#cannon divergent

[peachessndreamss]

Filled With Grace

Summery : High Septon Aemond request a private audience with a hight born lady the night before her wedding.

Characters : High Septon! Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Warnings : Dub Con, power imbalance, coercion, heavy religious themes & behaviors, no use of y/n, she/her pronouns, unprotected p in v sex, corruption, loss of virginity, dacryhilia (if you squint), alcohol consumption, cannon divergent

Word count : 8 k

A/N : No one asked for this but it happened, also sorry in advance, sorry for what? sorry for everything. While English is my first language I'm also profoundly dyslexic, I've done my best to minimise spelling and grammar issues but I'm there still are plenty.

When Aemond Targaryen lost his eye he thought the worst of it was the scar but it turned out in the days and weeks after the incident, the cost kept mounting. Finding his father couldn’t look at him had been hard to take and they no longer spent the evenings together reading the histories, studying the great campaigns of ancient kings and speaking high Valeryian. 

The last time his father truly looked at him was the night he sat the boy Aemond down and told him he was going into the service of the Seven. With his injury he could no longer be trusted to defend his brother’s weaker side in battle or in Kingship, and so it had been decided by the small council that he would be handed over to the Septons and be trained in the Faith. He was sent across the city and into the tall towers of Baelor's Great Sept. 

When he wasn’t in training, or studying he would sit by the window and stare back across to the Red Keep, where his family continued to live their lives without him. 

In the early days there was heartbreak, longing and grief, as Aemond spent more time at the Sept the pain turned to anger, his heart hardened and his soul blackened. Still as studious as ever he studied hard, learnt the words and the rituals and felt nothing. 

At the age of 20 he moved back across the city, back into the Red Keep as the self-styled High Septon of the Red Keep. Despite his outward devotion to the Faith he opted to keep the name his family had given him, he believed his injury and his family’s reaction had stolen enough from him but they would not take his name.  

In the 7 years that followed his return Aemond had manoeuvred himself from returning outcast to centre of all courtly life. His mother, who ruled in his sickly fathers place, relied on him constantly, looking to him for guidance in both spiritual and worldly matters and while he didn’t sit on the Small Council nothing happened in the room that he wasn’t already aware of.

He was the beating heart and soul of the Red Keep, the spiritual leader who blessed and condemned as he saw fit. He quickly learned his religious titles protected him from suspicion, so when a body turned up in the Red Keep with a broken neck or floating in the bay he was above reproach, regardless of any known animosities or feuds. He learnt being irreproachable had many benefits and he began to explore the possibilities now open to him. 

Aemond was 23 years old the first time he'd had a high born maiden come to him before her wedding night, the first time had been less about the pleasures of the flesh and more about pushing the boundaries of the Lady who’d come to him as a willing sacrifice. The first time taught him that silence could be bought with loyalty and the promise of absolution, and if those two things weren’t enough, he always had fear. 

Aemond occupied the highest tower of the Red Keep, three floors of round rooms stacked one on top the other. The lowest level was his Sept where the faithful came for his blessings, confession, where his mother lit candles and prayed and where she would ask him to translate the signs and symbols she saw everywhere and claimed were messages from the Gods. 

The second floor were his audience rooms, official rooms where he might entertain visiting Septon’s or Lords who felt themselves in particular need of spiritual guidance. 

The highest level was Aemond’s personal chambers, kept in semi-darkness at all times, the stone walls were dressed in rich tapestries and the large bed hung with blood red curtains. This was his innermost sanctum, the space that bore witness to Aemond’s true self and was the place he brought the high born Lady’s before their wedding day. 

Tonight the room was set for such an event. The fire was burning in the hearth but all other lights had been extinguished. Goblets of deep red wine were sitting on the table, as well as a plate of sweets and cakes, in case she had a sweet tooth. Aemond knew the Lady who'd be visiting tonight, she'd been fostered at the Red Keep since her 12th name day and had grown up under the watchful eye of queen Alicent. Tomorrow she would marry Lord Tullly and the day after she would leave the Red Keep forever to take up her new role as lady of Riverrun, but tonight she belonged to him. 

The knock on her chamber door was quiet but unmistakable, it helped that the lady had been waiting for it. Sitting at her dressing table, her back ramrod straight while trying to make sense of her flickering reflection in the warped surface of the mirror. Tomorrow was her wedding day, but tonight she had an audience with High Septon Aemond.

When she had first come to the Red Keep she had been under the protection of Queen Alicent, who she had followed around like a lost lamb until she was 15 and had been passed into the service of her daughter,  Helaena, who she had served as a handmaiden while she waited for her father to broker a good enough marriage deal. 

The deal had now been struck, the payments made and contracts for lands, livestock and men signed and sealed. All that was left was the wedding and due to her close status to the royal family, no expense was spared, her wedding gown had been trimmed with silver and gold threads and beaded with thousands of tiny river pearls. She had wept the first time she’d seen it from the sheer beauty of the garment and after that moment she had willed every day to pass faster so she could wear it.

The High Septon of the Red Keep called all high born brides to his tower the night before their weddings, and while the reason was never overtly discussed, the older ladies of the Red Keep would share knowing looks and speak in innuendo around the younger ladies, lording their superior knowledge and understanding over the young and naive. 

But she had found by listening carefully both to the older women of the court and the giggling gossip of the serving women she’d come to the conclusion that she would be expected to give a private confession to the High Septon. Confession was usually a fairly private matter, with all people of all status expected to unburden themselves to their Septons but without further clarity she was left wondering what made these pre-wedding confessions something so hushed up and rarely talked of. 

“Enter” she called softly, turning from her reflection toward the door. 

A small serving girl stepped into the room, dressed in the same drab dress as all the other serving women and her hair covered with a square of the same fabric, she looked as indistinct as any other of the small folk serving in the Red Keep. 

“High Septon Aemond ‘as asked to see you, milady,” the serving girl said softly, her eyes cast downward as she spoke, “I'm t’take you to ‘im,”. 

The lady nodded and stood from the stool at her dressing table, she had known the summons were coming and so she’d not undressed from that night's celebration dinner. She was still wearing a deep blue silk gown, edged with silver threads and her hair was still twisted in its elaborate crown braid that had taken over an hour to arrange. 

While the dress and the hair were elaborate, they were still modest enough for the act of contrition she assumed she was going too. 

The serving girl stepped back and turned, moving silently down the corridor and the lady followed, wishing her own steps were as silent as they moved through the dark building, even in her silk slippers she could hear her footsteps and the swish of the fabric of her dress. 

Despite living in the red keep for almost 10 years she could count on one hand the amount of times she'd been in the same room as Aemond Targaryen, he didn't waste his time on high born ladies under normal circumstances. The only women he ever seemed to speak with were his mother and his sister, she couldn’t be sure she’s ever even met his gaze, let alone have spoken with him.

At the foot of the high tower the serving girl opened a heavy door and led them up a tightly twisting set of stairs. They passed two doors on the twisting staircase before they reached the top and the final door. The serving girl knocked twice before melting back into the darkness of the stairwell. 

A voice from within bid her enter and with trembling hands she pushed open the door and stepped over the threshold. 

The room was so dark it took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust, still barely able to make out the shapes in the darkness but a rustle of fabric and a small movement drew her eye and from the blackness he appeared. 

He didn’t wear Septon’s robes, instead he dressed every inch the royal son he was, in tight black trousers and a black high collared tunic, he was covered from neck to toe in tight black fabric that looked as close to his body as his own skin. His silver hair was tied back from his face and he wore a patch over his ruined eye. His good eye fixed on her, the indigo of it lost in the darkness so that it appeared to be a blackhole instead. 

“My Lady,” he greeted, bowing deeply before straightening up and fixing his gaze on her face. 

“Your Royal Highness,” she replied, dipping her knees in a curtsey, averting her eyes from his face, “I am your servant,” she added. 

He moved toward her, his steps slow and deliberate, immediately the image of a stalking predator came to mind and her heartbeat quickened. 

“Will you sit?” he asked, indicating the two chairs set close to the fire, a low table between them holding two filled wine goblets and a plate of small fruit tarts, the exact same that would be served at her wedding banquet tomorrow. 

“If it pleases,” she replied, moving toward the chairs and stepping into the circle of flickering light cast by the fire. 

“It does,” Aemond replied, taking the seat nearest to where he was standing and furthest from the light. He relaxed deeply into the seat, crossing one ankle over the other knee, one of his long arms stretching away from his body and toward the table, the tips of his fingers caressing the thin stem of the wine glass. 

She followed his lead and sat, keeping her back straight and tall, crossing her feet at the ankles under the full skirts of her dress and letting her legs fall together against the arm of the chair in the way she'd been taught since she was old enough to sit in the company of others. 

“Eat and drink, if you like,” Aemond said softly, despite the softness in his tone the invitation felt dangerous. 

But she had been raised in the Queen’s household and had impeccable manners, she offered him a small smile and thanked him before lifting the goblet to her lips and taking a small sip. The wine was rich and strong, the scent of it alone causing her head to spin. 

Aemond never took his eye from her, taking in the details of this high lady who he planned to bring so low. He noted the gloss on her lips from the wine, the rapid rise and fall of her chest as she fought to master her heartbeat and the wide eyed look of fear on her pretty face which went straight between his thighs and caused his cock to strain against his trousers. 

“Do you know why you’re here my Lady?” Aemond asked after she’d shakily returned the wine glass to the table.

“For confession?” she replied, her eyes flicking toward his face for a second before looking away again after meeting his burning gaze. 

“To confess,” Aemond agreed, “and to meet with god,” he added softly, running his long fingers up the stem of the wine glass and cupping the curve of the bowl before bringing it to his mouth and taking a drink.

Aemond took a slow drink, running the tip of his tongue over his bottom lip before taking a shallow breath and placing the goblet back down on the table. The silence in the room was heavy, it deafened and roared at the same time and she was acutely aware of the sounds of her breathing and pounding heart.

“My Lady, the hour is late,” Aemond spoke, “why are you still dressed for banqueting?” 

She glanced down at herself, the silver beads and stitching of the deep blue dress caught in the flickering fire light and she could feel every place the fabric touched her body. 

“I didn’t want to be in a state of undress when you called for me, my Prince,” she replied. 

Aemond chuckled softly, “So you knew you’d be summoned to me tonight?” he mused, “and how did you know?”. 

In that moment she could have bitten her own tongue off to avoid saying anything further, how could she tell the truth without causing trouble for herself and the other ladies in waiting, gossip was considered below them, despite the fact that it made up a good majority of their days. 

“It’s known,” she started before her voice stalled, she squirmed in her seat under the heat of his gaze, “that’s to say, some of the other ladies who’ve been married have mentioned they had a private audience with you,”.

Aemond nodded, while he outwardly gave no sign, he was privately elated, the more that people whispered and told stories of him the more they would fear him and the more power he would have over them. He would have to try and learn the details of the gossip and whispers, and if necessary change the narrative. 

“I trust that what passes between us tonight will stay between us?” he asked, taking another drink, enjoying the rich and heady taste. 

“Of course my Prince,” she agreed readily and he nodded. 

A silence fell between them again, if she strained her ears she could just hear the sounds of the city, as distant as a dream from the covered windows. She dragged her attention back to the man in the room and she looked at him from under her lashes, not wanting to get caught staring. The flickering firelight cast his features in strong relief, his jaw and cheekbones looked like twin blades edging his face. 

“In the eyes of the Gods,” Aemond started, his indigo eye fixed on the fire, “we’re born naked, we live naked and we die naked. They see and hear all of our sins, even the sins we never speak of, or act on, they know them and they judge us for them. We are never beyond the sight of the Gods,”. 

“Of course, High Septon Aemond,” she replied, choosing to use his religious title as she felt the subtle change in him as he went from prince entertaining a guest to High Septon preparing for holy work. 

“And while they sit in judgement of us, I have the power to forgive sins, to wipe clean the slate of any man or woman who is willing to ask for forgiveness,”. 

Aemond turned his eye to her, catching her watching him, his gaze burning. 

“My Lady,” Aemond turned his face from the fire toward her, “are you willing to ask for forgiveness tonight? To confess your sins and be cleansed?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. 

“I will,”.

He took a deep breath and nodded, a small smile twitching at the corner of his lips. 

“Then stand, my Lady, and you will confess as the God’s see you,” he paused for a tense second, “naked,”. 

A chill ran up her spine despite the heat of the fire. Although she had expected to be called to him she had not known what he would want when she was there, she’d had no idea he’d expect her to undress, and if he expected that what else might he expect? 

“My Prince, this gown is difficult to remove,” she spoke quickly, her heart thumping in her chest, “I’m sure the God’s will understand if I remain clothed,”. 

“Stand,” Aemond commanded, and as if touched by a white hot poker she jumped from the seat and stood like marble, her eyes fixed on the prince. 

“Gowns can be removed, repaired if necessary,” he said as he stood and stalked toward her, pulling a small blade from a concealed pocket at his hip, “your confession will not be complete unless you are as you were born,”. 

He moved toward her and with a single strong shove he pushed the heavy chair she’d been sitting in out of the way and brought himself behind her. His breath was warm on the back of her neck, his left hand caressed her left arm. 

“Please, my Prince,” she whispered as she sensed the movement of the right hand which held the blade. 

He took a steadying breath before sliding the blade beneath the silk ribbon that held the back of the dress closed, with only a little pressure the blade slipped through each twist of silver silk and the dress began to open, exposing the bright white shift underneath. She had made a small sound of protest but had gone silent. While the blade never touched the thin fabric of her shift she could feel the coolness of the metal and imagine the sharpness of the blade. 

The prince dropped the blade and used both his hands to pull the gown wider and push it off her shoulders, the weight of the skirt and the beading of the bodice dragged it down, slipping down her arms and off her hands. It landed in a pool of deep, glittering blue around her calves. 

“Better,” Aemond breathed, stepping back a little and admiring her trembling body. 

“If it pleases you,” she had to fight to keep her voice calm, tears pricked at her eyes and burned in the back of her throat. 

Perhaps this would be as far as he took it, perhaps this was bear enough for him. Perhaps she could confess in her underclothes and be gone, but she only believed this for a second as she felt him take two strong handfuls of the neck of her shift and rip them viciously apart. 

The soft fabric gave easily and ripped clearly down the middle, exposing her back and buttocks to him, again he gave the garment a soft shove over her shoulders and watched as it fell around her legs, landing on top of her gown like a blanket of snow. 

“Oh it pleases me a great deal,” he said, stepping around her, caressing her arm as he came to stand in front of her, letting his eye travel up and down her body.

He took hold of her hand and lifted it before giving her a gentle tug, unable to disobey, she stepped forward out of the mess of fabric and further into the golden light of the fire. The only thing she wore now were the soft silk slippers. 

Aemond studied her, the curve of her hips and buttocks, the softness of her stomach, the swell of her breasts that were topped with nipples several shades darker than her skin. As he watched gooseflesh crawled across her body, tightening her nipples into tight little points that he longed to reach out and pinch. SHe kept her face turned down and Aemond was transfixed by the curve of her cheek and the spiky shadows of her eyelashes. 

She felt as if his gaze was burning and freezing her at the same time, every part of her body was exposed to him and he looked at her without shame. No man had ever seen her in such a state. She had been taught her nakedness was for her husband and for him alone but now she was being looked on by her High Septon, her prince, and his eyes were devouring her body, claiming something that shouldn’t belong to him. 

“You are the Maiden incarnate,” he whispered as he dropped her hand and brought his fingertips to her chin. Lifting her head so he could look at her face. Though she still fought them she couldn’t help the tears that gathered in the corners of her eyes or the tremble in her bottom lip. 

“You might look like Her,” he started, his eye flicking to a small image of the Maiden he kept by the fire before returning his gaze to her, “but you are only human and therefore a sinner,” Aemond added with a sigh, as if disappointed to remember the woman before him was human and not divine, “so kneel,”. 

“My Prince?” she questioned, the humiliation was already beyond what she thought she could survive but apparently he had more in his heart. 

“Confession is given on your knees,” he explained calmly, “and so you must kneel,” he moved his hand from her chin to her shoulder, where he applied gentle pressure. 

She allowed her knees to bend and buckle beneath her, dropping onto the thick carpet. Aemond felt his cock throb as her breasts bounced with the impact, he fought the intense and dark urge to force his cock into her mouth, instead he took a deep breath and placed his hand on the top of her head. 

“Under the watchful eye of the seven, I hear your confession,”. 

Aemond spoke the words he learned as a boy during his time in the High Sept. Confession had already fascinated him as a child and he’d hardly dared believe that people would willingly tell him the darkest secrets of their hearts. 

“Under the watchful eye of the Seven, I give my confession,” she choked out, words she’d learnt as a small child and said hundreds of times in her life before now, but never like this. 

“I, I confess to having cruel thoughts about others,” her voice cracked as she repeated another line she’s said a hundred times before to Septon after Septon. Aemond, with his eye closed and his hand still resting on the top of her head nodded. 

“Go on,”. 

“And I’ve told lies,” 

“And, and, and,” she stumbled over her words, “I confess to having impure thoughts about men at court,”. 

Aemond felt a throb between his thighs, this is what he’d been hoping for. 

“What thoughts my lady?”. 

“Thoughts of what it would be like to couple with them,”. 

Aemond nodded benevolently and opened his eye, his gaze soft and loving as he watched the woman on her knees. 

“That’s to be expected, as a bride in waiting,”. 

“This is my confession,” she whispered. 

The tears in her eyes blurred her vision but she nodded, her resolve strengthened now she’d done what he’d asked. Aemond nodded again and closed his eye, turning his face upward and addressing the air above their heads. 

“The watchful eye of the Seven have heard your confession and I, High Septon Aemond Targaryen of the Red Keep, forgive your sins,”. 

She gave out a shuddering breath as a tear slowly tracked down her cheek. She had survived, she had done as she was told and she was forgiven her sins. 

His hand moved from the top of her head and he offered it to her, she took it and allowed him to support her back to her feet. She couldn't look at his face but instead her eyes focused on the floor at his feet. Again he moved his fingertips to her chin and lifted her face. 

“You did very well my Lady,” he said softly as he stroked his finger down the curve of her cheek. Despite the warmth from the fire his fingers were like ice on her skin, “and now, you will take God inside you,”. 

Her brows furrowed in confusion as a chill ran down her spine. Surely he couldn’t be talking about bedding her? Looking at her naked body was one thing but to give her maidenhead to him the night before her wedding was unthinkable but before she could voice any resistance he gently took her hand and led her toward the bed. 

She moved as he directed her, unwilling but unable to resist him. The bed loomed, dark and foreboding in the centre of the room, she’d been able to ignore it up until now. As they moved closer she noticed the hangings and the coverings were a deep blood red, edged with black. 

Aemond brought them to the foot of the bed, placing her so the back of her knees knocked against the bedframe and the plush bed sheets brushed against the bare backs of her thighs. 

Aemond stroked her cheek again before brushing the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. 

“You've got nothing to be scared of my Lady, don't you want to know the Gods in the most intimate way possible?”. 

“Please my Lord,” she whispered, “l mean, I- I mean, my Prince,Your Highness, please,” she stumbled over her words, them coming out in a confused rush. 

“Don't worry about titles now, Maiden,” he whispered, leaning his face close to her, letting his lips brush against her cheek, “tonight you can call me God,”.

She turned her head to look in his face, catching sight of one beautiful indigo eye before his lips crashed into hers in a bruising kiss. One of Aemond’s hands slipped up her back and held her at the base of her skull as the other wrapped around her naked waist, his cold hand resting on the small of her back. He pulled her tighter to his body, feeling the hard press of her soft skin through the leather and linen of his clothes. 

Aemond licked his tongue along the line of her lips, desperate to taste her mouth, would the richness of the wine still linger on her tongue or would he be able to taste her fear? He broke away from her kiss and gazed down at her, noticing the tears in her pretty eyes and the wobble of her soft bottom lip. 

“Give yourself to me,” he whispered, “submit to me, and be filled with grace,”. 

She whimpered softly, a single tear slipping down her cheek. She felt nothing but fear, a clawing, ripping terror that started in her guts and filled every inch of her, she felt as if she opened her mouth to speak pitch black tar would come bubbling out of her throat.

