ache for her at night. I dream of holding her. I beg for the figment of her not to feebly collapse into  stardust and watch her wither out of my grasp. Her arrow aims at my heart and I tell her of my heartache.

She says nothing as I’m on my knees for her. Her glare is a cryptic mockery. She weakens me. Every moment of this fleeting moment within my reverie is a punishment. The morning sunset is bitter and the sky feels skeletal. 

To her my devotion is a joke and all I can think of is how fucking beautiful she is when she laughs.

I had a dream once that I kissed her. I kissed her until I couldn’t breathe. She tasted dark and delicate. 

I am hers. I was always hers. 

I’d let her ruin me.

Unravel every piece of me and stitch back together what left is salvaged of those small fragments and watch as they spell out her name.

Y/n.

Y/n.

Y/n.

Y/n.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

The next morning was calmer than yesterday to say the least.

Lo’ak went with my father to hunt.

Kiri went with my grandmother to help in the Tsahik tent.

Y/n was off with her own duties, and that left me to help my mother in our family's marui.

Oh yeah, did I mention Tuk?

It wasn’t abnormal that I often found myself conversing with Tuk.

She sits in with her smaller legs tucked under her body. Her hands are much like mine and my mothers, but small and juvenile. They lack gracefulness as they scramble with my braids, slipping the beads she made all by herself (Kiri helped) into my braids. She giggles when I tell her about my hunts. She smacks my forehead with her palm when I tilt my head the wrong way. She climbs over me in all sorts of odd ways while I wince every now and then at the occasional stepping on of my tail.

“Teyam. Stop looking down!”

Tuktirey huffs and my head snaps up, all my attention shifting to my youngest sibling.

“Ah. sorry tuk-tuk.”

She sighs dramatically and continues stringing the beads into my hair.

I smile at my youngest sister. I was close with Tuk. me and her being the only two children out of my siblings that closely resembled my mother’s na’vi features. I don’t credit myself completely. I don’t think it's fair to say that my mother and fathers genes are divided narrowly. Lo’ak my have my fathers appearance but he wields my mothers rebelliousness with pride. Her survival instincts. Her thrill for a chase. Her fire and her wind. Grandmother always found herself amused whenever my mother found herself annoyed with Lo’aks antics. Apparently my mother was no different when she was his age. Chasing rainstorms and dancing through fire. Grandmother always says lo’ak is my mothers shadow.

Me, on the other hand? i've always strived to be like my father. I still do. I remember sitting around a fire as a small child, listening to stories of his days of battle and heroicness. I don’t glorify my father as much as I did then. But he’s still the same man to me, all the same.

Tuk is in the middle of rambling about her morning gossip she gathered from Popiti, as she strings another bead onto my braids.

It's a bit of a guilty pleasure, I suppose. Being entertained by other’s conflicts.  Certainly not proper behavior for the eldest son of toruk makto. Alas, what kind of big brother would I be if I didn't let Tuk carry herself away with her words without worry?

I can’t hide that I enjoy it. But telling myself its for tuk helps a bit.

“And then what?” I query Tuk softly, urging her to continue her story.

She giggles before placing a green colored bead on my braids.

“Well, Popiti’s big sister, Kyuna, didn’t take Takuk’s courting gift!”

I gasp, over-exaggerating my shock to amuse my younger sister, she nods, equally as shocked.

“I know, right!?”

I shake my head, feining disappointment as Tuk giggles.

“My eywa. Poor Takuk.”

Tuk nods, patting down my braids gently.

I try to look over to my right side at where she sat without turning my head.

“Did she say why?”

Tuk shrugged.

“Popiti heard her mom and Kyuna talking. Kyuna said that she didnt want Takuk for a mate.”

I nod, fidgeting with my beaded choker.

“Huh. Well then, good for Kyuna. She knows what she wants, i guess.”

I trail off with my own internal theories.

I knew Kyuna. She was a young healer in the clan. I didn’t care for her much. She was a bit cocky. Always had some excuse for getting out of tasks she didn’t feel like completing.

I also knew Takuk.

I had been in hunting groups with him. We went through iknimaya training together. He was smart. A fine huner. A decent provider. He seemed like a fine mate for anyone. 

Tuk suddenly gasped, her ears twitching as she stared up at me with her big eyes.

“Teyam! You could be Kyuna’s mate!”

I still at her revelation, she blinks at me with baited breath for  response.

I cant help but chuckle as i ruffle the smaller girl’s braids.

“It's a kind offer, Tuk. But I'm not ready to mate yet. Remember what I told father?” 

Who could forget? The most awkward family dinner in the world where i pleaded with my father to give me more time before I choose a mate. My siblings watching as me and my father bickered for a good hour. I think its really the only time iv’e stood up to him. Disagreed with him. My father has been patient since then when it comes to finding my tsahik. But the only reason he is because of my mother finally convinced him to give it a rest.

Finding a mate can be a long process for some.

I already knew who i wanted my mate to be. There wasn’t any debate. And I will wait for her. I will wait to earn her trust back. For as long as it takes. I will be hers for when shes ready. I am hers even when she’s not. That is a promise I refuse to break.

Tuk huffs.

“But whyyyy? Kyuna is pretty. Not as pretty as mama or kiri or y/n-

But she’s not mated.”

I sigh and gently rub Tuk’s back.

“You’ll understand when you’re older. I promise.”

She huffs again but nods, going back to braiding my hair.

