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moonlesslights · 10 months

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Two Idiots in Love

Miguel O'Hara x Reader

Warnings: Sex, P in V, choking, breeding kink, innuendos, Miguel it's fucking hard to talk to.

A/N: Hope you enjoy this, I haven't sleep well for three days trying to get it done, but it's finally here. Love y'all xoxox

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Ok, but what about you becoming an Spider just about a year ago?

You are managing just fine.

Things got nasty for a while, that’s true. Your uncle died, your new responsibilities caught up on you, you almost die fighting some bad guys on your first months… And now you just try to eat three times a day (sometimes it doesn’t happen), pray to get more than six hours of sleep and do good in college.

But then, out of fucking nowhere, just when you were making peace with what your life was now and who you are, your identity, your place in this big ass world where you were completely alone to bear this double life… This giant prick with sullen face and cheeks the size of the moon comes into your life to tell you you’re not alone, everyone here has experienced the same or worse, stop being so dramatic.

So, in a second, your protagonist moment turns to you finding out there were thousands like you out there. And your whole life goes upside down.

Because now you don’t have to protect and look out only for your Earth, your city; but everyone else’s too. You have to travel to the most craziest worlds you could’ve ever imagine and fight horrible creatures you couldn’t even conceive its existence. And to make things even worst, Mr. Wide Hindquarters took an special hold of you to help him out with anything he would be ‘to busy’ to do. Like inform new recruits about their missions, filling out reports, doing research either respecting to what he occupied in the laboratory or to some universe yet to be explored… Whatever he needed, you would be called in to do it.

Some Spiders told you you were lucky, not many could work that close to Miguel, let alone being in charge of so many things without screwing something up and getting ‘their head ripped’. Even Lyla tells you that you’re something special, specially on the hard days, that’s why Miguel trusts you so much. After that you would just smile tiredly at her, whispering it was okay. Then Lyla would go face Miguel and demand him with a raised eyebrow to give you a break.

You manage for a few months, surrendering yourself to this strange routine. And your even more strange companion.

Every day you walk in to his space, every day he is already there. You turn a personal mission to arrive before he does. You never make it. The man apparently didn’t sleep and you aren’t waking the fuck up at 3:00am to prove a point or find out. So you let it be as another mystery to be solved.

“Good morning.” You wave your hand at him, making your presence known with that. Sometimes between a yawn, sometimes still cleaning the sleepiness off of your eyes.

“Good morning…” He always adds your last name to his greetings. It makes you feel like you are being scolded. Most of the time he is at the tables, working through the screens; if he’s not there, he’s at the lab, measuring substances with the help of crystal clear instruments.

Without looking at you, he points with his chin to the steaming coffee under the express machine. Through the weeks he has learned exactly how you like it. The first ones he made you were exactly like his: Awful. That couldn’t be drinkable. But you thought it was nice of him to always have hot coffee for you, so you didn’t say anything. But the faces you made at every sip were worth a thousand words.

Now, as you drink today’s, you cannot avoid thinking how cute that big stoic man must look every morning pouring the exact amount of sugar and cream you like into the cup. Moving the liquid with a tiny spoon until is all mixed.

He doesn’t talk much.

No more than orders and “Go home” followed by a “Good night”. You let him be for the first weeks. Not your business. But after the first month you knew you would go crazy if you continued this way of living.

You needed to talk to him. You needed to make things less awkward. He was your only human contact sometimes for entire days, and you cannot stand the fact of barely talking to him.

You don’t have idea how does the term “coworkers” serves on his Earth, but in yours, Human Relationships are encouraged to happen for the sake of teamwork.

With that very idea well tangled on your mind, one of those long days, you take a deep breath, imagine him naked (which isn’t difficult to be honest), stare deep into the space and say:

“Sohowhaveyoubeen?” Squeaking as fast as you can.

Miguel stops whatever the hell he is doing and turns his head to the right, side eyeing you with a raised eyebrow. You don’t even look at him, continuing to fill the document in front of you with the most unstable smile he could have seen in his entire life. Then, he turns around again, coming back to typing into one of the screens. You almost think he has completely ignored you until he answers in another fast and neutral line:

“I’m good.”

You give him an acknowledging nod, smiling softly and returning to your duties.

You had never wished so much to be victim of a lost bullet. Like right now. Like right fucking now. Please.

For one more week you took another personal mission: making a question a day.

“How was your day?”, “Did you have breakfast?”, “How was yesterday’s mission?”… It would be a good day if you got more than a monosyllable for answer. It was embarrassing, really. And Lyla looking at you with a grimace made it ten times worst.

After that, you just came in the eighth day and remained silent, focused in finishing all your work as soon as possible rather than trying to make your prick boss to talk to you. You felt bad, actually. Maybe he just doesn't like to talk, maybe you were making him uncomfortable, maybe... Maybe he's just an arse. Yeah, that is probably the right...

"Hm? Uh, what... What is this?" You look up from your tablet, facing the broad of his back walking to the desk at the other side of the room. You raise an eyebrow at the small cardboard box in front of you, the one that Miguel just left there.

"Food." He says as answering the very question to the origin of the universe.

"For me?" You tilt your head and he looks at you like you were stupid. You frown. How were you supposed to know that, when he barely even looks at you?!

"I did too much." He explains. "... So I brought you some. You can throw it away if you don't want it."

You look down at the box again, watching it as the weirdest of things, and cannot help the little smile that creeps up to your lips. You knew Miguel didn't eat at the HQ cafeteria, since he owns an apartment close from here, so this was completely homemade. Hm, you never thought he was into cooking.

"Why can't I give it to someone else if I don't like it?" You respond with an easy smile, almost teasing him.

"Throw it." He sentences without even looking back at you.

You side eye Lyla at your left, who winks at you. This is a whole ass victory. And you and the little hologram girl knew internally Miguel did not like the day you decided to stop trying to talk to him.

"Thank you." You finally murmur. "I really appreciate it."

"It's just leftovers..."

You nod, pursing your lips and… Still smiling. Fuck it. It was obvious he was going to dismiss it with something like that.

None of you says anything else for the rest of the day, but you make the choice to keep trying on the small talk every day and Miguel, apparently, started to mess up the amount of ingredients for his meals and brings leftovers almost daily.

You continue with this new routine for another couple of weeks.

With the time passing, you gain more and more confidence to talk to the big guy. Most of the times he doesn’t engage in the conversation, it is just you saying your thoughts out loud and telling him everything about your life at college, 'till the point he has a personal beef with some of your classmates. I mean, he doesn’t say it but he surely grunts under his breath every time you mention their name.

Gwen did asked you at some point if he really listened to you or if he just... Left you. You wondered the same for exactly... two hours.

"... And I handed him my essay, right? And he looks at me and says: 'So are you going to tell me who is helping you with these or am I going to find out myself?' So I obviously told him nobody was helping me, I just like doing them. And he freaking threatened me saying that if he founds out he's going to fail me. Like... He doesn't even listens. Agh, he hates me..."

"Is the same one who got angry because you were late to his lecture about himself and his recently published book?" That was a week ago. And he remembered.

You nod, sighing. Miguel clicks his tongue, shaking his head with disapproval.

He might not be talkative (at least for now) but he listens to you. You have no doubt left about that. He may not say a single word while you drop a hundred for minute, but he would come the next day asking "How was the test?" or would know you have classes with that professor and add to his daily good night a soft "Good luck tomorrow." You even start catching him lifting the left corner of his lips when you drop a bad joke about all the things you need to get done by the end of the day or about something you heard on your way there.

You noticed it when certain Spider came in to a meeting, a Spider two days ago you and Miguel had gossiped about because you were told something by your friends on Wednesday, Miguel heard some more on Thursday and with a final comment you put the pieces together on Friday, looking at him with a wide proud open mouth as he shook his head with a soft chuckle. Talking to the Spider in question Miguel would turn to you with the most neutral and blank expression and you would still fight to hide your smile at the memory of everything you found out during the week. No one ever noticed and you liked it. Miguel liked it. It was like a private joke only the two of you could share.

"But what would happen?" This was the part Miguel didn't like. "Like, how would you know I would fuck up something?"

"You cannot give Noir a kaleidoscope." He sentences, giving you another raised eyebrow.

You were in the middle of the daily session of Instructive and Informative questions, according to Lyla and you. Miguel prefers to call them Destructive and Irritating.

After today's mission you had taken a particular soft spot fo the black and white Spider, to the misfortune of your boss. So the whole session has been about the long shot of taking special gifts from your dimension to him.

"But why? Really, what's the worst that could happen if I just give him a tiny little kaleidoscope?"

"Ay, Dios, dame paciencia... You already gave him a rainbow slinky spring toy, why do you keep insisting on gifting him more stuff?"

He fix his gaze on you as you lower your eyes down to your lap, fidgeting with your fingers. "... He just looks happy when he sees color."

Miguel sighs, pressing the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger.

"I know, but every one of us needs to respect the natural order of our Earth. He shouldn't keep taking things with him that shouldn't be there, do you understand?"

"But..."

"No more 'but's'. I want those reports done by the end of the day." Miguel returns his eyes back to the screen in front of him, dismissing you just with that action. "Get to work instead of keep losing our time with this."

He hates the way you comply to his orders. Hates the way you leave the space beside him empty to go working at the other side of the room, where he can only see your back. He hates when you refuse him to see your face.

The human part in him hates the questioning sessions because they always end up with your heart too big for your own good, crushed a little bit more. The human part in him is what brings him closer to you after a few minutes, talking you through some trivial topics until he can convince you it is all not as bad a it seems, until you smile again when you insist it's okay, that you just needed a minute, that you understand. And he might o might not tell you can give Noir that fucking kaleidoscope if you want it so much.

But some deep and primal part in him whispers into his veins to walk up to you, take you by your jaw, forcing you to look up at him and order you you better not refuse your face to him one more single time again. That if he wishes to see your eyes, the curve of your nose or your lips, you better fucking show them to him... Every day. Every. Time. He. Wants. To.

He gets frustrated when he catches himself in the middle of those thoughts, of the drives. He has been able to control it magnificently 'till now. But he fears the day he won't.

For another while you enjoyed the 'leftovers' brought to you too. But it also came to happen the one day, they stopped being leftovers:

You yawn as you make your way to the exit of the lab, making sure your alarm for tomorrow is correctly scheduled, you can not afford another harsh look from your professors one more time. The building has fallen silent already; most of its ordinary inhabitants have already retired to their rooms or to their home worlds.

Miguel walks up to you from behind, watching you standing at the door. Neither of them managed to see even a ray of sun today. He didn't care, he had something much better to watch all day… But he can't help but sigh at the thought of taking it from you.

"Italian or Mexican?" You turn to look at him, barely catching what he said. Both of your brows furrow and he glares at you while adjusting the neck of his jacket on. "For tomorrow's lunch. You want me to bring Italian or Mexican?"

"Oh, uhm..." You widen your eyes, surprised by the consideration. Pursing your lips and squinting, you think about it for a second, but the only possible answer comes immediately after: "Mexican."

"Hm." He nods, fixing his eyes to the front again.

Both start walking now towards the exit of the building. You know you can open your portal to go back home now, but you refuse to do so. Miguel knows there's an exit on the other side of the lab that leads him to a closer path to his apartment, but he refuses to take it. Because you always take this one.

"It's getting chilly." You whisper, watching the first snowflakes of the season falling on the other side of the big windows in the lobby. Miguel hums in response. "I like it, though. The first month working with you I had to carry a fan with me everywhere. I am so sorry for the cost of the electricity bill back then."

Miguel tugs at one corner of his lips, but only that. You tilt your head, glaring at him for a second before you take two fast steps to put yourself in front of him. The poor man has to stick his feet to the floor to avoid knocking over you.

He frowns, confused, and you look up at him with those same eyes filled with determination you put on when you look at the cookies he always -purposely- leaves on top of the highest cupboard in his office. He could only describe it as the face of a master plan, because you would always come back with ideas to get them down without asking him for help. And he loved to play guess with what you would do this time.

"Smile for me." You ask as you were some kind of cameraman, and if he was confused before he's into a new level now.

"What?"

"Y'know..." You bring both of your index fingers to the opposite sides of your face and part your own lips into a simple smile, like showing him what he was supposed to do.

"I know what smiling is." He frowns. "Why do you want me to do it?"

You shrug. "I just... I would be really happy to see it."

Miguel's expression remains unfazed, but he prays to every God out there you can't listen how hard his heart jumped inside his chest when your words reached him.

He swallows. His eyes fix on you and he brings both of the corners of his mouth up, exposing bright teeth and two big fangs that brush on his lower lip in the most precious awkward smile you could have ever seen. His brows are drawn together and he looks like he's in pain, and you know that even if a fucking meteor crashed down in the city right now, you still wouldn't be able to look away.

You clear your throat and lament how his smile is gone as soon as it came. You brush your hand at the back at your neck, nervous, fucking ashamed of your imprudence. Miguel raises an eyebrow at your reaction.

"Thank you. That was nice of you." You smile, avoiding his eyes and solely focusing on the snow awaiting for you. "I'm sorry if it was unpleasant for you. I didn't mean..."

Your words get caught up in your throat when you suddenly feel the texture of fabric coming around your neck. You turn back to look at the front again only to find Miguel tugging his scarf on you, with his fingers making sure it hugged every part of your skin your sweater couldn't.

"Miguel, no. It's even colder here than on my Earth. You need this more than I do." You frown with a worried expression washing over your features.

"You'll come back tomorrow pretty early. And it's going to be cold." You could try and argue about you having your own scarfs to bring tomorrow with you, but his eyes tell you he is not asking.

"... Thank you."

Miguel laments the moment your turn around, laments the moment you don't look at him anymore. He is sure the smile from a minute ago hadn't been anywhere near one of his best, and yet your eyes shone with the light of all the moons he's seen in all of the Earths he has visited.

And as you do a little wave when you start walking away before entering your portal, Miguel waves back, slowly and with only two unsure swings of his wrist. It was enough to make you smile anyway. It was enough to keep him standing there even after you were long gone wondering what the hell he was doing.

When Miguel began to bring food made specially to share, you began to bring desserts from your Earth for him to try.

You both started having lunch together after you told him how tired you were of eating while standing. Don't get me wrong, when you first told him he 'offered' you to go eat at the cafeteria if you wanted it so much. But when he dismisses you for the second time the next day with a 15 minute break to go find somewhere to sit, you, instead, sit down reluctantly at the very center of his work space, just a few meters behind him.

Miguel has to do a fucking double take to make sure he is seeing right before turning around at you calmly crossing your legs on the floor and unboxing today's meal with abrupt and resigned movements.

"Could you be so kind as to explain to me what you are doing?" He tilts his head with amusement when you take the first bite of your food.

"Eating."

"Sitting on the floor?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Sitting on the floor." You nod.

"Care to explain why?" He crosses his arms, pursing his lips when you refuse to raise your eyes at him.

"... Because of you." You murmur, taking another unnecessarily aggressive bite.

"Elaborate, please."

You keep on looking down, chewing the morsel in your mouth. Miguel awaits for you with well known experienced patience. By now, he recognizes when you are mad at him or the world, he sees how you fight to keep calm inside of all of this mess, that's why he always tries to encourage you to talk out the things that bother you, because he's there, he can listen; because he likes the way you smile after you let it all out.

And maybe...

"I don't care about eat sitting comfortably at the cafeteria. I want to eat with you. So if you want to stay here be my fucking guest. I'm staying here too."

Because you were the only one who could throw a tantrum at Miguel O'Hara without flinching.

You have earned that right. You didn't know when, because you insist you don't throw tantrums at him; you're a college student, basically an adult, you don't do tantrums. And still...

"Fine, spoiled girl..." He sighs, walking to get his own little box from the table and then coming to close the space between the two with a few long steps. He sits down right beside you, imitating the way you're crossing your legs. "If you want to eat on the floor, we can eat on the floor."

"I'm not spoiled." You hiss, giving him a deadly side eye that puts on a soft, almost unnoticeable grin on his face. Lyla had made fun of him a few days ago about him spoiling you, but instead of getting on his nerves he took a liking for the nickname. And now you suffer the consequences of it all. "And we wouldn't be eating on the floor if you decided to go to the cafeteria for once."

"... I hate talking to people."

You sigh, nodding. That's exactly why you never push him to do anything of that sort.

"I know." You turn to look at him out of the corner of your eye, noticing how he keeps his head low while eating. "Hey" You call for his attention, smiling. He blinks up to you, tilting his head. "It's okay." Your shoulder drops to his arm. "I like being here. I'm not stuck with you, you're stuck with me."

That makes his eyes catch a little bit more of light.

"Thank you." He whispers.

You stare at him for a second more and he fights to put all of the mess inside his head, his feelings, into his tongue... But he can't. You continue eating, and he knows you would never hold a grudge on him for it, and he's so thankful for that, for you being able to understand the way his actions speak when his words can't. But he still aches at the thought of never being able to tell you everything he wants.

The next morning you walk in to find out a new cleared space beside the screens with an elegant glass table and two chairs. It surely looked expensive, like everything he does and has, but for you, it's just the little corner where you can leave that particular cake from your Earth he seems to like so much, and then go to the laboratory to see the cake you seemed to like so much.

After two more weeks enjoying the day-to-day in the usual things in your life, you and Miguel got to a mission which revealed as the true calmness before the storm.

The anomaly you had fought was stronger than expected, more aggressive, more letal. Everyone had run lucky at least two times to escape from its claws, but you can still remember their closeness, the screams, the sirens at the distance. It all almost ends up with another canonic event altered.

"There's always a first time." Jessica had told you when you finally finished off the anomaly. She was worried about you, and you can't blame her. You haven't even registered how bad you were trembling until it was all over.

"Is there going to be a last time?" You replied, looking up at her with big eyes. And Miguel, only a few meters behind you, still trying to give some last orders to every Spider there, felt his heart breaking at the very sound of your words.

Nevertheless, thankfully, the universe remained perfectly fine and just a couple of hours later everyone was back home safely again. Most returned immediately to their Home Earths, but you, Miguel, Jessica, Lyla and a couple more had ten thousand things to do in the HQ before calling it a day.

"I thought I told you to go home an hour ago." Miguel points, coming from behind you.

You turn your head to look up at him and you can't not smile at the sight. The feeling of safeness that floods you when you see his huge figure entering any room hasn't wavered for a single second. He's still that solid ground you can always rest on when the world is to heavy to carry alone.

"I'm serious. What are you doing here?" He continues, grunting in pain when he drops his weight beside you. You turn to him, furrowing your brows in worry again. He had seen that expression in you so often today... And he hates it so much. "I'm okay. Just little scratches here and there."

You withdrawn your feet from the edge of the building where you had them hanging for an hour now and crawl your way to him, sitting down on your knees to try to be eye height with him.

Your right hand wanders to his bruised neck, there where the anomaly had left his horrible mark of the violence it brought within. You follow with your index the way the clotted blood draws on his skin, sending shivers down his spine.

"Does it hurt?" You ask.

"No." He responds in between goosebumps.

He loves the effect your touch has on him. He loves your little hands looking for him, tugging at his clothes to call for his attention, brushing against his when you pass him the tablet, documents, anything. He loves the busy days where he doesn't have time to eat, where he wouldn't eat if it wasn't for you sitting beside him as he works on the screens, you scrolling through your cellphone, taking little pieces of food with a spoon or a fork to bring them closer to his mouth so he could eat without even taking his eyes off the screen.

Ridiculous? Yeah. But he loved the intimacy within. The many forms your soft hands could soothe him.

But his? He hated them. He was scared of them. Their only use was to destruct, to tear flesh apart, not to...

"Show me." He asks, pointing with his chin at your left hand placed softly above your thigh.

"It's nothing."

"Let me see it." He insist and you carefully bring your arm up, placing your fingers against his when he holds out his hand for you. Your whole palm is bandaged, the work the doctor did on you was amazing, but he can still see dried blood on it.

He doesn't say anything when he finds your eyes on him, conflicted, hesitant. There is so much between both of you, so much unsaid, so much still to do. But he sees your doubt, he hates to be the cause of it. He stays still, but he wants to scream at you, to make your little head understand: "How can't you see?! Can't you see how much you mean to me?! You're the only thing in my mind when I'm fighting, because I know I have to win, I have to get out alive to see you again. Eres lo único por lo que mi corazón llama!... Can't you not hear it?"

Instead, the tips of his fingers brush on your skin, his eyes reflecting every single light of the city below.

"Come." It's only a whisper that leaves his mouth, and you need nothing more to jump into his embrace with a desperate sigh, immediately cuddling yourself up on his lap, wrapping your arms around his neck, looking for his warm.

Hold.

He loves to hold you.

His hands serve to hold you.

To hold you against him, to protect you from anyone who wants to rip you away from his arms. To keep you warm, to keep you safe, to let you know you're home.

"Aquí estoy." He whispers.

"I know." You reply.

You breath into his scent for a couple of minutes more, until the screams and the sirens fell low to the sound of Miguel's chest going up and down in a soothing swing, his breathing, turning into the only thing you could listen to.

By the time you got your head out of his neck, he was already waiting for you with a soft smile, smile that puts your attention on the deep cut on his lower lip.

"What happened?" You ask, carefully pulling from his flesh to see the whole extension of the wound.

He sighs, closing his eyes with embarrassment. "I bit myself during the fight."

You smile, shaking your head. Your fingernail taps against the right fang in question, testing the edge by gently pressing the tip into your fingertip.

"I hate them." Miguel breaths out. His eyes are now so dim that you struggle to say where are they looking at in the middle of the night darkness.

"Why?" You whisper, taking your finger back at his lip.

"Because I fear of them. I fear they'll hurt you like they hurt me."

You purse your lips and then take his hand placed on your hip, looking back at him with raised eyebrows.

"Is the same with these?"

He nods.

"They are made to kill. I have done so many horrible things with, caused so much damage and pain, I..."

"Did you know I'm scared of heights?" His trail of words stop at your interruption. You smile, looking down from the edge, turning away form him just a little. "Ironic, for a Spider. But I still fight with it every single day. I always get so sticky when I'm on top of a building for too long it's embarrassing but..." You raise your hand in front of him, waving your fingers with a playful smile. "I'm not sticky now. And that it's because you're holding me." You cup his face. "Those things you're afraid of, are part of the person I love. And I wouldn't change a single thing."

"Mi cielo..."

"I knew what I was getting into when I decided to love you, Miguel, so don't get all soft now. I'm not going anywhere..." You whisper. "Make me bleed."

He would be lying if he said he haven't thought about it, that he haven't succumbed to his most animalistic urges when alone in the privacy of his room, pretending it was you around his cock and not his fist. He wanted to bite, he wanted to fill you. And he wanted to tear apart with his bare talons anyone and anything that got in his way.

A part of him might be scared to hurt you, yes.

But a bigger part of him was actually scared of what he would do to keep you safe. Of what he's capable of... to keep you his.

He feels sorry for you when you cuddle against his chest in your sleep as he stands up and starts walking back inside the building, covering you with his jacket to protect from the cold wind of the city for when he swings back to his apartment with you in his arms.

He feels sorry for the innocence in your love.

Like a beast, that's what he was. A beast who loved the softness in your touch, the kind in your words. But cannot return the same love. The beast is possessive, jealous of the very air that caresses your hair. And it may act vulnerable only to you, letting you get as close to slaughter him, but knowing you'll place a kiss instead. The beast would hold you as his own treasure, a creature that must not be hurt, not even for his own hands. He would cut them off before.

He would cut them off from anyone before they touch you. For no one should ever touch what he decided, that very morning you asked how he had been, would belong to him.

AND EVERYTHING WOULD HAVE CONTINUED ON GOING SO SMOOTHLY... BUT THE DAAAAAAAAMN FINALS, ah, made their entrance.

You barely have time to sleep, to eat, to fucking breathe. Your levels of anxiety are higher than the HQ damn building and your brain is so overworked you cannot do more than what you're asked to in autopilot. You know that you're only going to be like this for approximately another two weeks, but your poor lover has suffered the last four days thinking you're sick, or sad, or worse... Mad at him. No, not in that order.

