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zepskies · 9 months

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Break Me Down - The Epilogue

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x Female Reader

Summary: You’re a private investigator by trade, but now you happily sit at a desk — leading a surveillance team at Supe Affairs. After managing to end Homelander in New York, Soldier Boy escapes custody. You are recruited for the manhunt, joining Butcher’s team.

Truly, you joined the S.A. for the right reasons. But after you become his accidental hostage, Soldier Boy will break down every single one of them…

💚 Break Me Down Masterlist

AN: This chapter is set about a month before "Love Actually." So...are you ready?

Song Inspo: For this last chapter, it’s “The Book of Love” by Peter Gabriel. (It’s just lovely. I listened to it while writing the second half of the epilogue!)

Word Count: 7,800 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Violence and peril, angst, familiar bickering, smutty smut, bit of breeding kink, tender fluff, hurt/comfort, and an ending…

Epilogue: All My Living Time

“I’m not fucking around,” he said. “I want you to live with me.”

Your smile was soft and bright when you took his hand. Ben wouldn’t admit it, but something in his chest stuttered to life then.

“Okay,” you said with a nod. “Let’s do it.”

Six months later…

You were frustrated with your roommate.

And yes, you used the word roommate, because he hadn’t seen fit to give it any other label.

You stewed in your irritation as you also stirred the beginnings of chicken tortilla soup. It was early in the morning before work, and Yvette had been teaching you how to master the crockpot. Hopefully, by the time you and Ben got home tonight, it would be ready and waiting for dinner.

Six months. You had to nag him about cabinets left open, dirty boots left right in front of the door to your shared apartment, and hell, actually going to his therapy sessions.

While that last one had taken months of convincing and cajoling, he’d caved when you suggested that acknowledging and dealing with what happened to him in Russia might help him control the nuclear power inside him. And maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t have to patch another hole in the ceiling.

Mind you, he wouldn’t actually talk to said therapist about anything related to his PTSD. But at least he was going. And the therapist was apparently getting an earful of Ben’s celebrity encounters, with all the explicit, gushy details.

However, even with all of this, it also sometimes felt like you were an in-house maid rather than a partner.

The latest reason for your frustration returned to you when Ben strolled into the kitchen in search of coffee. He wasn’t yet dressed for work in his supe suit; instead, still in the plain shirt and sweatpants he’d slept in.

He glanced at you, and seeming to sense your mood, he kept to himself as he found his usual mug and poured a cup of steaming French press in silence.

You took in a breath, trying to calm yourself. Maybe he’d had time to sleep on it. You closed the crockpot and went over to him. Your hand on his arm made him pause.

“Hey,” you said, “have you thought about what I asked you last night?”

Ben’s expression remained flat. “I think I already said my piece on that.”

You sighed.

“Why is dinner with my family such a hard thing for you?” you asked. Your brows furrowed. “My sister’s starting to warm up to you! And Mom just wants to get to know you. What’s the problem?”

Ben scoffed. “Your sister fucking hates me.”

You bit your lip. He wasn’t totally wrong, but in fairness, Louisa wasn’t happy to learn about why you’d nearly died in the hospital, when Vought Tower collapsed.

She thought you needed therapy for an egregious case of Stockholm Syndrome. But the more Ben worked with Supe Affairs, helping to clear the streets of out-of-control supes and cleaning up the remains of Vought, you were slowly getting Louisa to come around.

“She just needs time to get to know you too,” you said.

Ben wasn’t having it though. He rolled his eyes and tried to walk away from you with his coffee and a newspaper—aiming to get to his favorite lounge chair in the living room. It was the way he always started his morning, like the old man he was.

You followed him.

“Come on, one dinner won’t kill you,” you said. “And by the way, neither would moving your dirty-ass boots out of the doorway.”

You went over to grab said boots, and in your annoyance, you all but tossed them into the hall. Ben frowned at you, throwing down the newspaper onto the coffee table.

“Why’re you nagging me like a goddamn wife?” he snapped.

“Wife?” you scoffed, crossing your arms. “You don’t even call me your girlfriend.”

But God forbid another man even smile in your direction. Ben was possessive, protective, and claimed with all but words that you were his. And yet, he wouldn’t say it.

You shouldn’t have been surprised that he was afraid of commitment, but you’d been living together for six damn months. Almost seven, if you counted the safe house.

When you found this nice, but cozy apartment in Scarsdale, you’d sat him down at the breakfast bar in the kitchen, like the two of you used to in that house in Medellin.

And you established the ground rules before you two officially moved in together:

First, an exclusive relationship meant exclusive. Meaning no fucking around. (He’d raised a brow at you.)

Second, you were his partner, not his slave. You expected him to carry his hefty weight, not only in the relationship, but around the house. (He’d most definitely rolled his eyes at that.)

And finally, don’t be an asshole, you’d decreed. “Be honest when you’re not feeling right about something. But don’t be a dick about it.”

That cut both ways, of course, just like the other two rules. He’d agreed to all of these, albeit begrudgingly. You hadn’t really known then if he meant it.

And now, looking at him, you still had no idea if he was trying, or if he was just tired of being alone…and if you were just a convenient bedwarmer. You bit your lip once again, this time with a growing fear blooming anxiety in your chest.

“Do you even love me?” you asked.

Ben blinked down at you, and his lips pulled into a deep frown.

“Stop fucking around,” he said.

“I’m serious,” you insisted. Your crossed arms tightened, as if to protect yourself from what he might say. “You’ve never said it once.”

“And the fact that I agreed to live in this mediocre fucking apartment doesn’t mean anything?” he said, gesturing around him with a hand. “I take you out, I buy you shit. Matter of fact, I fucking spoil you.”

“And you take off whenever you feel like it, especially after missions,” you shot back. “Sometimes I don’t know where the hell you’ve gone for hours. For all I know, you’re out there doing blow with a caravan of strippers!”

While that did sound like a damn good time, that hadn’t been Ben’s M.O. in recent months. And in his mind, you should’ve known better.

“I haven’t fucked anyone but you since we moved in here,” he snapped.

Even longer than that, if he was honest.

Meanwhile, you wanted to trust his words, desperately, but you just didn’t know if you could.

“Even if I believe you, what’s the problem here?” you asked. Your gaze fell from his as you worried your bottom lip. “Am I doing something wrong?”

You didn’t see the way Ben’s brows knitted together, his eyes softening a bit.

“Other than annoying the hell out of me right now, no,” he replied.

“Okay,” you nodded with a sigh. You looked up at him again. “Then just tell me the truth. What are we doing here?”

“What the fuck do you mean?” Ben’s hands went to his waist, and once again, he frowned in irritation. “I’m here. What more do you want from me?”

“Do you love me?” you asked. “And don’t lie to me.”

He knew very well that you would be able to detect if he was lying. Which was why, you suspected, he hadn’t tried to.

He couldn’t seem to answer you though…and that broke your heart.

Shaking your head, you walked away from him to get ready for work.

Your attitude at work was snappish at best. Annie had pulled you from the Surveillance department on your lunch break to join her and your friends in the breakroom, but you couldn’t enjoy yourself like you usually would.

“Smooth and creamy, all the motherfuckin’ way,” M.M. said. Sitting across from him in the breakroom was Frenchie, pelting him with a roasted peanut.

“This is why you are an unsophisticated, bourgeois, fucking fuddy-duddy,” Frenchie remarked. He was also vaping, as Annie was trying to get him to stop smoking indoors. “Extra crunchy peanut butter is the only way to do business.”

“What’s the point? Just eat peanuts if you want it that crunchy,” M.M. countered. He blocked each roasted nut thrown at him and organized them in a perfect pile on the table.

“You know what? You’re right. Smooth and creamy is how I’ll eat out your mother’s sweet and savory vajine,” Frenchie teased.

M.M.’s deadpan face was priceless. But when a peanut projectile strayed and hit you in the cheek, you leveled Frenchie with a glare.

“Can you guys not act like children for five goddamn minutes?” you snapped.

His brows raised, along with his hands in surrender. M.M. and Annie looked at you in mild surprise, and the latter with concern after the guys eventually left.

“What’s going on with you? You’ve looked tense as hell all day,” she asked. You sighed, holding a hand to your brow.

“I know. I’m sorry,” you replied. She gave you a knowing look.

“Is…something going on?” she asked. “Is it Ben?”

Most of the S.A. was still wary of Ben, while M.M. tolerated him at best. (You understood how hard he was trying.)

You appreciated Annie though. She was a good friend, and along with Hughie, she’d been another who started to come around to the idea of Ben. Not only as he occasionally worked with the S.A., but to the man himself, after she’d seen the way he did his best to save you, Yvette, and her son Devon.

You nodded at her question. You couldn’t help the tears burgeoning in your eyes. Annie scooched her chair over so she could rub your back in comfort. You sniffed and tried not to break down here in the middle of the breakroom, over your sad ham sandwich.

“We had a fight,” you admitted. Annie’s gaze was tight with concern.

“Did he…hurt you?” she asked. Her brown eyes were as direct as her words, promising her protection as well as retribution, depending on how you answered.

Your glassy eyes widened. “No. He’s not like that, he…believe it or not, but he’s never hurt me, Annie. Not once.”

After a moment, she nodded. “Okay, good. Well, tell me what happened.”

You wanted to. But before you could, both of you got an incoming text in the team group chat. It was from Grace Mallory.

She had a new mission.

Grace asked you to join the team on your first field mission since you’d returned to work three months ago. She also called in Ben, as in her words, it was another “all hands on fucking deck” situation.

Ben and Butcher eyed one another with similar stoic frowns, before they proceeded to ignore each other. Despite how you felt about Ben right now, the brief exchange almost made you smirk.

Apparently the whole I saved you with my super blood thing was awkward for both of them. You knew Ben had seen it as a means to an end. You still didn’t know how Butcher felt about it, but it seemed as if a begrudging respect had formed between the two men.

Or at least, they were civil, anyway.

“All right,” Grace said, once she saw that everyone was in attendance. “Let’s begin.”

A supe named Sapphire had been giving the CIA trouble for years now. She was moving drugs from South America to the States, to the Middle East, whoever would deal with her. And she was smart. She had a network of spies that transcended continents, and so she had evaded every attempt at arrest.

She was also a powerful supe, with the ability to channel vaporizing energy not unlike Crimson Countess had. However, this supe could spear blue shards of light through her enemies as well. With her damn eyes.

Grace turned to you after she finished explaining the details of the mission.

“Sapphire’s internal security is advanced. Our system can’t penetrate her firewalls. You’ll need to get a hand on the mainframe from there, shut down her system. Then our Surveillance team can back you up here.”

You nodded, but in the corner of your eye, you noticed Ben frowning as he crossed his arms.

“What?” you asked.

“You’re out of practice,” he told you. “You really think you’re ready for this?”

“Why wouldn’t I be? I train every day,” you snapped back.

Ben’s expression fell into irritation. “Not the same, and you fucking know it.”

Butcher, Annie, and the others watched the exchange with mixed wariness and discomfort. Grace looked between you and Ben with curious, narrowed eyes.

“Is this going to be a problem, you two working together on this?” she asked.

You turned from Ben’s annoyed face and met Grace’s gaze directly.

“Not at all,” you said.

Sapphire had been spotted doing business in the Meat Packing District. By day, the building was a beef butchering factory. By night, it was apparently one of the most massive drug running operations in the city.

As such, her security team was extensive—at the front, the back, and the roof. So while Butcher, Kimiko, and Ben broke through the front, making a lot of noise and distraction, the rest of you went under.

Unfortunately, that meant the sewer. Annie lit the way through, while M.M. followed a set of schematics to find the right spot.

“It’s not my first time in the bowels of New York City, but please God, let it be the last,” Hughie quipped. You tried not to breathe the foul smell through your nose.

“Watch the fucking rat,” M.M. said with a grimace, before he set up the double-sided ladder he brought. He and Frenchie climbed either side of it up to the metal ceiling which, according to the building’s schematics, led directly beneath the factory basement.

They took up welding guns and masks to carve a large hole into the metal and cement above. And soon enough, they pushed up and slid over a large portion, creating a gap you could all crawl through.

M.M. helped Annie up first, and she shot a few star bolts at the three men inside, who had been smoking and eating deli sandwiches. Each of them went down, alive, but groaning in pain. That allowed the rest of you to climb up and into the basement.

“We’re in,” M.M. said into the Bluetooth communicator in his ear.

“We’re cutting through her goon squad,” Butcher said. “Sapphire’s here somewhere. I can smell a massive cunt already.”

“Gross. Thanks for that visual,” Annie remarked.

From there, you all took off toward the stairwell. It was your task to find the operation’s security control room. So Hughie and Frenchie went with you as backup, while M.M. and Annie went to join the fight and find Sapphire.

It took you a few tries to find the right room. Most of them were offices. One contained wagons of discarded meat parts (disgusting). But eventually, you found a large room filled with computer equipment and a huge wall monitor with several panels of camera feeds. You and Frenchie raised your guns and took out the team inside.

Then you and Hughie went to the controls. Frenchie watched the door while you worked to disable the firewall first. You instructed Hughie on how to knock out their communications as well. And within a few minutes, your work was done. You were able to make a call to the S.A. Surveillance team.

“Hey, friend!” a cheerful voice greeted you. You smiled; it was your coworker Jess, who you’d worked with for the past two years.

“Jess?”

“Yep! I’m helping out on this one. What do you need?”

“I shut down the firewall. I’m giving you the I.P. address now so you can connect.”

“…Okay, got it. I’m in. I can see all twenty cameras, and you! Hey, there.”

“All right, where’s Sapphire?” you asked.

“Looks like they haven’t found her yet,” Hughie said, pointing at the camera feed in the main room, filled with rows of conveyor belts, and a massive fight as Ben, Butcher, and the others made their way through the building.

“We’ll just have to help them clear each room,” you said. “Let’s go. Jess, keep an eye on us, but look out for Sapphire.”

“Will do. I’m patched into your comm now too,” she said. So you hung up your cell, and you left with Hughie and Frenchie.

You ran into more security when you left the room, more than the three of you could realistically handle as a fire fight began. You guys ran in the opposite direction, but while you veered right around the corner, Frenchie and Hughie ran left. Bullets tore in between, making sure that none of you could cross the hall to join back up.

“You guys keep going. I’ll find my own way out,” you called out to them. Neither of them liked that idea, but Frenchie nodded and pulled Hughie away when Sapphire’s security team closed in.

You kept running down the hall. You knew you were being chased. Several heavy footsteps thundered behind you.

“Jess, I need a way out of here,” you commed in.

“You’re on the second floor,” she said. “The closest stairwell is the one you’re running away from.”

“What’s the second closest?” You panted as you ran.

“Hmm, you can cut through room 234. The exit stairwell is right on the other side.”

“Is the room clear?” you asked.

After a moment, Jess answered. “Yep, it should be.”

"Should be?”you said dubiously.

“What the hell’s going on?” you heard Ben’s voice on the line. You heard the edge of his annoyance (and underlying worry), but you didn’t have time to talk to him right now.

“Looks clear on my end,” said Jess,“but this connection is a bit wonky.”

Damn it, Jess, you thought. When you reached room 234, the door was solid gray. There was no window to peek into, and you didn’t have time for caution, as a stray bullet nearly caught you in the head.

You ripped the door open and ran in, slamming the door shut behind you and locking it for good measure.

You turned around and stopped short. A gasp caught in your throat.

The room was huge, and it was filled wall-to-wall with white packages, of what you could only assume was cocaine. A few men were continuing to stack them. At the center of it all was a tall woman, rich tan skin, long black hair, wearing a deep blue pantsuit and killer heels. She looked like a boss ass bitch.

But unfortunately, she was also looking straight at you, raising a brow.

“Ah,” she said. A smile curved her lips, painted with a dark plum lipstick. “You’re one of the little bitches making a mess in my office.”

Her eyes glowed blue, and yours widened. You dove for the nearest shelter—a wall of cocaine parcels. White powder exploded and wafted in the air as you ducked and ran across the room (and tried not to inhale). You drew your gun and shot out the legs of her men underneath the long stretch of table, but you yelped as bullets continued to follow you.

“I found Sapphire! Need backup in 234!” you shouted into the comm.

But when a blast of blue energy rocked into the wall directly behind you, you screamed as you were thrown forward. You landed painfully on your side, with the wind knocked out of you.

After a moment, you drew breath into your lungs and were able to pick yourself up. The exit door was close, a mere few feet away, but the second you reached for it, you had to pull back as narrow blue shards of light pierced the door.

Sapphire was quickly approaching, just a yard or so away from grabbing you.

Instead of shooting your gun, you went for the taser at your belt and shot fast. Sapphire grabbed the end of the line like a fucking moron. Her blue eyes widened in outrage and pain when it shocked 50,000 volts of electricity through her body.

You took your chance, and you ripped the door open and fled. You just didn’t expect the bolt of energy that shot after you when you reached the stairs.

It didn’t hit you, but trying to dodge it made you lose your balance. You uttered a short scream as you were forced to jump the first flight of stairs.

You landed on the middle platform between the first and second floor. This time, you knew you twisted your ankle badly on the way down. You whimpered, holding your ankle and shin, but you knew you didn’t have time to waste.

It was a struggle to claw your way up to the guard rail. You could barely put pressure on your right foot, but you had no choice as you scrambled down the rest of the stairs. Already the door to the stairwell was blown open, and a pissed supe was on her way down behind you.

After shoving the door open on the first floor, you stumbled out and took another painful spill across the concrete floor. To your relief, M.M. picked you up by your arms.

The door behind you swung open, and before Sapphire could fire off a vaporizing blow, Ben raised his new titanium shield in front of you and M.M.

The blue energy bounced right off, and Ben used his shield to bat the supe right in the face—like swatting a fly. With a shriek, she was thrown hard against the wall.

Sapphire sunk to her knees, then the electric blue flickered out of her eyes as she fell unconscious to the floor.

When you all returned to Supe Affairs, Ben thundered down the hall towards the Surveillance department.

“Ben!” You hurried after him the best you could with a sprained ankle, bare-footed and wrapped, while M.M. and Hughie trailed behind. The others were busy getting Sapphire into custody.

Hughie was concerned for you though, while M.M. also wanted to know how you were going to try and reign in Soldier Boy.

“What the hell are you doing?” you called after Ben.

“I wanna know what goddamn moron cleared that fucking room,” he barked, but he didn’t slow down.

M.M. called your name from behind.

“Get your boyfriend in check,” he warned.

You sighed in irritation. At this point, you didn’t even know if he was your boyfriend.

But you struggled to reach him. You were practically hopping on one foot. The moment you tried to put any pressure on your right one, you faltered with a cry as you all but crashed against the wall to catch yourself. Hughie went to help you, grabbing your arm gently with a supportive hand on your back.

You didn’t see it, but that was when Ben stopped short. His jaw ticked. And he turned on his booted heel. When he saw you struggling to support yourself against the wall, he reluctantly went back. He knocked Hughie’s scrawny hands off you and wrapped an arm around your waist.

When he tried to just gather you into his arms to get the weight off your injured foot, you snapped at him.

“I can walk!” you said. “Let’s just go home please.”

His nostrils flared in irritation, but he helped you try to walk back toward the exit instead. You winced in pain with every small step.

Ben growled in annoyance. Fuck this.

He hefted you effortlessly into his arms. You gasped and clung to his shoulders, and afterwards, you glared at him.

“I said I can walk!” you insisted.

“Shut up,” he grated out, swiftly heading for the exit doors down the hall. M.M. and Hughie watched with wide eyes while you and Ben devolved into what you did best.

“Don’t tell me to shut up!” you raised your voice.

He glared at you. “You’re in rare fucking form right now.”

“You’re the one being an asshole!”

“And you’re being a disrespectful brat!”

You rolled your eyes as anger burned hot in your veins. “What-fucking-ever, grandpa.”

Ben’s teeth clicked and grinded together. It took everything he had within him not to toss you.

“You really wanna fucking get it, don’t you?”

“Suck my dick. How about that?” you sassed back, unfazed by his warning.

Ben bulldozed through the double doors with a swift kick that shook them on their hinges. The bickering continued long after you two exited the building.

Hughie just stared, mouth gaping, while M.M. crossed his arms.

“That is some volatile shit,” Hughie remarked.

M.M. scoffed, with a subtle shake of his head.

“Nah, man,” he said ruefully. “That’s true motherfuckin’ love.”

Meanwhile, in the car, Ben drove home to Scarsdale. You simmered in the passenger seat. He glanced at you.

“Are you gonna be a hissy bitch all night?” he asked. You glowered at him.

“You’re the fucking grouch,” you shot back. In times like these, you liked to fantasize. Sometimes you wished you could rip out his spine and play Jenga with the vertebrae.

“And you’re the one who nearly got yourself killed,” he retorted.

You took issue with this, your brows raising high.

“Excuse me? You’re really blaming me for what happened with Sapphire? You were ready to take out my friend for making an honest mistake.”

His gaze briefly left the road, turning to you in frustration. He didn't understand how you couldn't get it through your thick skull. You had been one shaky step shy of being fucking vaporized today.

No blood. No body. Just...nothing.

“Case in point, you’re the best in Surveillance," he said gruffly. "You don’t need to be in the field."

His compliment stopped you, warming you a little, but he was missing the point.

“I go where I’m needed, just like you,” you said. “You don’t get to tell me how, when, or where to do my job.”

Needless to say, it was tense for the rest of the way home.

Ben helped you inside, after which, you were determined to get to the bedroom by yourself. He watched you hop away from him with a frustrated shake of his head.

He sighed and started to peel off his gloves and untie his boots…but instead of leaving them by the door, like he usually would, he kept walking until he made it to the bedroom he shared with you. He sat on the edge of the bed and took his boots off there.

He watched you ignore him as you closed yourself into the bathroom.

You came out of the shower a little while later. Your hair was damp, but unwashed as you hadn’t been able to stand there for very long. The wrap on your ankle had gotten wet, so you grabbed the spare one that the paramedic had given you.

Ben didn’t look at you as he took his turn heading into the bathroom. After the door shut, your shoulders slumped with a sigh.

You tried to put on some shorts, but you quickly gave up and instead put on an overlarge shirt over your underwear. You remembered then that this shirt was an old one of Ben’s, and now a favorite of yours, because it still smelled like that earthy mix of his cologne and aftershave.

Frowning, you sucked in a deep breath. And you made a decision.

By the time Ben came back out with a towel wrapped around his hips, he found you still in the bedroom. Except you were packing a suitcase—the same one he’d brought to the safe house he’d shared with you for a month.

You were stuffing clothes into it from your side of the dresser. Something churned uncomfortably in his stomach, and he approached you.

“What the fuck are you doing?” he demanded to know.

You glanced up at him, but continued packing.

“Well, you made yourself very clear this morning that we’re just roommates. So I’m going to the guest room.”

“All right, don’t get all fucking hormonal,” he said, reaching out with a hand to stop you. You snatched your hand away from him. His brows raised in disbelief.

When you tried to get past him on the way to your closet, he held fast to your arm. With an angry frown, he then grabbed your suitcase and spilled it over onto the bed. You didn’t need a fucking suitcase to move one room over. Not that he planned to let you go any-damn-where.