Shes in the middle of telling me about the big fish she caught when my father took her to the creek the other day when my mother enters the tent, a basket of fruits under her arm.

I straighten up a bit and Tuk gasps happily, standing to her feet and jogging over to my mother.

“Mama! You’re back!”

She hugs my mothers waist, and my mother places a hand on tuks head while trying to balance the basket filled to the brim with yovo fruits.

I stand up, gently taking the basket from under her arm, chuckling softly.

“Here, Sa’nok. (mother) Let me take that for you.”

She sighs in releif, nodding at me, now fully embracing tuk with two free arms.

“Irayo (thank you) Neteyam.”

Tuk sits back down in her previous spot and i carry the basket to the small wooden table, placing it down.

“Nice haul today?”

She smiles at me. “The new grove has almost completed its growth cycle. It's almost time for a new harvest.”

I nod, making a mental reminder to tell my father that later so he can organize more foraging groups. 

“Mama, look at how pretty Neteyam is.”

My mother gently examines my newly beaded braids with her fingers, gently taking each braid between her thumb and her palm.

“Very good work, tuktirey. You should help me do mine later. Why don’t you go to your grandmothers tent, hm? I left a large bowl of new beads on the far side corner, near her salve pouch.

Her eyes sparkle and before my mother can say another word, Tuk is racing out of the tent flap.

I laugh along with my mother, and she sits, starting to cut up some fruits.

“Ma’itan, could you help me with this?”

I nod, unsheathing my knife and sitting down next to her, helping her peel some fruits.

A silence fills the air for a moment, until my mothers soft, accented voice breaks through the gray.

“What troubles you, Neteyam?”

Of course she knew.

I was born from the pieces of my mothers ash-littered broken promises and my father’s guilt-ridden internal death sentence. 

My mother and i were tapestries weaved from the same colors.

I am my mother’s son.

She knew me like the back of her hand. She doesn’t have to recognize me by face. I know my father and my mother both love me. But when my mask cracks like this, my mother isn’t like my father. He tries to tighten it to ensure it doesn’t fall down again. My mother tries to mend the cracks.

I sigh, avoiding her gaze.

“Nothing Sa’nok. I am fine.”

I’m a shit liar. That’s just a known fact about me. She knows i’m lying. And maybe thats a good thing. Maybe she knows to just leave it be.

She chucks another fruit skin peel to the side as it forms a small pile with the other discadrded peels. 

“Is it because of your fathers words, yesterday? He was harsh, I know..But he is just afraid, Neteyam.”

That’s not what’s wrong, but I decide it's better than saying ‘hey ma i’m helplessly in love with a woman who probably hates my guts’

Daddy issues it is.

I nod, still avoiding her gaze.

“Yes. I know. Father just wants what's best for us.”

My mother sighs for a moment, pausing her movements, her knife ceasing its carving into the new fruit.

She looks over at me and she smiles.

There’s something about that smile. It’s like an echo that beckons your name. It’s like a face with lines scribbled over it. Sometimes when my mother looks at me I feel as if she’s seeing someone else. Flesh wrapped around the stories foretold under my bones. 

She see’s someone else’s shadow in my place. As if a ghost welcomes itselfinto the sequence of a wreckage of memories unknown to me. 

She speaks quietly.

“Your father and you are more alike than you may think, Neteyam.”

I can’t hep but smile at her words. Theres fanned flowers that grow under the gray cast of gilded clouds under the garden of her irises. She smiles too.

“I mean it, Neteyam. I see more of him in you every day, my son.”

I’m quiet for a moment, but my smile only falters slightly.

“What was he like, my father? When you first met him?”

My mother sighs, the infinite memories flickering past her eyes.

“When I first met your father, I was trying to kill him.”

I can’t help but chuckle. The story all too familiar to me from being told countless times as a child. But it’s not quite what im looking for.

“No, no- i know how you met but-

What was he like? Really?..”

My mother thinks for a moment, not sparing me a glance as she continues cutting her fruit.

“He was stupid. An idiot. I did not think he would survive a single day out here in the forest.”

I hum in agreement trying to visualize everything from her eyes.

“But he was..”

She sighs.

“He was persistent. Like a weak animal with no hope of survival. But it just refuses to die. Sometimes I thought the world moved twice as fast for him..he was eager. To learn, to live. To taste the wind and the sky..”

For a moment, I see a secondary shadow behind the  fragments of my parents love story.

My father told me he felt drawn to my mother from the first moment he saw her.

I see something else in place of the ghost behind the path of stars that led my mother to my father.

I see a man who yearns for a woman. I see a man on his knees, I see his devotion. I see his heart in his hands, i see his stained fingertips of an unfamiliar sleepless skin.

I see a woman so beautiful she might as well be a figment of the moonlight, and i’m jealous of the wind and the air and the breeze because of how easily it touches her skin.

I see her arrow aimed at his heart and the distrust in her eyes. I see her anger, and her betrayal as it echoes through a bitter blue heinous flame.

I see y/n. And I see her wall that kept me out.

I look at my mother, a shell of something that once was taking a new shape.

Was it possible? For history to rhyme?

“How..how long did it take you to love him? Even though he was an enemy.. Even though you didn;t trust him?”

My mother is silent for another moment.

She gently places her knife down, placing her hands on her thighs as she stared at the blank tented wall infront of her.

“I think it was foretold by the stars, ma’itan.