There was immediate fear, what Aemond could do to her if she didn't give him what he wanted and there was the future fear, of the following night and her new husband finding her no longer the maiden he'd been promised. 

Despite the fear, Aemond's words awakened something else inside her, a pinprick of excitement in the doom, a flickering flame of need in the darkness of terror. Aemond’s grip on the back of her head tightened, her eyes focused on his face again, she found him beautiful and terrible. 

“Submit,” he said again softly before touching a kiss to her still closed mouth, “submit,” he breathed again, the sound barely audible above the thumping of the blood in her ears.

The quiet word sounded like a prayer, even though he held all the power in the few seconds after the soft plea had fallen from his lips she felt completely in control, she could deny him and walk away without further incident but she didn’t want to. She wanted to submit, she needed to give herself to him, her body and soul demanded it of her. 

“I submit, my Prince,” she replied, her voice little more than a hoarse whisper. 

Aemond brought his mouth back to hers and kissed her again, there was less aggression now and when he tightened his hold on her body there was a thrill of pleasure, like a seam of gold in the bedrock of her terror. 

He ran his tongue along her lips again and this time she parted her mouth and felt his tongue slip against hers instantly. Without thought she felt herself grip at the arm he had wrapped around her body, her fingers gripping vivaciously at the sleeve of his coat, feeling the strong and lean arm under the fabric.

As her fingers gripped him Aemond groaned into her mouth, feeling his cock throbbing against the lacing of his breeches, the press of her soft body was no longer enough, he needed to take her. 

He broke away from her mouth, his gaze focusing on her heaving breasts and the saliva coating her lips. His own heart was pounding and he felt like the room was spinning around him and she was the only steady point. 

“Lie down,” he instructed. 

She obeyed without hesitation, needing to do nothing but let herself drop down onto the mattress and lay her head back on the plush coverlet. Aemond’s gaze moved up and down her body, from the silk slippers still covering her feet, up her shapely legs to their apex where her sex was hidden by a thatch of curly hair. Further up her stomach to her breasts and their aching hard nipples, her throat and the curve of her jaw all the way to the top of her head where the crown of hair was coming loose. 

Aemond moved directly between her legs, he bent and wrapped his hands behind her knees, yanking her forward so her bottom rested just at the edge of the bed. He kept her knees lifted and pushed her thighs high and further apart. Splitting open the lips of her cunt, exposing the glistening folds of her womanhood. 

She was totally transfixed by him, and from her position below him light cast his features in even sharper relief. It was easy to believe that he was a God, surely no mere mortal could look like him. 

As he stared between her legs he made a groaning sound from deep in his chest. 

“Hold your legs, Maiden,” he said softly. 

She replaced his hands with her own, keeping her sex exposed to him. There was an ache between her legs now that seemed to start somewhere deep within her lower belly and her body was acting and reacting in ways she'd never experienced before. Aemond's hands went to the laces at the front of his breeches, working quickly to loosen them and allow him to free his cock. 

With a soft moan he pulled the hard muscle free, squeezing it at the root and watching as a bead of pearly white fluid appeared at the tip. 

He stepped forward, pressing the length of his shaft between the soaked lips of her cunt, smearing himself in her arousal. She gasped at the contact, having never felt anything between her legs apart from her own fingers before this moment. 

His cock was hot, smooth and hard as he moved it between her lips and she felt her whole body awaken at the feeling of the blunt head of his cock touching the hardened pearl between her legs. 

Aemond watched with fascination as she reacted to his ministrations on her body. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell into a pretty O shape, Aemond felt his cock pulse with desire and he longed to see how many more reactions he could draw out of her untouched body. 

The two of them were now soaked in her arousal, the hair between her legs glistening with wetness in the flickering fire light.Aemond took a steadying breath as he angled his cock at her tight entrance. 

“Be filled with grace,” his voice was like a prayer as he finally pressed forward and pushed inside her. 

She gasped at the sudden feeling of stretching and pressure, it was nothing like she'd felt before and in a flash the arousal seemed to disappear and the fear was back, gripping her like a vice and making it hard to breathe. 

“Don't fight,” Aemond hissed, “submit,”. 

She took a steadying breath, her eyes fixed on his face as he stared between their body’s, at the place the two of them were becoming one. After the initial pain and resistance she found her body wanting to welcome him, she found her cunt pulling at him hungrily and willingly changing to accept him inside her. 

Once Aemond was resting deeply inside her he gave a shuddering breath. He couldn't hear anything but the pounding of blood in his ears and he could see nothing but the place where their bodies were joined. 

“We are one, Maiden,” he said softly, looking up at her face and finding her watching him, a single tear escaping her eyes as he pushed another inch forward, finding her body yielding and vice-like in its grip. 

“Don't weep,” he said, reaching forward and wiping the tear away from her eyes, “you are one with the Gods now,”.

Aemond gathered the tear on his thumb and brought the drop of liquid to his mouth, sucking it off the tip of his thumb. He brought his wet thumb down between their bodies and brushed it against the swollen pearl that peeked out from between her soaked lips. He could feel the tight channel of her cunt squeezing around him at the contact and a small moan slipped between her soft lips. 

Slowly he began to move his hips in a slow, grinding motion. He wanted to stay as deeply rooted within her body as he could but he desperately wanted to bring her pleasure. To share with her the religious experience he was chasing. He ground his hips forward and used his thumb to swipe and stroke at her pearl.

Her whole body was on fire, every part of her mind, her body and her soul was suddenly awakened with pleasure. She moaned and immediately felt a deep shame at the sound. Aemond could sense the sudden shift in her and he looked at her face. 

“Don't hide your sounds, my Maiden, they are prayers and I want to hear them,”. 

After that, any sense of shame melted away, how could there be shame between them now? He had heard her confession and now he shared her body. There was no longer space for shame. The pleasure began to build and a deep groan moved through her body and filled the room as she gave into the pleasure. 

Aemond changed from grinding to short, sharp thrusts, pistoning his hips and moving his cock in and out, the movements made easy by the arousal that slicked between their legs, spreading over her thighs. Her eyes widened and the grip behind her knees tightened as the pleasure inside her reached a fever pitch. She moaned loudly, thrashing her head against the bed, her eyes closing tightly. 

“Submit to it, Maiden,” Aemond moaned as he felt her body tightening around him, “submit and feel God,”. 

With his words she gave her body and mind over to the sensations, the knot that tightened within her belly and the tingling in her fingers and toes, every inch of her skin felt tight and hot and then suddenly, like a dam breaking, there was nothing but bliss. 

The muscles of her stomach  and thighs clenching, the tightening being echoed by the gripping tightness of her cunt around Aemond’s cock. Her blood felt like it was on fire as it raced around her body, burning her alive. Time seemed to stop and her body no longer felt physical, she had passed beyond physical and was now made of stars. 

Aemond followed her into bliss with a deep groan and a final deep and shuddering thrust, pressing himself as deep inside her as possible before spilling his seed. 

Panting and trembling, Aemond leaned forward, bringing his body over hers for the first time and placed a soft kiss on her lips. Still dazed she looked at him, through the haze of pleasure he could have been mistaken for an angel, she expected him to kiss her again but instead he straightened up and withdrew from her body. Tucking his wet, soft cock back into his breeches before roughly tightening the laces. 

Aemond went to the door of his chambers and opened them, letting the serving girl who brought her here inside. 

“Take her back to her room, repair her dress and stay with her all night,” he spoke quickly and firmly, the only outward sign of his recent activities was the slightly pink flush to his cheeks and the sweat gathered at his hairline. 

“In the morning, make sure you stay with her,” he added, glancing back at the woman still naked on his bed, her chest still heaving and her eyes still unfocused. 

“I must go to my Sept,” he finished before moving out of the room and down the winding staircase. 

The serving girl brought a large, soft blanket to the bed and encouraged the lady to sit up, her hair was a mess, half fallen out of its elaborate style. She wrapped the blanket around the lady and drew it closed over her chest. 

“‘ere milady,' she said softly, “so you don’ get cold,”. 

The serving girl gathered up the ruined dress and the slip before returning to the bed and helping her to her feet. The lady was unsteady on her feet and was shocked back to reality by the pain between her legs. 

She brought one hand to her mouth in horror, holding the blanket tightly around her body. 

“What have I done?” She whispered, glancing back at the bed. 

“Come on my lady,” the serving girl said softly, “let's get you back to your rooms,”. 

She followed the serving girl out of the room and down the winding staircase. The stone was icy cold on her silk slippered feet and the chill moved up her legs, quickly turning her whole body to ice. At the bottom of the final turn she stopped outside the door to Aemonds Sept, through the door the sound of his prayers were just audible. She placed her hand on the door, going to push it open but the serving girl placed her hand over the lady's. 

“We must go,” she urged. 

The serving girl led her back to her rooms, managing to avoid any other living being in the red keep. Back in the safety of her rooms she helped the lady into her bed, her naked body slipping between the soft sheets. 

“Sleep, milady,” the serving girl said, “I'll be ‘ere in the morning to help you get ready,”. She closed her eyes and without another thought she slipped into a dreamless sleep.

Aemond knelt at his altar all night, the sun was creeping over the city when he finally opened his eye and unclasped his hands. A great deal of his religious devotion was for show, he felt almost nothing for the faith and used it only to manipulate those around him to his will. But after a night with a highborn maiden he often felt the need to unburden his soul. 

He would not attend the wedding of his Maiden and Lord Tully, the ceremony would take place at Baelor's sept and the feast in the great hall. He wouldn't be expected to attend and he assumed his mother would pay him a visit after the festivities to fill him in on his brother's behaviour. He stood slowly from his altar to the Maiden, the candle he'd lit when he'd entered the night before was gutting and spitting as it gave its final flickers before going out, the wick drowning in a pool of its own wax.

Somewhere below the walls of the Red Keep a bell began to toll, waking the city and signalling the start of a new day. Aemond left his Sept, closing the door tightly behind him, he took the winding stairs back to his private rooms. The wine glasses and the plate of sweets were still on the table and the coverlet on the bed was rucked up from his Maidens thrashing and keening. 

He could have knelt at the foot of the bed and placed his face where her arousal had soaked the fabric, he could smell the intimate musk of her body and let him become lost in memories. 

He made to move toward the bed but there was a barely audible knock on the door, Aemond turned toward the door instead and called the visitor in. 

His serving girl stepped into the room and closed the door silently behind herself. She was the only person in the Red Keep Aemond trusted without question. 

“Milady slept fitfully, asked for you when she woke and has now been taken by ‘er mother and sisters to be washed and dressed,” she reported, her eyes focused on her feet. 

“Thank you,” he replied, a cold distance in his voice. 

“If you ‘ave no further need of me, Lord, I’ll be gone,'. 

Aemond nodded and the girl left without another word or sound. Aemond took to his seat beside the fire, he drew a glass of red wine from the decanter on the table and drank deeply, scowling at the flames as they danced in the grate. 

Some hours later the bell in the Great Sept rang out, a loud booming sound that travelled through the hot air across the city and out into the bay beyond. Underneath the tolling bell the bride stood as if made of stone, the only indication she was flesh and blood were the tears streaming down her cheeks. 

The bride groom kept glancing at her nervously, was she weeping with joy? Unlikely he reasoned, was it sadness to be leaving the home she's known most of her life? Or was it fear of the night to come? He'd heard from his older, married brothers that virgin's could be fearful and unwilling on their wedding nights; he hoped he'd give a good showing of himself for her first experience of the marriage bed. After all, he'd never had any complaints before. 

After the sun had set on the heaving city and the wedding feasting and drinking were done the newly weds were finally alone in their bridal chamber. The room was awash with light from torches and a blazing fire, the bed was made up in Tully colours and food and drink set out on a small table by the open window. She waited at the end of the bed for him, sitting with her hands clasped in her lap, her eyes turned down and the skin of her face tight and sore from the tears she’d been unable to stem. 

Her new husband drank deeply from a wine goblet by the window, he was dressed in only his long white linen shirt and black leather riding boots, he drained his goblet and moved toward the bed. He’d decided he needed some extra liquid courage before taking his new wife to bed, he didn’t think he could cope with all the tears without something to help him forget the experience. 

“Lie back, wife,” he said, his voice thick with drink, “we’ll soon  have this done with,”. 

Across the Red Keep Aemond sat alone in his chambers, he’d removed the patch from his ruined eye and the sapphire caught the flickering light from the fire, he stared at the flames as they twisted and licked around one another. Separate tongues of flame merging into a single burning light before breaking apart again and reaching desperately for cool air being drawn down the chimney.

The door to his room opened without warning, he turned his eye toward the darkened doorway and watched his mother enter. Her cheeks were flushed red with the wine she’d taken at the feast and her usually impeccable hair was looking dishevelled from dancing. 

“Nice wedding?” Aemond asked as she sat heavily in the chair beside him and sighed deeply. 

“Lovely,” Alicent mused with a smile, “the bride wouldn’t stop crying but she always was a miserable little thing,”. 

Alicent looked over at her son, her smile was indulgent as she studied his profile. 

“You should have been there,” she said softly. 

Aemond gave a small shake of his head. 

“It wouldn’t be appropriate,”. 

“What would be inappropriate about you attending the wedding of members of the court?” Alicent argued. 

Aemond, not in the mood to argue with his mother remained silent and returned his attention to the flames, tomorrow he would hold a service of devotion for his family and the small council and afterward he might entertain the master of coin to see what he could learn about the plans to deal with the civil unrest that was coming from Dorne. 

“Anyway, I thought you’d like to know that Lord Beesbury has announced his plans to wed the Moreland girl before her next name day,”. 

“The Moreland girl?” Aemond asked, turning his attention back to his mother.

“Another one of your sister's handmaids, the one with the golden hair and the crooked smile, she’s sweet enough but I feel for her marrying an old dog like Beesbury,” Alicent replied before lapsing into silence. The memory of her own marriage announcement brought sharply to the forefront of her mind. 

Aemond’s fingers twitched against his knee, he knew the girl by sight and seemed to remember that despite the crookedness of her smile she showed it off willingly and often. He could help but wonder if she’d smile for him as he took her apart piece by piece. 

“Before her next name day, you said?”. 

“Hmm? Yes, about 3 months from now,” Alicent said, her mind now firmly fixed on the past. 

Aemond nodded his head and drummed his fingers faster on his knee, not long to wait. 

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen x y/n #aemond targaryen smut #aemond x you #aemond x reader #aemond x y/n #aemond imagine #cannon divergent #hotd smut #house of the dragon #hotd fan fiction #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #ewan mitchell #ewan mitchell character #aemond targaryen imagine #high septon ! aemond targaryen

[shu-box-puns]

You wanna be one of them (Tsu’tey x Reader) Act 4

Previous chapter <- Act 4 -> Next chapter

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

Word Count: 9003

Summary: The Battle for The Tree of Souls.

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

You had come from the stars. From a planet entire galaxies away from Pandora, and yet, you’d never felt as at home as you did falling from the sky mid battle. There was no going back now.

Rage had made you fight hard and fierce. Killing RDA soldiers on sight, shooting down scorpions to the song of the na’vi war cries. It was thrilling. A new sense of adventure despite the stakes.

And now the forest slowed your descent as you plummeted through the foliage. Tree branches and vines reached to break your fall as you dropped through the canopy and landed hard on your back, staring up as the airship you’d been attacking went up in flames. The shuttle tilted, its left engine damaged, and rapidly began to lose altitude as it dipped out of view.

Your side smarted as you struggled to breathe, your ikran’s dying cries still ringing in your ears. Phantom pains still trailed their ghostly fingers up your sides, a fraction of the pain your beloved steed had felt when the propellers cut through his abdomen, his wings rapidly getting sucked in as well. You had screamed at the sensation, torn between leaping away from his back, and staying in a flimsy attempt to pull him free.

Your steed, however, had made the choice for you. The din of explosions and screams fell into the background to fall on deaf ears as he snapped his head to the side, roughly tearing your connection. The action threw you, the sudden numbing of the pain made your mind freeze.

It was enough of a distraction to launch you from his back and send you crashing through the treetops, vines snapping at your limbs. It had been a miracle you’d only been winded when you’d landed, rather than breaking every bone in your body.

You had intended to get up when your breath returned to you. Or when your mind stopped spinning. Or maybe even when the phantom pains of your late steed faded from your muscles. Internally, you were eager to rise back to your feet, to join the rest of the ground forces. But you couldn’t.

Gradually, the pure blue of the sky dulled as the eclipse rolled in. The colour bruised across the sky like blood from a fresh wound as the sun dipped lower and lower behind the surface of the moon. The gunfire began to slow, allowing the sounds of the forest to gradually return, until it stopped altogether.

Somehow, the pause did not offer reassurance. In contrast, it brought with it anticipation. Humans were a persistent race afterall, once enough soldiers had regained their strength and regrouped, they would plan for another attack.

Hopefully, you’ll be able to pull yourself from the forest floor before they-

Leaves to your right rustled on a non-existent breeze. Your breath left your lungs in a panicked exhale, your head lifting from the forest floor to fruitlessly peer at whoever was coming.

Surely Eywa did not want you gone so soon. She had coaxed the rest of them away, why let this one stumble upon you?

Whoever it was, they were loud and careless in their footsteps. You heard pained wheezing. The snap of twigs and the rustle of bushes brushing against thighs. Snapping your head in the direction of the sound, you noticed a lone atokirina hovering just inside of the clearing. Your breath caught.

Then a towering figure broke out into the small clearing, stooped as if the weight of the world was pressing down on their shoulders. There was blood. So much blood against a stark blue canvas that you vaguely wondered how they could be alive, let alone wandering around the forest.

The atokirina bobbed smoothly through the air before the person, its glowing complexion easily drawing your gaze back to it as it sailed further into the clearing. The person hurriedly stumbled after it, almost desperate not to be left behind.

Tsu’tey, your mind helpfully supplied as you wordlessly recognised those hard eyes swimming with pain. He stumbled further out of the trees, one hand shakily pressed to his chest obscuring the worst of his injuries from view.

No. Please Eywa, no.

His eyes were hazy, not quite seeing as they swept the clearing with a clumsiness you had never witnessed in the warrior. And then that unfocused gaze fell on your crumbled form. His nostrils flared, body lurching as if to run to you, only for his wounds to keep him slow and lethargic.

You heard the soft utterance of your name, choked and weak. He stumbled closer.

Strength returned to your numb limbs. The loss of your steed momentarily soothed with the balm of instinct as you scrambled to your feet, tail flailing in a vain attempt to help you keep your footing. The knot between your friend’s eyes seemed to loosen at your approach, the strength in turn leaving him as his knees threatened to give out. You reached him before he could hit the ground. Grabbing at his shoulders, your attention flickered from his expression to the bloody mess smeared across his chest and dirtying the ceremonial neck piece adorning his throat.

<“Shit, oh god.”> You hissed, panic clawing its way up your throat as your eyes darted all over him. <“Please no. Fuck. Did you try and catch every bullet on purpose you idiot?”> Numbly, he shook his head, following your guidance as you lowered him to the ground.

Tsu’tey groaned, his breathing heavy, painful, but alive, for now. He was struggling to sit upright now, legs having completely given out with nothing but your firm grip on him to keep him upright.

You needed to get him somewhere safe, and fast. You needed to bandage the wound. You needed to get back to the clan; Mo’at could help.

With as much care as your adrenaline filled hands could muster, you tried to coax his hands away from his chest. The sheer amount of blood coating his hands made you want to gag, but you remained firm. There was just enough light left to recognise the entry wounds of three bullets puncturing his chest, your pulse pounding in your temple as you slowly turned him by the shoulder, wincing at his bit off shout. No exit wounds. That’s fine. That’s good. That gave you more time.

Instinctively, you reached for a shirt that your avatar body did not possess, feeling panic threaten to set in when you realised you only had the loincloth at your waist.

From what little healing you’d witnessed at Hometree, you knew that the Mo’at tended to use a specific plant in place of bandages, favoured because of its absorbency and size. However, such plants didn’t grow this far into the forest, since they tended to favour the riverbeds.

<"Do not panic.”> Tsu’tey rasped breathlessly. Then his eyes went glassy, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. <”The Great Mother is calling to me."> There was acceptance in his gaze as if he had already made his peace with it, looking at you for the final time.

Something ugly squirmed in your chest. The tears evaporated on your waterline to be replaced with a determined scowl.