“Enough,” he said sharply.

You met his intense stare with your own, but your eyes were shining and red. In that moment, you both stilled. The silence was palpable. For you, it was heartbreaking.

“I can’t do this anymore, Ben,” you confessed. Tears welled up in your eyes, but you refused to let them fall just yet. “I put my all into this, and I just…I can’t be with someone who won’t be honest with me.”

You started to grab your suitcase again, along with your discarded clothes. Ben stopped you.

“I said enough,” he snapped.

You then threw the heap of clothes to the floor, suitcase and all.

“Why?” you tearfully retorted. “Why should I listen to you?”

His deep green eyes searched yours. For what, you didn’t know.

Eventually, you started to see through the cracks of his anger.

“Because I fucking love you,” he said.

You blinked up at him, with hope stuck in your throat. But you were stubborn in your denial.

“You’re just saying that to get me off your back,” you argued. “Either you’ve just gotten used to having me around, or you just don’t feel like being alone. But you don’t really care about me.”

You knew you were saying words you didn’t mean.

You knew that wasn’t true…but you couldn’t help it.

You were more upset than angry now, seconds away from dissolving into pitiful tears. You were just stubborn enough to hold them at bay.

“Just shut up for one goddamn second,” Ben said. He held you by your shoulders, though his hands soon moved down to grip your arms. It wasn’t a painful hold, but it was firm, and quite possibly pleading.

Despite your better judgment, you gave him time to speak.

“You really think I’d stay here in this shithole if I didn’t want you?” he asked. “If I didn’t care about you?”

You unconsciously held your breath. For a long moment, he hesitated to continue.

Again, you waited for him.

Meanwhile, Ben knew he was being a coward. He’d been holding back. Not because he wasn’t serious about you, but because he’d been burned before.

He knew he’d spent his life being a fucking bastard, in most ways. He knew he’d been wrong, and hadn’t given two shits about it. But Crimson Countess…Tess…he’d been willing to settle down with her. He’d actually told her he loved her and hadn’t been totally lying through his teeth.

Yeah, he’d fucked around. Flirted with other women in front of her. He knew he was a hypocrite. Still, in whatever way he could at the time, he thought he’d loved her.

And she’d lied to him. She’d gone through the motions of being with him. For fame or fear or whatever her reasons had been, she went along with it. And then she’d sold him out, along with the rest of their team.

For nothing. Just to get him the fuck out of her life—out of the world.

So what was he supposed to do with you? Just let you walk the fuck in, give you the deepest parts of him? A dark fucking space that he’d never given to anyone.

Well, he knew now if he didn’t, you were going to leave. But he wasn’t willing to let go either.

So…he relented. For once in his life, he told the truth.

“I love you,” Ben admitted. “In my whole damn life…I think you’re the only one who’s made me feel it for real.”

Tears finally slipped down your cheeks. You reached out and grasped his wrist, mostly for stability as you took in his words. He took that hand, held it to his warm chest. Always warm.

“But one day, I’m still going to fucking lose you,” he said, looking down on you. “Then I’ll be right back where I started.”

Alone.

You looked up at him with a sad, rueful smile.

“Not exactly where you started,” you replied. He wasn’t the same man you met last year. You pressed your free hand to his cheek.

“Taking Compound V doesn’t guarantee I’ll come out like you, with a longer lifespan.”

“It’s something the CIA can work on,” Ben said.

“You want Dr. Baker to experiment on me?” you asked, quirking a brow. The CIA had recruited her, ironically enough.

Ben closed his eyes for a second, letting out a slight huff. “That’s not what I’m fucking saying.”

You nodded and soothed your fingers through his hair.

“Okay, we’ll have that conversation. I promise.” Then you smiled. “But let me just have this moment…my boyfriend loves me.”

You looked into his eyes and you knew he meant it. His hands moved to your waist, around to the small of your back. You clung to his shoulders and shifted off your aching ankle with a wince. Ben noticed, and he raised you up to him. It had the added benefit of letting you reach his face easier.

He guided you into a searing kiss. You responded in kind, delving into his hair again and opening your mouth to his demanding tongue. With the tips of your toes, you pushed up from the ground and he helped you wrap your legs around his waist.

The towel he wore was starting to slip, and you shoved it the rest of the way off with your foot, until he stood in the center of the bedroom in all his glory.

He smirked into your lips and walked you to the bed. But before he could lay you down, you broke the kiss and held his face.

“You really love me?” you asked, just to make sure. It was the part of you, perhaps still scarred deep down, that had to ask.

Ben chuckled. He rested his forehead against yours. “You’re mine, sweetheart. Don’t you fucking forget it.”

You grinned, and you kissed him this time, only breaking when he lowered down to the bed. Once your back met the plush mattress, all bets were off. He wrenched your shirt up over your head, and you reached for him again.

Your lips drew a hot, wet path from his jawline to his neck, biting and sucking all along the way to that sensitive spot between his neck and shoulder. His hand clenched in your hair, a deep sound caught in his throat when he felt the sharp sting of your teeth, playfully biting, then soothing with your tongue.

Your nails bit into his skin, but merely felt like teasing down his back, making a shiver trill along his spine. He all but pressed you into the mattress as he made his own descent.

Your fingers trailed up and into his hair while his mouth worked its way down between your breasts, stopping to lavish attention on each one. You made sounds of pleasure when he took a hardened nipple between his lips, between his teeth, dragging deliciously over your skin.

Your thighs wrapped around his hips again, He bucked teasingly into your clothed core, making you moan when you felt his wet tip dampening your panties.

“Ben…”

His lips curved, but he didn’t answer you. His fingers were pressing into the flesh of your thigh as he continued to tease your breasts. You’d felt how hard he was already and frankly, you were surprised he was taking his time.

“Listen,” you panted in his ear. “You’ve gotta wrap it up this time. Do we even have condoms?”

You knew for a fact that Ben didn’t buy them.

But his brows furrowed. His mouth left your breast as he looked up at you.

“What?”

“I haven’t replaced my IUD yet,” you confessed. Its five-year lifespan had been up, and so you’d gotten the birth control device removed a few days ago.

Now, you watched in amusement at the way his lips curved into a pleased grin.

“No, don’t you even think about it,” you warned. Though you almost laughed at how excited he looked. “We’re not ready for that.”

“Why fucking not?” Ben asked. His pressed his length against your core more insistently. The idea of fucking you raw, spilling into you, putting his seed deep inside you without resistance, had his cock throbbing with anticipation.

“Ben!” You had to laugh. You two hadn’t even been living together that long, and you had just gotten on the same page after six months of trying to figure out what you were together.

“Don’t tell me you don’t want kids,” he said. And he began to ply you with tantalizing kisses along the column of your throat, down your neck, the scraping of teeth making you shudder in delight.

“I do,” you could admit. “But is right now really the best ti—”

He choked a moan out of you as his fingers pushed your underwear aside and spread your folds, then delved right in. Your core pulsed, hot and wet as his thick digits sunk deep inside you.

“God,” you uttered, gripping his hair tight. He stretched and explored your inner channel with two fingers, while his thumb found your clit with ease.

“When then?” he asked. But his hand was unrelenting, working you over until your toes curled and the coil in your lower belly began to tighten. You looked up at him helplessly.

“Can we talk about this later?” you keened. Ben smirked and suddenly withdrew his fingers from your dripping pussy. He snatched your underwear, ripping them down the middle and making you gasp.

“No time like the fucking present,” he insisted. He lined himself up to your entrance, but you stopped him with a warning look. You knew if you let him inside you now, he was going to try and get his way.

“Ben,” you warned.

He sighed and let you stop him, but then his teasing edge faded.

Ben pressed a hand to your cheek. When he leaned down to kiss you, you felt the need and wanting behind it.

He pulled away to meet your eyes. You softened looking up into his, because you understood what he wanted.

“We have time, baby,” you promised, stroking his chin. “We’ll have a family…just give us some time.”

He was disappointed…but he nodded. Sighing again through his nose, he clenched a hand into the now tangled mess of your hair.

“Say it,” he demanded. “Say you’re fucking mine.”

Your eyes widened. In all of this, you’d forgotten to be honest yourself.

“Of course I’m yours,” you said. “I love you, Ben. So much, I can hardly take it.”

He closed his eyes with furrowed brows. It had been a very long time since he’d heard those words. Maybe the first time someone had said them with any real sincerity, besides his mother.

You encouraged him to look at you, both with your voice and your hand gently touching his face. And when he opened his eyes, you marveled at the depths there.

Smiling, you guided him back to your lips. It was slow and sweet…until it wasn’t, deepening in passion and urgency again. Need burned inside you, so deep and strong that you couldn't take it anymore.

You slipped a hand between you to grasp his still hard cock. You caressed him a few times, letting your thumb circle around the sensitive head. Ben couldn’t help thrusting into your hand, releasing a grunt. His eyes briefly closed again as you pressed open-mouthed kisses to his neck, down his chest.

“I need you,” you whispered against his skin. Ben nodded while you held his length poised at your entrance. He raised your hips, tucking your ankles over shoulders. For your injured one, he rubbed your calf.

“What a fuckin’ trooper,” he said with a smirk.

You smiled, but it soon fell into a moan as he began to push inside you. Every time, he stretched and filled you completely. Your inner walls wrapped around him and already fluttered with heat.

“Fuck, baby doll. Got me tight as a damn glove,” Ben remarked. You had to giggle, but that just squeezed him harder. When he began to move, it was all you could do to cling to his shoulders.

As basic as the position was, you liked being able to see his face. You knew when to spur him on, and when to just hold on for dear fucking life. But above all, he was a skilled man, and you enjoyed watching him work.

You were so consumed by it that when he came, it took both of you by surprise. He spilled into you hot and deep, but he still filled you with ragged thrusts, which hit that special place inside that made your entire body shudder with pleasure. You couldn’t help but come apart with him.

Your nails bit fruitlessly into his skin as your voice rose on a high moan. The two of you panted for breath, and he pulled out and let down your legs back to the bed. Once you felt the telltale dripping of his release slipping down from between your legs, your eyes widened.

Oh shit, you thought. “We forgot the condom.”

Ben stared down at you, first in confusion, then in surprise. And finally, with a broad, Cheshire-like grin.

You laid a hand over your eyes as you relaxed into the pillow behind your head, trying not to laugh.

“I can’t believe we just did that,” you said.

“We? I was following your lead,” Ben said. He moved to lay beside you in full satisfaction, folding his hands over his chest. He looked like the cat that caught the horny-ass canary.

"Haven't you heard of, oh, I don't know, pulling out?" you quipped. Ben rose a brow at you, still with that smug look on his face.

"Not my philosophy, sweetheart," he said.

Your mouth dropped open incredulously. Your gaze narrowed, but looking into his gleaming eyes, you really just had to laugh. His smile grew.

Ugh. Whatever, you thought. For now, you closed your legs and moved over to rest your head on his shoulder. He welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

What’re the chances that I’m ovulating anyway? you thought.

After a beat, you huffed another laugh. With your luck, you’d definitely have to stop at a drugstore for a pregnancy test.

And yet, in times like these, you were happy that you caved when Ben insisted on installing a TV in the bedroom. After you both got cleaned up, it was nice to fall into bed like you used to and find something new to watch together.

There were so many things you wanted him to catch up on, and he was generally game for whatever you thought he might like.

Three episodes of The Office later though, you stopped laughing so much and fell into your thoughts. Ben noticed, tugging on a loose strand of your hair.

“What’s the matter?”

“You really think our apartment is a shithole?” you asked.

He shrugged. “I might’ve embellished.”

“Seriously. If you’re not comfortable here—”

“I’m comfortable,” he said, turning his gaze to you. “Why’re you asking me that now?”

“I don’t know,” you said. “I just want you to be happy here. I want this to feel like home for both of us, but not like, boring either.”

He smirked. “Hence the caravan of whores and blow.”

You shook your head with a laugh. But he still saw you trying to stem off that worry. That all this wasn’t enough for him.

Well, Ben could complain about being cramped in this three-bedroom apartment…but he knew that when he came home, he wouldn’t be alone.

He’d be able to see your stuff on the nightstand, by your side of the bed, your half of the closet, your sweet-smelling soaps and lotions in the bathroom. All of that was familiar to him now.

It was home, he supposed. And so were you.

The beginnings of a softer smile curved his lips, but he edged it into a smirk.

“You’ve got something they don’t,” he said.

“What’s that?” you asked, raising a brow.

“You try the ever-living fuck out of my patience,” he said, “unlike anyone on the planet.”

With a giggle, you rolled over onto his arm and chest, resting your head on his shoulder.

“Buuut…?”

He conceded with a nod, if also a roll of his eyes. His arm lifted to once again slip around your waist.

“But no matter how fucked up it got, you stayed.”

With me, his tone implied.

“That’s more than anyone else in my goddamn life,” he said.

And that made you tear up all over again.

“So you’re staying,” you clarified, only half-teasing.

It reminded you of when you’d sat tied to a chair, wondering why the hell Soldier Boy would want to let you live. You could’ve never known it then, but you’d stared straight into the face of your future.

You didn’t know if Ben was remembering the same thing, but he smiled a little, brushing away your tears with his thumb.

“I’m staying,” he replied. Your smile brightened, and you leaned up for a kiss.

“Then we’re square,” you whispered against his lips.

He chuckled and deepened the kiss. He turned off the TV, chucking the remote further down the bed and turned to trap you beneath him again.

“Nope.” You finished wiping your eyes and pushed against his chest. “You’re not finessing me twice. Go find a damn condom.”

He gave you a grumpy look. “Fucking killjoy.”

“You’re ridiculous,” you laughed. You reached up and took his face in your hands.

“I promised, didn’t I?” you reminded. “We’ll get there.”

His gaze searched yours.

“Soon, not someday,” he said. You nodded, soothing your thumb across his cheek.

“Soon,” you agreed. And you reminded him, even as your throat constricted once more with emotion. “Ben, I love you…God, I love you. And I’ve never wanted this with anyone but you.”

Ben paused, but after a moment, he nodded in acceptance. You were grateful for it. Even though you weren’t quite ready yet, he wasn’t the only one who wanted a family.

While your fractured past and upbringing made it hard for you to move past your fears, your insecurities, you knew that this man made you feel safe.

For the first time in your life, you also felt whole.

Soon enough, you’d be brave too.

AN: That's all, folks. Been a great ride...

Ha! Just kidding. I'm nowhere near done with these two, even with this long-ass epilogue lol.

But honestly, no matter what part of the journey you jumped into with this story, thank you so much for sticking with me until the end. It's truly been one of my favorite stories ever to write. And I'm so glad I got the chance to share it with you. 🥹💚🥹

Next Time:

Ready for Part 2 (of 3) of "Love Actually"?

(AKA: Ben is forced to attend Christmas dinner to meet his girlfriend's whole family.)

Here's a sneak peek:

“Hey. What’s taking so damn long?” he asked. His brows were furrowed, mouth set in an aggravated frown. “I already told you. I’m not planning on being at this thing all night. So if you don’t come down here in the next ten minutes, I swear to fucking Christ—”

Ben stopped short, as he heard your footsteps at the top of the stairs. When he looked up with expectant, pursed lips, his face subtly froze.

“What? What’re you gonna do?” you teased. Tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, you grasped the guardrail and carefully made your way down the stairs. These heels were no joke...

😂 Until then, let me know what you thought of the BMD finale! 💚💚

Soldier Boy Masterlist

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#The Epilogue #the boys #soldier boy #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x female reader #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #the boys season 3 #soldier boy/ben x reader #the boys au #enemies to lovers #frenemies to lovers #private investigator!reader #the boys amazon #soldier boy smut #break me down #Part 18 #zepskies writes

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littlejuicebox · 2 months

Text

Beach babies.

Man oh man Dadstarion! My mind could probably come up with a thousand scenarios for this theme.

This one might make you all cry. But like, happy tears? Maybe?

Summary: It’s a day at the beach with toddler Gale, pregnant Tav, and Dadstarion. Gale loves his Papa and always wants to look just like him; this presents a problem.

Tags/Warnings: fluff, light mentions of Astarion ptsd/trauma, in game spoilers, kids, parenthood, toddlers, pregnancy, light angst w comfort, comment if you see anything else I’m missing

Astarion didn’t particularly enjoy the beach. It was often crowded, feeling coarse grains of sand stuck between his toes unnerved him, and it was impossible to find a good vintage for miles unless you brought it yourself.

Which, today, he did.

“Loving the sun and loving the beach are two different things, entirely, my sweet.” The elf drawls as he takes a sip of wine from his goblet.

You, Astarion, and almost-three-year old Gale are all sitting on a woven blanket inside a rather ostentatious canopy tent, taking a respite from playing in the water with the toddler. The canopy had been Astarion’s choice — he’d refused to have any beach days without it this year. As it was Gale’s last summer as an only child, and your first born adored the beach, you’d reluctantly agreed to the ridiculous shelter in exchange for two more planned beach days on behalf of your toddler.

Astarion remarked that perhaps you should have used your strong negotiation skills rather than your community service as the main focus of your political platform all those years ago.

And then you won the familial negotiation. Though you still think your old camp tent would have sufficed just fine.

You sigh at your husband, “I suppose. But I seem to remember you being quite content with rolling around in the dirt once upon a time.”

You’re watching Gale as he scoops sand into a bucket. His face is covered in the remnants of fruit juice from his lunch, and his little silver curls are bouncing around in the wind. He’s wearing a thin, white cotton shirt and striped cotton swim trousers — the outfit is basically a child’s version of your husband’s.

Daddy and his mini-me.

Astarion chuckles, “Yes, well… we didn’t have much choice in the matter back then, did we, little love. And for the thousandth time, I did have a blanket set up in that clearing—“

“I never saw it!” You interject, “So for all I know, you’ve simply decided to tell me that to cover your ah— butt.”

A huff from your husband as he rolls his eyes at you, “My love, have I ever lied to you?”

Your eyes narrow, and you open your mouth, about to retort when the elf catches his mistake and is quick to amend his statement.

“Have I ever lied to you after our talk at Moonrise Towers all those years ago?” He asks, cocking his head just slightly, convinced he’s proven his point.

You pause as your mind plays through years of memories. And then you grin playfully, “Yes! The night you proposed and told me you found those gold coins on the dock.”

The elf scoffs incredulously, “You are a pain in the ah— butt. You know what I mean, Tav. Have I ever lied to you to intentionally hurt or manipulate you since then? Or to gain your favor?”

You chuckle and turn yourself slightly — it’s no easy feat, given the size of your pregnant stomach — moving to peck your husband on the cheek, “No, my love. I don’t suppose you have.”

Astarion hums happily as he finishes off his goblet, “Very well then, dear. I trust that means you believe me when I say I did have a blanket in that clearing and you simply couldn’t keep your hands—“

“Mommy! I too hot!” Gale suddenly cries.

When the two of you turn to acknowledge the toddler, he’s thrown his shovel and started thrashing his feet, kicking up grains of sand in the process.

Today was sweltering in comparison to the other days you’d spent at the beach. The canopy was unable to protect all three of you from the worst of the mid afternoon heat.

You sigh and hold your hand out to the toddler, “Gale, come here and let mommy take your shirt off. It’s too hot to be—“

“NO!” The little boy shrieks before standing up and stomping on the sand castle he’d just spent several minutes building, “I want look like daddy!”

“My love, you and daddy will still be in matching pants even if your shirt is off.” You coo, hoping your voice will soothe Gale, though you know the logic is far beyond what an almost-three-year old can understand.

Astarion does not take his shirt off in public. He hasn’t since your days in camp all those years ago, when it had been an unfortunate necessity from time to time. But he always hated it.

His scars are not something Astarion is particularly fond of revealing; even your former campmates have never caught sight of his back since the old days. You know as much. So your only choice, really, is to try and reason with the child.

It’s not working.

Gale is crying now, and his growing frustration is quickly making him overheated. His face and body are both turning red as he wails. Despite the magic dampener around his neck, you both know there will soon be a gust of wind knocking the entire tent down if he isn’t soothed.

“Gale, darling, won’t you please let mommy—“

You’re cut off by a shrill scream. The toddler becomes more red; large patches of crimson are splotched across his face and arms. The breeze is starting to pick up quite suspiciously. It won’t be much longer before—

“Look, Gale! Look at daddy!” Your husband exclaims, and when you glance to the side, you see that Astarion has willingly ripped off his own shirt. The muscle feathering in his jaw shows his discomfort, despite the fact the tent is shielding his back from any potential onlookers.

This catches the little boy’s attention. His green eyes snap open and he begins to relax as he examines his father and realizes the older man is, in fact, shirtless. Gale giggles and then tries to rip his own shirt off, though it gets caught around his neck and Astarion has to lean forward to help him.

The toddler grins at his father, “We match ‘gain, daddy!”

And then he’s back to playing in the sand, the entire tantrum all but forgotten on his part.

You quietly watch your husband, where he is still sitting nearly frozen, clearly working through something in his own mind. He’s wearing that faraway, glassy look in his eyes. The look has become exceedingly rare over time, but still rears its ugly head every once in a while.

Your hand finds its way to Astarion’s, where he’s dug it down into the sand, simply trying to clutch onto something in an attempt to keep himself together.

When your fingers brush against your husband’s, his eyes snap to you, and he’s pulled from whatever thought had been racing through his mind as he threads his fingers through yours. Now he’s clutching onto you.

“You’re a good father, you know.” You murmur, focusing your eyes on your husband’s as you rub the back of his hand with your thumb. A moment of silence passes between the two of you as he simply nods in acknowledgment, unable to bring himself to say anything as he sits in discomfort. Gale is singing happily as he scoops more sand into his bucket, oblivious to the two of you.

You flash a wide grin at Astarion and his eyebrows crinkle as he watches you, not understanding why.

“I think the twins think so, too, daddy.” You whisper, and you bring his sandy hand to your stomach, where the first few flutterings of movement can barely be felt beneath the stretching skin.

For just a moment, Astarion forgets himself as he beams and moves to place a kiss on the swell of your abdomen. Anyone looking at your family might have caught the quickest glimpse of his scars in that single, fleeting instance. But then the moment is gone, and he lays down with a sigh, obscuring his back completely.

“I just did it because I couldn’t be bothered to pitch the tent again if Gale accidentally blew it down, my love.” Your husband says in that offhanded, airy way of his that he uses whenever he’s feeling particularly vulnerable.

And right there, you think that may be the second lie Astarion has ever told you since your discussion at Moonrise Towers all those years ago.

But you’ll let that one slide.

