Stuck With Me: Peter Parker x OC
Cute Peter Parker slow burn, less spiderman action more just good ol awkward Parker.
Peter has been in a bad mood all month, but with soon to be divorced parents, trying to figure out what's wrong with him is the last thing Lani needs. Thankfully summer break is here. Lani, Ned, Peter, and MJ set off on the summer vacation road trip to California. Drama ensues
đ¸ď¸Chapter 2đ¸ď¸
Chapter 1
Master list
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He left me on read. He never does that, like ever. My thoughts begin to wander to attempt to make evenly winged eyeliner.
So much for keeping it positive.
Intrusive thoughts pile up in my mind. I'm not dumb enough to really believe that Peter now hates the mere thought of me; but the little "read" under my text makes me anxious all the same.
I being wracking my brain. Thinking of everything I have said to him in the past weeks. I mean maybe I said something to make him upset or did something and just not realize it. But honestly, it only makes me smile as I recall the jokes we cracked and fun we all have had. Nothing bad is really coming to mind.
My screen is still void of any text notifications.
I check my refection in the mirror, smiling. I usually try to stay positive when it comes to my appearance. And I definitely can't complain of how my butt looks my black maxi skirt. I adjusted my white crop top, making sure the tiny cross stitched spider was visible. After a quick click of my off brand Dock Martins I decided humidity was a virtue and mirror time was over.
It was already 5:15, I didn't feel quiet ready but Ned would be waiting.
~15 minutes later~
"GET IN LOSER WE ARE GOING SHOPPING!" I yell as Ned walks down the apartment stairs.
He gets in the car "Hey."
"Hey." My smile drops and I hope it's subtle. The tone of his voice worried me. Silence between us is uncommon. I squirm a bit in my seat.
Seeing as he isn't going to make conversation, I speak up.
"Did you get the texts from me and Michelle?" I say.
"Yeah, I have no idea what's wrong with him. Maybe we will figure out tonight" he says quickly, shrugs and looks out the window. Silence fills the car again.
I know you can't sound like anything over text, but Ned sounded a lot peppier when we were messaging. What was going on with my friends?
"We should go see a movie after."Â I make a lame attempt to kindle a conversation.
Ned seems to perk up a bit at this.
"Yes! The Joker is out!"
I laugh at this, I'd never been much for DC superhero comics. Especially when they are made up. It didn't really make a lot of sense why someone would make up a superhero and a supervillain when there are plenty to choose from that are real. Movie production companies have tried to profit off of rising superhero stars. The movies are never as good as the up close and real action.
I shrug "I'll see whatever you want bubby."
He winces at 'bubby' and goes back to looking out the window.
I feel my face getting hot. Ok mental note, after being called bubby for 3 years Ned now doesn't like it.
WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON WITH MY FRIENDS! Blasts in my mind. My only hope now was that Michelle was normal.
___
To my relief she was. We got to the diner at 6:04, Michelle sitting down at our usual table in the back. We try to sit in the back as to not disturb other customers. Our laughs are usually boisterous and frequent not to mention the cheeky jokes. And all being on the decathlon team, heated arguments or "debates" on some old dudes theories or such tend to heated. But we are high tipping customers so we don't worry about it too much.
"Hey guys surprised to see you have made it here alive." She jokes.
"I don't know where you got that I was a bad driver!" I motion for Ned to take a seat before I slide in next to him.
"Oh I think you know." She winks.
"what?" I look at her, perplexed before she shakes her head.
"Speak of the devil" she said just as Peter walks through the door.
The little bell at the top of the door gives a joyful ring. Peter flinches but his body quickly moved back into its slightly hunched position with a frown on his face. Oh great.
"Hey Peter!" I say as he sits down next to Michelle.
He looks into my eyes and gives a slight smile. But says nothing.
A waiter soon comes around with menus "Can I get you started off with anything to drink?"
"I will have a coke." Michelle starts.
"Same." Peter mumbles.
"Sprite." Says Ned cheerfully.
"Tea for me please and thank you." I say brightly, I had to stay positive. I am with my friends to get away from negativity, not have more of it.
Once the waiter left we all began talking. Peter slowly starts engaging more, and it seems to feel right again. Something about him is definitely off; though that does make me very worried about him, I know now was not the time to ask. I will just do my best to cheer my moody friend up.
I smile, mentally stepping back from the conversation, contentment filled my heart. There is nowhere I would rather be and no group of people I would rather be with. I mean they are the only friends I have...
Good Eats has become a favorite of ours. We started eating here for dinner or after school almost every weekend, for about 3 years now. It was cheap for the quality of simple yet delicious diner food. But it's usually pretty quiet in the eveningsâ (we learned the hard way to avoid it during the mornings where the line is out the door.) âa steady stream of customers usually taking things to-go. Which I don't get, a big part of this place being great is the aesthetic. It reminds me of a 70s diner and most likely opened then. Yellow booths, a jute box always playing great oldies music, kinda ugly wallpaper, and warm lighting. And the store owner is a really nice guy. He usually brings his grandkids. It's always funny when you get rung up by a 10-year-old or have your water refilled by a 7-year-old. Since we have been coming for so long so often, the owner has a special discount for us "I've got to treat my best customers right!"Â he always says I'm pretty sure it's just a %10 student discount. We usually tip as much much as we can.
I snapped back into reality when I heard my name. I didn't really know who it came from.
"What?" I said shacking my head out of the clouds.
"We were asking about the van. Summer break is almost here, when is Caroline gonna be ready?" Ned asks
"Oh right, I would say just in time for school to let out." I say.
We have been planning our summer break since school started this year. It will be our last summer vacation ever, so it had to be epic. I always get excited butterflies from it, but it is usually mixed with dread too. Dread because I know when I get home my parents will be officially divorced. Not that I haven't known this was coming or that it needs to happen. It definitely does, I have a cup bruise on the side of my head to prove it.
No, nope stop! I feel my eyes watering. Internally I let out a big sigh. This summer vacation has to be perfect. I don't know what I will do if it's not.
"Alright let's go over the plans one last time," Peter says.
I smile reaching into my purse, and pull out a small, light pink, piece of paper. 1-10 lists of things we need to do while we are in California. We had decided a beach trip is definitely what we need.
I clear my throat and begin to read.
1. start off at Stark Tower to go over things with Tony such as Hotels, food reservations, and tickets
Did I mention all of this was Peter's early birthday gift from TS himself. We are all pretty jazzed. And by that I mean we about shit our pants when Peter told us.
2. head out across the country stopping at the finest Tony Stark hotels (hotels with penthouse suites that Tony has frequent so much he just straight up bought the hotels.)
3Â get to LA and check out our crib
4. beach
5. Disney Land
6. More beach
7. eat at a super fancy restaurant
8. ruins of Mr. Stark's Malibu mansion
9. Santa Monica Pier
10. hike to the Hollywood sign
It was a packed summer for sure, but it had to be the best, it just had to be. My last slice of happiness before I move away with my mom, before I move from Queens to which ever relative my mom decides to move close to. Away from all of my friends, who are more of a family then my real ones. Who have gotten me through so much, stuck by my side through it all. And even feeling upset makes me feel like I'm a monster. I want to support my mom, but I don't want this! I don't want to be away from them. Away...I hate that word.
"You ok La?" Ned asks his hand rests on my back, lightly rubbing it.
My cheeks grow warm with embarrassment- I was crying. And of course Ned's kind questioning made more tears flow. I quickly wipe my eyes with my sleeve, and give a quick fake smile to my friends. They look concerned, except Peter. He looks almost angry, this made me cry more. Amazing.
"Yeah I'm fine. I-uh-i yawned." I stammer, I yawned wtf, who would believe that?!
"What the hell Lani?! No one's yawns make them cry that much." Michelle said, her voice rose she was almost laughing at the dumb lie that came out of my mouth. But I knew she was just concerned.
Ned quickly drops his hand from my back, my head instinctively turning towards him. He's looking at Peter.
"I'm fine I, I-just." I paused. I had told them about my parents getting a divorce, but not much. More importantly, I hadn't told them I was moving, and I wasn't planning on it till the trip is over. If they knew it would just ruin the whole trip for me. Not to mention I was so scared to even say it out loud, it would just make it seem more real. I tried my hardest to not think about it ever. Yea I know it's is unhealthy, but it's how I'm coping now. Might as well let future Lani deal with it.
"It's just my parents divorce, it's getting close to the last of all the court stuff. I just, can't stop thinking about it." My face continued the hot embarrassed sensation. I felt my under arms tingle and I could feel their eyes in me. My eyes stayed glued on my hands like my left depended on it.
There was a small pause. Oh gosh this is embarrassing.
"Lani, no madder what, you will always have us. We love you." Michelle finally said. Her tender words caught me off guard.
I looked back at her, giving a genuine smile "Thanks, that means a lot."
But the little voice in the back of my mind kept screaming Except they won't always be there for you.
"Are you guys ready to order?" We all jumped a bit as the waiter had finally returned to serve us. She placed each of our drinks in front of us.
After we ordered I had asked if we could just forget I said anything, what I needed was a fun night with my friends. They all agreed and once Ned had brought up The Joker, a new conversation sprung. I was just happy to not discuss anything family related.
___
Once we had all gotten and eaten our food, we decided to head to the movie theater to watch The Joker.
"Ok how about Peter pays for drink, Ned pays for Popcorn, and Lani pays for the tickets?" Michelle suggests as we walk into the theater.
"Um, that's convenient, seeing as you pay for nothing." Said Peter, slightly annoyed "and we should all pay for our own tickets, they are too expensive for Lani to pay for alone."
Michelle give a little snicker before we all decide it was every man for himself/herself.
I walk up to the counter, and smile brightly at the young man at the register. "Four tickets for The Joker, please and thank you."
"Sorry The Joker is sold out." He replies in a monotone voice.
"What?!" Ned exclaimed "but- I just checked online like 5 hours ago."
"Sorry The Joker is sold out" he repeats in the same voice. I don't blame him, he has probably had to say this so many people tonight.
"Hey, guys it's fine we can just pick another movie!" I say trying to lift their spirits.
"It 2 is out." Michelle offers.
Oh no
"Yeah I'm down" says Ned.
Oh no
"Yeah me too" says Peter.
Shit
Three pairs of eyes look at me. I give a sheepish smile. I get scared very easily, they know this, but I'm willing to take one for the team... even if it means I won't sleep for a few da-weeks. "Yes, let's go see It 2" I say in a fake enthusiastic tone.
I turn back to the man at the register "um, four for... It 2 please."
___
The theater is completely empty, which makes it about 1099999373783298xs more scary. It's a pretty popular movie so the rows of seats absent of people makes it feel like the twilight zone. We look around, deciding to sit in the far back.
I see Peter hanging back, walking slowly behind us. Strategically, I begin to slow my pace; slipping behind MJ to sit beside Peter. If there is anything that will distract me from the killer clown, it's Peter. We enter the row and settled in. And Peter grabs my hand.
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Master list
Stuck With Me: Peter Parker x OC Book 1
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
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No cause this means that when Gamora heard Groot and understood him, SHE WAS A MEMBER OF THE FAMILY AGAIN
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ok but what i love abt gotg3 is that the big task that all superheroes need to accomplish in a film for the Greater Good (e.g. gotg 1 it was stopping ronan, endgame was defeating thanos) wasn't actually for the Greater Good, it was to save a friend. like in so many films its like i have to save the world or whatever but gotg3 shows that one person can be worth the world. and ofc when push comes to shove they work for the Greater Good but that wasn't the purpose. the purpose was to save a friend. this film isnt abt superheroes being superheroes .its abt friends being friends.
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Guardians of the Galaxy is the story of a Racoon who flies a space ship and it had me sobbing on the floor.
Itâs about outcasts, overcoming abuse, learning to love yourself and those around you.
Itâs about forgiveness and guilt and family.
Itâs about all the ludicrous little details surrounding life that make it bearable.
Itâs about the greatest Racoon you will ever encounter and itâs a masterpiece.
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the luckiestÂ
part one.Â
summary:Â you consider yourself a generally unlucky person, but when you meet peter parker it becomes even more apparent that the universe hates you.
warnings: past trauma, death, grief, self-conciousness, thereâs a fire, and spider-man, fluff, angst, all thatÂ
a/n: so technically i lied because itâs 3 in the morning. but here you go. disreguard all of the bad parts until i have a chance to go throw and fix it tomorrow. love yaÂ
*
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Waiting patiently. This is so good omgg!!!
Infinitely You pt.9
Previous Part -
Pairing(s) - Tom!Peter, Andrew!Peter, Tobey!Peter x Reader
Word Count - 7.8k
Summary - In every universe you are the one person Peter Parker will always love more than anything; unfortunately, he always realizes it too late. Now that they've been granted a second chance none of them are willing to miss out on finally making things right.
Warnings - death, mentions of suicide, lots of angst
gentle reminder - reblogs, comments, and feedback are the best way to support writers on tumblr :)
name key: tom!peter = peter ; andrew!peter = paker ; tobey!peter = pete
Since talking to Electro, something in the world had shifted, or at the very least, something in my corner of it had. Even with the ongoing presence of numerous uncertainties and threats, it felt as if I had suddenly shed a weight that I hadnât even known I was carrying.Â
Gone were the days of allowing myself to hide behind Spider-Man. I refused to waitâfor protection, for information, for anything. I had allowed myself to become overly reliant on him, a choice that used to make sense.Â
In the past, my only relation to danger had been knowing Peter, getting caught up in the midst of Avengers threats and Spider-Manâs enemies; and while thatâs how this situation had begun, it was different now.Â
I was no longer in jeopardy just for knowing Spider-Man, just for knowing Peter Parker. If Strangeâs theories were correct, then I was in danger just for existing.Â
And while I knew that Peter would go to the ends of the Earth to save meâall three of themâI refused to stand around and wait. Going to the Sanctum alone had taught me something crucial, a lesson that I hoped would serve us well as we continued this fight.Â
I was capable.Â
âItâs really not that big of a deal.âÂ
âNot that big of a deal?âÂ
Anger reverberated through his body, fists clenched at his sides as he paced along the edge of the rug that lined the living room floor. He was furious, the kind of overwhelming rage that had your face turning red and left a pounding in your temples.Â
In my opinion, telling him about my little day trip to the Sanctum Sanctorum had been a complete and utter mistake. What Peter didnât know wouldnât hurt him, especially since I had managed to come out unscathed.Â
But Parker refused to lie to the others about my whereabouts, no matter how hard I tried to convince him to see things my way. He was firm on his stance, stating that he wanted there to be a sense of trust between all of us, one that most certainly would be broken if the others found out he was hiding things on my behalf.Â
Ultimately, though, I found him to be quite the hypocrite on this. For someone who claimed to be so against dishonesty, he certainly hadnât divulged any details from the last part of our trip to the Sanctum.Â
If it werenât for the fact that I wasnât any more willing than him to tell Peter that we had kissed, then I would have called him out on it.Â
âSo let me get this straight,â he halted his rapid movements for a moment, shooting a glare in my direction as he began his speech, âyou lied to us, went out completely unprotected, convinced Ned to go along with your insane plan, and then went into a basement filled with people that couldâand probably want toâkill you, all because you wanted to have some stupid conversation with a guy that could literally electrocute you.âÂ
âShe also lied to the wizard.â Parker chimed in, a futile comment that did little other than agitate me, only adding more fuel to an already raging fire. I turned my head to glance at him as he sat on the couch beside me, urging him to keep his mouth shut. âWhat?â He shrugged, entirely unphased by the look I was giving him. âYou did, didnât you?âÂ
I shifted my attention back to Peter, eyes rolling in my head at Parker. âOkay, so yes, I did! But itâs fine, alright? I mean, Iâm alive arenât I?â I motioned to myself, entirely unharmed. âEverything worked out.âÂ
Peter snorted at my comment. âAnd what if it hadnât? Then what?âÂ
The possibilities ran through his head, every couldâve been that I had luckily avoided. A sudden tautness set upon his stomach, feeling as if his gut was twisting relentlessly as his subconscious forced him to picture all of the horrific ways things could have gone. I had been lucky this time, and for that he was thankful, but he couldnât help but be terrified by the thought of what would happen when that luck ran out.Â
I still didnât regret my decision to go to the Sanctum. Whether Peter liked it or not, Electro had answers that I needed in order to start finding my own peace. I needed to know about the lives Iâd lived out of this universe, needed to learn about the choices Iâd made in them.Â
If I was going to try and beat destinyâbeat the entire multiverseâthen I needed to learn from my past selves. I needed to be prepared, a luxury that the other versions of me hadnât been granted.Â
Yet, despite my obvious lack of regret, I still felt uneasy about the decision I had made. I knew that my actions had ultimately made me a bad friend to him, especially considering everything he had gone through lately. I hadnât taken into account how it would affect Peter, and whether I meant to or not, I had succeeded in heightening his already insurmountable level of anxiety.Â
I couldnât blame him for being upset with me. I couldnât blame him for being absolutely infuriated. Because I knew that all of it stemmed from one very simple fear; losing another person he loves.Â
âYou shouldâve told one of us.â He continued to reprimand me, my teeth sinking into my cheek as I attempted to fight against my own growing irritation with his attitude. âOne of us couldâve went with you! What if something had happened, y/n? Did you even think about that?â A rhetorical question, of course. âYouâre totally defenseless against someone like him! What if the cell had failed? What if he found a way to hurt you?âÂ
These were all possibilities that I had already considered before even so much as sharing the plan with Ned, although I saw little reason to discuss my thought process with Peter.Â
After all, he wasnât speaking from a place of logic and reason right now, too blinded by trauma to care about anything else. If he had been more level-headed then he would have realized himself that the Sanctum was one of the safest places I could be, a statement that even he himself had made in the past.Â
âIf I had asked you,â I began cautiously, âwould you have gone with me?âÂ
There was no anger in my tone, unlike his own. There wasnât even the smallest hint of condescension as I worked to ensure I remained as even as possible. I didnât wanna fight with him, something I only hoped would be made clear by my calm demeanor, but I did plan on making a clear point.Â
âOf course.âÂ
It was a blatant lie, and all three of us knew it instantly. His stare remained fixed to the floor below him, his muscles tightening as he cursed himself for being unable to deliver the answer in a more convincing way. I didnât even have to speak in order for him to decide to admit to his falsehood.Â
âMaybe not-â he quickly picked back up his pacing, distracting himself as he watched one foot fall in front of the other, having already armed himself with an excuse for his answer, âbut you heard all the stuff Dr. Strange said! One of the villains already has it out for you, alright? We canât just risk the rest of them deciding to chase after you too!âÂ
âI get it.âÂ
A painfully simple response, one that left his eyes growing wide, almost stumbling over his own feet as they clicked in his head. He assumed that I would be frustrated with him, be incredibly angry at the fact that he wouldnât have let me go to the Sanctum. Or, perhaps, I wouldnât have said anything at all, only allowing a silent resentment to fester.Â
He would have been okay with that. Peter could live with the thought of me hating him if that meant I would be safe. But, of all the possible outcomes he had considered, he hadnât once imagined that I would settle on understanding his point of view.Â