<"Tell her to fuck off."> You snap back, <"she can't have you yet!">

The rhythmic bobbing of the atokirina caught your attention once more. It had travelled away from you since Tsu’tey had collapsed and was now perched on a shrub, its tiny tendrils clinging to the long, thick leaves, almost identical to the river plants used for wounds. Sending a silent thanks to Eywa for her guidance, you scrambled over to the shrub, softly apologising to the atokirina as it lifted off from the leaves and floated up and out of your way.

Scrambling for the hunting knife strapped across your chest, you methodically cut away three long leaves, your slices smooth and swift, internally praying they were clean and strong enough to hold. Without much of a choice however, it was the best you could do.

Satisfied you had enough, you raced back to Tsu’tey’s side, messily falling to your knees in your haste to wrap his wounds. Carefully, you lifted his head into your lap, your hand slick with sweat as you fumbled for the clasp of the ceremonial necklace. It came away easily from his throat. Next, you took the hand clamped over his chest by the wrist and peeled it from the wound. You winced.

Tsu’tey was barely coherent enough to struggle as you began tightly binding his upper chest, winding the leaves around to his back and twisting the strands over and under his arms for extra stability. Bit by bit, the red disappeared, covered by calming green. You found yourself breathing easier, with the worst of the wounds concealed.

Tsu’tey came back to himself as you tied off the last leaf and reclasped his necklace over the fresh bandages. His arms pushing at you weakly, pupils dilated. <“Hold still.”> You soothed, hoping the familiar voice would calm him.

He bared his teeth in response, but didn’t have the strength to make a swipe at you.

<“Tsu’tey?”> His ear flickered in your direction, unfocused eyes looking through you.

That couldn’t be a good sign. Nor was it safe here. With the humans swarming the forest, it would only be a matter of time before you were discovered. Best to get back to the pocket compound and call for help over the comms.

Assessing the forest with a glance before grabbing him by the arm, you hauled him unsteadily to his feet and pushing your head firmly under his torso. Easily, your knees took his weight, whilst your hands found purchase on the crook of his knee and held securely to his arm. Thank God for the RDA’s mandatory evacuation drills. Settling Tsu’tey more comfortably in the fireman’s carry, you turned to the eclipse and calculated the direction of the stolen basecamp unit, which wasn’t too far from your current position.

The atokirina came to your rescue once more, floating at eye level before taking off at surprising speed back into the forest. You were quick to follow, trusting the sacred seed more than your sense of direction.

The forest floors of Pandora were uneven and treacherous, even more so with a half-unconscious passenger slung across your back and the light rapidly fading. You had to be extra vigilant in dividing your attention between judging where you were going and keeping an ear out for enemies. Luckily, most of the fighting had been distant so far, but the closer you got to the radius of the Tree of Souls, the greater the risk of discovery.

The soft utterance of your name by your ear had you almost tripping.

<“So you decided to wake up then?”> You asked your wounded passenger sarcastically, chancing a side glance to assess his expression. Tsu’tey was still clearly out of it, but there was more clarity in his eyes now.

<“What happened?”>

<“You got shot down.”> You replied, carefully to keep from jostling him too sharply. <“We’re heading back to camp to get you patched up.”>

<“You found me?”> He said it with such disbelief you almost felt offended.

<“Not on purpose.”> You defended, <“it was more like you found me.”>

<“How are you here?”>

<“Same way you got here.”>

<“Are you injured?”> His body jerked as if trying to sit up, throwing you off balance. You barely managed to catch yourself on the trunk of the nearest tree, keeping your shoulders even so as not to throw Tsu’tey to the floor from the movement.

<“I’m fine.”> You reassured him, pressing on through the trees as soon as he settled. <“My ikran was flying low enough that I barely felt it.”>

<“Don’t lie to me.”>

<“At least I’m not the one full of lead.”>

He grumbled inaudible, eyes burning with a familiar fury. Although it should have concerned you, it was reassuring to see him more like himself. Even if it was likely to earn you a cuff to the ear for your efforts.

It was an uphill walk from there, thanks to where Trudy had positioned the compound high in the hillsides surrounding the Tree of Souls. Normally, you could complete the walk in minutes, however, the additional weight and tightness that came with injuries making themselves known was definitely adding time on. Time which you couldn’t afford to lose if you wanted Mo’at to look at that wound within the ‘golden period’ as the medics called it.

Just for now, you would stop the bleeding. Then when the forest was not so treacherous or you found backup, you would take Tsu’tey back to The People. Mo’at would patch him up properly and it would be like he was never injured.

Somewhere in the undergrowth came a distinctly human grunt.

You paused in your uphill trek, ears pricked. Another sound, armoured footsteps. The distinct click of a gun being reloaded. Your face drew into a determined scowl as your tail flicked.

In front of you the atokirina shifted course, silently diverting off of the original path and floating off into the undergrowth at a diagonal angle. Not wanting to be left behind, you were quick to move deeper into the denser parts of the undergrowth, hoping the soft lights would blend with your complexion rather than make you stand out. Your heart was pounding in your ears, instinct warning you about turning your back on a potential threat, whereas logic knew time was not on your side. If Tsu’tey were less wounded, you would have time to turn around and dispatch the enemy soldier.

Your footsteps were silent as you continued on, half bent to make your tall form a less obvious target. The sounds of the footsteps were getting fainter with every step, but you knew the range of the weapons they carried, and had seen the damage they could cause.

Another click had your ears snapping up and your body taking a sharp right. There was bang. The atokirina shivered before shooting up into the trees. You could only watch dumbly as it vanished from sight, the distraction enough to allow another bullet to rocket past your head before disappearing into the undergrowth. Definitely spotted then.

On your own now, you broke out into a run, toes digging into the soft ground as Tsu’tey let out an irritated hiss at the unexpected movements. You held him tighter, making a sharp left and ducking behind the trunk of a wide tree. From there, you pushed off the roots and kept low.

“Who’s out there?” A man’s voice called to the forest. He fired off another shot in the direction you had been, twigs crunching underfoot as he advanced hesitantly.

You kept moving. A rabbit scrambling out of the eyeline of a hungry fox. Instinct insisted that the soldier would be half your size and with a strength inferior to your own. It would be easy to crush his oxygen mask and leave him to suffocate. A simple kick would be enough to break his bones like toothpicks. But logic was not your main concern here.

The compound was in sight. A flash of silver against the greens and glowing blues. You almost felt relieved; almost. Mentally, you prayed someone was near, either Neytiri or Jake’s avatar. Someone who could take Tsu’tey from you, or charge back into the forest and deal with the rogue soldier still yelling demands at your retreating back.

The sight of an AMP suit lumbering around the campsite had your blood running cold, your hurried footsteps faltering in their haste. It didn’t take binoculars to recognise Colonel Quaritch in the driver’s seat. A quick access of your surroundings told you that Neytiri was struggling under the weight of a dead thanator, whilst Jake actively kept Quaritch’s attention off of her.

Behind you, the footsteps were getting closer.

Tsu’tey was a dead weight on your shoulders. The only reassurance he was alive was the soft breathes on the nape of your neck.

Quaritch yelled something inaudible from his suit, Jake crouched before him, trying to appear intimidating. The AMP suit turned towards the compound, one mighty fist raised towards the cracked window.

In one swing, the only barrier keeping the breathable air that your body needed inside the compound was destroyed. Immediately, your vision swam, the link growing fuzzy.

Stumbling in place, you launched out a blurry hand for the nearest tree trunk, desperate to get Tsu’tey down to the ground before you sent both of you tumbling. He gripped at your weakly as your hold loosened, vision blacking in and out as you fought to stay within this body.

Quaritch was laughing. You vaguely saw Jake leaping at the AMP suit’s back, scrambling to draw the Colonel’s attention away from the bodies within the compound. Neytiri still hadn’t managed to free her leg.

Tsu’tey was on the ground when you blacked out for the first time, breath leaving you in a shuddering stutter.

You briefly opened your eyes within the link unit, only to be slammed back into your avatar at the firm press of your eyelids.

When you resurfaced, Tsu’tety had you by the face, bloodied hands cradling your cheeks, calling your name with firm shakes to your face. His eyes were more alert than they’d been the entire time.

There was a yell beyond your field of vision. The sound of an enormous fist slamming down onto metal, and then you were back in your link unit for the final time.

The link snapped with a sharp tug, ripping the warmth of Tsu’tey’s hands from your face.

You were abruptly torn from your avatar and roughly thrown back into your own mind. Your throat was tight as your eyes shot open, signalling the telltale signs of Pandora air seeping into the compound. The lid of your link unit had been ripped from the box, the metal twisted and warped as if a god had reached in with their massive hand and torn it clean off. Not that there was much time to dwell on that fact, since you were quickly running out of breathable air.

Clumsily, you hauled yourself over the side of the unit and landed heavily on the messy floor below. Toxic air rushed into the compound through the smashed window to your right, poisoning the oxygen in the small space. Broken glass littered the wooden floorboards, crunching underfoot as you staggered for the exo packs mounted on the wall.

Quaritch had disappeared from the window, more growling and insults ensuing from outside. You could only assume Neytiri had wrestled herself free.

Blessedly, Jake’s unit was still untouched and sealed tight so you didn’t bother ripping it open to give him an oxygen mask. As long as the seal remained strong he would remain untouched.

On unsteady legs, you darted for the exo packs, unceremoniously snatching the nearest one from the box and shoving it over your face. Numb fingers fumbled with the breathing valve, making your heart pound as it stubbornly refused to turn. Your vision was beginning to swim, whilst your lungs screamed for another inhale. But your training kept you stubborn. Once you took a breath, it would be a panicked series that would finally do you in.

You kept fiddling with the mask. It clicked and the face panel suctioned to your face as a fresh flood of sweet oxygen blessed your lungs. If adrenaline wasn’t still fresh in your blood, you would’ve sagged in relief. But there was no time.

It sounded like Jake and Neytiri were holding up okay, but they weren’t your main concern as of now. Tsu’tey was injured without protection and an armed guard on his tail. That was who you had to focus on right now; the Omatikaya couldn’t afford to lose another chief so soon.

It took no time to find and reload the nearest handgun - thank you Trudy - before you raced out into the world for round two. The airlock was essentially useless now, but despite the blaring alarms, the second door refused to open until the first had closed and the air between was sucked of precious oxygen. With a green light, you slammed out of the compound door, barely sparing the AMP suit and your friends a glance, before you were racing off into the trees.

Finding Tsu’tey wouldn’t be the issue, rather, it would be trying to get him back to the compound. In your human body, you had no chance of dragging him anywhere he wasn’t able to walk, let alone getting anywhere near him. You knew first hand his hatred of Sky People. Maybe he’d passed out long enough for you to check the bandages were still tight.

You found the RDA soldier before you found Tsu’tey. True to the RDA training, he immediately opened fire upon spotting you through the trees, which you gladly returned in kind. No time sparing a life that had only added to your stress levels mere moments ago.

His aim was panicked and sloppy, allowing you plenty of spaces to dodge the wayward bullets and nail him in his dominant arm. He screamed as he went down, his RDA issued weapon falling uselessly from his hands. You sent a flurry of bullets his way for good measure, not bothering to check if he’d been hit anywhere vital. Eywa would decide his fate.

Thankfully, you’d managed to carry Tsu’tey a considerable distance from the original landing spot, so you found him easily enough not far from the compound. He hadn’t crawled far from where you’d put him down, but he’d managed to grab your unconscious avatar body. It was now cradling it to his chest, his arms wrapped possessively around its shoulders and lower back, its limp face smushed into the junction of his neck.

You were careful in your approach, letting your weapon hang behind you on its strap with your arms raised in surrender. Tsu’tey still growled at your loud footsteps, made clumsy by the heavy duty boots your human body wore.

At least he didn’t launch himself at you the moment his eyes landed on you, but that could be due to the blood loss rather than recognition.

<“Tsu’tey.”> You began in a soothing tone, daring a few steps closer. He reacted explosively, letting forth a hiss that made you instinctively back up. You recovered quickly, panic and worry, making your emotions warp into rage. <“I’m trying to help you, you ungrateful ass.”>

<“We don’t need your help, demon.”> He fired back, fury burning brightly in his golden eyes.

Your footsteps faltered. He hadn’t called you that since he’d found you wounded in the forest. Briefly, you realised what form you were in and what you were attempting to do. You remembered how weak you were like this. How vulnerable and useless you were in this environment.

Shame burned your cheeks as you met those familiar eyes, now smouldering with hatred and disgust.

<“Go away!”> Tsu’tey snarled with the command of his status laced within his words.

Your eyes caught on the green bandages beneath his neck piece, and you reorganised your priorities. Nothing matters beside making sure he lived.

If the situation were different, you would have obeyed the command but this time you stood firm with new resolve.

Face set in a harsh scowl, you approached. Tsu'tey tried to discourage you with sudden movements, but quickly wore himself out. Leaning back against the tree like he was, he was easily eye level with you standing. You kept that eye contact.

<“We need to get back to the compound. Your wounds are bad.”>

<“Go away!”> He repeated, making a half-hearted swipe that did nothing but create wind across your face.

“Y/n?” Jake’s voice yelled from the direction of the compound. “Are you still alive over here? We heard gunshots.” Of course he would’ve noticed your mad dash from the building despite being preoccupied.

“I’m with Tsu’tey.”

There was rustling of branches as Neytiri and Jake appeared, the latter uttering quiet curses as his eyes focused on the scene before him. Neytiri on the other hand gasped and fearlessly approached Tsu’tey.

He bared his teeth as she knelt before him, tail thrashing in warning. He clutched your avatar tighter, trying to shift his position to the side as if to shield it from sight with his body, its slack face smearing war paint across his shoulder.

Neytiri was having none of it. Stooping, she grabbed your avatar by the back of its belt and ripped it from Tsu’tey’s weakened grip with a ruthlessness that had your eyes bugging. Silently, you were very grateful that you weren't still linked to that body’s nervous system. Meanwhile, Tsu’tey made a wounded noise and immediately tried to scramble to his feet.

Neytiri dropped the avatar in favour of attempting to console him. Her tone was soothing but stern, eyes flickering from the man’s distressed expression to the blood beginning to seep through the leaves wrapped around his chest beneath the ceremonial neck piece.

<“Why did you do that? Give them back.”> Tsu’tey demanded, tone boarding on furious. Thank Eywa they’d turned up. At the first sight of tears in Tsu’tey’s eyes, your resolve to get him somewhere safe would have crumbled.

<“Fine.”> Neytiri stated, agreeing unnaturally easily, which made both you and Tsu’tey pause. Her head snapped to the side, gaze immediately locking on your own across the clearing before she barked your name, gesturing you over with wide arm motions. Your feet didn’t want to cooperate, even less so when Tsu’tey’s venomous glare slid over to you.

You stepped back as Jake approached your side, his much taller stature helping to ground your panicked heart.

Not that Neytiri seemed to care, ignoring her mate’s half hearted warnings, she rose and stormed over to you, her shadow blocking out the remaining rays of the eclipse as she reached for the collar of your shirt. Feeling oddly like a kitten that had just been scruffed, you squawked as you were abruptly lifted from the floor and dangled several feet from the ground.

“Neytiri be careful.” Jake hissed, hands coming up as if to take you from her, but his mate snarled at him.

“This will help.” She reassured him as she straightened, your boots leaving the floor. You made helpless eye contact with Jake, your hands gripping her wrist to take the strain off of your throat as she carelessly carried you back to Tsu’tey.

<“Here.”> She said, holding you up in front of the na'vi with a bored expression. Tsu’tey’s eyebrows scrunched together, eyes flickering from your panic stricken expression to Neytiri’s unreadable face. Although he wasn’t still actively trying to scramble for the avatar body, he hadn’t exactly relaxed. The earlier adrenaline was beginning to fade, his eyes growing unfocused.

<“They’re the same.”> Neytiri reassured him, shaking you for emphasis. You shrieked as the world spun, craning your neck to glare at her over your shoulder.

<“Help him. Don’t shake me like a fucking rattle.”> You found yourself growling, to which Neytiri grinned. Whilst a sharp inhale sounded from behind you. Unexpectedly, large hands were scrambling for you, clumsy in their strength but eager. Neytiri easily let you go, causing you to tumble into Tsu’tey’s lap.

Being within the consciousness of the avatar, you forgot how tall the na'vi were. But like this, in your human body, you could do nothing but remember. Wounded as he was, his enormous form easily eclipsed you, splayed legs and all.

Tsu’tey held you aloft by your armpits, gaze critical as he inspected you with swift flicks of his golden eyes. Instinctively, you drew your knees up to your chest in some pathetic attempt at shielding your vitals. Tsu’tey watched the movement like a hawk, lips pursed.

In your peripheral, you hear Jake trying to approach, his expression grim, only for Neytiri to stop him with a hand on his chest. She was watching the exchange with an unreadable expression. Waiting for some unspoken cue.

<“Where are you hurt?”> Tsu’tey demanded, voice firm despite the shake of his arms.

You frowned, wondering why you hadn’t been tossed aside or brained on a trunk yet. <“I’m not hurt.”> /Yet/.

Tsu’tey shook his head, clearly unconvinced. <“You passed out in my arms.”> So he /had/ recognised the likeness between you and your avatar. Interesting.

<“That was the avatar, not me.”> You insisted, bewildered that you were even having this conversation. You’d expect curiosity of course, Tsu’tey had always been that way. But you’d also expected rage. Definitely disgust.

Tsu’tey refused to take no for an answer and continued to check you for injuries. Your eyes caught on the blood stain steadily growing across the leaf bandage. <“But we still need to get you looked at.”> The wounds were serious but Tsu’tey was bigger than any human, so he’d been lucky so far with minimal blood loss, but you knew lady luck had a terrible habit of revoking her favour with the twist of her wrist.

<“Neytiri, we need to get moving.”> You stated, turning your pleading gaze to the smirking na'vi, hoping to get through to her since Tsu’tey was still not satisfied with his inspection. She seemed to take pity on you for once and approached to help Tsu’tey to his feet.

He went easily. Content to be helped to his feet as long as he had a hold of you in some way. Although that did end up with him holding you rather weirdly away from him, until Neytiri tutted and made him hold you to his chest instead.

Whilst Tsu’tey was preoccupied, Jake swooped in to scoop the na'vi off of his feet and continue making their way back to the compound.

>_<

The trio made it back to the pocket compound with minimal delay and well before the moon had fully risen. The plants had just begun to light up, illuminating the clumsy path you’d cut through the undergrowth in your initial haste to find your wayward friend.

Having walked on ahead, Jake had the lights of the compound on and opened the door when he heard you approaching. The window was still royally fucked up, but judging by the sway in his posture, he was merely exhausted rather than experiencing a lack of air.

“You need to set me down now.” You gently told Tsu’tey, tapping his hands to get his attention. He almost looked ready to argue, but deflated almost as quickly as he had stiffened. The long day of rigorous activity clearly had taken it out of him.

With care - and heavy support from Neytiri - he managed to kneel and set you on your feet. You darted away as soon as your feet made contact with the uneven terrain, both for a moment of peace and to get a fresh round of bullets into your weapon.

Ducking into the compound, you headed straight for your side of the link room, hands numbly rummaging around in a drawer for what you needed.

As you searched, Jake’s avatar appeared in the broken window, eyes flicking over the damaged floor and the link pod across the room still chugging away. “How’s your medical knowledge?” He asked, tone light.

You barked a laugh, knowing you hadn’t brushed up on healing since you’d completed your initial training to be cleared on the field. “We need to get him to Mo’at sooner rather than later.”

“I don’t know if he’ll go willingly.” Jake said simply, eyes flickering to the ruined link unit to your right. You grimaced, knowing you wouldn’t be able to link up whilst it was in that state, and by extension wouldn’t be able to help take Tsu’tey back to the People. You both knew that you couldn’t get within ten feet of the Tree of Souls like this. Not with RDA men swarming the forest like fire ants.

“You’re just going to have to force him.” You stated firmly, to which Jake only nodded.

Together you slipped back out into the night, Jake significantly more quiet than you’d heard in a long time.

Neytiri had sat Tsu’tey down leaning against it beneath the window. His head had begun to lul with the adrenaline spike wearing off. With a lack of energy, he was less likely to do too much damage should he find that anger you were expecting.