"Arañita..." He calls for you. Your hand moving over your notebook at one hundred km per hour concerns him.

"The reports are done. Peter from -5266 and Hugh from -1993 are out right now. They should be getting back at any minute. Anomaly #125 was sent to its original universe this morning." You push the tablet to him with your free hand without even looking up or slowing down your writing.

"Thank you, but..." He tilts his head, furrowing his brows. "Are you okay?"

"Yes. I just need to get this done before four. By the way, can I leave early today? I need to study for tomorrow's test."

"Again? Didn't you have one yesterday?"

"Yes. We're on finals, Miguel. We tend to have a lot of them these days. That's why I'm losing my mind over here."

"Just for some tests?" You have to stop yourself to remind you it's not his fault to be smart. It's not his fault being more intelligent than almost every person you knew. It's not his fault he doesn't know what is to struggle on school. It's not his fault, It's not his fault, It's not his fault... "You haven't even touched your food." He says, looking at the little box he got you with the meal now cold.

"I... I know. I'm sorry, Mig." You sigh, looking up at him for the first time in the day. "I'm just really stressed out right now. But I promise I'll take it back home later, okay?"

This was also the fourth day you didn't stay at his place. My man doesn't want to be a burden, but he has attachment issues, ok?, and after the week you spent sleeping in his arms, it may or may not be that Miguel has been having trouble falling asleep without the weight of your body on his chest.

After watching you leave that day, Miguel found himself staying till unreasonable hours of the early morning working in the lab. There was no point on going back to his cold apartment anyway... And he had a lot of things to get done. He didn't have time to...

"Oh, it's you." Miguel jumps in his place at the sudden voice calling from behind. "I thought that poor girl had stayed here, with all the things she seems to be doing these days."

The man shakes his head, ignoring Jessica closing the distance behind him, leaning against the door frame. Miguel can almost make out the little smile on her lips without turning around, and that only infuriates him even more.

"And why do you look like a caged lion?" She mocks. "Trouble in paradise?"

Miguel's first instinct is snap back at her and ask her to leave him alone. He knows she would comply, what he doesn't know is how benefic that would be for his current situation.

"I don't know what's going out with her." He admits, letting his head fall in irritation. "She says she's having some tests right now, but she's just to... Stressed? I don't know. She's so smart I cannot conceive how bad this is affecting her." The laugh that emanates from Jessica's throat makes his ears go red. "What?"

"Oh, babe, when was the last time you went to college?" Jessica puts both of her hands on her waist, pursing the lips to avoid smiling again.

"Why is that important?"

"When, Miguel?" She demands.

"Ugh... I don't know. Like four-five years ago."

"When was the last time you failed a class?"

"Never." He immediately responds.

"When was the last time grades were important on your Earth?"

Miguel frowns. "I don't remember. The path for learning had changed long before I was born. I don't even think I ever had something like a grade. We were judged individually for our skills and our intelligence type. Not memorization."

"Exactly." She claps, pointing at him with a all-knowing finger. "Thanks to that you got the chance to develop your true abilities as a student, but our girl from 2023 it is not beneficiary of this privilege. She doesn't get the chance to strengthen in what she is good, she must memorize and memorize and memorize over and over again. Because the tests on her Earth aren't done with the purpose of just checking how is her knowledge progressing, they are done to see if she's worthy of continuing forward in her very career."

Miguel remains silent for a minute, swallowing all the new information by pieces. For someone so smart, Jessica has never see him seem so lost. The nuts in his brain begin to turn and turn until his eyes seem to light up with the clarity of the light of the new world.

"Hm." He nods. "Thank you."

The woman knows he doesn't need anything more when he turns around, typing into one of the screens something that escapes from her eyes.

During the rest of the two weeks of finals, Miguel tried to do his best to support you.

He even read all of the information about your education system, striving to understand everything in just a couple of nights.

He's a man on a mission: letting you know he's there, that you're strong and smart, and you can do it.

While you study in the lab, he leaves you be. He gets you coffee, or tea, or anything you prefer. He might even hiss at people entering his space (your space) making too much noise, pointing at you with his chin and threatening eyes.

"Hey, girl..." Peter B. comes in one morning, moving nervously under the scrutinizing gaze of your lover. "Don't be so harsh on yourself..." He gives you some awkward pats on the back, smiling. "You're doing great."

That was all it took.

"No, I'm not!" You weep, letting your head fall on the desk, shaking between sobs.

"Great. Ya la hiciste llorar." Miguel pinches the bridge of his nose, sighing. "Here, give it to her." He calls for Peter's attention, handing him an specific chocolate.

Peter takes it with confused eyes, offering it to you, reaching out his arm as if he were to touch you, you'll explode.

"Here." He says. "Look what I got."

You raise your eyes, meeting the little packing. Then, when you look at him, Peter almost thinks he just made all worst.

"Oh, Peter... Thank you!" You take the chocolate, pulling from him to a big hug. "I love these so much, thank you! You're so kind!"

Peter lets you be, looking back at Miguel who just nods at him to let him know this wasn't his first rodeo. He pats your back, soothing you with some more nervous words until you're ready to let him go.

If you're really struggling, Miguel won't think twice to help you. He's smart, it takes him nothing more than a look to his old notes or a quick search on the internet (specially if you're studying something science related or an engineering, if you're on law or arts, oh boy, you're gonna make this man suffer) to know exactly what you need and make sure you're taking that fucking project tomorrow.

Some other days, he just catches you sleeping with your hands crossed above the table and your saliva drooling out to your notes. His jacket would then come over you, after, he would take your pending stuff and start solving problems and making notes for you to have it easier at the memorizing part of the study.

You always wake up to see the edges of your paper full of arrows, little equations and encircled key words. And, sometimes, a tired Miguel sleeping uncomfortably by your side, just waiting for you to tell him it's time to go.

The day, a Friday, where you're finally done with college (at least for a couple of months) Miguel felt it like the day his soul came back to his body.

You are smiling all day again, calling his name, doing a mess all over the whole building. And he can not be more happy about it.

He might never tell you, me might even justify himself saying he had been staying up late working in the lab every time you ask for the bags under his eyes. Because he's definitely not telling you there were nights where he couldn't even close his eyes 'cause you weren't there with him.

"Time to go home." You hum behind him, getting all of your stuff inside your backpack.

"Thank God" He rubs his neck, walking closer to you to give you a soft kiss on the forehead. "I'm dying."

You yawn, nodding. "Me too. These weeks drained me."

"Me too." He repeats, and you don't know how much he means it. "Let's just go to sleep, yeah? Hopefully tomorrow there won't be so much to do."

You smile, leaning into his embrace as you walk out the door, hearing the lights turning off as both come closer and closer to the exit.

"Yeah, that sounds good."

"Okay."

Miguel steadies your body by pressing down on your hips, keeping your ass on the bed. You try to push his face out of between your thighs but he refuses to pull apart.

"Miguel!" You cry out, tears rolling down your cheeks cause of the overstimulation he was putting you in. "Too much, too much..."

His fingers curl inside you one more time, and your arch your back, almost rolling your eyes at the feeling. His tongue flicks over your sensitive bud again, dragging choked moans out of you. You try to squirm away but his hands pull you from your ass back at him as soon as you start moving.

"Easy there, Arañita. I'm almost done." He smiles up at you, letting you see the lower half of his face completely covered in your arousal.

"Mig... Mi amor..." You breath out, trying to push him out again when his chuckle crashes against your folds.

"One more, love, and you'll be ready for me." He sucks on your clit as he speaks, moving his fingers with an slower pace now. "Uno más, mamita, dame uno más."

He pushes his face down on you, working his tongue all around your most needy spot with his digits burying now deep inside you, hitting that soft place between your walls that makes you want to cry. You're a mess of moans and whimpers by now, but when his teeth slowly press on your clit, it's over for you. Your eyes roll back, your thighs tremble around him, encaging him in his favorite prison as he guides you through it, moaning into your skin when he feels your pleasure dripping on him, motivating his hips to hump against the mattress as a fucking teenager would do.

After you get down from your high, you look up at him to find him positioning himself between your legs, dragging the tip of his cock up and down on your folds.

"Miguel, wait, I'm..."

"You know your safe word, mamita, you can make me stop whenever you want." He places your legs on his shoulders and his hands on your hips, keeping you just as he wishes to. "I'm going in, and I want your eyes on me all the time I fuck you, ¿me entiendes, hermosa?"

You nod, watching the point where both of your bodies would join. He enters slowly, giving you time to adjust his size. But after the first hint of your hips trying to feel him even more, he pulls back and thrusts all the way in, making your head fall back as your back arches.

His right hand grabs you by the jaw, forcing you to open your eyes and observe how red his irises had turned.

"Eyes on me."

His pace speeds up, bottoming out with every thrust he makes. Your hands push at his lower abdomen, biting your lip to avoid crying out loud again.

"Too fast, Mig. Too much." You moan, your still overstimulated clit rips another whimper from you every time his happy trail and trimmed hair crashes against it. You were barely holding on, but your lover can't never get enough. His body reaches down, and as he places one hand around your neck, his other thumb toys at your clit in a excruciating pace. "Fuck! No, Miguel."

You tremble under him, wrapping your legs around his waist when you cannot think about anything more than cumming. Your nails bury on the skin of his back, dragging an out of breath grunt out of him.

"I'm, I'm cum-" You try to voice but nothing in your brain seems to work anymore.

"Do it, love. I got you." He keeps up his pace, almost kissing your cervix by now. "Cum for me, mi amor."

His hand squeezes a little bit harder on your neck and you need nothing else to see fucking white. Your mouth opens in a big O before your start trembling, shaking uncontrollably under his body, letting out the sweetest of sounds for him to hear.

He grunts, falling into the crock of your neck when you tighten your walls around him.

"I'm going to fucking fill you." He's out of breath and he curses something in Spanish you cannot make out. "I'm going to put a baby on your tummy, mamita..."

"Miguel..." You were on the verge of tears again, you cannot longer feel your legs but you surely can feel him deep inside you.

"Yes, love. Fuck... I'm cumming. I'm..." He bites down on your flesh, sinking his fangs into your skin when his hips stutter. His talons grow so big they dig into the headboard.

You moan at the feeling, hugging your body to his until he can breath normal again.

When he looks back at you his eyes have returned to that soft brown you're used too.

"Are you okay?" He asks, sending shivers down your spine when he caresses the sore skin.

"Yes." You smile and he traps your lips into a kiss. "And now I'm really fucking tired."

He chuckles, lifting his weight onto his forearms.

"Come here, amor. Let's take a shower so you can rest comfortably." He places another soft peck on your forehead. "I'll wash your hair."

You definitely know he will do more than that.

PD: Tbh with you guys, all I could think about while writing this was this tiktok:

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara imagine #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #miguel o'hara x you #miguel ohara #miguel ohara x reader #miguel ohara x y/n #miguel o'hara smut #miguel ohara fluff #miguel ohara smut #spiderman 2099 #across the spiderverse #atsv #peter b parker

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bi-writes · 2 months

Text

so idk where i got this idea but mercenary!ghost x fem!reader because he's scary and mean and dangerous but then he sees some girl's ass in light blue denim.

notes about reader: as always, i tend to write readers described as curvy because im curvy and we deserve attention from 6'4 beefcakes who are soft only for us. reader is a civilian.

mercenary!ghost (part 1/?)

cw: mature language and content, suggestive language and content, dark!ghost, mentions of ghost's past canon trauma (domestic abuse + violence), mw3 spoilers, violence and gore + mentions of murder and extortion, mentions of reader + domestic abuse, protective!simon, size kink (reader is described as much smaller than simon, easily manhandled by him), pet names (luv, bunny + rabbit, puppy, angel face), reader learns she has a dark side and she likes it, nsfw thoughts about reader, suggestive touching (fem!receiving)

the sound of the burner phone pings on the desk in front of him. when he picks it up, he narrows his eyes as he reads the message displayed across the screen.

DEPOSITED.

when he opens his laptop, his eyes scan over the balance on an offshore account, and he relaxes when he sees the hefty balance climb just a little higher. he closes the device once he's satisfied with what he sees; and like always, he tastes the warmth of that satisfaction. it's a nice high, but it won't last, and then he'll need to feed the gaping hole that lives in him.

it remains hungry. he has never been able to close it--it has only ever gotten wider, ripped at the seams and torn at the edges every time another body close to him drops.

the high is poison. but even if it kills him, no one will miss him. so he picks up the handgun that lays haphazard on the bed, and he tucks it into the back of his jeans.

he passes by the mirror as he fits a dark denim jacket over his shoulders. he stares back at himself, a recognizable beast of a man staring right back. he pulls his hoodie up over him, and in the shadow of it, all he can see are his dark eyes, pale skin peeking through the eyeblack that has lightened up with the wear of it throughout the day.

he craves something strong and warm tonight. he itches for something soft, too, something that makes him forget the red on his ledger, even if for only a few hours.

there is nothing quite strong enough to wipe that kind of stain away. he is nothing if not a reaper, and he buries bodies with the same tenacity that he had when he wore his country's flag on his chest. this time, however, he does not take orders--he names his price.

he thinks something is wrong with him. some used to say that it was his courage that brought him back from the dead--that his heart is too strong, his will to live too much, and that is how he continues to open his eyes and live another day. but he doesn't agree with this thought, because he doesn't really think he feels anything at all.

he doesn't feel human. he doesn't feel alive. the only thing that makes him feel any sort of vulnerability is how red his own blood is when he bleeds. when his scars heal jagged and crooked, it is because there is something underneath the skin. but he feels nothing inside--no remorse, no guilt, he is not sorry.

he does not check to see if those men are innocent. he does not care about the names that end up on his list. he doesn't ask questions. and he thinks something is wrong with him because he sleeps at night just fine now; the nightmares have gone. he is alone, and it is peaceful.

there are no voices. there is only silence. and there is something wrong with him.

the pub is quiet. it is a weekday, and the only patrons are here after a long day's work, and they all look into the depths of their half-empty glasses hoping to find relief there. there is none, but they will finish their glasses hoping it might be dissolved in the alcohol.

he asks for two fingers of bourbon. it stings when it goes down, but then it settles warm. he is poured another two fingers of it, but before he can pick it up, someone else grips the glass and tips it back to swallow it down.

the glass hits the wood of the counter with an echoing thud, and you cough out a fuck as you settle into the seat beside him. you run a trembling hand over your face, and he notices immediately the red of your knuckles and the splitting of the skin there. they are fresh; the bruising is still new, and the blood is just barely beginning run down the back of your hand.

he leans over the bar, swiping the whole bottle of bourbon, and he silently pours more into the glass, hitting it towards you before picking up a new glass and filling it generously.

"who's the lucky bastard?" he asks, and your eyes flick to the cuts on the back of your hand before going back to the dark swirling colors of the drink.

"i'm sure he'll be coming in here any second to introduce himself."

the pub doors slam open, and there is a man coming in, chest heaving, dark hair falling over his forehead in sweaty curls that do nothing to hide the clear bruise on his face the split of his lip. his eyes move over the room before they settle on you, and his boots fall heavy as he makes his way over.

ghost sees his intentions clear immediately. the way his hand twitches at his side, the angry glare, the uncontrollable urge to hurt and to take and to control coming off of him like steam.

he has seen this kind of man before. this man was the one that kept him up at night as a child. this man was the one that scared his mum, that drove his brother to chase vices, that tore apart a house that should've been filled with something warm and sticky and kind into one marred with teeth, rotten and putrid and forgotten.

his hand goes for the back of your neck, and you close your eyes and tense in the anticipation, but it never comes. a strong hand grips his outstretched one, and the man cries out as ghost twists it behind his back and uses his other hand to slam his face into the wood of the bar, trapping him there.

the bartender does not even flinch, just continues to wipe down glasses. the patrons continue to stare into the abyss of their sorrow.

you jump a little, your head snapping to the side where the man squirms and sputters, his face going pale from the paw of a hand gripping him by the back of the neck and shoving his face into the counter. if he pushes any harder, you wonder if it'd splinter and fray, dig into the bones of his bruised cheek.

"this man botherin' ya, yeah?"

your eyes finally flick up. you do not know what you expect, but it isn't this. you can only see his eyes; they scare you. you do not lie because you aren't entirely sure how far his kindness will go.

"yes," you whisper, and when the man tries to spit at you, a rough gloved hand grips his curls and positions his head against the edge of the counter, forcing his mouth open until the top row of his teeth bite the wood.

"y'keep talkin' to her, n'it'll be the last time you talk, hear that, mate? y'talk to me, n'me only."

you swallow hard, and the man trembles. a strong boot hits the back of his knees, and then he's crumbling to the ground, his jaw straining as the counter is still forced against his mouth. hot, pained tears come down his face, and then he addresses you.

"what did he do?"

"bad first date," is all you can manage to sputter. he grips the man by the scruff of his neck before pulling him off to speak, tilting his head to the side as he observes the begging man on his knees.

"y'try to put your hands on'er?"

"i-it wasn't...like that! i-it was just a mis...a misunderstanding, please! please--please tell him--!"

"don't like fuckin' liars either," is the only warning given before his mouth is forced to bite the counter, and then a sharp elbow comes down on his head. you jump in surprise at the suddenness of it all, and you close your eyes when you hear the crunch of teeth being broken. his scream is enough to rattle the pub, but when you look around, it's as if nothing at all has happened. it is quiet, and all the bartender does is shake their head.

when you open your eyes, he's crawling on his hands and knees out of the pub, and what he leaves behind is a mess of blood and teeth and fluid that are splattered against the floor at your feet. you shake as you look up at him, stiff in your seat and soft tears coming down your face.

he towers over you. you have to tilt your head back between your shoulders to look at him face-to-face. you cannot see his face; he hides it behind dark fabric, but his eyes talk loud. they are dark, and they are dull, and you realize as you stare up at him that he is not phased in the slightest by what he had just done. in fact, he steps into your space, and the squelch of blood under his boot doesn't seem to bother him. he wears black, and you wonder, momentarily, if he wears such a color to hide the red hiding between the threads of the fabric. the red he can't wash away.

"let me look at ya, little rabbit."

you flinch when he knocks your knees apart, spreading them to make space for the width of him. he reaches up with one gloved hand and grips your chin, tilting your head to either side to see if you are hurt anywhere but your hand. when he is satisfied with his observations, he cups the expanse of your throat, smoothing those big fingers along the pulsing vein there and feeling the way you swallow.

so alive. so soft. a pretty little bunny, dropped into his waiting hands.

his eyes fall, and he takes you in. wide hips that take up the seat you're sitting in, hugged so nicely by light blue denim jeans. they curve over the swell of your ass, and he wonders how much of it would fit in his palm--he thinks about how it might feel to spread them apart and taste the succulent sweetness that he knows exists between your thighs and how your mouth might look slack jawed and wide open for him.

you look like a good girl, even with bloody knuckles.

then he follows the line of your shirt. it's a simple t-shirt tucked into your jeans, but the neckline gives a nice peek of you and the curve of your tits--they sit so nicely there, all perky, and ghost thinks they look lonely. they would be better off in his mouth or squeezing his cock between them or pebbling between his dirty gloved fingers.

filthy. disgusting. he is scarred all over, and you look so soft and sweet, with those tender puppy eyes and the way your lips tremble, and he bets you kiss all soft and slippery. he bets your cunt is tight and with enough coaxing, he could make you drench his skin with something decadent and slick, with whatever drools into your panties. he imagines it is there now, even as you tremble and shake and plead with your eyes for him to let go of your throat.

but ghost is not a good man. he does not feel; he is not a man at all. he is a beast in the shape of one, disguised, and he brings misery to everything he touches. he knows he will do it to you, too--touching pretty girls, he leaves them with burns. they are not the same after they are with him, and he wants to feel bad about it, he wants to feel something, but he does not. he feels nothing.

"you olright, luv?"

you nod frantically, putting a hand over his wrist that holds you, and he almost laughs. your hand is so much smaller than his own. if he squeezes his hand just a little harder, he figures it would not take much to break what lies beneath it. he leans in, and you gulp when your thighs trap his hips. he is warm, a furnace that burns, but you relax when the side of his mask nuzzles against your face.

he is a dog, and he is fond of you.

you should run. you should hit him like you hit your wretched date, and you should run, far, away from him, swear off men for good and never allow one in your space again lest they be as beastly as this. you should run while you can, but you are a bunny not yet in his trap, and you still have time to escape.

but then both of your eyes open at the same time, and his eyes meet your own, and then--oh.

the cage snaps shut. it rattles around you. it is small and confined, but you don't realize what it is yet because you can still breathe, and it is still warm, and you are still soft and alive and here.

your face softens, and his eyes flicker down to your lips as you lick them. maybe he was right. liars are bad. men like the one you were with before were scum. you had been with men like that before, you had seen the destruction they brought to those they thought they loved. when they wrought fear and made others bleed, they never got in trouble. no one cared to do to them what they deserved because they silenced their lambs and slaughtered the light out of them.

it is biblical--an eye for an eye. if they take from you, why can't you take from them?

it is brutish men like this one that do what others are too timid to. your thighs close around his hips, and you feel something digging into your leg, something metal and heavy tucked into his jeans. a weapon, but you imagine it is a mercy because you have an inkling that what he does with his hands is so much worse. bullets are clean and fast; his hands are not.

johnny would tell him to let you go. he does, over his shoulder, spitting at him to leave, to let you slip through his fingers and find your way out, to open the cage.

the wee lass--look at 'er angel face. let 'er go--not meant for this, LT. she scares. 's in 'er eyes. won't last.

but he does not feel. he is not human. there is something wrong with him, he knows it, but he doesn't care. he will ruin you, and he should feel bad, but he can't, he doesn't. and then there it is--your eyes are flickering low, eyeing the mask, and you are wondering how much effort it would take to push it up and lick into his mouth, taste him, suck the warmth of the bourbon from his mouth and replace it with your own.

he will kill again. the cage is shut, it is locked, and he is watching the bunny in its cage, watching as it becomes aware of its surroundings, takes in what is new. but just like he figures, just like he knows, this little bunny has no idea what this cage is. she has no idea she is even in one.

fuck what johnny says. if johnny was like him, if he was not skin and bone but steel and reptile, he would not have died. he would have come back. he would have moved his head, shaken the blood off, and gotten back up, but he didn't, and he's not here, and he's not real--so fuck what he thinks, fuck what he says, fuck him because he left me, and i'm all alone, and if i don't devour and eat and tear apart, i will wither away because i am not me, i am something else--

he smiles under the mask. you notice it, the slight movement there, and you smile, too, suddenly. his hand falls, and the back of his knuckles graze over the swell of your breast, down your stomach, and then he's gripping your waist. that hand slips behind you, and you brace yourself with both hands on his chest as he cups one side of your ass. possessive and suffocating--you think maybe you should run again, but you don't want to.

you want something more. you want something a little rough, something a little sharp. you want something to tell you that a little blood is good sometimes. that answering blood with a little more blood was exactly how it should be. that we don't have to be docile, to back down. you want to be told that it's okay to bite.

there is something wrong with you.

#simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost mw2 #ghost cod #ghost call of duty #ghost mwii #ghost x reader #cod #call of duty #simon riley smut #simon ghost riley smut #dark!ghost #dark!simon riley #dark!simon

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classicalchan · 6 months

Text

liar

pairing: bangchan x f! reader

rating: sfw

tags: sharing a bed, just pure softness, cuddling, best friends to lovers, pining, confessions, tired chan

wc: i'm too lazy to count but idk it's probably 2k 😭(I'm definitely wrong)

your doorbell rings when it's close to midnight, its sound reverberating through every corner of your little apartment. your socked feet carry you from bed to the door on autopilot. you weren't sleeping, but you were nearly there.

you open up your front door and off-white light from the hallway spills shamelessly into your dark living space. Chan stands there, bag slung lazily across his shoulder, eyes droopy with sleep.