I hated him. I hated him because of what he was and where he came from. I hated his false demon body and i hated the way he walked, and talked. I hated his hair and his hands and his eyes. 

I hated him because of what his people took from me. I hated him because of the pain they caused my people..

The day I found him in the forest i was going to kill him. My arrow was aimed at his heart. But when the great mother spoke to me I knew better than not to listen.

I think i was always meant to meet him. To teach him my people’s ways..Because it led me to loving him. 

That morning when I returned from the tree of souls with him, 

My mother had told me if i choose this path, to be his mate, i could never be tsahik.

I told her, "He was my path.”

I’m still as i take in my mother’s words. But the clouds still creep behind my uncertain heartbeat.

“But hometree. And the war. How did you forgive him?”

My mother gently takes my hand in hers, and she takes a breath

“Ma’itan. You will someday learn that love is not easy. It is hungry. It is impatient. It is loud and it is often hidden.

Love gave me many gifts. You, your siblings, my home and my family.

But it has taken much from me all the same. 

Love is like swimming in the ocean at night. It's deep, it's dark, the shallows far from reach. But Within that darkness I found your father. I found my light, and someday you will find yours.”

Love is sacrificial. My mother was right. Love isnt easy. Love is sometimes caged and flightless, thick with bitter scents and tearstained starlight. Its bare, and its real, its bruised and blemished and its beautiful because its her. Its Y/n. My y/n. Her name is a hymn of scattered prayers lost to a dreaded dawn and a coppered colored sun. She’s made of every broken and perfect piece of the universe and the stars stumble over their words to describe her beauty

She’s the moon and i’m the sun. Withering myself away every night to allow her to shine. 

I will sacrifice. I will work. 

She has weakened me. The night sky canvases her skin while the bleakness of sunlight mosaics mine. Famined for her touch, I refuse to look away. I refuse to blink. The sky is a game of chance and the sunset swallows me whole. The scarlet screams in the hellish hues of cerise ablaze under her skin.

I will not settle for anything less than her.

Love is sacrificial. Then i will steal the night sky for her.

I softly smile at my mother before squeezing her hand.

“Thank you, mother.”

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

(Y/n’s pov) 

Love was a funny thing.

You used to think your love for neteyam was forged from heartbeat-rhythmed nightskies and dripping orange soaked sunsets.

It was dreamlike. Bleeding through every crevice and hidden place with its incandescence. 

He was a part of you. Apart of everything you were and everything you did.

He was in your dreams when you closed your eyes at night.

He was in the shied morning sun rays that crept over the mountain tops. He was in the wild winds and draped under midnight melodies.

Its the memories of smaller things you remember most. 

Giggling while he fumbled with an arrow when he noticed you were watching him practice. 

Helping Neytiri stitch together his cummerbund to gift to him when he had completed his iknimiya. You remember the look of pride in his eyes when he wore a piece of your handiwork to represent this new chapter in his life. Concluding his training as a hunter, and becoming a warrior.

You remember taking walks with him through the forest, and the way he would hold a branch back out of your way.

You remember hunting with him, and racing him down the trailed path. 

You remember perching on a branch and watching the stars with him. You remember his warmth as he whispered to you all the constellations his father taught him. You remember his hands gently guiding yours to trace the patterns scattered among the stars.

You remember a spark.

And then, you remember a gust of wind that dulled the warmth.

Distance. You can recall distance.

It started out small.

Frequent training with his father.

Watching his siblings.

Hunting. Preparing. Working. 

His touch became something you started to crave. Not something that came granted. You remember waiting for him. Waiting for him to return from his hunt, waiting to go stargazing. Liek he promised. You remember checking the sky, the scarlet and blue collide to signify the subduing trials of daylight making its exit.

You remember your mother asking you what you were doing outside.

“Waiting.”

Is all you responded.

You didn’t tell her what you waited for.

Waiting.

Waiting.

Waiting.

He never showed up.

As the sky darkened, it started to rain.

There weren't any stars that night anyways. spider dragged you back inside. Complaining about how he wasn’t taking care of you if you got sick. 

Maybe it wasn't rain at all. Maybe the stars didn't come out that night because they were too busy falling through the cracks left in your heart.

You felt forgotten. Unloved. Unwanted.

Lo’ak told you that Jake was always on Neteyam’s ass about his training, and thats why he was so distant.

But it wasn’t just the distance.

His eyes no longer brightened when he looked at you. Its the gaze you give someone when they’re speaking to you, and you aren’t really listening. You’re just waiting for them to be done talking.

Spider watched you come home and cry one night, listened to you scream into your palms and rant angrily for hours about the boy who broke your heart.

Then, the night the sky turned red, a new kind of broken was born.

You remember hearing the whooshing of wings and panicked shrieks of stray ikrans, The unfamiliar scent of something metallic and sulfured. 

You remember running into the morning that barely crept ist light over the canopy tips, the still dark sky like a cloak encased the world.

You remember finding your mothers songcord on the ground. You remember finding her body. You remember seeing your fathers not but a few feet away.

You remember the feeling of the air being mercilessly ripped from your lungs.

You remember Jake running towards you, his own panic flooding your ears as he begged you to leave with him. That it wasn’t safe there.

He had to drag you away, holding you tight to him as you practically collapsed into his chest in the front of his ikran. 

You remember stumbling into the village upon return, Neytiri catching you in her arms and the blurred sight of her own tear stained face as she cupped your face in her hands. You screamed and cried and fell to your knees as Lo’ak rushed to your side, shushing you gently and rubbing your back.