“We need to get him back to the clan.” Neytiri urged, her hand still on Tsu’tey’s shoulder, keeping him steady as his strength waned.

“Toruk is gone.” Jake supplied, “we’re gonna have to carry him.” Neytiri nodded her understanding, ushering Jake closer so the pair could pull the injured na’vi to his feet.

“Take care of him.” You urged but didn’t approach.

>_<

The moon was still high as Neytiri and Jake supported a wounded Tsu’tey down the slopes towards the Tree of Souls. The camp of na'vi had only just begun to bed down for the night after a long day of fighting and searching for the wounded. Healers were still drifting through the throngs of people, offering support and aid where they could.

By the time they reached the base of the hill and flat ground, Tsu’tey was leaning more heavily on Jake than he had been before.

Thankfully, Mo'at was still awake, her gaze piercing as she watched the trio stumble through the crowd towards her. She already had her supplies laid out around her, with oils and leaves ready. The usually bubbly personality of a mother swallowed by the stern, collected expression of the clan tsahik.

<“Bring him here.”> Mo’at ordered, all business motioning to the mat of woven stems to her left. To which Neytiri and Jake were quick to oblige, laying Tsu’tey before her, she was methodical in her observation of his wounds. <“Who patched him up? You daughter, yes? Considering Jake-Sully would not know the properties of this plant.”> Mo’at asked as she unclasped Tsu’tey’s necklace and began to unwind the plants that had been keeping his wound protected and the bleeding to a minimum.

<“No, mother. It was Y/n.”> Neytiri admitted, dropping into a kneel at her mother’s side to assist her in holding Tsu’tey down, whilst the Tsahik extracted the bullets and began applying a healthy amount of salve to the sluggishly bleeding wounds.

Mo’at hummed thoughtfully. Motioning for Neytiri to shift Tsu’tey so she could begin to rewrap the wounds in fresh river leaves. <“How intriguing. Most of our people do not realise the pain relieving properties within this plant.”>

<“They must have come across it in their research.”> Jake interjected, feeling useless as he simply hovered.

Mo’at hummed again. <“Indeed.”> She tied off the bandages with a sharp yank of her wrist, making Tsu’tey grimace. <“Where are they now? We have plenty of supplies to tend to their Dreamwalker and Sky Person body.”>

Jake gave Mo’at a rough layout of the location of the avatar in question and how far the pocket compound was. She kept nodding, only speaking up when he had finished his short explanation.

<"Bring them here, I must examine them for injuries.”>

>_<

You couldn’t sleep. The compound still smelt vaguely of blood and Norm had disappeared.

His link was empty, your own destroyed from Quaritch slamming his AMP suit against it.

Across the room, the other link unit was still whirring away. It had been two hours since he and Neytiri had dragged Tsu’tey back to the clan. Time in which you had not received a word of news.

Trudy was unaccounted for.

Your avatar was collapsed in the forest somewhere.

And you had nothing to fucking do.

You’d already tried to busy yourself with cleaning the pocket compound, sweeping away the glass and straightening what little had survived the conflict with Quaritch. Dragging in a chair from the kitchen, and sealing the broken window with a thick layer of flexible plastic and plenty of duct tape. It wasn’t perfect, but it was better than a wide open gash in the side of the building.

Once satisfied it was properly sealed, you slipped down from the chair and trudged over to the control panel near the door to reactivate the oxygen seal. Gradually, the toxic fumes of Pandora were sucked out through the vents and replaced with more breathable air. The room wasn’t very big and the compound itself was half the size you’d grown used to in the Hallelujah Mountains, so it didn’t take long for the control panel to flash green. You gave the room another few minutes to finish filtering before finally removing your exopack.

And just like that, all the jobs and maintenance that needed to be done were complete.

You wanted out. The compound was too small. It held too many painful memories, and felt more like a prison than a sanctuary. And not only because Quaritch had died on the lawn. If you weren’t concentrating, you could almost convince yourself that Grace still roamed the rooms. That you could smell her cigarette or the awful suffocating, floral perfume she favoured.

With nothing else to do, your gaze fell on Norm’s vacant link unit. It wouldn’t hurt to bring your avatar closer to the compound, or take out a few more RDa soldiers if they were lurking too close to the clans.

Whatever it was, you NEEDED to keep yourself busy. If you stopped now, the grief and pain would consume everything you were. It was one thing to lose Grace, but the events of the past several hours were piling up too high for you to handle.

Relinking was as easy as breathing.

One moment you were in your human body, the next, you were opening your eyes to the moon stretching across a starlit sky. You weren’t far from the compound. Groggily, you rolled onto your stomach, muscles screeching in pain so sharply that you hissed through your teeth, feeling forced to hold still to allow the first wave to subside.

Shit.

You weren’t bleeding, not externally at least. The vines and branches had mostly cushioned your fall so nothing was broken, but a few places were definitely tender.

With desperate gasps, you hauled yourself to your feet. Fuck. Falling from the sky definitely took it out of you. Your entire back was screaming in pain with every breath, but at least it wasn’t unbearable to the point where you couldn’t breath.

You steadied yourself, ears swivelling for the telltale signs of predators or soldiers moving through the undergrowth. There was nothing. Pandora seemed to be resting. Eywa’s creations pulling back for the night to regroup in the shadows.

Yanking your knife from the sheath at your chest anyway - just to be safe - you turned your back to the compound and started picking your way down the hill in search of survivors.

It was slow work, your body actively working against you as you travelled, stooping to check pulses and closing the eyes of the fallen. The moon watched over you as you made your way through the battlefield, trying not to feel disturbed by the faces you recognised collapsed in the undergrowth.

AMP suits littered the ground, weapons dropped and discarded. At least most of the fires had burnt themselves out by now.

You found comfort in finding more RDA bodies than Na’vi. Although that did work in your favour when you noticed a lone avatar slumped on the ground, decked out in RDA issued attire.

Heart in your throat, you altered your course. Ferns pulled at your calves as if begging you not to approach. To not look and perceive the damage done. It took effort, but you steeled yourself as you crested the small, grassy rise and found Norm’s avatar lying in an unnatural position in the bed of the ditch below.

There were two shots through his left shoulder, and a discarded gun lying limp in the hand of his good arm. Swallowing back a gag, you carefully slid down the rise. The chest of the avatar still breathed, but its driver was nowhere in sight. There was no telling where Norm had gone, you only prayed he had been smart enough to go back to the clan.

No spirit guided your hand this time, not that you needed Eywa’s advice on a matter you’d already learnt. After swiftly identifying which leaves to use to cover the wound, you busied yourself with wrapping up Norm’s avatar.

The forest sighed as a strong breeze rustled the canopy, making vines sway and the grass bow against your legs. It was gonna be a hell of a pain to drag his heavy ass to the Tree of Souls, but what else was there to do around here?

>_<

You heard the temporary camp before you saw it. Anyone who wasn’t injured was busy with tasks, either providing protection by standing guard, tending to the fires, or healing the injured. Cresting the hill at the lip of the valley, you adjusted Norm’s avatar against your back. It’s head was hooked over your shoulder as your arms supported its thighs in a piggyback hold.

Carefully, you descended down the rocky ledge towards the camp, feeling the weak puffs of breath against your neck. No one paid you any mind as you stumbled along, the crowd working with you as people darted out of your way as they completed their own tasks. The volume of people was significantly less than there had been this afternoon, but hunting parties would have already been assigned to guard the clan whilst search parties combed the forest for survivors.

As you neared the Tree of Souls, you called for a healer, to which Mo’at materialised out of seemingly nowhere. Her movements were frantic as she leapt down from the high roots of the tree, eyes boring into your face with eyes that knew too much.

That powerful gaze flickered to the avatar at your back, her lips pursing even as her strides did not falter.

<”Rawlon!”> The Tsahik hollered over her shoulder, to which one of the na’vi resting between the tree’s roots promptly rose to his feet, ears pricked. <”Another one with bullet wounds. Take him to a spare mat.”>

<”Of course Tsahik.”> Rawlon replied obediently. His movements were smooth as he made his way to you, easily taking Norm’s weight off your back with a strength that suggested he was well rested. With that, he whisked the avatar out of sight, yelling to healers you couldn’t see for the appropriate equipment.

You watched them go with a frown, despite knowing the avatar would be in good hands.

All at once, you found yourself with no further tasks. Mo’at hadn’t left though, so you quickly turned to her, <”if there anything I can assist you with?”>

Her ears perked comically, a bewildered look flashing across her eyes. <”You are no healer.”> She said simply, to which you couldn’t argue.

<”I am not. But I can run for supplies.”>

<”You are wounded. You need rest.”> She continued, her hand coming up to your shoulder, which she gripped and began carefully guiding towards the sleeping mats. Despite the obedient movements of your body, you shook your head.

<”I can still be useful-”>

<”You are useless to us dead.”> She said firmly. <”Come. I must assess your injuries.”>

<”No, really. I’m fine. I just fell off my ikran.”> You rambled, surprised by the strength of her grip as she practically dragged you towards a spare mat. Her fingers dug into your shoulders as she forcefully pushed you down into a kneel, gaze sharp when you tried to wiggle away.

<”Calm. It would ease my mind to check you over and realise you’re fine, than come back later to a corpse.”> She reasoned soothingly before striding back to the tree. She didn’t go far. Her beaded shawl captured the soft pink glow of the Tree of Souls as she stooped near the roots and scooped up some supplies.

Within moments, she had knelt herself down opposite you, piercing gaze back on your body. <”Remove this.”> She ordered, pinging your weapon’s belt against your chest before diverting her gaze to the supplies she gathered.

You tried to comply. Cursing and sweating at the sharp pull of your muscles as you failed to twist your arms well enough to undo the latch. She was definitely grinning smugly when she returned her attention to you. Slapping your hands away, she undid the belt herself and set it down by your side.

The pair of you lapsed into silence as her forehead creased. Those large eyes examining you with a critical eye. You winced as her hands trailed along your body, ghosting over small wounds and wiping smeared warpaint as she went. Her eyes were narrowed, a critical edge to her expression as she worked.

<”Nothing is broken.”> She muttered to herself, which you already knew. <”Mainly pain from the fall and a bruised pride.”> She grabbed one of her salves anyway, ordering you to turn so she could rub it into the tender muscles of your back and upper arms. The effect was almost immediate, soothing the fire in your body with a cooling sensation.

As the creams took effect, Mo’at turned on you, her gaze narrowed accusingly. You stiffened, wincing as your body complained. <”Now child, tell me. How did you know what leaf to use to wrap up the Olo’eyktan’s wounds?”> She asked bluntly, looking at you in a way that suggested she’d know if you were lying.

<“An atokirina led me to them.”> You admitted honestly, <“and then led us to Neytiri and Jake.”>

Mo’at nodded along to your story, expression thoughtful. <”Then Eywa has blessed you.”> And with that, Mo’at rose from her crouch, whispering something about spirits and rest, as she turned and disappeared around the side of the Tree of Souls, her low voice whisked away by the wind.

You relaxed back onto your mat, closing your eyes but not quite falling asleep as you didn’t want to unlink and end up alone again. Lulled by the familiar hum of the Clan, content to accept your fate, and with a body that didn’t feel like it was going to die between every breath.

>_<

You were not sure how much time passed, only that the clan was growing quiet. People shuffled into sleeping mats as the cooking fires were extinguished and the wounded left to rest. Your ears twitched towards the sounds, eyes closed as you tracked each footfall and tired sigh, your mind struggling to relax from its adrenaline high.

Hands on your cheeks had your eyelids flying open. Four fingers. A strong grip. Someone leaning over you, blocking out the limited light of the eclipse. Braids tickled your cheeks, as large, sharp eyes scanned your face.

You breathed a sigh of relief at Tsu’tey’s trademark scowl. And then remembered that said idiot had just suffered an almost fatal injury, and definitely shouldn’t have crawled out of whatever healing sleep Mo’at had put him under to come check on you.

Instinctively, your ears flattened at Tsu’tey’s close proximity, your hands unconsciously pushing at him. Even wounded, he was as stubborn as a mule. His pursed lips pulled down into a frown, as he was shoved back onto his knees to allow you room to sit up.

<”You assured me you were not injured!”> He bit out with such anger and betrayal that it had your head spinning.

<”I’m not!”> You returned sharply. It was clear in the sharp flick of his tail that he did not believe you.

He huffed loudly, large eyes scanning over your face. You felt like a specimen under a microscope, but you realised with a pang and the uncomfortable tightening of your heart that the way he looked at you hadn’t changed. There was no disgust swimming within the depths of those eyes. Just annoyance, as if you had been up to no good, rather than saving his ass and running around the forest as a human.

At the thought, your eyes flickered down to his naked chest which had been neatly wrapped in green leaves. The river leaves, you realised.

<“You should still be resting.”>

<“I’ve rested.”> He insisted. You frowned. Judging by the position of the moon, it had only been four hours since Neytiri and Jake had dragged him down here to get patched up. He should be out cold. Then again, little could keep this idiot from doing what he pleased.

Nonetheless, that attitude wasn’t going to fly tonight. The clan needed a living leader, not another deceased Olo’eyktan to add to the ancestors. <”Tsu’tey, you got shot. You need sleep.”> You pushed, taking a moment to glance around the large clearing for an empty sleeping spot. <”Where is your mat?”>

He waved you off, his eyes suddenly distant. You followed his gaze, realising he was watching the Tree of Souls. Tail swaying slowly as he wordlessly observed the calm floating of the atokirina dotted amongst the higher branches of the tree.

<”What’s wrong?”> His tail thumped loudly. You steeled yourself. <”Tsu’tey?”>

He swallowed loudly, and you waited. Internally dreading what was to come. <”I could feel Her calling to me.”> He hissed, voice barely above a whisper.

<”Who?”>

<”Eywa.”> Tsu’tey replied simply. You tore your gaze away from the gorgeous hue of the tree’s vines. Your pained expression turned to him, but he wasn’t looking at you. <”She was telling me to get up. Kept urging me to walk; to follow her atokirina. I was so tired.”> He admitted, before adding with a sigh, <”I am /still/ tired.”>

You opened your mouth to suggest getting him back to his mat, but he clearly wasn’t done saying his piece. He swallowed, ears falling as he refused to meet your gaze. <”I held on as long as I could, to protect you.”>

He looked so defeated. His shoulders curling in on himself. A shadow of the proud Olo’eyktan who had led the warriors to victory only hours ago.

<”I’m fully grown, you dick.”> You forced out, aiming for humour but knowing that your tone fell short. <”I can take care of myself.”>

<”But you’re so small.”> He whispered and finally looked at you. But not at your avatar, it was like he was peering through the link to your human body. Perceiving you in a new light. In a way you’d never been seen before. <”And weak. I could’ve killed you in a heartbeat.”>

Your mind flashed to his snarling face. The pure hatred of his expression in contrast to the protective way in which he’d clung to your avatar.

You tried for humour again. <”As if. You were so delirious from blood loss, you could barely tell up from down.”>

<”But I tried to.”> He said, knuckles tight where his hands had fallen into his lap. <”I wanted to hurt you. I /wanted/ to make you go away. You were too close.”>

You sighed. <”I know, and I wasn’t listening to you. I’m sorry about that, but you were injured, and getting you home was more important than your temper tantrum.”>

His eyes scanned your face, tracing the constellation of your glowing freckles in the soft light of the Tree of Souls. Your stomach tightened as that uncertain gaze flickered away again. <”I understand why you did not wish to show me that body.”> He said, head bowed respectfully in a gesture that immediately had alarm bells ringing in your mind. <”And I will work harder to prove myself to you-”>

You were quick to grasp his shoulders. It felt wrong for him to bow to you. Almost out of character. Tsu’tey did not bend to any force beyond the good of his clan. And he’d certainly never done so to you, let alone start sprouting such bullshit.

<”Hey, wait. No. Oh no no no, that is not what this is about.”> You scrambled to explain. And he fell quiet, tail flicking in confusion. <”You are not the issue here.”>

<”I tried to kill you.”> He reminded you in disbelief, but you were already shaking your head.

<”And I tried to kill /you/ remember? I almost flattened you.”> He smiled then, small and full of nostalgia.

<”The clumsiness carries over through the link then?”>

<”Oh? You’re funny now?”> He grinned. <”But seriously, it’s not you.”>

<”What is it then?”>

<”The Sky People have taken a lot from you.”> You said truthfully, <”I didn’t want anything to change between us.”> Your skin crawled at the utterance of such blatantly vulnerable words, but you knew they were necessary at that moment. You needed to clear up this miscommunication before it could fester into something severe. <”I didn’t want you to stop seeing me.”> He was looking at you strangely now, and you wanted to kick yourself but you soldiered on. <”And I know that’s really selfish, but I wanted to be selfish with you. I enjoy our time together, and I value our friendship-”>

<”Y/n?”>

<”Yeah?”>

He raised his hand to his forehead, fingers spread before bringing that hand down in a smooth sweeping motion. You felt your tongue turn to lead in your throat, your eyes bugging out as he held firm eye contact. <”I see you.”>

It was one thing to be told that someone loved you, and believe them. It was an entirely new experience to bare all you were to someone, mind and soul, and have them acknowledge everything you were. To strip back the barriers, observe all your faults and flaws, and continue to accept you.

<”I see you.”> Tsu’tey repeated as if he hadn’t just single handedly brought your world to a screeching halt. <”All of you, Y/n.”> And there it was again, that look that seemed to reach back through the connection and make the body of your human form sweat.

​Previous chapter <- Act 4 -> Next chapter

#tsu'tey x reader #Tsu'tey #cannon divergent #injury #no death #this bitch ain't dying tonight #Eywa being helpful (for once)

[random-writer-4884]

Bandage Wrap and some Sugar Chicken (Tony Stark X Depressed Reader)

Bandage Wrap and some Sugar Chicken

Tony Stark x Depressed Reader

By: @random-writer-4884

Description: After taking care of Tony and his mental health, your own mental health starts to collapse. You continuously push aside your own feelings until Tony and the team are away on a mission. While they're gone the temptation of the knife becomes a bit too much. (This fic is cannon divergent)

Content Warnings: Self Harm, Blood, cutting, descriptions of cutting, death, temporary death.

Nothing was wrong, per-say, you were just tired. It had been long. Long days, long weeks, long months. It had simply been long.

The fight against Loki had caused so many damages. The structural damage was glaringly obvious, although the repairs were happening quickly. I had watched as Stark Tower quickly became Avengers Tower. There have been a lot of changes to your home. You didn’t necessarily mind, it wasn’t too bad having more people to hang out with if you so chose to. Besides, you and Tony had a large handful of floors all to yourself. A few of those were only for you. And any floor you wanted to be out of reach for the avengers were entirely out of reach. Locked and kept strictly to you (and Tony). 

Loki was under strict monitoring and was secluded to his own floor within the tower. With some help from the asgardians and shield, they were able to fashion some fancy, yet comfy, bracelets to keep him from using magic. 

That was absolutely fantastic! Thor was very enthusiastic that his brother wouldn’t have to be locked in an asgardian prison (although it was rumored to be quite a nice place). 

And while it was quite a well planned out solution, there was one thing that wasn’t taken into account.

Tony

The man who consistently pushes away his own thoughts and feelings for others. It's true that to the public eye he appears to be some spoiled rich man without a care in the world, no one has quite realized the impact becoming Iron-Man had made on him.

You had spent countless nights holding him while he suffered from Afghanistan, and how much trauma he had. Finally things had started to look up for him. He started doing some things for himself, smiling. How his smile lit up the room. Maybe it didn’t for others, but damn did it make you happy. 

What no one had expected was for Tony to die. Granted he wasn’t dead now, but JARVIS had reported that once he fell from the wormhole and he was back online that Tony’s heart had stopped. It was a miracle he was alive, and while it was an amazing thing it left him with even more trauma.

More sleepless nights, he stopped smiling for himself again, and you did everything you could to be there for him. And after many more months of taking care of him you finally saw some progress. Smiles started returning, he was eating without having to be reminded. There were always bad days but it was so much better than before.

Of course nothing was exactly easy anymore. While you had been taking care of him, your own mental health had suffered. You wouldn’t call yourself suicidal, or even wanting to hurt yourself, but the knife was tempting. 