#astarion fanfic #astarion x tav #baulders gate astarion #astarion fic #astarion x reader #astarion x you #astarion x f!reader #astarion x female reader #astarion reader insert #dadstarion #dadstarion fic #Papastarion

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randxmthxughts · 1 year

Text

All For You - Neteyam x Ta'unui ! reader (enemies to lovers) - pt. 1

*Ta'unui is the Eastern Sea water clan that was attacked by Quaritch

masterlist

part 2

summary: When Quaritch attacks the Ta’unui water clan looking for Jake Sully, the clan’s Tsahik forces her younger sister, Y/N, to escape and seek refuge from the Metkayina clan. As Y/N deals with the trauma of losing her home, she discovers that she isn’t the only outlander in the village. She develops conflicted feelings for Neteyam but the tensions grow when Y/N finds out that Neteyam is the son of Jake Sully - the man she hates.

genres/tropes: angst, romance, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers, grumpy x sunshine, slowburn

other pairings: Loak x Tsireya, Kiri x Ao’nung, platonic relationships (Y/N x Kiri x Tsireya, Y/N x Jake, Y/N x Neytiri)

warnings: war, mentions of blood, PTSD, trauma, survivor guilt, character near-death experience, slightly aged up neteyam, dialogues are supposed to be in na'vi, not english, lots of side eyes, braids swaying, and neteyam appearing out of nowhere like the batman lol

word count: 30,2k (ik this is insane)

a/n: i’m so sorry because this is so long but i spent about two weeks working on it night and day, and i have never been so hyper fixated on a character before. i would love for this not to flop bc otherwise i might feel a little dumb, so if you enjoy it, please spread some love :) i always go through the reblogs to see if anyone said anything in the tags, so…

the set up is a little slow but bear with me

____

It all happened in a blur. You always believed that in a time of danger, you would be skilled and strong enough to protect your clan. But as you watched the sky demons, disguised as Na’vi, pointing their weapons at your people and burning your homes, you felt like a useless coward. If it wasn’t for your sister’s, Tsahik’s, quick thinking of causing a distraction and pushing you into the water, you would have been dead by now. She sacrificed herself for you to live.

You can’t make out how much time has passed since you finally made it to the unfamiliar reefs, as you collapsed on the sand, breathless and disoriented. You could only hope that you reached the correct destination: the Awa’atlu village. The distant sounds of horns announced your arrival, and strangers started to surround you in a circle. When the Olo’eyktan approached you, you managed to summon the rest of your strength to stand up and greet him.

You’re weak, and judging by his face, you’re sure that the explanation you give him is too vague. You hope that despite your mumbling, he understands that you were asking for refuge to escape from the sky demons. As the villagers around you start whispering, the only thing that comes to your mind clearly is “Jake Sully.” They killed your people, set your village on fire, shot your ilus... All because of Jake Sully.

“Jake Sully,” you repeat in a low whisper, your eyelids suddenly feeling heavy.

“Where is your ilu, child? Did you swim here by yourself?” Olo'eyktan asks, examining you with a hint of worry.

You wince at the mention of your ilu, the painful memory of its death still too fresh. It seemed unfair that you weren’t fast enough to save both of you. You had underestimated the demons, thinking you were too far away when a bullet suddenly pierced through your companion, acute pain reaching you simultaneously through the bond. You ilu did its best to swim through, bringing you to safety before you felt its body sink underneath you with a final shriek. Yet you couldn’t even mourn.

You were still in the open water, alone, unsure of where to head. You screamed as you pulled yourself together and started to swim, pushing through exhaustion and soreness in your muscles. You couldn’t afford to stop until you reached the unfamiliar land. You owed your sister to survive this.

“They killed my ilu,” a sob escapes your throat, your knees suddenly going weak.

“Easy there,” you hear a low voice beside you, as a pair of warm hands snake around your waist, supporting you to stand on your feet. You glance down at the hands, and realize that they are different. Blue-skinned.

“She needs to rest. She must have been swimming for hours,” Tsahik steps out, “What clan do you belong to, child?”

“Ta'unui.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Your first night in Awa’atlu, you’re too weak to get out of bed. The Tsahik had placed you in a small empty marui, close to hers, so she could easily check on you. In moments of consciousness, you catch glimpses of people and snippets of conversations. When they ask you questions about your arrival, you can only answer by nodding and shaking your head.

Ronal, Tsahik of the Metkayina clan, says that you could have died out in the open water. She thinks it’s a miracle, and whispers prayers to Eywa while massaging your muscles with various balms. You can’t protest really, even when the balms start stinging and making your muscles clench and burn.

Tsireya, the daughter of the Tsahik, always remains by her mother's side, carefully observing her actions, and joining her in prayer. You guess that she is the tsakarem. Watching Tsireya reminds you of the time when your sister was a tsakarem, following your grandmother around to learn from her.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

On the second day, you feel better. You gradually regain consciousness and start to move your limbs. Despite the pain and the slowness of your movements, you feel the life return back to your body. Tsireya stays with you even after her mother leaves.

“Are you feeling better, Y/N?” Tsireya perks up at your movement.

“Yes,” you’re surprised by the hoarseness in your voice.

“Don’t worry, your voice will be back to normal soon,” Tsireya finds your reaction amusing.

You’re not a big talker but Tsireya is a pleasant company. You don’t feel pressured to react or reply, as she talks to you about her village and her clan. You can see how hard she tries to keep you distracted from the pain.

“You'll be just fine here. There is even a family of forest Na’vi who joined our clan a while ago,” she says, “You can imagine how difficult it was for them to learn everything from scratch! Oh, but they were so determined!”

Your ears involuntarily perk up, as you listen to Tsireya’s story. It’s really the first thing she tells you that intrigues you. Encouraged by your interest, Tsireya continues.

“You will recognize them right away. They are blue,” she giggles, covering her mouth, “But they have been accepted and are a part of the Metkayina now. I am very happy they’re here.”

A faint memory of blue-skinned hands supporting you reappears.

“When I arrived… Was it a forester who caught me?” you ask.

“That’s right! Neteyam,” Tsireya nods, “He is the oldest son. You might have hurt yourself if he didn’t catch you in time.”

“Neteyam” you repeat to yourself.

Tsireya tells you just a little more about the foresters, until her brother Ao’nung fetches her back home.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

On your third morning of isolation, Tsireya visits you with a girl, who seems to be around her age. It’s not hard to guess that she is a forest Na’vi, her blue skin and yellow eyes giving it away immediately. But there’s something else you notice about her: she has an extra finger on each of her hands. You think back on the demons that had five fingers, and feel a shiver run down your spine. When she notices you staring at her, she hides her hands behind her back.

“This is Kiri, Kiri this is Y/N,” Tsireya introduces you with a smile, “Kiri is from the forest. Remember I told you about the family?”

Kiri doesn’t seem to be as talkative as Tsireya, perhaps even a bit shy. You greet each other but she keeps her distance, clearly still uncomfortable around you. Despite her similarity with the sky demons, you feel like you can trust her. Kiri is strangely beautiful, not like your sister or Tsireya, but there’s something about her that fascinates you. You’ve never really seen a forester up close before, so…

“Is your voice back?” Tsireya grabs your attention, kneeling next to you.

“I think so,” you breathe out, “It’s getting there.”

“Oh, it has gotten much better! I can’t wait to hear it, once you’re fully well. I bet you have a great singing voice,” she beams, and Kiri lets out a chuckle. You can’t help but smile at that.

It takes some time for Kiri to warm up to you. With the Tsahik’s approval, Tsireya took over today’s checkup on you. She knows the order of the balms by heart and works in confidence, while Kiri watches. From time to time, Kiri gives her a recommendation, and Tsireya gladly engages.

“Were you a tsakarem as well?” you ask Kiri.

“I used to be. My grandmother is the Tsahik of Omatikaya,” Kiri sighs with slight disappointment.

“And since you moved here, you can’t do that anymore?” you continue logically. She nods.

“My grandmother had to find somebody else to replace me, right before we left.”

You notice how Tsireya throws a sad look at her but Kiri only reacts with a forced smile. She doesn’t like to be pitied.

“Actually, Kiri’s doing better than all of us,” Tsireya suddenly adds with a proud smile, “Kiri has a special connection with the Great Mother.”

“It’s not a big deal, really,” Kiri protests but Tsireya shakes her head, disagreeing.

“When we were out swimming the other day, we suddenly lost Kiri. We were looking for her for hours and found her asleep at the very bottom. Even the most skilled Metkayina swimmers can’t stay in the water with no air for so long!” Tsireya articulates with her hands to convince you, “And she was completely fine. Oh! And Kiri can also make fish follow her, it’s so funny!”

Tsireya giggles recalling the memory, and for the first time, Kiri joins her.

“You have to show me, I’ve never seen anything like that,” you smile.

“We’ll go together this evening. I know you’ll be fully recovered by then,” Tsireya excitedly claps her hands. Kiri only nods.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Tsireya was right. By the evening, you have confirmation from Ronal, and you’re free to explore the village with her daughter as your guide. You find that while Awa’atlu is not similar to your village, it’s also not too different. But the water around the island seems calmer than what you are used to. It makes you slightly anxious.

Tsireya tries very hard to make you feel at home. She introduces you to everyone on your way, including her brother’s friends. Among them, you notice another forester who doesn’t stare at you like the locals do. Even when you catch his gaze, he doesn't seem overly curious. Just like Kiri, keeping his distance.

That’s Lo’ak, Tsireya reminds you, the third forest-child. It takes a fool not to catch on the chemistry between her and Lo’ak. The way she talks to him almost makes your teeth hurt, while he gets shy every time he is caught staring at her. But they seem to pretend to be just friends in a social setting.

Now joined by Ao’nung, his friends and Kiri, you all go swimming together. Tsireya and Kiri walk protectively next to you, with the boys ahead.

“Let’s see if you can swim faster than Lo’ak,” Ao'nung teases you, his friends laughing. Lo’ak playfully hits him in the arm.

“She’s from a water clan, you skxawng,” Kiri comes to your defense, and you have to suppress a smile.

“I didn’t mean to anger you, oh daughter of Eywa,” Ao'nung continues to tease, pretending to kneel in front of Kiri, “Please have mercy on me!”

Kiri rolls her eyes, and shoves him, as she walks ahead. You catch Ao'nung watching after her, and exchange a knowing smile with Tsireya.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Swimming helps you regain strength in your body and in your mind. Just the way you noticed, the water here was calmer than back home, relaxing the soreness out of your muscles. This was going to be your new home. Maybe it wouldn’t be as bad.

Surprisingly, the boys’ teasing doesn’t bother you. While Kiri jumps to your defense ever so often, you think it was more of a distraction than anything else to you. As the sun starts setting, you float on your back, watching the sky, the painful memories slipping away. Your moment of peace is interrupted by shouting coming from the shore. Your ears perk up at the sound of your name, and with a hope that it might be someone from your village, coming back for you, you quickly turn to look. But it’s not. Instead, you see a tall blue-skinned Na’vi, waving you over.

“Y/N! Tonowari wants to see you!” he shouts again.

“It’s Neteyam, come on,” Tsireya passes by you, swimming to the shoreline. You follow her.

Once closer, you can see Neteyam more clearly. He greets both of you with a warm smile, his intricately braided hair swaying around, as he moves.

“Father wants to see Y/N?” Tsireya asks, as she gathers her long hair to squeeze out the water.

“I saw him on my way over here,” he says, his soft gaze lingering on you, “He wanted me to get the ‘new girl’ to talk to him.”

Unlike his brother, Neteyam seems to be more intrigued by your presence, his gaze sweeping over your features, one by one, as if trying to memorize them. While it’s not as intrusive as others’ staring, you find his attention to be way too forward. You protectively cross your arms on your chest.

“I’m Neteyam, by the way,” he offers you a formal greeting, that you’re forced to reciprocate.

“Y/N.”

“I guessed so,” he chuckles, like it’s the most obvious thing you could have said, “Everyone knows about you.”

Tsireya interrupts your exchange by gently pulling you by your wrist.

“Come, Y/N, I’ll walk you to our home,” she smiles, then throws a look over her shoulder, “By the way, Lo’ak is currently getting talked to into sneaking out at night to swim with Payakan.”

You see Neteyam’s face change, as his warm smile gives way to anger, and he turns on his heel, heading towards the water.

“Lo’ak!” you hear him shout before diving in. Tsireya giggles beside you.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When you first sit down in front of Tonowari, you can’t help but feel dwarfed by his intimidating presence. So you’re grateful when Tsireya asks if she can stay in the room with you. Tonowari’s gaze softens, unable to deny his daughter, and Tsireya gives you a reassuring smile before blending into the shadows.

You’re not surprised that he wanted to talk to you. Sure, he was aware of what had happened from your first interaction, and from Ronal, who gathered more information while you were under her care, but he wanted to clarify every detail. You take a deep breath and begin to recount everything.

Tonowari rarely interrupts you to ask questions but for the most part he simply listens with unwavering attention. You see his expression change from understanding to concerned, the more he hears.

“Was there any warning to their attack?” he frowns.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, trying to get rid of the painful memories, “My theory is… whoever they were looking for, our village was the first one to suffer. We heard nothing from the neighboring clans, so I’m guessing it’s only because we are on the very eastern coast.”

“You think they’re moving from east to west?” he asks. You nod.

“It’s why I came here, really. I think your village is quite far from ours.”

Tonowari hums, deep in thought. You sit in silence for a while, another reason nagging at you. You’re not sure if you need to tell him this but you do.

“And because I used to hear about your village. My sister and I lost my mother when we were kids but we knew that she wasn’t a local back home,” you hesitate before continuing, “My sister thinks she would have relatives from here.”

“It’s not impossible,” Tonowari nods his head, “We heard many stories of Na’vi from different clans mating and moving across the islands. We might even find someone from your mother’s family.”

You hear Tsireya’s soft gasp, clearly the thought of it appearing more intriguing to her than to you. You nod to express gratitude but you’re not really sure you want to meet anyone. It’s always been just you and your sister, no one can replace her.

“And you said they were looking for him, huh?”

“Jake Sully? Yes, he’s the reason they attacked us,” you answer, feeling your face flush with anger, “They had weapons, and were shooting anyone who resisted or tried to run. Then they started to burn our homes, repeating his name over and over again. There was also a human kid with them who translated.”

Tonowari’s face falls so suddenly, you would have thought that he has been hiding Jake Sully himself this whole time. You hope that wherever that man is, the sky demons find him before they can reach you. Tears begin to well up in your eyes. Tonowari notices and leans in.

“Don’t worry, child. We do not want war, but if they come here, we will be protecting our land and our Na’vi. Including you,” he hesitates before patting your head, “You’re one of us now.”

You lean into his touch, allowing him to slightly mess up your hair.

“For now, let’s keep this to ourselves, so that there is no panic. I have to think.”

You take that as a signal to stand up, and quickly wipe your eyes before Tsireya can see.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

That night you can’t seem to fall asleep. It feels lonely in your marui, and you start considering asking to be moved to a more crowded location. You turn on your mat a few times before catching a movement of two shadows on the other side of the wall. You sit up alerted, looking out. Eventually voices catch your ear.

“Lo’ak, if you don’t come back right now, I will wake up dad,” somebody whispers.

“He doesn’t care anyway, he’ll only get mad at his favorite,” you hear Lo’ak, and see one of the two shadows disappear.

The other shadow stands still, still in front of your wall. You don’t have to guess that it’s probably his brother Neteyam, whom you met earlier.

“Psst,” you hear his voice, his shadow moving.

And again. He moves closer to the entrance of your marui, as you stare in silence. What does he want?

“Y/N? Are you asleep?” you hear his very apparent accent.

“What?”

Your glance falls to his figure now leaning against the entrance to your room. He gives you a sheepish smile.

“What do you want?” you squint to make out his features. His eyes and freckles glow in the dark and you notice his ears perk up, as if he’s excited.

“It’s Neteyam,” he gestures to himself.

“I know,” you’re annoyed. You know who he is, does he think you can’t see him?

“Oh, right. I just didn’t want to scare you, so I…”

“Starting with ‘psst” certainly didn’t help,” you bite, “Shouldn’t you be checking on your brother anyway?”

“Technically, I can’t do anything except wait. Then, if it gets suspiciously long, I follow him,” he grins like it’s the funniest thing.

You stare at him quietly, wondering what he's doing in your room, in the middle of the night. Neteyam shifts uncomfortably under your gaze.

“Uh, right. Sorry if we woke you up,” he scratches his head, “I was going to check on you anyway, just didn’t mean to at this hour.”

“Why would you check on me?” you frown.

“I thought you might like someone to talk to you, about moving and stuff.”

“I can talk about it to Tsireya, I’m fine.”

“I know, she’s nice,” Neteyam crouches down, to bring himself on your eye level. He looks embarrassed, “But she thought it would be a good idea for me to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re both new here. You see, my family and I moved here a few months ago -”

“I know,” you interrupt him.

“And I get what you’re going through.”

This frustrates you. According to Tsireya, Neteyam is the son of the sixth Toruk Makto. She didn’t tell you much but they left their clan on their own, they wanted a fresh start. As far as you can tell, you and him had nothing in common. You were forced out of your home and had to give up on your life without a choice. How can he get what you’re going through? He has a family. You have no one.

“Just because we’re both outlanders doesn’t mean that you have to pretend to relate to me, Neteyam. We’re not the same,” it comes out more aggressive than you intended. You notice his ears lower, along with his gaze, “I don’t need a forest boy teaching me the way of water. You’re not my savior.”

Neteyam’s face falls, like you hit a cord with your words. But he didn’t mean to offend you, he only meant good. From the moment he saw you, he thought he recognized something familiar in your expression: longing for home. So when Tsireya suggested one of the foresters befriending you, he thought that you would easily get along. Right now, though, this seemed like a horrible idea.

“Not trying to be a savior, just a friend,” he mumbles, standing up, “Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You scoff, as Neteyam walks out without a glance back.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The morning is disturbed by the loud sounds of horns, announcing something important. You quickly walk out of your marui to find groups of Na’vi heading towards the center of the village. Tsireya told you that it’s where her father calls for meetings. When you spot Kiri, moving along, you join her. She’s holding hands with a kid.

“Hey, Y/N, this is Tuktirey,” Kiri gestures.

“Tuk,” the kid corrects with a smile and greets you.

“Nice to meet you,Tuk,” you smile back. Judging by her skin, you guess that Tuk belongs to the family of foresters.

“So, should I be worried?” you ask Kiri, motioning to the Na’vi in front of you. It’s really a little crowded for your liking.

“Not sure,” she admits, “These announcements confuse me, I can’t tell when it’s good or bad thing. Often it’s nothing bad though, don’t worry.”

Despite Kiri’s reassurance, you approach the center with a feeling of worry. The feeling in your gut is confirmed as soon as you catch a glimpse of Tsireya with a troubled look on her face. You notice her holding someone’s hand. Blue, five fingers. You can’t see him but you’re sure it’s Lo’ak. When she meets your eye, you mouth to her.

“Is it bad?”

She shakes her head in disappointment. It’s very bad, you think.

When Tonowari clears his throat and steps into the center, everyone falls silent. He keeps it brief, retelling about the attack of the demons on your village. Tonowari suspects that it’s only a matter of time before the sky demons attack again, so everyone must be prepared. It is now prohibited to be alone in unsafe areas, going out in the open water, or too deep into the trees.

You feel knots forming in your stomach, when panicked questions pour on him.

“The Metkayina needs to be prepared for any outcome, even war,” Tonowari raises his voice again, “Start proofing armors, repair your weapons. Always be on the lookout.”

“This is crazy,” Kiri whispers to you, “I can’t believe that we escaped here to live in fear again.”

It confuses you. You knew that her family moved to live with Metkayina but Tsireya didn’t tell you why. It is bizarre now that you remember that Kiri’s father is Toruk Makto. Why would he leave his home? You make a mental note to question her about it once you’re alone.

“Kiri, are we going to leave again?” Tuk tugs at her sister with a sniff.

“Mawey, Tuk,” a gentle voice replies instead, as a hand slips around Tuk, caressing her cheeks, “Tuk, Tuk, Tuk.”

Your eyes follow. It’s a tall beautiful woman with bright yellow eyes. You can’t shake off the feeling of how familiar she looks.

“My mom,” Kiri says to you, “Neytiri.”

Right. She looks very similar to Neteyam. Neytiri’s eyes flicker to you, and she graces you with a smile. You bow to greet her.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Once dismissed, you and Kiri fall into the same pace. You don’t talk but you instinctively follow her to the beach, where a group was seated, working on their weapons. Tsireya, Lo’ak, Neteyam, Ao'nung, and Ao'nung’s friend Roxto. You and Kiri sit with them, closing the circle. Sensing that the silence is caused by the same reason you’re feeling anxious, you follow their example and take out your knife. You didn’t have a polishing rock like the others, so instead you focus on reattaching the loosened up string to the handle. You feel Neteyam’s watching you but once you catch him, he looks away.

Kiri meddles with her belt, deep in her thoughts, and you can tell she’s just as anxious as you are.

“Okay, I’m going to say what I think,” Kiri breaks the silence, grabbing everyone’s attention, “This is not good, right? There’s something else they’re not telling us.”

Tsireya’s eyes snap to you but both of you remain quiet.

“No shit, Kiri,” Lo’ak mocks her.

“Shut up, skxawng,” she reaches forward to slap him.

“Hey, you two,” Neteyam gently pushes Kiri away from his brother.

You notice how the younger siblings shoot him an annoyed look but calm down anyway. Last night, Neteyam didn’t seem to hold much power over Lo’ak but right now it appeared that he had some sort of authority. It’s like the possibility of danger made the dynamic between them shift.

“Nothing’s going to happen, they’re probably lying so that the youngsters stop sneaking out to the forest at night,” Roxto breaks the silence with a snort, then looks at you for support, “Come on, if it was that serious we would be probably doing much more right now.”

There’s some truth to his words, you think. Tonowari did not even come close to explaining how dangerous it could get. Taking measures, like staying within the perimeters of the islans, is hardly something that would keep you safe. Deep in your thought, you continue tightening the string. Neteyam shoots you another glance, and when you look back up, he pushes his polishing stone towards you. You nod at him in appreciation, as you take the tool.

“It’s because of your conversation yesterday with my father, right?” Ao'nung suddenly asks, turning to you. Tsireya tsks at her brother but you sense it is too late.

“Y/N? What do you know?” Kiri adds, concerned.

You sigh, feeling their eyes on you, examining your every small movement. You can almost hear Tsireya’s quiet gasp, as you open your mouth to answer.

“Look, I’m not supposed to tell you this, so keep it to yourself… It’s bad. The demons had many powerful weapons, it took them minutes to burn down my whole village. I don’t know how strong the defense can even be to keep them away. It’s going to be an unfair fight.”

“What do they want? The islands?” Ao'nung pushes for more information.

“They’re looking for a man, who they think is hiding in a water clan,” you answer, noticing how everyone’s ears perk up.

“Do you know who he is?” Lo’ak asks.

“Lo’ak, don’t -” Tsireya tries to interrupt him.

“His name is Jake Sully,” your voice turns with anger, “I’m not sure what he did to them but they were set on killing him. And killing anyone who’s protecting him.”

Dead silence hangs over you, and you suspect that there’s something they’re not telling you. The forest-siblings hang their heads, and you notice Tsireya squeezing Lo’ak’s hand.

“Wait, so they’re looking for your dad,” Roxto turns to Kiri, “They’re looking for you.”

“Your dad?” you turn to Kiri, “Is Jake Sully your dad?”