You remember showing spider the song chord.

You think he cried harder than you did. You both lost your family that day.

You remember the hollowness in the cup of your palm as neteyam held your hand. 

You remember when he gifted you that spiral under the starlight.

You always thought he was the sun. And now you know for sure.

Forever out of your reach. Aching for the stretches of salvageable warmth blessed upon your finger tips. You could chase it to the ends of Pandora but every night it would abandon you. 

You loved him even if you didn’t know what he was.

Like the sky he was a mystery. Endless but in the midst of the universe it held many treasures he swore he kept just for you. Songs of starlight and supernovas.

You reached for nothing. Hoping to grab the sky and pull yourself into his light. Feel the sunlight on your palm and chase it like the golden hour was a game of chance. 

But now, you knew for sure he was the sun.

But he wasn’t your sun.

This sun was made of stone. It was heavy and roughed. 

The sky was no longer a mystery. The sun no longer honeyed your skin in favor. Tragedy prevailed the night sky and when his blanket of warmth tried to regain its sanctuary of safety to encase your tainted trust, all you saw was a trail of falling stars you called rain and broken promises.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

One of your tasks is to teach the younger children of the clan.

You didn’t mind it much. You often found it quite enjoyable.

You beat out most of the young warriors in your group when the clan was discussing who would train the young warriors. Only the best archer of your age group would have such a role.

It was down to you and a girl named Kyuna. She was skilled, but you were better

You chuckle as the little ones scurry past you, little shrieking giggles as they place their practice bows in a pile. 

You doubted yourself. You doubted your ability to train those younger than you.  What reasons can you give them for fighting when your own was grief?

Seeing the children and watching them learn gave you hope. Hope for a better future. 

The lessons today seemed to drag on. The thought of Neteyams words had lingered in your mind since last night. 

You sighed to yourself softly as you started to gather all the bows in a basket. Letting your thoughts run free.

“Need help with that?”

You swung yourself around, a hand instinctively resting on the top of your knife sheath, 

You found yourself face to face with a slightly taller na’vi boy. His braids to his shoulders. His smile hatched itself on baited breath, his white freckles that scattered across his face.

“Makeyo. For eywa’s sake don’t sneak up on me like that.”

He chuckled in mock surrender, throwing his hands up.

“I know better than to mess with the mighty Y/n. Don’t want to end up with an arrow in my neck.”

You roll your eyes and shoved him playfully.

Makeyo was one of your fathers students. He was a skilled archer, often competing with Neteyam. You grew closer after your parents death. Makeyo was your partner when lt came to training the younger children of the clan. Having already completed his iknimiya, and being a strong piece of the people, he was perfect for assisting you with your role.

“Great practice today, huh?”

The two of you found yourselves chatting while you walked back to the supply tent to return the arrows.

You nodded.

“Ya’here is getting better. Her form has improved.”

He smiled at you, his tail gently brushing your thigh.

“She’ll make a fine warrior one day. She always tells me she wants to be just like you?”

You try to hide the small shock that jolted through you at the sudden contact, with an awkward smile.

“Well, thats scary as shit.”

He raised a brow.

“Why?”

You shrugged.

“Knowing she wants to be just like me? I’m a wreck.”

He sighs, holding the tent flap open for you.

“Well, I think you’re perfect.”

The world seems to still for a moment, and your body feels stiff.

“You’re brave. And strong, and honorable…”

He took a step forward. 

“You’re passionate, and you care for others. Especially those kids.”

He gently places a hand on your arm, its firm, but its not demanding.

You feel your breath hitch, and your tail flicks behind you.

“Makeyo. We shouldn’t-”

“Are we intruding?”

You turn to see spider and Lo’ak.

Lo’ak glares at Makeyo, and spider marches in between the two of you, his smaller frame seemingly less intimidating, but you appreciate the effort.

“All right back it up lover boy.

No no, farther than that. far enough that i don’t smell your lack of personal space.”

Spider tugs at your wrist, shooing Makeyo away.

You groan, smacking  spider with your tail.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Makeyo.”

Makeyo nods, waving awkwardly to spider and lo’ak before making his exit.

“Uh huh. Keep it moving.”

Lo’ak ushers him away and you hiss at both of them.

“Hey. Dumb and dumber. what the fuck?”

You glare.

Spider throws his hands up in surrender, shaking his head.

“I don’t like that guy, sis.”

The three of you start making your way back towards the sully tent for the night.

You bickered the whole way.

Spider sighs,pointing his thumb in the opposite direction. 

“All i’m saying is, big mac over there-”

“His name is Makeyo.”

Spider shrugs.

“Same thing-

But anyways. I don’t like him.”

Lo’ak nods.

“He’s desperate. He wants you bad.”

You roll your eyes.

“Makeyo was just being nice.”

Lo’ak scoffs.

“Y/n, I love you. I really do. But if that’s nice, then flirting might mean getting you pregnant.”

Spider jumps and smacks the back of Lo’ak’s head, making him stumble and wince.

“Son of a bitch-

What was that for!?”

Spider glares at the taller blue boy. 

“Don’t jinx it! I’m not ready to be an uncle!?”

“Who’s going to be an uncle?”

Its the moment you hear Jake’s voice the three of you realize you’ve stumbled into the Sully's tent.

The three of you look at one another, then back at Jake.

Spider whistles, pointing to an imaginary watch.