Okay, maybe something was wrong, but you certainly weren’t going to admit that. Besides, Tony already had enough going on. With Loki living in the same building, it was hard to avoid the anxiety attacks.

Tony and the rest of the team were on a mission, you had a few hours left before they would return. Besides, once they did everyone would be exhausted, Tony would either lock himself into his workshop or he would go straight to bed. You had plenty of time all to yourself.

You went to your floor, and coded to lock Tony out. Although it really wouldn’t matter. No one would walk in on you. 

���JARVIS, Turn off the cameras and audio surveillance in this room.”  

“Miss, are you sure about that?” The AI pipped in relatively quickly

You sighed “Turn them off JARVIS.”

“Yes Miss.” Was the simple reply. 

You sat down on the bed and pulled out your knife. You had made sure razors blades had been removed after Loki’s invasion, if for no other reason than because trauma can fuck with someones brain. 

You took a deep breath and put the knife to your thigh.

Just one cut.

That turned into two

Into three.

Four…

Five…

Six… 

You had forgotten how hard it could be once you started. The blood was addicting. Just a couple of droplets at first, then more. You had kept up with wiping it up, if for no other reason to avoid the question of blood on the sheets. 

You sat for a few minutes, just wiping the blood as it fell. Not quite giving it the chance to stop.  The pain stung, and it was somehow calming. 

It was nice… until there was a loud knock at the door. 

“JARVIS! I thought I locked down this floor!”

“You did Miss, but it has been overridden.” JARVIS calmly replied. 

You quickly stuffed the knife and dirty towel under the sheets, ruffled your hair, and quickly hid underneath the covers. “Who is it?” 

“It's me darling, open up please.” 

It was Tony… and he wasn’t supposed to see this. You didn’t reply right away, and you heard his call to JARVIS.

“JARVIS, override the door lock and let me the hell in.” 

Yeah that was expected. You heard a click and the door whirred open and closed as he walked in. You closed your eyes quickly, and slowly opened them when you felt his weight dip onto the bed.

“Good morning, sleepy head” he said as he placed his hand on your hair, gently brushing it aside. You faked a yawn and leaned into his hand.

“Morning. What time is it? You aren’t supposed to be back yet.” You said, trying to make it sound as sleepy and realistic as possible.

“It's late enough,” Tony said, “that you shouldn’t be in bed anymore.” He moved his hand so his thumb was right under your eye and gently rubbed in up and down. “And I’m home, because the mission didn’t need me anymore. Besides, I wanted to spend some time with you.”

“Tones that’s so sweet.” You feigned a stretch and another yawn. “I’ll get dressed and I’ll meet you in the living room in a few minutes and we can watch something or order some food.”

He nodded. Good, it would give you time to wrap this up and get dressed before he could figure it out. “Actually, I think I’d like to just stay here. Perhaps just some snuggles. I am a bit tired.” 

“How about we get dinner! I’m sure you're absolutely starving! We could get some of the Shawarma you've been begging me to try?” You struggled trying to find anything to deter him from the bed.

He started to pick up the covers, and you quickly shuffled to try to pull them down. 

“Darling” he started, before he even revealed your thighs “I know something is very wrong, and I need you to tell me. Otherwise I’ll find out myself. Alright?” You froze. There was no way you were getting out of this. 

You weren’t speaking. Just staring at him in fear. What if he got angry? What if he threw you out? 

He sighed as he continued lifting up the covers, revealing your thighs next to a bloody knife and towel. Tony looked from your thighs back into your eyes. You were shaking, and tears began to form in your eyes. 

You closed your eyes and turned away, expecting some sort of outlash. Instead you were met with the towel gently pressing onto your thigh. You opened your eyes to watch him sit down next to you and gently dab at the wounds. 

When he saw you staring he took one hand away to place on your face and gave a gentle kiss to your forehead. “It's alright sweetheart, I’ll be right back. I just need to grab something, alright?” You looked at him and nodded.

He got up from the bed and walked out the door, before it closed behind him you heard him call out to JARVIS. From there you couldn’t understand the conversation. So you simply sat there and waited for his return. 

When you looked down at what you had done, you immediately felt terrible. Angry red lines glared back at you and you couldn’t stop the tears. With all you did to help Tony and not be a burden, here you are… being a burden to him.

He came back into the room a few minutes later, and sat down on the bed. He had a box in his hand that he set down so he could hold your face. “It's alright princess, cry all you need to. I’m right here for you.” With that he pulled you into his chest and held you as you cried, gently letting his fingers comb through your hair. 

Once the sobs subsided, and you were left with some hiccups, Tony gently pulled you away from his chest. “I’m going to need to clean these now, is that alright darling?” You nodded as he opened the box he had set down. You didn’t watch as he cleaned it, but you felt as he gently wrapped it with a bangaging wrap. 

When he was done, he slowly leaned over and gave you a gentle kiss on the forehead. He pulled away with a gentle smile. 

“C’mon now sweetheart. Dinner should be here any time now. I had JARVIS order that sugar chicken stuff you like from, ugh what was it?”

“Panda Express, sir” Jarvis piped in 

“Yeah! That! I had him get whatever you tend to get, I can never remember between Panda and the family run place a few blocks away.” He smiled as he got up from the bed and grabbed one of his seriously oversized shirts and handed it to you. 

“This should be nice and comfortable. Be gentle on that leg. Try not to sleep on it or do anything strenuous. It shouldn’t be needing stitches, but if they get torn open I’ll have to send you to get some. For now they’re good though.” 

Once you finished fumbling with the shirt he handed you, you looked back up at him. “Tony?” Your voice was barely more than a whisper. He hummed in response. “How did you know what to do? And why weren’t you angry? And-” 

Tony gently puts a finger to your mouth to cut you off. “I’m not angry because no one should get angry over this. Clearly you're hurting, and it wouldn’t help to get angry.” He sat back down next to you before continuing. “I’ve had my struggles too sweetheart, I didn’t want to risk you getting an infection. I got one once and ooh it was a struggle to deal with on my own. I didn’t need the press to get involved.” 

He pulled you into a hug when JARVIS spoke through the speakers. “While I am very sorry to interrupt you both, your dinner has arrived and Mr. Hogan is getting very impatient since he cannot leave the elevator.”

Tony chuckled as he stood up. You went to follow but he reached an arm under your shoulder blades and the other under your knees and picked you up. You started to protest but Tony simply ignored you as he sat you down on the couch.

As Tony strutted to the elevator you realized you never actually found out why he was back so early. “Tony! Why are you actually back so early?”

He turned back to look at you “Oh! Yeah! JARVIS told me that you had locked the floor, turned off the video and audio. I sorta figured something wasn’t right so I dipped out on the mission. They were fine without me.” He quickly turned on his heels and went to the elevator.

You looked up at the ceiling before shouting,

“JARVIS YOU TRAITOR!”

#tony stark x reader #the avengers #mcu #tony stark #iron man #iron man x reader #x reader #sh #Tony stark x depressed reader #depressed reader #cutt1ng #cannon divergent #set after #avengers 1 #avengers 2012 #anthony edward stark #fanfiction #avengers #marvel avengers #Anthony stark #Anthony stark x reader #jarvis #tony #J.A.R.V.I.S

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Sinners and Saints || Chris Redfield || Day Three

A/n: welcome back for day three of Kinktober. The theme for today is knife play. I'm excited about this one. I hope you enjoy it.

Warning(s): oral (m), Evil! Chris Redfield, knife play, gender-neutral reader, face fucking, minor blood.

No Minors Allowed!!

Chris is gone. Or rather the man you thought you had known.

The warrior and the survivor are all gone. Now he's corrupt; Albert Wesker and the Connections are to blame. Because of them, Chris is broken, and there is nothing you nor anyone else can do to bring him back.

You had tried and because you had done so, you are now bound to a chair in some warehouse god knows where.

Fuck!

How did he get the drop on you? It doesn't matter now. What matters is getting free; getting help. You never should have gone after him alone.

"Chris", you utter. "Please. I want to talk to you; I want to see you."

You know he can hear you. A camera in the corner of the room watches you. Then the door to the office opens and the man in question walks in. He looks stressed; his blue eyes no longer shine with the same passion and determination they use to.

"I miss you. It's hard seeing you like this," you mention.

Chris snorts.

"Like what? Liberated? Fed the fuck up with the world?"

"Defeated," you answer.

He hums and walks over to the desk, opening it.

"Maybe I am.

Taking out a steel flask he offers you a drink, but you refuse.

"I can help you, Chris. We can turn our backs on this entire mess together. I know how you––"

"Just listen to yourself," Chris interrupts with a laugh. He takes a drink from the flask and tosses it onto the desk. "You don't know a damn thing about how I feel; you or anyone of those self-proclaimed heroes."

Tears blur your eyes. You watch him pull a combat knife from his vest by the finger ring and spin it. He walks over to you and leans down.

"I lost everyone and it took this long to realize that Wesker was right; the world is weak."

Sliding the edge of the knife against your cheek, he grins as it cuts into your skin and draws blood; you groan in discomfort.

"I guess that makes you an exception, huh?" Chris asks.

He leans forward and runs his tongue over the cut, then tilts his head to kiss you. What is he doing? You widen your eyes; this is wrong, but a part of you savors the attention. Your eager lips press against his.

Chris bends up and grins. You are just as amused.

"Open your mouth," he orders.

Why? Too curious to ask, you part your lips. Chris raises the knife and you shrink back in fear.

"Relax. I'm not going to hurt you," he assures you.

Not sure if you believe him or not, you hesitantly open your mouth for him. Chris rests the tip of the knife against your tongue; the metallic taste assaults your taste buds, but you ignore it and stare into his stormy eyes as he eases the blade further into your mouth.

"You're a saint, darling."

And he's unhinged.

A lead of saliva connects to the blade as he removes it.

"I bet you'd take my cock just as good."

"You're the one in control," you utter.

Chris reaches down to palm the obvious bulge in his pants, undoing the button. Once he's free, you watch in eager anticipation as he begins to bounce his hand, spreading precum across the head of his cock. Your mouth waters.

"Chris," you whine.

The said man snorts and buries his fingers in your hair, jerking your head forward. You groan as he bottoms out, nearly gagging. Gathering as much saliva in your mouth as possible, you bob your head. Your pace is slow at first, taking pleasure in the fact that the noises coming from Chris are because of you. But it doesn't last.

You lose the pace as Chris begins to thrust his hips, fucking your mouth. His grip on your hair makes it hard to move your head and the knife against your throat puts the fear of death into you.

Is he out of his mind?

Tears sting your eyes as his thrusts grow more chaotic. It's hard to breathe. Lewd noises pour out of your mouth, sounding too much like a cheesy porno film, and at least once you gag as his cock touches the back of your throat. You want to move; to slow him down a little but already the blade is biting into your skin. You fear he may slit your throat at this rate, so you do your best to remain still, creating suction around his cock.

And he orgasms. His warm cum spurts down your throat and you remain in place until Chris is done, pulling his cock from your mouth. Saliva and cum leak down your chin.

You close your sore mouth and swallow the mess, watching through blurry eyes as Chris redresses and thankfully puts away the knife.

He's nice enough to wipe the mess from your chin, but he doesn't make a move to free you from your binds.

"I have things to do, but when I return, since you've been so good to me, I'll let you out of that chair," Chris mentions, rubbing his thumb across your cheek.

There are no words. You nod and watch him stand and leave the room. As bad as it is to admit, you wish he had fucked the sense out of you. Then perhaps the fact that Chris is beyond saving would not sting so much.

You must confess, you like the new him. He's wrong though, you aren't a saint. He is yours.

#resident evil fanfiction #chris redfield #chris redfield x reader #cannon divergent #evil Chris redfield #resident evil kinktober 2022

[wistfulweaverwoman]

Here is chapter six of The Awkward In-Between. Halfway done with seven so I’ll probably post that in a few days.

#The Awkward In-Between #TAIB #everlark #cannon divergent

[renee-writer]

I Fought the Law Chapter 53

AO3

“You best prepare them.” Murtagh suggests. Jamie nods and steps out. He goes up to the door and enters.

Claire stands at his entrance, Fergus cradled in her arms. “Jamie, Gel knows a barrister that can help us with his paperwork.”

 

He smiles, kisses her and then the top of his son’s head. “That is excellent.”

“Did you guys get everything sorted?”

“Well sort of. We did get the portal destroyed but…, there was a complication.”

 

“Yes?”

 

“Us, or a version of us, my ancestor, James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser and his wife, Elizabeth, who I swear Claire is the split of you, came through. They are here, literally, in the car.”

 

Geillis is forgotten until she calls out, “The hell you say!”

 

“Hand to God.” He replies not taking his eyes off Claire. “Shall I bring them in?”

 

She nods as her mate says, “Absolutely!”

 

“Yes, bring them in.”  She says through numb lips.

 

They enter with hesitation. At seeing Claire and Geillis, wearing trousers, Jamie the first, starts to say something and then stops, recalling when they are. Instead, he bows low while his wife courtesies.

 

“Lasses, thank you for your hospitality. I am James Alexander Malcolm Mackenzie Fraser, the Laird of Lallybroch and this is my wife, the Lady Elizabeth.”

 

“Very nice to meet you. I am Geillis Duncan and this is my mate, Claire Beauchamp and her son, Fergus.”

 

“Our son.” Jamie adds.

 

“Won’t you have a seat.” Claire offers.

 

They do, Elizabeth tucking her dress carefully in. She looks amazingly like herself. It is eerie. The others find seats around the room. Jamie takes Fergus rocking him against his chest. They all look at each other.

 

“So, you ah, came through the stone?” Geillis says.

 

“No Mistress Duncan. We were at Castle Leoch and suddenly found ourselves in the presence of the others.” James answers.

 

“It was quite a shock.” Elizabeth adds. Her accent is higher browed then Claire’s who has lived all over.

 

“I can well imagine.” Claire answers. The two lasses look at each other. The similarities are amazing.

 

“Jamie, we must have a child. Lady Beauchamp must come from us.”

 

“Aye, mo ghra, we must.”

 

Jamie and Claire look at each other. Does this mean they are related way back? Before either can speak, there is a knock.

 

“Oh that must be Ned, the solicitor.” Geillis exclaims.

 

“Oh boy.” Angus mumbles.

 

“You might as well let him in Gel. Maybe he can help make sense of all this.”

#my writing #outlander fanfic #i fought the law #chapter 53 #jamie and claire #cannon divergent #modern au #outlander fanfiction

[berryshiara]

Daughters of War Chapter 2

Recap: This is an Enemies to Lovers story between Eivor and Randvi. Chapter one, the idea to end the war through a handfasting was given to Eivor. Now, while she is still a little loopy from the pain medicine, Eivor solicits help to put her plan into action. Sending her trusted man out into the fox den hoping she read the signs right and that he is not harmed.

#Daughters of War #DOW #AC Valhalla #Assassin's Creed Valhalla #Randivor #Eivor x Randvi #Enemies to Lovers #Eivor's timeline #cannon divergent #Chapter two

[clickingkeys]

Chapters: 1/? Summary:

KomaHina Backrooms AU. (Explanation of The Backrooms inside.) Takes place during the Investigation in Chapter 4. Nagito has just found out the truth behind Class 77, and he's not afraid to use his poison tongue against his classmates. He doesn't even hold back for his crush, Hajime Hinata. But when one "Reserve Course" student remark goes a step too far, Hajime retaliates and stomps off, only to... Completely disappear, as if he just vanished from reality. Nagito follows suit, only to find himself trapped in another dimension. Now, Nagito must find Hajime before getting them both back to the world from which they came. But the longer Nagito stays in this strange place, the less sure he becomes that either of his goals are even possible to achieve. Nagito and Hajime have become lost in this winding, liminal space. Welcome to The Backrooms, boys.

#komahina #hinakoma #komahina backrooms au #hinakoma backrooms au #danganronpa 2 #danganronpa 2 backrooms crossover #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #cannon divergent #unfinished #clickingkeys fic #fragmented reality chapter one #the backrooms #fragmented reality

[cease-this-bitch-crying]

Has anyone written a fic or comic that's a fizzbot/Detroit become human crossover because listen if there's some out there I need them lmao

#helluva boss #fic rec #dbh #crossover au #cannon divergent #i have a mighty need

[ellalba]

I saw the Barbie Movie trailer.

Two scenarios for this: either they got caught without their license (thank you @kyluxtrashpit for this hilarious thought.

Or Hux is mad they had to defect to the New Republic and Kylo is just chilling with the knowledge Mommy’ll get him before he has to spend a single night in jail.

#Kylux #Huxlo #Barbie Movie draw your ship #Cannon Divergence #Kylo Ren #Armitage Hux #General Hux #Ben Solo/Kylo Ren #I mean I had to #Star Wars #just a quick doodle #Scandalous Wrists

[crystalskiesandcherrywine]

The sound of the waves collide // Part Two

Here is Part 2!

Na Baron Feys Rautha x Atreides!Reader

FxM

Cannot wait to tell my version of their story, we are getting closer to the smutty fun part of it.

All feedback is welcome <3

Part One // Part Three // Part Four

1.200 Words

_______________

The sounds of the hall are muffled. This seems to be a contest between you and Na Baron on who will pull away first.

His unreadable gaze challenging you to uncover what lies beneath. The moment is shattered when the Emperor's voice cuts through. Your father speaks for you. 

"Please excuse my daughters' shyness, most esteemed Emperor." The Emperor's laughter brings you back to reality, and you leave your soon-to-be husband's eyes to look at your hands, trying to concentrate. The Emperor seems amused by your behavior: 

"You're not the first young lady to just stand in front of me and not be able to say a word. May I present Na Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen and his uncle, Baron Vladimir Harkonnen of Giedi Prime" There seems to be kindness in his tone. It gives you the confidence to look up again: "It is an honor to be in your presence, Emperor. I thank you with all my heart for granting me this match."

 A bubbling, sour sound fills the room: "I am not so sure you will be grateful once you are married to my nephew"

It is absurd to you now how you could not register the source of the remark: Baron Vladimir Harkonnen, a grotesque floating figure, draped in black cloth to give him a regal and imposing effect, hovers between the Empress's throne and the Na Baron. He also seems smooth and pale but lacks the grace of a warrior. He looks more like a dark cloud, sucking the energy from his surroundings. The black orbs attached to his body make a faint clicking sound. You try to make a mental note to read his chapter first, once you are back in your room, 

"My trust lies in the wisdom of the Emperor and the decision of my esteemed father, Duke Leto Atreides." You make sure to sound as loud as clear as you can. The Baron seems displeased by your defiance, but Feud Rautha can't hold back a slight upward curl of his lips. You know that you cannot appear meek in front of him, so you are satisfied with your impression for now. 

„Now that you are introduced, you are granted to escort your betrothed to the celebration of my daughters and her brothers wedding. You are also permitted to spend some time together, of course in the presence of an adequate chaperone“ And having said that the emperor leaves the room, followed by the floating Baron and your father. 

You can feel Feyd Rauthas looking at you again, he doesn't seem to hold back at all, his eyes brushing over your dress, almost as if he were undressing you with his eyes. There is something alluring about your betrothed. His features are clear, his skin pure white, and with his black uniform he seems to be lit from within. You have yet to exchange a word with him and already feel a gravitational pull between you. As he approaches, you curtsy and bow your head. 

"It is a pleasure to escort you to your brothers' celebrations, my lady," his voice seems a little raspy and deep. He extends his arm to you as if in invitation, and you feel his lean muscles through the fabric of his shirt. His arm is warmer than you expected and you try not to worry about the cold of your own fingers. 

"We will soon be husband and wife. I hope you are ready for all the new experiences that will come with it.“ The promise of unexplored pleasures hinted at in his words—all of it pulls you into a vortex of excitement and desire.

"I am sure we both need to be prepared. I am to follow you to your world and your customs, but rest assured, I intend to bring some of my own into this union," you say in a playful tone.

"I look forward to learning more about them," he says almost in a whisper, coming closer to your ear and making the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

You reach the feast and he leads you to your place at the table.

"My lady," he gives you a slightly crooked smile, takes your hand and raises it to his lips. Just the slightest touch of your knuckles and he's gone, leaving you as nervous as you were before and yet as fascinated as you could imagine from such a brief interaction.