Kiri nods, almost ashamed. You feel your throat hurt, as realization washes over you. You escaped exactly where Jake Sully was. It was his kids now sitting in front of you, in their new home, enjoying their care-free life, while your village was burned down to the ground.

“It’s your dad!” you feel anger escalating. You stand up, “I’ve lost everything because of him! The demons thought we were hiding him but he was here all this time!”

“Y/N, it’s the demons’ fault,” Tsireya stands up too, trying to calm you down, “He only wanted to keep his family safe, he doesn’t want war.”

“We didn’t want war either, but here we are,” you throw your hands in the air, feeling your body shake out of resentment.

“My father has done nothing wrong,” Neteyam stands up as well, his voice low.

“Your father is wrong for hiding here, while the other clans are at risk of being wiped out!” you’re so frustrated, you wish this was a joke they were playing on you.

But why isn’t anyone agreeing with you? You look at their faces for support but no one dares to speak. Lo’ak keeps his head hanging, and Kiri storms off without a word. A chuckle of disbelief escapes from your lips.

“I guess the great Toruk Makto isn’t that great after all,” you throw bitterly. Neteyam clenches his jaw.

“Y/N, don’t say that. He just wants peace,” Tsireya starts again.

“We all want peace!” you protest.

“You think it’s so easy, huh? You think he’s hiding?” Neteyam raises his voice at you, “He’s not to blame for their vengeance!”

You hiss at him, more angered. How dare he protect the man who caused all of the chaos? How can they ignore the fact that soon enough they will be losing their homes just like you did?

“It is easy!” you hiss again, “Let him go out there and face them alone, before they burn down this village too!”

“That’s unfair, I’m not losing my dad,” he growls.

“I lost my home!”

You’re not sure how things escalate this quickly but one second you’re at a distance growling at each other, and in another instance you lunge at him, catching him off guard. Neteyam falls on his back, as you hold him down with your legs but he’s quick enough to catch your arms before you can even touch him. You hear concerned voices in the background but your only focus is punching him.

The two of you snarl, and as you struggle to free your arms from his grip, he flips you over. Your back hits the ground with a sharp pain but it gives you just enough room to kick him in the gut. Neteyam winces in pain, yet quickly regains his composure by pinning you down, this time paying special attention to having your knees locked together.

“Skxawng,” you let out, frustrated.

He doesn’t hit you back but he does just enough to stop you from moving, his skin feeling hot against yours.

“Dude, dude,” Lo’ak runs up to him, putting his arms over his shoulders, “Get off her.”

“Not unless she calms down,” Neteyam hisses, completely unaware of the group of adults headed towards the two of you. You try to move but he pins you down again.

You catch a glimpse of Roxto and Ao'nung chuckling at the fight, while Tsireya covers her mouth in concern. Then, you spot Neytiri.

“Neteyam!” she shouts. Neteyam pauses at the sound of her voice, ears perking up.

“Shit,” Lo’ak whispers, backing away, “Neteyam, get off.”

“That’s right, get off me, you skxawng,” you say, humiliated by the position he put you in.

Defeated and angry, Neteyam shoots you a quick look, before finally releasing you from his grip. You huff out of frustration, as you sit up, trying to recover your breath. By the time Neytiri approaches the scene, Neteyam’s already standing with his head hanging low. Lo’ak stands a little behind, as if to avoid the confusion of who’s at fault.

Neytiri’s eyes run you up and down, then examine her sons, as if trying to piece together what happened. She remains quiet, before kneeling down in front of you, and taking your hand in hers. You’re all surprised by her gentle demeanor.

“Are you hurt?” she asks you, lifting your arm to examine it. Then moves to get a look at your back.

“I’m good,” you shake your head, freeing yourself from her grasp.

“Neteyam,” Neytiri stands up, now turning to her son, anger evident in her voice, “Apologize. Now.”

“Mom, they were just joking,” Lo’ak tries to tone down the situation but she shuts him up by raising her hand.

Without a second of hesitation, Neteyam nods and meets your eyes, before saying loudly for everyone to hear.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“You didn’t hurt me,” you hiss, annoyed.

“Mother, can we go now?” Lo’ak asks.

Neytiri nods, and three of them walk away. Soon enough, you can hear her scolding her oldest son. Tsireya runs up to you, helping you up to your feet.

“Y/N, are you hurt? You just recovered!” she sounds genuinely upset.

“I’m not hurt, he didn’t do anything.”

“I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you about that. I didn’t know,” she lowers her eyes to the ground, “Not until the talk you had with my father.”

“I know, I don’t blame you,” you sigh, “But why would you send him to talk to me?”

“I thought he could help,” she explains, hoping you’d understand, “Lo’ak is not talkative, and Kiri’s hasn’t been taking the change very well. Neteyam’s the only one who likes it here. So I thought he’d be the best to talk to.”

You nod. She makes a good point. But his whole attitude, the pretentious novelty, it pisses you off. Acting tough and proper when his mother is around, but in reality, selfish. He doesn’t care that you’ve lost everything because of his father. He has a new home he likes. And siblings, and parents... You feel jealous.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

You are a good hunter. You have a good aim, and you’re fast. You used to think that you would be a good asset in danger but the way you froze, when you were attacked by the demons, makes you hesitant. What if that happens again? What if you come face-to-face with them and freeze?

The air outside of your room is refreshingly cold. You watch the dark sky hang over the sleepy Awa’atlu. In an attempt to clear your head, you start wandering around the village, eventually stopping at the terrace blending into the beach. Your ears perk up at faint voices, and as your eyes follow, you find two Na’vi by the water, oblivious to your presence. It looks like they are pretending to wrestle each other, letting out occasional laughs. You recall your earlier not-so-pretend fight with Neteyam and sigh out of frustration, taking a seat on the grass.

As one throws the other one to the ground, you think you recognize Neteyam. He laughs, swaying his hair, then gives a hand to help out his companion to his feet. The other Na’vi is taller than him, with broader shoulder, longer hair. Your breath catches in your throat, as you guess who that might be.

“Yeah, that’s him,” you hear a confirmation, and almost jump up.

Lo’ak is standing next to you, his gaze forward.

“Jake Sully?”

“My dad,” he confirms again.

You turn your attention back to the two Na’vi wrestling, and you watch them for a moment. Eventually, Lo’ak sits down next to you.

“Neteyam’s his favorite,” he says, “He’s the perfect son. The mighty warrior.”

“The mighty warrior?” you repeat.

“He likes to call himself that,” Lo’ak explains, “To piss me off.”

“Does it work?”

“Yeah,” he chuckles, “It pisses me off.”

“Why aren’t you pissed off at me?” you turn to face to him.

“Why aren’t you?” he asks in return, “You’re angry at Neteyam but not at me.”

You pause. You’re not really sure why Lo’ak joining you didn’t frustrate you, the way Neteyam’s presence would. Maybe it’s because Lo’ak seemed guilty earlier. He didn’t stand up for his dad, so there must be something both of you agree on.

“He pisses me off too,” you answer, turning your gaze back to Neteyam in the distance, “I don’t like when people pretend to care. Because once something threatens their peace, they really show how they don’t give a crap about you.”

“Neteyam doesn’t pretend about caring,” Lo’ak disagrees, “Sure, he pretends all the time but not when it comes to caring. He cares.”

“Not about me anyway,” you scoff.

Lo’ak falls silent. You got him there, you had a point. Thoughts race through your mind, as you try to comprehend what to make of this. Perhaps you judged too quickly, not knowing the whole story. What if it was your sister? Would you be willing to put at risk the peace of your village to protect her? No, that would never happen. She would face the enemy herself, not even letting you have a say in the matter.

“My father is not a bad guy,” Lo’ak interrupts your thoughts, “I’m not saying that he does everything right but… we’re all he got.”

You don’t react. You don’t really want to hear him justify his dad, make him seem vulnerable.

“He turned down his whole life for my mom. Left everything he believed in behind because he wanted to be with her,” Lo’ak continues, “Even became one of us… He is one of us.”

“Is that why…” you instinctively glance at his fingers, and Lo’ak shifts, “Is it true? Tsireya said that Eywa blessed him.”

He nods. You let out a tired sigh. It’s exhausting to think about it. His father was blessed by Eywa, he is the Toruk Makto. Who are you to disagree with the Great Mother?

“I don’t know anymore,” you admit defeated, “I just don’t think it’s fair… that others get punished. More harm can be avoided.”

“I know,” Lo’ak agrees with you, “But the demons are stronger, they never give up. We woke up to war every day back home.”

You listen to him with curiosity. You don’t know much about their past life but you wonder if the war really was a constant in the forest.

“It’s why we moved, you know?” his voice hitches, “My father knew that they were never going to let us live peacefully, so we tried hiding here instead.”

You hum. You’re not sure if it’s the tiredness creeping up on you, or genuine empathy, but you feel sorry for Lo’ak. He seems to feel at fault for the consequences of his father’s choices. It’s almost like he speaks more to himself than to you. Justifies things to ease his heart.

“Seems like they’re done,” Lo’ak gets up, “I’m gonna go before dad catches me sneaking out.”

You force a small smile, as you watch Jake and Neteyam dust the sand off their bodies. It takes you a while to move from your spot, but not quickly enough, as Neteyam spots you from a distance. He keeps his eyes on you, and you can almost feel your blood boil.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

For the next few days, things change rapidly. You notice that everyone is busy with their chores, rushing, and preparing, the feeling of danger weighing down on them. Tonowari orders for the hunters and skilled fighters to divide into pairs, assigning them to guard the island every night. Divers work on protective armors for their ilus. There is a big shift in the air.

Speaking about these measures to Tsireya gives you an unsettling feeling. You don’t talk about the Sully’s to her, even though they’re constantly on your mind. You just can’t believe that Tonowari agrees to protect them.

Tsireya’s still hesitant to bring them up when you question her about her father’s plans, even though you’re well aware that Jake Sully actively participates in the matters of protection. She doesn’t know that it’s been keeping you up every night. To trust this man to protect you, when he is the reason for the attacks. His name alone forces painful visions of your sister and her mate, crouched down on the sand, with a weapon pointed at them.

“Have you talked to Kiri, since the…?” Tsireya starts hesitantly. You haven’t. It upsets you because in a short time, you had begun to see Kiri as a friend.

“Not really,” you hang your head, “I didn’t want to attack her, it’s just…”

“I’m sure she knows,” Tsireya nods, “She protects her father but she feels guilty too. When she heard about your fight with Neteyam, she kind of scolded him.”

Tsireya bites down on her lip, hiding a small smile. You can’t really help a smile stretching your lips too. You would have loved to see Neteyam getting scolded. Just the thought of it makes you feel a little better.

“I feel bad, it’s not her fault,” you admit.

“Maybe you two can talk it out?” Tsireya asks hopefully.

“Maybe.”

“I’ll let her know.”

Unlike the other siblings, you’ve seen plenty of Lo’ak in the past few days. Mostly because you’re only hanging out with Tsireya, and, well, Lo’ak wants to be around her. It’s silly excuses, when they sneak away, leaving you alone. She even got in trouble for wandering with him around the guarded areas.

Lo’ak doesn’t make you feel awkward. The two of you don’t really talk but neither of you feels pressured to. You like to think that you and him reached some sort of understanding the other night. Partially, you feel bad for him for having Jake Sully for his father, and Neteyam, as his older brother. As a younger sister to Tsahik, you can relate to the pressure of always reaching for, yet never getting it all.

But when it comes to seeing Neteyam in the village... The angry looks that you exchange with him when passing each other just make your whole body ache. You barely hold yourself back from hissing at him. It’s bad. You already had not one, but two people you hated.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

That evening, when you return to your marui, you’re surprised to find Kiri waiting for you. She stands up, as you approach, and the two of you look at each other for a moment before you pull her into a hug.

“I didn’t mean to yell at you, the other day,” you admit, pulling away from her, “It’s not your fault.”

“I get it,” she sighs, “If I were you, I’d be mad. I’m kind of mad now.”

While you dreaded this conversation, it goes quite smoothly with Kiri. You don’t feel judgment on her side for disagreeing with her father. You think it’s unfair that the only person who makes you feel less of an outsider has to be the daughter of Jake Sully.

“I feel angry because I can’t get used to the thought of just sitting here and waiting?” you finish on a higher note, hoping that she can relate, “Because while we’re here, the demons are killing innocent Na’vi. Village by village. It’s terrifying. I just wish I could do something to protect them.”

Kiri nods and stares off into the distance, deep in her thoughts. You can feel the guilt she beares on her shoulders but she fights it to protect her family. Suddenly, she turns her head, yellow eyes glistening, like she has the brightest solution.

“Y/N, how well do you know the islands?” she asks.

“Um, there are about hundreds of them but I know roughly where the settlements."

“So if we wanted to warn them about the intruders, do you think you would be able to map them out and guide us there?”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Now that you think about it, you feel like a fool for not figuring it out earlier. Why didn’t anyone?

Sure, news would travel between neighboring villages but you were forgetting that the Awa’atlu was on the very far ends of the islands. And, by the time the others were warned about the possible attacks, there would be nothing left.

When you and Kiri propose the idea of swimming to the islands, and first-hand warning their Olo’eyktans, Tonowari hesitates. Not many in his clan are familiar with the other settlements, especially within the Eastern reefs, and underestimating the time frames could cost him lives.

“We don’t have to warn everyone, just as many as we can,” you plead, “And what if we the close-located clans fight back in unions. Surely, they would respect your advice as the Olo'eyktan.”

“It worked when Toruk Makto did it,” Tonowari hums in agreement, “It would be difficult to unionize all of the islands but there is a better chance of surviving for smaller unions.”

“They at least deserve to know what’s coming, please,” you push further, and eventually gain an approving nod from him.

Quickly, small groups of the best Metkayina swimmers are formed to be assigned for the realization of the plan. While most of them are familiar with the neighboring islands, you’re the one mapping out the Eastern Sea settlements for them. And although Tonowari immediately turns down your offer of joining them, you feel slightly better for at least contributing.

You go over your roughly drawn map on the sand one more time with the final group of three Metkayina swimmers, your goal to ensure that they are aware of the safest paths to approach the villages. The group is gathered around you, listening carefully, and as you talk, you feel someone watching you from afar. It’s Neteyam. You take a moment to refocus before finding the track of your words again.

“Thank you, Y/N, we got it from here,” Sokxot, one of the swimmer says, when you finish up.

You stay to watch as they swim away on their ilus, in your mind, praying to Eywa to guide them safely to their destination. When you think you’re left alone, you’re surprised to find Neteyam here. You frown at him. What does he want? Intimidate you with his staring? You’re taken aback when he decides to approach you.

“Y/N,” his greets you with a calm voice, then points to the map you drew, “This was your idea?”

“Kiri’s,” you correct him.

“Still, you helped a lot,” Neteyam stares at the map, as if trying to memorize it. You roll your eyes at him.

“Guess I don’t like sitting and waiting for danger,”

“I really hope this makes a difference,” he says, sounding almost sincere.

You watch after him as he walks away, and let out a sigh. The two of you were too grown to act like kids.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

On the third day since their departure, two groups of Metkayina swimmers return with updates. Tonowari immediately calls for a meeting, and it's revealed that a significant number of villages have already been warned of the impending danger. The warned clans also started sending out their own swimmers, forming a whole network between the hundreds of villages.

But more importantly, you had the first case of a union between three smaller clans on the Eastern islands that managed to prepare just in time for the attack. Taken aback by the preparedness of Na’vi, the sky demons suffered greatly in numbers. Of course, the clans had casualties, but they managed to force the enemy to back away, and keep their homes safe.

It's the first good news that the Metkayina have heard in weeks, and you can see the happiness on their faces. You feel a sense of satisfaction with what you've achieved, and even Tonowari can't help but sneak a smile as he urges everyone to remain careful and calm.

To celebrate your little victory, Tsireya invites you to swim with her and the rest of her friends somewhere special. You didn’t mind that the Sully’s, especially Neteyam, were joining. You thought you would ignore him and allow yourself to enjoy being a little carefree.

Tsireya takes you to a sacred place - the Cove of Ancestors, where you could express your gratitude to Eywa by the Spirit Tree. Mesmerized by the beauty of it all, you can’t stop looking around. And judging by the reaction of the Sully kids, it’s probably their first time here too. Tsireya excitedly watches your faces, when showing you the Spirit Tree from afar. Underneath the surface of water, its roots glow with unique undertones, breathing in and out.

“Tsireya, this is incredible,” you awe, as she gives you a giddy smile.

“Come,” she waves you over, disappearing under the water.

With Tsireya, Kiri, Lo’ak, and Ao’nung disappear too. Distracted by the sight around you, you fall a little behind, and find yourself not too far from Neteyam. He is not a bad swimmer but he is definitely slow compared to you.

You’re not really thinking about it, when you stay back to watch him. It’s almost entertaining how greedily his eyes take in the surroundings, seeming almost golden in this light. A smile tugs at your lips.

Your skin shivers, as a cool wind wraps around your body. Then you notice it. A single woodsprite appears in the air, flying around you and grazing your skin. You feel blessed to witness a sign of the Great Mother, but as you reach out to gently touch it, it moves away. Your smile fades, when the seed starts floating around Neteyam’s head. Is Eywa trying to tell you something? Maybe you were being too harsh with him.

With another blow of the wind, the woodsprite disappears, leaving Neteyam completely oblivious to what just happened. When he turns around and meets your gaze, your throat tightens. His expression is unreadable. What is he thinking?

“I should probably catch up with the rest,” you clear your throat.

Neteyam only nods, and as you swim past him, it almost seems like you catch a hint of disappointment on his face. You can’t be distracted by the sign right now.

When you reach the Tree and submerge, you find Tsireya, Lo’ak, and Ao'nung already linking their queues to the roots. Trying not to disturb them, you quietly swim to the opposite side, bringing out your queue. From the corner of your eye, you spot Neteyam but you decide to ignore him.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Words cannot describe how healed you feel, when you open your eyes. As if your inner and outer worlds have finally merged again, making you whole. With a smile, you swim up to the surface to reunite with the rest of the group, ready to share your happiness, when you notice troubled expressions on their faces.

“Did anyone see Kiri before we came here?” Lo’ak asks, and everyone shakes their heads, “Shit, Neteyam.”

“She said she’d swim a bit more before joining us by the Tree,” Tsireya replies.

“Alright, everyone, let’s divide and start looking for her,” Neteyam orders, calling out to his ilu.

It doesn’t take much convincing, as quickly, one by one, all of you get on your ilus and disperse.

Tsireya’s story about Kiri falling asleep in the water resurfaces in your mind. It happened before, right? Kiri is probably fine, you try to convince yourself, but you can’t help the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

As you swim up for a breath, you take a deep dive again, determined to search for Kiri in the depths of the water. Silent prayers to Eywa express your gratitude, when your gaze is drawn to a small figure hidden between tall leaves. Your heart skips a beat as you realize what you are seeing: Kiri's whole body is glowing with an otherworldly light. In all your years, you have never seen anything quite like it.

Noticing that she has begun to violently shake, you quickly swim to Kiri, and gently pull her queue away, forcing her body to go limp. Desperately, you try to get her out of the leaves, but it seems that the harder you try, the tighter they grip her limbs.

Your mind starts racing, and panic begins to set in, when you suddenly see a pair of hands cutting down the leaves around Kiri's body with a small knife. Right, a knife! You take out yours and start helping. With the last of the leaves cut, Kiri's body begins to float upwards. Neteyam quickly wraps his arm around her middle, and signals for you to follow, as he places her on his ilu and swims to the surface.

You race after him, your heart pounding in your chest. As you break the surface, Neteyam’s already positioning Kiri’s body on a flat rock, gently shaking her. You join him, noting how calm and collected he seems.

“Neteyam, there’s something wrong. She was still linked and shaking, when I found her,” your voice breaks.

“Shit,” he curses, and checks for Kiri’s breath.

You watch as he starts performing something strange: Neteyam breathes air into Kiri’s mouth, then starts counting as he presses down on her chest in an unfamiliar rhythm. A wave of fear washes over you, when you notice his hands start shaking.

“Shit, shit, shit,” Neteyam curses again, “Help me, please.”

“I don’t know what to do, Neteyam,” you panic, “She’s not breathing!”

“When I stop pressing, just try to breathe out as much air as you can into her mouth,” he orders, and continues counting.

“Alright, alright,” you try to calm yourself down.

You do your best following his instructions, and it seems to put him back on track too. But as time drags on, and Kiri still doesn't respond, both of you begin to feel a sense of despair.

Just as you're about to give up hope, Kiri moves weakly beneath you, and finally takes a breath on her own. You let out a sigh of relief, tears streaming down your face.

“It worked,” Neteyam’s eyes glisten, as he checks for her breathing.

"We need to take her to Tsahik, right now," you breathe out, and he nods.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everything afterwards happens in a blur of confusion. Your heart races, as you nervously pace around Tsahik’s marui, where Kiri is getting examined by a group of strangers: a Na’vi wearing human clothes, and two sky people who arrived on a flying ship. Jake and Neteyam are with them in the room, talking and talking, but you can’t quite understand.

There is a tension in the air when Neytiri returns with Ronal. She raises her voice at them, and before you can even begin to wonder what's going on, the men exit the marui, leaving the women alone. You catch a glimpse of Jake as he passes by you, and for a moment, you feel struck by his presence.

He looks tired and scared, like he has been suffering for a long time now. You recall your conversation with Lo’ak. While in your mind you are convinced that he is the bad guy, seeing him in this state makes you feel a twinge of sympathy for him.

“You don’t have to wait,” Neteyam pulls you out of your thoughts. His words are not necessarily ill-intended, but you still feel out of place.

“I want to make sure she’s alright,” you explain. Neteyam only nods, “What are they saying?”

He falls silent, as if contemplating whether he needs to reveal to you whatever he knows.

“She’s going to be better, right?” your voice hitches.

“Hey, hey,” he crouches down next to you, “Of course, she will. Kiri is very strong.”

It’s only a second of vulnerability showing on his side, before the usual mask slips back onto his face, and you can’t tell what he’s thinking. At all. Both of your attentions are quickly drawn back to the marui, when Ronal steps out. Jake rushes to her side, with Neteyam and you close on his heels.

“She is weak but the Great Mother granted her another chance,” Ronal answers, “Now, she needs her rest.”

“Thank you,” Jake expresses with sincerity in his voice, before disappearing into the marui. From the inside, you hear soft sobs. Neteyam hesitates to take a step, glancing back at you.

“Go in, see for yourself,” you encourage him, and he complies.

At the risk of interrupting their family moment, you sit down slightly far from the marui, waiting. You’re not sure how much time passes, when Jake walks out. You shift uncomfortably when he approaches you.

“Thank you, Y/N,” he clears his throat, as he crouches in front of you, “You saved my daughter.”

“I only found her,” you admit, “If it wasn’t for Neteyam…”

“You did well, you got to her just in time,” Jake interrupts, “Neteyam said that you even helped him with chest compressions.”

“I don’t know what that even was,” you genuinely chuckle. You only guessed it was something borrowed from the sky people.

“Yet you saved her, thank you,” he insists with a small smile.