“Oh boy. Would you look at the time? Time for me to go meet norm for dinner…I’ll catch you guys later.”

Lo’ak calls spider a bitch under his breath for abandoning the two of you two deal with the heap of awkwardness.

Jake resumes his task and Neytiri’s voice calls from inside.

“Lo’ak, Y/n. come on, its time to eat.”

You make your way inside, and Neytiri and Kiri come into view, steaming some meat over a fire.

Kiri waves and jogs her way over to give you a hug, her only slightly taller frame pressed against yours.

“Hey. how was your day?” She hums, tucking a braid behind your ear.

Kiri’s voice was melodic and soothing. It drips like the dew drops onto morning grass, kissed by the forest scent.

You go to answer, but before you can you’re body slammed by a smaller na’vi.

“Y/n! You’re back!”

It only takes a blink of an eye for you to open your arms for her, picking her up and putting her on your hip.

“Hey Tuk! How’s my sweet girl?”

Tuk giggles and nuzzles her head onto your neck.

Lo’ak rudley pushes his way between you and kiri.

“Excuse me, don’t i get a hug?”

He huffs dramatically, flipping his braids like some sort of diva.

“Of course you can, Ma’itan.” Neytiri appears behind him and kisses his head. You and the girls giggle and Lo’ak groans.

“Maaa. come on-”

He swats neytiri away and she chuckles, giving you a quick shoulder squeeze next.

“Did your lessons go okay today? How were the children?”

You take a seat next to Kiri, Lo’ak on your other side as Neteyam takes a seat next to Tuk, 

You nod in response to Neytiri as Jake hands everyone a piece of meat.

“Doing well. They are making progress. They are learning faster every day. I think they will be ready to try larger arrows soon. Possibly farther targets.”

Jake pats your back.

“Nice work, kiddo.”

“Speaking of targets...”

Lo’ak mumbles under his breath,you respond by smacking him with your tail.

“What?”

Kiri raises an eyebrow.

Lo’ak shrugs.

“Makino or whatever his name is was flirting with Y/n.”

Kiri smiles at you, gently shaking your shoulder.

“Makeyo? He is a fine warrior.”

You groan, not noticing how Neteyams ears pinned back slightly.

“Makeyo?”

His deep, accented voice pulls your focus towards where the boy sat.

All the sudden the space arounds you feels a bit shallow. Lo’ak answers for you.

“Oh yeah. He was really quite brave. He wouldn't have been so brave if he knew me and spider were planning to feed him to a thanator.”

Jake sighs.

“Must we plot a murder at the dinner table?”

Neytiri nods, swallowing her food and handing a piece of her fruit to Tuk.

“Your father is right. Besides, There is no rush for any of you to mate. Y/n, Makeyo would make a fine life partner but you need not decide anytime soon, my sweet.”

Tuk pipes up suddenly.

“Teyam is gonna be mated with kyuna!”

Neteyam nearly spits out his water, going into a coughing fit as he repeatedly brings his fist to his chest to attempt to stop it.

Jake immediately started patting his back, concerned.

“Jesus christ boy! Easy now, don’t forget to swallow.”

“You have chosen Kyuna?”

It comes out more bitter than you thought. The mere thought of another woman in his arms stinging an unfamiliar scorch in your chest,

Or maybe..it wasn’t so unfamiliar.

Neteyam finally breathes normally again and shake his head frantically.

‘“What? No! Of course not.”

“Kyuna? Really bro? Shes kinda a bitch…”

Lo’ak says, attempting to mask it with his own fake cough.

“Hey. Language.”

Jake scolds, pointing his knife he was using to cut Tuk’s meat with at Lo’ak.

“Its true though! She’s always hustling me to do her chores!”

Neytiri raises her eyebrow.

“If it happens repeatedly why do you keep falling for it?”

Lo’ak had no answer.

Kiri clicked her tongue.

“Y/n, didn’t you overrun Kyuna’s role for training the younger children.”

“Oh yeah! That's right! Y/n made her eat dust in that archery trial. No surprise there.”

You felt a small heat spread to your cheeks out of embarrassment.

“It wasn’t that big of a deal…”

Neytiri chuckles and Neteyam speaks up.

“so..Makeyo. You work with him?’

You nod.

“He helps me train the younger group of children. He’s actually quite helpful.

You didn’t notice the way neteyams ears pinned back slightly.

But Lo’ak did.

“Yeah. But he sucks at Ikran riding.” 

You raised your eyebrow. 

Come to think of it, You don’t think you ever saw him ride his ikran.

“He is?”

Lo’ak nods.

“He and Neteyam went hunting one time. The idiot crashed into a tree while neteyam swerved it easily.”

You can’t help but laugh at the image, and Lo’ak winked at neteyam.

☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾𖤓 ⋆⁺₊⋆☾𖤓✮⋆⁺₊⋆ 

Authors note:

HOLY FUCKKKK! I’m finally done! This actually did not take as long as i thought it would. 

It’s not as long as the last chapter ya’ll i’m sorry. But hopefully the close times in which both were posted makes up for it?

We’re gonna get some kiri and y/n bonding time in next chapter and hopefully some more jealous neteyam. Btw what did we think of the neteyam pov? Leave some comments about it so i can know whether to add it in later.