"they borrowed my place for a party i don't wanna be at," he declares. "I'm sleeping here."

he walks in without waiting for an answer, wrapping you in a quick, one-armed hug for a greeting on his way. his bag finds its place on your couch. he switches a couple of lamps on here and there and fixes a photo frame on his way to your bathroom with a towel and some clothes in hand.

you kind of like how it's so natural for him to be at your place. like he belongs here. like he could live here.

you wished he would.

you lay back in bed, shifting to a side, leaving the rest of the space for Chan. ever since you first cuddled up with him a few months ago, it became an unspoken rule between you to always sleep cuddled up when alone.

it was one of the best parts of your friendship with him. you could abandon every care in the world when he was around and just be. He was always there- gentle, warm, protective, kind. everything you wished for in a man.

everything you can't have.

it had been weeks since you had gone to bed without thinking of him. even in the face of extreme exhaustion and no contact, Chan never failed to slip into your thoughts. he needed to compensate you for all the nights you couldn't sleep just because he did something adorable during the day and you wouldn't stop thinking about it.

he needed to apologize for every time you accidentally called one of your friends by his name, just because he wouldn't leave your head.

and he needed to desperately make up for nights like these. nights when he would touch you and let you touch him, but never enough. there was always a weighted, invisible boundary you hated with all your guts. a burning line you couldn't cross.

so, over the days, you had learned to make peace with what you got, no matter how little. you had learned to make the most of his arms around you, the firmness of his torso pressed to your back, the warmth of his breathing behind your ear, his occasional sleepy rambling.

sometimes he said your name.

before you knew it, the mattress dips beside you, the familiar scent of Chan's shampoo filling up your senses. you came alive a little.

his arm slips across your middle, pulling you as close as humanly possible into the abyss that was his warmth. you could spend an eternity here without a syllable of protest falling from your lips.

“i don’t have a shirt on, is that okay?” he mumbles into your hair.

more than okay, you wanted to say but for the sake of the friendship you had spent years building, you resorted to a small hum. he usually slept barely clothed, but when with you, he always asked. he made sure never to cross any lines. he was cautious, reserved. too far.

“is everything okay?” you ask. “you usually do not turn down a chance to party.”

you feel him move behind you, long fingers fiddling with the thin fabric of your t-shirt. he yawns like a puppy.

“i’d had a busy day,” he begins. “i needed some sleep and you know how bad i am at getting to sleep alone...”

his knuckle accidentally brushes your navel. you shiver.

“…besides you weren’t there. i’ve missed having you around y/n, now that i see it.”

your skin flushes hot, lips involuntarily swelling into a smile. you turn your face into your pillow, determined to bury your happiness into the fluff.

“i’ve missed you too,” you confess.

his blunt nails graze against your flesh again, and you wonder how much of it was accidental anymore. could Chan tell? did he know how down bad you were for him?

“liar,” he whispers, squeezing your body lightly into his own.

he liked to do that, you had noticed. almost as if finding a way to inch closer, as if making up for the fact that there would always be some molecular distance between you no matter what.

or maybe you were just reading too much into it.

you place a hand over his own, fingertips drawing subtle lines into his pale skin, tracing the veins you stared at shamelessly in broad daylight.

“you really think i’d lie to you?”

“you wouldn’t?” he asks.

you turned around, facing him. your hand settles on his bare chest. you could feel his heart beat beneath your touch.

“no,” you confirm. “never.”

he smiles, his hair getting into his eyes as he puts his forehead against yours.

“okayyy,” he giggles. “tell me something then, since you claim to not lie.”

your heart picks up pace, hammering beneath your chest, and you were half afraid Chan might hear it. you swallow thickly, a small lump forming in your throat.

“yeah?”

his gaze wraps over you like a veil, clouding everything else just enough that he is all you can see.

"do you like me?" he whispers.

the question drops in your heart and sinks into your gut. you've been caught, red-handed. but you were so careful, so vigilant, looking but never for too long, complimenting him but being careful not to flirt, telling him you love him when he needed to hear it but taking care to conceal the love you felt.

you want to play it cool. you're scared of how it's going to go.

"duh," you say. "of course i like you, why else would we be friends?"

he clicks his tongue, a soft laugh escaping his lips. he drops a light kiss on your forehead and you sigh.

"you're not that naive," he states. "come on, I'll wait for you."

you feel your cheeks heat up. it gets harder by the second to stay still, not with chan's fingers rubbing warmth into your back, his face so close you could steal a kiss. he was no fool. he never had been. who did you think you were hiding from?

"i..." you begin, your mouth drying up. "yeah."

you feel his marble fingers slip under your chin. pressure, soft but commanding, forced you to look at him.

"you what, sweetheart?"

the endearment sent you spiraling. you squeeze his muscled shoulder, fingers digging into flesh.

"don't be an ass," you say. "i'm not gonna say it."

he chuckles. you watch his gaze move across your face, settle on your lips, and then back to your eyes again. you didn't want to think ahead of yourself.

you didn't want to break your heart.

he leaned in, his arm circling around your waist, his mouth leaving a soft kiss to your temple. you could die like this and it wouldn't be so bad.

"please," he whispers. "you said you'd be honest."

and who were you to turn down chan with his gentle voice and sturdy hands and body warmth and huge heart and ---? you could go on forever.

you grind your teeth together unconsciously, draw in a deep breath, and sigh. he knows you're giving in.

"i do like you," you admit finally. "so much more than a friend."

his palm slides up your back and finds your hair, long fingers gripping them and pulling you in. he smiles when he kisses you- mouth tasting of cinnamon and longing and want.

"fucking finally," he breathes. "you've got no idea how long i've waited for this."

you melt into a caramel puddle in his hands. you lean in again, pressing your lips onto his like he'd disappear, like this is all you've got.

taglist: @tinysoftie

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sainzproductions · 6 months

Text

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐨 ⋆ 𝐜. 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐳

THE OTHER WOMAN / SEQUEL !

where you acclimate to the current dating scene after eight years of being with carlos...

liked by lewishamilton, charles_leclerc and others

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↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

You felt like you had done a good job all by yourself. You took your sweet time getting used to being alone again, having spent the better part of the past decade accompanying carlos and living together with him.

As embarassing as it was to admit, there were days where you'd wake up abruptly as if hearing his footsteps, or the faint rumble of his voice lulling you to sleep. There were moments where you'd break down crying upon seeing an article of clothing belonging to carlos, or seeing pictures when you were still happily together.

It wasn't easy to forget an eight year relationship. You soon realized. He was all you've ever known and adored... You dreamt a life with the guy for crying out out loud!

You wanted all the permanent things, the domestic future, him.

But the reality was that you were different people who wanted starkly different things in life. Carlos was set on his career while you had the burden of being a woman. You didn't have forever to waste away, and you didn't want to spend it waiting for a future that could never be in the stars for you and him.

You had accepted it. It wasn't all tears, and tearful reminiscing anyways. Your life had picked up after a couple of weeks. It was a lie. You spent a month and a half being pathetic. But who was counting?

You were having the time of your life. Your singleness provided a way for you to realize new and old hobbies.

You finally went back to your hometown, despite your fears of facing your parents' knowing looks and getting an ill timed i told you so's from their ever skeptic way of seeing life. Especially your relationship with Carlos..

But your mother took one look at you; in your deshieveled and devastated form, wordlessly opening her arms and craddling your pathetic self as you wept about your broken heart.

You found peace in the tranquility of your childhood home. Reacquainting yourself with your horse, champion whom you had been neglecting— you realize belatedly. The help couldn't take the horses out that much, where you formerly took the stallion out for most of the day. You made sure to make up for lost time however.

You were also able to rekindle old friendships, quickly becoming fast friends once again as if no time had passed at all. You traipsed all over Madrid, enjoying the thrill of meeting new people, of learning new things... And how forward the current dating scene seemed to be in regards to matters concerning...

"Wait, wait." You press a hand towards his broad chest, breathing roughly. Your chest rose and fell with excitement as you tried to come down from how fast the things had quickly become heated between the two of you. "We're going a bit too fast, don't you think?" You whine under your breath, as his face came down to press open mouthed kisses on your neck, easily finding your most sensitive spot as he expertly manouvers your body, backing you up against the wall.

"Relax. We won't do anything you don't want." He says, softening his tone, "I'm not a hooligan." He tuts, pressing a feather like kiss on the side of your lips.

"Says the man who pulled me into a dark room to play tonsil tennis." You retort amusedly, stroking your fingers on his neck. You couldn't help but close your eyes at the sensation of his lips against your skin, his fingers making quick work of slipping under your skirt, and you hissed from the sensation of his cold rings against your thighs, "You're cold!"

"Warm me up then, love." He was evidently amused by your reactions and the way your cheeks flushed at his crude remark. He wiped away every other thought from your mind, as he kisses you wantonly. He made sure to hold your gaze as he pulls away, sinking down to his knees... and kissing your thighs softly. "Beautiful. So fucking beautiful. I couldn't think of anything else when you walked into the room. Nobody else mattered but you... you're bad for my business, darling."

You could hardly register anything else after that

↶*ೃ✧˚. ❃ ↷ ˊ-

The breakup came with the long forgotten territory of male attention. Sure, there were some bold and uncaring lads few and far between, but Carlos had quickly shut down every attempt with a swift glare and a possesive hand over you. You didn't mind. You only needed him and his attention and everyone else were merely annoying backnoise.

As it is, your breakup was made public through the urging of Carlos' management and his public relations team. You cooperated seamlessly despite being civil, to the point of rudeness, to their every demand.

How ironic was it that through his blatant act of wanting to separate himself from you and everything else that had to do with you; he made a declaration to the world that you were readily available.

Your dms were sure packed to the brim when you'd later had the energy to do anything asides from the basic tasks of taking care of yourself. You couldn't laugh nor cry upon seeing several of carlos' work acquaintances making their presence known in your dms. You even saw his former (and possibly current) teammates taking their shot.

You couldn't help but wonder for how long has he been... Non committal towards his best mates about your real score. They couldn't possibly muster up the courage had it been the true duration of your separation. Men aren't that proactive. They atleast had some base sense of loyalty.

Then again, it didn't take very long for him to be spotted with some model on his arm. He looked happy, invigorated... Annoyingly handsome. Fuck him and his perfect face. You wished you atleast threw a heel at him for being a dickwad.

Were you seeing other people out of spite or trying to prove yourself to him? You wouldn't exactly say so. You'd had an agreement with the well established, and good looking gentleman who had made you tremble and writhe under his tongue. He was incredibly lax and cool, and great company in every sense of the word. He made you laugh, he also made you cry just now.

And so while you made yourselves look presentable, you were first out the door while he waited a few minutes to make his entrance into the party again. You gratefully took a flute of champagne from a passing waiter, wetting your parched throat as you looked around as normally as you could. Blending in with the fancy people in their cocktail dresses and designers.

You heard footsteps approaching after a few moments. Another man spotted him, and he grinned in recognition upon the sight of the ever famous....

"Sir Hamilton!"

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tsireyasluvr · 5 months

Text

Sweetness

Lo’ak x Metkayina!reader

Authors note: I meant to make this short and sweet but got way carried away😭 hope you guys enjoy this tho! <3 word count: 4k+

Summary: Neteyams death inevitably changed Lo’ak, making him colder and harsher around you than ever before. He shut everyone around him out, but you being the sweet and soft girl of the village made you want to help him get out of his slump. And you did help, just not in the way you might’ve expected.

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, porn with plot, angst, comfort, mentions of death, mentions of blood, substance use, alcohol, aged up Lo’ak, dom Lo’ak, mean Lo’ak, innocent reader, praises, brief oral, fingering, drunk sex, grinding, whining, virgin reader, first time (p in v)

Lo’ak struggled with Neteyams death, that couldn’t be more clear to anyone. The entire Sully family had faced their struggles surrounding the older boy’s death, but they had slowly made peace with it. Lo’ak however, wasn’t even close.

He never got over the feeling of it being his fault. He’s the one who pushed Neteyam to save Spider, the one who couldn’t just let things sit and chase after his own family instead. He wanted to save his friend, and in return, he got his brother killed. Lo’ak felt like even more of a failure than before, like he deserved to be treated like an outcast after having his beloved older brother killed.

He’s chosen to ignore his family and friends, ditching his siblings to get drunk and wallow in his sorrows at whatever private place he could find. Really he wasn’t picky, just as long as people would stop bothering him already. He was sick of the looks he’d get from his own family, the bits of pity accompanied by disgust from the rest of the Metkayina clan.

Never you though. You cared for him, and truth be told you had a bit of a reputation around the clan for being the soft and kind, almost “innocent” cousin of Tsireya and Ao’nung. You were opposite to Lo’ak, never really one to step out of line or do anything that might anger the elders. you didn’t see much of a reason to. You’ve always had a soft spot for the younger Sully boy, mesmerized by how quick he adapted to the way of water, how much effort he put in despite his body not being built for it. He was passionate, rebellious by nature sure, but you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t found it charming. And as his learning went on, you enjoyed occasionally helping to teach him and his siblings, especially when you got to have a few private sessions with him. You were building a friendship, maybe even a small crush arising within you. All right before the tragic death on those rocks.

You’d see Lo’ak wandering around the village at times, but only really to get his hands on food and whatever alcohol he could get, before he’d disappear again. Into the palm trees, to a separated beach, maybe a clearing near a cave. Those were just a few of your guesses.

It bothered you. He was once a fiery, determined ball of energy, never taking anyone’s shit and trusting himself to do what felt right. Yet now, he was always alone and hiding. You couldn’t help but frown and worry. So one night, you see him again, walking through the sand in the general direction of what you assumed was the cove, a bottle clearly in hand. Feeling a little brave, you decided to follow him.

Lo’ak had sat down on a smooth stone ledge overlooking the water. The sun had already set, making your tanhi glow along your soft skin while the moon lit up the scene around you. You timidly walked over to him, sitting down beside him but a little further from the edge with your legs crossed. Neteyam and Lo’ak were the only ones you’ve ever told about your fear of heights. It was something you always thought was a little embarrassing, and they forced the confession out of you when you refused to join them on a ride on Neteyams ikran. You can’t help but feel a little guilty passing that up now.

Lo’aks gaze was cold, his face showing little emotion while he started out into the water. His eyes had been bloodshot, from the alcohol or lack of sleep you didn’t know, but it was a sight that made your stomach churn either way. You glanced down to his lap, seeing the now half-empty bottle sat between his legs.

His thoughts were looming over his head, the alcohol doing little to settle the pit in his stomach. That night was all he could ever think about. The pained scream of his mother, the hurtful “you’ve done enough” his father had muttered, feeling Neteyams heart stop beating underneath his palms, his hands wet with his brothers blood-

“Lo’ak?” Your quiet, velvety soft voice broke the silence. You looked up at him with your big green eyes, your lip permanently a little pouty as the cold breeze blew through your curly hair. “Hm?” He grunted, not really looking in your directed as he took another swig from the bottle. You swallowed thickly, before asking your question.

“Can I stay for a little?” Your voice sounds almost nervous, like he’d snap or bite at you if you pissed him off. He couldn’t help but feel frustrated at this, taking a deep breath to settle his emotions. He turned to look at you, his vivid amber eyes faded into something more dull. “Actually, y/n, I kind of came here to be alone.”

You huffed out a breath, trying not to let the rejection get to you once he turns away again. Instead, you sit a little closer, letting your feet dangle off the edge as your heart starts racing in your chest. He cocked a brow at this, surprised that the village good girl didn’t listen for once. That, and the fact that he knew how scared you were of heights. Wether he’d want to admit it or not, Lo’ak had always noticed you tried to make everything better, even when it seemed impossible.

“People are worried, you know” You say quietly, your voice less shaky now that you managed to calm your heartbeat, trying to focus on him and the sound of the waves rather than how high you were up on these cliffs. “I don’t care, y/n” He scoffed, sipping on the bottle again, hardly feeling the liquid burn his throat anymore.

You furrowed your brows at that, looking at the side of his face again as you spoke. “I know that’s not true, Lo’ak. You’ve never been careless. I understand you’re hurting, you have every right to, but-“

He cut you off with a scowl, turning his head towards you “Oh, do i? Because according to my father, I’m the one who got us all into this mess. You say everyone is worried, but who exactly is everyone, y/n? Because it sure as hell isn’t my family, and your clan has hated me from the fucking start.” He practically snarled, his eyes narrowing as he looked down at you.

You looked at him helplessly, feeling yet another tinge of anxiety from his yelling, but knowing deep down it wasn’t meant to be directed at you. Lo’ak stood from his spot, rubbing his face with his hand, and that’s when you smell the wave of alcohol coming from his form.

“Just.. just go away, y/n. I really don’t need this right now” He leaned against the cliff wall, his arms crossing in front of his chest as he waited for you to get up and go.

You stood, trying to fight back the tears welling in your eyes. Truth be told, you weren’t really used to having anyone yell at you. You’ve never stepped out of line or disobeyed orders, no one’s ever had a reason to try and punish or intimidate you. You wondered if it may have you come across as weak, or fragile. Two things that you very much were not, regardless of how soft you may be.

“Lo’ak, please” You say, trying to stand your ground. “Please just let me stay. I won’t- I won’t try to force you to talk about it anymore, I promise. I’m just worried about you” You pleaded, the breeze becoming more harsh as you felt shivers go up your arms.

He clenched his jaw, something inside him stopping himself from believing that you had good intentions. “why?” He uncrossed his arms, scoffing as he stood up straight in front of you. “Why are you so fucking worried, y/n?” His voice sounded almost taunting, and you couldn’t figure out why.

“Because you’re never around the village anymore. You’re grieving, and I think-“ He cut you off once again.

“What? That you can fix me? Take me on a special project for your healer training maybe? You realize some herbs and spices can’t make this all go away, right? Sorry I can’t help you crawl further up Ronals ass with your little strive for perfection, y/n, but it just so looks like I’m a problem this clan can’t shake” He growls, every word feeling almost like a dagger to your heart.

“You’re not a problem, Lo’ak” You say gently, trying to keep the calm attitude for him. “I don’t see you as one, I never have. I see so much greatness in you-“

“Save the fucking speech, y/n-“

“Will you just let me talk!”

“…”

You had snapped, tears freely falling down your cheeks now. “Stop treating me like I don’t have feelings! Or like- like you don’t know me! We were friends before all this, you know how much I cared for you, how much i still care for you. It doesn’t matter if every single person in this clan hated you, I care and I worry! And it sucks to see you like this, constant bottle in your hand and the energy and joy completely sucked out of you. It sucks that you walk by me like I don’t matter, that you never talk to me anymore and that you’re always on something. I can’t handle it, and it breaks my heart, so excuse me if I come here to check on you because Im worried!”

He swallowed hard, taking aback by your outburst but trying not to show it. He felt the guilt slowly creep up his skin, watching your shoulders shake with sobs as you let out a much quieter “I worry”, repeating yourself so helplessly. Lo’aks eyes flicked away for a moment before returning to yours. “You shouldn’t” He muttered out, his voice rough as he reached out a hand to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I can’t help it” You whisper, sniffling as your lip quivered, your eyes now glossy as you looked up at him. His hand on your cheek made you feel the tiniest spark of comfort. He smiled a little at that, the first almost warm expression you’ve seen on his face in weeks if not months. “Hm, I guess you can’t.”

Lo’ak cupped your face with his free hand, the other still holding the bottle you so desperately wanted to grab and throw over the cliff. He brushed his thumb softly against your cheek, looking into your teary eyes as his heart beat faster. “If you keep getting involved with me like this, you’re going to get hurt, y/n. I think I might have a bit of curse on me” He tried to joke, but you saw past the slight smile.

“Then we’ll let that be my lesson” you say sternly, reaching a delicate hand to hold onto his wrist as you stayed close to him. “Alright, fine. You win, princess” He sighed, before letting go of you and moving back down to where he was sitting, looking back at you as an unspoken invitation to join him.

you padded over to where he was, shivering slightly as the night wore on, the stone cold against your skin. His eyes were on you, seeing the shiver on your skin from the cold as you tugged a little on the sheer sleeves from the woven top you wore.

“You cold?” He asked, observing your shivering form. You looked at him, shrugging a little, trying not to seem needy or like you were disturbing the newfound peace. He smirked a little, offering you the nearly empty bottle.

You made a face at that. “No thanks. I’m not much for drinking” you look back down at your lap, fiddling with the little pearls hanging from your loincloth.

“Have you ever tried it?” He asked, not necessarily pushing, but definitely holding a teasing tone over you. You shook your head no.

He leaned back, snickering a little bit as he closed his eyes, enjoying the breeze on his flushed skin. “Fuck..” He muttered under his breath, opening his eyes to quickly look at you before focusing back on the water beneath them.

“what?” you ask, furrowing your brows in slight confusion. “you’re just so fucking innocent. Like, shielded or something” He smirked, shaking his head slightly. You scoffed a little at that, your lips pouty again. “what, so now i’m not interesting because I haven’t had any messed up traumatic stories?” you crossed your arms as you looked at him.

“Never said that” He replied, still not looking at you. “Then what are you trying to imply with that?” He licked his teeth before looking at you with another smirk, his fangs momentarily on display. “You’re too trusting. Always looking out for everyone else’s well-being before your own. You walk around like some sort of Angel, y/n.” He used a human term, something he did often. You knew one of the few things he bonded over with his dad was studying the language.

“You say that like it’s an insult” You quip back, rubbing your arms for warmth. “Because it is.” He replied, eyes scanning over you. “You’re so naive sometimes that it hurts just looking at. Letting people walk all over you. You deserve better than everything that’s been surrounding us.”

You tried not to let his words bother you, but he really could be so mean sometimes, wether it was intentional or not. Your eyes drift down to the bottle in his lap, feeling a sudden impulse within you as you reach out your hand for it. “give me that”

“what?” he raised a brow, looking at you with a mix of surprise and amusement. “you want a drink?”

“Yes, I do. Now are you gonna share or am I too innocent for even a sip?” you say, your look unwavering.

“Well then” He chuckled, passing the bottle over to you, his eyes never leaving yours. “Go on then. Take a sip.”

You continued holding eye contact with him as you bring the cold bottle to your plump, pink lips, taking a swig before grimacing at the taste, a drop trickling down your chin. “Eywa” you muttered under your breath, the liquid leaving a terrible burn down your throat.

“Fuck, you’re cute” He said, reaching out to wipe off the droplet and licking it off his thumb. A small smile played on his lips. “don’t ever get used to that shit”

“What? It’s totally fine! I hardly even tasted it” You try to assure, taking another sip before practically gagging as the liquid hit your tongue

“yeah, you’re a fucking liar” He laughed softly, reaching out to take the bottle back from you. “we should’ve gotten you something nicer as a first taste. I would’ve mixed it up with that coconut water shit you like” He screwed the lid back on after finishing off the last bit of the bottle.

“you know, you swear a lot” you say, your voice a little more wavered now with the alcohol. He turned away from you, trying not to break into a grin at the slight slurring of your voice. “And alcohol is gross. I stand by what I said earlier” you say, crossing your arms as if to prove a point.

“Good” He replied, smiling at you as he turned his body more to face you, sitting a little closer as he felt the alcohol in his system too, allowing him to feel more comfortable and less of the constant dread and anxiety in his stomach. “Means you’re not used to it.”

“Course I’m not used to it! You said it yourself I’m all naive and innocent” you say in a mocking tone, rolling your eyes at that. He broke into another snicker at that. “you’re so fucking cute when you’re drunk” He whispered, chuckling softly as he leaned in closer to you, his breath fanning across your cheek. “You know, Ive always kinda wanted to see you like this”

You giggle a little, your cheeks flushing from both the alcohol and his comment. “what? drunk?” You ask, lazily tilting your head to look straight at him, your curls becoming messier from the breeze, a few stray pieces falling over your eyes. “Yeah” He laughed, brushing a lock of hair away from your blushing cheek. “mm sounds like you might have a bit of a corruption kink, Lo” you teased, surprising both of you with your unusually bold words.

“Maybe you’re not so wrong about that” He confessed, half joking before continuing “I guess I have a bit of a thing for girls like you. All sweet and gentle. Or more like.. just you” his face has gone a little more serious, looking over your features with an almost predatory gaze.