âI know that itâs scary.â I confessed to him and Parker both, sharing with them the smallest fraction I could of the fear that had been consuming me lately. âIâve been terrified ever since we talked to Strange. Itâs weird, ya know? To know that in all of these other worlds Iâm just⌠gone.âÂ
Neither of them spoke, Peter once again slowing his erratic motion, coming to a full stop as he focused on my words.Â
âIt changes everything. I mean, I donât even know who or what I am anymore.â Strangeâs words once against echoed through my mind, the possibility of me being something more, something unknown. âI knew that it was risky, but I needed to at least try and talk to him. And I know the odds arenât exactly in our favor, but I have to try. To learn from them, to figure out what not to do.â I paused, trying to connect the stream of thoughts coursing through my mind. âI justâI donât know, itâs stupidâbut, I think I need to know who I was in order to find out who I am.âÂ
Parker shifted beside, his pinky ever-so-slightly brushing against the side of my hand as it was pressed against the cushion. It was a small gesture, one that appeared simple and meaningless, and yet when my eyes met his I could see the significance behind it. While he didnât like that I went out on my own, he understood.Â
Peter, on the other hand, remained still. His whole body went rigid, frozen in place as something deep inside of him suddenly altered. He had grown accustomed to the feeling that haunted him, the red hot fury that had coursed through his veins for so long nowâsince Mr. Stark, since Aunt May. He had learned to live with it, but now it felt different.Â
All at once, that fire transformed, cooling until all of a sudden he felt cold as ice. He had no rage to hide behind, nothing to mask his pain, and he was left with nothing but pure unbridled fear.Â
His dark eyes turned glossy, his voice strangled as he struggled to choke his words out. âI donât want you to die.âÂ
The desperate admission had my chest tightening. Peter had been completely spent. He didnât have the strength to do it again, not yet, not so soon, possibly not ever. He was so tired of grieving, drained from being forced to witness those he loved take their last breath.Â
He couldnât take it, couldnât stand the thought of being forced to watch as another person left him behind. If he had to do it all again, had to experience losing me, too, then he was sure that he wouldnât be able to recover from it this time.Â
âI know.âÂ
I didnât know what else to say, if there was anything I could say that would potentially ease the hurt he felt. I wanted to hold him, wanted to erase the pain that began to consume him. I even wanted to apologize for going to the Sanctum, for contributing to his feelings right now, even if I knew I wouldnât mean it.Â
âI donât want to either,â And god, I meant it, âbut I canât let that fear stop me from living right now.âÂ
Peter blinked a couple times, willing away the tears that threatened to spill over. He didnât wanna cry, not here, especially not in front of Parker.Â
âOkay.â Straightforward, the best indication he could give that he understood my words. Understood what I was asking, even if I hadnât outright said it. Some semblance of freedom, of trust. âBut promise me you wonât do anything stupid again without running it by one of us.âÂ
I tried not to take offense at his statement, especially considering the fact that maybe it had been a tad stupid.Â
âDeal.â I promised him, a smile tugging at the corner of my lips. âSo are we good?âÂ
Peter nodded his head, his body now more relaxed than before. âWeâre good.â He confirmed.Â
It felt so nice to be able to talk to Peter, to have him finally offer me the slightest inkling of the thoughts residing in his mind, the fears he was trying to face alone. It felt so nice, in fact, that I opted to not tell him that I had already begun thinking of my next move, having been inspired by my own newfound refusal to sit idly by.Â
After all, he said that I had to tell one of them if I had planned something stupid, not that I had to tell him.Â
Parker and his strict moral code on lying (with a notable exception being for when it worked in his favor, it seems) had already stricken him from the running, although I likely wouldnât have picked him even if he had been willing to hide my new idea from Peter.Â
A major line had been crossed that day in the Sanctum when Parker decided to kiss me, and neither of us seemed quite certain of how we were supposed to exist in the aftermath of our secret encounter.Â
Occasionally, things would feel as natural as theyâd always been. The two of us would engage in our usual banter, each of us armed with our own special breed of sarcasm, relentlessly teasing the other. Other times, however, it felt as if we were approaching that line again, perhaps on purposeâas if both of us were toying with the idea of stepping over it again, at least once more.Â
Fortunately, both of us seemed to have found the will-power we lacked down in the Sanctum. We couldnât act on it, couldnât talk about it, couldnât think about itâbecause in keeping with all the other occurrences lately, it was just too complicated. Because of this, spending time together had become a delicate dance, one in which neither of us knew the right steps. And so, in a desperate attempt to avoid complicating it further, we were left with no choice but to try and steer clear of each other.Â
This meant there was only one Peter Parker I could trust, only one that wouldnât run off and spill my plan to Peter, only one that would let me avoid the constant will he, wonât he? that had consumed Parker and I.Â
And all I had to do was convince him to come along.Â
âCâmon.â I whined, glancing up at the blue-eyed Peter Parker. I had made a whole show of it, putting my desperation on full display as I knelt down on my knees in front of him, hands clasped in front of my chest as I pleaded with him. âItâs not even dangerous! We just pop by the Sanctum again, get Strangeâs help, and then boom!â Pete flinched a bit as I shouted the word, âDone! Easy peasy.âÂ
His nose wrinkled slightly, an uncertain expression settling across his features. âI donât know if easy peasy really applies to using some weird device to pry around inside your mind.âÂ
My head tilted slightly, considering the likely possibility that he was right. Until Dr. Strange had mentioned it that day when he oh so kindly pointed out that I shouldnât exist, I had no clue that memory probes were even a thing, which meant that my knowledge on how they worked was drastically limited.Â
For all I knew, there were a slew of risks that came with utilizing the device. Unfortunately, though, we couldnât afford to waste time figuring that out; not when the need for it had begun to outweigh the risks.Â
âI know that this isnât really an ideal situation,â I began cautiously, hoping my delivery would come across more as a gentle reminder rather than an offensive jab at their inability to find the Goblin, âbut youâve gotta admit that weâve hit a wall. You guys have looked everywhere for him, and weâre still no closer to finding him or figuring out his plan.âÂ
He knew that I was right, his agreement indicated by a subtle nod at the statement. The three of them were doing their bestâbut the Goblin had managed to stay a step ahead of us, sticking to the shadows ever since the night at my apartment. He had gone silent, too silent, and at this point we were just sitting ducks.Â
Pete shifted in his chair, hands moving to rub roughly at his face, a sort of frustrated noise escaping his lips. âAnd if it doesnât work?â I did my best not to smile at the question, ignoring the spark of hope that came from him at least considering my idea. âWhat if you canât justâI donât knowâpick what memories you wanna see?âÂ
My shoulders lifted into a shrug. âWeâll figure it out. Strange has used it before, so I doubt it's that difficult.âÂ
He looked up from his palms, brows furrowing at the implication that my skill level somehow might match that of a sorcerer. âWhen he looked into your mind he said he saw everything.â Pete reminded me, and I wasnât sure if he was attempting to sway my opinion on the matter or if he was speaking from genuine concern. âEvery memory, from every universe. What if you canât navigate that?âÂ
âThen weâll just cut our losses and leave.â I assured him. âI told you: easy peasy.âÂ
His eyes rolled back at the childish saying, already having convinced himself that this would be anything but. Still, he couldnât deny that the plan had merit. We were running out of options, and as much as he hated it, he knew it would be foolish not to use one of the most promising resources we had left.Â
The y/n from his world.Â
He had said it himself before; that she had a different kind of relationship with Dr. Osborn. They had fostered a bond that went beyond the one Pete had shared with him, and it wasnât a stretch to assume that she would have a better idea of where he was hiding than Pete would.Â
Still, there was something unsettling about it to him. The idea of me picking through her memories, searching for answers inside a mind that was mine but also not.Â
He huffed, squeezing his eyes shut as he felt a familiar throbbing in his temples. This world seemed to have a nasty habit of giving him headaches, a feeling he was very quickly growing tired of. âFine.â I grinned. âBut if Peter finds out Iâm not gonna be the one to take the blame, alright?âÂ
We both knew he was lying.Â
âYou know, one of these days Iâm going to hear a knock on this door, come to open it, and not be met with your face.âÂ
Nervous laughter spilled from my mouth, although I was fairly certain that he hadnât meant it as a joke. I quickly stiffened, falling silent as I found myself feeling unusually small under the weight of his frustrated stare.Â
As that familiar feeling of intimidation that came about whenever he was around began to sneak up on me, I forced the words out of my mouth at record speed, desperate to get it over with.Â
âI need your help.âÂ
Dr. Strange sighed, likely considering shutting the door in our faces. I couldnât blame him given the fact that all any of us had done so far was create more problems from him to help us solve. Luckily, though, he decided to at least entertain my request. âWhat do you want?âÂ
I hesitantly motioned the foyer behind him, âCan we come in?âÂ
âNo.â He stated plainly, his eyes narrowing. âFirst, you can tell me what youâre wanting from me, and whether or not I wish to be involved will determine if that answer changes.âÂ
I bit my cheek, glancing to my side where Pete stood silently next to me. He was glowering at Dr. Strange, likely choking back several remarks about Dr. Strangeâs incredible hospitality. âI have an idea on how to catch the Goblin.â I finally spoke, forcing myself to take a deep breath as I turned my attention back to Strange.Â
âGreat.â His curt response was accompanied by a tight-lipped smile. âGo and get him then.âÂ
âWe will.â I told him, matching his sharpness for a moment, only to quickly dial it back when his expression hardened further. âItâs justâwe need⌠access, to something, in order for it to work.âÂ
At the very least, Strange seemed vaguely intrigued.Â
âAccess to what?âÂ
âMy memories.â I spoke, determining how to properly detail my request. âThe ones that arenât⌠mine, I guess.âÂ
In an instant, his brows shot up, exaggerating the thin lines across his forehead. The door opened a few more inches as he took a step past the threshold, moving in closer. âYou do realize there are a couple hundred-thousand lifetimes bouncing around in there-â he stuck a finger out, pointing at my head, âdonât you?âÂ
âYep.â I nodded, mentally cursing myself for popping the p, ignoring the hushed laugh that Pete failed at holding in because of it.Â
âAnd so youâve considered just how taxing that process would be, right?â From the way he spoke, I could tell that he already assumed I hadnât; and while I still wasnât sure what all a memory probe would entail, I refused to give any indication that I wasnât prepared for it, maintaining a blank expression.Â
âMhm.âÂ
âThat it could require literally hours of combing through dozens of memories, but several universes?âÂ
âYes.âÂ
âAnd that if you stumble into the wrong memory you might end up forcing yourself to live through your own often tragic death?âÂ
âYeah, no, I actually already thought about that, too.â I assured him, offering an awkward smile as I once again motioned to the foyer. âSoâcan we come in or not?âÂ
Dr. Strange inhaled sharply, lips pursed as he looked me over from head-to-toe. âYouâve got guts.â He eventually stated, taking a step back and pushing the door open wider for us to get past him. If I didn't know any better, I wouldâve thought he was impressed. âIâll give you that.âÂ
Pete made a little noise, something similar to a snort, but didnât make any other comment. I didnât pay any mind to him, focusing on Strange as I moved into the space, Pete trailing behind me.Â
I couldnât help but think back to what Dr. Strange had said that day when he had gathered us all together, the fact that he had actually considered the possibility that I wasnât good, that there was a chance I would turn on them all.Â
âI just wanna help.â I told him honestly, hoping the words would register with him.Â
He didnât give any indication on whether or not it influenced his opinion, though, breezing past the declaration entirely as he set-off in a direction, clearly expecting us to follow. âThis manâNorman Osbornâheâs from your world, correct?âÂ
The question had clearly been aimed at Pete, and I acknowledged the way he scowled as Strange spoke to him, ever the one to hold a grudge over quite literally anything. My lips twitched into a smile at the sight, aware that the typical reason for his irritation with others was in an effort to defend me.Â
âYeah.â He answered pointedly. âHe is.âÂ
âGood.â Strange assented as he shoved open another door, leading us into that familiar space with all the odd artifacts and pieces of technology that the sorcerors had compiled over the past several decades. âYou can act as a guide.âÂ
Pete paused, hanging back by the door as I followed Strange into the space. âA guide?âÂ
âWell, we know that for some reason y/nâs mind contains all of the memories of her others, even if she doesnât have full access to them without the use of a tool. But she has no connection to this man; not in this universe, at least.â Dr. Strange began to explain to him, stepping behind a bookshelf as he rummaged through its contents. âThereâs nothing to tie her to him, no clear-cut path that she can take in order to access any memories with him. But you knew him, yes?âÂ
âYeah,â Pete confirmed, his eyes darkening just a touch, averting his gaze to the dusty floorboards, âI did.âÂ
âSo youâll act as her guide.â Dr. Strange repeated his past statement, coming back around the corner of the shelf. âItâs simple.â He continued, as if he could sense the nerves radiating off of Pete. âAll you have to do is talk to her, help her get a picture of him in her mind. Tell her about the places she spent the most time with him, things they might have talked about, anything that might be useful. After that, her brain will do the rest.âÂ
I didnât look back at Pete again, unaware of the anxiety that was now coursing through him, too focused on the object in Dr. Strangeâs hands. It was smaller than I would have thought and made of some type of dark steel. âIs there anything I need to do?âÂ
âKeep your mind clear.â Dr. Strange instructed me, using his head to gesture towards a chair that was off to the side, encouraging me to sit. I obliged, keeping my focus locked onto him as he approached me with the device. âItâs difficult enough to navigate a normal mind, let alone one containing infinite memories. You just need to focus on his words, let them push you in the right direction. If you go off courseâstart thinking about something elseâthereâs no telling where youâll end up.âÂ
A knot started to form in my stomach, and I swallowed roughly while attempting to push past the dull pain it caused. âOkay.â I worked to keep a steady tone, not wanting Pete to sense any of my discomfort. âSounds easy enough.âÂ
âFar from it, actually.â Strange offered me a dismissive smile, and despite the slight cruelty of his words, it seemed as if he was actually trying to distract me from any feelings of nervousness. âBut youâll figure it out.âÂ
Carefully, he placed the device on my head, my muscles tensing at the sensation of the cool metal pressing against my temples. At some point Pete had moved further into the room, now standing by my side and cautiously eyeing the device. âClose your eyes, clear your mind.â Dr. Strange directed me before looking at Pete. âStart talking, lover boy.âÂ
If I hadnât already closed my eyes, I was sure I wouldâve started laughing at the way Pete most certainly glared at Dr. Strange for the statement. I knew it made him uncomfortable, knowing that Strange had seen into his mind, had felt the feelings he held towards the me he knew. But he ignored it, pushed past the comment and did as he was told.Â
âI guess, uh, try to think of Oscorp.â He started, his discomfort quite apparent.Â
âMight need to be a bit more descriptive than that.â I snickered teasingly. It was a bit difficult to imagine something when it didnât exist in my world.Â
I couldnât tell if Pete found any amusement in what I said, though I thought there was a tinge of a smile present in his voice when he spoke again. âWell, itâs just this really big building, pretty much like every other place in the city. It was kind of special, though, or at least you thought it was. Once you actually told me that Oscorp was like your Disney Land; just this huge place filled with scientists and cutting edge tech, all the things you loved, ya know?âÂ
There was a pause, an inhale of breath. âThatâs where you spent most of your time with Dr. Osborn.â He told me, sounding a little more relaxed as he started to find something to talk about. âYou actually spent all your time there in general. Locked away, drowning yourself in research.âÂ
I squeezed my eyes shut a little tighter, doing my best to focus on his words, trying to do whatever I could to place myself there; to get in touch with the me he knew.Â
âMost people would probably think that it was miserable, but not you. I think thatâs why Dr. Osborn liked you so much, ya know? You werenât in it for the money or a title, you were just so passionate about your work. It was everything to you.âÂ
He chuckled a bit, though it was weak and disheartened. It was still hard on him to talk about her, to talk about me. âWe used to try our hardest to keep it from totally consuming your life, though. Harry and I both would always sneak into the building, trying to convince you to tear yourself away from all the data and research, at least for a bit. Dr. Osborn actually tried to get Harry and I banned from the building once,â I could practically hear the smile in his voice, even amidst the sadness that consumed it, âhe said we were distracting you from your bright and promising future.âÂ
Harry Osborn, a name that always piqued my interest. Another person that seemed to make a regular appearance in my past lives, a name that seemed to send Parker into a spiral. His name hadnât mattered much in Peteâs story, given that in his world, Harry was nothing more than a friend of mine.Â
But, unbeknownst to either of us, uttering his name even in passing had been a mistake. His voice became more faint, slowly fading until it was nothing more than an inaudible hum in the background, the memory probe aiding me into entering a memory of an Osborn manâjust not the right one; not the right world.Â
âYouâre distracting me.âÂ
The voice was foreign to me, even as it spoke similar words to the ones that Pete had just muttered. Still, the strangerâs presence seemed to spur something inside of me; the knot that had formed in my stomach seemingly untying itself in their presence.Â
I attempted to take in my surroundingsâtaking note of the lavish decor. The walls appeared to be some sort of emerald marble, the floors dark in color and sporting a sort of geometric design. I glanced down at my own lap, realizing that my outfit was different than before as I rested against a plush black cushion, reclining on a couch with wooden accents.Â
There wasnât a single part of me that recognized this place, and while I knew that should make me feel panicked, I couldnât help but feel surprisingly at ease.Â
âI canât be distracting you.â The sound of my own voice left me stunned, escaping without permission, as if my entire body were on autopilot and I had been trapped inside of it. âIâm literally just sitting here.â I spoke again. âI canât distract you if Iâm not even doing anything.âÂ
âMmm, thatâs the problem, doll.â The unknown voice hummed, footsteps sounding out as they crossed the room, making their way to where I was sitting. âYou donât have to do anything when just your presence is enough to drive me crazy.âÂ
My eyes flicked up to meet the stranger as he stopped in front of me. Same as the room that surrounded us, there was nothing about him that felt familiar, and yet I still found my heart fluttering at the sight of him; another reaction that was out of my control.Â
âHm,â I matched his tone, humming the way he had as my lips quirked into a smirk, âthen maybe I should leave? Heaven knows the board is always looking for new opportunities to jump down your throatâcanât have them finding out that youâre spending your time flirting with your employees instead of running Oscorp.âÂ
Fuck.Â
âEh, who gives a shit what those old shits think?â He stated as he mirrored my teasing expression.Â
Fuck, fuck, fuck.Â
I shifted in my spot, rising to my feet and placing a hand against the boy's chest, gently smoothing out his suit coat. He watched me, tentative and utterly captivated. âWell, technically, you should probably care.â I told him matter-of-factly. âSeeing as though theyâre trying to push you out of your own company.âÂ
I knew that I had messed up, knew that I had accidentally done exactly what Dr. Strange had warned me of. I hadnât kept my head clear; I had let myself get sidetracked by the mention of Harryâs name, gotten lost in the stories Iâd been told about the Harry Osborn from Parkerâs world. And now, being in this moment with whom I could only assume was Harry himself, I couldnât help but think of what Parker had said about him.
You were his entire world.