Taglist:

@mntx666

@isnt-itstrange

@thebestrouge

@bay7let

@fairuzwhat

@jackiehollanderr

@6423btw

@satesatesate2009

[casmiick]

sleepover at snorkmaidens ^_^

[enbyleighlines]

I’ve been re-watching the 90’s Moomin anime and I started at the beginning bc I knew I hadn’t seen all of them but I forgot where I stopped

But in any case, episode 65 was sooo cute, esp if you’re a Springtime Trio shipper like me

Like, it literally ends with the three of them going on a romantic boat ride

Plus, Snufkin’s reaction to Moomintroll’s Tarzan costume was too funny. At first he didn’t even react at all, which was a bit strange, but then he pointed it out at the oddest moment.

But my fav part was probably when Snufkin comes out behind a tree to surprise Snorkmaiden, greeting her like she’s a princess.

He’s always such a gentleman with her, and I’m sad we don’t get more interactions between the two of them. They’re really such good friends.

This trio has my whole heart

[kingofthe-egirls]

SUN GOD AU: LUFFY x Y/N (part 3)

part 1 part 2

originally requested by @braini-wiz

(cw: fully lore about what characters would be gods of what, slight asl trio setup, slight zolu, poetry as always)

(a/n: idk idk i can't get to the smut im so sorry)

Songs: "Unknown / Nth" by Hozier

words: 1.1k

****

It stings,

becoming a

goddess.

****

Sun god—dess ?

¿ ..,

* *

I—

heat—

squirm

_ ,

in place

¿

where am i?

, !

. ,

wings.

****

“She’s alive!!!”

Luffy shouts, from somewhere overhead. Speaking of, your head is killing you. You scrunch your face against the bright sunshine searing orange onto your eyelids. You sit up, woozy. Are you…are you drunk?

No, worse.

Celestial.

“Shit…,” you mutter, swinging your legs off the bench you’ve been laying on. Something rocks the world sideways, and you gasp.

“Nyoop!” Luffy says as he catches you, midfall. You thunk your head against his chest. You’re so loose, and…heavy. You scrub a fist into your eyes. And then,

you stop.

Oh!

Oh.

“Oh, shit,” you say again, staring at the hottest person you’ve seen in your fucking life. This has been Nika the whole time?!

You stumble to your feet, your weight supported by the sun god of your dreams. “S-sorry!” You say, but the word is sour on your tongue. It doesn’t…fit, anymore.

After all, what have you to be sorry for?

And just like that, it’s gone.

Shame.

Shackles.

A skeleton that is made of bone instead of gold, blood that is not ichor, courage that is human and only ever human, melts away.

You are powerful.

You are strong.

You are as radiant as the sun.

Sun incarnate stands beside you, smiling at your newfound face. It’s the same, but it’s…shinier. Faster.

If that makes sense?

It doesn’t,

but

(that’s okay).

****

The sun goddess has wings.

Gold leaf and elaborate, they stretch out behind you like a monarch butterfly’s. You flap them experimentally, and find yourself floating several inches off the ground. You realight back onto the deck of the ship—for that’s where you are—and suddenly find yourself surrounded by people.

“So…what happens now?”

The sun god beside you laughs, squeezing your warmth into his side. You’re warmer, somehow.

“Now…,” he smiles dazzlingly, two inches from your face. “We say hi!”

The people (gods) gathered around the two of you smile and introduce themselves. Luffy whispers his relationship to them as they speak.

“Nami,” a slender, orange-haired goddess smiles at you. She has a logpose on her wrist. Her skin is smattered in flecks of constellational gold. Navigation, currency, stars.

Sister.

“Nico Robin!” Luffy says, smiling as he gestures toward the mysterious, dark-haired woman in a blue dress. Archeology, historical scriptures, stones.

Sister.

“Ace,” someone who smiles almost as wide as Luffy, shakes your hand with a warm fist. He’s even warmer than you are, now. “Fire, fistfights, and protecting your elders,” he grins.

He smells like cinnamon, too.

“He’s my brother!” Luffy says proudly. “And so is Sabo!”

Another handsome, blond man steps up to shake your hand. His is strong, tough yet flexible. He’s wearing a blue suit, with a strange hat atop his head. He bows, slightly. His lips brush the backs of your knuckles.

“Revolutions, secrets, obsessions,” he introduces his godly dominions with a strange smile on his wide face.

You trust him,

but also

don’t.

“Usopp’s here too! And Sanji, my friends,” Luffy leads you over to a charming male with dark skin and a kerchief around his hair. He’s toying with a slingshot in between dexterous hands. The god of snipers smiles at you sweetly.

Sanji (pale skin, yellow hair, swirly brows) is a chef god, someone who loves the sea and seafood and making girls cum. Oh, he says it with such a blush. Your wings flutter, stardust sparkling off them.

You are the goddess of springtime.

Of dawns and new beginnings.

Of song.

Sweetheart.

“I always did like ya singin’,” Luffy says quietly as he leads you away from the group. There’s another god: a strong, stoic man sitting with his back against the mast, his hands behind his mossy green head.

“Swordsman,” you say, curtsying slightly. This god is like a sleeping tiger. You are afraid of getting bit.

“Zoro,” he says his own name without opening his eyes, or barely even moving his face.

Luffy is undeterred, or else doesn’t care, because he lands in Zoro’s lap to place a kiss on his face. “Zoro’s my first mate!”

He stares cheekily up at you, capuchin smile plastered across his squishy face. You wrap a lock of hair around your finger, twirling it nervously. “S-so nice to meet you,” you stutter out, suddenly cowed by this samurai’s presence.

Swords, sacrifice.