You look at him, trying to read his face. There’s something in his eyes that suggests he’s being genuine. He breaks the silence again, this time his tone more careful.

“I know about your fight with Neteyam. He didn’t want to tell me the reason but I guessed it was something serious. There’s really not many things to get him to act like that.”

“I can’t possibly agree or understand your decisions,” you remain calm, despite the rushing heat to your face, “I think it’s unfair.”

“I know, I’m not always making the best decisions,” he shakes his head, “And I get why you don’t like me much but I can’t risk losing my family.”

“You don’t have to,” you interrupt, “If you just go out there alone, they’ll stop hurting everybody else.”

“I wish it had been that easy. I don’t even care about my own death anymore, but I just know it won’t be enough,” he seems defeated, “They will come for my family next. Everything that I care for, and more. They did once already.”

“But aren’t you the one they’re looking for?”

“It’s grown beyond vengeance at this point,” Jake shakes his head, “They caught Lo’ak and Kiri once, and Tuk… they had Tuk. If anything happened to them, I don’t know what I would have done. We barely got them out, it was…”

“Must have been terrifying,” you finish for him. You think back to your sister getting caught, held at a gunpoint, and your chest hurts with sudden empathy for him.

As a father, it must be times more terrifying for him to see his kids in the hands of an enemy. It makes sense now: the great Toruk Makto had a weak spot.

“I think I get it,” you nod in understanding, “When they captured my sister... I have never been more scared in my life. It still keeps me up every night.”

“I’m sorry,” Jake sighs, “Do you know if she’s…?”

“Alive? I don’t know. She promised to come looking for me, once it’s safe but it’s been weeks now,” your voice hitches, “When they were about to capture me, she pushed me out of the way, which really pissed them off. Especially their chief.”

“I hope you get to see her again,” Jake reaches out, to pat you on your shoulder. You let him, “It is honorable to sacrifice yourself for the other to live. Eywa will bless her for keeping you alive.”

“I feel like I failed her, hiding here,” you look away in an attempt to hide the tears filling up your eyes, “I should have stayed there.”

“It’s not your fault, kid, you did your best,” Jake gently touches your chin to turn your face back to him. When he notices your tears, his eyebrows knit together in worry, “She would be proud of you.”

A small sob escapes your lips, and you feel ashamed to break down in front of him. You’re caught off guard, when Jake pulls you into a hug. It’s strangely comforting how tight it feels in your throat, as you bury your face in his chest, letting yourself silently cry. You feel him pat you on the back, until you can finally slowly recover your breath.

“Dad?” Neteyam’s voice grabs both of your attention. He leans against the entrance of the marui, looking confused between the two of you.

You instantly pull away from Jake, hanging your head in a mix of strange emotions. It’s not every day that you receive comfort from the very person you thought was your enemy.

“I’ll be right there,” Jake says, standing up, “Do you want to see her, Y/N?”

You nod in gratitude, wiping away your tears before following Jake. As you enter, Neteyam gives you a puzzled look, like he’s trying to figure out what the hell you and his father were talking about. Your eyes land on Neytiri, sat by Kiri’s side, holding her hand in hers.

“How is she?” Jake asks, sitting down next to his mate and pulling her into his side.

“She is going to be better, once she rests,” Neytiri answers quietly, returning her eyes to Kiri, and stroking her cheek, “My child.”

You feel out of place in the presence of the Sully family. Just a few days ago, you thought you hated Jake, and now you find yourself caring for his family.

You suddenly realize that if he knows about your fight with Neteyam, then Neytiri surely knows too. You can't help but wonder if she hates you. Standing there, you feel like an intruder, interrupting their vulnerable moment.

“Y/N,” Neytiri's voice pulls you out of your thoughts, “Thank you for saving my child.”

“You did good, kid,” Jake adds, then turns his gaze to Neteyam, “Both of you.”

As you open your mouth to protest, Neytiri cuts you off with a firm tone.

“Get some rest. You too, Neteyam.”

As much as you want to say something, anything, there's a strange authority in Neytiri's voice that makes it impossible to disobey. It's strange because she reminds you of your mother - strong, stubborn, yet caring. You were never able to disobey your mother.

“It’s okay, kid, you can check on Kiri later,” Jake encourages.

With a grateful nod, you leave the marui. Neteyam silently follows you out.

“Um, I should probably go tell the others now,” he grabs your attention.

“Yes, Lo’ak must be worried,” you agree with him.

Lo’ak wasn’t allowed to be with you in the marui. He was staying with Tuk, until further instructions, whereas Tsireya and Ao'nung got scolded by their mother for not keeping an eye on Kiri, and were sent home right away. Neteyam and you were the only ones who were overlooked in the matter.

“Thank you for helping me back there,” he scratches his head, “If it wasn’t for you, I could’ve lost her.”

“I don’t think I deserve the credit here, ‘Teyam,” you pause.

Did you just call him by his nickname? ‘Teyam? Do you think you’re friends? Shit.

His eyes widen and you catch just a tiniest hint of a small smile before he bites down on his lip to hide it.

“Neteyam,” you correct yourself, “I froze when I couldn’t get her out of those leaves. I can’t believe I forgot about my knife.”

“Hey, and I panicked. But in the end, we kind of made a good team,” he snorts.

“Right,” you chuckle at the irony.

Because you’re both headed in the same direction, Neteyam and you walk together in silence. After a while, he catches your attention again.

“I saw you talking to my father,” he hesitates before meeting your eyes, “Can I ask you about it?”

“You can ask him if you want.”

“So it went badly?” Neteyam guesses.

“No, not half as bad as I expected,” you stop in your tracks, before admitting, “Actually, I think I kind of get it.”

Neteyam only nods but you’re not sure if he really understands the value behind your words. He hopes that it means a change of your perception but deep down, he still feels a little scared. You don’t talk for the rest of the way but you don’t seem bothered by his presence, your thoughts now occupied with the woodsprite you saw earlier. Maybe Eywa was right and the two of you can mend this after all.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

“Y/N,” Tsireya’s soft voice wakes you up. She has a bright smile on her face, “Kiri’s awake! I thought you’d like to see her.”

Together, you make your way towards Tsahik’s marui, already noticing the Sully’s and friends coming and going. Tsireya pulls you along with her, but miscalculates her grip, causing you to bump into someone. It’s Neteyam. You can feel your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Mawey, Y/N,” he grins, as he steadies you by your shoulders. You can hear Ao’nungs low chuckle but ignore him.

“Sorry, Y/N,” Tsireya whispers to you.

“I’m fine,” you smile at her, then turn back to Neteyam. He still keeps his hands on you, “Neteyam.”

“Good morning to you too,” he says, finally lowering his hands. Still, you’re too close to each other.

Before things get more awkward, Kiri’s voice breaks the tension. She calls out your name, and you rush to join her by the mat, taking her hands in yours with worry. Kiri weakly smiles in response.

“I promise, I am doing better,” she reassures you, “And for that I have to thank my saviors! You hear that?” she loudly asks.

“I was worried sick for you, and you’re joking,” you roll your eyes at her, but can’t help a giddy smile. You’re glad she’s back to her normal self. You stay with her for some time, questioning her about her health, as she tries to swat you away.

“Out, out, Kiri has to eat!” Neytiri’s voice interrupts your small exchange, “And rest!”

She walks in with a bowl of cut up fruits in her hands, on her way managing to usher out some of the visitors.

“Mom,” Kiri whines annoyedly.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

That night you’re haunted by a nightmare. You’re swimming in the crystal-clear water, the warm sun rays piercing your eyes with a satisfying itch. From afar, you make out the beach which you would recognize anywhere: you’re back home, in your village. As you dive into the depths, you suddenly feel a hand clasping yours but the feeling is familiar. It’s your sister, swimming alongside you.

You smile. It reminds you of the old times, when you were little, spending your time swimming and holding hands with your sister, so none of you gets lost. Suddenly, the darkness engulfs you, making it hard to see. You look up to find a massive cloud forming in the sky, and you try to pull your sister with you to the surface. But she doesn’t budge, instead letting go of your hand with a small smile. Gasping for air, you break the surface, before diving back in for her, but this time she’s even farther away from you. You try to reach her again again and again, but each time the air in your lungs gets thinner, as she slips further away, eventually hitting the bottom.

You wake up, with your sister’s name lingering on your lips. It’s still dark outside, and too early for the morning. To clear your head, you head towards the trees, deeper on the island.

As you push through the dense bushes, you finally reach a small clearing nestled between tall trees. Then bang! All of a sudden someone throws you off your feet, hitting your back against the ground, and you see a familiar face hover above you. He’s so close, you can feel his braids grazing your skin. Neteyam. You growl.

“What the hell?” you slap his chest angrily, but he doesn’t budge, his arms firmly planted by the sides of your face. His knee rests between your thighs, restricting your movement.

“This is a familiar pose,�� he smirks, and you roll your eyes at him, “Why aren’t you asleep?”

You notice a headpiece he’s wearing that you’ve never seen on him before. It looks like the ones that guardians assigned by Tonowari wear during their shifts.

“I was trying to clear my head. Why aren’t you?”

“I’m guarding,” he smiles, “This very same area, by the way.”

“You’re a guardian?” you snort.

Neteyam shakes his head amused, swaying his braids over your skin. Almost mocking you.

“Get off me,” you lightly slap his chest again, but he has something else on his mind. To tease you further, he pins your arms, and pushes his knee against you, right between your thighs.

You know that it’s innocent on his side, but your body reacts differently, separate from your mind. You feel blood rush to your face, as your ears, like a pair of wings, suddenly flutter in pleasure. Of course this doesn’t escape his eyes. You can see his pupils dilate, and an unreadable expression covering his face. You want to hide and scream out of embarrassment.

“Please,” you plead, and he pulls away from you so fast, it’s almost like he takes a leap.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” he apologizes, keeping a small distance between you.

He’s embarrassed too, you think. He doesn’t meet your eyes, but you can almost see how hundreds of thoughts are rushing through his brain in an attempt to change the subject. You sit up, dusting off your skin in uncomfortable silence, until he finally dares to speak up.

“Do you want me to walk you back?” he scratches his head, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

“No,” your voice is so low. Shit, “I need to clear my head.”

“Did you have a nightmare?” he asks gently.

You stand up, to dust the remains off your back and knees. You feel Neteyam’s eyes roaming over your body.

“I saw my sister in my dream,” you finally answer, “It just confused me more.”

“Confused you about what?”

“The signs. I can’t figure out what Eywa is trying to tell me.”

“Tell me,” Neteyam offers, it’s not an order.

You hesitate. Opening up to him out of all Na’vi? To be fair, you’d rather tell someone who doesn’t care about you, who would just listen for the sake of curiosity, not pity or empathy. But also he looks so sincere and trustworthy. Is the tiredness suddenly affecting your perception of him?

“Well,” you sigh, “Ever since my parents died, I could feel their presence whenever I talked to Eywa. And the other day, by the Spirit Tree, I thought that if my sister were dead, then I’d feel her too. But I couldn’t.”

“And the nightmare makes you think otherwise?”

“Yes. In the nightmare, we were swimming but every time I tried pulling her with me to the surface, to get her out, she wouldn’t budge. It’s like she didn’t want to be saved.”

“A nightmare can be just a nightmare, Y/N,” Neteyam pats your shoulder to comfort you.

“This was different,” you shake your head in disagreement, “I can feel it. I just wish I didn’t get my hopes up.”

Faint voices catch your attention. Neteyam’s ears perk up, as he focuses on the sounds in the distance, suddenly very aware of his surroundings.

"What do you hear?" you ask but he brings his thumb to your lips, shushing you.

“If the other guards hear you, they’ll take me off the duty.”

It feels like an eternity as he keeps his thumb over your lips. He stares off into darkness but all you can do is look at him. You admire how the moonlight highlights his features, his freckles and eyes glowing in the dark. His breathing is slow, strangely calming. You can’t help but think that the headpiece suits him even though it doesn’t prevent some of his braids escaping and framing his face. It’s almost funny how they seem to have a life on their own, swaying from left to right with every small movement he makes.

There is a flutter in your chest, as you realize how handsome he is. Shit. Maybe you’re just tired.

You wrap your fingers around his wrist, lowering his hand from your face, and it finally seems to catch his attention. You let your fingers linger on his skin for a little longer before letting go.

“Your purpose is to get me in trouble, isn’t it?” Neteyam smiles.

“What?” you frown at him.

“First, it was the fighting, now you happen to sneak away to the area I guard, so I get busted?”

“I didn’t intentionally -” you start justifying yourself but he’s quick to interrupt.

“I know, I’m kidding.”

Kidding. You admit that, given your history, it is a little funny. You can’t help but smile back.

The exhaustion seems to creep up on you, as you let out a yawn.

“I am probably going to regret this,” Neteyam mumbles, as if more to himself, than to you, “You know how Kiri sometimes falls asleep in random places?”

“Yeah?”

“Since you don’t want to go back to your bed, you can crash here,” he scratches his forehead, slightly embarrassed, as he points to the patch of grass in front of you.

“You want me to sleep here?” you snort.

“I’m just saying, give it a try. I promise I will be on the lookout.”

You consider it for a second. It sounds ridiculous but the lush grass does seem inviting, softer than your bed. Another yawn creeps up on you. Is it bad that you want to stay here for a while?

“I-I’m not sure I can sleep here,” you admit. Not under his gaze anyway.

“Oh, come on, it’s easy,” he suddenly warms up.

Neteyam stretches out on the grass and waves you over with the biggest grin.

“This is what Kiri does. She just lies down, relaxes, and just like that, she’s off to her dream world,” Neteyam imitates his sister, “Come on.”

“Alright,” you give up, as you walk over to him.

You know it’s innocent but you still feel nervous. Neteyam pats the grass next to him, encouraging you to lay down. You comply, and he watches you relax, as he tousles some of the grass beneath your head. This was a bad idea.

“Feels good, right?” he asks, propping himself up on one elbow so he can look at you.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. It does.

“I’m starting to understand why Kiri falls asleep so easily,” you say, and hear him chuckle.

“Right? Sleeping outside is way more fun. There is just something about the open sky,” he sighs, “It reminds me of home.”

You keep your eyes closed but you can sense Neteyam’s still watching you.

“What is it?” you ask.

“Oh, nothing,” he sounds flustered, like he got caught, “I just thought you had fallen asleep already.”

“Neteyam?”

“Hm?”

You turn your head to look at him, meeting his curious golden eyes.

“Can you tell me something? I’m not too sleepy yet,” you admit.

“What would you like to hear?” his voice is soft. So soft, you have to tense your ears to hear him.

And he talks. It was easy to guess that Neteyam would speak about the things he values the most, about his family. You’re conflicted between hearing him out and discovering this new world you never knew existed, or leaving him here alone to avoid the guilt weighing down on you.

He tells you about his mother with pride, about her accomplishments and how she stood up for the things she believed in. He mentions that her clan was closely acquainted with the ‘good’ sky people who lived near the rainforest where he was born. These were the ones that tried helping Kiri yesterday. He also tells you about his father, who came from a star, and how he was almost killed by his mother before being saved by Eywa. He speaks fondly of his grandfather, whom he was told to look like, and who was a skilled warrior and protector of his clan, despite never having known him personally. And he tells you about his grandmother, who was strict but deeply loving. He missed her everyday since moving.

As Neteyam talks about the rainforest, his eyes light up with excitement. His descriptions are so vivid and detailed that you can almost see the towering trees, the creatures, and the weapons used by the Omatikaya. At times, he has to articulate with his hands and body to explain it. You feel your tiredness slip away. The more he talks, the more intrigued you get by his life, his stories.

At some point, you overtake the conversation, telling him about your home. You’re rushing through your words because there is so much you want to share. As if its pure existence depends on how much you can recall. At first, Neteyam has a guilty expression that eventually turns into a curious one. Sure, he’s been living with a water clan for months now but the way he reacted to your stories could make you think that he had never even seen water up close.

Hours pass, as your voices get smaller, and drowsiness completely takes over the two of you.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

When you wake up, you feel slightly restrained around your middle. You’re holding onto Neteyam’s arm, wrapped around your middle, and your legs intertwined. Shit.

“Neteyam,” you turn around, slightly shoving him, “”Teyam.”

He slowly opens his eyes, blinking the sleep away. It takes a moment for him to focus on you. So close, you think. Too close.

“Do you mind?” you gesture at his arm.

Neteyam’s a little slow in the morning, you notice. His eyes lazily follow your movement, roam over your body, as if trying to understand what happened, until he finally realizes. You swear, for a second you hear a faint flutter of his ears.

Your eyes snap back at him, and he sheepishly smiles, pulling away.

“Finally,” you mumble, as you get off the grass, “I should…I should go, I promised Tsireya that we’ll do this thing, um, in the morning.” Why can’t you lie?

“Right, and my shift’s over, so my mom will be looking for me,” Neteyam nods his head.

“Uh, well, I’ll see you around then?” you hesitate.

“Sure.”

Is he brushing you off? Slightly embarrassed, you turn around and walk ahead. When you hear his voice call out to you, your heart skips a beat.

“Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“Friends?”

You pause for a second, then nod with a smile. His face lightens up. Let’s try.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Trying is definitely a good word to describe this new friendship you’re developing with Neteyam. Within a group, you still keep your distance. So much, that it almost seems like your friendship is supposed to be a secret. You’re scared of being called a hypocrite if you get too close. But you were on good terms with Lo’ak, and basically best friends with Kiri, so there’s really no reason for anyone to call you that. Ugh, but it’s different. Neteyam is different.

When you’re hanging out with the group, you’re always distracted, keeping an eye on him. He doesn't seem as interested in you though. On the contrary, his attention is divided between disciplining his siblings and breaking apart Ao’nung and Kiri from biting off each other’s heads.

Very rarely, in those quiet moments when you go to swim by yourself, you can catch him watching you from a distance. You find it hard to read his expressions, Neteyam is too good at hiding whatever he’s feeling. You, not so much.

Ever since your talk with Jake, and the night you spent with Neteyam, you have conflicted feelings. You’re not sure where you stand anymore. Having voiced your opinions loudly on your first days, you almost expect to pick another fight with him. But you also kind of dread it.

And the tension between you is not anger anymore. He’s still annoying at times but you learned to find it amusing, rather than frustrating. Sometimes, when he looks at you, your heart jumps. And well, it’s not looking good for you.

In those rare moments when you two are left alone, you bicker. It’s strange because you’re almost convinced that he enjoys provoking you on purpose. Neteyam thinks that his responsibility as a guard gives him some sort of control over you. He likes to play the savior.

“Hey, I’m neither Lo’ak, or Kiri, you can’t boss me around!” you frown, after he suggests you don’t go for a swim past the curfew.

“As a guardian, I make sure that everyone’s staying safe,” he raises his eyebrows, like he already won the argument.

“Isn’t your job looking out for the outsiders? Like humans? With weapons, you know? Not terrorizing me for wanting to swim!”

“I sometimes really think you’re doing this on purpose just to see how far you can push me.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Time really seems to stretch out when you don’t get news from the other islands for a few days. Tonowari doubles the guardians around the village, and sends out a small group of swimmers for updates. It must be bad.

“Do you know anything?” you ask Tsireya.

Tsireya tries to be the best daughter to her parents but hanging out around you, the Sully’s, and her brother even, really challenges her sometimes. She knows she’s not supposed to tell you anything but when you all look at her in anticipation, she gives up eventually. To be a good brother, Ao'nung beats her to it from time to time.

“Tsireya?” Lo’ak pushes, knowing just the tone to use on her.

“You can’t tell anyone, I mean,” she looks at Kiri, “The last time the demons attacked one of the villages was a few days ago. The reason we didn’t get any news was because they wiped it out. Completely.”

You see her eyes glisten with tears, and hang your head in defeat. There really isn’t anything you can do, huh? No matter how hard you try. Nothing at all.

“Tsireya, what else?” Kiri wraps her arm around her shoulders.

“And… our attempts to save these clans are turning out to be more damaging,” she sniffles, “Now that the sky demons know that Na’vi are armed, they have doubled their forces. And they are more brutal. Some of the clans think of running from the islands before they get caught.”

“Shit,” Lo’ak curses, “But your dad must have a plan, right? My parents were with him the whole day yesterday. I can tell they’re hiding something.”

“Lo’ak, I can’t tell you,” Tsireya pleads with him.

“They want to take out their chief,” Ao’nung suddenly speaks, “They suggested luring him out and killing him.”

“But your father said he won’t be attacking first,” Lo’ak frowns.

“That’s right, my father won’t. But your father considers it.”

Ao’nung words send the group into a panic, as everyone starts talking, asking for more information. You gulp down, trying to ignore this anxious feeling in your chest. Once again, painful images of your burning home appear in front of you.

Knowing that your plan has caused the destruction of another village makes you feel like shit. This can’t be happening. You can feel yourself losing your grip on your breathing as your body begins to shake. The others continue to talk, but their words become muffled and indistinct, drowned out by the noise in your ears.

“Mawey,” Neteyam whispers to you, taking your hand in his, “Just breathe, Y/N.”

You nod but your body won’t comply. The longer you can’t seem to breathe, the shakier you get. Neteyam squeezes your hand, and starts loudly breathing in and out of his mouth.

“Just follow my lead, alright? Breathe in,” he waits for you to repeat after him, “And out. Right, just like that.”

After many attempts of repeating after him, you finally seem to calm down your breathing, and your heartbeat slows into its natural rhythm.

“Good girl,” he gives your hand another squeeze, “Are you alright?”

“I need to get out of here,” you whisper to him.

“Then let’s go,” he says, pulling you to your feet. You don’t protest.

When both of you walk away, still holding hands, you feel everyone’s eyes turn to you. Ugh. You’re definitely going to be questioned to death for this by Kiri and Tsireya, though right now you don’t care. You just want to be somewhere else.

Neteyam leads you towards the trees. When you reach a small stream, he comes to a stop.

“Hey, you feeling better?” he asks softly, still holding your hand. You nod, looking down at his fingers tightly wrapped around your palm.

“I feel so guilty, for causing more pain,” your eyes start filling up with tears, as you rush through your words, “ I’m scared that we won’t be able to stop them. And I do this thing where I freeze in the most dangerous situations, it’s like my mind takes me to a bad place.”

“Y/N,” Neteyam’s voice is concerned, “I promise, nothing will happen to you.”

“But it’s nightmares every night. I swear, I sometimes can’t tell them apart from the reality,” you admit, looking back at him.

“Mawey, you’ll get through this,” Neteyam comforts you, “I trust you because I know you have a strong heart. But Y/N… what’s happening to you is very familiar.”

“In what way?” Neteyam sighs before opening his mouth.

“My father has this same response sometimes, like panicking and losing your breath. The nightmares. He says that it can happen when one suffers through something very bad, like war, or losing someone close.”

“Well, how did he stop it?” you frown at him.

“He didn’t. You can’t really stop it,” he shakes his head, with a pained expression on his face, “But my mother helps him.”

“How?”

“She talks to distract him. Reminds him that it’s in the past.,” Neteyam answers, then gestures at your hands still interlocked, “She holds him.”