âIâd like to see them try.â He grinned down at me, taller by at least a few inches. His hand raised to lovingly stroke my cheek, and I found myself leaning into his touch. âBesidesâ he carried on, âeven if they did, Iâd still be the richest man in New York.âÂ
I laughed, nuzzling against his hand. âYou can never pass-up an opportunity to mention being a millionaire, can you?âÂ
âBillionaire.â He chided sarcastically, his thumb lightly brushing against my bottom lip, his eyes glued to them. âBut I actually wasnât talking about money. They can have itâall of it, if they want. As long as I have you, Iâll have everything I'll ever need.âÂ
Warmth crept up my neck and spread across my cheeks. âGod,â I drug the word out, unable to fight against the smile tugging at my lips, âI never wouldâve pinned you as such a softy, Harry.âÂ
His other hand moved to my face as well, cupping it in his palms as he leaned in closer, âOnly for you.âÂ
It felt like my heart was going to beat right out of my chest, suddenly overwhelmed by the sensation of my mind racing as he moved in towards my lips. But, just before they touched, my eyes closed and I no longer felt the comforting touch of his soft hands against my skin.Â
When they opened again, things had changed. I was still in the same room, noting the same marble walls and geometric floors, but it was different now. I had just walked through the doors into what I now felt comfortable assuming was Harry Osbornâs office at Oscorp, and I no longer felt that sense of safety, of relaxation.Â
I was angry.Â
My fists were clenched at my sides, the sound of my heels clicking against the floor as I stomped over to Harryâs desk, my entire body practically shaking with rage. Truthfully, I wasnât sure that anger was a good description of how I felt. I was absolutely infuriated.
âI just wanna talk!âÂ
This time I recognized the voice that was calling out after me, the sound of their footsteps falling close behind my own as they struggled to keep up with my quick pace. It was Parker.Â
I spun on my heel, less than an inch or two in-between us as he had been hot on my trail, and without a single thought I reached out and slapped him across the face. âFuck you, Peter!âÂ
Shock coursed through me, and I couldnât tell if it was my own emotion this time or if I was feeling hers; if she too was shocked by her actions.Â
Parker only blinked, a hand rising to rub the now sore skin. âOkay, I deserved that.âÂ
I scoffed. âYou think?âÂ
âBut youâve gotta give me a chance to explain-âÂ
âActually I donât.â I cut him off, clearly unwilling to hear whatever excuse he was about to spout out. âYou shouldnât even be here right now, Pete. He doesnât want to see you, and honestly?â I paused for a moment, barely a second as I seemed to consider what I would say next. âNeither do I.âÂ
It had hurt him to hear it, his lip quivering the smallest bit, an unintentional display of an emotion he wanted to hide. I couldnât help but feel bad for him, couldnât help but wonder why I was so mad at him in the first place.Â
âIâm not gonna apologize-âÂ
âFucking great.â An exasperated breath, my head shaking as I tried to look anywhere but at him. âThen you really shouldnât be here.âÂ
âI just want to explain-âÂ
âOh my god, can you just listen to me?â I cut him off once again, yelling loud enough that I was certain anyone else in the building could hear every word perfectly. âI donât want you to explain, Peter! I want you to leave me alone so I can at least try to salvage whatâs left of my relationship, okay? Heâs already going through enough right now, the last thing he needs is to find out that we are even speaking!âÂ
There was a small flash of guilt in his eyes. âYou know that I would help him if I could.âÂ
I remembered what he had told me in my apartment that day, about the disease that was killing Harry, the same one that had claimed his fathers life. And, with that knowledge, I wanted to believe what he was saying. But, for some reason, this version of me didnât seem convinced.Â
âWould you?â I asked him, taking another step forward, closing the already miniscule gap between us as if I were challenging him. I stared up at him, my gaze icy and filled with rage. âYou didnât even offer to try, Peter. If you gave a shit about Harry then youâd be here every fucking day.â I motioned towards the hall, likely referring to the labs I knew were housed in the building. âWe could be studying your blood. Testing it. Trying to create a cure, trying to save his life instead of just telling him no.âÂ
Parker didnât respond, his breath caught in his throat as he watched me. From the look on his face, I assumed he had never seen me so angry before, and his silence only added more fuel to the fire.Â
âDo you know how that feels, Pete?â I questioned him, tears beginning to well-up as I spoke. âTo have to look the man I love in the eyes and just tell him no? Not to have to tell him that I canât save his lifeâbut that I wonât.â Nothing but silence. I bit my cheek, taking a step back and turning back towards Harryâs desk. âAnd then you just had to go and make it worse, didnât you?âÂ
As I stepped towards the desk I felt Parker reach out and grip my wrist, a firm yet tender touch. My neck snapped to the side, looking over my shoulder at him while yanking my hand away from him. He hesitated, the rejection seemingly having an effect on him. âI wasnât trying to make it worse.â He finally admitted, breaking the silence that had fallen over him. âBut itâs just-â another pause as he ran his fingers through his hair, the same way he had several times since I met him, pulling roughly at it, âYou needed to know how I felt, okay? Iâm sorry that it hurt him, but I donât regret kissing you.âÂ
My stomach dropped. Iâd had this argument before, or one very similar, at least.Â
I stiffened. âNo.âÂ
He frowned, brows creasing as he stared back at me.Â
âI didnât need to know.â I clarified. âYouâre too late, alright? You made your choice a long time ago, and you chose to be with Gwen. Not me. And Iâm finally happy, Peter. After everything you put me through, after all the back-and-forth; it was finally my turn to be happy.âÂ
Another deep inhale, another moment of hesitation. I could feel all of the emotions that didnât belong to me; feel the fear, the anxiety, the overwhelming sense of exhaustion.Â
âAnd now Iâm gonna lose that.â I could feel myself shaking again, although this time it wasnât because of rage, it wasn't because I couldnât contain the ill-feelings I had towards Parker. I was crying now, and all I felt was pure terror. âSo I need you to leave, alright? I need you to go.âÂ
And when I looked back towards Harryâs desk this time, Parker didnât stop me, finally listening to me as he turned to leave Oscorp.Â
Things changed again, the same old office but with an entirely new aura about it. That terror remained though, the unbridled fear that turned my blood ice cold. It was dark, save for a single light on Harryâs desk, dimly illuminating the space.Â
I glanced down to my lap, just as I had in the first memory I stumbled into, but this time I wasnât on the couch. I was in his desk chair, my hands tightly bound behind my back with some sort of thin rope. On the floor were dozens of little orange spheres, and I felt myself get sick at the sight.Â
Unlike the other memories, I knew this one. I recognized it as the story Electro had told me.Â
This was the night I died.Â
I expected the terror to grow at that realization, but for some reason it didnât, instead morphing into a chilling sense of calm. I continued staring at the orange spheresâpumpkin bombs, I thinkâand I felt my head cock to the side.Â
âIâm not gonna hurt you.âÂ
It was that same voice; the one that was once foreign to me, the one I now knew was Harry Osborn. My head snapped up, tearing my sights away from the grenades and to the door of the office where he stood.Â
He didnât look the same, though. His dark hair had changed in hue, his skin now sickly with purple veins peaking through. Yet, despite the change in his appearance and the particular threatening situation I was in, I didnât seem scared. Not of him.Â
âI know.â I told him softly, my voice on the verge of breaking. âTheyâre not live, are they? Theyâre the inert grenades from the lab?âÂ
A gruff noise escaped his throat, confirming my suspicion. They were essentially just test grenades, hollowed out and capable of doing nothing more than making a near deafening pop when detonated. âWhy are you doing this, Har?âÂ
He began walking towards me, slowly at first, but then picking up his pace when he noticed that I didnât seem to have an adverse reaction to his rather sickening appearance. âBecause-â he knelt down in front of me once he reached the chair I was tied to, âhe wanted to take you from me. He was gonna let me die, y/n.âÂ
I didnât speak, remaining utterly silent as I looked down at him; but I seemed to agree with his words on some level, even if I wouldnât say it aloud.Â
âIâm not gonna let him get away with that. Someoneâs gotta punish him for it.âÂ
âIsnât he already being punished?â I suddenly asked, his head tilting slightly as he waited for me to continue, âHeâs already lost, Harry. I told you after he kissed me that it didnât change anything, okay? Iâm yours, not his!âÂ
His mouth twitched as I spoke, though whatever feelings the words stirred up clearly werenât enough to change his mind. âItâs not enough.â My heart lurched. âHe needs to know how it feels. To have nothing. To know what itâs like to have someone take something from youâtake someone from you.â He paused, a pale greenish-hued finger brushing against my cheek, just as he did in that first memory I saw.Â
And, in-spite of all of this, I still found myself leaning into his touch.Â
âYou said you werenât gonna hurt me.â I reiterated, trying to comprehend his plan.Â
âIâm not.â He reassured me, and for a brief moment, his cerulean eyes glimmered the way they had before; filled with such love, such unrelenting adoration. âBut I need him to think Iâm going to.âÂ
âWhy?âÂ
âBecause heâs in love with you.â Harry stated, his touch falling away as he rose to his feet again, eyes once again turning dark. âYouâre the one heâs going to wanna save, and when he goes after youâand he will go after youâIâm gonna take the only person he has left.âÂ
Gwen.Â
My teeth dug into my lip, tears slipping down my cheeks. âHarry, no-âÂ
âI know sheâs your friend.â Harry interrupted me, a genuine look of regret flashing across his face, the closest thing to an apology Iâd get. âBut heâs the one who did this.âÂ
âNo, Harry, you donât have to hurt her-â He didnât listen to me, though, turning towards the desk and placing a hologram receptor on it. He was going to make Peter watch, force him to pick between the two of us, just as Electro had said. âPlease!âÂ
I had never heard myself sound so desperate before, the sound of my own cries sending chills through my body. I tugged at my restraints, as if I thought I could reach out to Harry, hold him back and convince him to change his mind. I couldnât.Â
He didnât so much as spare another look in my direction, and perhaps he too was ashamed of his choices, recognized how deranged it was. If he did, he didnât show it, though. âThings will be okay after this.â Harry promised once he reached the door, although I wasnât sure if I was the one he was trying to convince. âYouâll see.âÂ
I didnât respond to him, not with any coherent words, screaming and crying as I continued to jerk against the rope that bound me as he left the room, closing the door on me.Â
That anger was still there, the sense of pure rage that I felt towards Parker. I knew that a part of me blamed him for it, for the way things had gone. It was as if I believed he was at fault for this, that he was the one who tipped Harry over the edge. And, truthfully, maybe I had been right in that assumption.Â
But Gwen didnât deserve to pay for what he had done.Â
She wasnât responsible for the mistakes Parker had made, nor was I willing to let her suffer at Harryâs hands. And so, I made quick work of beginning to loosen the restraints in any way that I could, aware that my time was limitedâpulling against them, jerking at them, trying to work my wrists out of them. I didnât care about untying my feet, aware that as long as I could get my hands out, I would be able to do something.Â
I looked to his desk, my eyes falling on the small glimmering object amongst a stack of paperwork.Â
A letter opener.Â
I knew now that Harry had never intended on killing me, but I still found myself coming to terms with my death, accepting that my blood would be on my own hands, now.Â
For Gwen.
a/n - not gonna lie, this chapter made me feel really bad for even writing it lol but i felt it was important to the plot, especially since Peter gets a lot of heat for the way he acts/what he's done! it serves as a reminder that we don't know everything that happened in Parker and Pete's universes/their mistakes. as the summary has always stated, they're each looking for a second chance, and we are finally able to start learning what they did to even need a second chance!
plus you guys know i love dane dehaan so i had to write my bb in here somewhere lol
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Stuck With Me: Book 1
đˇď¸(Cute Peter Parker slow burn, less spiderman action more just good ol awkward Parker.)
đˇď¸Peter has been in a bad mood all month, but with soon to be divorced parents, trying to figure out what's wrong with him is the last thing Lani needs. Thankfully summer break is here. Lani, Ned, Peter, and MJ set off on the summer vacation road trip to California. Drama ensues
Next part
CHAPTER 1: paint job
Lania's POV
Today is just one of those weeks, well months. It feels like each day drags on, but then all of the sudden it's Monday again. You just wonder "what have I been doing, why are all the days mushing together?" I guess it could be the rain, it's been raining almost every day this week. Rain always gets Peter moody. I guess because it's annoying getting rained on while you're just trying to do your job, swinging through the city. Ned just hates rain, and I have a dog who loves the mud but hates baths. I'm pretty sure Michelle is the only one who likes it.
"It's great antisocial weather." She always says.
Another contributing factor to the days running together is the feeling that they are all the same. Wake up, hear screaming from parents downstairs, get ready for school, hear dad slam the door to go to work, eat with crying mom downstairs, go to school, hang out with Ned, Peter, and Michelle, come home, do homework, and go to bed.
Considering I'm with my friends most of the day it's not too bad. But I'm just tired of it all.
I have no idea what I'll do when I'm finished painting my van. "My life will be a whole new level of boring " I sigh, once again dipping my brush into the paint can. The satisfying strokes of the rust-colored car turning the to the calming sage green, help me relax me. I skip a depressing song on my playlist and go for a Canned Heat song instead. That and the heavy rain is enough that no noise in the house can be heard in the garage. Silence at the Kahale house was hard to come by so I welcomed it with open arms, as the paint fumes danced in my nostrils.
That's when the daydreaming started, it had almost become routine. Something to look forward to while I painted and did other maintenance on Caroline. It was pretty much the same scenario every time. Kind of pathetic honestly. Some variation of the the same outcome at least.
Todays day dream starts off with Peter coming over in the night, having something to tell me. He climbs through the window in his spider-man suit. He wears it so he can be at my apartment even faster. I go to the window, confused why he's here. only for him to rush in take off his mask and tell me he is in love with me. And then of course we makeout.
Ok, I know it's weird and not realistic. First off, I am so hard in the friend zone. Second, no one just does that-but hey a girl can dream. But really she can't because her cush is way out of her league. I mean come on he's Spiderman!
I was the second to find out, Ned being the first. Though, I'm pretty sure me and Michelle knew around the same time. He came home one day after "the Stark internship" with the biggest black eye I had ever seen.
I was talking with Aunt May when he came home. He did a double glance at me and then darted for the bathroom.
"Peter?" Aunt May said, just as confused as I was.
"I just have to go to the bathroom!" He called out.
But he didn't know that I got a quick look of his eye before he bolted. That, and like a year ago all of the sudden he went from cute Lil' Peter to-shredded, chiseled, and taller Peter. A couple of other things had happened and it made us all suspicious. So, as soon as he ran off to his room, I got up and followed him. It took me about 60 seconds to find his suit.
The sudden pause in my music took me back into reality.
It was a text from Michelle in the group chat.
michael jackson: Hey nerds, how does Good Eats sound to you guys?
I was the first to respond
Lani: sounds amazing, I'm starving :))))
Bubbyđđťđ: sure but I've got no cash đ
I roll my eyes. Ned has been putting off getting a job for months.
Lani: I'm freaking loaded so I can pay for you đđ
Bubbyđđťđ: thanks a love
Lani: I got u bb đ¤
michael jackson: get a room
itsy bitsy â¤ď¸đ: Or just stop.
Bubbyđđťđ: ayy Peter you coming?
itsy bitsyâ¤ď¸đ: I guess.
Lani: want me to pick you guys up?
michael jackson : Nah I don't trust your driving after the whole incident
Lani: ???
Bubbyđđťđ: Yess plss
itsy bitsy â¤ď¸đ: No.
My mood sinks, if that makes sense. Seems like Peter is annoyed with me, and I don't know why. I shake my head. Texts always sound passive aggressive. But something about periods and short, serious answers make me question if it was just that. What if he was actually being passive-aggressive?
Guess I'll find out tonight.
michael jackson : What time is good for you guys? I was thinking 6.
Lani: sounds great to me! What time to you want to be picked up bubby?
Bubby is what I can Ned, he is pretty much my twin brother. Our humor is very similar so we can just make stupid jokes to each other all the time.
Bubbyđđťđ: 5:30 works great for me. Thanks â¤ď¸!
Lani: don't mention it đ!
Peter still hasn't replied. Maybe there is something wrong. I bite my lip and decide to text him away from the group chat.
Lani: hey Peter, you ok? :)
itsy bitsy : đŹ
The bubble goes up and down as he is typing before it disappears from my screen. I wait for it to return, but it doesn't. I decide to text Michelle and Ned, but Michelle beats me to it.
michael jackson : is it just me or is bug boy off?
Lani: was just about to say the same thing. I tried asking but he just left me on read.
michael jackson: I'll talk to him.
Lani: :( ok tell him we love him if he replies to you. I'm kind of worried about him.
michael jackson : will do.
I notice a lack of Ned in this discussion, but before I can think of it any more I see my clock says 4:49. I close the paint can and head inside.
That's when I get hit in the head with a plastic cup.
"Ow what the frick!" I exclaimed.
My mom comes rushing over to me. "Oh Lani, I didn't see you!" She glares up at my dad who is on the other side if the room. He looks very mad. "It was meant for your father."
I don't know what I'm supposed to say to this. I decide a not addressing it. They seems to be in a bad mood already. "It's fine whatever." will do. The little voice in my head faintly whispers but it's not fine. I push it down. "Mom's going through a lot right now, she doesn't have to think of me" overpowers the whisper as I leave the room. My mind is blank except for the thought of the minor, but definitely there, pain on the side of my face.
Usuallyâor I guess from what I've heard from some kids at school who also have divorced parents, only one of them is crazy, or unfaithful, etc... what luck that I got two crazy parents. They were fine on their own, normal chill mom and normal chill dad even before the fighting started. But something about them together made for a toxic explosion, they were not themselves anymore. Both equally to blame for the downfall of their marriage, which disintegrated only a year after it started. Right when I was born.
They have never said this out loud but, I know they blame me.
Instead of dwelling on that plastic cup, I make myself busy getting ready for tonight. That's the fun thing about liking someone, having a crush, you can get all done up.
I already have this up on wattpad, but if you hate that format Iâve got it here for you now. Tell me what you think!!
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THE BEST AVATAR FIC IVE READ
(we are written) in the sand and in the stars
Neteyam x Reader
Fic Summary: Sullys stick together. That is something you have heard since the beginning. But when you are forced to uproot and leave your home, it is something you must learn to fully take to heart. You are not technically a Sully, but you fight like one. And that in turn is enough to be shielded like one as well. There is no choice but to openly accept that this family, these Naâvi, are your fortress. It is perhaps harder, though, to accept that Neteyam has seemingly appointed himself as your personal guard.
ŕź CHAPTER FOUR: SEA SALT IN OLD WOUNDS
Chapter Summary: Tensions are making themselves known among your family. Between Loâak hitting a streak of defiance, Neteyam shifting your world on itâs axis, and Eywa bringing old memories to lightâyou find yourself grappling for a bit of stability. But will it ever come?
Authorâs Note: pls ignore the ugly ass dividers in the middle of the chapter tumblr has an image limit and iâm aware it looks like shit </3 also neteyam may be slightly ooc in this chapter. just squint ur eyes and pretend he isnât for the sake of my sanity.
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Sick does not even come close to describing the feeling that floods your body as you listen to Aoânung explain what he and his friends have done. It seeps into your bones; wraps around your spine like a vice that jerks you up off your knees in a split second.
But Neteyam is jolting up even faster.Â
Normally, heâs the most level-headed person within a thirty mile radius at all times. Normally, he is good at soaking in information and chewing on it until the solution is soft on the bed of his tongue. Normally, he chooses rationale over impulsivity.
Normally, you wouldnât see him do such a thing as reach to the base of Aoânungâs neck to grip onto the braid encasing his neural queue and order him in venomous tone to â walk â, but a divergence from normalcy is well acceptable now, you think.Â
The sickness doesnât subside as you trail right behind Neteyam, doing your best to keep your thoughts to yourself as he leads Aoânung to your familyâs home like a mindless dog whoâs just been caught chewing up the rug. You canât read the look on either of their faces, canât really decipher what is going through either of their minds. Which wouldnât really bother you in the case of Aoânung, alone. But it leaves you unsettled when it comes to Neteyam, who you have always been so good at reading; has you feeling like youâve suddenly gone illiterate in a language youâve been speaking your whole life. It frustrates you, pushes you even closer to the ledge.Â
The sickness doesnât subside, no, but with each step closer to your home that you take, it gains a new confrère.Â
Anger begins to simmer the unease in your bones. It gnaws at the frayed hems of your mind as you recall Aoânungâs confession over and over again, run it through your head repetitively in a frail attempt at finding reason in it. You knew he was not fond of your family, had a clear disdain for your presence in his home, but this?