Promises.

First mate.

Luffy squeezes your hands in both of his. “Lemme show ya my room,” he says, scanning your face as your anxiety grows.

Silently, you nod.

****

Luffy leads you across the deck of his sunshine ship, with the figurehead of a sunflower, no—lion.

He opens his captain’s quarters for you, letting you step inside first.

“So…,” he starts, suddenly shy as he watches you twirl around his room. “Whaddya think?”

“I think it’s lovely,” you smile at him, all floaty with your newfound goddess-ness.

“Springtime suits ya,” he says, stepping forward to skim his knuckles down your arms. “Sing for us sometime too, yeah?” He smiles dazzlingly down at you, his face suddenly mere inches from your own.

“Kiss me, sweetheart?”

He asks, raspy.

Luffy’s lips taste like sunlight.

He groans into the kiss, his hands tightening around your waist. Your chiton is gold now, it seems.

His body is strong, lithe, and muscular as he pushes you backwards onto the bed. He slides between your knees, standing in front of you as he cradles your head.

“Sweetheart,” he whispers, stroking his thumbs along your cheeks, “Stay with me for a while, yeah? Let’s have some adventures, mhm? Say you’ll stay…,” he leans forward to press his forehead against yours. His cloud-like hair squishes against your face.

“Say you’ll protect me first,” you counter, “Say you’ll stay with me.”

He snickers,

and then

he laughs.

“Of course I’ll stay with you!” He shouts, sweeping you up in his arms. He spins you around, and you’re dizzy. From the circles or his scent, you’re not sure. But he sets you down and nuzzles your face, kissing at your cheeks and then your chin.

“I was scared ya wouldn’t stick around,” he scratches the back of his fluffy white head.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You tilt your own godly head, butterfly wings slowly opening and closing behind you.

He scuffs his heel against the floor, sheepish. “Sometimes the priestesses just wanna have sex with me ‘n leave.”

He says it so simply, his heartbreak apparent in every syllable.

“Sorry,” you say, wrapping your hands around his. “Those stupid girls didn’t know what they were missing.”

He stops, stunned.

“Even though m’clumsy and break stuff?” He asks, rosy eyes wide.

You shake your head.

“Who cares? I’m clumsy too,” you smile, tugging his arms so he falls into bed beside you. He lies on his back, so you climb over him.

“So…you’re not gonna leave?” He asks hopefully, flush spreading across his cheeks. You shake your head, straddling his hips. He smiles: a truly bright, delighted smile. Full of pearly, square teeth. “Say you’re my sweetheart, y/n.”

“I’m your sweetheart, sun god.”

“And I’m your captain, spring goddess!”

****

[linkspooky]

Hey! sorry to bother you but after your jjk break down i wanted to know what you think about Shoko and her role in the story. I'm just not sure where to put her narratively.

This is going to be a brief answer, but I believe for her limited screen time she still has an important role in the story and it's the same role she plays in the S / S / S trio. Shoko is the adult, as evidenced here by how she's the only one who undercuts Geto's dramatic monologue to point out how childish he's acting. Unlike Gojo who can't get through to Geto whatsoever, Shoko underlines his problem in one sentence. Geto thinks that he's growing up by finding his purpose in deciding to become an extremist, but Shoko calls him out and says he's actually regressing as a person.

Jujutsu Kaisen is a story about children growing into adulthood, and there's a reason that Shoko is the only person in her class to actually reach adulthood. It's because unlike Gojo and Geto who were eternally trapped in their "springtime of youth" and failed to ever adjust to the trauma they experienced in that youth Shoko grew up.

A character who doesn't grow in a story is as good as dead. Gojo had a character arc, but looking back from beginning to end it almost seems like his death against Sukuna was inevitable because he never learned who he was outside of being the strongest, and he never moved past Geto's death in any real way and tried to make connections with other people.

It's something even Shoko of all people was able to see that Gojo wasn't. That for all of Gojo's claims of being alone, not only did he have Shoko by his side all along, but he also has an entire group of students who he was responsible for who were all relying on him. Gojo could have continued living for them instead of going out in a blaze of glory against Sukuna, but he wasn't able to see all the people in his life until it was too late. He kept on being blind to them because he was trapped in the mindset of his youth that he was too powerful to be understood by anyone and then never grew past that.

Shoko is one of the few teachers left alive at Jujutsu High and that's not a coincidence. Nanami's death is deliberately tragic because he was unable to protect people properly as a sorcerer the system was against him. Shoko's not a fighter on the front lines however, she's a doctor who exists sort of outside that system. Yaga was killed by Gakuganji as well. Haibara died an unfortunate victim in his youth. Geto defected because he was unable to grow up, and Gojo goes out dying against Sukuna in a battle to see who's strongest.

The only teachers who are alive are Kusakabe who's a minor character, Utahime who is the only other adult who shows concern for her students, and Mei Mei. I doubt Mei Mei is going to survive either considering she's the game master (this is just my theory but watch I'm correct).

Which leaves Shoko and Utahime who are both adults, and who also have a much more functional friendship that explicitly parallels Geto and Gojo's. There's a reason Gojo's death dream reverts him back to seventeen years old again, because in a way he didn't grow significantly since that time. Nanami, Gojo, Geto they were all unable to leave the regrets of their youth behind so the last we see them in the imaginary afterlife they are seventeen because that's the time they failed to move past.