“and here I thought you were asking me to stay away” you lightly tease, acting like his words from earlier didn’t have an effect on you. “I did, and I meant it. You’re too good for me” He leaned down, his lips almost hovering above yours. “But it’s hard to stay true to that, when you’re sat all cute and flustered ‘cause of me”

Your breath hitches in your throat at the sudden close proximity, leaning in closer to him as you look up at him with that same wide-eyed look that drove him crazy, your lips plump and slightly wet from the alcohol still. “i’m tired of you pushing me away because you think it’s the right thing to do, Lo’ak. S’annoying” you drunkenly mumble, trying to keep yourself from getting too dizzy.

“Well, fuck.” He cursed under his breath, his eyes trailing down to your lips as he gave into the temptation. “maybe it’s time I stop pushing you away then” he whispered, before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft, gentle kiss. You smile against his lips, feeling your chest bubble with excitement as your dainty fingertips come to rest on his chest.

You pulled back a little, a smile on your face as you leaned your forehead against his. “Am i making you feel better?” you ask, prompting him to let out a laugh. “that’s what you’re thinking about?” He teased, leaning in to give you another quick peck. “yeah, sweetness, you’re making me feel better” He murmured, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you closer to him, his other hand burying itself in your curls as he deepened the kiss.

“you taste so god damn sweet, y/n” he groaned, his tongue licking its way into your mouth, practically moaning at the flavour of your lips. You whimpered at his words, desperately trying to keep up with him, shifting til you’re practically in his lap.

Reluctantly, he pulls away and breaks the kiss, gazing down at you with pure lust and adoration in his golden eyes. “You ever let anyone touch you?” he breathed out, his hand holding you close by the back of your neck, your palms still resting on his chest for stability as you shook your head no. “Good” He grinned, his fangs on display as he reached up your back to untie the strings holding your top together.

As he revealed more of your skin, his touch became more possessive and hungry. “i’m gonna make you feel so good, baby.” he growled against your skin, dipping his head down to lick and suck at your neck, tilting your jaw back with his hand to have better access. “you believe me?”

“yes, Lo’ak” you breathed out, your skin feeling hot as you trailed a hand to fist his braided hair. “That’s my girl” he mumbled, his hand moving up to cup your breast, squeezing roughly at the flesh as you let out a whimper. “So fuckin perfect for me”

You moaned softly at the praises, enjoying the feel of his hands on your body as you cup his face and bring his lips back up to yours, desperate to taste him again. He shoved his tongue in your mouth, his hand creeping down your back before untying the strings holding your loincloth together. “lift your hips for me, mama” he murmured against your lips, instantly taking it off and flinging it away once you did. He slowly slid his hand up your thigh, teasingly running his fingers through your folds before letting out a groan. “Eywa, you’re so wet for me”

you gasp softly at the feel of his fingers, leaning your forehead against his as he probed at your opening, before shoving two fingers in, drawing out a yelp from you. “Lo’ak!” you squeal, closing your eyes in pleasure. “fuck, do that again, sweet girl” he groaned, plunging his fingers in and out of you, desperate to hear more of your pretty noises.

you whined and clawed at his shoulders, not used to the feeling of someone else touching you there, soaking it all in as your walls fluttered against his digits. he curled his fingers inside you, watching you nearly unravel in front of him before adding his thumb to rub quick circles into your clit. “oh! Lo’ak! L-Lo! f-fuck!” he smirked as you cursed, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. He thrusted his fingers deeper, pushing faster, seeking out your sweet spot before massaging it with every thrust. You whimpered when you felt his fingertips grazing the spongy spot inside you.

“that’s it mama. gonna cum for me?” He sucked a bruise in your neck, his fangs grazing the skin as he resisted the urge to properly mark you here and now.

“y-yes! mhm!” You moaned, your pussy tightening around his fingers before you let go, crying out his name as you hide your face in his neck.

He slowly pulled his fingers out, shushing your whimpers before flipping you over, your bodies still dangerously close to the ledge, which suddenly just added to thrill of it for you. His breath was heavy as he leaned back down to kiss you, his arm resting on the ground beside your face, almost shielding you in while his other makes quick work to untie his cloth and throw is aside. You looked at him with a dazed expression, taking the time to admire his face and features, feeling your heart skip a beat when his eyes met yours again.

He smiled down at you, brushing his thumb over your lip sweetly, but it seemed like you had other ideas. Your pink tongue darted out to lick the digit and take it in your mouth, making his dick instantly harder, if that was even possible. He groaned at the feeling, beginning to grind his hips against yours, his cock freely gliding through your folds. “Fuck, mama, you’re making it hard to think straight” he cursed, looking down at your wet pussy dripping slick all over him.

“Then don’t” You whined, squirming slightly beneath him from the teasing, feeling your arousal grow as you looked up at him with a pleading expression. “Lo’ak, please.” You whispered, bringing your hands up to wrap around his neck, bringing him closer to you as you pressed sweet kisses along his face, a contrast to the sinful acts you were doing.

Taking your pleas as a sign of consent, he lined himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly as he let out a growl at your tightness. “Oh, fuck!” He groaned, his head dropping to rest on your shoulder. “fuck mama, you’re so tight. This pussy was made f’me” He pushed himself all the way in, lifting his head back up to look at your face, a hand reaching up to cup your cheek. you had a look of pure bliss on your face, your eyes screwed shut as you adjust to his size, unintentionally holding your breath.

“breathe for me, baby. breathe” He whispered, pressing a sloppy kiss to your cheek before he began to slowly rock his hips into yours. “Lo’ak” you whimpered, clawing at his shoulders. “I know. S’okay, i’ve got you.” he groaned, his voice low, making you feel more butterflies in your stomach as you listened to every word he spoke. “feels so good” you whine out, panting against his lips. He smiled at you, kissing you hotly before pulling away again, looking down to where you were connected.

He couldn’t help but moan at the sight, speeding up his thrusts as he rutted against you, watching your pussy clamp down on him. “Eywa, you’re such a sight” he grunted, looking up at your face as he pushed his cock deeper inside of you, watching your jaw drop out of pleasure. “gonna keep the mental image of you like this forever, princess. all fucked out like this, all ‘cause of me” He dipped his head back down to your neck, trailing kisses down your collarbones and lower, squeezing your breast with his hand while beginning to lap at it with his tongue.

you couldn’t respond, hardly thinking as he fucked every thought out of you, your back arching off the ground as you whined and moaned, clinging to him as he pounded into your pussy. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding your movements as he took clear control. “Taking it so well for me, sweet girl”

He angled his hips in a way to hit your sweet spot again, letting go of your nipple with a pop as he moved to the other one, leaving light bite marks along it.

“L-Lo’ak, m’close” you whimper, your eyes still screwed shut as you feel his tongue licking and tracing at your breasts, your chest covered in bite marks. “yeah? let me feel it. cum f’me, cum all over me. be a good girl” he muttered the filth against your skin, trailing his tongue back up to your neck, his fangs grazing over it again as he planned out the spot to mark you. “wanna feel you shake against me, y/n. all around my dick. you won’t let me down, yeah?” He whispered in your ear, thrusting faster as he felt his abdomen tighten, knowing he was close but holding back til he got you there first.

“mm y-yes, yes Lo” you breathed out, whining and gasping as you felt your thighs shake, your pussy tightening around him before you reached your high, tightening your legs around his waist “ohhh fuuuuck!” you cry out, not caring about how loud you were being as he fucked you through it.

“shit! fuck, mama, where do you want it?” he strained, biting his bottom lip to try and hold back as his hips sputtered. you looked up at him, your lips swollen from his kisses and face slightly dewy as you open your mouth, indicating it for him. “Eywa, help me” he muttered, groaning at the implication as he traced your perfect lips with his finger before pressing a rough kiss to them.

Once he was on the verge of climax, he quickly pulled out, cupping your face with a shaky hand as you sat up on your knees for him. He aligned his dick to rest on your lips as he pumped his cock, before throwing his head back and cumming in your mouth with a groan. His hand brushed through your hair, looking down at you before pulling his hips away from you and kneeling down with you, his free hand still cupping your cheek. He wiped the little dribble of his cum off your lip, smiling at you adoringly, whispering “so fucking pretty” before leaning in to kiss you again.

you hum contently, smiling once he pulls away. you pressed a quick kiss to his cheek, making him let out a laugh at your sweetness even after doing something so filthy. “c’mere” he murmurs, leaning back against the cliff wall as he raises his arm for you. you crawl over, laying down on his chest and nuzzling into him with your face in his neck, closing your eyes as you listen to the sound of the waves below you.

#avatar #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #lo’ak x reader #lo’ak smut #lo’ak x metkayina!reader #lo’ak x fem!reader #lo’ak sully #avatar smut #divider by cafekitsune

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frantic-fiction · 3 months

Text

I'll Find My Way Back to You

(Can't find source of pic if it's yours let me know)

Astarion x GN!Reader

Prompt: A century after Tav passes Astarion comes across an artist who is oddly familiar and paints moments that seemed to be pulled straight from Astarion's life.

Thank you to @justporo for letting me use their idea. Go show them some love.

Warnings: Tav's death, brief mention of s*icide, angst with a happy ending

Word Count: 4.6k (Oops kinda went overboard)

Masterlist

“There’s no world I wish to live in without you,”

“My dear Astarion, we will find our way back to each other. This is not the end.”

Over a century has passed—a long, lonely century without Tav by his side. Astarion doesn’t understand how he’s endured, not with the void in his chest that appeared the moment he laid them to rest. The absence of his person, his love, his Tav, has left Astarion once again alone.

For nearly a decade, he found himself trapped in a state of near-catatonia, a prisoner of time within their empty home. He wasted away, the days blending into one another, each marked by a silent ache in his chest—the void left by Tav’s departure. Tears soaked into the earth of the carefully tended grave, adorned with vibrant flowers from Tav’s garden. He often contemplated surrendering to the sun’s embrace, letting its rays turn his existence to ash for a semblance of peace.

He yearned to end the pain, yet he refrained. He made a promise whispered with heavy hearts and painful sobs—a promise that forced them to confront the harsh reality that Tav would always leave first. Instead of embracing the end, Astarion wasted away, a ghost of his former self, yearning for the return of his love. Change arrived when Tav visited him in a dream; the details were blurry, but Tav’s beautiful smile was etched in memory. The sweet words in that dream eluded him, yet upon waking, a faint lightness settled within him. Astarion graced the night with a flicker of energy for the first time since Tav’s passing.

Tav would have wished for him to move on. They would have wanted him to live. The stagnant life he clung to wasn’t what Tav would want for him. So that day, Astarion gathered his essentials into a bag and set forth as soon as the sun dipped below the horizon. Only momentarily stopping to bid his love a final, tearful farewell. Since that moment, he hasn’t stopped moving.

Astarion believed Tav would take pride in the life he’s built—the good he’s accomplished over the many years. He traversed all over Faerun, from Waterdeep to Skull Crag, never lingering in one place for too long. He wasn’t the hero Tav was, but he aided towns against monsters, dispatched goblins, and took odd jobs to help however he could. Throughout his travels, he dedicated most of his time to sharing stories of Tav, ensuring their memory lived on. When he first heard the bards’ songs recounting the Hero of Baldur’s Gate, he knew he had succeeded. Now, you can’t sit in a tavern without hearing tales and melodies about Tav.

Every day, he longed for Tav to be by his side. He yearned to feel their soft skin, experience their tender kisses, and sense their warm arms encircling his waist—the echo of their laughter dancing in his ears. He missed every aspect of Tav and would do anything to see them again. Yet, the world ran out of miracles for him. Instead, he learned with time to cope, to come to terms with their absence, and keep them close to his heart.

***

Astarion traverses the dusty cobblestone of Wyrm’s Crossing and finds himself back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate—a city he’s consciously avoided for most of the century. It’s a place drenched in memories from his past life with Cazador, but mostly, the streets seem to be haunted by the presence of Tav.

His return to Baldur’s Gate remains shrouded in mystery. All he can discern is that he awoke one day in Daggerford, gripped by an inexplicable yearning to revisit the city. A compelling force tugging him down the Sword Coast, Astarion initially dismissed it as mere homesickness, scoffing at the notion. Yet, the persistent thought lingered, infesting his mind until he could no longer ignore the instinct to return.

The city remains strikingly unaltered despite the passage of time and the trials it endured. The same piss-stained cobblestone, alleyways cluttered with remnants of urban life, and a diverse array of inhabitants navigating the night. It’s an unsettling constant, especially juxtaposed against the transformation of Astarion’s existence.

Wandering through the back alleys and side streets, Astarion meanders aimlessly. Occasionally, a sight triggers memories, evoking a lump in his throat. The Elfsong Tavern, once familiar, now bears a different name and identity, a formal establishment concealing the echoes of nights spent in Tav’s comforting embrace. Bloomride Park, the graveyard, and the docks—all weave together, painting a vivid tapestry of Tav’s omnipresence.

Amidst the tumult of emotions, Astarion grapples with why he subjected himself to this emotional turmoil. The urge to retreat, to flee Baldur’s Gate before the dawn breaks, lingers within him. Yet, the itch persists, buried deep within his bones, propelling him forward. He silently promises himself the night to wander the city, and by this time tomorrow, he will be on his way to another town for another adventure.

Venturing into a dim, isolated street, Astarion observes a solitary lamplight spilling its soft glow from a store window. Peering through, he discovers a small art studio. Within, a graceful elf seems to dance with a paintbrush, each stroke deliberate yet flowing. Like a harpie song, Astarion is mesmerized and utterly captivated. He watches on silently, observing the elves happily consumed with their work. It gives him a wave of nostalgia, moments of watching Tav as they painted, unaware he was watching from the door. Astarion could almost hear the sweet hums that filled the room between brush strokes.

Then he freezes, gaze snapping to the paintings that adorn the studio, scattered reflections of his life. Images of Karlach, Shadowheart, and all the others grace the space. However, it’s the depictions of himself that seize his breath. Compelled by an unseen force, Astarion walks right into the studio. In a far corner, he sees an intimate portrayal—an embrace that resonates with familiarity.

The bell rings, and you break from your artistic trance. Startled, you look up, and there stands the pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves. Startled, you look up, and there stands a pale elf in the doorway—the hero of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion—the man who has clouded your dreams for as long as memory serves.

The dreams began as mere fragments—white curls, sharp teeth, delicate hands. Gradually, they evolved into more vivid scenes—muffled conversations by a campfire, laughter and gentle shoves, and stolen kisses between bed sheets—private moments of a stranger, a byproduct of an active imagination intertwined with an elven crush. Or at least that was what your mother would say. Now, the subject of those dreams stands before you.

Astarion, surrounded by the art that mirrors his life, fixates on a miniature portrait. The details are hazy, yet he recalls the campfire, the desperation in his gaze, and a significant confession followed by an embrace.

You pick up a fallen brush with a trembling hand, placing it in a water cup. Asterion was just as breathtakingly beautiful as your dream portrayed, but to see him in person has your heart hammering in your chest and your breath quickening with nerves. Wiping paint-covered hands on your smock, you took a deep breath and gathered the courage to approach Astarion.

Staring at the portrait, you utter quietly, “This one’s my favorite. Though I wish I could have captured the others’ images better.”

“Tav.”

“I’m sorry?”

“The person you painted. My partner Tav, they used to paint too,” Astarion’s voice carries the weight of unspoken emotions.

“Oh, yes. They were the leader of your group, if I remember correctly. I’m sorry for your loss.”

Astarion remains silent, the canvas now a source of unbearable memories. He moves through the studio, examining the art up close. It’s weird to have your muse perusing around your gallery. It’s embarrassing to have Astarion see just how many pieces have been dedicated to him. What do you do at this point? Should you follow him, tell him about each piece and the dreams behind them? No, that seems pretentious, so you retreat to the canvas you’ve been working on for the better part of the week.

This piece was different—a symbol rather than a person or scene. Rings of unknown runes fan out in jagged edges, evoking a sense of beauty tinged with profound sadness. It disturbed you to your core, but you needed to paint it. It’s how it always goes. Once a dream pops into your head, whether it’s a scene, a person, or a symbol, it refuses to leave until you’ve laid it on a canvas. Picking up the brush, you dip it back into the red paint and continue to bolden the lines.

“Who are you?” Astarion’s voice is right behind you; you jump, knocking a pot of paint over. Cursing softly, you quickly right the pot, attempting to salvage the spilled paint. Paint isn’t cheap, and in your non-upper-class circumstances, every drop is precious.

“Oh, I’m sorry; I have been very rude,” you offer your name. “I, of course, already know you, Astarion. It’s hard not to come across the tales of the heroes of Baldur’s Gate, but I guess—” Your rambling trails off pathetically as something changes in Astarion. There’s tension in his shoulders, a coldness in his eyes. Nibbling on your bottom lip, you nervously play with a loose thread on the smock.

Astarion scrutinizes you with a piercing gaze, his eyes lingering on your face as if searching for hidden truths. The air becomes taut, charged with an almost palpable intensity. Then, as if propelled by an unseen force, he reacts like a tightly wound rubber band snapping. Reaching out, he harshly pulls you to him, bearing his teeth at you. Your stomach drops, shocked by the aggression.

“Have you been following me? Stalking me?” His voice carries a storm of anger, his grip on your shoulders unyielding, the coldness of his touch akin to ice piercing through the fabric of your being. “Don’t lie to me because I’ve shown one person that fucking scar, and I buried them.”

Your heart races, fear coursing through your veins as you whimper a response, tears welling up in your eyes. “I-I don’t know, I’m sorry,”

“Don’t lie!”

“Please, I’m so, so sorry. I don’t know; I have dreams; I don’t know why, b-but I dream of you,” your voice falters, and your vulnerability is laid bare. “I dream of you, your friends, and places I’ve never been. I’m sorry, I’ll stop, I promise.”

As abruptly as his hands seized you, they vanished, leaving you stumbling to your knees, unable to contain the torrent of tears streaming down your face. Curling in on yourself, you can’t stop the cries of apologies and promises of never picking up a brush again, of burning every last piece in the room.

Astarion looks down at you, his expression shifting from anger to a complex amalgamation of horror and something else—perhaps realization. Stepping away, he leaves you rooted to the spot. Your gaze fixed blankly out the window. Odd and conflicting emotions swirl within you—fear, confusion, longing?—all clashing fiercely. Amidst the tumult, one thought emerges with undeniable clarity—this won’t be the last time you see Astarion.

Astarion’s breaths come in ragged gasps as he runs through the barren streets, escaping the grasp of the haunting memories that threaten to consume him. His thoughts are a raging storm, and he pays no heed to the bewildered faces of those he rudely pushes past. The town of Rivington is a blur as he sprints through it, a desperate escape, picking a direction and refusing to stop until his body aches, halting only when the sun begins its ascent above the horizon.

In his frantic need to run, there was no consideration for shelter from the sun’s relentless rays. Mercifully, he stumbles upon an abandoned cave. Dry, dusty, and shrouded in darkness, it becomes his refuge. In a corner, he sinks slowly against the cool, rough wall to the ground, seeking solace in the obscurity.

Astarion pulls his knee to his chest, pressing his forehead against his crossed arms. Shaking and shivering, a stark contrast to the bitter summer heat enveloping the cave, he clings to his vulnerability. Eyes shut tight, jaw clenched, fingernails dig deep into his arms as if attempting to anchor himself in the reality that threatens to crumble around him.

Desperation claws at him, and he yearns for Tav. The desire to feel Tav’s warm embrace, hands crossing over his chest, pulling him close, torments him. He longs for the soft whispers of love and the gentle press of lips. Astarion can’t navigate this without Tav. He’s a mess, barely holding on, living each agonizing day, acutely aware that the best part of him is gone, and he can do nothing to reclaim it.

The cruelty of encountering such intimate moments from his past life with Tav wounds him deeply. These were moments meant for him and Tav alone. Realizing that a stranger could capture those cherished memories intended for one person alone turns his stomach.

Anger becomes a conduit for his overwhelming emotions, and the terrified look on the artist’s face is etched in his mind, an indelible scar on his conscience. Shame burns within him, a searing reminder of the boundaries he violated. Physically assaulting someone in their own space—what would Tav think of him now?

The artist adds another layer to Astarion’s confusion. The familiarity is uncanny—the excited calf raises, the almost-stumbles afterward, the nervous lip biting, puffed cheeks during deep concentration, and the mindless dancing when no one is watching. Every little thing the artist did mirrored Tav, and with all his memories physically displayed, Asterion finds himself lost in a sea of confusion. Why does this stranger resemble his love so deeply?

The bards’ tales of soulmates and reincarnation, once dismissed as mere children’s stories and fiction, now claw at the edges of Astarion’s consciousness. What if? What if Tav found their way back to him? Weirder things have happened in his long life, and the possibility plants a seed of hope within him.

Yet, he forcefully suppresses that hope. It won’t serve him, not now. Instead, he resolves to learn more. By nightfall, he returns to the city, catching the first boat to Waterdeep. After a day and some change, he stands outside the Wizards’ tower, resentment simmering as he contemplates turning to Gale, his best chance at answers.

A groan escapes Astarion as he hangs his head, and a series of knocks echo on the thick wooden door. “This better be worth it…”

The door swings open on its own into a dimly lit foyer. Astarion follows a familiar path, the cool air and faint scent of ancient tomes embracing him. He ascends the staircase with nostalgia and reluctance, each step echoing the countless times Tav and himself sought knowledge and assistance within these walls.

As he pushes open the study door, a scene unfolds before him. Gale is hunched over a worn scroll, graying hair ruffled, and a small pair of reading glasses set on the tip of his nose. The room is bathed in the soft glow of candlelight, creating an intimate ambiance. Notes adorn the margins, evidence of Gale’s ceaseless quest for understanding.

Gale looks up, a broad, warm smile gracing his features, and Astarion is momentarily transported back to the times when this sage was only a joke he poked fun at across camp. Removing his reading glasses, Gale pushes up from his desk, an air of welcoming familiarity enveloping the room.

“Well, look who the tressym dragged in. How are you, Astarion?”

Astarion stiffens as he is pulled into a spontaneous hug by Gale. The embrace is both unexpected and oddly comforting, a physical manifestation of the genuine camaraderie they’ve shared through the years. Astarion, unaccustomed to such displays of affection, awkwardly pats Gale’s back before gently pulling away.

“I’m afraid I’ve been better.”

Gale’s eyes convey concern and understanding as he gestures for Astarion to sit. The worn chair creaks under the weight of memories and the weightier burden of Astarion’s troubled soul.

“Then sit down, my friend, and tell me how I can help.”

***

Days of tireless research and a network of favors exchanged between magical acquaintances have led them to a glimmer of hope. Though not expansive, the discovery hints at the possibility that souls entwined so tightly may have a magnetic pull toward each other. A pull is so strong that souls can find each other in different lifetimes. Tales have described soulmates experiencing memories from previous lifetimes together, but they were vague at best. The specific remains elusive, shrouded in mystery, yet it’s enough to kindle a spark of hope within Astarion’s lonely heart.

Gale, ever the bore, offers a gentle reminder, “Now, just remember, if you try to force feelings before—”

“I would never!” Astarion’s retort carries a venomous edge, an unspoken warning to watch his following words carefully. Gale raises his hands in defense.

“My point is the brain is a prickly thing. It’s best not to rush anything it’s not ready for.”

“Yes, yes, you have said this five times already. Would you please activate the portal? I have an apology to make.”

Anticipation hums in the air, a palpable energy that courses through Astarion. A fleeting smile graces his lips, and for a moment, the weight of his grief is replaced by a glimmer of life.

Looking at Astarion with a fondness born of shared trials, Gale responds, “Of course, Astarion.”

With a confident shake of his wrist, he activates the magical circle, and the room is bathed in a radiant glow of bright runes, their purple luminescence dancing in the semi-darkness.

Astarion steps toward the portal, his heart pulsating with trepidation and newfound hope. However, before crossing the threshold, he turns around to face Gale, clapping him on the shoulder.