Does he really hold such a hatred in his heart that he would abandon your brother in a place he did not know with no real way to defend himself? No route back? No promise of safety?
Youâd like to push Neteyamâs hand to the side and do the leading yourself. Maybe itâs ill intent to want to twist Aoânungâs braid so hard it has him seeing Eywa firsthand, but you couldn't care less. Not now. He has done nothing but terrorize your family since your arrival, what would be the harm in a little retaliation such as that?
After what feels like a walk far too long, you finally reach your familyâs hut. Jakeâs head snaps up as soon as he sees the three of you walk in, and his eyes are on high alert when he takes notice of Neteyamâs hand securing the chiefâs son in such a way. His expression portrays that there better be good reason for his son to be manhandling him as he is; you think the reason is well past good.Â
âTell him what you told me,â Neteyam orders, brisk and demanding. He doesnât let go of Aoânung, not yet, and you wonder if itâs because he doesnât want to risk him running off with his tail between his legs.
Because if Neteyam was looking at you like that, that is most certainly what youâd be doing.
You do your best to quell yourself as you listen to Aoânung recite the same story, near verbatim, that he told you and Neteyam to your father. Itâs no easier to hear the second time, and with every minute that passes you can only think about Loâak. Alone, cold, scared for his life; praying to the great mother that he is still alive. Â
Your ears flutter; a threat to press back against your skull. Fear is so familiar to you that you nearly welcome it like you would an old friend. But this time it is different, like an acquaintance who you do your best to avoid in crowds. Itâs different because it is not for you alone, not for your own peace of mind or with your own life on the line. It enrages you, scalds youâburns at you as you yearn for the safety of one you hold dear.Â
This fear has you bubbling over, rattling the lid off of the pot you use to vigorously contain all the ugly, unrefined pieces of you. Like stew left unattended on the stove.Â
Once Aoânung is through, Jake doesnât say a word. He simply stands up and reaches for a flashlight from his bag (which has you hiding the one Neteyam snatched earlier behind your back, as a second thought) along with his sheath, then turns to walk out. Itâs only now that Neteyam releases his grip on Aoânung, gives him one final steely glare before he goes to follow his father. Your body pivots to do the same, but you falter.Â
In any other situation, at any other time, you might have been able to bite your tongue. If this had been directed at you, if it was you lost out at seaâeven despite your irrational grievancesâyou think you might have found it within yourself to just brush past it. Forced yourself into the practiced philosophy of out of sight, out of mind, for the greater good of your fatherâs ataraxis.Â
But you were not the target of this, your brother was. And if Jake wants to preach your familyâs maxim so much, then maybe you can be so inclined to partake in a bit of malicious compliance in its stead.Â
You deem now is the perfect time to do so.
âIf they bring him back dead,â you address, turn your head to make direct eye contact with Aoânung. You want him to know you mean it, that it is direct and equitable. âI will kill you myself. That is pänu.â [ âA promise.â ]
His expression cracks, the mask heâs plastered on slips, in just the slightest way that is noticeable. And you see it, the twinge of emotion that incites a tremor in his cheek, stings at his eyes. He gulps the smallest of lumps down his throat, and you know. Heâs scaredâfor something, anything, you arenât sure and you donât care. You just want him to feel a fraction of what youâre feeling in this very moment, just a smidgen of something other than thinly veiled neutrality.Â
You take in his reaction and you heed to it before you finally focus your attention back on following the trail your father and Neteyam had taken. Finding where they went is easy; all you have to do is follow the shouts coming from the shoreline, the glow of torches and lanterns burning brighter with each pad of your feet against the netting. A crowd is already formed, people standing on and around the docks speaking among themselves. You catch a glimpse of Neteyam through a break in the sea of people, his sapphire skin sparkling against a backdrop of teal, and you begin pushing your way through.
Just as you reach him, your father and a few Metkayina men are already taking off into the water. They are the search party, you deduce, based on the murmurs of those around you. You try to drown them out, pretend you donât hear how some of them are already putting the blame onto your brother; as if they even have a clue.
Your fingers brush against Neteyamâs wristâout of instinct, yen, you arenât sure it mattersâbut at the slightest bit of contact heâs already grappling for it. Blindly, before heâs even turned his head. Like he can tell by just the ridges of your fingertips that it is you. His hand molds around yours, the warmth of his palm embedding itself to the lines crafted in your own. And now, only now, does he look to you.
âThey are going to the Three Brothers Islands to find him,â Neteyam tells you, and his voice comes out just as level as it always does. Just as composed. âThey should all be back soon.â
Any other person would miss it, any other person wouldnât pick up on such a thing. But you are not them. Neteyam has seemed to have put so much effort into concealing his emotions earlier that heâs caused a misstep, a flux. His voice is level, yes. And his eyes are steadfast, sure. His tone rings true to the promise that he believes his brother will return safe and sound, but âstray doubt has slithered in and soiled the pristine veils of that covenant.Â
Yes, any other person would miss it, but you pick up on the slightest quiver in the tip of his tail as it brushes against you. You take note of how his left ear twitches once, twice, three times; a nervous tell heâs had since you were merely children. You lock your gaze on the fang that hooks the edge of his lip, biting down, just barely. You detect it all, and you feel the vex.
He does his best to look strong and put on an unbothered show as the rest of your family runs up, asks whatâs going onâ Where is Loâak? What is happening? âand what the meaning of this is. You simply allow him to do so, let him step into his role as the pillar of the family oh so seamlessly, just like always. Squeezing the hand he has failed to retract as a comfort, a response to the plight, you shudder out a breath.
And the waiting game begins.Â
It takes foreverâat least, it feels like it does. The time spent waiting for the return of the convoy feels perilous, daunting. Excruciating, in a longing sense. Neytiri spends the time pacing, cursing below her breath at the situation, her son, the distinction isnât clear. Neteyam is not far off, he gets a lot of his mannerisms from his mother. He nearly drives you crazy with each pass he does beside you, but you find distraction in taking care of Tuk with Kiri. She has always been so empathetic with others, with Loâak especially, and her whines for when he will return have you silencing your own anxieties until you finally convince her to just go to bed.Â
After some time, though, you hear it. The shouts in the distance as they come within sight. The horns they blow as the search party comes back into view. The sigh that wracks out of you is near violent as you see your brotherâs silhouette seated behind one of the Metkayina men.Â
You rush to the ledge just as Loâak is stepping onto it and you can see it in his eyes. Thereâs fire behind them, raging, and itâs aimed directly at Aoânung. But before he gets even more than a step in, Jake is stopping him, holding him in place. Safety precautions, you assume, an attempt to keep things from escalating.Â
You for one think that Loâak deserves to throw at least one cheap shot at him, maybe even waterboard him for a few minutes. An eye for an eye sort of thing.Â
âLetâs have a look at you,â your father says, does a walk around of Loâak to look for any real injuries. He wonât find any, you can tell, and you know he knows that too. âHeâs fine, heâs fine. Just a few scratches.â
Neytiri brushes past you, now. Jumps down to the lower dock and grabs her son to run her eyes over him herself. But the relief painting her features is fleeting, and you bite the inside of your cheek at the shift in her gaze seconds later.Â
âI pray for the strength that I will not pluck the eyeballs out of my youngest son,â she hisses as she claws her hand in front of his face. Loâak looks unbothered, unperturbedâwould probably be embarrassed at such a sentence in any other circumstance, knowing him.Â
âNo,â Tonowari speaks up to your left, and your gaze snaps to him. His rebuttal is not something you were expecting, not something you had anticipated. âMy son knows better than to take him outside the reef.â And as if his speaking up didnât catch you off guard enough, he places his hand on Aoânungâs shoulder and makes him lower into a kneel. âThe blame is his.â
Everyone is tense, high strung; not wanting to do anything to tip this boat in either direction and send all of you plunging into an unforgiving sea. You understand thatâs the consensus of their thoughts, truly, but the only abstraction playing in your mind is that you think you like Aoânung better when heâs forced to be on his knees and silent.
âOkay,â Jake mutters out in a breath, grabs at Loâakâs arm to pull him along. âLetâs go.â
But it appears that Loâak holds a grudge against anything being as easy as this, so true to his fashion he yanks his arm out of his fatherâs grasp.
âNo,â he shakes his head, and you have half a mind to shake him senseless. You wonder what the hell heâs thinking, why heâs doing this. âThis is not Aoânungâs fault. This was my idea, Aoânung tried to talk me out of it. Really.â
Your father simply regains his grip on his youngest son, Neytiri shoving him along as well as he spews out a quiet apology. Loâakâs eyes meet Aoânungâs just as heâs being drug past him, and you realize in that moment, it was more than just trying to please those he feels the pressure to impress.
Jake shares a hushed understanding with Tonowari as he passes him, tells him heâll handle this. You hear the chief and his mate begin chastising their son as you fall into line to follow your family further and further away from the dock.Â
Youâre just out of earshot of the locals when Loâak turns to look at his father, already pleading his case. âDad, you told me to make friends with these kids. Thatâs all I was tryingââ
âI donât want to hear it,â Jake cuts him off, tone dripping in disappointment, indignation. He fixes Loâak with a stern look. âYou brought shame to this family.â
The statement causes a pause, a delay. It was not even directed at you and it has your stomach tightening into knots, nausea blooming in the pits of it. To say such a thing to him when it wasnât even him who did anything wrong feels malevolent; it doesnât strike you as fair.Â
In fact, nothing seems all that fair lately.Â
âCan I go now?â Loâak speaks up after the beat of silence.
Jake sighs, haughty. âAny more trouble, I jerk a knot in your tail. You read me?â
âYes sir,â your brother responds immediately. âLima Charlie.â
Your father nods his head with a grunt, and Loâak wastes no time in turning on his heel and stalking off. Part of you wants to run after himâyou still arenât fully settled from this incident after all, and youâd really like to give your brother a hug and let him know youâre glad heâs alrightâbut Neytiri is whipping around to face the three of you that remain as soon as Loâak is gone.Â
âWhere were you?â She asks, directed entirely to Neteyam.
âYeah,â Jake chimes in, and that same tone he was using on Loâak is plaguing his voice now. Itâs watered down, of course, but even diluted you know that it still tastes like straight poison to swallow. âWhat happened to keep an eye on your brother?â
Neteyam, not missing a single beat, dips his head. âIâm sorry, sir.â
So inculcated with obedience, so willing to drop it all just to fall into line. Youâve always seen it, acknowledged it, but now it shines in a new light for you. Neteyam never strays, never complains, never voices against anything when it comes from a station of command. Heâs deemed himself a soldier, a leader, his siblingsâ keeper; a patron to service everyone else and admonish himself.
And you just donât take too well to that right now.
âItâs actually my fault, sir,â you step in, do your best to ignore the heat of the gazes that switch from him to you. âIâm the reason Loâak wasnât looked after.â
Thereâs a sharp inhale behind you, and out of your peripheral you see Neteyamâs head snap back up. You arenât sure to which parent you should be looking, so you keep your eyes fixed forward, and wait.
âWhat were you doing?â Jake questions, and it all feels so unfamiliar. You are not immune to discipline from either of them, it has been administered to you many times over the years, but something about this moment feels heavier.Â
Your body tenses up in a weak attempt to control the flinch that it so desperately wants to convey as Neytiri steps into your line of sight. Saying you are scared of the only mother figure you have ever known is not something youâd be open to readily admit, but if you were ever asked if she made you a bit wary when she was angry, you think youâd have to agree to that statement.Â
â Why? â Itâs all she presses, a ghost of a hiss trailing on the end as if to dot the curve of punctuation.
âI was struggling with some things that Tsireya has been teaching us,â is what you settle on saying, and it isnât particularly a lie, but deep down you still feel the slightest bit culpable for it. âI asked Neteyam for help even though I knew he was busy. I shouldnât have distracted him, itâs my fault. Iâm sorry.â
âThereâs no place for distractions, â Neytiri bites, snaps her teeth. This time you do flinch. Not because youâre afraid her actions might harm you, but because her words do. Like the implication that you are a distraction is something she expected; a burden easy to predict. âDo not let this happen again.â
âI wonât,â you whisper, try to focus on the flame of a nearby torch to will the burning behind your eyes to stop. â I wonât. â
Nothing else is said before Neytiri turns on her heel to walk away, Jake trailing close behind. A hand brushes against your arm; Kiri offers you a sympathetic, odd tilt of a smile as she steps away too. Which only leaves you and Neteyam, and you can already tell you arenât going to like what he has to say about all of this, so you do what any person wanting to avoid confrontation would.
You clear your throat and go off in the complete opposite direction.Â
âHey,â he calls after you the very next second, already scrambling to match your fast pace. âHey, wait!â
But you ignore him, pretend you donât hear him. Because why should you stick around and listen to what he has to say if you are already well aware of the very words that are going to be leaving his mouth? You think it benign; that he should save his breath. You keep walking, and to your chagrin, Neteyam keeps following.Â
â Agh, Ma (Y/n).â And you know that timbre, know it only wavers as such when he has grown frustrated. Something inside you takes a little pride in that, and in turn you think you need to be checked in the head because of it.
The sand under your feet grows more and more moist, colder on the soles as you keep padding off. You had no intentional path when you started walkingâjust the goal of getting away from Neteyamâbut with a few more strides it seems that you find yourself in the very same spot you and him had been earlier. Perhaps just by tendency, it being one of the only places you are semi-familiar with, or maybe something else. Regardless of which, you do not let it blindside you as you are still on a mission.
âWhy are you so stubborn?â Neteyam groans, pinched and drawn out. A smile nearly tempts your lips at that, a laugh just about rolls off your tongue. That is, until you feel it.Â
The tug on your tail is swift; has you jutting to a stop in your tracks instantly. It is not playful, or fun spiritedâwhich leaves an odd taste in your mouth. Sand tunnels up in the skid marks your feet leave and you whip around to yank your own tail out of Neteyamâs calloused grasp. Your mouth is propped open, gaping. You wouldnât be able to conceal your disbelief if you tried because did he really just do that?
âI am not a child,â you reprimand, holding your tail close to you like youâre scared he might try to grab at it again. Then again, there is the chance that he might. âYou do not drag me back by my tail like one.â
You expect him to bubble out an apology forthright, but instead he closes the gap between the two of you with a pointed gaze.Â
âI am not a child either.â He mirrors your tone, like an echo in a lower octave. âI do not need you to take blame for me.â
A standstill, an impasse. You and Neteyam stare at each other for a few baited moments. His leer is heavy, disparate. Whatever is swirling behind those honeyed irises has you transfixed, but it doesnât mean you are willing to back down. Itâs like youâre backpedaling on a conversation youâve just had, but then again you suppose you are, arenât you?Â
âYou shouldnât be given blame yourself,â you tell him, unequivocally. Because it is what you believe, what you harbor in your heart. And Neteyam seems to always pull anything he wishes out of your heart. âI know you think you have to be responsible for everyone, but you donât.â
âThat is rich, coming from you.â
That takes you back a moment, has the gears inside your head stuttering in their tread. Heâs thrown your own words back in your face twice now, like a rag thatâs already been used and soiled. Itâs as if heâs dead set on hammering you out, knocking you straight no matter how many blows it takes.
It unnerves you.
âI am the oldest.â A statement, a fact; you say it because you know that one cannot argue with the flat truth. âThat is my job.â
It has always been your job.Â
âThen you should understandââ
âNo, I donât understand, Neteyam,â you interject, brows furrowing up at him. âYou are their older brother, I understand that. You want to stand up for those you care about, I understand that, too. But there is a difference between taking their side and taking their blame. And you donât seem to get that. â
âIf you are so against such a thing, then why did you do it just now?â He asks, brisk and unfiltered in a way he rarely gets. Thereâs a cinch between his brows, a dip in the lines of his lips. It isnât angry, or meanâitâs simply achingly curious. âWhy take my blame when you are not the one at fault?â
âMaybe I am just tired of seeing you get in trouble for things you donât do.â
It comes out quieter than you intended it to, like all the fight seeps out of you with each word that tumbles from your lips. A decrescendo of what was once a building dispute; a come apart. Your eyes flit away from Neteyamâs, your hands ring around your tail that youâve failed to drop thus far.Â
âIt just seems like youâre carrying everyone elseâs problems around with you constantly. Protecting them nĂŹftxavang,â [ âwith all your heartâ ] you shrug sheepishly, tip your head as you force yourself to meet his gaze once again. âIf I am able to take just a portion of the weight off your shoulders, then all I ask is that you let me.â
Heâs quiet, reticent. Each passing beat of locked eyes has you feeling more and more foolish. Perhaps you have crossed a line, said something you should not have. Maybe, this went over the boundaries of whatever the two of you were now, ventured into unmarked territory that you do not have permission to claim just yet.
Youâre still so unsure of what this is, at all.Â
Neteyamâs eyes cut away from you, dip down to some spot towards your feet. He reaches a hand up to fiddle with the necklace hanging from his neck; the one you made for him just a few hours ago. His thumb presses to the shell on it, his teeth pull his lips in. Then, he nods.
âOnly the light weight,â he cracks, lifting his head just enough to look at you through the braids that seem to always have a way of falling into his face. âYou are not built to carry anything kuâup.â [ âHeavy.â ]
You shove at his chest as the smile finally carves into his cheeks, roll your eyes at him and grumble under your breath. âIâm stronger than you, you skxawng.â
âAh, whatever helps you sleep at night,â he chuckles, grabs your hands to pull you with him as he stumbles a few steps back from your faux assault.Â
But he drops one, lets the grin lessen a little as he reaches behind you. Itâs hard not to jerk when you feel his fingers brush against your tail again (considering it has been pulled on more than twice today already, neither instance with your permission), and yet you control it because this time itâs gentle, loose. His grip is hollow as he skims his fingertips along your tail. A shudder runs through you as he gets to the end of it, in the very same place where he had grabbed onto earlier. Heat pools into your cheeks as he brushes against it with his thumbâtender, demure.Â
âIâm sorry. For pulling on your tail. That was.. rude.â Itâs devout, vehement. His touch conveys every word he utters in a tenfold manner. Itâs nearly overwhelming. âNgaytxoa, Ma (Y/n)?â [ âForgive me?â ]
Part of you wants to say no out of spite, make him squirm or tug his tail in retaliation, but the way heâs looking at you now has you tongue tied. As priorly stated, you harbor the ability to read Neteyam like an open book in your native tongue, and more often than not that is a skill you find joy in.
Now, though, you think youâd prefer to be struck dumb, because his gaze is dripping in such potent lovelorn infatuation that the side effects of that apparently include a fluttering in your gut that teeters on frenzied.Â
You canât seem to get any words out so you nod, bite the edge of your lip as you glance down to where Neteyam has taken to playing with the frays of your tail. You wonder if he even realizes what heâs doing, if he knows how all of this is affecting you; or if his gestures just ring true to his presumed inexperience.
You suppose thatâs something the two of you have in common when it all comes down to this: inexperience.