You nod, and squeeze his hand in appreciation. A few tears escape from your eyes, as you look away. Neteyam brings his hand to your face, wiping them away.

“Don’t cry.”

“Am not,” you sniffle.

“Seriously, don’t,” Neteyam grazes your cheek with his thumb, “It upsets me.”

“Why would you care?” you snort.

“Oh, because it’s creepy!” he teases, making you smile, “Seeing you cry is probably going to send the rest of our friends to Eywa.”

“Shut it,” you smack him, but he only laughs.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Tsireya suggests adding beads into your hair, as she works on your braids. Usually, you would have your hair in small braids, but she convinced you to try out a hairstyle similar to hers: braids at the roots, to prevent hair from falling into your eyes, and letting the rest flow in its natural way. You roll your eyes at the way Tsireya beams at you but you’re secretly happy to be distracted.

The two of you sit on the grass terrace, with two Elderly Na’vi not too far. They seem to enjoy watching Tsireya’s wonders on your hair, and you feel infinitely thankful to them, when Kiri plops down in front of you. She can’t grill you with her questions in their presence.

“Kiri, are you next?” Tsireya asks her, a hint of hope in her tone.

“No, my hair’s too short for all of that,” Kiri gestures at Tsireya’s long curls.

“Nonsense, I think it would look very pretty on you.”

Tsireya continues convincing Kiri, while she works on your braids, when suddenly you sense a movement. The Elderly Na’vi, now seemingly disinterested, walk away, leaving the three of you to yourselves. Oh, sweet Eywa, please don’t.

“So…Y/N,” Kiri beats you to your silent prayer, “You and Neteyam.”

“What about me and Neteyam?” you quirk your eyebrow at her. You’re going to play dumb.

“What’s happening between you?” she squints at you, “And please don’t tell me that you’re in love with him.”

“Oh but I think they would look great together,” Tsireya adds in her dreamy voice. Shit.

“What are you two talking about?” you roll your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks, “He’s annoying.”

“But like in a cute way?” Kiri tries to crack you.

“In a way that makes your heart flutter?” Tsireya adds.

“Are you thinking about Lo’ak right now?” you turn to look at Tsireya with a sly smile. If you just get to switch the topic, you will give yourself a small window to flee. She looks taken aback.

“Hey, don’t distract us!” Kiri interrupts, waving at you, “It’s alright, Tsireya, we all know he likes you back.”

Tsireya gulps down in embarrassment but doesn’t say anything. Kiri stares at you expectantly.

“What?”

“You were holding hands,” she states.

“I hold hands with Tsireya all the time too,” you’re definitely overplaying, “Neteyam and I are just trying to be more…civil.”

“Yet when you were panicking, it was Neteyam, and not Tsireya, holding your hand and taking you to the trees,” Kiri notes.

Is she playing a smartass? Caught off guard, your eyes widen.

“Why did you go into the trees, Y/N? Were you doing something you didn’t want us to see?” Kiri pushes, trying to crack you.

“Stop it,” you hiss at her.

“I just find it disgusting that he would go for my friend, right after Lo’ak already stole Tsireya from me,” Kiri crosses her arms in front of her chest, “All of you are inconsiderate.”

“A brother for a brother,” Tsireya whispers, and you can’t help but laugh.

“What is that supposed to mean?” Kiri raises her voice.

“Come on, Kiri. Ao'nung is always flirting with you,” you explain, then wince in pain, as Tsireya pulls on your hair.

“Sorry!” she apologizes immediately, “I was just agreeing with you, didn’t mean to pull your hair.”

“You two are unbelievable. Ao’nung is terrible. No offense, Tsireya,” Kiri denies, “And don’t switch topics here, Y/N! You and Neteyam were jumping at each other’s throats since you met, now suddenly you consider him a friend? What happened?”

“Well, there was this time when we had to team up to save your ass,” you tease, enjoying Kiri’s escalating anger, “No, but really. I think we were just really scared for you.”

“Ooh,” the two of them awe in unison, “So that’s it?”

“And Eywa,” you mumble under your breath.

“Eywa?” Kiri’s ears perk up, as she leans in. Right away, Tsireya drops your hair, as she quickly positions herself next to Kiri, her attention now fully on you.

“Well… back when we went to the Spirit Tree, he and I fell a little behind. Then I saw a woodsprite floating around us. Neteyam had his back turned, so he didn’t even notice.”

“Do you think Eywa wants you two -” Kiri doesn’t finish.

“No, it was more of a sign for me to stop resenting him,” you shake your head in embarrassment, “So now I’m trying to listen and be nice to him.”

“That makes sense. Eywa wouldn’t bless you as a couple anyway, it’s too soon,” Kiri says.

“No, it’s not,” Tsireya disagrees, “They’re both capable of choosing mates before Eywa.”

Kiri opens her mouth to protest but then decides against it.

“Doesn’t matter. It’s not the time,” you shake your head, and the girls seem to agree with you, “And Neteyam is not the one. He is my friend. So please stop teasing me for giving him a chance.”

Content with your answer, Kiri drops it. You suspect that Tsireya hasn’t been fully convinced by your words but she is too kind to keep pushing you. You give her a grateful smile for understanding. If anything, she can relate in some way.

Speak of the devil… When you see Neteyam approaching you, you can feel the girls’ eyes on you, looking for a reaction. Neteyam throws a quick look at you, slightly surprised by your hair, but says nothing. He doesn’t like it? You feel a little insecure.

“Hey,” he bows quickly, “Kiri, mother wants you back at home for dinner.”

Kiri rolls her eyes but gets up from the grass. Tsireya follows.

“My family is probably waiting for me too.”

“You’re lucky you have no one telling you what to do, Y/N,” Kiri blurts out, then covers her mouth.

“Kiri!” Tsireya tsks at her, but it’s a little too late.

When it came to dinners, you were mostly having them alone, or sometimes skipping them at all. For your first two weeks, Tsireya would drag you to her house for every single meal but eventually you restarted hunting and actually enjoyed preparing your own meals.

“Y/N, you coming to our place tonight?” Tsireya encourages.

You prepare yourself to politely decline her invitation but Neteyam beats you to it.

“Actually, what do you think about joining us instead?” he asks softly.

Both Tsireya, Kiri and you look at him in surprise. He had never invited you directly in front of others. Not even Kiri has. And the idea of you spending the evening with his father. Yikes. Sure, you somewhat felt more comfortable seeing Jake in the village but sitting in front of him for dinner is totally different.

“Um, I don’t think it’s a good idea,” you mumble.

“Nonsense, Y/N, now that I think about it, I should have invited you a long time ago,” Kiri suddenly jumps in, “And after you saved my ass. Mom and dad would love to thank you.”

“Especially my mom,” Neteyam adds.

If they think they’re making a good point, they must be completely unaware of how uncomfortable you feel around Neytiri. She is intimidating, you think. You can never even talk to her.

“Well?” Neteyam nudges you with a warm smile.

You bite your lip, trying to think of an excuse. Any excuse. But your head is empty, as the three of them look at you expectantly. Tsireya nods her head at you with an encouraging smile.

“If you’re sure,” you admit your defeat.

Happily, Kiri swings her arm around you, leading you towards their marui.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Sully's marui is bigger than yours, it’s not surprising. They are a family of six after all, you are a single child. Still, you think that you could never live with so many people: losing your parents at a young age made you well acquainted with sharing a room with only one person at a time. Now you share it with no one.

When you shyly walk in, you think your heart is going to jump out of your chest. Kiri pulls you by your hand.

“Mom, dad,” Neteyam grabs their attention, “We invited Y/N to share today’s meal with us.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Jake’s ears perk up, as he stands up with a small smile. You bow. Little Tuk copies her father as she runs up to you, curiously examining you.

“I hope it’s okay,” you smile sheepishly.

“It’s good that you came. You need to eat well,” Neytiri walks up to you with a bowl of food in her hands.

“Mom,” Kiri rolls her eyes, “Y/N eats fine, stop.”

“Not fine enough for a hunter,” Neytiri turns to you, “A good hunter must look after themselves. So eat.”

You nod your head with a small chuckle escaping your lips, as you take the bowl from her. Neteyam gives you a proud smile.

When all of you are seated to eat, Lo’ak rushes into the marui, barely catching his breath.

“Sorry I’m late,” he throws, quickly sitting down next to you, “Oh, hi, Y/N.”

You greet him back, then notice a non-verbal exchange between the siblings. They seem to be doing this way too often. Lo’ak shoots a questioning look at Neteyam, but Neteyam just rolls his eyes at him, and returns to his food. Lo’ak tries again with Kiri. Kiri shrugs her shoulders, then smiles pointing at Neteyam with her eyes. Lo’ak snorts.

“Lo’ak,” Jake grumbles.

“Sorry,” Lo’ak gets back to his bowl without being able to retrieve his smile.

At first, you feel awkward. While they exchange some news with each other, you don’t participate, simply observing them from underneath your lashes. Tuk excitedly tells about her new friendship with a young ilu. Lo’ak shares that he was swimming with Payakan. Jake gives him a displeased look but doesn’t say anything. You think that the food is very good. It’s a shame that you can’t enjoy it because you feel uncomfortable. Why did you have to agree?

“Y/N,” Neytiri turns to you, “I’ve seen you hunt near the trees. Do you prefer it to the water?”

“It depends,” you feel like she is testing you but you don’t want to lie, “I feel most comfortable in the water. But sometimes it gets boring, so I look for the prey in the green. It’s more challenging.”

Neytiri nods, and you notice Jake’s and Neteyam’s approving smiles on you, which makes you feel like you passed the test. Whatever the test was.

“Mom is an excellent hunter,” Kiri adds, “You should join her sometime.”

“I will only be a distraction,” you try to disagree, as you hear Lo’ak chuckle next to you. Is he enjoying how much more uncomfortable his family can make you?

“Lo’ak,” Neytiri slaps the back of his head, “Have you tried hunting on an ikran, Y/N?”

“No, I’ve never even flown,” you give her a sheepish smile, as her eyes widen in surprise. You suppose it’s pretty common, since you grew up around the water.

“You’ve never flown!” Tuk exclaims, as if you are missing out.

“Then it’s decided,” Jake announces, exchanging a knowing look with Neytiri. Oh no.

“Next time I go flying, I will take you with me. You will enjoy it more than swimming,” she smiles.

You and Neytiri. Going to fly. You can’t even speak looking into her eyes, are you sure you will be able to fly with her in the air? At a height? While she hunts?

“Don’t worry, Y/N, you have nothing to be scared of,” Neteyam encourages you with a smile, “I’m sure you will love flying.”

Tuk nods in agreement, clapping her hands together. Neteyam finds his sister’s reaction amusing and lovingly pats her on the head. You enjoy this side of him a little too much, as you watch the interaction with a small smile.

“Like what you see?” Lo’ak whispers to you with a grin.

“What?” it’s hard for you to play cool when he just caught you.

“Nothing,” Lo’ak acts disinterested, biting down on the piece of fish, “Just warning that you’re being too obvious.”

“Just like you’re obvious with the chief’s daughter,” you whisper back, and watch as Lo’ak chokes on his food.

“Eat slower, Lo’ak,” Neytiri scolds him.

As the evening goes on, you feel slightly more at ease. Although the thought of you dying while flying with Neytiri nags at you, you try to push it to the back of your mind for the time being. You and Kiri eventually find a thread of your own conversation, and you occasionally catch Neteyam’s gracing you with his proud smiles.

When you’re finished with thanking them for having you over, Kiri stands up instinctively to walk you out. You’re both confused when Neteyam jumps to his feet, gently pushing his sister out of his way.

“It’s too late for you to be out, Kiri,” he says, his accent thick, “I will walk Y/N home.”

“Since when am I not to be out at this hour?” Kiri is baffled, as she turns to Jake with an expectant look, “Dad?”

“Since you started falling asleep underwater, Kiri,” Jake throws her a knowing look.

When you exit the marui with Neteyam close on your heels, you’re caught by surprise, feeling his arm snake around your shoulder. As you’re about to react, you almost stumble in the dark, and Neteyam helps you keep your balance.

“It’s a bit uneven here, especially in the dark, many stumble,” he explains, as he lets go of you.

“Thanks,” you mumble, looking at him, “Why did you have to invite me?”

“Did you have other plans?” Neteyam quirks at you. You shake your head.

“Still, after everything I said and did, I feel like you all must hate me.”

“You gave me a second chance, right?” Neteyam smiles, “Why wouldn’t I give one to you?”

You shrug your shoulders.

“And just so you know, no one hated you.”

“Not even you?” you tease.

“Especially not me,” Neteyam’s voice is serious. You shy away from his gaze.

As if being unseen in the darkness is equivalent to being unheard, the two of you walk slowly, quietly. You notice how the last bit of sun sets down behind the horizon, and watch in admiration.

“I love it here,” Neteyam admits, following your gaze, “I miss home, and the sky in the forest. But there’s something about the water…”

“What is it that you like about the water?” you ask him curiously.

“I don’t know, it just makes my heart race,” he whispers, looking back at you.

“I would love to see the forest. But I think I like it already,” you whisper back, meeting his golden eyes.

There’s a moment when you think something is going to happen. You’re both terrified and impatient for him to do anything. When did he become so different? Were you just blind before?

Neteyam’s eyes jump all over your face and your hair, like he’s trying to take it in. You hope that you’re not giving away how much you think you’re growing to like him at this moment.

“Your hair looks pretty like this,” he says, reaching for one of the locks draping over your shoulders.

Your heart skips a beat when he twirls a strand of your hair, watching it curl around his long fingers.

“Very pretty,” he smiles, looking back at you.

“Tsireya talked me into it,” you smile sheepishly, as you gently pull your hair back from his grasp.

He turns his head to the side, braids swaying with him. You have to force yourself not to reach your hand to tug them.

“Well, we’re here.” It takes you a second to realize that you’re in front of your marui.

“Right,” you gulp down, “Thanks again for inviting me, it was surprisingly delightful.”

“Wait till you fly with my mother,” Neteyam chuckles, noticing your terrified face.

“Oh, sweet Eywa,” you bite your lip.

“Don’t worry, she won’t let you get hurt,” Neteyam backs away, ready to leave, “I can be there to look after you.”

“I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“Sweet dreams, Y/N.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

In a long time, since you had arrived, this is the first time you see Metkayina so overjoyed. From afar, you were all watching as their soul-sisters and soul-brothers, the Tulkuns, were returning home. The Sully’s were looking at the water mesmerized. Being foresters, they probably never even seen Tulkuns before.

You think back to your soul-sister whom you had seen many years ago. You were still a little girl back then but the memories you had with her kept your heart warm all this time. Sadness graces your face when you imagine her returning home and finding your village destroyed, with you nowhere to be found.

And although your soul-sister wasn’t among the Tulkuns, you still enjoy watching their interactions with the Metkayina clan. You swim in between them with a giddy smile, catching glimpses of silent conversations and excited exchanges, especially between the younger Na’vi. Not too far, Neteyam catches your eye. He is unlinked from his ilu, which swims around him with a delighted noise.

“Y/N, this is incredible!” he gestures.

“It is,” you agree, returning his smile.

You spend more time swimming and taking in the scenes unraveling in front of you. What’s even more entertaining is watching Neteyam and Kiri admiring the Tulkuns, and trying their best to understand what they’re saying. Of course, for foresters who had never seen Tulkuns, it was difficult to differentiate the subtle changes of tones and sounds they made. Lo’ak seems more comfortable, and you guess that it’s due to his bond with Payakan.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

That evening, the Metkayina celebrate. While there were no new attacks from the sky people in the past week, you can’t help but feel uneasy, suspecting that something worse is going to happen soon. Like this short moment of happiness is just the calm before the storm begins.

The celebration of the return of Tulkuns is similar to the one you used to have back home. The clan gathers at the beach in big and small circles, around fire. They cook and share food and drinks together, while singing and dancing to the songs of Eywa. Many wear festive patterns on their faces and bodies. It didn’t take Tsireya long to convince both Kiri and you to get your faces and arms painted with beautiful shapes and colors.

As the evening goes on, Kiri tells you that back home their celebrations were almost the same. You sense that she’s truly enjoying it, feeling the familiarity. When she is pulled into a dance, you watch her with a big smile, clapping your hands. The rest of her family looks just as happy, especially Neytiri. Almost relaxed. You feel a little jealous that you had no one to share this moment with.

With everyone distracted, you slip away to the far end of the beach to be by yourself. Feeling the warmth of the sand, you enjoy the waves washing over your feet in a calming rhythm. You watch the horizon, and spot some movement from the Tulkuns performing their own celebratory dance, as they swim around each other. Occasionally, their tails resurface and disappear under the water with big splashes.

“Why aren’t you dancing with the rest?” you hear Neteyam’s voice, as he sits down next to you.

“Why aren’t you?”

“Let’s just say that dancing is not my strongest suit,” Neteyam smiles.

“Is the mighty warrior finally admitting to being bad at something?” you tease him, “Lo’ak would be delighted when I tell him.”

“Lo’ak is a worse dancer than I am,” Neteyam laughs, pointing at his younger brother in the distance.

You look over to find Lo’ak awkwardly circling around Tsireya. It seems like he is going to fall into the fire any second now. They’re holding hands, as she tries to guide him to move his feet like her but Lo’ak seems so out of place, it makes you laugh too. It’s kind of cute, you think. He tries for Tsireya because there is no way he would ever do this in front of so many Na’vi.

“He’s a lost cause,” you shake your head at the sight.

“Anything for love,” Neteyam turns his gaze back to you with a small smile.

You almost get a deja vu of how similar this moment is to the one you shared among the trees. There is something unspoken between Neteyam and you. He holds your gaze, slowly moving closer. You gulp down nervously, when he raises his hand to your cheek. Neteyam pauses for your approval before making contact. His fingers trace a pattern of paint on your face, before he cups your cheek.

“Neteyam,” you whisper, “If anyone sees…”

If anyone sees, you will definitely gain at least several suspicious questions tomorrow morning. You can only imagine how this looks from afar, and you wonder if he wants it to look that way. Is it bad that you hope he does?

“I don’t care,” Neteyam whispers back, his face now closer to yours, “Can I ask you something, Y/N?”

You feel too nervous to talk. Instinctively you raise your fingers, wrapping them around his wrist, then nod your head. Neteyam takes a deep breath.

“Are you promised to someone?” his eyes jump all over your face, trying to read your thoughts.

“No,” your voice hitches, as you hold his gaze, “Are you?”

Neteyam softly shakes his head, one of his braids falling on his face. You find that makes him look more handsome.

“Y/N,” his voice is hypnotic, pulling you closer to him, “I know we didn’t see eye to eye when we met but now I think it’s because both of us felt something. Y/N, I -”

“Neteyam,” you interrupt him with a firm tone, “Don’t say anything.”

You avoid his gaze, lowering his hand from your face. You still keep your fingers around his wrist but you don’t dare to look at him.

“Why?” Neteyam sounds so confused, you feel an ache in your stomach, “Am I wrong? Don’t you feel it too?”

“Neteyam, this is not the time,” you sigh, avoiding his question, “I can’t. Please.”

He pulls his hand from yours, instantly putting a small distance between you. You feel like you’re going to scream. He doesn’t deserve this.

“I don’t understand,” he whispers, shaking his head.

“I can’t promise you anything, Neteyam. I don’t even know if my sister is alive. What if I go back home? What if the demons attack us tomorrow, and I die?” you start rushing through the hundreds of reasons, “I can’t risk this. Having a friend like you is more than I deserve already, ‘Teyam. I don’t want you to get stuck with me. I am not reliable like you. I will mess it up.”

“Y/N -” he looks so confused, trying to follow the line of your words, “I disagree -”

Your intimate moment is disrupted with loud noises of Roxto and Ao’nung running past you into the water. The rest of the group, with Lo’ak and Tsireya, are close on their heels with accompanying shouts. You guess they’re headed to swim with the Tulkuns before Tonowari declares an end to the celebration.

“Neteyam, come join us!” Lo’ak shouts, interrupting his brother.

“Please, let’s just pretend that everything’s back to normal. Whatever ‘normal’ means anyway,” you sigh, standing up. Neteyam’s pained eyes follow your movement, as you leave him there, sitting alone.

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

part 2

tumblr won't let me post the rest of the fic in the same post, so go to part 2. if you have any thoughts or comments and you haven't finished reading yet, i would still appreciate you sharing them with me. i'm so impatient for feedback, although i know it will take a lot of time to read this whole thing, anyways

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

taglist (also tagging some blogs that i think might enjoy it, and some of the authors, whose works i’ve been reading non-stop to keep myself motivated): @fucksnow ; @heaven1oo4 ; @fanboyluvr ; @ngayawneluoer ; @aquila-de-l-ocean ; @aoteyam ; @moonpetrichors-blog ; @vinnieswife ; @eywascall ; @lxvvvllyy ; @iloveavatar ; @neteyamdarling ; @gloryy-vs ; @girasollake ; @mayhemories ; @suuuupernovaaa ; @love-chx ; @the-demon-soul ; @cosmictheo ; @victoirey ; @your-averagewriter ; @starkeysmoon ; @openpandorabox ; @urlocalfeiner ; @neteyams-tsahik ; @angelltheninth ; @sweetsbfreex ; @forever--darling ; @arachine ; @nyctophicbtch ; @jeojake ; @isabellapaul37 ; @melbee ; @loaksky ; @luvsellie ; @loakism ; @lizziesfirstwife ; @jakesullysbabygirl ; @theseuscmander ; @love13tter

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inamindfarfaraway · 3 months

Text

I love reimagining Sofia the First episodes where Elena is inside the Amulet of Avalor from her perspective. You’re a sixteen-year-old heir to the throne trapped in a gemstone as a disembodied spirit with murdered parents, living family still in danger, a colonized country in need of liberation and untreated PTSD who nobody around you even knows exist. This has been your life for thirty-nine years by the time you finally find someone who might have the potential to free you. But first, you have to help her grow as a person. And all of these shenanigans keep happening. What was she thinking the whole time?

Sofia: (boasting to her friends about getting to sing the Enchancian anthem)

Elena: Oh my God, shut up. You sound like Esteban, and not in a good way.

Elena, a teenager and older sibling who hasn’t had the chance to tease anyone in roughly four decades: So… you’re expected to sing in front of a huge crowd tomorrow? Would be a shame. If something were to. Happen.

***

Amber: (deceives and manipulates Sofia and steals her amulet for personal gain)

Elena: You fucking brat! How dare you take advantage of your own sister’s trust after she’s been nothing but kind to you? Don’t you know how lucky you are? I would do anything to be able to just see my little sister again, talk to her, hug her, know that she’s safe and okay, let alone make her happy myself. You have so much, but you’re too spoiled rotten to appreciate it. You mistreat your family? Fine. Let’s see how you like them being threatened by an evil sorceress trying to take over your kingdom! ‘Cause trust me, it isn’t fun. Learn to be selfless or lose everything you’ve ever had! A BITCH FOR A BITCH!

***

Ivy: (takes the amulet to destroy it, which would kill Elena)

Elena: Shit.