“Thank you, Gale. I will not forget this.”

“It was my pleasure. Now, I expect to meet this lovely artist sooner rather than later.” Gale’s parting words hang in the air, infused with the hope of rekindling a connection beyond the realms of understanding.

Back in the heart of Baldur’s Gate, Astarion swiftly navigated the bustling streets, an air of anticipation accompanying him. His purpose was clear—to reach your studio and beg for your forgiveness. A brief pause along the way allowed him to acquire a small bundle of daisies, a spontaneous choice fueled by the memory of Tav’s fondness for these delicate blooms.

As Astarion approached the studio, a surge of uncertainty clawed at him. Hesitation gripped his every step, the shadow of fear etched across his features. The fear in your eyes during the last encounter was seared into his memory. Had his previous outburst irreparably damaged any chance of reconciliation? The conflicting forces of his desire to see you again and the instinct to flee wrestled within him. Yet, he pressed forward, forcing himself down the street, and there you stood.

The scene that greeted him was a chaotic masterpiece of colors. Paint adorned your cheeks and arms, a testament to the artistic fervor that consumed you. Your hair, a cascade of untamed strands, framed a face that mirrored both exhaustion and creative passion. Astarion had a sudden urge to brush the strands away and press a soft kiss to your cheek, something he often did with Tav.

Your weariness was palpable—shoulders slumped, eyes half-lidded. Perhaps, he pondered, he should postpone this encounter, allowing you the reprieve of rest. The realization that he might be the last person you wanted to see compelled Astarion to take a step back, an unspoken retreat.

But just as he moved to leave, your eyes jumped up to meet his, you froze mid-stroke, and Astarion couldn’t read your expression. He should go. Why did he think this was a good idea? He’s just about to run when you nod for him to come in. Obliging, Astarion found himself standing awkwardly within the studio; you went back to painting. Your brush danced across the canvas, applying a vibrant shade of blue in deliberate strokes. Astarion’s attempts to break the silence faltered, his words dissolving into the room’s stillness.

“What are you doing here, Astarion?” The steadiness in your voice pierced the calm. You tried to hold on to your anger for the man all week. But upon seeing him standing so lost on the street had your resolve crumbling. You can’t deny the mild excitement that fluttered through your veins upon seeing him again.

His voice, momentarily lost, found its way back. “I-I came here to apologize for last week. My behavior was deplorable, and I wish to make things right.”

A wry amusement flickered in your eyes as you evaluated the bouquet, now slightly worse for wear under his tight grip. “And you believe a bundle of broken daisies would win you my forgiveness?”

Astarion, caught off guard, looked down at the bruised bouquet. “Um…well, I was hoping for roses, but they were fresh out.”

A snort escaped you as you put down your paintbrush and approached him. A tentative touch on his forearm transferred the flowers from his grasp to yours, eliciting a shiver down his spine. The longing to reach out is strong, but Astarion holds still as you retreat.

Intently studying the daisies, you began to divide the bundle into two piles. Astarion watched silently, recognizing echoes of Tav’s essence reflected in your actions. While understanding that you were not Tav, the profound sorrow gripping his heart seemed to ease in your presence.

“Half,” you declared suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“Half of the daisies survived.”

“And where does that leave us?”

With a theatrical flair, you pondered the question, pacing the room. “That, good sir, is the question. What is my forgiveness worth? I did luck out; daisies are my favorite, so you’re a step farther than roses would have gotten you.”

Astarion, grasping the playful undertone, decided to play along. With a hand on his hips and a wicked smirk, he responded, “Well, I am a pretty lucky man. Now, please, I beg, what more can I do to gain your forgiveness?”

You hummed softly, tapping your chin. You keep Astarion in suspense for a moment before you suddenly turn to the man. “How about…I get dressed, you take me out to dinner, and we’ll go from there?”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” The agreement hung in the air, a hope for something more lingering.

***

The dinner evolved into an evening stroll, a seamless transition from pleasant chatter to playful banter. It was an unexpected evening, but the time spent with Astarion was so easy, so familiar you didn’t want it to end. Reading about the saviors of Baldur’s Gate was intriguing, and dreaming of a vampiric elf held its allure, but nothing compared to the tangible presence of the real Astarion.

Astarion embodied the epitome of perfection – handsome, intelligent, and endowed with a wit that had you giggling all night. He was the quintessential gentleman, the embodiment of every mother’s hopeful wish for their child.

What started as a single date quickly snowballed into a series of enchanting encounters – one date led to two, then five, until you found yourself drawn into his orbit every week. The pace was exhilarating, and being around Astarion felt like being charged with an electric current. It was not just addictive; it was a whirlwind of happiness, and you couldn’t help but revel in it.

If one indulged in whimsical tales, the idea that Astarion might be your soulmate would have crossed your mind. His ability to read you so intimately sometimes felt like he delved into the depths of your mind.

The dreams persisted, evolving into a kaleidoscope of memories that intertwined your moments with Astarion and a phantom era where someone else shared his company. Astarion, at times, would cast glances at you as you transferred another dream to canvas, an anticipation lingering in his eyes. Despite his attempts, he couldn’t veil the disappointment when the visions resulted in nothing more than another painting adorning the wall.

Then, it occurred on a serene spring day, three years since Astarion first entered your studio. The sun had yet to set, and you found solace curled up with Astarion. Limbs tangled, chests pressed together, hands intertwined – a tableau of intimate connection. His cold nose nestled against the crook of your neck, his white curls playfully tickling your nose.

Behind your closed eyelids, soft images of a forest clearing unfolded – Astarion shirtless, beckoning you towards him. Something clicked, and suddenly, the foreign memories that greeted you each night became a mosaic of your own experiences. The floodgates opened, overwhelming you with a lifetime of moments – kisses beneath the stars, laughter resonating around a campfire, and heart-stopping close calls with death.

Astarion often spoke of Tav, a robust and kind soul who played a pivotal role in shaping him. He wouldn’t be who he is today without them. You now knew a bit better; yes, you had nudged him along the way, but his growth was his own, and you couldn’t be more proud. To think of the years he spent without you, the grief he must have had to push through. If the roles were reversed, you don’t believe you would have been strong enough to keep going.

Startled from his slumber, Astarion found your body descending upon his, your hand meeting his chest with firm slaps. “Stop you, little gremlin.” Groggily, he attempted to restrain you in a tender embrace. He was met with your swift departure from his lap. He heard the patter of your feet retreating from the bed.

“You are a bastard, Astarion!”

Fully alert and by your side instantly, “What did I do, my sweet?”

Worry etched into every crease of his face as he cupped your jaw, looking frantically into your eyes. You intertwined your fingers with his, your other hand reaching out to caress the skin of his hip. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Your voice is barely above a whisper.

Astarion scrutinized your face, his eyes delving deep into yours. The faintest furrow of his brows betrayed his thoughts. As if following an unspoken script, he pulled you in by the waist, foreheads gently meeting.

Glistening with unshed tears, Astarion whispered, “You remember?” His voice trembled.

“Yes… maybe it’s all still tangled. But yes, I remember Tav – well, I remember us.”

Astarion’s smile widened, his fangs peeking out, and his lips met yours in a heated kiss spinning the two of you around the room. It was a slow dance of lips as if Astarion had all the time in the cosmos to savor this moment. While you could quickly lose yourself in the embrace, you were privy to all his subtle tricks. You turned your face when he attempted to draw you back into the kiss.

“Gods, Astarion, for three years, you knew and never said anything. I’ve painted you for almost as long as I could wield a brush, and for three years, you knew why!” Another slap graced his chest, and tears trickled down your cheeks, eagerly wiped away by his thumbs.

“I wanted to, my love. The moment I realized I wanted to. But this couldn’t be rushed; you can’t rush the mind.”

“Star, I’m so sorry I took so long,”

“No, stop; you took as long as you needed to return to me.” His forehead rests against yours once more, and the room stands still for a moment. “What matters is you’re here, in my arms, and I’m not letting go anytime soon.”

A choked sob mingled with a chuckle, and you nuzzled closer into Astarion, hiding your face into his neck. “Gods, I love you, Astarion.”

“And I love you.”

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Okay loves, let me know what you think. I've been working on this for over a week and still find some sections I'm not all that happy with, but I want to move on to other pieces. Any and every interaction makes my day.

Taglist: heartfully10, ayselluna

#astarion x reader #astarion x tav #bg3 #reader insert #astarion imagine #bg3 astarion #astarion ancunin #astarion #fanfic #writing #soulmates #soulmate au #reincarnation #frantic fiction

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divinesangel · 23 days

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— 𝐪𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐞

ps. there's a mini announcement on personal readings at the end of the post! so if you're interested in getting a reading from me, don't miss it out! ♡

— 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞!

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟏

your soulmate is a compassionate soul. they've always felt a deep calling to be empathetic and help others. their level of emotional sensitivity is rare in today's world, and they harness that energy to find clarity and purpose in life. i also see that this person can be very spiritual, finding meaning in everything and believing that things happen for a reason. i also see them being the type of person to care a lot about you and always trying to make sure that you're okay.

on the other hand, i can also see that this person takes their relationships very seriously. when they commit to something, they are fully invested. in matters of love, they're not the type to engage in casual flings or without a clear direction. they've experienced several heartbreaks in their love life because of this, perhaps encountering individuals who didn't take them seriously or neglected the relationship due to lack of commitment. they simply weren't on the same page or at the same level, as your soulmate is someone who dates with the intention of marriage.

this person is also someone strategic and knows how to deal with others. they are intuitive while also having a keen understanding of people based on how they handle themselves and their actions. they also love to travel and likely someone who, by the time you meet them, has already visited many countries and will always talk to you about their travels and experiences. it seems that their job is what keeps them constantly traveling and visiting new places. you're going to bring a lot of peace of mind to this person and be great company, finally putting an end to their years of loneliness.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟐

the first thing that came to mind is that perhaps this person works in something related to law. it seems like they hold a fairly significant profession, and they're probably in a higher rank or position, which means they carry a lot of responsibility on their shoulders. this person has been through a lot, has had many experiences, and knows very well how the world works and what needs to be done to get to wherever you want to be. because of this, they've had to learn from a very young age that they must protect themselves and be always on guard to prevent others from getting too close or try to take advantage of them.

however, once you break through those barriers and start to get to know this person, you realize that they're actually quite open and very positive about the future. they're quite independent, and it seems like they've always been that way. i feel that much of this is because they've always been alone in all their battles and successes. it's somewhat difficult for this person to accept that others will be happy for them, that they will wish them the best, because they've been through many situations where others may have seen them as a rival or as someone who doesn't deserve what they have, when in reality, they do. it may also be that sometimes they don't feel entirely confident with their achievements and decide to keep them to themselves instead of celebrating them openly.

there's an energy in their lives regarding other people that is quite prominent. i see that they have had many problems with friendships in the past because these friendships didn't treat them entirely well, or perhaps there was a lot of negativity involved, envy, or similar. your soulmate has had to stay strong in all these circumstances and go through those disappointments of believing that someone has the best intentions for them and believing that someone was their friend when in reality, the other person thinks in a totally different way. they've had to go through a lot of negativity that has come from others, but now i see them manifesting what they desire and leading a quieter life.

when you meet them, you'll realize that this person is very good at communication and knows how to express themselves in any situation. i see that you're going to make this person very, very happy, but at the same time, you'll realize that they're someone who carries a lot of responsibilities and a heavy burden on them. this person will be able to find a kind of comfort in you because you'll know how to deal with it and how to make them feel better. it's going to be unusual for them, because they haven't experienced that type of feeling in their life, but they will gladly accept your love.

— 𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐞 𝟑

your soulmate seems to be someone who leans towards the more traditional side of things. they value romantic relationships, personal connections, and above all, building a family and having a solid marriage. family happiness and emotional fulfillment are of utmost importance to them, as they deeply cherish such relationships and the joy of a harmonious home. they're affectionate and loving, seeking that sense of completeness and emotional satisfaction in you. while others may perceive them as rigid or overly logical, they're actually quite tender and affectionate. however, this side of them is reserved only for the one they love. initially, they might come across as cold or aloof, but as you get to know them, you'll realize that this facade doesn't reflect who they truly are. they're also likely to possess excellent communication skills and can effectively communicate in any situation. once you're with them, you'll discover the immense love they have to offer and how seriously they take relationships. it's highly probable that they've held onto the idea of marriage and lifelong commitment from a young age, perhaps influenced by their parents or grandparents. there's an energy of someone much older than them, probably a grandparent, guiding them to prioritize lasting connections.

at the moment, i see them going through a period of emotional or spiritual disconnection. they might be facing a challenging time where they feel uncertain about their love life or what the future holds. they seem to be feeling quite stuck despite their efforts, but this phase is temporary and won't last forever. one of their biggest concerns is not being able to find someone who truly understands them. of course, this won't be the case once they meet you, but for now, they're waiting for a change in their life that doesn't seem to come. there's a sense of resentment within them, making them question if what they're hoping for is unattainable or unrealistic. in their mind, all they desire is someone who will be there for them emotionally. it's a type of connection they haven't been able to find with anyone else, and they're unsure of what else to do to feel that way. they long for emotional fulfillment, someone who understands their feelings and makes them feel complete, something they haven't experienced so far. they also hold onto the idea of soulmates, but they're uncertain if it's something real or just a concept from books or movies.

nevertheless, they're someone who remains consistent and stable. this may become more apparent much later because it seems they're currently laying the groundwork for their future stability. but by the time you meet, i see this person being well-established, holding a respected position in society, and commanding much more respect than they do now. they may feel somewhat emotionally empty, but that's where you come in :)

𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭

hi! it's daphne here.

i'm currently offering personal readings for €5 ($5.43) so don't hesitate to send me a private message if you're interested!

thank you for being here!

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strang3lov3 · 1 year

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strang3lov3’s masterlist

I do not give consent for anyone to copy, plagiarize, translate, or post my work elsewhere for any reason at all. Always ask permission of writers if their work sparks inspiration, and give credit where credit is due.

all fics are f!reader

Joel Miller

One shots

Lookalike - Joel finds your dirty mag and makes you get off in front of him.

Everyday I’m Shufflin’ - Joel is horrified to find out that you cannot shuffle a deck of cards, so he teaches you in a rather unorthodox way.

A Learning Process - When it rains, it pours. Shit hits the fan the first day you’re alone with your infant son, and Joel comforts you.

Tis’ But a Scratch - Too stubborn and proud to admit your mistakes or that you may need Joel’s help sometimes, Joel decides to teach you a lesson.

For Science - Joel helps to alleviate your period cramps. You know, for science.

Sleeping Beauty - Joel realizes you’re dreaming of him and wakes you up in the best way possible (his head between your thighs)

Self-Indulgent Tendencies - (dbf!joel) Joel finds you skinny dipping in his pool, and gives you two options. He can call the cops on you or he can punish you himself. You choose the latter of the two.

Phone a Friend - a story of two assholes and how they resolved their sexual tension (alternatively, Joel is sick of hearing you masturbate night after night)

Death by Flirting - five times you made Joel blush, and when he finally did it back to you.

Cup of Sugar - (dilf!neighbor!Joel) Joel catches you rifling through his belongings when you’re frantically searching for batteries after your vibrator dies.

Joyride - (dbf!joel) when your car breaks down, Joel decides to give you one of his. He just has to make sure you can handle a stick first ;)

Have your cake and eat it too - (brat tamer!joel, mean!joel, dom!joel) when you make joel bust in his favorite pair of jeans, he makes you clean your mess.

Erotic City - adult store owner! Joel helps you learn to make yourself come

Cream (horny husband!joel x reader) Joel is insatiable. He convinces you to get it on at his aunt's house on Thanksgiving. He's also got a lot of dirty Thanksgiving jokes he thought of last year that he's been saving to annoy you.

Fighting Fair - Joel doesn’t know what or who started this fucking thing, but he’s finishing it. Tonight.

Love Spell - (Sex pollen) After eating some mysterious berries, you and Joel spend a very memorable and unexpected Valentine’s Day together

Enjoy the Silence - You trespass into Joel’s house in search of some peace and quiet so you can get yourself off. Joel catches you in his bed in a compromising position.

Chevelle - (virginity loss) Joel figures out that you’re the one who hit his baby, his precious 1964 Chevrolet Chevelle. He needs you to make it right, but he doesn’t want your money

Play Stupid Games - who woulda thought you could make Joel come by playing with his nipples?

Series:

Lather (incomplete) When Joel injures his shoulder, he needs your help washing his hair and getting off 🚿🧼💦 part one, part two

Mall Rats(complete) Joel keeps track of you as you search your way through an abandoned mall. You don’t make his job easy. First stop is Victoria’s Secret Part one, part two, part three, part four, halloween special, part five part six, part seven

Brain Scramblies (complete) after sustaining a concussion, you tell Joel how you really feel about him. You don’t remember a thing the next day. Part one, part two

Roman Roy

One shots

Invisible Line- boundary after boundary is crossed when your boss is left with no choice but to share his bed with you.

Updated 04/17/2024

#the last of us #the last of us hbo #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #strang3lov3 #succession #succession x reader #succession fic #roman roy smut #roman roy x you #roman roy x reader #roman roy #Roman Roy x reader smut

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reiding-writing · 1 month

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Spencer making cold!Reader flustered? And morgan teasing

CUP OF COFFEE [ONESHOT]

/kʌp əv ˈkɒfi/

a local officer on a case you’re working on really wants to impress you, spencer reid does it without even trying.

WARNINGS: fem!reader, morgan being morgan, reader trying to be civil but ultimately failing

spencer reid x cold!reader || fluff || 2.9k || series masterlist!!

a/n: reader doesn’t actually get all that flustered but i feel like it’s more accurate this way rather than having her go into a full on fluster considering her personality-

main masterlist!!

It was always fifty-fifty when working with local police departments on a case. They either wanted absolutely nothing to do with the FBI or they would follow you and the team around like a bunch of children.

This one was the latter, and it was arguably the worse of the two.

It felt like every time you rounded a corner you had a police officer just waiting to divert all of your attention away from the case so they could ask you questions about your job, and it was starting to get really frustrating.

“Have you ever worked a case like this before?”

“Not specifically,”

“How do you know how to write a psychological profile for a type of crime you haven’t encountered before?”

“I‘ve got a PhD in Psychology-“

“What exactly is a psychological profile?”

You were starting to get really annoyed now.

You know there was no ill intent behind his questions, he looked no older than his early twenties, fresh on the scene and to the types of things the criminal world really had to offer.

He genuinely wanted to learn, but when you were trying to catch a serial killer before they had the chance to kill anybody else, you didn’t exactly have time to entertain all of his questions whilst also focusing on the profile you were trying to curate at the same time.

“You can ask me your questions after this guy is behind bars,” That was probably as nice as your request was going to get.

“Right- Sorry- I’ll stop talking now,” He pressed his lips into a tight line with a small nod as he took your words to heart.

The boy reminded you of Spencer in some ways. He was tall and disproportionately lanky, he seemed to have a never ending stream of curiosity, he dressed decently similarly, and he even made the same expressions you’ve come to recognise as a staple of Spencer’s personality.

One thing that was very different between the two though, was that Spencer knew how to take a hint.

He would’ve left you alone the second those words came out of your mouth, but instead you had now gained yourself an observer as you worked, one that was cemented by the scraping of metal chair legs on the carpet and a messenger bag hitting the floor.

You fight the urge to audibly groan at his persistent presence, closing your eyes with the silent prayer that something would call his attention out of the room so that he would leave you to work in peace.

Then there was a knock on the door.

Looks like God was on your side today.

“Come in,” You call out towards the door with an internal sigh of relief, wringing the whiteboard pen in your hands as you turn towards the door you’d specifically left closed so people like officer curious sat at the round table wouldn’t bother you.

Your relief was short lived when Morgan walked through the door, and you don’t even try to hide the groan that leaves your mouth at the look on his face as he enters. “What now?”

“Now now, that’s now way to be a good role model to your youngers now is it?” The smug look on Morgan’s face only widens as he spots the officer at the table. “I’m looking for pretty boy, can’t find him anywhere,”

You shrug as a response. “Unlike the rest of you, he knows when to leave me alone, so I haven’t seen him,”

If that wasn’t the most direct indirect way for you to say you didn’t want the officer’s presence whilst you worked you didn’t know what was.

Morgan raises an eyebrow, his smirk unwavering. “Well, we've got a lead on the case. Thought you might want to be in the loop.” He glances at the officer, then back at you.

You give him a short hum and discard the whiteboard pen on the table, having to physically raise your hand to stop the officer from following the two of you out of the room. “We need to speak privately for this, I’m sure you understand,”

“Right- Right yeah sorry- I’ll just uh- wait here then…”

You give him a short nod with your lips pressed taut into a line as you push Morgan out of the small meeting room and into the hallway, following behind him and clicking the door shut behind you.

“Got yourself a fan have you?” Morgan chuckles slightly as he watches the officer take a seat back at the table through the room’s window, his eyes on you as he tries to silently soak in every detail of the conversation through the glass.

“More like a parasite, he hasn’t left me alone for more than five minutes all day.” You groan exasperatedly as the two of you walk to a private area to have your conversation.

“Can you blame the kid? He’s probably never seen an FBI Agent in person before, he’s just excited,”

“Annoying is what he is,”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

When you return to the put-aside meeting room reserved for your profile making, there are two cups of coffee on the table, and of course, the officer is still sitting there.

His head turns up to the door as you open it, and he straightens his back in the chair. “Welcome back- I uh- I made you some coffee, I wasn’t sure how you liked it so I asked one of your team members- Two sugars right?“

He pushes the mug carefully in your direction so the drink doesn’t spill, and you walk right past it back towards the whiteboard.

“Thank you, but I don’t drink coffee in mugs used by other people, nor do I drink coffee made by an unhygienic office coffee machine,” You try your best to be civil as you shut him down.

“Ouch-” Morgan leans against the door frame with his arms crossed, shaking his head in exaggerated disapproval at your response. “Don’t be so harsh-”

You roll your eyes at Morgan’s input, turning your gaze to the now slightly embarrassed officer. “I appreciate your effort,”

“I should’ve asked you personally, I’m sorry-”

“Don’t apologise you didn’t do anything wrong, it’s fine,” You give him a small tilt of your head to hammer the fact that everything was fine home so that he didn’t completely crumple up into himself and leave you to deal with it.

“Right, sorry- I mean-” The officer sighs as he gives up talking, taking the two mugs in his hands as he stands from the table. “I’ll take these out,”

Morgan follows the boy with his eyes as he walks past to leave the room, and you slump your shoulders the second he’s out of sight.

“For God’s sake-”

“You’ve really got yourself a little shadow,” Morgan continues to revel in your misery as he steps further into the room, letting the door close behind him.

“I am two minutes away from ripping him a new asshole if he doesn’t take the hint and leave me the fuck alone,” You groan exasperatedly, dragging your palm down your face as you take a seat on the edge of the table. “I’ve barely gotten anything done because he keeps peering over my shoulder like a goddamn five year old with separation anxiety,”

You weren’t wrong in the first half of your assessment, most of the whiteboard you’d been using to write down your notes was empty despite you working on the profile for multiple hours at this point, and judging by the attitude of the poor officer you were slandering the second half of your assessment wasn’t too far off either. “You never get that frustrated with Reid,”

“How is that at all relevant to anything I’ve just said?”

“Come on, you’ve gotta be able to see the similarities here, he’s practically a carbon copy of what Reid was like when he first joined the team,” Morgan gives a short laugh as he gestures in the direction that the officer had just left in.

“Reid was just as annoying back then,”

“He’s barely changed at all-” Morgan rolls his eyes at your half-assed way of explaining why Spencer was an exception to your frustration.

“He’s changed a lot actually,” You shake your head with an impatient sigh as you lean over to grab your whiteboard pen, using it to keep your hands busy.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night,” He mirrors the way you shake your head with his own. “That boy is your kryptonite and you know it,”

“Get your ass out of this room before I cover your face in whiteboard marker penises,” You don’t refute Morgan’s claim and he knows it, standing up with a smirk and his hands raised comically in surrender as he retreats to the door.