A breathy sort of chortle thumps out of him at your mute response. Heâs so close you swear you can almost feel the vibrations of it. The question crosses your mind whether it would be odd to request to place your hand over his heart, like you did when he was helping you before. You just want to feel it, become more acquainted with the rhythmic thump. Your mouth parts to ask, but.
âWhat are you guys doing?â Kiriâs voice carries from a few yards away, startling you into a step back. The action causes Neteyam to lose grip of your tail, the contact and closeness between the two of you waved away like a tepid vapor.Â
âNothing,â you reply straight away, because you think doing so might make you feel a little less awkward about this in the long run. (However after the words leave your mouth, youâre pretty sure theyâve caused the opposite effect). âWe were just..â
âTalking over training for tomorrow,â Neteyam chimes in when he sees you struggling, finishing your sentence off like itâs the easiest thing in the world. A culpable air of confidence about him to get away with such things, you think. âWe were just setting aside times to fit it all in.â
âRight,â your sister drawls, studying the pair of you for a moment before she continues. âWell, thereâs only a few hours of night left. Dad sent me to come find you so that you would get some sleep.â
âOkay. Coming.â And you curse yourself for the hitch in your deliverance as you say it. But it seems she doesnât catch it, or doesnât care enough to react, because sheâs already turning around to walk back the way she came.
Youâre taking steps to follow her without hesitation, fully expecting Neteyam to just fall in line and do the same. However, instead of matching your steps when he skirts his way into your peripheral vision, heâs brushing past you. Itâs peculiar, for him to do such a thing. But as you eye him in his parting you notice how his ears are pressed abnormally flat to his skull and you have to fight the urge to giggle.Â
Apparently even the strapping former heir gets embarrassed.Â
âIâm not blind, you know,â Kiri states after Neteyam has disappeared far enough ahead and you catch up to her languid pace.Â
The tips of your ears feel like theyâre being lit by a match and you curse yourself for what feels like the near instant karma of internally making fun of Neteyam just a second earlier.Â
âI never said you were.â
âHm.â She hums, sends you a side eye glance. âI see my brother has a new necklace. And since you and I both know how absolutely atrocious his beading skills are, I know he didnât make it.â
âYou noticed?â You donât understand why youâre so shy now. Itâs not like you havenât made your fair share of jewelry for others in the past. Hell, youâve made Kiri countless pieces since you first learned how to.Â
âOf course I did,â she rolls her eyes. Blunt, curt, the pair of you have always been that way with one another. So you can easily tell sheâs getting annoyed with you beating around the bush now. âBut I will say that you shouldâve made him give you the first courting gift. Wouldâve been funny to see him on pins and needles when giving it to you.â
That nearly has you tripping over your own feet, your eyes shooting as wide as saucers. You sputter over her words, tumble through a poor attempt at correction.Â
âThat wasnâtâThe necklace isnât a courting gift,â you defend, desperation littering itself in your pledge.Â
Kiri merely turns to you, pauses in her steps for just a moment, and gives you a look so knowing that it has you questioning everything you thought you were certain of.Â
âIsnât it, though?â
Before you even have the chance to ramble off anything else, sheâs continuing into the string of maruis, like sheâs well aware you cannot talk past this point for the risk of awakening those sleeping in their homes. You feel choked up, leg locked like youâve been caught in a slip of netting. Convincing yourself is trivial, pointless, but you try to do so anyway.Â
You made the necklace as a thank you, a symbol of gratitude; an offering. It was innocent in nature and two dimensional in creation. There was no chance that this simple necklace could be seen as something as pivotal as a courting gift. Could be interpreted as anything that holds so much weight.Â
At least thatâs what you keep repeating to yourself, as you do your best not to have another restless night sleeping on a mat thatâs laid next to the very man who has single handedly redefined the meaning of family for you.Â
âââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
The next day, eagerness is buzzing in everyoneâs chests.
You arenât sure youâve ever seen Kiri wake up so early without having to literally be dragged out of bed by the ankles. And itâs even more a surprise to you when Tuk doesnât whine and cry at being disturbed from her slumber hours before she normally would. Then again, it feels near impossible not to be keyed upâjitteryâbecause there is something youâre all dying to know.
Sitting in a circle on a group of rocks just as the sunrise is peeking over the horizon, each of you listen intently as Loâak recalls what happened last nightâeven Aoânung has joined you, and you hate to admit it but heâs acting slightly less insufferable than usual as he pays mind to your brotherâs story. Youâre seated between him and Neteyam, trying to pretend you donât see how the latter keeps fiddling with the necklace he dons, acting like every time you catch a glimpse of it Kiriâs words arenât ringing in your ears.
It is harder than one would think.
Loâak is just wrapping up his recollection, explaining how he told the tulkun that saved his life to swim away and that was the last he saw of him before he was picked up by the search party. It seems so surreal, a miraculous sort of thing. Youâre left stunned by the time he quits talking. Â
âI wish Iâd been there,â Kiri muses, eyes lit up in awe; wonder. Her smile is so bright that it makes you wish she could have been there, too. Divine occurrences have always been so special to her. âThe ocean blessed you with a gift, brother.â
Youâre inclined to agree, voice your own opinion on that, but Aoânung is speaking up before you get the chance.
âThe tulkun have not returned yet.â It sounds matter-of-fact when he says it, like heâs bordering on a disputing scoff, but even you can tell heâs merely questioning it because that is what he knows. âAnd anyway, no tulkun is ever alone.â
âWell, this one was,â Loâak counters. His hand waves to his side, over his arm in a sort of vague demonstration. âHe had a, uhmâa missing fin. Like a stump on the left side.â
Tuk mumbles an empathetic reply to that and in your heart you hold the same sentiment. A tulkun without a fin sounds so cruel, so pitiable. It strikes the question of how something like that could even happen, how a tulkun could become so mutilated in such a way. You look across from you to Tsireya with full intentions to ask, but her eyes widening has you wavering.
âThatâs Payakan,â she whispers, then turns to Aoânung and Rotxo and raises the volume of her proclamation. âItâs Payakan.â
Kiri tips her head. âWhoâs Payakan?âÂ
âAnd why do you say his name like that?â You add, not failing to pick up on the ill filter of her tone as she recited it. It has your stomach feeling heavy, your mind alert.Â
âHeâs a young bull who went rogue,â Rotxo explains, catching your attention. His expression holds nothing but offhand confusion. âHeâs outcast. Alone. And he has a missing fin.â
âThey say he is a killer,â Tsireya presses, hand reaching out for Loâakâs arm like sheâs trying to make him feel the seriousness of this implication.Â
You lurch at that. âA killer?â Your brother was left alone in the open ocean with a killer?
âNo.â Loâak shakes his head. â No. â
âHe killed Naâvi,â Aoânung expounds. His tone is more sincerely serious than you think youâve ever heard it, which is doing absolutely nothing to console you. âAnd other tulkun. Not here, but far to the south.â
âNo, heâs no killer!â Loâak continues to refuse the idea, push it as far off as he can. Your concerns are in multitude, of course, but he seems so sure about his standpoint on this that it has you questioning which side you should be agreeing with here.Â
âLoâak,â Tsireya breathes, giving his arm a squeeze. âYou are lucky to be alive.â
âIâm telling you guys, he saved my life.â His voice is laced solely in sincerity. Itâs like heâs desperate for someone, anyone, to just believe what heâs saying. To just listen to him. âHeâs my friend.â
Thereâs a sliver of silence that followsâa fleeting moment where it is obvious that no one is entirely sure on what to say nextâand Neteyam, who has not spoken up yet once during the duration of this, stands up.Â
âMy baby bro, the mighty warrior,â he smiles, leaning over Loâak to grip onto his shoulders and give them a lighthearted, teasing shake. âWho faced the killer tulkun and lived to tell about it.â
You can see the frustration on Loâakâs face before he voices it. He shoves Neteyam off with a dry hiss and stands up from the circle. âYou guys arenât listening,â he sighs, throwing his hands up in defeat before he turns to walk away.
â Loâak, â you drone, an indirect request for him to stop walking away as your sisters do the same. When you realize he isnât turning around, you smack Neteyam (who still hasnât sat back down) on the thigh with the back of your hand and glare up at him. âDid you really have to do that?â
âWhat?â he huffs, showing his own palms like he didnât do a single thing wrong.Â
Ignoring him, you turn your eyes back to your brother, who keeps stalking off until heâs out of sight headed to where the ilu gear is kept. You consider the possibilities of where heâs going, what heâs thinking, but if youâre being truthful with yourself you already know full and well the destination he has in mind.
Worry is something you feel far too oftenâthe threat of blowing a blood vessel is always so damn prevalent in this familyâbut now you do your best to swallow it whole. Whatever Loâak is doing, heâs doing because he thinks it to be right.
And you refuse to be the one who gets in the middle of that.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
The only regret you have for not chasing after Loâak yourself once he stormed off is that you feel a bit bad about what heâs going to be missing. Tsireya and Rotxo are taking you to their direct connection with Eywa today.Â
The journey isnât far, but it is more than just a swim around the reef, so Tuk hitches a ride on the back of Kiriâs ilu instead of riding her own. Youâre positioned on the back of Neteyamâsâbecause even though you have been getting better about the whole being underwater thing, you havenât quite reached the point of feeling comfortable riding one of your ownâbut he doesnât seem to mind your presence there; itâs almost as if he welcomes it.
You find delight in that prospect.
Itâs getting late, the time table of the day closing down, when your group breaks out of the water for the final time. Tsireya flashes you all a smile, dimple dipping into her cheek as you glide under a low hanging rock. She announces your arrival, looks over her shoulder to clock all of your reactions once youâre underneath the rock no longer and can really see where it is she has brought you.
The only word you can find to describe it is beautiful, but even that doesnât feel like it does it any true justice. Your eyes flit all around, taking it all in, letting yourself record mental logs of what will now be your replacement for a physical contact with the great mother. Rocks are floating like theyâre laced with helium, arches are carved like theyâre meant to hold the sphere of your planetâs entirety in their sheath. Something draws at you, like a string wrapped around your heart chords.
Like a childhood friend, pulling at your hand to come play. Â
âThis is the Cove of the Ancestors. Our most sacred place. Eclipse is the best time of day to be here,â Tsireya continues as the last sliver of daylight fades out, and you are listening, but you find yourself getting lost in the feeling of it all, too. Then, she stops, and the luminescence below you tells you where you are before she even has the chance to. âThis is it. This is the Spirit Tree.âÂ
If the cove is beautiful, then there must be a word out there that surpasses it that one can only use to describe this. Itâs so captivating that it nearly feels like a tranceâslipping off Neteyamâs ilu and sucking in a breath easier than it has ever been before. More willing, more inclined; the pressure of the water doesnât even cross your mind as you follow behind Tsireya to the heart of the tree.Â
Somethingâs tugging.
The Spirit Tree holds such a striking resemblance to the Tree of Souls that you find your hands nearly trembling as you swim. Everything has felt so foreign, so new, since coming here. Having something like thisâeven if these limbs float upwards towards the surface of the water instead of blowing freely below in the windâfeels like having a piece of home.
Familiarity fabricated in fallace.
You wait until Tsireya gives you the signal, the okay to connect to the tree with a supportive smile, before you swim up to any specific limb. Itâs only when you have it directly in front of you, when you reach back and hold your queue in your hand, that it hits you that this will be your first time connecting to Eywa in such an extended period of time.
Anxiety isnât what you would define it as, but something starts prickling at the back of your neck, scratching at the base of your spine. You curse yourself for having such a feeling right now of all times, when you were just fine a moment before. But itâs only normal, you think, in a time like this. You contemplate opting out, just swimming to the surface to clear your head.Â
Then Neteyam swims up to the limb beside you, sends you a bemused quirk of his lips as he holds his own queue in his hand, and itâs like the sight of him alone makes that all go away. So with a practiced sense of composure, you lift your neural queue to the projectionâallow the tendrils to spread along the surfaceâand you connect with the slow flutter shut of your eyelids.Â
The Great Motherâs power has always been different for you.
Connecting to a spiritual hub is a unique experience for everyone, granted. It can be a gateway to the past, or serve as a reunion with loved ones young and old who you hold dear. Most see family members that have already gone on to meet the Great Mother, people they have lost along the way of their lives or even before it. For instance, when Kiri shifts through she sees Grace, gets to talk to her biological mother even though they never had the chance to bodily meet in the proper sense. Youâve heard Jake speak of how he talks with Tsuâtey, his brother, and others in his family.
But youâ you have no one to really meet. You do not know your birth parents and though you are well aware Eywa must obtain that information, she has yet to share even a glimpse of them with you in all your nineteen years of life. You used to try bargaining, begging, for just one meeting with them; you wouldnât even need a conversation, just a single glance at their face. But Eywa has never obliged to your request, never given in, so what you settle on reliving is the memories.
Memories are like medicine; they either heal the ailments of your body and soul or turn you into a dependent addict. You think you might be a novice addict half healed.Â
Itâs foggy at first, as the pictures begin to flash behind your eyelids. Like readjusting your sight to the sun, you have to blink through your mind for the memory to come into focus. (An odd sensation, if you are not used to it). When it does, itâs almost like watching a movie filmed by a camera in your pupilâyour perspective alone, like youâre reenacting it in real time.
â Come on! â Loâak shouts as he runs past you, bumping against you with Spider in tow. His voice nearly resembles an echo, like it isnât fully clear. Almost as if heâs yelling from the end of a canal.
Theyâre young, here; giggling as they splash through a creek. They canât be more than four and six, which would set you as the same. Kiri runs up next to you and smiles, hair stuck to her forehead in wet strings. Childhood exudes well on her, on all of them. Something feels tight on your face as you smile back.
â Where are we going? â you ask, voice just as hollow as Loâakâs from before even if itâs littered with laughter as you rush to follow after them. Your feet slip on some of the rocks and you hurry to catch yourself. Glancing down you see the moss covering them, coating them in slick tissue. It makes you pause, for just a moment.
But a moment is all you get. You are not granted much leeway here. Your body moves forward before you will it to, like you are not the one operating it. However, you suppose that is partially true. The thing with memories shown to you by Eywa is that youâre only allowed as much variance as she wishes you to have; nothing more and nothing less.
You let yourself be pulled along.Â
The creek gets deeper as you race with your siblings, less rocks protruding to step on and more water lapping at your ankles. Before you know it youâre going around a bend, losing sight of Loâak and Spider for just a moment as the creek rises all the way up to the middle of your small shins. By the time you make it past the curvature, theyâre already climbing up a rocky embankment.
Their hands donât even grip onto anything solid, just the lush vines that drape over the bluffâs surface. Thereâs a sinking in your gut, like those moss covered stones have found their way in and decided to weigh you down. You rush towards them, start to climb up yourself to stop them.
â Get down. Get down! â You call, desperate, and you just canât seem to remember why. This is your memory, something you have already lived through, but itâs like youâre seeing it all for the very first time. This is not something you are used to, the unfamiliarity is destabilizing.
They donât listen to you, donât obey your request. They simply persist to laugh, continuing climbing up the unsecured vines. Spider even lets go to hold on with just one hand as he turns to look down at you. â Catch us if you can! â
And something just doesnât feel right. Itâs like listening to a ghost story knowing the riveting is creeping up right behind you, like itâs breathing down your neck. Youâre growing frantic, panicked. You keep climbing.
â Stop it! â You shout once more, and this time your voice cracks. â Youâre gonna get in trouble. Youâre gonnaâ â
Your hand slips, the rock crumbles under your fingertips. Falling backwards like the monster of your bedtime fears has you in its grasp now to drag you down. The weight in your gut turns featherlight as your gravity shifts. You land hard, not fully on your side but tilted just enough that your temple is what ricochets against the riverbed.Â
Thereâs shrill shrieks of your nameâfrom Loâak, Spider, Kiri who rushes to your side, screaming for Jake, Neytiri, Neteyam, anyone to come and helpâand suddenly youâre gasping. Your young hands fly up to your face, your little palms flash into your vision frantically, and itâs like the sheet of unawareness lifts in an instant.
Because the fingertips that search for your face donât quite reach it with direct contact, and they are not the shade of dusty blue that they are now. The tightness from before that smushed against your smile was not apprehension, but an O2 mask tightened with protocol security. And each gasp you suck in is not due to the wind being knocked out of you, no. Rather itâs by the crack in the perspex that is not only letting in the toxicities of the Pandoran air but also the water of the creek in which you have fallen. You know this memory all too well, despite how you do your best to pretend it doesnât exist.
Youâre drowning, in every aspect one is able to.
It becomes too much, too real for you to relive, and you fight your hardest to break off the connection with Eywa abruptly. The gasping nearly translates, almost conveying through your body in real time as you jerk your neural queue back from the branch to which you connected it. You canât even take a breath to calm yourself down, still stuck underwater and meters from the surface. Movements fraught, you reach for anything to root yourself, to catch a single calming moment.
And itâs Neteyam, who you come in contact with first. Your hand grips onto his arm; hold tight and unrelenting. His palm is covering yours in an instant, breaking from his own queue in without a single hesitation. The look on his face is questioning, concerned, as he does his best to silently search for what is wrong. You shudder, try to stop the trembling of your body the best you can with no ounce of succeeding. Why would Eywa show you such a memory? Why now?
Neteyamâs hold on your hand tightens as he pries it off his arm. Unsure of what he is doing, worried he is going to let go, you watch intently (fearfully) as he moves it. But his actions wave that away promptly as he takes your hand and places it to his chest.Â
Directly over his heart.
He nods his head at you, reaches forward to put his free palm on your chest too. Like a way of saying you can do this, youâve done this. Allow yourself to calm down and listen to my heartbeat and we can settle this together .Â
Because itâs always together, isnât it?
Neteyam keeps his palm to your chest until he feels it slow back to its near resting pace. But even then, he does not pull away for a few more moments, a few more steady beatsâlike he needs to be truly sure that you are alright, now. Heâs tentative when he retracts his touch, pulls his hands away to go back to keeping himself afloat in the water, and you let the memory fade from you.
But not before remembering one final detail of it.
Youâre about to raise your own hands to gesture him a thank you, mimic a sign that Tsireya taught you when you were first learningâyou feel like all youâre conveying to Neteyam lately is some form of appreciation; he better not be getting a big head about itâbut before you can, the branches all around you begin flickering. Flashing and blinking in the most erratic way. Your heads whip around for the source, and you donât think youâve ever felt the blood drain from your fingers as fast as it does now when you spot it.
Kiri is convulsing, body rigid and tight. You and Neteyam swim to her instantly, Tsireya reaching over and disconnecting her from the Spirit Tree and pushing her body upward. Neteyam takes over once he gets to her, holds her close and swims to the surface as quickly as possible.Â
Everything feels like itâs moving too fast and too slow at the same time as you break through the surface and Neteyam drags Kiri over to his ilu. You and Rotxo help him push her up onto it, and feeling her body like thisâlimp, lifelessâhas tears welling in your wet eyes.Â
âWhat is wrong? What is it?â Tuk calls, whines out as youâre doing your best to get Kiri adjusted briskly.Â
âIt was a seizure,â Neteyam huffs before bending down to give her instant mouth to mouth.