***

Cedric: (deceives and manipulates Sofia and steals her amulet for personal gain)

Elena, who’s been onto him since day one, but feels completely unthreatened: You could be coveting any source of powerful magic, but no, you want the only one that you already know has a moral compass and will curse you for doing wrong. Genuine question: what are you doing with your life? I’m just gonna give you literal sticky fingers, and I’ll revoke that if you’re nice. You obviously don’t need much help to fail.

***

Miranda and Roland: (have sweet, bond-affirming moments with their children as good parents)

Elena: Aw, that’s nice. That’s - that’s nice. I’m fine.

***

Sofia: (is ten)

Elena: I’m so proud of Sofia. I think it’s time to enlist her to release me. Now how can I communicate that? Visions of Shuriki killing my parents and trying to kill me will get her started, right?

#GIVE US THE ELENA COMMENTARY DISNEY #‘elena reacts to sofia the first’ and her spirit in the amulet is pictured in a box at the corner of the screen #but it’s only what’s visible to her #so she doesn’t even have all the context #at the time summoning princess ivy feels very excessive #but then we meet elena and she’s absolutely hot-tempered and impulsive enough to punish a petty ten-year-old like that #sofia the first #elena of avalor #princess sofia #sofia balthazar #elena castillo flores #princess elena

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yuri-is-online · 4 months

Note

Happy Holidays! I’ve been on a bit of an angst fix lately, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to brainrot in your inbox about it.

I’ve been thinking about a scenario where Yuu just finally snaps. I mean, an entire school year of being trapped in a foreign world with no certain hope of seeing your family again, being forced to contend with (at least) 7 life-or-death scenarios, the massive egos these teenage boys have, and probably at least a little bullying from the NRC students for being magicless. I mean come on, I love our boys and all, but a lot of them are kind of awful people. There’s no way a regular person’s mental health survives that.

And maybe Yuu, tired of it all, packs up what little they have and leaves. Surely their prospects couldn’t get any worse than at NRC. Maybe Yuu tries their luck at RSA in finding someone to help them go home. Maybe Yuu just wanders until they find somewhere where they can be something. Would they even leave a letter behind explaining what happened to them, or would they just assume no one would care anyway?

I just want some more Yuu angst lol

Do you have any thoughts on this?

Happy Holidays to you too annon! Everyone is welcome to brainrot in my inbox, especially about Yuu. And I do have some ｢(ｰﾍー;) but I might be a bit nicer to the NRC boys than they deserve.

notes: they/them used for Yuu, more fleshed out fic can be found on my masterlist here. SPOILERS FOR UNRELEASED CH 7 CONTENT. CW for abandonment issues, ptsd, bullying, and just general ignorance on the part of the OB boys. Heavy on the angst, this is a mega oof tm of a post.

I want to start off by saying that, in my personal opinion based off of the in game voicelines and vignettes, that the various NRC boys do like Yuu and enjoy having them around. They think of them as the same of any other freshmen student at NRC, which is sort of the problem.

The average NRC freshmen has magic, a dormitory with a housewarden responsible for "guiding" them, and a family they can fall back on if things get rough. The average student has a basic understanding of the history of the world they live in, of it's pop culture, it's food, it's clothes, and a bunch of other things that they might not think about because of how ingrained it is in their very being. Yuu has none of those things. They don't even have a cannon club which I think is more meant to allow players to have head cannons, but since we are talking angst I have wondered if since Yuu and Grim are one student, any club Yuu wanted to join would have to take Grim as well and no one wanted to deal with that. So Grim started his own "club" and Yuu just takes pictures of birthday celebrations and events they aren't able to fully participate in for the school at Crowley's request.

Ace's first reaction to Yuu is to bully them for not having magic. Deuce admits to having done the same thing as when he was a child, and is very embarrassed by it. We don't really see Yuu getting outright bullied outside of this, but given how the faceless students reacted to Deuce being excited for Starsending, yeah I think Yuu has had to deal with some bullying. And while I do think Adeuce (and the rest of Heartslabyul really) would stick up for them, it wouldn't make it stop. If anything it just gets sneakier and Yuu, not wanting to cause any problems, does their best to cover it up. Something about keeping a stiff upper lip or a smile better suiting a hero and all that.

The overblots is a whole separate issue. We get two real apologies, one from Riddle and one from Vil, who again do not take Yuu being magicless in to much thought. They think of Yuu highly! They are a housewarden of their own little dorm! And they take such good care of Grim and the others, not to mention all those overblots you survived! Not many mages can claim that but you can! What could you possibly have to be stressed about?

As if that isn't the entire problem. As if anyone understands where Yuu is coming from. As if they even would care if they did.

They might be just as capable as any other freshmen, but when school ends, hell even when it goes on a break, they have no where to go. They were stripped from their friends, family, and especially their belongings, including money and autonomy! I have some thoughts about my own Yuu wanting to be nurse in her world, but given how much of even basic medical care seems to rely on magic in Twisted Wonderland I wonder if that would even be a career path any magicless person could take. We know a lot of them work at Styx because they don't risk blot accumulation, but even cooking is done with magic (if it can be) in Twisted Wonderland! How would you feel if you had your heart set on being a doctor, worked really hard to get good grades and took up a part time job to save for college/university only to be transported to a different world with different laws of physics completely against your will. A world where all that hard work is meaningless and you might not be able to accomplish those dreams of yours. And! AND AND! If you get upset about it, that will be seen as a weakness on your part and no one will care.

Because hey, they had to work for what they have. Why can't you? They didn't ask to be born with magic (even though they would have probably) so there is no use crying about things you can't change. Ruggie and Jamil do seem to feel a bit of sympathy to Yuu's plight, but neither of them think twice about exploiting Yuu for their own gain. Sure it might be unfair, but life is in general! It's not their fault, they aren't to blame. And that's really how all of NRC sees it, they aren't to blame for Yuu's circumstances, so they aren't owed any special treatment.

How Yuu snaps and what they do because of it would really come down to how you hc your Yuu to be. My own personal thoughts come back to personal autonomy a lot; I don't think Yuu has much of it and that would grate on me constantly. I could see Yuu hearing their friends talk about their plans for the future, and though Ace and especially Deuce try to include them in the conversation they can't add much. Ace applauds them, says "we need to take things easy! We're still freshmen..." and drones on about how he just wants to enjoy school life. And maybe Yuu does too, but they have no concrete answer about whether or not they can get home. They don't have the support system that their classmates do, so there really isn't anything waiting for them after the school year ends. Yuu feels so helpless, and they don't have the words to explain how they feel, because how could they?

If Malleus's overblot ends without any real repercussions (which I doubt it will but hey, I am like 65/35 on whether or not he apologizes to Yuu specifically for almost killing them I will be so pissed if he doesn't) I could see everyone else making fun of Malleus for loosing while Yuu just. Stares off into the distance, trying really hard not to cry in front of people they are convinced will make fun of them. This has all been scary, things like this just aren't possible in their world and they aren't mentally prepared to face death again.

And they are convinced they will. You can say overblots are rare all you like, but Yuu has practically seen one once a month ever since they arrived in this world. It is normal to them, and who should they trust? The lying headmaster or their lying eyes and ears?

If Yuu decides to run away, I think that the Ramshackle ghosts might try to stop them. Sure the headmaster sucks, but your ghost buddies really love you! And want to support you in anyway they can, so does Grim! He wants to be together for the next 100 years, and while he does really want to stay at NRC so he can be the world's greatest mage... I think he might love Yuu more. Just a tiny bit. He would play it off as him being too good for the school, or that he and Yuu are only one student after all so he will be expelled... but really he wants to come with because he will be worried about Yuu.

While going to RSA does sound nice on paper, Yuu doesn't really have a reason to go there. They aren't exactly on first name basis with any of the students we've met so far, and there is always the risk of Che'nya snitching to Riddle and Trey. Better to try and find a place where they can be something and maybe send letters to all the magical academies they can get contact information for to see if they can help. And also, to see if they will accept Grim as a full student, got to make sure he isn't sacrificing his dream for nothing!

The ghosts, realizing they can't convince Yuu not to leave decide to help. They already sell things at the markets downtown, so maybe they chat with some of their clients and convince them to let Yuu rent a room for a while. You have the option in Portfest to mention you have been to Craneport before, and I like the thought of Yuu having a part time job there. Maybe the ghosts explain that Yuu has no real family to go back to and Yuu's part time employer agrees to give them a full time job while Yuu figures out where they want to go.

Another thing related to personal autonomy, Yuu wouldn't have government documents if they just got isekaid out of the blue. I could see that being a huge issue for traveling to different countries and trying to establish a life. I also wonder if Crowley even did anything about that... but assuming he did since he (allegedly) talked to the school board about what to do with Yuu I think the ghosts would get them for Yuu on the condition they still come visit sometimes.

As for the note, I think Yuu would leave one simply because they feel like they didn't have the words to explain themselves out loud. And because they don't want to face the fight they know will come where everyone tells them to just suck it up and get on with it. These are teenage boys they are dealing with, their brains just can't fully comprehend the situation Yuu is in and they have given up expecting them to.

Just so we're clear, I think this would devastate Ace and Deuce, maybe to the point of destroying their friendship, at least for a while. Ace does think about Yuu not having magic, he wants to protect them. He says so when you level him to max, that protecting you will be easy, but clearly it wasn't. Clearly he failed you, and what does Ace do when he feels bad? He takes it out on everyone else and in this case especially Deuce. Deuce just feels stupid, which he already does a lot, but he really saw you as being around for the rest of his life. And now you aren't, and not for a happy reason like you got to go home. You aren't there because they failed you.

The others are a bit of a mixed bag I could do a separate post about but to hit the other big one...

I have no real idea how Malleus would react. I can see him thinking this means Yuu is afraid of him now, which I don't think he would react well to, but assuming this is post ob then he might be willing to take responsibility for it. It would certainly make him think, but how that thought would manifest? Outside of the obvious weather changes I do not know. I could see him being slightly resentful to his mother for cursing him to be hated by humans and loved only by fae when he so desperately wanted to be loved by one specific human. They were his first real friend, and he didn't treasure them in a way they found meaningful.

idk Yuu dropping off the grid isn't something I can see Crowley letting happen, but I can see why Yuu would want to try.

#twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst yuu #my own yuu is supposed to be a delinquent type who spent some time in residential treatment #and worked really hard to try and not be like her actual criminal parents #but feels like a lot of that work has been undermined by being transported to a world where magic makes most of her talents irrelevant #so yeah i think about yuu angst a lot #i am yuu's biggest faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan i want good things for them except when i write angst

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

aita for calling my roommate crazy?

I (28f) live with 2 other people, a former college roommate who I’m pretty close with (29f) and 2nd roommate (28nb) who we both met when we moved in together 2 years ago.

Let me start this out by saying, this isn’t a fandom aita, it’s going to sound a bit weird at first, but bear with me.

I have a medical condition (relevant later) which stopped most of my bones from maturing past puberty (growth plates closing, cartilage not hardening into bones, ect.), so my skeleton is basically stuck somewhere between 13-19, (I look about 17-19, but the last time I tried to buy hard cider, the cashier thought I was 14, so that’s how young I can look). I also have very pale skin (unrelated to my disorder, just a ginger), and (related to my disorder) lack some liver enzymes so I need eat meat or I get sick (the same reason why cats need to eat meat), I ended up in the ER when I lived with my vegan sister for a week and ate the same veggie diet as her.

Trouble is, Roommate 2 is really into conspiracy theories and other fringe stuff. Nothing alt-right or anything, just like, (for example) they fully bought into that Mermaids: the body found show, and wouldn’t be dissuaded, even when Roommate 1 googled it and showed them solid proof that it was fictional. Wholeheartedly believes the US government preformed 9/11, does alternative medicine (homeopathy, ect), wishes there were ‘all natural’ vaccines (still isn’t an anti-vaccer though, just needs to be persuaded that Bill Gates didn’t put microchips in them).

Anyway, Roommate 1 and I have a recurring joke that I’m a vampire because of the meat thing and the pale thing and the not aging thing. Roommate 2 overheard us and laughed, but weirdly. She kinda joked along with us, but she seemed...odd. About a week later, they start asking me stuff about being a vampire. But they seemed friendly and not nervous then and I was hoping they were just joking and I also sincerely thought they were just asking me about how vampires work on one of my shows (I’m a big fan of Carmilla and the Originals), so I tried to explain, but I cited each show when I’m explaining a thing. This continued for several weeks, but getting worse and more weird every time, eventually culminating about 2 and a half months later into them asking me more stuff about life as a vampire and I really realised that they were serious. Bear in mind, Roommate 1 and I were trying to be very clear that we don’t believe in vampires this whole time because we both know how Roommate 2 is about this. As a result, this was the first time I really registered that they seriously seemed to genuinely believe I was a vampire. I firmly told them that I am not a vampire and that vampires aren’t real, they’re fun to joke about, but they aren’t real. They implored me ‘to be straight with them about being a vampire,’ and that ‘I could trust them,’ and I’m ashamed to say, I kinda freaked out at this point, cuz I was afraid that they would be scared of me and maybe try to hurt me, since they seemed kinda unstable because of this.

This is where I think I was an asshole, I am usually very sensitive to mental health issues. I have some c-PTSD myself and there are a lot of mental health issues in my family (unfortunately, I think some history with my own mentally ill father may have made me react this way, since he has very similar issues to Roommate 2 (vaccines, alternate medicines, specifically involving me in his delusions) and I had a very bad experience in my early teens where he thought I was a demon and ‘sent to destroy him’). Anyway, I got very upset and I yelled at them, I told them they were completely crazy and needed to get mental help and said I thought Roommate 1 and I needed to move out because they might try to stake my heart or something. I feel really bad for calling them crazy, especially because Roommate 2 has some very mental health issues and words like crazy make light of and stigmatise that and I’m very big into not blaming people for their mental health problems, but this was very triggering and in this moment I was very distresssed.

So, aita, all things considered here? I’m still gonna feel like the asshole no matter what, since mental health problems aren’t to be taken lightly or blamed on the person, but I’m curious what the internet thinks.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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theywhowriteandknowthings · 10 months

Text

Crossfire - Pt 1 Jack Reacher (Alan Ritchson) x F/AFAB! Reader.

General Warnings: 18+, as is the whole of my blog, I will mark anything specific but be aware this is predominantly a smutty blog with plot. DNI if you are a minor. By reading further you have taken the responsibility to do so with the warnings I have given. Specific Warnings: This is pure smut with story (but it’s mostly about the smut), Size kink, teasing, mutual pining, angst, P in V unprotected (birth control and trust re STI’s(get checked up and keep your partners informed frens)), drinking, swearing, mentions of violence, mentions of war/war fighting, mentions of PTS/PTSD, trauma, military terminology, strip teasing, rough sex, size kink, (small) praise kink, feisty Reader. No mention of Y/N, Reader has nicknames, Teach/Bambi, was in the army with reacher, still doing covert stuff as a mercenary. This is a one shot, but might look at more instalments if people like it. Wordcount: 5,829

Summary: You run into Reacher after years apart. The flames that once burned inside you are ash, but the way he looks at you could start a forest fire.

Author’s Notes: I love Alan Ritchson and having watched Fast X and Reacher recently well… There’s an itch I want him to scratch.

Crossfire

The shitty inner-city bar was loud, too loud. Your ears ring as you watch the banker-bros and their dates laughing it up as they dance without rhythm to the modest-at-best live band. You worry at the label on your third beer bottle. The discarded shredded paper piling up as you try and calm your nerves.

“You doing alright there Teach?” Frankie, Frances Neagley, asks as she slides into the high stool opposite you. Her hair is pulled back in a tie, her olive drab denim tucked close against her as she twitches as people move too close to her, yet not close enough to touch her.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to call me that.” You sigh, shaking your head at the nickname that had stuck since West Point between you, Neagley, and Reacher.

“Do you prefer Bambi? We can call you that if you want?” Reacher’s deep rumble sets off a warmth in your spine you’ve tried to push from you mind for years. You swivel on your stool to take in the bull of a man that is raking his analytical blue-green eyes all over you. You mirror his analysis, taking in the new scars, harder lines on his face.

He’s aged faster than his years.

You think to yourself as you flip him the bird.

“That was one time, Teach at least has provenance.” You scoff, hating both nicknames but at least Teach was rooted in renown.

“How you holding up?” He asks you. With the way he’s looking at you, he’s clearly aware of the mercenary missions you’ve been on, even though he had been out of the force for some time. You’re unsurprised but it still bothers you how honed in on your life he always is.

“Nothing to report Sir,” You hiss, emphasising the last word to dig at him, “If you don’t mind, I’ll be on my way.” Reacher has his hooks into you, always able to press your buttons.

“Hey,” Frankie interjects, shooting Reacher a venomous glare before turning back to you, “You can leave if you want, but don’t let him be the reason, he’s not worth it.”

“I’m standing right here.” Reacher says matter-of-factly as he looks between the two of you.

“You’re kind of hard to miss,” You scoff, rolling your eyes but you look back at Frankie and relent, “Alright, Reacher, stay out of my way, I want to have a good time tonight.” You glower at him and the softest, almost imperceptible twitch at the corner of his mouth has you cursing your own stubbornness. You should never had agreed to meet, and even then the moment he turned up you should have bugged out and high-tailed it home.

“Yes Ma’am.” He says softly before stepping away and blending into the swirling mass of the crowd. You try not to allow yourself to be impressed at the ease at which he could do that, considering his bulk and height.

“You two ever actually fuck?” Frankie asks you and you almost choke on the dregs of your beer.

“No, never, fucking hell Neagley, you trying to kill me?” You splutter, well aware that you’re far too flustered. Reacher notices it too and you see the vein on his neck pop as he stifles a triumphant smile.

“You should have, would’ve made things easier.” She shrugs as she takes another swig of her beer.

“That’s rich coming from you.” You needle back, knowing well that your relationship was tight knit enough to make that joke.

“Fair, but you’re a slutty little bisexual, either fuck him and get it over and done with or get over yourself.” Frankie says with a twitch of her lips. She has you there. The only thing that ever stopped you from fucking Reacher was your own ego.

“Fuck you.” You grumble as you gesture between your empty drinks before asking the obvious, “You want another?”

“As long as you’re buying.” Frankie says with a dazzling smile.

“Always, be back in a flash.” You say with a smirk. You love Frankie, you’d even, sort-of kind-of, dated for a while when you left the service, but Frankie being such a haptephobiac scuppered things for you both. You loved each other dearly but you’re a tactile, sexual person, and having to supress your own instincts wasn’t healthy for either of you. But it didn’t stop you loving one another, and that was something neither of you denied, you just expressed it differently, and that was ok.

You make your way to the bar, waiting patiently as the other, dressed up women got served before you. You’d grown used to it, you never dressed up, not for weddings, not for funerals, not for anyone. It had it’s perks, but in a bar, it meant you were served when you were served. You drum your fingers on the edge of the bar after a while, slowly getting tired of waiting.

“Hey,” Reacher’s low rumble makes you shiver as his large form cages you in. His navy shirt sleeves are rolled up to his elbows as you see the firm, thick cords of his forearms hem you in as his large hands rest on the bar, “How’s Civvy life treating you?” He breathes into the shell of your ear as you shudder beneath him.

“Shit, I can’t be as lucky as you and land myself in the middle of murder investigations and big ol’ conspiracies like you J.” You say, using the nickname you know he hates.

“It cost me a brother, so I don’t know if you can call that luck.” He growls against your skin as he inches forward slowly. You feel the brush of his fucking marbled pecs against your shoulders as he tries to draw you in. This was a dance you had both done many times, riling the other up, pushing the limits to breaking point. But there was always an angle, exploiting each other’s vulnerabilities to get what you wanted, or needed.

It’s the toxic part of your relationship with Reacher you never allow yourself to admit to, but it’s also the only thrill you get anymore. Years of the brass putting warfighting over warfighters meant you were numb to just about any stimulus. Except Reacher.

“Fair,” You nod, trying to keep your mind clear as your whole body screams to push back against Reacher, goad him on so he can finally give you what you’ve craved for over a decade, “But we both know you’re not here for sentimentality and feelings.” You breathe, trying so damned hard not to grind back against him.

He wants something, whatever this is will cost you.

“Correct.” He grumbles before a hand falls from the bar, resting against your hip instead, “Tell me to stop, tell me you don’t want this and I’ll walk away.” He pants against the clammy skin of your neck as you try to wrestle control from the primal part of your brain that would let him rail you right now, against the bar in front of everyone.

“Why now?” You ask, the logical part of your brain interrupting at just the wrong time, you want to take it back, let Jack play his game, maybe let him win for once, then let him fuck you into oblivion but that simple question shatters the illusion.

“Never mind, have a good night, see you ‘round Teach.” Reacher’s tone is clipped as he detaches from you with surgical precision. His body melds back into the crowd instantly as he flees from you retreating back to reality once more.

The bartender finally reaches you and you order your drinks, skulking back to find Frankie gone too. You check your phone and see that she’s bailed. You sit for a while, not touching the drinks for some time, trying to reconcile the night in your mind.

You down your beer and leave Frankie’s drink on the table before ordering an uber. You wait outside and almost scoff at the fact it took you less than a minute to realise Reacher was tailing you. He’s good, but so are you. You spend your nights checking for every sniper position, any potential ambush site. PTS, having the audacity to exist as a woman in the army, and pre-existing anxiety meant you were always hypervigilant.

You head back to your apartment, abandoning the Uber plan as you nip down dark alleyways. Every time he’s there. Sometimes a step ahead, often two or three behind as you watch him grunt in frustration from a rooftop as he reaches a dead end you guided him into.

You flop down on your shitty little sofa as the water still beads at your skin from the shower. You know he’s here, already inside your apartment. The tape you leave over the seams of your sash windows peeled back and replaced almost perfectly, but the room felt off, so when you prodded the adhesive tape it had flaked back without resistance. You had checked the bathroom first, wanting to shower uninterrupted, but you left the door ajar, just enough that if he wanted to, Reacher could see your naked form as you washed vigorously in your wet room.

You look around the studio apartment, the bare wood floors and deep red brick walls helped keep your anxiety in check, dirt shows less, stains easier to cover up. There is so little in the sparse room you’re starting to wonder if you were being paranoid. Then you hear the shift from the mezzanine bedroom. You gaze moves to look up through the balcony, eyes shifting along the dimly lit platform.

“You want a beer Jack?” You ask at the space under the bed you couldn’t see from here, position he was most likely in and you hear the soft grunt at the use of his first name. There’s a pause, where you can almost hear the gears turning in his head as he decides it’s worth staying hidden for any longer.

“Fine.” He huffs as he rolls out from under your bed, exactly where you thought he’d be. Your bed is one of the few places anyone could hide in your apartment and you kept it that way for a reason. You pad over to the kitchen and grab a pair of import beers from the fridge, taking your time, hoping your loose linen shorts and thin tank top would entice Reacher to crowd you from behind again. But you’re left hanging as you hear the creak of your dilapidated groan under Reacher’s weight.

“So, what do you want?” You ask, nudging thew fridge door shut with your hip before you saunter over to sit on the coffee table, Reacher, even if he wasn’t currently sprawled across the whole length, would have taken up too much space for you to be comfortable.