“Yes ma’am,” He turns for the door handle with a laugh, but the door swings open before he can, and you mentally prepare yourself for that goddamn police officer to walk back into the room and continue hovering over you like a mosquito.

You don’t have to.

“Well speak of the devil,” Morgan tilts his head knowingly at you as Spencer bypasses him to enter with a cardboard holder of take out ocffee cups in hand, eyebrows furrowed slightly in confusion at why you and Morgan would be having a conversation about him without him being present.

Morgan nudges Spencer with his elbow, eyes locked on you as he starts to spill. “Little miss Ice Queen and I were just talking about-”

“There’s a possible lead in the case.” You interrupt him before he can divulge any details of your conversation. “One you would benefit from knowing about. Morgan was looking for you,”

“Oh-” Spencer gives a short nod in your direction, leaving the cups on the table to ball his hands together and then flex his fingers like a mini hand workout. “I was in the coffee shop down the block sorry,” He takes the two cups from the holder, one in each hand, and holds the one in his left out towards you.

You take the cup from him with your lips pressed into a small line, as much of a thanks as you’re going to give and as much of a thanks as he was expecting in the first place.

“They were established back in 1902 and continue to make their coffee using traditional methods rather than using a machine like most coffee shops do in the present day.” He takes a sip from his own cardboard cup after his little bit of exposition of the shop’s history and you mirror him in doing the same.

Absolutely perfect.

As to be expected from someone when the person who ordered it had an eidetic memory. And maybe a little bit better because that person was Spencer Reid. Maybe.

“I-” You’re not exactly sure what to say. Obviously a thanks would be worth voicing, but he had gone out of his way to buy you a cup of coffee, even if him remembering your order was like reciting the alphabet in his head.

“Thank you, it’s nice,” You give him a small nod through your mostly deadpanned expression as you take a second sip through the plastic lid of the cup, trying in vain to seem nonchalant about the unannounced gift that he’d brought back for you.

Morgan noticed immediately. Of course he did, because when was Morgan ever minding his own goddamn business?

“No problem,” Spencer’s face erupts in that bright smile of his, and his words get half caught in his throat as he tries to speak whilst in the middle of swallowing. “Did you know that coffee is actually a fruit despite coffee beans being called, well, beans? The coffee beans that we use to make drinkable coffee are actually the pit of coffee cherries, that grow on bushes in low-altitude tropical regions,”

You give him a small hum and a nod as an acknowledgement of you taking in the information, and Morgan laughs at the way your eyes flicker away from Spencer’s gaze rather than holding it firm like you usually would. “No coffee for me pretty boy?”

“You had a cup of coffee in your hand when I left,”

“So what? I’m stuck with the shitty police station coffee and little miss ‘I hate everyone’ gets your old fashioned fancy coffee?” Morgan’s accusation holds no malice in it whatsoever, and if his tone wasn’t enough to display that, the goddamned smirk on his face definitely was.

“I do not hate everyone, just you,” You shoot your retort at him with a roll of your eyes and a scoff.

“You wound me,” Morgan clasps his hand dramatically over his chest, pretending to stumble backwards out of pain. He knew you didn’t hate him really, no matter how much you claimed to.

“Caffeine helps increase brain functioning, which will help when curating a profile,” Spencer half points to the still mostly empty board behind you and you almost groan at the reminder of just how little progress you’ve made. “And she doesn’t like the coffee machines, so a proper cup of coffee is the next easiest option,”

You almost forget to breathe as Spencer explains his reasoning behind the coffee run. He’d remembered that tiny detail. Obviously he had, he had an eidetic memory. But he’d actually thought about it and made a conscious decision to find you a caffeine fix elsewhere in the wake of that knowledge.

“Everyone should preferably be drinking properly made coffee, but with the prices I’m not surprised people choose the cheaper option, even if they’re not getting as much caffeine per drink,” Spencer shrugs as he continues his explanation, finishing it off with another sip from his cup.

Your eyes turn up at the mention of the price. You hadn’t considered the fact that him buying you coffee actually included him buying the coffee.

“How much was it?” You glance between him and the cup in your hand as if trying to figure it out yourself based solely on the black tree printed on the cardboard, eyebrows furrowed at the idea of him spending a lot of money on two cups of coffee of all things.

“Uh,” He deliberates on whether to actually tell you, but he knows that you’ll find out one way or another so there was no real point in trying to hide it from you. “Eighteen for the both of them,”

“Eighteen dollars? You spent eighteen dollars on two cups of coffee?” He was expecting that reaction from you.

“Proportionally it’s actually relatively inexpensive considering how it’s made and the beans that are used. Some professional coffee makers charge upwards of fourteen dollars a cup,”

“And those coffee makers are absolutely fucking insane,” You stare down at your cup as you internally judge whether it was worth a whole nine dollars. It was a great cup of coffee to be sure, probably the best one you’d ever had, but nine goddamn dollars? It wasn’t even a large cup. “Nine goddamn dollars for a cup of coffee my god,”

You can see Spencer’s expression falter slightly in your peripheral vision at your outrage of the price, something that you’d definitely not intended and something you considered an easy fix as you left your cup on the table to rifle through your bag.

“You are simply something else Dr Reid I swear,” The second you pull your purse out of your bag he knows what you’re going to do, and he tries to shut you down before you can even start.

“I- You don’t- I chose to pay for it with my own money you don’t-”

You make a ‘zip’ motion across your mouth with your middle and index finger to stop him from talking as you pull out a ten dollar note and shove it into the chest pocket of his cardigan so he can’t refuse to take it from you. “Never buy me a drink that expensive again,”

“Right,” Spencer presses his lips tight into a line with a small nod, “Did it taste okay at least?”

“It was probably the best cup of coffee I’ve ever had, but that doesn’t make it not ridiculously expensive.” Spencer doesn’t even try to suppress the smile that emerges on his face at your approval, even if it was backhandedly berating him for buying it in the process.

“Cough cough lovebirds, in case you forgot, Reid still needs to be debriefed about the new lead,” You don’t even bother trying to retort to Morgan as you pick up your coffee and leave the room with Spencer happily trailing behind you.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #mgg #asks 🫶

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forever--darling · 1 year

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snga’itseng — just the beginning | neteyam x avatar!reader

summary: you are given an avatar for your birthday and end up lost and alone in the woods. the sully children bring you to the village where neytiri agrees to let you stay under one condition, you learn the omatikaya ways from her oldest son.

pairings: neteyam x avatar!reader

word count: 15.0k

warnings/notes: cursing, enemies to lovers, lo'ak x avatar!reader (slightly), mention of sky people, mention of death, perfect soldier!neteyam, protective mother neytiri

series masterlist | one of us: part one |requests are currently open for now

“When we sent the sky people back to Earth, a few of them stayed. Science guys loyal to the Na’vi. They kept to themselves away from the village to keep from causing panic to those that were left by the destruction the sky people left behind. Somehow though they reproduced any way and then there was Y/N, only a few months younger than our own son, Neteyam. From day one there was something about her, a connection to Pandora, unlike anyone I had ever seen. She studied what Grace had left behind and grew up asking any question she could about our world and the Omatikaya people. But she refrained from ever having direct contact with them, as she was and always would be one of the sky people. Isolated from the only world she ever knew, she stayed away to keep the rest of the Omatikaya clan at peace.

Then there was Spider. He was just as stuck here as Y/N was. Both were too young to be born in a place this dangerous and completely ethereal. He, unlike the slightly older girl, took to the forest, to the Omatikaya village, experiencing anything and everything he could. No one liked having him around at first, but as years passed, people became understanding and let him come and go freely. His presence, however, near what was once Home Tree and the village, didn’t stop the Omatikaya children from running off towards the old link base to find the human girl who had fallen irrevocably in love with the world she was born into. And when I mean the Omatikaya children I mean my own.”

The Na’vi say that every person is born twice. The second time is when they earn their place among the people. That was something you had learned based on the data Dr. Grace Augustine had left behind. Through the numerous journals and video logs, she kept, as well as the raw footage taken from the school that once was open to the Na’vi children for learning English. One attempt at bridging a communication divide. The scientist was completely wonderful that way, in love with the Omatikaya people and the planet of Pandora. It was more of her home than her birth planet ever had been. You never got to meet her of course. A casualty in the war against the sky people eighteen years ago. A war you never witnessed but were born into. A part of a species that was concerned with mining for Unobtainium, the answer to the economic struggles of its homeland, and destroying the village’s home to do that.

Omatikaya are pure at heart, you’re convinced, pure spirits looking to feel and have a complete connection with their world. It’s something you wished for more than anything you could feel. Something as simple as the ability to smell the fresh air or feel it on your face without an oxygen mask keeping you alive. The avatar was no longer alive and not even Ubobtainum could get that up and running again. Grace Augustine was the primary scientist behind the program that made the impossible possible — for humans to be able to walk around freely without the possibility of suffocation from the particles in the air. How?

Well, large blue bodies resembling those of the Na’vi that ultimately served as vessels. Vessels to experience life somewhat like one of the Omatikaya did. Without the money, there aren’t enough resources or scientists to keep the program running let alone create any more avatars or dream walkers, as the Omatikaya call them. The last became the great Toruk Makto and the Olo’eyktan or chief of the Omatikaya. The story is almost a legend. A legend you knew would never repeat itself. So, thus oxygen masks were the only way of survival outside of the compaction-sealed rooms left behind after the war. Living a normal life was not an option at least not for mouth breathers from a dying planet.

Except you never felt like you could be considered one of those, a human of Earth as you weren’t from there, not really. Sure by association but you didn’t have any connection to that world and you never would. You were born on Pandora almost eighteen years ago and somehow after the abandonment of your parents, you’re paying the price. A beautiful death trap is what you called the planet as it was the most breathtaking place you had ever been in. Something you had been studying and realizing for years as that was all you were allowed to do. Take samples and study the planet and the species that occupied it.

In addition to learning from the scientists of the past that had the ability to speak to the natives and learn their ways of life. So, you studied the language, the culture, the ways of life of the land. Not fully understanding the people, you were enchanted with the Na’vi, specifically the Omatikaya clan that only sat miles away hidden within the forest. Sometimes you closed your eyes and almost just almost could picture what it would be like to be one of them. The purest of souls. That's how you remained sane all those years; your childhood was spent within a lab, with scientists as your proxy parents. Scientists who didn’t have any initial history with raising a child, let alone two.

Miles Socorro, your adoptive brother if you could even call him that was only about a year younger than you, born on this forsaken island with parents who didn’t quite understand their role in the destruction your species caused. Unlike your parents, they were more focused on destroying the clan of the forest as well as its resources rather than preserving it, and eventually, it caught up to both of them. You didn’t claim him as your brother, though many of the scientists considered him to be, but rather a problematic monkey boy who wished to disregard the feelings of the Omatikaya people in favor of his own wants or needs.

Spider became what you knew him as, as you got older and suddenly his presence around the lab faltered, barely lingering. He ran off when he was young and somehow his charming wit and quick reflexes were enough to earn a spot within the clan. Metaphorically though because as long as he was human he would never be one of them. None of you would be. As the Na’vi has said, “Every person is born twice…” but when you are one of the sky people you will never earn a place among the people.

“Y/N?”

The voice of Norm Spellman, one of the two scientists you considered yourself to have worked under for most of your life appeared in the doorway of the lab, a small smile adorned on his face. It widened at the sight of you once again sitting at Dr. Augustine’s old desk, reviewing the same psionic link logs you had watched at least a dozen times.

Pausing it with ease, you stared at the woman’s face for a moment before meeting his gaze again, “Sorry, yes?”

“Do you think you could go grab the container for the Dandetiger plant downstairs? I would like to take a couple of slides of it.”

You nodded and watched as he disappeared out of the room again. Sighing, you gazed down at the computer screen, meeting the smile of Dr. Augustine as she recapped her day spent at the school with the Na’vi children. Shaking your head sadly, you glanced up past the screen across the lab into the open doorway of the incubator room. There she sat, still surrounded in that blue illuminant liquid kept away from the rest of the world. Her avatar looked so much like her, even now. Even after all these years. With Grace gone there was no one else that shared the DNA to use her avatar, so day after day that’s where it sat; in clear view of your desk, motionless. It was such a waste. You shook your head and logged off the computer.

As you came back up from the storage room, you held one sample of the Dandetiger and one from the Tree of Voices or what was left of it after it was bulldozed down by the sky people. It didn’t glow as it once did but somehow as you stared down at it through the microscope, you could almost picture it in all of its beauty. You handed off the specimen to Norm and crossed the room peering in towards Max, who sat at his desk looking over an image of a brain. Max was the other scientist you primarily worked under and the one who had raised you all these years. He was older now, gray littered in his beard and hair peppered slightly, but somehow as people have told you he remained ever the same. Kind, slightly bossy, and completely enamored by this place he called home.

Leaning into the doorway, you cleared your throat, and instantly upon your presence, he closed the tab out from his computer, the hologram disappearing into thin air. Your brows furrowed for a mere second but thought to ignore it. “Hi, Max. Whatcha doing?”

“Nothing,” he brushed off, examining you as well as the specimen in your hands, “What are you doing?”

You shrugged, smiling, “Nothing.”

He chuckled under his breath knowing that this was something you often did, took samples from the Tree of Voices or Home Tree just trying to piece together the past and way of life of the Omatikaya before the sky people invaded. He liked to think it was the scientist in you, but really your heart and soul for the world around you. You sent him a wink just as you planned to slip away when he called out to you again.

The next time you looked over at him, there was something in his hand, a pastry decorated with frosting and sprinkles, and a single candle stuck out of the top of it. A cupcake. He lit the candle and handed it over to you. Your heart felt heavy at that moment as you glanced back and forth from it in your hands to the older man before you, a warm expression across his face. “What is this?”

“Happy birthday.”

Your eyes widened, almost having entirely forgotten as a soft smile suddenly appeared. Eighteen, that was right. You were turning eighteen and somehow you had let it almost slip by with how the days had once again begun to blur together. Boredom had set in and somehow you blinked and it was your birthday. Nodding, you blew out the candle and thanked him.

You turned away and took one step back in the direction of the lab when something caught your attention out of the corner of your eye. Outside of the window, where the green grass was bright under the sunlight, you watched as three Na’vis approached the camp accompanied by none other than Spider leading the frontier. Just when you thought you could have a peaceful birthday, his smug face would have to appear and ruin it.

You rolled your eyes and called out back towards Max, “We got company.”

“No, you mean you have company,” he called back, correcting you.

Sighing, you hurried away from the door back towards the lab, where you quickly set up your microscope to pretend you were busy working. Just as you took a seat, you swiped your finger across the top of the cupcake and stuck it into your mouth. You hummed in satisfaction just as the compact sealed door opened and closed near the entryway, then in a matter of seconds, all you could hear was the patter of a pair of feet.

Even if you never would be accepted by the people, that somehow didn’t stop you from ever interacting with members of the Omatikaya clan. Jake Sully the last dream walker happened to have children, four in fact. One was a direct spawn from Grace’s avatar, something that still remained a mystery. Consequently, his three youngest became quite close with Spider, and with that friendship came a complete entrancement with the lab and the sky people that inhabited it. Somehow the Sully children seemed the most fascinated with you, the only human girl they ever came face to face with, especially one that was close to their age. Kiri, the daughter of Grace, supposedly from Eywa was the same age as Lo’ak, Toruk Makto’s second oldest child. They were seventeen now, and even to this day still argued like those young kids when you had first met them. Then there was Tuk, the youngest of the family that always blackmailed her older siblings into letting her tag along on everything she could. The threat always consisted of tattling on them to their mother and that always proved to be enough for Lo’ak to let her tag along.

The eldest Sully child, a son around your age, had been mentioned quite often and not always kindly by his siblings, mostly Lo’ak but after all these years, he still had never shown his face here. Never among the sky people. You never asked why, but you didn’t have to as the younger brother always spoke about how the golden child was off training to one day become the Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya people. Somehow he had managed to stay out of his younger siblings' bullshit but you heard about him quite often, more often than you needed to.

Even after all these years, the sound of their voices and the hurried steps across the cement floor never ceased to surprise you. The only contact you had with the Na’vi people in your lab was constantly in your face. At first, they didn’t pay you much mind other than Lo’ak who somehow even at the age of ten was the smuggest bastard you had ever met. He found it quite easy to flirt with you, enjoying the way you glared over in his direction and threatened to hit him upside the head. Kiri was the first one you had initially talked to, often about her mother, offering to share whatever you could with her, including the video logs. No one could quite explain how she ended up here but you were more than willing to help try and piece it together. In exchange she talked about her village, the Omatikaya people, and often would bring you gifts, things that they valued within their lives. You kept them over the years. They all resided safely away in your room upon your desk overlooking a window that peered out to the forest.

“Y/N!”

The eight-year-old’s steps slapped across the floor as she appeared from the hallway practically sprinting. As you glanced over your shoulder, you were met with a blue figure colliding with you and your chair. You stumbled slightly backward as the arms wrapped around your waist, face leaned against your torso. Tuk hugged you tightly and you couldn’t help the smile that appeared at the affection.

“Well, hello.”

A few seconds later the rest of them emerged into the lab, Kiri grinning and Lo’ak and Spider messing around, barely even looking your way. Finally, their bickering ceased, and found you staring over at them. Spider rolled his eyes and Lo’ak could only send you a small salute with the widest grin on his face. You rolled your eyes before meeting those of your closest friend. Kiri’s arms were hidden behind her back and she swayed back and forth on her tiptoes.

Your eyes narrowed for a second as Tuk finally pulled back from your embrace, returning to practically bouncing off the walls. She grinned as she stared at her older sister. You tilted your head to the side, “Well you all appear to be in a good mood today.”

“I guess you could say that,” Kiri replied.

“Why? What’s going on?”

She finally caved and laughed, “We have something for you actually.”

“You’re going to love it,” Tuk reassured, her hand finding yours.

Kiri nodded and following her movements, she extended her hand out to you, clasped shut over something. Ever so slowly she turned her hands and opened them and for a mere second, you felt your breath get caught in your throat. It was a necklace but not just any necklace. One adorned in beads and strings resembling most jewelry that was made and worn by the Omatikaya. This one particularly was made with beads of blue and green, crafted into the most beautiful shapes and patterns.

“We made it for you!” Tuk announced.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” Kiri said.

Your mouth dropped open for a mere second, heart swelling at the gesture and the excitement that covered both Na’vis’ faces. It took you a few moments to regain yourself but when you did, a large smile formed across your face. “Thank you. You guys are too sweet, but how did you—”

“We asked Norm about it the last time we were here. He gave us a countdown of how many days it was and from there we just kept track,” the older Sully girl explained, gesturing to put the necklace on you.

You nodded, still slightly at a loss for words, “I really appreciate this. You are too kind to me truly.”

“Shush,” she mumbled, walking behind you to place the necklace on. As she wrapped it around your neck with ease, it was then you peered over at the two boys in the room who had remained quiet. Kiri and Tuk looked at them expectantly and Spider huffed in annoyance.

“Happy birthday,” he mumbled, barely able to get it out.

As you met Lo’ak’s gaze, his smile widened. Tuk gestured to you and he shrugged as if remembering that he should probably say something. Reaching forward, he took the cupcake from your desk and examined it for a moment before taking a large bite out of the side of it. “Happy birthday, Y/N/N. Another year more beautiful than the last.”

You rolled your eyes, concealing the need to gag as his large golden eyes stared down at you, “Which reminds me, is this finally the year you’re going to ditch this place and come with us?”

“Lo’ak!” His sister scolded, finally letting the necklace fall loosely against your neck

“What?” He held his hands up, glaring in her direction, “This place is like a cage. And I think a day out with us wouldn’t kill her. She could afford to live a little.”

Kiri huffed and stepped towards him shoving him slightly, a look that could kill sent his way. “Do you ever shut up? You do realize that you sound like a complete idiot!”

“Yeah whatever, you know it’s worth a shot at least,” he reasoned, looking past her towards you, laying on the extra charm with his next sentence, “I know you want to Y/N. We all do. You always have. I mean look at you. You have that damn piece of the Tree of Voices again. Aren’t you a little bit curious what it actually looks like out there?”

You sighed as Tuk’s hand remained wrapped around your arm hanging onto every word her older brother said, just hoping deep down that you would say yes. It crossed your mind, and for a moment you considered it but then the face of their mother appeared and the rest of the Omatikaya people. Their reactions to a sky person trespassing against their land. It didn’t matter how much you wanted to or that you always had. What mattered was how those people would feel.

“I think I’ll pass.”

He groaned, shoulders dropping in disappointment and you couldn’t bare to face Tuk knowing that her expression probably looked the exact same. Shaking his head, he stepped towards you and placed the cupcake down on your desk. A smile appeared again as he reached up and flicked your ear playfully. “You’re insufferable.”

You matched his expression with ease, the only way you were able to handle him. “Wow, that might be the biggest word you have ever used. I guess I was wrong about the size of that brain of yours. It’s larger than I thought.”

“One of these days I am going to get you to step out of this fucking lab and that’s a promise.”

They stayed for a while after that, the normalcy of Lo’ak and Spider teaming up against everyone else ringing in your ears. Tuk was glued to your side for most of that time, touching your arm or flicking a piece of hair out of your face. The two older siblings could only make note of it as you sat switching from joining the conversation and looking through the microscope at the slides of the Tree of Voices. It was luminescent under the microscope and it was hard to look away, even though you had seen it multiple times. They left reluctantly because it was getting dark and if they could’ve stayed longer they would.

Later that evening, you sat outside of the lab staring out the large glass window fiddling with the necklace around your neck. It was dark and you couldn’t help yourself but stare forward at the forest on the other side of that wall. You knew almost everything that was out there, had studied every part of it but you still felt so disconnected from it all. Lo’ak was right, he would always be right when it came to you and what you wanted. This was no life for a person, locked away within a lab, no potential to ever leave. For the other scientists that stayed they chose this, they wanted this life rather than to return to their dying planet but you, you never chose this.

“Y/N.”

You blinked, wiping the tears that threatened to form in your eyes as your other hand gripped tightly to the beads of the necklace. Norm stood in front of you, his hands in his pockets, looking from you to the window. A small frown was etched across his face, knowing that expression on your face far too well as it only had become more persistent the older you got. “Did you need something else?”

He shook his head and approached you, patting your shoulder with comfort. That alone almost made you want to burst out into tears but you held it together. Silence lingered for a moment, a moment where you could feel the pain that was buried so deep within your chest. His touch fell away and he nodded in the direction of the lab. “We have something we need to show you?”

You lifted a brow over in his direction in curiosity, “We?”

A satisfied look appeared on his face and he nodded. “Yes.”

“So you and Max?” you asked in which he merely shrugged. Your expression hardened for a moment because though those two had been around you your whole life, sometimes their ideas weren’t always the best. You frowned, “What is it?”

“It’s a surprise.”

Your stare hardened and you sighed, “I hate surprises.”

“I have a feeling you’ll like this one, come on,” Norm chuckled, that smile of his widening.

With hesitance, you let your hand fall away from the necklace and you stood, almost reluctant. Dragging your steps, you moved towards the doorway of the lab to follow Norm but a hand held up in your face stopped you. You sighed for a moment when you realized what he was going to make you do. He chuckled and gestured again. “Close your eyes.”

“I swear to god,” you cursed underneath your breath and he stopped you before you could say anything else.

“Just do it,” he demanded, a fatherly tone in someway occupying his usual soft kind voice. His frustration was there, which didn’t happen often, but something as small as that made the corners of your mouth quirk up in a small smile. It was no way to live but somehow even with that there were people here that cared about you, that wanted to see you happy. Somehow even in all of it, the loss of your parents, the dealing with Spider’s bullshit, you gained a family. A family of a few scientists that were just in love with this deadly planet as you were.