âWatch her head,â you voice, hands shaking as you help hold it in place so he can breathe life into your faint sister again. You pray to Eywa, to anyone , that this will not be where your sister enters eternal sleep. âKiri, please. â
âIs she breathing?â Rotxo questions, and he sounds just as concerned as you do, just as rushed even as he repeats himself.Â
Then, in a beat that has you shuddering out a ragged sigh, Kiri lets out a puff of a breath. Relief floods your bones but only in fragments. Sheâs breathing, yes, but for how long? When will another seizure come on? When will this turn awry again? Urgency stays rooted in your chest as you push back from Neteyamâs ilu.Â
âGet her to the village,â Tsireya orders, already pulling Tuk onto her ilu with her. âHurry!â
Neteyam does not need to be told twice. He is sending his ilu forward within the next second, one hand secure on Kiri and the other holding on to his animal. Someone starts to pull at your arm; Rotxo, hauling you to his ilu and advising you to climb on behind him. You do, without question.Â
Your tremor plagued hands latch around his midsection as you try to swallow the worry for your sisterâan impossible feat. Rotxo senses it, notices it, and places a hand over yours in a gesture you canât decipher from reassuring or comforting. Though when it all boils down to it, you suppose it doesnât matter.Â
Because youâre indebted to it regardless.Â
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Kiri is brought to your familyâs marui the second your convoy reaches the island, and you refuse to leave her side for anything. You sit beside her, holding her hand and watching as her chest rises and falls with every breath she takes. Maybe itâs a bit irrational, but it almost feels like if you look away sheâll stopâlike your attention is the only thing keeping the rhythm going. So you stay in place and keep your focus, for Kiriâs sake and your own.Â
Jake called in Norm and Max without much thought at all. Perhaps it's the human still in him, but seizures are in a pretty well known territory for the scientists from Earth. You canât say you blame him for itâyouâd call in anyone it takes to figure out whatâs wrong with your sister and see her wake upâbut it does make the passing thought cross your mind of how it makes the Metkayina people feel to have skypeople on their land.Â
Maybe that makes you a hypocrite.
The beeping of machines is becoming melodic, everything they have hooked up to Kiri to check her vitals and look for occurrences scattered around on the floor. Norm and Max have been running scans and tests since they first walked in, and theyâve still found nothing. Itâs making you aggravated.Â
âThereâs no bleed. Thereâs no fracture. No effects of hypoxia,â Max states as he studies his tablet screen. He shrugs, seemingly dumbfounded. âBrain looks good.â
Itâs obviously not good, is what you want to mouth off. Something clearly is wrong for her to have a seizure in the middle of a spiritual connection like that. She has no record of it before, no signs leading to something like this happening. There is something going on with your sister, and if they canât seem to figure it out then you would prefer them to just leaveâfamily friends trying their hardest or not.Â
Ronalâs voice is the first thing that has you even slightly veering your attention away from Kiri beside you for the first time in hours. âI see that I am not needed here,â she grumbles, gripes, and you canât say you blame her. Your family has brought in people that overstep her role; you think you would feel pushed away too. She goes to walk back out but Neytiri is quick to grab her.Â
âYou are tsahĂŹk,â she hisses, and you think sheâs brave for doing so at Ronal, now of all times. But something flickers across the womanâs face, and she bites her tongue instead of throwing back a hiss to your mother like you expected.Â
âRemove these things,â she orders, voice level, but Neytiri does not convey that when she turns to the scientists beside you.
â Out! â She snaps, already shoving at them like they should have been out of the way before she even requested it. Then again, maybe they shouldâve. âYou have done nothing!â
Jake speaks nervously to Max and Norm at the order, rushing to get their things out and gone. Fearing an angry Neytiri seems to be a universal concurrence among your family and those surrounding. Rightfully so, you believe, so you shove the cuffs and plugs off of Kiri as well, tossing them haphazardly to Norm as he scrambles to get all the equipment.Â
They are out in less than a minute, their things shoved just outside the entrance of the hut. Jake follows them out, leaving to speak with Max and Norm about what they think the cause is, youâre sure. But you are over paying any mind to them and you are not given the opportunity to listen in anyways because Ronal is handing you an incense-esque bowl a moment later.
You cradle it as she begins her ritualâfor cleansing, healingâand do your best to keep steady hands while doing so. She presses the wood along Kiriâs skin in a line, a practiced pattern as she mumbles sacred words to herself. Over and over again this continues. You pass the holder to Tuk when it is time to turn Kiri onto her side, so that you can assist Ronal to hold her there. Youâre willing to do everything needed for this to work, willing to offer whatever help you can.Â
Kiriâs on her back once again, Tuk cradling her head in her lap as you rub your thumb over her knuckles. Ronal breathes in against her stomachâonce, twiceâthen leans up to funnel the air out. Once more, she repeats this, and just as she leans up to exhale it all again, Kiriâs eyes flutter.
She blinks hazily into consciousness, eyes disoriented as she regrasps reality in the moment. You allow it now, the feeling of relief to blanket you fully. Your sister is breathing and awake; she is okay, even if that means just for this segment of time.Â
âKiri,â Tuk sighs, watery eyes threatening to overflow. âYouâre awake.â
It starts with a quiver of her lips, a crinkle of her eyes; a cry wracks out of Kiriâs lips as she fully wakes up. You tighten your grip on her hand, lean forward to cup her face and wipe away the tears that begin to stream down as Neytiri whispers sweet comforts to her. You allow the relief to flow through you, but you find that it does nothing to stop the cracking of your heart at seeing your sister in such a state.
Nevertheless, you turn to Ronal, who is now collecting her things back on the tray she carried them in on. She kneels near you to reach for a certain container and you drop Kiriâs hand for a single moment, just to touch her arm. Her gaze snaps to you instantly, caught off guard, and you offer up a wobbly smile.Â
âThank you.â Itâs all you say, all you can get out, before you release your grip and pick up your sisterâs hand again. Ronal nods to you, commiserating, and stands to give your family a moment of privacy.Â
As your attention falls back onto Kiri, you mumble another string of gratitude under your breath. Just in passing, merely minor. You may be at slight odds with Eywa right now for her own personal showcases towards you, but you find the need to thank her for the protection of your sister despite that. So that is what you do.
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
You canât sleep. Something that has seemingly become a rather normal occurrence for you within the passing weeks, but especially now.Â
Every time you cave into slumber, youâre jolting awake just mere minutes later. Whether itâs from the fear that you need to check and make sure your sister is still breathing next to you, nightmares about whatever the hell could be happening to your brother, or that unfair memory the Great Mother decided to plant in your mind againâany scenario has you unable to get any sufficient means of rest.Â
Hence you find yourself where you are now. Sitting on the edge of the netting outside of your familyâs marui, legs dangling over the edge as you stare down at the very water which chooses to beset your nightmares. Itâs funny how something so crucial to oneâs life can cause such a hindrance in yours.
The netting beside you dips and for once it doesnât cause you to jump. Probably the sleep deprivation making your nerves shot, if you gave a half-assed guess on the matter. Neteyam, is who you expect it to be, though youâre not sure why heâs the first person to surge through your mind as a possibility. You suppose you can add that to the list of things that are keeping you up at night.Â
But when you turn to greet who has joined you at this late hour, you find that it is not Neteyam after all; but Jake. He looks at you with a soft expression, a contented sort of diction. You donât miss the hairline crease between his brows though, even in the dark.Â
âWhatâs going on in that head of yours, babygirl?â He queries, and you fight the urge to bubble out a laugh. Because of course he picks up on it and of course he comes right out with it instead of trying to sugar coat his way in.Â
Jake is a good father at every baseline margin, even if there are some things he can work on. Heâs known to be a little too harsh (with Loâak and Neteyam especially), or a tad too overlooking (according to Tuk and Kiri), but it is all done in the name of family preservation; a safety net to catch everyone in case they fall. He has his quirks, like any parent does, but he is doing his finest in the only way he knows how.Â
To you, that has always translated more explicitly.Â
Truth be told, you think he is so forthcoming with you because your origins are one in the same. His other children are hybrids, so he sincerely tries his hardest to empathize with the trials they face from that. But when it comes to you; he knows. He knows exactly what it feels like, having your soul transferred into a body of an entirely different species. Exactly what it feels like, to now share the same skin but not the same heritage. To face the things you do, the glares you receive, the distrust you are bestowed.Â
He believes he understands all too well what it is like to live a life like yours, so he conveys that to you the best he can. And yet he does not truly get it himself, you surmise.Â
Because even heâJake Sully, the great Toruk Mactoâwas eventually accepted with open arms into the hearts of the Naâvi, and the closest thing youâve ever received to favorable reception was tight lipped smiles paired with the halfhearted decency to at least not call you a pariah to your face and instead whisper it behind your back.Â
But you choose not to worry with formalities such as that. Or at least pretend you donât, anyways, for the sake of your momentary sanity.Â
âNothing,â you respond with a shrug, a shake of your head. Adding more onto your fatherâs plate is not in your interest. Youâve already caused enough trouble, you do not wish to stir up alarm along with it. âJust not tired.â
Your body must have a vendetta against youâprobably retaliation from depriving it of sleepâbecause as soon as you say it a yawn is cracking your jaw open. You try to stifle it, but itâs no use. Thereâs no hiding it and you donât even really have it in you to attempt such a feat.
âThat so?â Heâs smiling; even though you arenât looking at him you can hear the amusement in his voice. But his tone takes a pivotal dip directly afterwards, turns somber in a wink. âSeriously, tell me whatâs going on. Is it your brother?âÂ
Yes , you want to confirm, agree with his assumptionâbut thatâs not really the true root of the problem, is it? Spider is only one of the variables, a singular plot point on the declining graph of your stability, but he isnât the sole cause of the drop.Â
Your fingers fiddle with each other, five to five as you try to stave off the attention.Â
â(Y/n), câmon.â Heâs pressing, keen. His heavy hand comes to rest on your shoulder and you cannot help but lean into the comfort of the accustomed touch. âWe stick together, remember? How can I help you if you wonât tell me whatâs eatinâ you?â
You suppose he has a point. This family is always so driven for solidarity, so determined to do things hand in hand. Maybe, you stave off on that too much. Maybe, you do not live up to your found familyâs staple ideal enough. Perhaps you can give in, open up, just ever so slightly. Just this once.Â
âIâm.. scared.âÂ
Itâs vague, open-ended enough that you think it to be something easy to pass. But even so, it is the truth. There is no falsity in your statement, no fray in the cords that bind it together. You are scared; and that fact alone should do well enough to quell your father.Â
âAlright,â Jake sighs through his nose, squeezes your shoulder in a way only a parental figure does. He pauses for a moment, like heâs contemplating how he wants to go from here. âIs something gettinâ to you specifically, or..?â
You shake your head in response, try not to blow out a cynical chuckle at the implication. Of course there are things getting to you specifically âthat much should be blatantly obvious. But you do not feel like adding onto that at this stage, and you think that comfort for generality would do just as well as comfort for specificity, so you are more than willing to settle for the former.Â
âOkay,â he nods, shifts over to pull you closer to him, into the warmth of his side. He leans his cheek to the top of your head, turns just enough to press a faint kiss there before settling back against your crown. âYou donât have to be scared of anything. Iâll always be right here. Donât forget that, babygirl.â
And even if it might seem trivial later on, even if it becomes insignificant, his words hold just enough weight right now that you allow yourself to relax. Eyelids fluttering shut, you rest against your stand-in father as he rubs soothing circles into your shoulder.Â
You arenât sure when it is that you finally drift off to sleep, or how you get back into your cot, but that night is the first night you get more than a blink of rest in a while.Â
And you donât feel the smallest inkling of scared, even if itâs for just one single, peaceful moment.Â
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Kiri hasâunderstandablyânot quite been herself since the incident.
Well actually, it isnât particularly out of character for her to become a little moody or withdrawn every now and again. She has her days (which normally youâre always keyed into right along with her), but itâs different now. The awe sourced light that is usually shining behind her crystal irises has dimmed. Her liveliness has diminished.Â
Like sheâs becoming a shell of herself, so she doesnât have to feel anything at all.Â
Aching becomes a common sensation, a near habitual feeling the more you stay around herâbut you just canât bring yourself to leave her side. If she is going to close herself off, then you are going to put your foot in the door; create a crack to break the bridge between her and impending isolation.
Youâre placed beside her even now, as your family stands around within your marui tidying things up. By the rules, everyone is supposed to deal with their own belongings and if someone wants to help once done with their own, then they can. Those rules seem nugatory; trifling, now.
Kiri has been making work of tying up her sleeping mat for a good five minutes straight now, but in reality sheâs only been fiddling with the string tied around it for the past three. Be that as it may, you choose to pick up her slack instead of drawing attention to her lack of productivity.Â
Being sloppy is not in your nature when it comes to things like this (perhaps you have a slim case of post traumatic stress from Neytiriâs scolding for doing things messily as a child) so you find it hard to rush through doing double the work. Near stressful, it would be, yet it doesnât get the chance to progress to such a stage because a hand is reaching down to grab up your mat while youâre focused on regrouping some of Kiriâs belongings.Â
Neteyam presses his lips together in a tight smileâa passing of a deliberate glanceâand begins rolling your mat up in the exact way you like it to be done. You try to tell yourself that itâs nothing but expected that heâs aware you prefer to double knot the binding instead of single after all these years of knowing one anotherâitâs not like you arenât also aware of how he favors the order of his effects in his pack to beâand even still, it has a butterfly hatching in your stomach as you take note of it.
Youâre just about through with the remainder of Kiriâs and yourâs things when you hear the first one. A horn, being blown out to sound the arrival of.. what? It has all of your heads turningâwell, except for Kiri, who doesnât even offer up a tip of her head, let alone a full turnâto the entrance of your hut.
âWhat was that?â Tuk pipes up as she drops her mat (very poorly rolled up, youâll fix it later when she isnât looking) to go and see what the fuss is about.Â
âWhatâs going on?â Loâak builds onto the inquiry as everyone of your family apart from you and your sister venture towards the netted pathway.Â
âThe tulkun have returned!â Itâs Tsireya, you recognize the faint trill of her voice as it passes by in a sweep. Sheâs probably on her ilu, sent by her parents to make the announcement to everyone if you had to assume. âEverybody, our brothers and sisters have returned!â
One by one, Loâak of course making his beeline first, each member of your family dips out of your home and away from sight as they go to investigate further. The tulkun have returned, they have completed a migration cycle and come back home to their Metkayina family, and you want to go see, but..
Your gaze flickers to Kiri, who has yet to move even an inch, despite the fact that you know she heard Tsireyaâs bulletin. A few weeks ago, she would have been the first to run out of here, the first to see their grand homecoming. You try to think of something to say, a way to suggest maybe going to look that your sister would actually be inclined to accept.
However, your youngest sister is bouncing back in before you can even come up with one good solution. âKiri! (Y/n)! Come on, come on!â Tuk bounds, running over to the two of you and grabbing each of your hands in her own.Â
âTuk, leave me alone,â Kiri huffs, tries to pull her hand back from Tukâs hold but itâs no use. Sheâs already heaving the pair of you to your feet. Exasperated, a groan drags out of Kiriâs chest. â What? What do you want?â
âLook!â
As soon as youâre hauled out of your marui and blinking in the sunlit view, youâre hit with a wave of amazement so compelling that you wonder for a second whether you need to sit back down to regain yourself. The tulkun are all banking in, calling for their Naâvi counterparts, like theyâre harmonizing a welcome home melody.
Itâs nothing short of magnificent.
âCome on,â Tuk beams, âLetâs go meet them!â
As you let Tuk drag you along, you turn your head to catch Kiriâs gaze, and the sight youâre greeted with nearly has the stunning reunion before you paling in comparison. A smile, stretched wide and dimpled into her svelte cheeks, is on full display. No more cinched brows, no more pursed lips.
Just pure, unadulterated joy. Radiating like a gleaming sun.
Your expression mirrors it; you wouldnât be able to stop the grin even if you tried. The ache grows dull, faint between your ribcage. You release Tukâs hand so she can drag Kiri towards her ilu as you get to the shore, finally feeling secure enough to let her go. To see her thrive, again.
Flitting your eyes across the span of shoreline and aquatic celebration ahead, you pause at the sight of someone specific still standing on dry land. It catches you off guard, has curiosity rolling to the tip of your tongue; because why is he not already in the water, embracing such a momentous occasion with everyone else?
âWhy are you still here?â You nudge Neteyam slightly, breaking his attention from the show in front of him and focusing it all entirely on you, instead.
âI was waiting for you,â he says, candidly, like it should be obvious. Like there is no other possible reason heâd still be stuck on shore with his ilu drifting nearby. You try not to blunder.
âYou didnât have to wait for me.â
âIâll always wait for you,â he adheres as he wades into the shallows to climb onto his companion. His hand is reaching out for yours promptly, a proposition to join him, and you take it with no more than a sliver of hesitation.Â
Biting back grins is apparently not a strong suit of yours today, because the tilt of your lips gives way easily. You walk through the water, letting the cool waves lap at your shins, and mount right behind him. He drops your hand only when you go to hold onto him; a ghost of reluctance shadowing his face. The obscurity flickers away in a blink, though, and heâs tossing you one more smile over his shoulder before taking offâheading to the heart of the celebration.
You donât think youâve ever seen anything quite so moving.
Metkayinas young and oldâsome merely babiesâswim and float amongst the water to meet with their spirit brothers and sisters. Witnessing relationships between bonded pairs is one of the most transcendent honors one can bestow in their lifetime; that is what Neytiri used to tell each of you when watching your siblings create their first affixion. You never doubted that sentiment, but now it rings truer than you thought it ever could.
A tulkun breaches out of the water to your left, their Naâvi pair doing the same; a mimic of each other, a mirror of souls. It is not deliberate, of course, yet its fin edges dangerously close as it begins to descend back to the waves itâs created. You suck in a breathâsolely out of surpriseâbut you are thankful you have done so a moment later because Neteyam is sending his ilu into a dive. Quick thinking, he has, to weave the pair of you out of the way in just the knick of time. Heâs rising out of the water as soon as itâs clear, turning back to you before you can even draw a proper inhale in.
âSorry I didnât give any warning. I shouldâve told you before I justââ
âItâs okay, Neteyam,â you reassure through a chuckle at his rushing, wiping at your eyes. âIâm fine. Can we do it again?â
He loosens up, relaxes in a way that you can feel his back become more pliable against you as he nods. You regain your grip on him around his abdomen, lock your hands so youâre better prepared this time. A boyish grin is what he flashes to you after which he sucks in a gust of airâwhich you copyâbefore heâs sending his ilu forward at a downward angle once again.
Captivating is the view of the tulkunâs homecoming from above, but bewitching is it once you are blanketed in oceanic blue.
ChildrenâNaâvi and tulkun alikeâare being introduced for the very first time. Families are reuniting. They are swimming in sync, like their hearts beat as one. You wonder, by chance, if they do. It would not surprise you, would not startle you one bit. Something as special as this must hold well in the sight of Eywa. Must put forth the most profound of links.
You make out Kiri and Tuk, holding onto a tulkunâs fin as it swims through the water, Rotxo hanging onto the bottom of the same one. Still beaming, still light. Such a beautiful sight to be graced with. Too beautiful, maybe.Â
Perhaps you should have better bearings on yourselfâperhaps, you should not let yourself be swayed so easily by the things around youâbecause in all your pursuing in the magnificent, you let your mind stray from the focus of holding onto Neteyam tight enough.
By the time you feel your grip loosening itâs too late. Your heart skips a beat, your throat constricts in a faux gasp. Right out of your fingers (in the most literal sense) you feel Neteyam begin to slip from you. Itâs plummeting, has your mind already plateauing directly to watery graves.