________

The wedding party goes on for hours after Paul and Irulan exchange their vows, with music and wine flowing, and you see Paul beaming at his bride, her happiness spreading to the guests, and yet you feel so distant. You never feel free of Feyd's gaze, and every time you look in his direction, he seems to be looking back at you. 

After the feast, you are a bundle of nerves and too tired to care. After changing into your nightgown and dismissing your ladies-in-waiting, you fall into a dreamless sleep. A sudden knock on the door awakens you. For a few seconds you are confused as to why you are not at home. The knock doesn't sound familiar, but you open the door hesitantly. Na Baron stands in the doorway.

"I couldn't go to sleep without talking to you," he says, and there is something in the tone of his voice that both entices and annoys you. Again his eyes wonder at your body and you feel self-conscious about not being properly dressed. 

"May I ask..." and before you can answer his is already in your room. He walks around your room and sees Irulan's gift on the table.

"You seem more ready than I expected," he says with a small laugh. 

"Are you?" you ask, unable to push the thought of his rumored concubines from your mind. "You know we will both be in trouble if anyone sees you, Na Baron.“

"I don't think so. No one saw me and I am sure you want to tell someone," he replies, taking a few steps in your direction and stopping close to you. You try to remember your training and yet you feel this ridiculous longing to touch him. A man you don't know at all, a man whose cruelty you've read about and been told to see as part of the greater Bene Gesserit plan. 

"I beg you to leave," you say, but he doesn't seem convinced: his hand goes to your jaw, slides down and then suddenly the soft touch turns into a grip around your neck, his lips meet yours with undeniable force, his tongue finds its way into your mouth and devours it, his other hand presses you against him and you feel his excitement: Before you can collect yourself, a small moan escapes your lips. You look into his eyes again and see a glint of victory in them. 

"As you wish, my princess. Let's be decent and civilized," he says, obviously satisfied with his conquest, and leaves your room without a sound. As he vanishes into the night, you are left with thoughts of what kind of game you have begun to play.

#feyd rautha #feyd smut #feyd x reader #feyd x you #feyd rautha imagine #feyd imagine #smut #shameless smut #arranged marriage #dune part ii #dune movie #cannon divergence

[that-nerd-who-writes-fanfiction]

AU but instead of Merlin banishing Kilgharrah, he turns him into a cat that looks and behaves like a disagreeable old man.

Kilgharrah spends a while sulking in Merlin’s room but then decides he might as well enjoy the freedom he has now.

And he’s an absolute menace.

He knocks things over, he scratches nobles, he’s surprisingly nice to Geoffrey in the library but he never let anyone pet him.

It takes weeks of matted fur for him to let Merlin brush him, even then Merlin has to use dragon speech to stop Kilgharrah biting him.

After he finds out that Uther is allergic to cats, he spends a good amount of his time getting cat hair all over Uther’s chambers and clothes.

He leaves Arthur dead mice after reading that cats leave gifts if they think their owner is a bad hunter and unable to provide.

He doesn’t like Gaius, so he sits on his chair before council meetings. Everyone is too afraid to move him.

But he’s also nice(?) to servants and anyone who isn’t cruel about magic. Which is why he gets along with Geoffrey.

He sees a noble he knows to be anti-magic, especially during the purge, yelling at a servant and jumps in, scratching the noble so they leave and then meowing at the servant before leaving.

If anyone else has any ideas for this, please share. I wanna hear them.

(How I imagine Kilgharrah as a cat below the split)

#bbc merlin #kilgharrah #canon divergent au #merlin bbc #merlin #I normally hate Kilgharrah but this was too funny #maine coon #cats #cannon divergence #fic ideas #merlin fic #uther pendragon #fuck uther #gaius merlin #geoffrey of monmouth #arthur pendragon #merlin emrys #i’m bad at tagging

[shu-box-puns]

You wanna be one of them (Tsu’tey x Reader) Act 5

Previous chapter <- Act 5 -> Next Chapter 

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

Word Count: 9071

Summary: Recovery

Reader uses they/them pronouns.

Tsu’tey was a terrible patient.

He was stubborn, and rude, and jittery, and most of the time, half delirious with pain. Then in the next heartbeat, he’d be back to his crabby, grumpy old self. Deflecting your attempts to feed him and dishing out insults to anyone who looked at him with sympathy. He’d shrug off all attempts at comfort, snapping some half assed excuse about him being a hunter and a grown ass man.

You made sure to baby him just to piss him off. Since it was hilarious and he would only sometimes snapback. The rest of the time - when he was particularly tired - he was fucking adorable. Literally melting into your touch when you tended to him. Making stupid pouting faces when you pulled away, to which you immediately felt compelled to pull him close again and spoil the shit out of him.

If he wasn’t so out of it, you would’ve suspected that he was taking advantage of your weak spot for him.

And the rest of the time, he was an infuriating little shit. 

He’d developed a terrible habit of wandering off throughout the day. Just silently slipping away when your back was turned. And the funny thing was, you wouldn’t even notice until you found him roaming around the camp. 

It was literally like babysitting a child. 

He’d either be attempting to bribe the people into letting him help with chores, or you’d receive an exasperated comms call from Jake that he’d found his way back up to the compound. 

Everytime, you’d groan and dutifully go find him to drag him back to his designated sleeping mat.

Mo’at on the other hand, did not stand for his bullshit. 

She was firm in the face of Tsu’tey’s excuses. Lecturing him about the dangers of infection whilst dressing his wounds. Smacking him upside the head when she caught him trying to do physical work whilst recovering. And then she’d haul him back to his mat and order you to keep a better eye on him, with an expression that left no room for argument. 

It was exhausting work. 

But Mo’at also had her moments of softness.

 She’d look pissed the entire time, but when she noticed Tsu’tey was genuinely growing restless, her more motherly instincts would abruptly take the wheel. You could do nothing but stare as she wordlessly stormed up to your shared campfire one night, and without a greeting, promptly dumped a bag of beads into Tsu’tey’s lap. The Olo’eyktan got no chance to thank her for the beads or the fresh twine because she’d already turned on her heels and hurried off. 

Tsu’tey glanced at you in confusion, to which you could only shrug and go back to cooking dinner. 

It was a simple solution but effective, you realised when Tsu’tey’s fidgeting abruptly decreased in frequency. He stopped trying to insist on helping you with the food, and instead lost himself in rummaging through the bead pouch. 

Mo’at’s collection was extensive. 

The hand carved beads came in such a variety of colours and shapes and weights that you couldn’t fathom where they came from. And Tsu’tey instantly got swept up in his own personal projects for a while, mindlessly creating jewellery that seemed to disappear every time they were finished.

<”Are you making a bracelet?”> You asked one evening, noticing that this particular piece was the matching version to a choker he wore before he became Olo’eyktan. 

Tsu’tey shook his head. <”You’ll see.”> And offered no further information on the piece. 

At least he kept you occupied with his antics. 

Which led you to now, preparing the evening meal whilst Tsu'tey dutifully weaved another jewellery piece on the other side of the fire. The flames made the beads in his braided hair shine, distracting you from your task of properly grilling the meat. You were so caught up in watching him that you almost missed when the alarm sounded.

It was subtle. A sharp whistle from the forest, that had you instinctively rising to your feet; dinner momentarily forgotten. Out of your peripheral, you saw a couple other hunters do the same, grabbing their bows and rising from their crouches. Your tail thrashed impatiently, glancing to the others who each waited with bated breath.

The next whistle was a single note, easily mistaken for a bird call. A confirmation of a threat. The call for backup.

Abruptly, the clan went silent.

You yanked your knife from its sheath, ears pinning back as the other hunters quickly started moving for the treeline. 

Across the fire, Tsu’tey was trying to get to his feet, but you were fast to put a stop to it. Eyes still on the trees, you pressed him back into his seat with a firm hand to his shoulder. <”Stay here.”> You ordered, to which he growled.

<”I am-”> <”Injured.”> You cut in sharply. <”Stay here or I’m gonna make Jake sit on you.”> The man in question had unlinked several hours ago to rest up, but you knew that if you radioed, he’d be back in minutes. 

Tsu’tey made to argue, but you had already caught the gaze of a scowling na’vi woman. She jutted her chin towards the forest, you nodded. On silent feet, she crept towards the trees and melted into the shadows with only the smallest ruffle of leaves.

Knife held at chest height, you followed. Your hand slipped from Tsu’tey’s shoulder as you kept moving; your footfalls light. Keeping low, you slipped between the tree trunks, ears flicking to and fro as you listened to the hunters at your back.

The woman from before held her hand out to still your movements, motioning with her other hand to the enemy. It was an unsuspecting squad of marines. All wearing exo packs and armed to the teeth. They trampled the foliage around them, heads on a swivel, but the na'vi hunters remained undetected. 

The hand blocking your path dropped as the woman readied her weapon, she motioned to the left. You nodded. You would go right and follow them as she and a couple others blocked off their escape. 

This time, you had no one to protect. The Clan had enough warriors left to easily keep the wounded safe. You could give into that underlying instinct, the one that urged you to defend your home, your people. 

This was exactly what you needed. An adrenaline boost. Something to kill. Something to focus on that wasn’t personal.

The marines tried to be stealthy. Tried to blend into the glowing plants only for their army attire to make them stand out more. For the lights to reflect off their guns and give them away. 

You didn’t feel bad as you stalked the closest one to you. 

He was oblivious to your slow movements. Three of his fast paced steps equated to one footfall of your own. You were on him in moments. There was a gap in the leaves. Enough to keep you concealed, whilst being wide enough for you to reach through.

You didn’t bother to stand. 

Shifting your weight, you thrust your hand through the opening, grabbed him by the collar of his army jacket and yanked him screaming into the foliage, where he collided with the poised tip of your knife. Feeling the weapon slip into his body with an audible pop and a hiss, you yanked upwards. Grimacing as his screams cut off.

The other marines yelled. Several swivelled to your hiding spot, but you were moving before they could open fire. Hands to the ground, you expertly knuckle-walked out of range. 

Your eyes fell to a second soldier. To his wide open back as he stood on the edge of the group, barking orders. Clearly the sergeant. You adjusted your knife into a more comfortable grip and went for the kill.

>_<

You washed off in a stream after dragging the bodies away from the camp with the rest of the hunters. Patting each other on the back for a job well done, you rinsed your knife before following them back to the Well of Souls.

The Omaticaya had established their camp around the Tree of Souls, whereas the other clans had pitched similar campsites in the surrounding area. How the Sky People had stumbled upon your camp first was odd. 

The clan was preparing breakfast when your little group broke out of the treeline. The sun peering out from behind the moon to signal a new day. 

You headed towards the fire you’d been sharing with Tsu’tey during eclipse, only to find him gone and his mat devoid of anyone. Groaning aloud to yourself, you diverted your attention to the other fires. Thankfully, a kind mother took pity on you and pointed you in the direction of a fire with four figures already tucked around it. 

Nodding your gratitude, you picked your way across the camp towards the group. Jake had returned to his avatar, and was helping Mo’at roast fresh fish over the flames. Whilst Neytiri and Tsu’tey were engaged in a venomous staring contest. The latter was pouting as you approached, perched on a log with enough space for you to plop down next to him. Jake nodded in acknowledgement as Neytiri sharpened her arrows.

Mo’at fixed you with an unblinking stare as you got comfortable. <”It is done?”> <”Yes Tsahik. No, injuries to the people.”> She hummed. 

<”You have done well.”> 

Internally preening at the praise, you flickered your attention from the cooking fish to Tsu’tey’s face. <”What crawled up your ass?”>

The look of pure confusion and disgust that crossed his face, abruptly banished the look that he’d sucked on a particularly sharp lemon.

Meanwhile, Mo’at let out a soft chuckle. She lifted the tip of her stick from the flames and jabbed lightly at Tsu’tey’s knee with the end. <”He attempted to follow.”> Tsu’tey glared at her, swatting at the stick which she was quick to retract and tap him on the head with instead. His ears pinned back at the unspoken reprimand. <”He only made it four steps before Neytiri caught him and dragged him back.”>

You laughed. <”I told you to stay put.”> <”I am no coward.”> He insisted, to which you playfully rolled your eyes. Then he turned to Neytiri who pretended not to sense his withered glare. <”I want my bow back.”> 

<”Where is your bow?”> Tsu’tey’s ear flickered in your direction, but he didn't respond, and instead kept chewing on his lip as his knees curled closer to his chest. 

It was Neytiri’s turn to snort as she pointed to the hanging vines of the Tree of Souls at her back. Your gaze followed the motion, climbing up the branches to find Tsu’tey’s bow tied to one of the higher limbs. It was expertly placed. Well out of reach and a tough climb for someone recovering from being shot. 

<”Why didn’t I think of that?”> You commented absently, to which Tsu’tey growled, shoved at your arm, forcing you off of your shared log. You laughed, watching the furious whip of his tail. <”Cranky bastard.”> 

<”Idiot.”> He fired back reflexively. 

<”Of course. Of course.”> You waved him off, dusting your ass off before going to sit next to Mo’at who moved over on her log to give you room. You turned your attention to Jake who had been watching the encounter with a small smile of amusement. “Any further developments with Selfridge?” 

The mischievous grin was swiftly wiped from Jake’s expression, instead replaced with the cold, calculating gaze of Toruk Makto. The look reminded you of a simpler time. Of a man in a wheelchair with nothing to lose and a one way ticket out of hell. 

Internally, you wondered if you’d changed as drastically as Jake. If Pandora had transformed you for the better by moulding you into one of her warriors, or healed some of the damage your past life had inflicted on you. Or maybe you were the same idiot from eleven months ago, who had signed a contract and your life away with a grin.

Jake’s summarised explanation of the plans drew you from your internal dilemma. It turned out that Max and Norm had taken over Hell’s Gate and were manning the mother compound until the na'vi tribes came to a collective agreement on what was to be done with the surviving humans. So far, the most popular solution was to make them pack up and send them back to where they came from.

The simple way in which he explained the procedure had your heart pounding. Jake spoke so matter-of-factly that you knew deep in your bones there would be no exceptions. The na’vi wanted their world back, and would stop at nothing to have it returned to Eywa for her to heal.

Your mind drifted to earth. To the rundown apartment you’d sold and the belongings you’d given to your family members so they could remember you, the rest quickly dropped off at charity shops or claimed by friends. You recalled the same boring routine, the longing for something more. The claustrophobic tightness of the cities and the bustle of life. The exhaustion it took to keep going. 

Pandora had been a one way ticket to a second chance. 

There was nothing left for you on earth, but it appeared you had thoroughly outstayed your welcome here. 

Deep down, you knew that you didn’t belong on Pandora. For all your training and time spent amongst the People, you were still a visitor. A demon masquerading in a scientifically generated body. Your five fingered hands were proof enough of that.

With the Avatar Programme discontinued permanently, there was no reason for you to stick around. The na'vi could heal you and pretend you were one of them, but you all knew that the moment the leaders finalised a deal with Selfridge, you and the rest of the human race would be shipped back to Earth where you belonged.

Jake leaned into your line of vision, blocking your fuzzy stare at the fire. His eyes searched your face, and you worked to school your expression into something more neutral. “Maybe you should unlink soon. It’s been a lot of hours.” He commented.

Although his concern was touching, there was a lot to get done. “I wouldn’t be able to sleep anyway. Might as well stick around for a bit.”

He frowned but didn’t push. You kept your head down, even as the conversation drifted to more domestic matters. And soon after, you stopped listening altogether. Your mind wandering elsewhere to the hum of the People and the sounds of the forest. 

>_<

Most of your time was spent in your avatar, absorbing the sights and sounds of Pandora with greedy interest, conscious that there was a time limit for how much longer you could stay.

You busied yourself helping the People recover from the war. Utilising your working body, you were appointed on patrols combing the forest for RDA survivors, and helped cook in the evenings. It was a simple way of life. A task that needed doing, that helped keep your mind and body occupied so you didn’t spiral. 

Currently, you were bent by the fire, mending a broken weapons belt, with Jake clumsily sewing beside you. The leather in your hands had been warped from age, the strong stitches already removed so you could reinforce the material with new fibres before reconnecting it all. 

Across from you, Jake was struggling to keep the stitches even and his bone needle threaded. He held the small object as one would hold something disgusting, with only his thumb and forefinger. You were finding his struggles and soft curses too amusing to correct his hand positioning. The garment he was mending could always be reused for scraps if he fucked it up too bad. 

Redirecting your attention to the belt, you bit back a grin as Jake let fly another series of strongly worded curses and threw up his hands in a huff. The garment in his lap flopped to the floor, the uneven stitches coming loose. Jake threw the bone needle (now unthreaded) down onto the heap in defeat, looking close to tears. 

“Not a fucking word.” He snarled, you ducked your head, pressing your chin to your chest to keep the obvious amusement from your expression. 

“I didn’t say shit.”

“I could hear you sniggering.”

You had no argument to defend yourself there, and were quickly saved when a shadow fell over you and blocked your light. Squinting up at the na’vi looming over you, you grinning at Tsu’tey’s arched eyebrows.

“Brother, come and help me.” Jake begged, showing the Olo'eyktan his bone needle and the mess of stitching in his lap. Tsu’tey glanced judgmentally from the marine to his poor craftsmanship.

“Perhaps we should keep you on guard duty or with the hunting parties.” Tsu’tey suggested bluntly. Jake nodded his agreement, offence be damned when he could be doing something a lot more successfully. “But they have already been assigned today.” Tsu'tey continued quickly, watching with glee as Jake visibly deflated. 

You grinned, returning to weaving the fibres into the belt. The shadow of Tsu’tey did not move, in fact, the Olo'eyktan decided he needed a closer inspection of your work to decide whether you were doing good enough as he dropped into a crouch at your side. You allowed his curiosity, but could feel yourself sweating as you fumbled in keeping the fibres straight and your stitches even. 

Gradually, Tsu’tey drew too close to your hands, to the point where you could barely see what you were doing. Momentarily forgetting yourself, you shoved at his forehead with your hand, pushing his face away so you could see. Tsu'tey froze, taken aback by the forward gesture, and you abruptly remembered your place.

He was the Olo’eyktan now, not some headstrong warrior trying to annoy you. 

Not one to show vulnerability or doubt however, you armoured your response with an insult. <“You’re so nosy.”> You found yourself muttering, before turning back to your work, ears flattened to your skull.

Tsu’tey remained motionless, struggling for a response. You wanted to curl up and die. <“Someone has to make sure you’re not making it worse.”> He eventually replied with, returning the jab with his own.

Forgetting yourself again, you grinned. <“Asshole.”>

He snapped his teeth playfully beside your ear instead of responding, to which you swatted at him again.

>_<

A choked off moan from across the fire had your ears flattening to your head and your thumb slipping on the tough shell of the nut you were attempting to deshell. Curling in on yourself, you tried in vain to keep your attention laser focused on the task at hand. You already had a serving leaf piled high with unshelled nuts to your left, and only a few remaining. 

A cut off gasp had your gaze snapping up. 

Jake and Neytiri were furiously making out across the fire. Their bioluminescent freckles vibrant as a hundred stars against the rising moon, tails flicking and eyes glowing in the weak firelight.

From experience over the last several months, but from this week in particular, you had discovered that the Omaticaya were very forward with their affections for one another. Many of the mated couples who had been reunited after the war had taken to getting reacquainted within full view of the rest of the clan, who simply continued on with their tasks for the day.

You tried not to care like everyone else, but old customs and standards were hard to shake. 

Jake let out a startled groan, Neytiri’s hand travelling south, and that was definitely the last straw.

“For fuck sake you two.” You growled, reminding the pair of your presence. True to form, Jake leapt back, cheeks ablaze and his chest heaving, whilst Neytiri fixed you with a withered glare. You scowled back. “If you’re going to be horny teens, go into the forest where I can’t see you.” You ordered, pointing to the glowing plants a few feet away.

“Jealous?” Jake taunted, leaning in once more to press a soft kiss to Neytiri’s lips before pulling away - much to her annoyance - and settling into a crouch. 

“Of Neytiri? Not a chance. You kiss weird.” You retorted without missing a beat, eyes returned to the task at hand. 

“And you can do better?”

“It’s kind of unfair to insinuate a challenge when I am at a clear disadvantage.” You argued, before Jake’s mind could drift too far away from the topic at hand. 