Shrugging as a way of acceptance, you obliged, your eyes fluttering to a close. His hand took your arm gently and began to guide you into the lab out of the hallway and you felt inclined to peek which he stopped you from doing multiple times. The nerves were alive in your stomach almost threatening to make you puke. You had hated surprises ever since you were a kid. Many times Spider had tricked you by either throwing hands full of mud in your face or getting you lost at the edge of the forest. After that, you didn’t dare step a foot outside of the lab unless it was to collect samples or admire the forest from afar. Those anxieties somehow remained even when the bully that was the younger boy wasn’t around and you knew you were completely safe.

You felt your feet stumble slightly on the shift of the room’s floor, revealing that you no longer were in the lab. You groaned, still able to feel his hand wrapped around you securely to prevent you from falling, “This is torture.”

“You’re being dramatic,” you heard Max’s voice from somewhere behind you, amusement laced within it. Oh god, this wasn’t promising.

“Well, I should be,” your shoulders dropped as the nerves didn’t cease, “Sometimes when the two of you are together your ideas are not so great.”

“Hey!” Norm exasperated, feeling offended by your comment.

You felt him stop though and so did you. You felt your heart jump into your throat as if you were going to be sick. You exhaled deeply as the room fell silent for a mere moment, your anticipation practically killing you though it felt more like dread. He tapped your head lovingly as he glanced around to Max then back towards the “surprise.”

“Okay,” he took a deep breath and Max nodded in response. They both gazed down at you and then at the thing they had been keeping from you for years, concealing, and working with every piece of information they could. It all led to this moment. “You can open them now.”

Even as he said that you were skeptical and only clenched your eyelids tighter as the anxiety seemed to fully wrap around your throat at this point. Norm chuckled, “Y/N, you can open your eyes now.”

“I am scared,” you replied, arms wrapping around yourself as a way of comfort, nails practically digging into your forearms. The two scientists laughed and looked at one another knowingly.

Max rolled his eyes, “Y/N, open your eyes.”

You exhaled deeply but listened anyway despite your gut telling you otherwise. Your eyes fluttered open, the shining light above your head making you squint for a mere moment to adjust to the brightness. You were in the incubator room, the cold temperature of it creating goosebumps across your arms. You stared forward at the avatar’s tank, Grace’s features the only thing you could focus on. She was still just as she had been since Dr. Augustine had died and the image of a few hours ago passed behind your eyes of Kiri sitting near the incubator memorizing every single line of her mother’s face. She talked to her often, trying to find some conclusion as to how she came to be and the reason she was even here. It brought a whole new meaning to the avatar program when Grace passed away and Kiri was born. More so when Jake Sully became Toruk Makto and fell in love with the Olo’eyktan’s daughter.

Blinking slightly, you stared forward at the body, confusion forming across your expression. You felt your body relax as Max appeared behind you. His hands found your shoulders and squeezed them lightly. “Happy birthday, kid.”

As you were about to turn to him, something caught the corner of your eye and suddenly you found a gasp ripping from the base of your throat. The amnio tank that sat just behind Grace’s that had sat empty for all these years were filled with the same blue amniotic fluid that filled hers. Eyes wide, your head whipped towards both Norm and then Max, heart beating a hundred miles a minute. You looked over searching for any slight hint of assurance that Max gives you with a nod. Slowly, you stepped away from him towards the amnio tank with wide eyes and shaky palms. They met the cold glass as an unsteady breath fell from your parted lips.

An avatar. That was what was floating around within that amnio tank. A large blue frame slightly smaller than Grace’s floating — its own arms wrapped around itself, body twitching every so often as if it was merely sleeping. A form of life, that’s what it was, and it was the most amazing thing you had ever witnessed before. You traced it with your eyes from its slender waist, strong legs, and a long tail with a queue, up to its face. A face that almost brought tears to your eyes as it was entirely familiar; sharp cheekbones, flat nose, arched eyebrows, white spots speckled across its smooth skin. She looked so much like you, you could barely believe it.

“What the fuck?” you cursed, voice breaking as you peered back at the two men who had always been in your life. “Really? You guys did this for me?”

“Best birthday gift, huh?” Norm smiled.

You couldn’t help but sniffle and nod, “But how? These take years to…”

Max nodded along with you and you grinned as your voice trailed off in complete disbelief that they had taken the time to do this, approximately three to five years to do this. But it could have taken much longer with the lack of resources left for them since the war. And somehow they did it all while keeping it a secret. “But how did you know?”

“We just kind of figured ever since you were six,” Norm answered. “But it become more evident as years went on with the Sully kids always around.”

“Six?”

Max laughed, “You don’t remember do you?”

Your brows furrowed and you shook your head, unable to pull any memories from that far back that would make them think that you needed your own avatar. Crossing his arms over his chest, Max shared a look with Norm before peering over at you in amusement.

“When you were six years old, Miles did something at the time to really piss you off. I don’t quite remember what it was but you grabbed one of the oxygen masks and ran out of here. You said you were leaving and that you were going to move over into the village to live with the Na’vi.”

“It took us two hours to find you,” Norm added in, “You hadn’t made it far so it wasn’t a big deal, but we found you about a mile into the forest, hidden within a bush of Panopyra staring at the way it glowed. You had no fear back then and ever since then, this has been your life. Studying anything and everything about Pandora and we appreciate all your help all these years.”

You laughed and smiled but it lessened slightly as you were unable to hold any meaning to the memory they so vividly can recall. It was so long ago and somehow it didn’t exist to you. Max peered over your shoulder at the avatar and cleared his throat suddenly, “We know that you don’t want to spend the rest of your life locked away and staring at a microscope. This might not be able to give you much but it at least gives you a little wiggle room. It’ll get you out of this building.”

Glancing from the two of them back to the avatar, you found your fingers tracing the glass with ease as for the first time in years, you remembered what it was like to be excited about something. To look forward to something. Wiping at your eyes, you felt your throat closing up trying to keep the sudden emotion at bay. You sent a smile to both of them, unable to express everything you felt at that moment.

“Thank you. Both of you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

“So,” Norm clapped his hands trying to ignite a little more excitement back into the room, “You want to test this thing out tomorrow. Do a little test drive.”

“Yes,” you grinned, hurriedly, “I would really like that, actually.”

That night you were unable to sleep, your mind buzzing full of all the possibilities. From touching all of the plants to experiencing the way the forest glowed at night, creating a path of bioluminescence, or being able to interact with some of the animals after years of staring at pictures or video logs left by Dr. Augustine. Even the possibility of interacting with the Omatikaya passed through your mind but instantly you tried to let go of that one. If there was one thing they hated it was sky people, an avatar was just one step up. An alien in a false Na’vi body was not welcome and was far too dangerous to them. You would maybe be able to play with the Sully children in the forest, close by to the camp, but actually go to the village, and see the sites where Home Tree and the Tree of Voices once were would never happen. To ever actually interact with the Omatikaya people, meet the remaining Sully eldest son, or learn about the Na’vi ways directly would never be allowed, so you tried your hardest to forget about it. It wasn’t easy though as that was all you wanted, the ability to interact.

The next morning, you woke up early, fidgeting and bouncing on the heels of your feet. It was something Norm, Max, or the other scientists hadn’t seen in you in so long. You were usually quiet, kept to yourself, and barely talked to anyone unless asked to. That day you said good morning to everyone, a smile plastered across your face, asking hundreds of questions every moment you could. By breakfast, Norm and Max had already explained all of the protocols, the expectations, and how the link pods worked. Even with all that, it was going to be a long day of testing motor skills, brain function, and everything else with the avatar if the linking process was even successful. It had been years since they powered up the link pods and they only hoped one would at least run without a large amount of money getting put into their building and equipment.

It was midday by the time you finally laid eyes on the open link pod and climbed inside. Sitting within it, you felt your hand dip into the gel encasing with fascination as Max powered up the pod and got everything ready with the monitor. Cautiously, you laid back suddenly nervous. Nervous that it wouldn’t work but even more nervous that it would. You felt the metal cage get brought down on your body and your head was on a swivel looking around at the room and the small space you would be encased in.

“You okay?” Max asked, able to see the moment of panic displayed on your face.

You sent him a smile back though realizing that it was everything you had ever wanted, “Yeah.”

“Good, just lay back and close your eyes. Let your mind go blank,” he explained, closing the top of the link pod on you, sealing you inside.

You could hear your breath and the twitch within your fingers as you stared up at the ceiling of the pod, trapped inside. After about a minute, you inhaled and closed your eyes, trying to calm down your racing heart. Before you knew it, it was all over with a flash of light. Your eyes fluttered open and blurred for a mere moment as you were faced with bright luminescent lights beating down on you. For a few seconds, you stared up at them, wondering if it had actually worked but then you were brought back to reality as you heard some bustling from beside you, causing your ears to twitch at how loud and clear it was.

Head snapping into the direction of the sound, you found Norm standing there in a lab coat with an oxygen mask pulled over his face messing with a monitor. Looking around the small medicalized room before you, you found yourself in a hospital gown and just below that long legs and blue feet hanging off the edge of the medical bed. You gasped and raised your arms up to peer at your hands. They were blue with five fingers. Sitting up quickly, you stared at them in wonder as the sudden movement caught Norm’s attention.

“Hey, take it easy, okay? We should take things slow,” Norm said, hands raised out towards you as he came to your side. He lifted his hand and did a couple of snaps by the side of your head, satisfied in the way your ears twitched in response.

“It worked,” you grinned suddenly, looking behind you to find a long braid with the queue and an even longer tail moving around on the bed.

He returned the look on your face, “Yeah it worked, but we still have a lot to do. Lots of tests to make sure everything is in order.”

You barely heard what he said as your hands traced over your tail as it moved. Finally looking up, you met the gaze of Max through the large glass window still standing behind a desk and a monitor that looked at your brain function. He smiled and you could only return it.

It took another fifteen minutes of testing motor skills that consisted of things like touching each finger to your thumb and wiggling your toes before you were allowed to stand and another ten after that before they let you walk around. You were restless by that time, barely able to control your new body that suddenly resembled a baby deer stumbling around, evident in the way you nearly fell every so often and your tail seemed to collide with every single thing around you. After half an hour, you began to get the hang of it, walking around the small space as Norm checked on a few more things with the avatar. It was late in the day by the time they found a spare set of clothes lying around in some old things and you were able to step outside of the lab.

Dressed in some of Grace’s avatar’s old clothes, you stood in front of the door of the medical room, a new feeling appearing, one that resembled hope. You stepped out with Norm just behind you and instantly the sun that hung low in the sky hit you in the face but not as hard as the breeze that you had never felt on your face before. You took in a deep breath, able to smell the air and have it fill your lungs without a mask strapped onto you. It was a new sense of freedom you had never realized you would appreciate so much. When you opened your eyes, your gaze found the forest just on the other side of the fence and suddenly a new kind of determination appeared.

“Max, please,” you begged as you entered back into the medical room to ask if they would let you go out into the forest for an hour at most. It was a few hours until it would be dark and you knew you wouldn’t go as far as a few miles. There were weapons you could even take with you but both Norm and Max were reluctant.

“It’s just the first day, Y/N/N. That’s a lot of stress to put on you and the avatar. Plus, it’s getting late,” he reasoned.

“It would be for an hour and you know I wouldn’t go too far. Please, I need this. I need to just experience a little bit more,” you said, glancing over to Norm who seemed to be considering your words. “I know about so many things. I would know what to avoid and what would be safe.”

“She has a point there,” Norm interjected.

“Yeah, and I know we still have some transmitters lying around. I’ll wear one so we can be in contact the whole time. And if need be I could even take a weapon, something to defend myself, just an hour, please Max.”

He sighed and that’s when you knew you had him. Glancing down at the link pod that held your human body and then up at you through the glass window, he couldn’t destroy that look in your large golden eyes, that happiness that he hadn’t seen in years.

“Fine. But an hour do you hear me? If it starts to get darker sooner, you get your butt right back here, okay?”

You jumped up and down, tail wagging from side to side, “Yes, yes of course. Thank you. Thank you.”

You should have listened to them. You shouldn’t have gotten too ahead of yourself. Somehow there was something about this body, this feeling of control that made you a little crazy. As soon as you stepped into the brush further into the forest, you broke out into a sprint, legs unable to stop their movements as you pushed back tree limbs and wide brush. Within the first fifteen minutes, you happened to go further than the one-mile restriction you had promised them. Instead, you fed them lies over the transmitter and ignored their questions every once in a while, promising that you would be back any minute. You hadn’t run that long or that fast in so long though. Contained in a small building and a patch of land all your life. You didn’t know how long it would last; this freedom, this body, this ability to be quick with even quicker reflexes. Ones you were still trying to get used to at that. You should have listened though.

It was starting to get dark, slowly, and just as you spoke through the transmitter saying you would be back soon, you felt your heart drop within your stomach. A sound resembled a hiss of some kind just a few feet away behind a set of trees. It was low, rough, and vibrated within your ears. Hidden behind a tree, you peeked around and felt your ears flatten out of fear at the sight of the large Thanator with even bigger teeth, sharp claws digging into the soil of the ground, and ears on high alert. It was the same creature that had once led Jake Sully into the forest where he made contact with the Omatikaya directly. He barely made it out alive and you weren’t looking to find out if you could outrun it just as he had. You held your breath and counted to five before you slowly began to walk deeper into the forest, constantly looking over your shoulder. When you felt like you were far enough, out of earshot, you broke out into a sprint. You were panting, completely out of breath, forehead dripping in sweat as you continued with the pace for almost ten minutes.

However suddenly as you glanced behind you to see if it was there somehow following you, you felt your foot latch onto something, a rock maybe or a log. It sent your body forward, hurling you until you felt yourself collide with the ground. Quickly you began to fall, rolling at a fast rate down a large hill hitting things you couldn’t even see, and before you knew it you had come to a stop.

Hours later, you were waking up and the daylight was gone leaving you surrounded by the sounds of animals and insects lurking around unseen. You blinked a couple of times wondering if you were back in the link pod and your brain was just playing tricks on you but when you felt an intense amount of pain shoot through your shoulder you knew you were still in the forest and still within your avatar’s body. You couldn’t understand why but it didn’t matter.

You sat up slowly, noticing a pond lay nearby glowing, filled with lily pads and different flora. Numerous other plants and insects were just as bright; all consisting of either green, purple, pink, or blue. You felt your breath hitch as you scanned the area, wary as you thought about what had you running in the first place. You felt the sting again as you leaned back against the tree you must have collided with and reached up to press your fingers against your shoulder.

When you pulled it back it was stained red. Shaking your head, you reached up to touch the transmitter that had been attached to your ear but felt a wave of panic rush through you as it was no longer there. You looked around the ground but it wasn’t there either. Cursing underneath your breath, the realization dawned on you that you were lost and completely alone.

It didn’t last long though because as you managed to pull yourself to your feet, a sound emerged from out of the brush a few feet in front of you. First what sounded like hushed voices, but then footsteps moving quietly across the ground. Instantly, your mind jumped to the idea of the Omatikaya and tried to move around the side of the tree to conceal yourself. If they wanted to shoot and kill you at first glance, they could because even if you looked like them you weren’t and that could easily be identified.

You held your breath just as the brush moved to the side and three figures emerged. Two were around the same size as one another and the third was significantly smaller. The first two were Omatikaya just like you originally thought with similar clothing, and belts littered with knives. They were arguing and as their voices sounded somewhat familiar, you glanced over at the third figure; tan skin, long dreads, barely tall enough to reach the Omatikaya’s shoulders. Then you saw the oxygen mask and you realized just then who it was. Spider was the first to notice you as you revealed yourself from around the tree.

Clutching your shoulder in pain, he got the attention of both Lo’ak and Kiri. Within a matter of seconds, both of their knives were drawn and everyone seemed to be frozen in place, holding their breath. Lo’ak protectively stepped in front of Spider, and Kiri took one step closer to you, ears flat and teeth bared for you to see. A hiss was just on the tip of her tongue as her eyes took you in. It was the clothing that ignited fear in them all because it meant you weren’t Omatikaya and since you resembled them it was a whole new fear they didn’t know they would be encountering so soon. Somehow though as she looked from your clothes up to your features, her expression softened slightly, her eyes appearing less threatening but curious. Then as she noticed your hand clutched tightly around your shoulder, her orbs fell to the bright beaded bracelet around your wrist, and at that the recognition was instant.

She stood up straight, arms going limp at her sides as her golden eyes widened in shock. She glanced one more time at the bracelet and the lack of fear that seemed to occupy your face. A gasp suddenly was ripped from her throat, dropping her knife to the ground. Quickly she rushed over to you ignoring her brother’s protests.

“Oh great mother,” she said, voice barely above a whisper as her hands gently took a hold of your arms, eyes examining your face up close. Starting at your nose, then your glowing eyes, they fell down to your tail and long dark flowy hair that went past your shoulders all the way to the five fingers that accompanied your hands.

Lo’ak kept repeating her name warily with Spider looking on with slight worry but she couldn’t even glance their way as her fingers moved up to trace over your nose in complete awe. A small smile ghosted over her lips, “Really?”

“Hi,” you whispered, and at the recognition of your voice, she lurched forward and hugged you tightly.

You hissed slightly under your breath but returned her embrace as best as you could and as the two boys looked at the two of you, the sound of your voice and the familiarity of your features seemed to get their attention. Lo’ak’s ears flickered and suddenly his eyes had gotten just as wide as his sister’s. “What the fuck?”

The Sully boy cursed and slid his knife back into his belt before closing the gap between where he stood and the two of you. As Kiri released you, he walked around her to get a better look at you, and as soon as your eyes met, the largest smile formed across his lips. He was only a few inches taller than you and for once you got to see him in a whole new way. “No fucking way.”

His gaze lingered on your eyes and your mouth for a brief second before he circled around you, flicking your tail amusingly. You groaned out of annoyance and pulled your tail back from his touch. His fingers then pressed along your ear to your hair as he continued to walk around you, unable to fully take in that it was really you standing in front of him and in a dream walker’s body. Touch tracing along your arm, he stood in front of you again and instantly took a hold of your wrist. With your hand stuck out, your palm turned upwards, his breath became lodged within his throat as he stared down at it. Stared down at your slightly smaller hands, ones that somehow resembled his more than the rest of the Na’vi. His fingertips then with the lightest touch traced your palm and then your fingers, before sliding them in between yours, holding tightly onto your hand.

Looking up and over his shoulder at Spider, it seemed that look alone snapped him out of his confused state and he instantly took note of the familiarity of the dream walker in front of him as well as the clothes. “No. No!”

A furrow formed in between his brows and he glared over at you as Kiri noticed the jealousy right away. It was evident across his face and you all knew it. “They didn’t. They wouldn’t.”

You were silent, avoiding his eyes because you knew deep down that as much as you wanted this, so did he. He had run away to be with the Omatikaya as much as he could for fucks sake. You knew that automatically would make him feel like he deserved this way more than you ever had. “They gave you your own fucking avatar?”

His tone was harsh, almost like nails on a chalkboard. It fueled some anger of your own and resentment towards the younger boy enough that your eyes snapped back in his direction, a glare of your own forming. You were smug as you respond with, “Yes. Yes, they did.”

“They gave you your own avatar and let you run off on your own into the forest. Why can’t I possibly believe that?”

You became silent again at the second part and broke eye contact away from him. You could still feel his hard stare as it left an unsettling feeling in your stomach. Because that hadn’t been what had happened. You felt Lo’ak squeeze your hand as it was still clutching his. All three of them could see the uneasiness that had spread across your blue face.

“Wait a second,” Spider stated, breaking the silence, “Norm and Max wouldn’t have let you do that. Let you wander off on your own your very first day with it. There’s no fucking way. You’re inexperienced and they know that you would get yourself killed. Y/N!”

You stepped forward, feeling Lo’ak pull back on your hand. “Look, I don’t know what happened. I was exploring the forest that is all and it’s not a crime. But then I saw a Thanator and I got scared.”

“A what?” Kiri asked suddenly.

“A palulukan,” you corrected, the Na’vi word coming off your tongue effortlessly and both Sully children shared a worried glance with one another at the word. “Then while I was running I must have slipped or fallen or whatever. I lost my transmitter and I just woke up here. It was stupid, I know that, okay?”

As he took in your words, a self-satisfied grin then appeared on his face, “You realize they won’t let you ever take it out again. I wouldn’t be surprised if they went as far to take it away now.”

“Spider,” Lo’ak snapped at him, jaw slightly clenched as he finally let go of your hand.

Worry was evident on your face as that was the last thing you wanted now that you knew what it felt like. Kiri looked over at you and she noticed the way you were chewing on your lower lip staring at the ground. As she took in the rest of you, that's when she saw that you were still gripping your shoulder, blood painted across your fingers and the back of your hand. She stepped forward and released your grip to look at the wound and at the sight, she let out an unapproved sigh. “You’re hurt and it’s deep. We need to get this cleaned up.”

Your ears perked up at that as she grabbed your arm and began to lead you in the opposite direction of the camp. You stopped though, digging your heels into the ground and pulling her back. “Kiri, wait. Just take me back to the base okay? Norm and Max can help me there.”

“The village is closer and it’s dark. We couldn’t possibly go all the way back now.”

“Kiri, please,” you begged, as the thought crossed your mind of entering the village and facing all of the Omatikaya, your appearance giving away that you were nothing but an outsider, someone who didn’t belong. It would be the first dream walker they would have seen in many years and the fear of what could happen appeared in your chest and it was almost suffocating. It worsened as you thought about their mother and what she would possibly do.

“We’re already past curfew, Kiri,” Lo’ak reminded her, “Mom’s going to have our asses.”

“Well, we can’t just leave her behind,” Kiri argued.

Spider chuckled, “Yes, we can.”

All three of you glared over at the boy still fuming with jealousy at the sight of the older girl who happened to get an avatar before him. It was evident in the way he spoke, though deep down they all knew you wouldn’t survive out there all alone. That was why his comment sparked such rage in both of the siblings.

Kiri’s gaze softened as she met the eyes of her oldest friend again, now gold and light and matching her own. It filled her with a sense of excitement herself to see that you finally resembled them and stepped foot off the camp. There were so many more possibilities now that you had this new body. She could finally show you the forest, her village, her life, everything she had been dying to show you for years. The sole obstacle at that moment was her mother. Even with that obstacle though, she knew her father, the Olo’eyktan would let you in and protect you just as he did with Spider, dream walker or not. Because many years ago he used to be one too. Everything would be fine. She was sure of it. The great mother Eywa was sure of it.

“Y/N, you can’t stay out here. Do you understand me? We need to go.”

“Kiri.”

“It will be okay. I promise.”

You nodded after a moment, reluctant at first but began to follow them as Kiri picked up her knife from the ground and began to move swiftly through the forest. Spider pushed past you and caught up to her as Lo’ak waited for you, making sure you were at his side. Your heart was pulsing so loudly, you swore you could hear it in your ears, your anxiety clear through your movements that were less than relaxed or quick. Lo’ak kept sneaking glances at you but you didn’t have it in you to even acknowledge him, too worried to do so.

After a few moments of walking, Kiri and Spider began to speed up. It was getting hard to keep up with them because the later in the night it got, the faster they all got, their own fear of being scolded and getting a smack down their sole motivator. They leaped over tree limbs and crossed long logs. It felt like you were getting left behind as every few seconds Lo’ak would have to slow down slightly to make sure you didn’t get more than a few feet behind them. He was almost tempted to grab your hand again and drag you along, but he knew better than to do that.

As they dashed through the forest, it led you to believe that you must have been close to the village. As it turned out, it was just across this fallen tree and through the brush. You hurried after them as they balanced across the long log that overlooked a terrain, hundreds of feet down. Your eyes suddenly widened as you watched Kiri and Spider leap across from the edge of the tree’s trunk to the other side landing on the ground with almost grace. Lo’ak followed them and you felt yourself swallow the spit that had gathered in the back of your throat, hands shaking as they seemed to continue into the forest.