Yet you donât get any closer to drifting backwards than that. Before you can so much as shift a few inches away, Neteyamâs already reaching back for you. His palm lands on your thigh; circles his grip around the back of it and pulls you back in contact with him. Chest to back, skin to skin. You fully expect him to let go once you loop your arms around him again, but he doesnât. If anything, itâs almost as if heâs holding you tighter.
And you, well.Â
Maybe youâre a little bit tired of trying to bury all the sprouts of affection that want so desperately to bloom out of you. You think you might be well past trying to swallow down the saccharine syrup that longs so desperately to drip off your tongue. So you do not protest, you do not nudge his hand away. You simply cling onto him securely and let your head rest on his shoulder as you take in the show of pure, virtuous love all around you. And you feel your own, blossom in real time.
Youâre content, surprisingly at peace, under the water as reconnecting life bustles every which way. Everyone seems so joyousâand who would have a reason not to be? Tsireya is the next familiar face you spot, and she is quite a bit away so you canât be too sure, but you are near positive she is telling her spirit sister about Loâak by the gestures her hands convey. You know your brother would be giddy at the sight of itâeven if he would try to act gruff to hide itâso you lift your head to look for him.Â
He isnât far (as if he would put too much distance between him and Tsireya, that fact should be obvious), just floating near the surface with his face a smidgen below the waves to peer beneath him. But it is not the lighthearted, love-struck expression you thought you were going to find outlining his features as he watches them. If you had to choose a single word to describe it, you think youâd have to go with yearning. And somehow, you know it is not romantic in nature.
Nor is it directed towards the chiefâs daughter.Â
ââââââââââââââââââââââââââ
Following Loâak without him knowing is concerningly easy.
After alerting Neteyam of your hunches, heâs all too willing to send a little party forward to see just what his little brother is getting up to. The pair of youâalong with Tsireya, Aoânung, and Rotxoâfollow him to the Three Brothers island chain, which only confirms your suspicions as true. And if the location was not sufficient enough, diving and finding him face to face with the fabled Payakan would have certainly concluded your hypothesis.
Observing him speak to the tulkun is easy enough (though youâd be lying if the whole âkillerâ title didnât still leave an off putting churn in your gut), but it is when Payakan opens his mouth that you decide this is not a good idea after all.Â
Loâak has always been so trusting, so unquestioning when it comes to things heâs already set his mind on being true. And now, as he swims forward without even a single falter of uncertainty into the whaleâs open mouth, you find this case is no different.Â
You were fine to watch him converse. You were fine to see him swim forward (stupidly). But as soon as Payakan closes his mouth around your brother, you are no longer fine at all.Â
Surging forward, your only thought is to save him; which must be an ideal you and Neteyam share because his movements are the same. However, before either of you can get any more than a foot ahead, the chiefâs children are grabbing at you. You send a glare back at Aoânung, a question of concern for why he would still you. He simply signs for you to stopâwait.
There is nothing you can do now except bide the time until Payakanâhopefullyâspits your brother back out of his immense jaws. It feels like hours but you know it is no more than a few minutes when your internal turmoil comes to a close as the sight of your brother begins to peek out of the monstrous tulkun before you. When he emerges there is something different about him, something despondent. Itâs nearly palpable, the energy radiating as he swims back up to the surface.
Heâs created a bond. But, simultaneously, heâs created a fissure. And you are not too enticed with the premise of how it will break.
Returning to the mainland, you find yourself drifting protectively towards Loâak as Tsireya goes to alert her parents of what has occurred. Tonowari and Ronal do not speak as they lead your groupâminus Rotxo, who was gifted the unfair pleasure of slipping away from whatever is to become of thisâto their marui. Ronal waits for everyone, stands to the side to make sure all of you fall in before she trails behind you.
The tension is nearly tangible.
âYou allowed this,â she huffs at her children as she stalks into the hut. But then, her focus shifts, lines up directly with Tsireya as she points an accusing finger to your brother. âYou allowed him to bond with the outcast!â
Tonowari is circling in too, honing in on her. Itâs like watching ikrans pick off a defenseless fan lizard; how could one even fight back to such an obtuse threat? It has your tongue feeling heavy in the bed of your mouth, like a lead slate.Â
âTsireya,â the chief addresses. Tone solemn, grim. âYou disappoint me, daughter.â Heâs turning to Loâak directly after, the same timbre used, the same expression carved into his strong features. âAnd you. Son of a great warrior. Who has been taught better. â
âPayakan saved my life, sir,â Loâak responds immediately, diligently. Itâs almost deja vu to when he was explaining Payakan for the first time to all of you. You remember the lilt in his speech so prominently. Recall the sentiment behind it all. âYou donât know him.â
âNo, Loâak,â Tsireya hearkens; to save face, to stop another disagreement. To keep peace, is the bottom line. You understand her need to do such, but for some reason you hesitate to get behind it.
Your parents are here, now. Jake and Neytiri stand at the edge of the hut, just inside. Maybe thatâs where Rotxo wentâto inform them of this meeting that was sure to happen. That falls into line with him, you think, but a piece of you wishes they had not been told. Their presence looming behind you feels formidable. Much like Tonowariâs gaze as he studies each of you.
âSit,â he utters once, as he begins to lower himself. âSit,â he orders again, to which Loâak is the only one to obey his request. Then, he grows aggravated, demanding. â Sit down! â he raises his voice, and you have never taken a seat faster in your life.
You toss a glance to Tsireya, who has been near tears this entire time. Her self control is admirable, her strength is not one to be overlooked, because even though the tears well to the brink of overflow, not a single one falls. Your stomach twists as you shift focus back to Tonowari, contempt carving into the base of your skull.
âHear my words, boy.â His voice is softer now, not as sharp, but it still holds authoritative weight. Commanding of respect, attention. âIn the days of the first songs, tulkun fought amongst themselves. For territory, and for revenge. But they came to believe that killingâno matter how justifiedâonly brings more killing. So killing was forbidden. This is the tulkun way.â Itâs blunt, honest. This story has been told before, one can tell. But the last bit of information has not, and that you are well aware of. âPayakan is a killer. So, he is outcast.â
It is easy to notice how no one expects there to be room for discussion now. How they believe this will be the end and your brother will simply agree and settle for his slap on the wrist. But you know Loâak far better than that, so it comes as no surprise to you when heâs shaking his head beside you before Tonowari can even get his final words out fully.
âIâm sorry, sir, but youâre wrong.âÂ
And there it is: the discrepancy.
It was different, before when he was just telling your young family and friends about his beliefs and they admonished him and brushed him to the side. He wanted to be heard but he settled on being muted for the sake of complacency. He wanted people to listen but was fine with being drowned out. Storming off, ignoring your calls; he did so to put a stake in the matter and leave it dead and hanging.
But now, thereâs a glint in his eye. A quiver in his brow. He was fine with being rebuked before, but now?
â Loâak, â Neytiri jeers at her son. And that unnerves you. âYou speak to Oloâeyktan.â
He doesnât budge. âI knowââ
âThatâs enough,â Jake cuts inâsomething he seems to always be so damn good at.
It causes Loâak to falter, bite his tongue for just a moment. Tsireya shakes her head at him, telling him to fall back. And you get it, truly, but itâs just so.. Aggravating.Â
How can they so blatantly disregard him? How can they muffle his screams of wanting to be heard like a bind around the mouth without a single shred of guilt? Why can they not just listen?
On a last stitch effort to be taken into account, Loâak lets go of his tongue. He shrugs his shoulders and puffs out a condescending breath. âI know what I know.â
âThat's enough, â Jake reiterates, crouching down to Loâakâs level to give him a stony glare. âIâll deal with this one,â he converses to Tonowari, before his hand is circling your brotherâs bicep and tugging him up and out of the tent.
It leaves you feeling irate, in the most raw form, because this whole situation is just so demoralizing. Anger knows nothing but to simmer or scorch, to bubble or burn, and right now your pot is overflowing. And perhaps your hands have grown clumsy, because instead of pulling it off the burner, you twist the dial to high heat.
âMy brother is no liar.â The words leave your mouth before you even think them and youâre rising to your feet. Part of you expects your knees to feel wobbly, buckling, but they do not. âIf he says Payakan is no killer, then he isnât.â
Ronal steps in immediately. âYour brother is ignorant. He knows nothing. Maybe, if he were true of his kind, he would not be so witless.â
Oh, and that? That strikes a nerve in you. Avoiding trouble, remaining quiet and content and compliant to save your family the strife; that all drains out of you now. Like a switch has been flipped. You have had enough.
âHe knows more than you will everâ â
âYou watch your tongue,â Neytiri hisses as she yanks you back by the wrist. She does nothing more than send the tsahĂŹk a heated glance before sheâs pulling you out of the marui just like Loâak had been dragged out before.
She doesnât even get far before sheâs whipping around to fix you with a venomous glare, her grip still not releasing. It must be near bruising now. You strain against it but there is no use; youâd have a better chance breaking free from the claws of a feral mountain banshee than that of Neytiri. You know that and you give in, but it doesnât mean youâre willing to back down from your credence.
âWhat are you thinking? â Itâs a question, but she isnât really asking. âThat is the Oloâeyktan. The tsahĂŹk. You show them leioae only. Only. â [ ârespect.â ]
âThey did not show it to Loâak,â you spit back, and youâre treading some dangerous waters here, truthfully. But why stop paddling if youâve already lost sight of land? âThey did not even listen to what he had to say. That is your son, he wants to be heardââ
âMy son speaks foolishly.â There is no hesitation in her deliverance, no pause to think about it. Yet you must admit you can also detect no malice. âAnd so do you. No thinking before you talk. Disgrace.â
Itâs suddenly hard to swallow because her statement is so dense. Her grip feels numbing now but not because it is tight. Disgrace, she says. And it makes you sick how easily it rolls off the tongue. You wonder if she even caught onto what Ronal was inferring in her last statement. If she even realized she was scorning his identityâmore specifically one half of it; condemning it.Â
If she even cared how that made you feel.
âIââ
âDo not speak.â
Someone has pulled the plug on the oven. Someone has doused water on the stove top. Your simmering has cooled to a misty vapor. Your petulance has been frozen to icy shards. Neytiri tells you not to speak so you sew your mouth shut, let nothing slip past the seam.
âYou do nothing like this again.â A decree, an injunction. âDistractions, disrespect. It is too much. One more misstep, and..â She trails off, like she canât even find the words for the threat sheâs about to make past her disappointment. You think it meaningless anyways; you have already heard enough.
âOkay.â You say it to save yourself from whatever she could possibly spit out. âI will do nothing like this again.â
Itâs bitter, tart. But then again lies have never tasted too well on your tongue. It does not need to bode well with you, merely just enough to get Neytiri to give in. After a few bated breaths of her staring at you, it seems to do the trick. She releases your wrist (the blood pumping once again) and departs without another word.Â
However, you should know better than to get ahead of yourself and think you are off the hook of scoldingâbecause no more than a few seconds after Neytiri is drifting from your sight, her first born is stepping into it.Â
âNo,â you shake your head, turn on your heel to trudge off in the opposite direction. âNot doing this.â
âStop,â Neteyam says, announces, and his voice is not sweet. It is not warm and light and reassuring in the way that you adore. It is imposing, lofty. It is the voice of an heir in command. âDo not walk away from me.â
âI am not dealing with you right now, Neteyam.âÂ
Being lectured once is bad enough. Being lectured twice by a man who holds the same bleeding heart as his mother is a fate worse than death. (Partially an exaggeration, you must admit, but it does not feel like one now).
âI said, stop. â Itâs uncharacteristically harsh; his tone, his diction. You would not call it violent, but perhaps would dip your toe into the pool of aggressive. Not in a way that frightens you, or harms you, but in a way that twinges. In a way that pangs.Â
In a way that has you hissing as your tail is yanked back far more forceful than it has ever been before.
âYou do not pull my tail,â you shriek, shove at his chest and tug it out of his grasp. Being scolded is one thing. Being disrespected is another. âI have told you alreadyââ
âIf you would listen to me, I would not have to,â he fires back, tips his head at you. âHow could you say such a thing to the tsahĂŹk? Do you have no regard?â
â Me? â You gape, cinch your brows at him. âShe is the one with none. They do not care for us. Ronal speaks of Loâak like he is a blot in Naâvi existence. How does that deserve any respect from me?â
âIt does not matter how she speaks of him,â he dismisses. âShe is the chiefâs mate. She helped save Kiri. You would not dare speak to Moâat that way.â
âYour grandmother had enough respect for me that she did not deface my identity.â Hissing at Neteyam is not something you would like to do, but it comes out easily now. He is not getting it, not grasping your standpoint. âI donât expect you to understand the way I feel, but I ask that you do not dismiss it.â
âYou think I donât understand?â He rags, stares at you incredulously. âI understand very well how it feels to be an outcast. To be a freak. â
âBut you donât, Neteyam!âÂ
Youâre tipping, losing control of yourself. Arguing solves nothing, confrontation only leads to more, but it has apparently become your theme today. You run your hands down your face. Youâre exasperated, fed up. Nobody seems to get it.
âWhy do you think youâve been the one with the least amount of problems since coming here, hm? â You question him, try not to shy back from the heat buzzing between the two of you. âDo you think Aoânung backs off when you tell him to just because youâre the oldest? Because he feels some connection to you since you used to be next in line of our clan?â
Youâre going too far, youâre being too mean. But you cannot stop now. Itâs like you have no control over yourself anymore, like even if you try to lock your jaw to keep the words in theyâll simply crack open your mandible to escape.Â
âHow come when Loâak, Kiri, and I were all being poked and prodded like animals, were you not lumped into that?â Itâs vile, how the words translate amongst your tastebuds. But even the tough pills need to be swallowed. âThey show you respect because you donât look like some freak lab experiment. If they were not told, they would not know you were not a full-blooded one of them. They see you as true Naâvi, above the rest of us.â
Neteyam says nothing, simply holds your gaze. You take note of him now; his lack of hairlined brows, his wide set eyes, his thick digits that clench at his sides with one less finger than your own on each hand. Itâs a privilege, an exemption. A justifiable right to be a little zealous.Â
Yet, guilt sprinkles in, litters itself along the hems of your mind. You resign it with a hello.
âI do not say this to belittle what you go through. And it hurts my heart to know you feel like you do,â you state. Lower, with less edge. Your head drops, your gaze drifts to your feet in the sand beneath you. âItâs just.. Different. Loâak does not feel as accepted here as you do. I do not feel as accepted anywhere as Loâak.â
The origin of your outburst, the cause of your conniption. It has all boiled down to this. Funny, how the words seemed to flow so easily before when they were full of vexation, but now that theyâre coated in vulnerability they string along as stubbornly as molasses.Â
âIt is hard. Knowing no matter where you go, you never truly belong there.â Youâre muttering so quietly youâre not sure if he can even hear you. But maybe if he canât, maybe if this falls on deaf ears, that is even for the better. âItâs like.. no one ever really views you as a person because they are too busy picking your existence apart. Or even worse, ignoring it. Like no one even sees you, at all.â
You debate laughing it all off as soon as you finish talking. Brushing it away with a shrug of your shoulders and offering up an apology to Neteyam for your harsh words. Thatâs what would be right to doâwhat the you before you let yourself become a mess would deem acceptable. You really have made such a muddled up disarray of everything, havenât you? How foolish of you. Neytiri was right.
Neteyamâs hands raise and you flinch; back to being jumpy, to being resigned. Like trying to scoop up soup with cupped palmsâa futile attempt to pretend you never spilt it in the first place when the spices always stick to your fingertips.
You are not sure what you are expecting from him, but his hands reaching for your face isnât it. They cup your cheeks gently, with great care, as he tips your head back up to meet his gaze. The hostile air from before is gone, the assertive undertone of his grip has vanished to nothing. He cradles your face with such tenderness; like youâre made of glass, like he is scared to break you.
His eyes are searching, analyzing. Or are they? Thereâs something swirling in them as pink begins to color one side of his face a delicate lilac from the setting sun. Under his scrutiny, you fight the urge to shrivel. Neteyam has always made you comfortable, put you at ease. But lately he has been dangling you over the ledge of.. what?
Your throat bobs with a swallow. Neteyam takes note of it, letting his eyes skirt over your troubled features. His thumb brushes past the apple of your cheek and as it sweeps across your temple it catches the edge of your eyebrow. He doesnât shy from it, doesnât pull his hand back in dismay. You arenât sure why you half expect him to.Â
Then, heâs leaning in. Pressing so close you can feel the necklace you made him hit against your chest at the proximity, can feel the middle shell against your sternum. He lifts one hand to turn in front of you, dragging the knuckle of his index finger along the bridge of your nose. Less flat, more humanistic than his own. He gets to the tip then drags his finger back up, skimming across your skin, over the silk of your brow and expanse of your striped forehead before it settles back onto your cheek. Like itâs meant to be there, like it was molded by Eywa herself just for you to slot into.
â I see you, Ma (Y/n),â he speaks with certainty, conviction. Your breath hitches and your heart lurches within your ribcage. âOel ngati kameie. Frakrr. â [ âAlways.â ]
And it feels almost inane, frivolous, how you catch yourself reacting. This is not the first time you and Neteyam have said these words to each other, but it feels different, somehow. The days of childish appreciation have gone, become stone walled by adult conflicts and mature contest. Neteyam waits for you, adheres to you, and you find yourself entrapped in his guise.Â
You place your hand on top of his, lean into his touch and allow yourself this solace. Your eyes slip shut as he closes in, presses his lips to your forehead before resting his own against it in a show of affection so genuine it nearly causes your stomach to turn.
Apologies will be delivered laterâto Neteyam, for diminishing his grievances; to Ronal, for speaking against her even though you still believe yourself to be rightâbut for now, this is enough. You let yourself indulge in this bit of selfishness, in this sliver of greed. Allowing yourself to be a mess mid-mending for this one portion of your life, in the only hands you trust to put the pieces of you back together.
Like a shattered vase, being cured by its potter.Â
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youâre my midnight moon
Part 3/3: does time heal all wounds?
word count: 2323
Thinking about doing a bonus chapter with smut, let me know! Hope you like the fluffy angst!
You starred down at the note. It had been brought here the other day and had it done nothing but haunt you ever since it arrived. It was an invitation to the festival that was taking place in two months. Each district had one in each of the walls and anyone was free to go between them. It would take a while to prepare and all of humanity was helping. But this invitation was from Armin. More of a letter than a formal invitation, but he wanted you to go to the festival with him.
To reconnect, my old friend.
Old friend.
Suppose that was less awkward than old lover. But even then you and Armin had not even been lovers then. Both not having time and being too shy to go that far in your relationship.
Still, this was an opportunity to make amends for your past. For abandoning him. So you wrote back.
Dear old friend...
______
Despite the fact that you lived in the same district as Armin, you had managed to barely see in in the months leading up to the festival. You didnât exactly do this on purpose, it seemed that your mind was attempting to protect yourself. When you would see him in the market, a bar, just out in town, you conveniently remembered what you had to do at home, go somewhere else. You ignored when you felt his gaze on you. You never engaged with him. You felt like a mole, hiding from the sun itself.
Sasha had come one day, filled with questions. She spared no time opening you up, though if anyone could it would be her. You cried together for your fallen comrades, for the awful memories, and your once lost connection. Your connection that was quickly rekindled after that day. Her kind, but at times brash words had given you the confidence to have this closure with all of your old friends, most of all Armin of course.
Which brings us to the festival
The town square in wall Cana was alive with all spurts of sights and sounds. Hoards of drunk soldiers and civilians alike sung their new bar songs; written about humanityâs victory.