Shoko grew up. She and Utahime are the only ones who were able to grow up, and because of that they ended up leaving a lot of their friends behind. I think Megumi and Shoko will parallel each other in the end of Gege decides to stick with his plan of three of the four dieand one lives. Megumi the child that needs to grow up, will be the only one of his friends to reach adulthood just like Shoko.

It will be bittersweet because Megumi won't have his friends with him, but unlike Gojo who was trapped in the past forever, life will go on for Megumi and he'll be able to live with all those losses.

[rorja]

synopsis. you, suguru, and a window left open— or, the soothing lullaby of springtime.

a/n. very much self-indulgent and probably with a lot of mistakes (be patient please, i’ll correct it first thing in the morning!) but i really needed to write a moment of peace after a troubling week…….. also, i’ve been very sick and this is my first attempt at writing after a long time so i apologize if it’s not that good TT — 🐣

it was comforting, watching the thin but sturdy branches of the plum tree stretching to the glittering dots adorning the sky. regulus's fiery mane moving delicately as the evening breeze's note echoed in the air. waking up every sleeping blossom, cradling in a motherly embrace each of its sons and daughters that were yet to be awakened.

spring. where your eyes landed you could spot significant signs of its long awaited arrival, from the night sky to the grass steadily growing inches in your neighborhood's garden. it made a smile bloom on your lips, the same way pink and whiteish buds littered every branch of the plum trees.

you traced the astronomical asterism one more time, drawing an imaginary line that connected the three luminous stars of the evenings to come. an invisible triangle that linked arcturus with spica, just to finish on the other side of the sky and meet with the last component of the brightly lit trio: regulus. many people (and internet. mostly internet) would argue with power points at hand and scientific theories that the white star of denebola was a better choice than regulus. more suited to close the imaginary triangle, resulting in a nearly equilateral one at the price of brightness.

but you didn't care. that place belonged to regulus because that is what you saw the first time you used a telescope. and no one could've made you change your mind, of that you were sure. stubborn just as much over something that wasn't even real but dear to you.

your chest danced slightly— a breathy chuckle finding its way out as you eventually lifted your growing aching arms from the windowsill.

(you know a person who would've found that stubborness of yours endearing.)

a yawn parted your lips and the door cracked open. it had been a long day— a long week even, for both of you of course. but this time around it had been particularly rough for suguru. he was the one to come home with an aching back and tired limbs, though it was not that hard to see how fatigue latched on his body. a voracious snake that found a comfortable nest in between his chest, refusing to leave him alone.

it was the main reason as to why dinner was made a little earlier today and the dishes were left on the counter to dry for the night. you will put them back in the respective cupboard tomorrow as the first thing in the morning. for tonight, you decided to prioritize your rest.

it was also the reason why suguru took a longer-than-usual shower and got out of it only now. the noticeable difference in his shoulders made relief bloom in your chest— no more slumped, or a tad bit droopy but instead relieved, back to their natural stance as if the weight holding them down had been lifted. a minuscule change that probably would have gone unnoticed by others.

he walked toward the bed, phone steady in one hand while typing an answer to satoru and ieiri. it was easy to tell who suguru was writing to. you noticed overtime that when he texted the two of them he wiggled his nose a lot and (if gojo ended up saying something stupid or sending weird memes) his frown lines became more wrinkled, like a child trying to comprehend the meaning of a new word. it was adorable.

you followed his steps, raising the duvets and moving away the excessive amount of pillows on your side of the bed. suguru did the same on his own half.

"satoru giving you a hard time?" a breathy chuckle. he didn't answer, simply shaking his head in resignation and placing the phone on his bedside table before collapsing on the bed with a content exhale. you took that as a sign to join him.

"just satoru being satoru," you didn't fail to notice how his eyes softened when looking at you, "i think yuji should stop teaching him about internet slangs. he's been doing the deez nuts thing for two weeks already"

though there were traces of hopelessness heavily lingering on his words, you couldn't help but notice something else— something that you recognized immediately after as fondness. a familiar feeling that he reserved only for the few people he truly cared about. you didn't even try to stop the laughter bubbling in your chest.

(suguru watched as your eyes crinkled in amusement. the sound of your laughter lulling him to further relieve- soothing away every stubborn trace of stress still sitting heavy in his bones.

spring waltzed from the opened window, attracted by your presence. he couldn't blame it; you were the spring he eagerly looked forward to seeing each day.)

when your laugh eventually dimmed, his phone lightened up with new messages to read. suguru retrieved it and you did the same with yours, wordlessly shifting in a comfortable lull and a familiar embrace. a satisfied hum broke momentarily the blanket of silence falling on the room when you felt his free arm around your shoulders. fingers playing absentmindedly with the strands of your hair, messily splayed on the pillow.

you nuzzled closer to his chest, your cheek now resting on the thin fabric of his white shirt he had been recently using to sleep with. phone clasped in one of your hands while you scrolled mindlessly through the feed of your favorite social media.

and it's gentle. serene. a moment of shared complicity that carried the veiled scent of blossoming flowers and stardust. a needed addition to the relationship that brought somehow a welcomed sense of mundanity.

when suguru eventually fell asleep first, his chin resting on top of your head, you didn't have it in yourself to get up and close the window. too pleasant, too cozy to even entertain the thought of leaving it for a few seconds. you will close it tomorrow, first thing in the morning. as of tonight, you'll let yourself be cradled by the sweet lullaby happening outside that very same window.

(suguru's arms never felt so much like home before.)