“I’d say the playing field is reasonably even.” Jake replied simply, making a point to look at Tsu’tey conversing with Mo’at across the way. Neytiri was grinning as you gave the pair the finger and went back to peeling the nuts for dinner. 

At least they kept off each other this time, as your little campsite lapsed back into silence, content to cuddle instead of eat one another. You appreciated the gesture. 

As you were finishing up, a hand landed on your shoulder, rubbing firmly as Tsu’tey sank into a crouch beside you. You greeted him with a grin, to which he pressed your thighs more closely together, his hand gliding down your arm to motion to the nut you were failing to peel. With your thumbs aching, you handed it over easily before taking up the stirring stick to check on the meat cooking over the flames. You pointedly ignored Jake’s grin.

>_<

The day arranged for the first major meeting with Max and Norm finally came with dawn dragging its heels. Thanks to Jake’s insistence, you managed to link quickly enough to see the party off.

If all went well, they would return within the day in time for dinner. If not, Jake would keep you updated later that night. 

The trio were set to ride to the compound on pa’li to finalise the date for the evacuation, a meeting you were internally grateful to be missing out on. An easy excuse and a small mercy, since you weren’t leaping at the idea of going back to Hell’s Gate any time soon.

The question regarding what would happen to your avatar afterwards, still plagued your subconsciousness, but you pushed it down as you approached the party readying their pa’li. Your three friends among their numbers as they fastened weapons to their bodies and checked their supplies. 

One of the warriors accompanying the group had Norm’s avatar strapped to his pa’li. The body had taken a while to heal from the injuries it had sustained, but under Mo’at’s methodical care, was more than ready to return to its driver.

Tsu’tey was the first to notice you, motioning you over despite already being deep in conversation with Mo’at. Approaching slowly to give them time to finish up, you watched Mo’at nod to herself before patting Tsu’tey on the shoulder, her tone reassuring despite you not being able to make out her words.

As you drew within earshot, Mo’at pulled away. She nodded politely to you before disappearing back towards the Tree of Souls, her beads clicking together as she passed. 

Tsu’tey drew himself up to his full height, you straightened in kind, mirroring his uneasy expression as he inhaled a deep calming breath. Shit. Was all you could think, unused to such tension in his expression when usually he was calm and collected.

Tsu’tey turned to you. Your muscles tensed for a fight. Then he moved towards his pack, secured to the flank of his pa’li, and rummaged around for a moment. His ears perked as he found whatever he was looking for and turned back to you.

<“For you.”> He said simply, grabbing your hand and dropping a carved bead into your palm. You stilled, expression blank as you inspected the small, white object which symbolises so much within the culture of the na’vi. Tsu’tey remained silent as you brought the bead closer to your face to inspect it. 

It was gorgeous. The texture was smooth and even from the skill of talented hands. Whereas it had been painstakingly carved to fit snugly within one of your braids, a detailed carving of a roaring ikran decorating the exterior. You wanted to cry.

<“To commemorating your fallen companion.”> Tsu’tey explained to fill the silence. It was such a small gesture, but it meant more than words could hope to express. The other warriors had adorned their hair with new beads weeks ago to celebrate their success from the war and to mourn those that they had lost. <“I assumed you would be too busy to make it yourself. And judging by your skill with mending, it wouldn’t have turned out as you would want it.”>

You nodded along to his rambling, touched by the thought behind such a precious gift. A token worthy of symbolising the memory of your beloved ikran. 

<“Thank you.”> You breathed, he stopped talking. 

<“Do you not like it? I can make another.”> Tsu’tey hurriedly said, alarmed by the glossy sheen to your eyes. You shook your head, the bead clutched tightly to your chest.

<“It is beautiful.”> You reassured him. The tension in his body melted away at the confirmation. 

<“I am glad.”>

<“Will you help me put it in?”> You asked boldly, <“do you have time?”>

He grinned, gesturing for the bead which you handed over happily. <“Which braid?”> Tsu’tey asked, waiting patiently for you to blindly rake through your braids to find a shorter one near the front that wouldn’t let the bead get swallowed up by the rest of your hair. 

You offered it to him and Tsu’tey nodded, stepping closer to carefully fasten to bead into place at eye level. It stood out like a star in the sky against the raven black of the rest of your hair, the carved ikran displayed proudly for all to see. 

<“Tsu’tey we need to get moving.”> Jake prompted from the back of his pa’li as the rest of the warriors also mounted up. The chief gave them a dismissive wave to tell them he was coming but did not instantly pull away.

<“It suits you.”> He complimented, earning him a playful push.

<“Be safe.”> You replied, voice stern. <“I expect you to come back in one piece, or I’m going to kill you myself.”> You made a point to gland down to the fresh bandages covering his chest, lips pinched.

He laughed, his face lighting up with the force of it. <“Stay out of trouble.”> He ordered with no heat to it as he pulled you close, touching your foreheads together. You couldn’t find it in you to resist or care. It wasn’t a kiss or a tsaheylu, but it was perfect. And probably the most intimate you could allow. 

Wrapping your arms loosely around his waist, you pulled him closer by his hips, eyes closing with the firm press of your foreheads. He responded in kind, hands finding purchase on the small of your back. Internally, you revelled in the strength beneath your fingertips.

<“Come on.”> Neytiri called impatiently. <“You can do this later once we get back.”>

And just like that the illusion was shattered. Tsu’tey pulled away, his tone clipped as he replied sharply in na’vi, making Neytiri stick her tongue out. 

Mo’at drifted back over to reassure Tsu’tey that she had everything under control in his absence. Her eyes caught on the bead, and you were POSITIVE she smirked this time. Her gaze flickered to Tsu’tey, and something wordless passed between the Olo’eyktan and Tsahik before her attention returned to you. 

<”Come. There is much to do.”>

>_<

You spent the day helping out around camp and your night packing. Most of your personal touches to the link room had already been neatly packed away in your old bag and shoved under the unit when you found yourself staring blankly at the bag rather than being productive. You still needed to check the hallway and kitchen for traces of yourself. 

Jake rolled out of his link unit whilst you were making dinner. 

“I feel like we haven’t talked in ages.” Jake joked as he wheeled into the kitchen. He was glowing with the internal delight of a job well done, indicating things were starting to head in the right direction. You made a non-committal sound, already reaching for another portion of rations to put in the microwave for him.

“I saw you this morning.” You argued without turning.

It was Jake’s turn to hum in agreement, before the two of you allowed the hum of the small machine to fill the silence as he approached the table. It was littered with various reports, boring notes and half-finished documents that would never be submitted to HR. 

“How did it go?”

“They leave before the end of this moon cycle.” Jake replied easily. You nodded. Less than a month left then.

“He missed you today.” 

Your head snapped up to level him with a searching look at the random declaration. Jake was already smiling, apparently finding your reaction amusing. You both knew who he was referring to. 

“If Norm wanted to see me, he could literally call.” You deflected, motioning to the communicator mounted on the wall. 

Jake rolled his eyes before fixing you with a look that said it all. “Alright then. Tsu’tey missed you today. He was acting super crabby.”

You scoffed, “definitely sounds like him.”

“He was pouting a lot.” Jake added gleefully, not bothering to suppress his grin.

“What are you? My spy?”

“I have eyes.” “I’d expect avatar eyes to work better than that.”

Jake kissed his teeth and lent back in his chair. He let the silence sit for a moment, but you knew he wasn’t going to drop the subject that easily. “So when are you planning on making a move? Because at this rate-”

Your back straightened with an audible crack of your spine. 

Slowly, you turned to him in disbelief, lips drawn into a firm scowl. Such ideas - fantasies - had only been a figure of the mind, active when the nights were long and your mind wandered. You had never voiced your attraction to Tsu’tey out loud and had been careful to not give anything away in how you acted around him. Not only were the chances of your feelings being returned severely low, you knew it couldn’t work out. Between the whole avatar thing and your impending return to Earth, it wouldn’t be fair to pursue anything. 

Unlike Jake who had charged into his relationship and later mated with Neytiri with no regard for her future, you would not allow yourself to put Tsu’tey in such a position. 

“I’m not.”

Jake stilled. “You’re not?” The arrogance from before had entirely melted off of his face, replaced with confusion. “What, because he needs to ask you? Or it isn’t the right time?” You didn’t want to give him a response. Jake wheeled closer, eyes intense. “What’s stopping you?”

You almost laughed. “Because what’s the point? In a month, none of this will even matter.”

A beat of silence. “You’re planning on leave?” The utter betrayal in Jake’s tone made you do a double take.

No. You wanted to roar.

“Am I?” You asked, suddenly unsure. 

Jake was already shaking his head.

“But you said ALL humans, dimwitt.”

“It was implied you weren’t gonna be one of the ones leaving.”

You frowned. “Could’ve started with that.”

He chuckled sheepishly. “But it was obvious.” He argued. You’re one of them. You literally fought side by side with the rest of us. You’ve proven yourself.”

“Hey, I didn’t want to go,” you interjected, “I just assumed-” “Yeah well, clearly that’s where you went wrong.” He cut in sharply. Then checked his tone. His gaze was serious when he established eye contact again, and you knew in your bones that he wasn��t lying. “You’re an idiot.” He stated simply.

“Your point?”

He shook his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Did you seriously think you were going to get away that easily? Neytiri would have my ass if I even put you back on compound grounds, compared to the hell Tsu’tey would raise if you left. He’d be insufferable. God, even Mo’at would have some choice words to share if that happened.”

The sound of the microwave aggressively beeping halted the flow of conversation. Rising from the table, you took the steaming meal from the machine and placed it down on the table in front of your friend. “Bon appetit.” Turning back to the counter, you pulled down a second microwave meal and shoved that in to cook for several minutes.

“What I’m saying is-”

“Please stop talking.”

“You’re staying.” Jake pressed on with an edge of amusement in his tone. “You might as well get your finger out and start wooing him before he takes matters into his own hands.”

“He won’t.”

“Bit late for that.” Jake laughed. “But fuck around and find out.”

You did not like the sound of that. 

>_<

You relinked with no plan and one goal, to find yourself in your usual resting spot cradled between the roots of the Tree of Souls. As usual, your heightened senses in this world swept in like a wave, bringing with it the movements of the camp early in the morning and the sight of Tsu’tey bedded down not far from your side.

He looked peaceful in sleep, all the stress of his position swept away by dreams. Set aside like the ceremonial jewellery piled to the side of his mat. 

Your earlier intentions fizzle out in the face of his sleeping expression. Clearly, yesterday had been a long and tiring day, despite the bountiful success it had brought with it. 

Sitting up, your eyes caught on a lit fire not far from you with food already cooking, a small group of people chatting and poking the flames. 

Knowing you wouldn’t be able to fall back asleep and remain present, you decided it was time to get up and rose soundlessly to your feet. You were sheathing your hunting knife to the strap across your chest, when rustling behind you alerted your senses to someone getting up.

<“You’re back.”> Tsu’tey greeted, turning over to face you properly, sprawled out across his mat. 

<“Good morning to you too. Did the trip go alright?”>

He motioned with his hand as if to wave away the memories of the previous day. <“I’m sure Jake-Sully already told you everything?”>

You flushed, choosing to ignore the part of the evening that revolved heavily around your feelings for this man, instead of the political side of things. <“Bits and pieces.”>

Tsu’tey watched you from his spot on the ground, gaze hungrily drinking you in as you stretched the stiffness from your muscles. You were surprised to see the expression so obviously on his face. Perhaps it was because Jake had finally dragged you from the depths of denial to believe that you could have this. Could have him if you worked for it. 

“Jake?” Neytiri’s voice called from across the clearing, you turned, finding your friend struggling to hold up the man in question, his head lulling dangerously. Your mind immediately shot to the worst case scenario; to intruders in the compound. 

Tsu’tey sat up, ears flicking as he watched Neytiri struggle to keep Jake’s body upright. From what you could see, he was still in there, clutching at her as his legs gave in. Your heart pounded as you took an unconscious step closer. Jake’s eyes were rolling in his head, fingers weakening. Neytiri was still clutching him, fingers biting into his skin. 

At your back, Tsu’tey had also scrambled to his feel. 

<”What’s wrong?”> He called across the camp, taking off at a light jog towards the pair. 

You followed at a slower pace. Eyes pinned to Jake’s face, waiting for him to recover. With your own link working fine, and him being in the least glitchy one, you didn’t have a clue what was going on. You had never been a technical person. Even the video logs at the beginning of your stay on Pandora had been a challenge. 

All your musing was cut short at the sight of Jake going slack. 

All the strength melting out of him. 

Despite Neytiri’s best attempts, he slumped to the floor lifeless. If you hadn’t witnessed this particular phenomenon multiple times, you would’ve feared he was dead.  

Neytiri let out a panicked shout as she followed her mate down, cradling his motionless face.

Tsu’tey froze in place. Then spun on his heel and sprinted back to you. Somehow he managed to clock onto what was happening before you did. 

Your vision swam, but not from lack of air. 

One breath you were in the clearing, your legs stiffening up and your hands flying out in front of you to slow your fall, the next you were in the link unit, shoving open the lid and throwing yourself into the room.

“We’re okay!” Jake yelled from across the room. “It’s a power cut!” You sagged, the adrenaline spike ebbing away with the simple, non-threatening explanation. 

“Thank fuck.”

“Tell me about it.” Jake replied merrily, huffing as he hauled himself out of his unit and into his waiting wheelchair. You flopped back down into your own unit, willing your heart rate to slow as you stared at the ceiling. 

“We definitely just looked like idiots.” You breathed, realising what a scene the pair of you had caused. Jake winced, but didn’t argue otherwise.

“Are you familiar with the fuse box at all?” You continued, eager to get back and reassure the others that you were fine and not in any danger.

“Trudy kept the manual under the sink.” Jake returned easily. You sighed, it would have to do. 

>_<

The entire system was down, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was. And Jake was not helping. For someone who knew jackshit about technology, he sure had a lot of fucking opinions.

“I’m taking a break.” You finally yelled, throwing down the manual and scooting away from the box. You stormed into the kitchen, anything to get some distance from the idiot down the hall.

“You said that twenty minutes ago.”

“I need another.”

“Stop being a pussy and help me.”

“You haven’t done jack shit!”

“Because your stupid head keeps getting in the way!”

A loud knocking at the front of the compound, made your next retort die in your throat. Jake froze down the hall, still loitering beside the open fuse box. You slowly turned to the front door at your back, mind racing to the gun tucked under your unit. 

“No one should know we’re here.” You breathed.

“Norm and Max just know we’re near the Tree of Souls.”

Shit. 

“Jake, get my gun, it’s under my unit in a bag.” You ordered, not waiting for him to respond before moving for the exo pack mounted on the wall beside the kitchen. The sound of wheels grew fainter as Jake moved quickly. 

Another knock. Louder this time. More frantic. A sound more akin to claps of thunder than the polite thud of a fist. Overhead, a shadow swept across one of the windows, blocking out the sun. You breathed a sigh of relief as you recognised Neytiri’s concerned expression.

“Jake, your wife’s here to see you.” You yelled down the hall, satisfied when you heard a thump and a curse. Within seconds, Jake was back in the room. 

“She’s my mate!” He corrected sharply, you rolled your eyes as you handed him an exo pack.

“Same difference.” You assured him. “Now go talk to her. She’s probably worried sick.” You patted him on the shoulder as you passed, ducking back out into the hall, content to finish fixing the fuse now that he would be occupied for a while. 

Settling down before the fuse box once again, you snatched up the instruction manual as the front door opened and closed. Your gaze flickered from the poor quality diagrams to the monstrosity of technology before you. It looked identical. 

Oh, no wait, the one for the link room had blown. Figures. 

The door opened again. “Y/n get your ass out here. Tsu’tey is threatening to break in.” Jake yelled from the kitchen, sounding unbothered.

“Tell him I’m busy.” You yelled back, reaching for the screwdriver. The door closed again, there were hushed voices, steadily picking up in volume, but you focused on the task at hand.

This time the door slammed into the wall with the force of it being opened. The alarms overhead blaring into life as Pandora air flooded into the compound. You jumped, struggling to get your feet under you.

<“TSU’TEY NO-!”> Neytiri bellowed from the kitchen, before she was swiftly cut off by the door being slammed shut on her. 

Whipping round, you found the man in question crouched in your kitchen with his bow in hand - Neytiri must have deemed him healed then. Tsu’tey’s head was snapping to and fro as he stooped to avoid hitting his head on the ceiling lights. He was decked out in his ceremonial attire now, his bandages gone and the massive necklace in its place. He dwarfed the rest of the compound, even crouched as he was.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” You shrieked as one would scold their cat climbing the curtains. Tsu’tey’s head whipped in your direction, eyes raking over you. You glared back, jaw set as he observed your face. Ears rising and falling in a look of indecisiveness. 

You’d think, after the way he’d reacted to you the first time, you would be more cautious about outright yelling at him. Tsu’tey could kill you with half a thought. He knew it. You knew it. And yet, it was as if nothing had changed. You did not fear him.

Tsu’tey proved you right by letting loose a deep breath, ears flattening to his skull. <“You’re okay.”> He said it with such relief that you half expected tears. 

With heavy footsteps that made the floorboards creak ominously under his weight, he approached. You were speechless. He bent low as he approached the hallway, ears flattening as he realised he would not be able to follow you in, his shoulders too broad for the doorway, he barely fit into the main room as it was, his tail dangerously close to sweeping everything off of the table to his right. <“I am glad.”> He continued, sounding like he genuinely meant it as he set his bow down aside and tried to reach down the hallway for you. 

His hand only just reached you, fingers easily the size of your foot brushing at your calf. The contact snapped you back to the present. 

Scrambling to your feet, you raced out of the hallway to check on him. Tsu’tey reared back at the sudden speed, going as far as to shuffle back as you erupted through the doorway. 

<“ME? WHAT ABOUT YOU?”> You yelled back, making him jump and his ears flatten. He looked like a scolded child, eyes wide in the face of your frantic outburst. <“Are you in pain?”> You bulldozed on before he could respond, concern causing your voice to rise. You reached for his forehead with the back of your hand, leaning forward to listen to his chest. <“How’s your breathing? Any lightheadedness or dizzy spells?”>

<“I am fine-”>

<“You should not be able to breathe this air.”> You mumbled to yourself, taking his hand to check his pulse, which seemed to be normal.

<“I feel fine-”> He broke off as you lent up to check his pupils, hands on either side of his temple, your gaze stern. He blinked at you owlishly, golden eyes burning with something you could not place, but he let you examine him with no further fuss.

Deeming him okay, you relented. <“I swear to God Tsu’tey, if you pass out in here I’m not gonna be able to drag your ass out with the link unit down.”>

He visibly shook himself, and replied sincerely. <“I promise I’ll leave if it starts getting hard to breathe.”> He reassured you, helping to calm your pounding pulse. 

You nodded reluctantly. <“You’re an idiot.”> Tsu’tey shrugged, which suggested he knew and didn’t care. 

<“I was worried.”> 

Your stomach dropped as you realised you hadn’t sent a message down to the clan to tell them what had happened. No wonder Neytiri had almost smashed the door in. 

<“The fuse blew.”> You explained as you turned away to continue fiddling with the fuse box. It felt natural to turn your back to him. To know that he wouldn’t strike out at you whilst you showed such blatant trust. 

Tsu’tey hummed at the simple explanation despite not having any idea what a fuse was. Choosing instead to stay quiet as you worked, eyes flickering around the room, checking the windows and craning his neck to peer down the corridor to the link room. Not that you were paying attention to what he was doing. Nope, not at all. 

With a final tightening of the screwdriver, the blown fuse was replaced. You held your breath as you closed the metal casing, latching it shut. Rising to your feet, you dipped into the link room to switch on the main generators, letting out a triumphant whoop when the units roared to life, their electronic screens lighting up with the start up logo. You were definitely going to rub this in Jake’s face. 

Crossing back into the kitchen with the intention of doing just that, you went straight for the exopacks. Tsu’tey watched you with an amused expression, the corner of his lips quirking up in a private smile. 

<“What?”> You asked, pulling the mask over your face and latching it at the nape of your neck with a sharp snap. 

He hummed, licking his lips. <“You’re so small like this.”> He teased lightly. You gave him the finger, and turned your back to continue securing the exopack. <“But still fierce. I thought you’d bite my head off for a minute there.”> Your hand stilled on the mask. 