âOn the ground were their heads
As our mighty scouts caught them dead
Swinging their swords they cut those bastards down
Some say there were no blades just Leviâs frown
Our mighty scouts they slayed the beasts
So now we feast!
For the Titans are gone let's have some fun!
And humanity has WON!!â
The thick smell of well missed meat filled the whole district. Families had opened their doors with warm, home cooked meals inside. Food stalls were set up, with no charge. It truly felt as if humanity was at peace.
In the midst a group of soldiers in particular, more jovial than most, some say they saw hell more that Levi himself.
âSASHA SLOW THE HELL DOWN!â Connie smacked the back of her neck, effectively shooting the peace of meat she was choking on, out of her throat.
âAh!â Jean leaped out of the way of the projectile meat âyou didnât even chew it you monster!â
Sasha looked like she was about to cry as Mikasa held on to her, keeping her from picking up the steak from the ground. âI couldnât help it, I havenât had cow in so long.â
âSo savor it you idiot.â Eren rolled his eyes, Armin chuckled.
You were a few steps away from the group, your slow body separated yourself from the happy group. You didnât want to rain on their parade. Though, you honestly wanted to join it. You had made up as much as you could with all of them...except Armin. Sasha was the only one who took it well enough. The rest of the group said they would need time to fix your friendships. Which was understandable. So, you just let them be content tonight without having to worry about you.
Armin didnât seem to get the âIgnore meâ memo. Shooting glances at you when he thought you couldnât see him. It made you uneasy.
It made you scared that old feelings started to bubble up.
Armin Arlert had the uncanny ability to make you feel like a giggling school girl with what seemed to be only a look. Not that you audibly or visibly made any indication that he did so. But it was impossible for you to think of anything else but: <em>if your simple dress looked ok, was your hair a mess in the humidity or was your face just a tomato at that point?</em>
You tried to keep your head on the cobblestone road, as you tried not to meet any of his gazes. But also because you had stupidly discarded your cane. You didnât need it most of the time, but if you were going to be walking for long periods of time you definitely did. One small miss step would leave you face planted on the ground unable to get up.
âHey (y/n), come-â With your eyes glued to the group you didnât notice Eren being the first one who noticed you trailed behind. And so when he had went to playfully slap your back, ushering you forward it had taken you by compete surprise. So of course your back and legs give way, and you face planted on the stone road.
â(Y/N)!!â They all shouted, they had already turned around when Eren began talking. They rushed to your side, and helped you as you attempted to get up.
Eren looked quiet panicked as Mikasa begun swatting at him to be careful with my weak form. He swore he didnât know the strength of his hit.
âIâve got it, Iâm fine. Itâs ok.â You batted their hands away and attempted to ease Eren. You could feel warm blood as it was trickling from your chin and knees. But you couldnât get up, only on all fours. Humiliatingly unable to move past this point, tears threaten to leave your eyes. Once again, you stared at the cobblestone in compete defeat. âI....I canât move anymore...help.â
Strong arms lifted your body from the road. You were unable to even look at who they belonged to but the soft, familiar smell flooded your nostrils.
âIâve got you.â Armin said, one arm under your bleeding knees, the other held your back and shoulders. âIâll go get her cleaned up, weâll meet you guys later.â He said and before You could even protest he walked from them.
Silence....awful, deafening, horrible silence.
It was almost impossible to tell what he was thinking. His face was blank, you could only detect the blush creeping from his neck to the tips of his ears. Quickly after seeing that, your face matched his.
<em>Did you want to talk to me or should I start?</em>
As if he heard your thoughts âLetâs get you clean and then.. we can talk.â His voice was soft and wavering. You could feel his nervousness, it was clearly heard in his voice.
So per his request you both were silent as he set you down at a table, a distance away from anyone. Families and soldiers were still clearly visible, but their singing and celebration muffled in the distance. He left me for only a second to the well nearby. He took a knife to his shirt and tore the bottom. You were glad it wasnât more than a normal day shirt. But it still had made you feel guilty. Flowey and light blue, it was still a nice shirt despite its simplicity. He dipped a part of the shirt into the bucket which he had drawn and returned to you. The wind whipping his shortened shirt revealing his very muscular torso. You quickly averted your eyes.
He knelt down and lightly wiped the dried blood from your legs before dabbing the wound. Subconsciously your leg twitched, causing him to come down a bit to hard. A sting shot through the wound which caused you to wince.
âSorry!â He quickly lifted his hand, panic in his eyes âI was trying to be gentle.â
âYou were! Donât be sorry...maybe if you held my leg in place it would help.â looking into his blue eyes, you desperately tried to imprint them once again into your mind. He looked away soon after the offer, embarrassed.
Still, red in the face he nodded. He placed his left hand on your calf, his finders gripping softly onto your soft skin. His right hand resumed cleaning the bloody scrape. âDoes that feel better?â He asked, eyes fixed on your leg.
âI uh, still think they are shaking.â You took his hand and placed it in the back of your thigh. He lifted your dress so he had better access to your knee. âThere Iâm still.â
Except now it was Armins hands who were shaking. He finished one side before moving to the next. You easily noted how his hand was significantly higher on this leg than the other.
âAll clean, you should wrap them when you get home though. here let me help you down.â He held out his hand, but you were not ready to let this tender interaction end.
You pointed to your chin, which still had some blood on it. âUh could you get this too.â
He gulped and nodded. You scooted forward on the table and spread your legs so he could come close enough to reach your face. He stepped in between them and lifted his hand to cup your face steady, like your leg, to softly clean your face. Your eyes stared at the table, but his seemed to be going from your cut to your eyes. You could feel with certainty when his blue eyes looked into yours. You continued to stare down, but now because you could not meet his with yours so filled with tears.
Here he was, perfect and soft. Caring for you so tenderly, as if you hadnât completely broken his heart. Left without an trace, an explanation. You didnât deserve his kindness.
âAll..um done.â He stepped away from you, held out his hand to support you.
âThank you Armin. You took it and stepped down carefully. When your feet hit the cold stone you continued to look at it while you stood there. Finally , unable to contain your self, you looked up fully sobbing now.
âArmin Iâm..â your face went in your hands as your trembled âIâm so sorry. I should have ne-â
He interrupted you before you could continue.
âThere is one thing Iâve always regretted. Not telling you how the world can be so beautiful, but I was so lucky to have something, someone beside me who was more beautiful than a sunset creeping over the mountains, or a meadow wildflowers, the star filled night sky or even the ocean. And that was you, is you.â You looked up to meet his love filled gaze, completely star struck at the words that came out of his mouth. The world seemed to slow as he continued.
âIâm so sorry that I didnât fight harder to keep you by my side. I just, I wanted to ask why you stopped loving me, and plead for you to stay but I just let you go.â He looked to the ground, seemingly ashamed for what you thought as innocence, it was you who was to blame.
You stepped into his arms, clinging to him for support. Your legs were weak now, but you also needed him to hold you. His arms had the gift to make all your worries disappeared. âArmin, I-. Itâs not your fault. It was me. After we became scouts and then we were separated, my entire force was wiped out. My friends all gone. I was struck with the realization that life for us so fleeting. And it hurt so bad to see them go, I couldnât and didnât even want to imagine seeing you die. And I didnât want you to hurt if I ever did.â He held your shaking, sobbing body as you struggled to continue.
âI pushed everyone away including you, only to save myself from having to lose you. And I still did. It hurt me so much and every day I regret it. Iâm so sorry Armin. But seeing you again, I- I canât leave you again. I still love you I never stopped. It was too late when I realized that life is fleeting so it is important to find something you live and hold onto it rather than push it away.â
âArmin Arlert I love youâ
Calloused hands lifted your face to his, strong arms lifted you from the ground, soft lips kissed yours. You could taste his salty tears, they mixed with your own. You could feel his love, his hurt, and his relief.
You grabbed onto his silky hair, arms wrapped around his neck. He held your body close to his. You wanted to feel him, closer, connected. Your tongue slid across his lips. He eagerly tilted his head and opened his mouth to yours, now you could taste him. His lips were so soft, so tender parted from you to look at your face. A smile spread across his.
â(Y/n) (l/n) dance with me, we donât need any music, just you and me. Come on.â Tears rolled down your faces as he recited the words you had so many years ago.
And as if on que your little world opened up as you begun to hear the tune of the festival music. He carried you closer to the music, but just far enough away where you both could stay in your own world.
He set you down, placing your feet on top of his as you both swayed with the music. You stayed like this, dancing, lips parted for a millisecond only to connect again. This tender moment you shared will not easily if not ever be forgotten.
Yaaay all done! Repost, like, send some love if you enjoyed! We need more Armin content!!!
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You're My Midnight Moon:
Part 2- could we be or is it gone
Word count:
summary: Scouts claim victory over the Titans! Finally after so long they can return home. But after how she left, will (y/n) and Armin even be able to reunite?
-ENJOY LOVES!-
He almost took every bit of oxygen out of your body. The familiar figure you had memorized so long ago, one you thought you would never see again, was sanding in the distance. He hadn't yet noticed you, but you sure as hell noticed him.
He was home.
All you wanted to do was rush into his arms, pepper his face with kisses, inhale the scent of him. One that you had spent sleepless nights trying to remember, regretting that you had forgotten. So much had change since you had left the scouts. You and Armin were not the same anymore. The cane you held in your hand and the scars over your body made that clear. Armin obviously didnât leave with you so, the love sick teens you were before were not the traumatized adults you were today. You had let your love go. Even before you left.
It was rainy that day, the aura of the dark soaked earth would soon match the events to come. The overwhelming amount of titans in the wooded area was too much for our small squad to take. It was a simple recon mission. That's all it was supposed to be.
You, Armin, Sander, and Ellie were a part of a volunteer recon squad that was to assess the amount of Titans were in the area as well as see if there were any humans near by. As you all explored deeper into the world these reconnaissance missions became normal. Usually a squad was easily able to get in an out of an area easily because of the low numbers of Titans that far from the walls.
You had been friends with Sander and Ellie since they transitioned to the scouts from the garrison a few years back. It felt like while Armin had Eren and Mikasa, you had Sanders and Ellie. They both grew up in the same district as you the three of you had become quick friends. While Sanders hadnât wanted to much to do with girl talk of Armin, Ellie was all ears. You had spent many nights up late talking of your crushes, it helped us to cope. Ellie had a way of joking or saying the exact right thing that would take your mind off of anything that bothered you. And Sander, who have been a bit older than the rest of your group always put your mind at ease with his advice and cool headedness he was like a big brother to you. You all decided to go on the ricin mission together since you all worked very well together.
But something went so very wrong.
It started with two abnormals in the trees. You stayed high and counted the slow walking Titans that wandered through the forest. You had counted five when Ellie and Armin, who were a bit ahead of you and Sander, shot up a red flair to signal an abnormal. Both of you quickly drew your swords to meet Ellie and Armin. As you drew closer you looked to see both their were swords drawn, they looked down at the titan that was jumping considerably high down bellow.
Armin said something to Ellie and had to swung to a higher branch.
That was when a 9 meter titan lunged from the top of the tree straight for her. You all screamed to her, but it had been too late. The jaws of the titan snapped shut around her and it continued its decent to the ground. But as it zoomed passed, Ellieâs screams of pure anguish could still be heard, trapped inside the abnormalâs mouth. They stopped after the sound of her body being crushed under the Titanâs teeth echoed through the forest.
You all stood there in complete shock. Your minds were unable to process what just happened before your eyes. Sander was the first to shake off the initial shock.
âYou fucking bastard!â He screamed after it, hot tears fell from his face. âIâm going to fucking rip you to shreds you miserable cunt!â He swung down, vengeance was the only thing on his mind, he had set his sights on the cursed titan.
You had blacked out for a short second, Armin shook you back. You had come back in just enough time to see Sanderâs body smashed into the tree you and Armin stood on. Blood splattered onto your faces. Blood mixed with tears.
You sunk to your knees, it seemed like your life flashed before your eyes. Or at least your life with Ellie and Sanders. All of that time you had spent together, only for them to be gone right before your eyes.
You couldn't remember much after that, but Armin told you he carried you back to the camp. Apparently Levi had to knock you out because you had almost complete lost it.
But what you do remember is after you woke up, something changed within you. You couldn't shake the constant pain no matter how hard you tried. It had embedded itself into your very soul. And you knew one thing was for certain. You never wanted to feel that kind of pain again. So, you pushed your friends away. Jean, Eren, Connie, Sasha, Mikasa, Yimir, Historia. And most of all you pushed away Armin. Your pain clouded your mind and weakened your body.
Your performance as a soldier declined, which led to your irreversible injury you lived with today. You were caught by a titan, escaped its grasp, but you fell too far from the ground. That and the titan had broken some ribs. You were safe but you were left with a fracture spine too. So, your days with the scouts were over and you left without saying goodbye.
And you regretted that every day.
So, again, as much as you wanted to run into Armin's arms. Congratulate him on saving the world, welcome him home...
You couldn't even physically run.
So you stood there, tears streamed down your face, as you watched from afar. The only thing you could do was gaze deeply at a treasure you could not obtain or touch.
Armin met your gaze, and it felt like the world yet again had color. The spring breeze smelled a little bit fresher, your hear beat a little bit faster. But, everything in your body told you to escape from him. So you turned away and went home. Because as much as his look made you feel alive again; it also felt like being burned alive, shot in the heard, trampled to death. Because if you had wanted to, you could have had him. You could have been his. In fact, you were his. But that was just a distant memory. One you fondly thought of as you walked back into your house.
Part 3 coming soon, I'm thinking its gonna have four chapters or possibly 5. Expect smut soon loves.
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Youâre My Midnight Moon: Part 1
Ok... art work right fucking here. i love this so much please love it too!
Word count: 1,200
You were able to easily and quietly leave your cabin, the sleepy sounds of Sasha snoring trumped any ruckus you could have made. The wooden boards creaked as you went towards the door, only a few cadets murmured or stirred but no one woke. Taking a deep inhale, you opened the door and let the crisp night air into the cozy cabin. Â
 You knew it was fate that the light of the moon shone on the grounds in a beautiful, peaceful,  way. This made it easy for you to navigate your way to the boys camp. And of course, with the moonlight shining so bright, your mission would be easy too. You could smell the faint smell of the dinner fire that had been put out just before it was lights out. Itâs meaty scent still lingered. As you got closer to the boys camp and further from the meal house it felt like it was harder to breath, despite the lack of smoke, because you were just thinking of him.
Butterflies flew in your stomach when you thought about him. But you knew without a doubt he would be standing there waiting for you. But still, you used the quiet walk to the boys side to clear your nerves. Focusing on the sound of night bugs chirping and buzzing instead of your heart rhythmically, pounding in your ears.
Sure enough, there he was...waiting for you.Â
The sight of him made a small gasp come from your mouth. His blonde hair blowing slightly as he turned his head looking for you. He seemed to be glowing, his beauty shining like the full moon and stars in the sky. Bright, sapphire orbs found yours and a warmth spread across your cheeks like a wildfire in a dry grass field.Â
He pointed to the paper in his hand, your letter of confession to him, and walked towards you. Seeing him in his nightclothes made you feel like you were meeting another side of him. Not in a scandalous way, but you cherished seeing him in a different light. A more âcomfortableâ Armin. You could see that he was equally red as he came closer. You met him halfway on the barracks path. The dirt and small rocks poking you beneath your bare feet, but making a crunch sound beneath his night shoes.Â
âH-hey...I got your note.â He simply said, you didnât worry about his reply to it with the prominent smile spread across his face. The smile that sat between his apple colored cheeks. It was the only think you needed but even still he gave you a meek thank you.
You and the rest of the cadets were just about graduated. For almost three years you had pined over Armin, only getting as far as being one of his closest friends. Even still, you envied the closeness Eren and Mikasa had with the blonde. They had a bond that had undoubtedly been forged through going through the hell that was living through Shiganshina. Still, you and Armin were dear friends. Both loved knowledge and having a similar level headedness. He would probably argue against your said calm demeanor. You admit you had a free spirit and  impulsive way about you. (One that Armin hoped this cruel world would never take from you.) Like...
âCome with me.â You quickly grabbed his hand and led him away from the cabins. âI wanna show you something.â
âHey, wait!â He said in hushed surprise. But still he ran with you.Â
Leading him to your destination, you felt a sense of childhood wonder, not knowing when a peaceful, maybe immature moment like this would happen again in the world you lived in.
You led him down a small hillside, the grass was softer and higher and the clouds always seemed to be lesser there. Since it was closer to the trees, fireflies often congratulated there. As soon as you ran through, a few, residing in the tall, green blades rose up to the sky like tiny fires.Â
You stopped to gaze up at the sight, cocking your head to Arlert, his blue eyes wide and mouth slightly agape in a smile. Your heart did flips.Â
âItâs...beautifulâ he said looking from the fireflies to the clear, starry night sky. âYou can see so much from here.â He turned to you âthank you for showing me this.âÂ
Your smile ever grew as he looked into your eyes. You laid down, patting the space next to you. He followed your lead and laid next to you. Nothing needed to be said. You both just looked up, into the sky. With shared thought of wonder.Â
âThis world we live in scary, dangerous, hell...but it can be so beautiful. Isnât that a funny thing.â He said breaking the silence. âSometimes itâs hard to find, but itâs there.â You heard his shuffle and turned your head. He was facing you, cheeks flushed a royal red his face smooshing the grass below him. You could tell he wanted to say something, but he didnât.Â
You got up, he looked dejected. âArmin Arlert, will you dance with me?â You held out your hand to the ground for him.Â
âHuh?â He got up quickly.
âDance with me, we donât need music. Just you and me, come on.â You gave him a confident smile he gave you one too and took your hand.Â
His hands slipped to your waist, they are light, like he was hovering.
âDonât be nervous, itâs just me.â You said, as your hand meets your other behind his hair.Â
You let out a peaceful sigh as you feel his hands did the same around you. Bodies were close, hearts began to beat the same as you sway like the grass in the wind. But there was a stiffness to him. You laid your head on his shoulder and held him as close as you could. His body dropped its tension and he pressed you closer to him.Â
Time seemed to stop as you forgot everything but him. Small steps of your feet on the ground, your bodies moved together. You felt an overwhelming sense of safety in your friendâs-your loveâs-arms and you hoped he felt the same way. It was as if you had created a world of your own, a world where there was only stars shining and a bit of breeze. No Titans, no death, sadness. Only you and him.Â
You lifted your head to meet his eyes. They opened to see into yours and it made you smile to see he was so at peace to close them. One of your hands lifted from his neck to his face. He leaned into it and his eyes flickered to your lips. Noticing, you leaned into his. The connection of your body in an intimate way felt like fire or lightning. It tingled down your whole body. He lifted his right hand to hold your hand to his face. His lips were so soft, so tender. Your eyes closed in unison.
You stayed like this, dancing, lips parted for a millisecond only to connect again. This tender moment you shared will not easily if not ever be forgotten.Â
âI love you.â
Part 2 coming soon with some soft fluffy smut. Top reader and obviously bottom Armin. I usually write more slutty smut, but it really doesnât fit this story. But it will still be good lol. Anyways hope you enjoy!
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Life is being a baby and then having people tell you that you should eat kale and then you die.
Am I drunk...... no of course uh notđ¤Ťđ¤Ť
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Probably gonna loose a lot of followers but there isn't a single ďżźhaikyuu character who I find attractive.
Except Tanaka
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