Falling behind, you attempted to make the jump but as you landed on the other side, just near the edge, you felt your foot get caught and slip slightly. You felt your weight shift backwards and your breath got pulled back into your throat, a scream unable to escape. However, just as you felt your body begin to fall, a hand wrapped around your wrist pulled you forward to their body and ultimately steadied you. You looked up to find Lo’ak staring back at you with a smirk plastered across his face. Withholding an eye roll from his confidence, you returned his look with a small smile.

Running after Kiri and Spider, your legs started to feel weak, almost like they could collapse at any moment. Lo’ak rushed forward towards the front of the group, but just as he rounded the corner near the edge of the brush, you all watched as he collided with a solid frame. It almost knocked him to the ground but the slightly taller person managed to grab his shoulder before he could. The rest of you came to a stop and you watched from behind Kiri the way the other Na’vi’s grip on Lo’ak seemed to tighten as he sent a threatening gaze down at him.

Grabbing onto Kiri’s arm, you looked around her to examine the other Na’vi. He was tall, taller than Lo’ak by a few inches, with broad shoulders, a defined torso paired with a slim waist. His expression was pinched together, serious, almost unfitting for how soft his features were. His bright gold eyes held a sharp glare that made you shift uncomfortably behind Kiri.

Lo’ak didn’t back down though. No instead that smirk returned to his face. “Well if it isn’t daddy’s perfect soldier.”

“Ftang nga! (Stop it!).” His voice was deep, deeper than you would have expected as he almost growled down at Lo’ak. “Where have you guys been? It’s been dark for hours.”

“I see you’re following up on your orders, brother,” he continued, finding amusement in the way the other Na’vi boy tensed under his words.

Brother.

Your eyes widened suddenly, grip tightening around Kiri’s arm. She glanced down at you but you didn’t look away from the Na’vi before you. Brother. So this was it, the missing link. Neteyam Te Suli Tsyeyk’itan. The future Olo’eyktan. The great Toruk Makto’s eldest son. The one who seemed completely responsible for the rest of his siblings when his parents weren’t around. The one who would one day be responsible for everyone else within the Omatikaya clan. He would one day hold the entire world on his shoulders and that pressure seemed to already be showing. It didn’t help that he had an asshat of a younger brother who never made him forget it.

The golden child. The perfect soldier. That was how Lo’ak had always described him all these years. Everything that he could have said to actually explain the kind of person Neteyam was wasn’t ever mentioned. No, because it didn’t matter who he was now or had been for his whole life but who he is supposed to become.

His threatening gaze shifted away from Lo’ak to Kiri and Spider, but it faltered almost instantly as his eyes found you hiding behind his sister, your own stare wide and locked onto him. He was silent as he took you in, expression unreadable to you but almost softer than how he had been looking at his brother previously. His ears flattened slightly behind his head, his glare disappearing completely as he scanned over your face and the very unfamiliar features. His eyes followed yours, the way they glowed intensively in his direction, to the white spots across the bridge of your nose and around your eyes. Your own ears flickered while your lips quirked up into a soft smile, one he couldn’t look away from.

However, the trance he seemed to be in broke as he noticed your clothes and the blood soaking through your shirt on your shoulder. Strange material he hadn’t seen on anyone but the sky people. Your hand was still clutched onto Kiri and that’s when he saw that your hand resembled more of his sister’s, and brother’s, and the human stood in front of him rather than his own. His eyes then snapped back to his younger brother, who hadn’t even moved or faltered under his gaze.

“What did you do?”

Lo’ak’s eyes widened and hissed slightly under his breath, “Me? Why do you always assume that I did something?”

“Because you always do. It’s like your brain is wired to never listen to anyone. You can’t do anything but get into trouble,” Neteyam reasoned, “I mean example A. It’s dark, way past your curfew and here you are Lo’ak, leading the fucking pack.”

The younger brother’s ears dropped, his stomach turning at the words and the way his older sibling was looking at him — with pure disappointment. Leaning around Kiri, you tried to get a look at Lo’ak’s face and felt your own chest tighten at the sight of it. Eyes wide, almost in complete shock at hearing those words though you knew it hadn’t been the first time. Always he seemed to get himself into trouble and Neteyam always took the blame from their parents and the future Olo’eyktan always held it against Lo’ak. Just as Lo’ak always held it against Neteyam for being the perfect son.

You watched then as his broken expression disappeared and instead was replaced with anger. He pushed his older brother’s chest but Neteyam didn’t back down. He held his ground like a good future leader would with the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Lo’ak then hissed, “Tsap’alute (sorry), that I’m the fuck up of the family. That I can’t be perfect like you. The perfect soldier.”

“Stop, calling me that!”

“Well stop assuming that I did something wrong.”

Both brothers' voices had reached an all-time high, screaming at one another, faces pinched together and flushed with color. You couldn’t help but look between the two of them just waiting, begging that Spider or Kiri would step in to stop them from saying any more. To break up the hard-set gazes and the need to be at each other’s throats but neither of them did. They just stood there and watched as the two brothers yelled it out.

“Then what is this Lo’ak?” Neteyam asked turning his head for a split second, letting his eyes meet yours. However, this time his stare wasn’t soft but unwavering of the intensity he had sent to his siblings. “You have a dream walker with you. A dream walker. You know what mom has told us about them. They shouldn’t—”

“She’s not just a dream walker, Neteyam,” he cut him off, voice letting out a low growl, “It’s Y/N.”

At the name, the eldest son’s ears perked up, his eyes never leaving yours. Proving that the name somehow meant something to him or that he had heard it before which wouldn’t have been unlikely as you had been interacting with his siblings for well over five years. He took you in then, somehow no longer just seeing a dream walker or a false Na’vi body but you, for the first time ever.

Everyone else found themselves looking at you too but you couldn’t look away from Neteyam or the hold he suddenly had on you at that moment. Lo'ak, still not feeling as if he had gotten the last word, continued, his pointer finger digging into his brother’s chest, eyes narrowed.

“And in case you have forgotten—”

Without looking away from you Neteyam stepped away from Lo’ak ignoring him, and seeming to not have anything else to say but, “Za’u (come)!”

“What?” Kiri asked looking from her older brother to you where his focus still was. “Really?”

He nodded, annoyance evident in his tone, “Let’s go. It’s already late enough and Mo’at says there is a storm coming.”

As you all continued what was left to the village, he never looked at you again. Instead, he walked in the front, one hand protectively gripping the knife at his waist, on high alert. You trudged along behind them, trying to stay as close to Kiri as possible but you kept getting distracted. It was the way his muscles shifted with each movement and he wasn’t entirely what you had thought him to be. After all these years, you had finally encountered the great Toruk Makto’s eldest son. The one who was working day in and day out to prove to everyone that he could one day be the leader they all hoped he could be. Something you very well knew but him being as attractive as he was seemed to never have been mentioned.

You felt a small flick to your chest just as you moved through the last remaining brush. Kiri was looking over her shoulder at you, a surprised look across her face, “You’re staring.”

“I am not.”

Your voice was a mere whisper but in the quiet forest, it still managed to catch his ears as he turned his head slightly to the side, but after a moment decided against engaging in the girl talk at the back of the group.

Kiri laughed, right in your face, completely amused at the situation, “Hm, and I am sure Neteyam’s back would think otherwise.”

“Shut up,” you hissed, but the rest of the words that were on your tongue had fallen away just as you stepped out of the long grass. Lights occupied the area, drawing your attention. Lanterns littered across the area that had cleared up significantly, leaving clear-cut grass rather than long ratty weeds.

Your steps slowed almost in disbelief. You were finally there after all those years. Omatikaya's village. Large trees still filled the area, ones that towered so high they were almost impossible to climb, but among those were huts scattered all across the area, going as far as you could see in the dark. Your ears flickered at the noise, the numerous voices from all around. So many that it had been the first time in your entire life to be in a place inhabited by more than ten people. Blinking in almost awe, you felt Kiri take a hold of your wrist and tug you along.

As you walked through the village, your head was on a constant swivel; couples sat outside their huts staring up towards the sky littered with stars, kids laughing and playing a game resembling tag. A few stopped to peer at the new face in strange clothing but only for a few seconds before they went back to their game. Other families were already tucked into bed, getting rest and preparing for the long night and day ahead of them.

Just as Neteyam had mentioned as well as Norm and Max, there was a massive storm coming. Rain and thunder were expected, something more monstrous than the ones that typically happened on Earth. It caused a new set of nerves to form because there was no saying when this storm would hit and if you were denied the chance to stay the night, you weren’t sure how you were going to get back or let alone navigate the forest in the dark. You wouldn’t survive.

It was as if Kiri could feel the shift in the air. The way your awestruck expression had melted away into complete fear and worry. She felt it in the way your frame was tense, unable to meet her gaze all of a sudden. As you made your way through the village, from a few feet away you noticed a woman standing in front of a hut, arms crossed over her chest, an expression that in itself could elicit fear. Neytiri.

She was beautiful, elegant, everything a chief’s daughter was but she was also intensely loyal and protective, more so since becoming a mother and a wife. She had felt and experienced the most pain from the war that had been inflicted on her people, evident in the losses she witnessed. Her hatred towards the sky people only grew after all these years and the sight of her intense stare locked onto her children had you cowering behind her eldest daughter.

You all stopped before her, Neteyam stepping closer to her to witness the scornful speech he knew would be delivered when she had asked him to run off and locate his brother and sister. Finding you, however, was not expected and even he knew his mother would not take to it lightly having you there. A loud pop of thunder encased your ears, making you jump as she stared daggers down at her youngest son, standing proudly in front of everyone else.

“Where have you been? You know the rules,” she said, voice stern, “Be back here before dark.”

Lo’ak held up his hands defensively, “Why are you only looking at me?”

“Tìfnu (quiet).”

Rolling his eyes, he groaned noticing the glare his older brother was sending his way, but he closed his mouth quickly as he saw the way his mother was looking at him. It was scary, to say the least, how the anger was evident in her bright eyes.

“What happened? What was it now?”

When her son refused to answer her, she directed her eyes to her daughter, but the motherly look on her face was drained within seconds as she noticed you, hiding behind Kiri, clutching your shoulder, a hand full of blood. She knew within a split second that you weren’t Omatikaya or Na’vi at all. The alien before her stuck out like a sore thumb and though you appeared just as she did, you had tainted blood flowing through your veins. A new look of anger occupied her face as she walked past both Lo’ak and Spider, aiming to get to you. Kiri revealed you to her mother but pressed her arm across your front as if to protect you. Neytiri noticed the small action and hissed, barring her sharp teeth to you. You flinched, almost ready to fall to your knees and pull your legs to your chest, into a ball.

“She’s hurt. We found her all alone, mother. That’s what happened,” Kiri explained.

“Skxawng parultsyip (stupid children),” Neytiri’s hands raised up into the air as so many different emotions formed upon her face as she then turned to you, “You need to leave.”

Her words were directed to you as she continued, “You are not welcome here! Do you understand me?”

“Mom,” Lo’ak pushed by her to stand in front of you, noticing the way your ears flattened and your eyes grew to twice their size, “She’s a friend.”

“Kehe (no). I don’t care what she is, she must go.”

Both of them now were holding you, trying to keep you from collapsing to the ground as the harshness, the loss of blood, and the worry had made you shift uncontrollably from one foot to the other. Your fear was evident to all of them. For a moment you swore Neteyam’s face had shifted, from a stoic expression to one of almost pity. You felt your heart drop, as if she had stomped on it directly. You knew you would have never been accepted, even if you had looked like them, studied for years to know their language, their ways of life. None of it would matter because to them you would always be one thing: an outsider. One of the sky people.

“Neytiri!” The sound of a strong voice caught everyone’s attention as a larger frame approached full of dominance and authority. Jake Sully. Toruk Makto. The Olo’eyktan of the Omatikaya.

It hadn’t been long since you had seen him. A few years at most as he had always visited Norm and Max here and there but not as often as he wished in exchange to appease his wife. After all, he no longer was one of them but Na’vi through and through. He looked from his wife who was still shaking with anger, fangs poking out of her mouth, to you. He took in the rest of the situation. Kiri and Lo’ak both holding onto you. Spider looks on nearby, uncertain of what would happen. Neteyam stared at the ground barely able to look at the girl dressed in clothes that resembled a sky person. Jake saw the blood immediately on your frame, littered across your shirt, and the tired expression that occupied your young face.

Immediately, he knew. Knew what had happened, who you were, and the entire situation which made his wife act the way she had. He stepped forward until he was right in front of you and for a moment you closed your eyes almost asking, praying that you would wake up in the link pod to find that it all was a dream.

Lo’ak’s arms tightened around you, “It’s Y/N, Dad.”

Jake inhaled and then let it go as your eyes fluttered open. Peering up at him, you watched as there seemed to be an internal war going on inside of his head. He looked over at his wife and then back to his children intertwined around you. Another clap of thunder seemed to draw him out of his thoughts. Reaching forward, his fingers brushed across your shoulder and you hissed out in pain.

His brows furrowed, the same pitiful look that was across his eldest son’s face seconds ago now occupied his, “You okay?”

You nodded quickly, unable to fully take in that he was there and talking to you. He returned your action, nodding, a warm look occupying his face. He then shared a look with his two children. “Take her to an extra hut and clean her up there. Alright?”

A smile formed across Kiri’s face but immediately noticing her mother’s gaze over Jake’s shoulder she let it disappear quickly. She wrapped both of her arms around you and then steered you away with Lo’ak and Spider following behind. She heard her mother’s protests as she walked away. Jake then turned to face his eldest son and the wife that he knew was looking to pick a fight at that moment.

Nodding in the direction the rest of you disappeared, he spoke to Neteyam, “Go.”

The eldest Sully sighed but listened anyway and began to walk away, his footsteps heavy against the ground. As soon as he was gone, Neytiri stepped towards her husband, a new fire evident in her eyes as her fangs glistened in the moonlight.

“This is not happening. Do you hear me? That thing is not staying here!”

“She’s just a kid,” Jake reasoned.

“No!” Neytiri met him chest to chest, voice reverberating as she dug deep inside to find the strength to remain calm, “She is a threat in a false body. You know that as much as I do. How are you not worried that there is another one?”

“Because I used to be one.”

Jake found himself getting just as angry, suddenly becoming very defensive over you after years of watching you grow up from afar. But all those years he had heard countless things from both Max and Norm as well as his children. You were no sky person, no enemy, looking to attack his family and his people. You were just a young girl who wanted to experience firsthand another life. That’s all.

At those words, Neytiri’s face softened, memories from years ago filtering through the back of her head like a movie. Jake Sully. A warrior of the jarhead clan. Looking to learn the ways to be able to see. He had sacrificed himself for her people and completely stole her heart in the process. He had proved himself.

“That was different.”

“Maybe so, but you need to realize that so is she,” Jake said earnestly, pointing over his shoulder towards the hut where his children resided, “I know you’re worried. Of course, you would be, after everything you have been through. You have been through hell, but so has she.”

“Jake,” she whispered his name and at that he reached forward both of his hands finding her arms.

“You are so quick to assume she is like the rest of them. But remember I was like them. When I got here, I was sent on a mission and I thought just as they had. I was careless, misunderstanding, and completely selfish. A complete skxawng, but then I met you. I met the Omatikaya people and you taught me how to see the world in a whole new way. I fell in love with this place and with you.”

Tears formed in her eyes as she stared at him, every word hitting her in the chest. His eyes never wavered from hers as he continued, “Y/N already sees so much more than I did when I came here. She has spent the majority of her life studying the ways that we live every day. Why do you think you have never seen her? Because she knows more than anyone that what her people did was horrible and unforgivable. She understands what we think of her kind and so she has stayed away. But somehow even with doing that she has caught the attention of our children and she has been so good to them.”

“They’re protective of her,” she noted, suddenly feeling some guilt over her hostility towards no more than a young woman who was in need of shelter and rest.

“Yes, and you should be so proud of them. You have taught them to protect the ones they love and they were doing just that.”

She nodded, a small smile ghosting over her lips. At his words and how right he was. She had taught them so many things and among them to find the good in people and keep it close to them at all costs. Somehow that was you and she couldn’t quite understand it yet.

Closing her eyes for a moment, she took a deep breath before meeting his eyes again, “I don’t know about this, ma Jake.”

One of his hands reached up and cupped her cheek just as soft raindrops began to fall from the sky, soaking into their skin. “I know, but so long ago you gave me a chance to prove myself. To prove that I could belong here. I think she deserves that as well. A chance.”

A moment of silence passed. Neytiri stared at the ground for a moment repeating his words over and over in her head. Finally, just as the rain got worse, she looked back up at him. Her mind was made up and she reached forward to lean her head toward his. With no other words, she simply nodded. It was barely even a movement but everything that was communicated to him was exactly what he needed to hear.

Jake smiled then and leaned forward kissing her forehead softly, “That’s my girl.”

Breaking away from one another, Neytiri took Jake’s hand in her own and began to walk towards the hut, all of her children had led you to. Thunder erupted for the third time just as a flash of light crossed the sky gaining their attention for a split second. As they approached the hut, light shined through the doorway. However, their eldest son sat outside just by the door, arms crossed over his chest, eyes set forward looking on to the village and the storm that had just arrived. Jake’s brows furrowed for a moment out of confusion at the sight, noticing how where the rest of his children seemed to be enthralled by you like a moth to a flame it was as if Neteyam wanted nothing to do with you. In fact, that protectiveness or any recognition of feeling didn’t seem evident to him. It was as if he had no interest in you at all. But at the way their son sat, stuck in his thoughts, almost so much so he hadn’t noticed them in front of him at first.

Neytiri stopped before him and nodded towards the hut, “Za’u (come).”

She entered then with Jake following behind. A few seconds later Neteyam entered behind them, steps faltering slightly as his eyes found yours. You were sitting on the floor, knees towards your chest. Kiri had ripped your shirt, almost entirely off to get access to the long cut. Dirt stuck to your shorts and was also littered across your face, and your long hair was pulled to one side to give more access to the wound. This was the first time he was seeing you with light. Your face now so much brighter, allowed him a moment to stare at your features and take them in, almost like he was going to file them away in his memory. Your eyes were screwed shut, your nose scrunched, and your lips formed into a tight line as you groaned and whimpered at the pain. Your shirt or what was left of it was coated in blood and Neteyam had to refrain from shifting at the sight of the bare skin of your shoulder and part of your chest. Even with the painful expression imprinted across your face, he couldn’t deny his sudden attraction towards you.

As your eyes opened at the sound of Neytiri clearing her throat, they met him instantly. He tore his away instead of looking over at his younger brother that seemed just as encapsulated by you as he was moments ago. Yours then shifted to Neytiri and Jake who both stood by the doorway soaked from head to toe. Her expression was unreadable and at the sight of her, you leaned back but didn’t look away. Kiri withdrew her hands away from the cut and her incessant cleaning to listen to what her parents, more so what her mother had to say.

“So you want to learn?”

The question took you by surprise so much that it took you almost thirty seconds to even respond with all eyes boring down on you. You were unable to form words so you nodded. It seemed she didn’t approve of that though as her eyes narrowed slightly. “Pivlltxe (speak)!”

“Yes.” Your voice was small, and they all took note of it. You cleared your throat and tried again, “Yes.”

Neytiri glanced over her shoulder at Neteyam who had been looking at you, but at the sight of his mother peering over at him, his stare dropped to the ground. The corner of her mouth quirked up in slight amusement as she then turned back to you.

“It is decided, my son will teach you our ways. To speak and walk as we do.”

Both of her sons’ heads shot up, sharing a look with their mother. Lo’ak let out a noise of approval as her words hit him straight in the face, “Really?”

Neytiri and Jake looked towards their youngest son and it was almost comical how quickly he assumed she was talking about him as if he knew how to teach and express the ways of Eywa and the Na’vi when all he had an interest in doing was creating trouble. Neytiri looked away from him to Neteyam who was staring at his mother expectantly, eyes wide and lips slightly parted. He was waiting for what she had to say.

Her hand gestured to him as she turned back to you, “Neteyam.”

Your heart stopped for a second or two as your eyes widened slightly. Glancing at each brother, you watched as their reactions unfolded. Lo’ak’s expression dropped, annoyance appearing as he huffed and folded his arms across his chest. The resentment was there for his brother and this was just another prime example he would use to build that up. Neteyam appeared as you did, a deer in headlights in complete shock but then as it set in that he was being given the responsibility to teach a dream walker the way of Eywa, he became spiteful. He stepped towards his mother and lowered his voice as if he was going to protest but she held up her hand silencing him.

“It is decided. You want to be Olo’eyktan someday and if you do this we’ll know you’re ready,” she repeated this time to only him, “You’ll start tomorrow.”

He let out a sigh, one that expressed he was giving up arguing, and instead glanced over at you to find the shocked look still on your face. Silence occupied the hut again as Neytiri with her expression softer towards you than it ever had been, nodded before stepping out of the hut to go to her own.

Jake directed his voice at you, “Get some rest.”

Just as he turned to follow his wife though, you spoke up, “Jake.”

He looked back at you. You smiled, “Thank you.”

A small wink was sent your way from the man. No other words were exchanged then and you watched as he left, his footsteps fading away. Neteyam still stood in the same spot, gobsmacked by the situation he had gotten put into. You looked at him expectantly and finally, he dared to meet your eyes.

He was irritated and it was evident in the way his shoulders were tense and squared up, his voice resembling anything but warm, “I’ll meet you outside tomorrow morning. Early tomorrow morning.”

He disappeared out into the night after that and you were left with some ease knowing that it was only Lo’ak, Kiri, and Spider left. Your whole body relaxed and you leaned against Kiri, your head falling upon her shoulder as Lo’ak still stood in the corner fuming at what had just happened.

With a deep breath, you lifted your head to Kiri and then shifted to Lo’ak, “What the fuck just happened?”

Kiri laughed, filling the room with a little more joy than previously had filled it, “They’re going to let you stay.”

“Yeah and she chose Neteyam to be the one…” Lo’ak said, his voice trailing off as his expression hardened in spite.

Kiri rolled her eyes at her brother and his sudden possessiveness over you but then let another laugh slip again as she realized something. You turned to her and her hand reached forward to push a loose piece of hair out of your eyes, her smile the only thing you could focus on.

“Wait until Tuk finds out about all this. Actually, wait until Tuk sees you.”

That night when you closed your eyes in that empty hut, the lantern blown out to leave you in complete darkness, you stared up out of the opening of the tent for a while, just watching the way the lightning lit up the sky almost with complete amplitude and deliberateness. Thunder rang in your ears while the sound of rain pelted against the side of the only shelter you had. It was dangerously beautiful just as this opportunity was. This opportunity to learn and prove yourself to the Na’vi. It was the eye of a storm, something so enticing and just begging you to walk out into the chaos. But even with all that, you felt the impending problems weighing down on your chest, all the possibilities that could go wrong.

You thought about it for a while before you fell asleep. When you woke up, you were staring up at a bright flashlight trailing across your eyes and two hands holding your face. You were no longer in the forest with the Omatikaya people, staring helplessly up at the ceiling of a hut but you were back in the camp, in a link pod, in your own body. It was blurry at first and then it all shifted, becoming entirely clear. Your eyes followed the lights as the voices of Max and Norm began to ring in your ears. Norm’s hands were cradling your head trying to get you to sit up in the link pod as Max was shining a flashlight in your eyes as if he had been trying to coax you back for hours. Their voices flooded your system and it felt so foreign at first but only for a second.

“That’s it, kid,” Norm said, slapping your cheek lightly, “Come on back.”

You blinked a couple of times and as you did your chest rose and fell from a deep breath as if you were grasping onto the oxygen trying to get in as much as you could. You coughed a couple of times.

Max turned the flashlight off, “That’s it.”

“You okay?”

You looked over at Norm and nodded almost as if you were unsure of the answer yourself. They helped you sit up with your legs swinging over the edge of the link pod while your hand rubbed your forehead like you were getting rid of a headache.

“What happened out there?” Max asked, his tone filled with worry, “Is the avatar safe?”

You cleared your throat, “Yeah. It’s safe.”

Norm shared a glance with Max, “Well where is it?”

“It's with the Omatikaya people in the village.”

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