His words from the other night played in the back of your mind. Replaying the way he’d held your gaze and seemed to mean it when he told you that he saw you. That he accepted your sky person body as much as your avatar. 

<”I’ve got to keep you on your toes somehow.”> 

He hummed. <”An attractive quality indeed.”> Tsu’tey admitted, easily as if this wasn’t earth shattering news to you. 

And how the fuck were you supposed to respond to that?

<“Is that a bad thing?”>

<“No.”> And you knew he meant it. He licked his lips and shuffled his stance, his knees dropping to the floor so he was no longer balanced on the balls of his feet. <“Can I touch you?”> Your hands fumbled in swinging the pack onto your back, wondering where exactly that question had come from.

<“I just need to gloat at Jake for a moment, then I can link up.”> You assured him, feeling your stomach clench as he shook his head. 

<“I meant like this.”>

You glanced down at your ratty, RDA issued shirt and tracksuits, feeling conscious of the last time you’d had a shower. With your days packed to bursting whilst amongst the People, there was little time for you to give this body some much needed TLC.

<“Are you sure?”>

<“Should I not be?”> He asked, genuinely curious. 

<“I think I recall you referring to me as a ‘demon’ the first time we met.”> You returned easily, hoping to steer the conversation towards safer territory. 

Tsu’tey grinned at the memory but didn’t let it slide. <“That was before we got to know each other.”> He corrected, <“and I am certain you have called me much worse. Multiple times.”>

<“You would tell me though, if you don’t like it. Right?”> He nodded but you kept rambling. <“Like if you dislike how my skin feels, or think I’m too small to hold, feel free to just put me back-”>

<“Y/n.”> There was no room for argument in his tone, and you knew from his face that he’d already made up his mind. <”I see you.”> He promised. And you deeply prayed it wouldn’t be broken if he was truly being honest.

<“Okay.”> You breathed, collecting yourself. 

Despite knowing Neytiri and Jake wouldn’t barge in unannounced, you glanced at the door before you managed to pull yourself back together. Slowly, you removed the mask and pack, setting them back down on the table, a slight shake in your hands. 

<“Ugh, please be gentle.”> You rambled as you approached. <“This body isn’t as durable as my avatar. I will break-”> 

<“You think too much.”> Tsu’tey chuckled, grinning as your hand wrapped around two of his fingers. Slowly, carefully, he used that contact to pull you closer to him so that his shadow fully eclipsed you. Dumbly, you stared up at him, mouth going dry at his sheer size.

Tsu’tey’s expression was open and thoughtful as he brought his other hand down to feel your hair. You smiled at the barely there graze of his large fingers, encouraging him with a nod when he glanced back to your face for confirmation. He gradually grew more confident, experimentally touching your hair, tracing the rounded tips of your ears with the cute prick of his own. His tail was swaying behind him, thumping against the back wall in the tight space, but he didn’t seem to care. Those burning, golden eyes traced your features, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips as his hand slid to cup your cheek. You were completely dwarfed by him. His palm spanning from your chin to your forehead. You couldn’t quite stop yourself from pressing into his touch.

<”I prefer you without the mask.”> He mumbled quietly, his thumb roughly slid up the slope of your nose, probably taking into account the difference in structure from his own. You pulled away from the rough treatment, the calloused pad of the digit pulling at your skin. He laughed lightly, pulling away. <”You’re much easier to read without it.”>

He withdrew his hand, ears fanning wide as he looked you up and down, silently calculating some untold equation. <”Can I hold you?”> <”Hold me?”> He seemed to flounder for the right word, tail swaying in anxiety. Hesitantly, he moved his hands to your waist, fingers overlapping as he mimed what he wanted. He did not lift you from the floor, not without your permission. 

<”You want to pick me up?”> <”Yes!”> He replied instantly, before adding more sheepishly, <”this position is hurting my back.”> You laughed despite yourself. <”You can lift me.”> You assured him, reaching down to grasp his arm guard as his grip tightened. He must have anticipated you’d weigh more than you did, because the initial lift almost threw you up into the roof. You shrieked, holding on tight as Tsu’tey swore softly and swiftly gathered you to him. <”I am sorry.”> He apologised frantically, fingers flexing as if he didn’t know whether to let go or keep a hold of you. <”You’re fine.”> 

<”I am. But you are not!">

<"No. As in you didn't do anything wrong.">

<"You are certain?”>

<”Dude, you need to take a breath.”> His tail flicked menacingly, but he did as instructed. 

Whilst he collected himself, you took it upon yourself to get more comfortable in his lap by straddling one of his thick thighs. He relaxed at the motion, leaning himself back against the wall of the compound and tilting his legs so that you were leaning more securely against his stomach. The hands around your waist loosened their hold, instead slipping down to gently cup your thighs, ensuring that you remained secure. 

<“This is okay?”> He asked, drawing your attention back to his face. The way he was looking at you had you speechless. It was reassuring, to know that although you were significantly smaller and alien to him, he could still look at you like that. 

You had to drop his gaze, as you nodded. 

In truth, this was heaven. After months of little to no physical contact, in and outside of the link, the small touches were sending your mind into a tailspin. Your skin lit up everywhere he touched you, making your ears burning beneath your hair. If Tsu’tey noticed he didn’t comment. 

His skin was cool compared to your own, you realised. Almost leather-like in texture, with a thickness you knew from experience acted like armour against some of Pandora’s weaker threats. Absently, you traced one of his stripes, marvelling at its size in comparison to your finger. Mindlessly, watching it stretch and contract with every breath.

You paused as the skin under your palms grew rougher than the rest of him. You peered closer, noting with a swallow that you had found the scar tissue of the bullet wounds from weeks ago. They had healed up nicely, with only a slight dusting of red to make them obvious compared to the rest of his complexion.

He said your name to capture your attention, a hand cupping the side of your face to divert your attention away from his chest. <“This is okay?"> He repeated, eyes searching your own with a hint of concern. 

You nodded again before finally managing to unstick your tongue from the room of your mouth. <“Yes. Perfect. You’re perfect.”> You breathed, before tensing up as you realised your wording. <“Fuck. I mean.”>

<“I believe you to be perfect too.”> Tsu’tey promised, the honesty clear as the glowing freckles on his cheeks. Your heart skipped in your chest, taken off guard by such sweet words, especially from Tsu’tey of all people. 

You laughed. <“When did you learn to be sweet?”> Carefully, you manoeuvred yourself so you were eyelevel with him, Tsu’tey’s grip on your waist helping to steady you as you leaned in. He happily accepted the press of your foreheads, his eyes slipping closed as he huffed at the sensation, one of his thumbs rubbing circles into your hip. 

Thanks to the size difference, for you it was more of a full face squished against his forehead, but it was still perfect.

Previous chapter <- Act 5 -> Next Chapter

#tsu'tey x reader #Tsu'tey #cannon divergent #gender neutral reader #size difference #no smut

[random-writer-4884]

Not A Robot (Tony Stark X Stephen Strange)

Not A Robot

Tony Stark x Stephen Strange

Description: After the battle against Thanos, Tony Stark started avoiding Dr. Strange. The Magician would try for months until eventually, he gives up. However, when Iron Man shows up in a battle without a word spoken, Stephen follows him back to his house

Warnings: None

AO3 Link

Stephen Strange was a doctor, a damn good doctor, and he would remind everyone that while he was not practicing he was still a doctor. One thing he could never seem to remember, however, was his lack of bedside manor. After Thanos had been defeated, Tony had barely been seen. Any time the magician had gone to visit Tony, FRIDAY had merely dismissed him with a ‘Tony is not in the building’ and ‘I am not permitted to tell you Tony’s location’. This made Stephen upset, but he merely left each time.

After one month of no contact, Stephen stopped leaving voice mails.

After two months of no contact, Stephen stopped calling.

After three months of no contact, Stephen’s texts became shortened.

After four months?

Well, Stephen stopped texting.

After six months?

Stephen stopped portaling to Tony’s house all together.

In a year? Well, when Stephen talked to Tony again, it wasn’t under ideal circumstances. 

Another invasion. Stephen would say that he and the hero’s helping him had it under control. Apparently Tony Stark didn’t think that that was the case. 

The Ironman armor came flying in, in all its red and gold glory. Shooting and flying with precision. The battle finished quickly, and Ironman hadn’t said a word since he arrived. Stephen called out to Tony, but was met with only silence. At the end of the battle the suit nodded once in Stephen’s general direction before shooting towards the sky and away from the remnants of the battle.

Mumbling under his breath, Stephen and his cloak went on an immediate chase. Every time the armor sped up, Stephen portaled closer. He yelled at Tony to stop and talk to him and was only met with silence and an increase of repulser speed. This continued for a while, Stephen guessed a minimum of 30 minutes, before the suit slowed down at the Stark residence.

As the suit came to a landing, Strange followed suit allowing the cloak to float off of his shoulders. 

“Leave.” Said the suit, though it wasn’t Tony's voice.

“God Damn it Tony, you’ve refused to talk to me for months! I spent so long trying to find you and you’ve straight up ignored me!” Strange reached forward and grabbed the shoulder of the suit. “For Fucks sake, you’ve barely talked to me in technically over 5 years! You’ve made every effort to not talk to me since Thanos and I don’t know why! So just fucking tell me and I can leave you alone!” 

Slowly the suit turned to him and spoke, this time in Tony’s now raspy voice “Because no one wants to talk to a machine, Strange.” Both men were silent for a moment at what Tony said.

“Tony, you aren't a machine. A man in a glorified suit of armor? Sure. A machine? No.” Strange’s face was full of confusion as he spoke. As he finished, The suit began to peel back, nanotech leaving its station and revealing Tony.  

Stephen tried to hide his shock at the changes in the man in front of him. His right arm was entirely gone, replaced by machinery. Half of his face was deeply scarred. Tony’s eyes were sad, and looked filled with grief. “Morgan is scared of me. She refuses to be in the same room as me unless I have my face coated in makeup or am in my armor.”

Tony paused for a moment, taking a deep breath “Pepper is filing for divorce since Morgan won’t go near me. She says that it’s easier this way and I can’t keep fighting her. No one wants a machine. ‘Tony Stark has no heart’ as the saying went.” He dramatically flared his right hand for his final sentence, his mechanical hand remaining unmoving at his side.

Taking a moment to take in what was said, Stephen stepped forward and took Tony’s mechanical hand. With one hand he held it by the palm, and the other he trailed along the intricate metal. It moved almost exactly like flesh and blood, a marvel in prosthetic technology. “I think it's beautiful.” He whispered. “Both the mechanics and you.”

Tony didn’t say anything, only watching Stephen’s hands trail along the metal arm. “I’m sorry that Pepper refuses to see that, and that Morgan is too young to understand that appearances mean nothing.” Tony still kept his eyes on Strange’s hands, watching their slow, shaking movements. 

Avoiding himself for a moment, Tony noticed the yellow gloves the Doctor wore. “Strange, why do you wear those gloves?”

“Same reason you’re hiding from the world. My hand’s aren’t ‘pretty’ like the world expects of a doctor.” Carefully, he let go of Tony’s mechanical hand, and carefully pulled the gloves off of his hands. Something he hadn’t done in front of another in a while. 

This time, Tony reached out and took hold of Stephen’s hands. Stephen flinched at the contact, and closed his eyes at the strange and slightly painful feeling of his hands being touched. Tony used his flesh hand to run his fingers along the scarring that lined the doctor's skin, a discolored pink. “How?” was all Tony said almost mesmerized by the lines.

“I was an arrogant asshole who got in a car wreck and lost the one thing that let me be so cruel. My hands. I underwent 8 different treatments, spending all of my money and pushing away the one person who still cared about me. After that I found the ancient one and learned the mystic arts…” he paused for a moment “blah blah blah, all that boring reform-ity bullshit people love to gloat about.” 

Tony began to laugh a little bit, leaving Stephen to smile quietly. “All of our scars are different Tony. I know they’re painful, emotionally and perhaps even physically. You need to remember though, your scars are proof that you survived.”  He let his laughter die down and smiled.

“Now!” started Stephen “Lets get you inside, and I’ll let you in on a little secret!” Tony perked up at that.

“The magic man has a secret? I wonder what it could be!” He teased, letting Stephen take his hand again and begin leading him into the house.

“Well, I make a mean batch of cookies. My sister loved them! She would bug me almost every day asking for a new batch of cookies!” The two of them laughed at the story as they walked inside, and soon after cookies could be smelt baking in the oven.

#ironstrange #tony stark #anthony edward stark #dr stephen strange #tony stark x stephen strange #stephen strange #dr strange #doctor strange #iron man #hurt/comfort #post endgame #cannon divergent #tony survived endgame #fanfic #fanfiction #i've been sick a lot #i'm gonna try to write more #oneshot #disabled tony stark

[kaiyaamin]

Eric Coulter head cannons

You and Eric’s relationship would be private with occasional kisses or he would hold your hand under the table or loosely around your chair.

He would be more of an asshole just to show everyone just because he's dating you doesn't mean he went soft. (but we all know he went a little soft😉).

THIS MAN WILL GET JEALOUS OVER ANYTHING AND EVERYTHING.

He would glare at anyone if they were doing bad or if a guy was flirting with you, Eric just comes and wraps his arms around you and kisses your neck or just fights the guy.

Training together and by that I mean just you sitting on top of him while he does pushups and getting a kiss for each one

He would totally have a weird workout schedule. Like you would wake up at 2 in the morning just to see Eric doing pushups. He looks at you. You look at him. And he continues. You go back to dreaming about how hot he was doing those pushups.😍

Eric would definitely be the type to have pet names for you like ‘princess’, ‘babe’, or ‘sweetheart’.

Eric is the kind of guy who is an asshole to everyone and you would never think he has a lover, but probably has the sweetest girlfriend in the whole faction.

#eric coulter imagine #eric coulter oneshots #eric coulter imagines #eric coulter x reader #eric coulter fanfiction #eric coulter #eric coulter head cannons #eric divergent #divergent #dauntless #eric coulter x y/n #eric coulter x oc

[hesthermay]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄

PAIRING: bucky barnes x f!reader

SUMMARY: bucky barnes and the domesticity he deserves.

WORD COUNT: 1.1k

RATING + WARNINGS: general audiences, domestic themes, fluff. use of she/her, more fluff, use of y/n, more fluff. in my head reader works outside lolzies

NOTES: marvel!? again!? it never ended!! just switched to something else for a bit but hesthermay will always be a multifandom blog! i quite literally am attached to too many things for it to just be one anymore lmao. anyways!! this is apart of the lady may universe, all works will be labelled as such but remember they do not need to be read in any order or together at all! they can be read as standalone stories because they are all apart of a collection!!

MARVEL MASTERLIST LADY MAY UNIVERSE

The sun had just finished setting, the dark sky staring back at him as he stood in front of the kitchen window. 

Bucky Barnes wiped his flesh hand on his jeans before reaching up to readjust the phone wedged between his cheek and shoulder before it could fall. His other remained submerged in the soapy dishwater, metal fingers clutching the wine glass more delicately than his past self ever thought he could as he secured the device. “No, Steve—if you need me, I can come back.” 

The blonde man shot him down immediately, insisting that it would only be a waste. Bucky sighed deeply and quietly, knowing his friend was as stubborn as they came.. “Alright, punk; if you say so.” 

Truth be told, he did not want to go back just yet. As tired as he’d gotten over the years, the fight most likely wouldn’t ever leave James Buchanan Barnes’ life and that was just something he was going to have to accept. But when he’s here, in the tiny town in the middle of nowhere that was his very slice of paradise, there was no fighting. Only hard work and long days, warm evenings and calm nights, and loud laughter and dinners shared between two. 

The life that Y/N L/N had given him was not one he had predicted, but one he would never take for granted. It was…all he could possibly want. If the world were to end tomorrow, he would spend his last moments with his lips on hers. 

A tail hitting against his calf was what caught his attention and momentarily pulled him away from the conversation, glancing down at the plump dog stood next to him. Her eyes were trained on the doorway of the kitchen and the brunette knew exactly what she’d picked up on, a grin growing on his face as the last dish was dried and put away. 

“Steve, I gotta go, Y/N/N just got home…okay, okay—I’ll tell her,” he chuckled as his metal hand swiped a rag over the counter quickly.

“Tell who what?” A voice piped up from behind him and the cloth was soon abandoned as he whirled around. There she was, standing in the doorway dressed for work and looking like it’d been a long day of it, while still radiating the kind of beauty he swore he’d never get tired of.

Bucky’s grin grew into a smile impossibly fast for a man who used to be a shell, a weapon, but that wasn’t unusual for him these days. “Ah, speak of the devil and she shall appear,” he remarked, and was met with an eye roll from his love and a laugh from his friend, before pulling the phone away from his ear. 

With one click, Steve Rogers was put on speaker phone and thrown under the bus. “Stevie says you owe him a dinner from when he kicked your ass in beer pong.” 

“I did not say that!” 

Y/N’s laugh echoed around the kitchen and filled Bucky’s chest with joy. “Oh, well quit your complaining and get your ass down here then!” She called out as she made her way to the fridge, boots thumping against the floor. “And last I recall, there was no ass kicking. You barely beat me, Rogers.” 

Steve and Y/N got along great, and it had become obvious to Bucky very quickly that they acted just like siblings. Their dynamic mimicked that of an older brother and younger sister, and if they didn’t look so different it’d be hard to tell they weren’t related. If they were, Bucky knew she’d give Steve a run for his money. 

“I’m all booked up for the next few weeks unfortunately,” the captain’s voice filtered through the speaker, “but I wouldn’t be opposed to a visit after I clear everything up.” 

“Oh,” Bucky drawled out as he leaned against the counter, arms and ankles crossed in the very name of ease, “I bet you wouldn’t. Grandma’s cooking’s pretty good, right?” 

Another laugh was accompanied by the popping of a beer bottle’s cap coming off and the clinging sound of it hitting the floor. “You’re damn right!” Leaning down to pick up the trash, Y/N continued to speak to Steve but the mechanic had already gained tunnel vision. 

His eyes were on her everywhere she went, observing the way her lips formed the words but not really hearing what they were, the way her eyes flitted over to him every few minutes because she was just as obsessed with him as he was her. 

The life that Y/N L/N had given him was not one he predicted, but one he would rather die than take for granted. It was his greatest gift.

The sound of his name broke his concentration and he was brought back to the present, tuning in to the conversation to hear Steve saying his goodbyes, throwing a ‘talk to ya later, Buck!’ at the end before he hung up. The phone was forgotten, remaining in the same spot with a black screen as the family of two now focused solely on one another. Y/N walked to the sink, beginning to wash her hands as she looked at the man before her with a semi serious face. “I sure am glad Steve let you have a break even with this long mission. I was starting to go a little crazy,” she chuckled. 

“I’ll always find a way back to you, lover girl,” he replied smoothly with that crooked grin as one hand reached out to swipe a thumb across her cheek, wiping off the smudge of dirt left over from her day at work. She beamed at him and he couldn’t help himself, couldn’t stop himself from pulling her in for a kiss; a kiss that conveyed how much he’d missed her, how long he’d waited for her, and just how much he loved her. 

When they broke apart she laughed ever so softly, eyes a little out of focus as she recovered from the display of affection. “You gonna let me set the table, Barnes?” 

“I suppose I could,” he feigned reluctance, waiting until the very last second to release his hold on her face, hands slowly pulling away from her face where they were gently resting. 

“Thank you for making dinner, by the way,” she threw over shoulder as she made her way into the next room with the plates and silverware stacked in her hands, and he followed her with the trays of food he had prepared for them. 

“Of course, doll,” he assured, knowing that if not for her he wouldn’t be able to make this meal nor would he have the motivation to learn how to. This domesticity, the routine of home life, was utter bliss. 

The life that Bucky Barnes had gained was not one he ever thought was possible for him, but it was one he would never let go of. It was all he needed, all he wanted, all he’d dreamt of. 

all works on this blog belong to hesthermay.tumblr.com: do not copy, repost onto other sites, or claim my work as your own.

#the witch: writes #—marvel #—lady may universe #—signed; barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes oneshot #james barnes x reader #james barnes x you #james barnes imagine #marvel au #avengers au #avengers x reader #cannon divergence #domestic!bucky #mechanic!bucky