“You.” Reacher says without pause, his sea glass blue eyes raking over the ample amounts of bare skin you have on show. You pop open the bottles with the end of the lighter on the coffee table next to your ashtray full of burnt-out joints, as you lazily take in the way Reacher’s tight jeans hug his strong thighs. The way his biceps strain against the rolled up sleeves of his dress shirt has heat flooding straight to your core.

“Denied, anything else I can do for you?” You ask as you hand him the beer, his large fingers brush against yours and you have to battle with your self-control to pull away. Your skin is on fire, your heart in your throat as you feel the pressure of over ten years of pent up desire blotting out the rational part of your mind.

“Can I crash here?” He asks before taking a long swig of beer, you watch shamelessly at the way his throat muscles contract and flex as he swallows.

“Nope.” You breathe, your walls already crumbling as you actually consider saying yes.

“What’s up your ass Teach?” Reacher groans, his eyes hard as he sets the beer down on the table before shifting up into a sitting position, his knees brush yours and you feel yourself clench around nothing. The friction of his jeans against your bare skin, the intensity if his look, his hard stare, all of it riles you up and you have to force yourself to think straight.

“Just getting tired of whatever this is.” You gesture between your chest and his, the truth of your words biting as you steel yourself. You don’t want to fuck this up, you’re in the right place for the first time ever to actually let him in, but you can’t shake the decades of cold hard walls you had festooned around you.

“Understood, see you around,” And he says your name, soft, tender, vulnerable against his stoic, harder than titanium, façade he puts up for everyone. Everyone but you.

Reacher makes it two long strides, which was more like four of your own, before you grab him from behind, wrapping him in a bear hug as you anchor yourself to him. You notice the twitch of involuntary movement as your unexpected contact triggers his fight reflex. But he stills immediately, hands balled at his sides. You press your face into the span between his shoulder blades, inhaling the familiar cotton-fresh, pressed linen and neutral soap smell that you always associated with Reacher. No perfumed frills, as always he was utilitarian, clean, safe.

“Stay.” You whisper into his shirt trying not to sound as needy as you felt, but it’s painfully clear how much you needed this, you can’t hide it from yourself, and you certainly could never hide your feelings from Reacher, no matter how hard you both tried to ignore them.

God he’s warm.

“‘Sure? Seemed pretty clear you wanted me gone.” Reacher says as he places his strong hands on your forearms, as if to move them, but the moment his fingers brush your skin you feel the flash of desire in your chest, striking down your spine like lightning. The hitch in Reacher’s breath tells you he feels it too.

“Look at me.” You order, and without hesitation he turns in your arms, his hands sliding up to touch the bare skin of your biceps. The friction is maddening as you try to suppress the urge to jump him, to wrap your legs around his torso and fuse your lips to his.

“What?” Reacher says with a grunt, his jaw is tight with tension, eyes burning with desire in the low light of your apartment. His thumbs brush the skin of your biceps as he runs his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Kiss me.” You breathe, all thought, every ounce of bravado and cold, self-imposed emotional exile thrown to the wind. He hesitates for a split second before he claims your mouth with his own. It’s slow, cautious at first, barely a brush of skin on skin but that’s all it takes. It’s like kerosene poured on a bonfire, explosive, pressured, and unbearably hot. Nothing can stop this blaze now, and you were past being worried about getting burned.

Jack cups his right hand around the back of your neck, cradling it perfectly in his large hand as the other falls to your hip, pulling you against him, fisting the flimsy linen shorts in his hand as he groans down into you. His tongue presses against the seam of your mouth and you open willingly, moaning as his thick, hot tongue dominates you.

“Bed.” You mumble against his lips, pulling away to look up into his lust blown eyes, then you see a flash of mischief in his eyes. Before you can challenge him you’re being thrown over his shoulder. You yelp, embarrassment flooding you as you hear it, cursing yourself for getting caught off guard. Reacher chuckles, charging up the stairs two at a time before practically throwing you on the bed. You bounce lightly against the paisley blue sheets and glare at him, trying to muster every ounce of venom built up over the years for this man. But all you can manage is a pout, which only makes Reacher smirk triumphantly down at you from the foot of the bed.

“Clothes. Off.” Reacher growls the order and a flash of defiance makes you bold. You shift onto your knees and cross your arms, staring up at him with an eyebrow cocked in challenge.

“Make me.” You respond with a scoff, you might have obliged if he had asked nicely, maybe.

“Brat.” Reacher growls before slipping off his watch, kicking off his boots, and taking off his belt. You flush a little as you realise he’s removing anything damaging, sharp, or otherwise uncomfortable. They fall into a pile to his right before he looks you up and down, analytical as always as he prepares to strike.

You expect him to lunge at you, go in for the kill shot and use his brute strength to make you submit but that’s never been the game between you two. It’s always been about the chase, the delayed gratification, the thrill of drawing it out. The bed shifts dramatically as he lowers himself onto his knees.

Fuck, he’s big.

You think to yourself as he kneels, thighs spread as he towers over you. You shuffle back, feet brushing against the pillows as he slowly inches closer. His large hands fall to the buttons of his shirt, slowly popping them open one by one. Each painfully slow motion reveals more and more of his muscular form. Sure, you’d seen Reacher naked before, hell you think you’ve seen him in every state of undress, including when you had to fish out a stray bullet and patch him up in Moldova. But this was different. This was for you.

“Trade?” Reacher says as he reaches the bottom button, his navy shirt hanging off his shoulders, exposing the scarred, rippling torso you knew so well. You could map every scar on his body, or so you thought, new, fresh, still-pink lines and indentations on his skin made you shudder.

“Trade for what Jack?” You say, trying to get under his skin as much as he had already gotten under yours.

“My shirt for yours?” He asks, eyebrow raised in challenge. You know if you refuse you’ve lost, but you don’t want to give him the satisfaction of getting you naked too quickly.

“Your shirt for one article of clothing of my choosing?” You barter and he cocks his head quizzically but nods slowly. You smirk and slip down the straps of your sports bra before unclasping it and throwing it away. It was the same colour as your tank top so it hadn’t been obvious it was there until your breasts spill out against the tight fabric of your tank top. Reacher’s eyes go glassy as you see his position shift on the bed, even in the low tungsten lighting you could see the bulge in his dark jeans.

“Impressive.” He breathes, you aren’t sure if he meant your trade, or your breasts, but it didn’t matter. The praise had you open mouthed and trying not to squirm as he inches closer, shouldering off the shirt. He goes to throw it on the floor but you snatch it from his hand, quickly pulling it over your shoulders. It swamps you and you bury your nose into the collar to inhale the crisp, clean smell of Reacher before looking back up through your eyelashes at him. His hand trembles as he swipes it back through the short hair on top of his head.

“What next?” You purr, taking in the broad expanse of his shoulders, his thick neck, and the soft yet defined muscles of his chest and abs. Reacher wordlessly pulls down his zipper, slowly shifting his jeans down over his thighs, letting them pool at his knees as he watches you like a hawk. You exhale aggressively through your nose as you see the dark patch of pre-come on his grey boxers, his cock straining against the tight fabric. You knew he had a big dick, but seeing it erect, erect for you has you pushing your thighs together as your cunt aches to be touched.

He stays like that for a few more agonising seconds and you’re almost at breaking point, about to relent and strip bare for him to take you right there when he finally hooks his thumbs under the waistband of his jeans and manages to take them off in a graceful motion, without moving from his knees.

You don’t wait for the next instruction, you had a plan, you mimic his actions in removing your shorts, pooling them at your knees to reveal the white cotton panties that hugged your mound. They were slick with your own arousal, making them cling to you in a way that made you ache further.

“Fuck.” Reacher hisses as he wipes one large hand over his face, sweat beading on his brow as his eyes roam your body, of course he notices the way your panties cling to you, the way your mouth is parted and eyes blown out with desire. He notices the peaks of your nipples painfully hard and pebbled under the thin fabric of the tank top.

“Looks like you’ve only got one piece left to trade Reacher, going to have to pick what I take off next.” You breathe as you bite on your lip, your eyes piercing his as you notice his Adam’s apple bob violently as he swallows hard.

“Me first.” He rasps, thumbs sliding beneath the waistband of his boxers, revealing a smattering of light brown curls as he lowers his underwear slowly, letting his cock spring free with a bounce. You exhale through your nose to try and alleviate the desire building at the base of your spine but you can’t help the whine that accompanies it. He’s larger than you remember and, but then again you’d never seen him hard, and the pearlescent bead of pre-come leaking from his thick, ruddy tip had your hands balling into fists at your side. You notice the slight upwards curve of it and try not to think about how it was going to feel tight inside you.

He watches you with a smug grin, clearly feeling like he had already won but you look away from his beautiful cock and back up into his hungry eyes.

“What next?” You ask, voice pathetic and breathy but you weren’t ready to buckle yet. Reacher swiftly takes off his boxers before shuffling closer, looking between your cotton panties and your peaked nipples as they strain against the fabric.

“Top.” He murmurs, he’s so close now you can smell the perspiration over the usual freshness of Reacher and it does nothing but increase the ache between your thighs. You had hoped he’d say that, you don’t waste your time now, shrugging off his shirt before, peeling the material over your head with a huff as you lose your vision for a split second. The bed shifts beneath you and when you pull the tank top over your head you see him, towering over you, knees almost touching as he tilts his head down at you with a wide smile on his face.

He says nothing but slowly leans forward, his chest millimetres from your face as he reaches behind you to pull his shirt back over your shoulders. You shudder as his fingers brush the bare skin of your shoulders before looking up into his blue-green eyes as you see the strain in his neck muscles as he tries to hold back.

“Looks like you lost Reacher, I’ve still got my panties on.” You breathe as he rocks back down onto his knees, his fingertips trailing down from your shoulders before he reaches your pebbled nipples. He brushes his knuckles against the sensitive buds and you arch forward at the touch, the pleasure blinding as his rough skin scrapes blissfully against them.

“Who said getting naked was the goal?” He asks, his hands trailing down to your thighs, gripping the flesh of your ass in his hands as he leans down into you, his strong nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just short of your own.

“Then what?” You breathe, your right hand rests atop his on your ass, you trail your middle and index fingers down from the hollow of his neck, following the valley of his sternum and tight stomach before ghosting along the patch of curls just above his shaft.

“I think you know.” He breathes, pressing his forehead against your own as he wrestles internally for control.

“Hmmm, think I need you to spell it out for me Reacher.” You counter, removing your hand from his torso to slide it up your thigh instead, tracking slowly up to the seam of your panties where they curve over your mound.

“Fuck.” He grunts but clearly not giving in so easily. You smile and push up on your knees, forcing his hands up as you unfold your legs, flopping back against the pillows under him as you cant your hips up towards him. His hands shift up from your thighs as you move, pinning you down by your hips as he moans above you. You hook your ankles over his calves and look up into his dark eyes with your best bedroom eyes, batting your eyelids as you pull your right hand up to your mouth, pulling your panties to the side with your left. The air hits your soaked pussy and you shudder at the sensation. Reacher’s eyes don’t leave yours, not daring to look down.

“Teach.” Reacher growls in warning but that only spurs you on more. You push your two fingers into your mouth slowly, all the way to the knuckle, hollowing your cheeks out as you suck hungrily on your own digits. He watches you, entranced as you pull them back out, saliva glistening between the digits as you lower them to your clit. Reacher says nothing as he follows them down, he’s practically vibrating with tension now.

You slide your fingers through your drenched folds, whimpering at the sensation as you gather your arousal over your fingers, you bring them back up to your lips but before they get there Reacher snatches your wrist in his hand. Without pause he pulls them into his mouth and groans around your fingers as he laves his tongue between them, savouring your slick like a man starved. Your fingers leave his mouth with a pop and he breathes your name as he cups your cheek with one hand, the other tight on your hip, you were sure it was going to bruise but you didn’t care. He repeats your name again through ragged breaths.

“I give in, can I please fuck you?” He asks and triumph takes a backseat in your mind as you feel the heat rush through your veins.

“Yes.” You breathe against his lips and he presses his tongue into your pliable mouth. You can taste yourself on him and you moan as the hand on your hip pulls you flush against him as he devours you. His length grinds against your slit, rubbing blissfully at your clit as you buck up into him. You want his cock so bad, you wriggle and whimper against him as he continues to lick into your mouth with fervour.

“Need another taste.” He mumbles as he pulls back, dropping onto his elbows as he wastes no time pressing his thick tongue deep into your desperate little hole. You cry out and buck up into it as he laps up your arousal. He shifts up to your clit, swiftly replacing his tongue with two of his large fingers. You cry out as the stretch burns but it’s soon assuaged by the way he sucked on your clit, flicking his tongue in rapid, punishing circles as he fucks you with his strong fingers, his knuckles rutting against your core as you feel the burning heat of your orgasm building. He laps greedily against your clit as he picks up the pace thrusting into your cunt with his fingers.

It’s blinding, like a supernova spreading from the base of your spine, blowing through your cunt and splintering at your toes as you convulse around his digits. You quake as he continues to piston in and out of you as you ride through your orgasm. He watches your face twist and contort, occasionally flicking his tongue against your clit to elicit another shudder from you.

“Jack.” You plead, cupping his jaw as you gently push him away.

“Sorry, ‘just looked too good, twitchin’ f’me.” He babbles, your slick coating his hard jaw as he looks down at you with reverence. You pant up at him but you’re still not truly sated, you want more, so much more. You reach down to his cock and grip him tightly at the base, Reacher’s eyes go wide and he smiles down wickedly at you.

“You sure?” He asks, placing a soft kiss to the corner of your mouth, teasing his tongue against the skin there.

“Please.” You beg, you need to feel him, need him to split you open. Reacher groans softly and nestles down between your legs, one hand on his cock, the other holding you steady by your hip. He swipes his head through your folds before pausing in realisation.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks, voice strained as he tries to be good, to do the right thing.

“Reacher I’ve not had sex in months, I’ve had clean bills of health since, and I’m on the pill, unless you’re packing an STI,” You look up at him this time with a face of judgement, “Which I will be pissed we’ve gotten this far and you haven’t said anything,” You add and he grins down at you incredulously, “I’m down if you are.” You say, looking between where his thick head is already stretching your entrance and his handsome face.

“Hundred percent sure?” He asks once more, twitching as he tries to restrain himself.

“Reacher, just fuck me already.” You growl. Reacher obeys and presses his tip inside, the stretch so much more intense than his fingers but you’re already so wet it’s no more than a pleasant burn.

“Fuck, so tight.” He breathes, easing further in as you buck up into him, your legs wrapping around his waist, ankles crossed to pull against his lower back. He groans as he finally lets go, thrusting deep into you as you cry out in bliss. He fills you so tightly it’s overwhelming, you squirm under him as he brings a hand down to swipe his thumb against your clit.

“Fuckin’ Beautiful.” He growls as he starts a steady pace, his balls slapping gently against your ass each time as he bottoms out. Your nails dig into his shoulders as he fucks down into you, spurring him on his thick cock rakes against your fluttering walls as every thrust threatens to unravel you.

“Reacher, fuck.” You groan as his tip hits your g-spot, making you writhe and clench, your right hand falls from his shoulder as you drop it down to swat his hand out of the way. You circle your clit with two fingers, matching his pace with ease fro this angle. He growls at the sight of you touching yourself as he fucks into you harder now, both hands on your hips as his rhythm falters.

“Can I-?” Reacher begins to ask but you cut him off, scraping angry red marks down his chest.

“Come inside me.” You command and that, combined with the sensation of your nails biting into his skin has Reacher stuttering his hips against you as he paints your walls with his spend. You come seconds later, pulsating around his cock as he fucks you through your orgasm, not slowing until you’re fully spent.

He rolls off you, almost falling off the modest double bed, only for you to catch his arm as you move over to give him some room. His cum is leaking out of you but you don’t care, sheets can be washed, or burned, but this moment with Reacher is precious.

“You ok there Teach?” He asks breathlessly as he turns to face you, pulling you against his chest, looping his strong thigh over yours caging you in against him.

“Seriously? Did you not hear me? Ok would be an insult to you.” You say with a laugh, prodding his sternum lightly with your finger.

“Fair point.” He says as he runs his fingers up ad down your body, tracing every curve, every scar, noting the places where you shudder. You place soft kisses to his chest, dragging your nails of your free hand up and down his back. It’s the most tender moment you’ve ever had, with anyone and the fact it was Reacher who was giving it to you was bizarre but you don’t care. After a while you feel yourself drifting off, but you know you need to wash up, even if you had only just showered.

“Reacher, gotta pee, c’mon.” You grumble against his skin and he sighs.

“I know.” He says softly as he places a kiss to the top of your head, but neither of you move, both terrified that if you let go it will shatter the illusion, the perfect moment neither of you wanted to lose.

“Reacher?” You whisper, anxiety bubbling in your throat as you prepare to ask the question that almost ruined it earlier.

“Hmm?” He responds sleepily, it he props himself up on his elbow and blinks the sleep away as he hears the concern in your voice.

“Why now?” You ask softly, trying to maintain eye contact, not wanting to shy away from this.

“Because,” He says softly, cupping your left cheek as he looks at you in earnest, “I’ve lost a lot of people I love, and I’m tired of pushing the people I love away, because I’d rather live and lose than never live at all.” He says and you can’t help but stifle a giggle.

“Did you just paraphrase Shakespeare at me?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“It’s Tennyson, actually.” He grunts but the smile doesn’t leave his lips. You roll your eyes, he always was more into poetry than you.

“Do you want to crash here?” You ask softly leaning up to meet his lips, the kiss is soft, passionate, yet not the same as the hunger from before.

“Thought you’d never ask, c’mon let’s get cleaned up, I’m exhausted.” He mutters against your lips before hoisting you up into his arms, swinging his legs over the bed before carrying you to the bathroom. You grumble something about manhandling being degrading but he just laughs, because he knows deep down you like it. And you do too.

“Nobody knows it, but you’ve got a secret smile, and you use it only for me.” - Semisonic (Was listening to this while about mid-way through this and I just thought it was appropriate. Let me know what you think! I really liked writing this and would love some more Reacher stuff as it's pretty sparse as far as I can see? As always, likes and reblogs and comments are SO appreciated.

#Reacher #jack reacher x you #jack reacher smut #jack reacher #jack reacher x f!reader #alan ritchson #fanfic #fanfiction #jack reacher fanfiction #jack reacher fanfic #jack reacher x female reader #Frances Neagley is sneaky #vi writes #viwrites #viwritessmut #smut

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traveler-at-heart · 4 months

Text

Finding Home - Part 2

Summary: This is a series imagining what it was life for Natasha after joining S.H.I.E.L.D. Warnings: Mentions of violence, PTSD, nightmares. Read Part 1 here. It was still dark. A quick glance at the clock on your nightstand told you it was indeed 2:30 am.

With a groan, you stood up from bed, walking into the living room, the penthouse pitch black.

“Jesus, Natasha!” you jumped as the lights revealed her sitting on the couch. Staring at the door. The redhead didn’t even flinch when you shouted. “Hey, is everything ok? Did you hear something?”

Now you felt bad for snapping at her like that. Surely, she had a good reason to be up.

“I don’t understand why they’re not here”

“Who?” you kneeled next to her, so you were eye level. With a pang of guilt, you noticed the bags under her eyes.

How long had this been going on?

“The KGB and Dreykov’s people. It’s only a matter of time. And when they come, I don’t… they can’t hurt you. I wouldn’t forgive myself”

“Nat” you said, squeezing her hand until she finally looked at you. Your hair was a mess, and your eyes struggled to focus on her face, but still, you pushed the words out.

“We are protecting you. SHIELD has eyes and ears everywhere. They won’t come for you, they won’t hurt you. Clint won’t let it happen, Fury won’t let it happen. And I certainly won’t let it happen”

There was a beat of silence, and then Natasha shook her head no.

“I’m not worth the risk”

“Yes you are. Clint thought so when he didn’t shoot that arrow. And I think so too. You’re worth it, and that’s not up for debate”

With a resigned sigh, you sat on the loveseat next to the couch and stared at the door.

“What are you doing?” Natasha asked.

“Well, if we’re taking turns watching the door, I’m next”

“Don’t be ridiculous, go to sleep”

The commanding tone made you smile. Slowly, but surely, Natasha had become more open and more herself in the way she interacted with others.

She wasn’t afraid to show she knew better than all of you.

“You go to sleep, Romanoff”

The redhead rolled her eyes, annnoyed at how amused you looked and then turned on the tv, browsing through channels, until she settled on a documentary about chimpanzees.

Fifteen minutes later, she was sleeping, gently snoring.

—

Back at the headquarters, Natasha was showing Maria and Fury some of the technical details of the widow bites she used.

You took the opportunity to pay a visit to Doctor Taylor.

“Agent” she greeted. “You know the rules, you gotta make an appointment”

“It won’t take long, Doc. It’s about Natasha” you scratched the back of your neck, feeling like you were snitching on her. “She’s not sleeping well. Keeps thinking the KGB is showing up any minute now to take her back”

“I would be surprised if she was able to sleep at all. I can prescribe something…”

“Yeah, she’s not gonna take it. Don’t ask me how, I just know it” you shrugged your shoulders. “This is more of a visit to ask for sugggestions. Is there any activity that might distract her?”

“Well, has she even been outside the Penthouse?” the woman asked, glancing at her notes, obviously aware of the answer to the question.

“No, unless we count this lovely government building” you looked down, feeling ashamed. Idiot. Keeping Natasha locked up, of course she’d feel agitated.

Doctor Taylor said your name, your attention snapping back to her.

“Natasha doesn’t know who she is; she dind’t have a childhood or a life. You could… give her choices. Help her figure out what she likes”

“Like her favorite ice cream flavor?”

“Sure, that’s simple. Start there”

“Alright” you straightened your stance, thinking about the day ahead. “Thanks, Doc”

“For what is worth” she said as you turned to open the door. “Natasha’s making progress. Slow but steady. And that’s thanks to you as well”

You nodded, smiling before leaving her office.

—

“It’s this way” Natasha pointed at a street, and you kept driving. “You missed the next exit”

“So now you know how to drive in New York City?” you said, ignoring her comments.

“Yes. I can drive motorcycles, cars, all kinds of helicopters…”

“Cool, congrats. You’re still not driving this car”

“Ass” she mumbled and you chuckled.

The drive was silent and as you found a place to park, Natasha looked around trying to find your destination.

“Ta-da” you sang and she turned back to you.

“Holey cream?” she read the sign above the door, in a very unamused tone.

“Build-your-own donut ice cream sandwich. Doesn’t that sound fun? There are tons of choices. Come on” you looped her arm with yours and practically dragged her inside.

You ordered first, hoping it would give Natasha enough time to decide what she wanted. However, as you got your donut, she was still staring at the ice cream flavors and toppings.

“Have you decided yet?” as she shook her head no, you offered your own donut. “Come on, try it. It’s homemade chocolate peanut better”

Rolling her eyes, she finally agreed and took a bite, modestly covering her mouth as she chewed.

“Too sweet. I think I’ll have the Java Guatemala”

“Holy holey” you muttered, thinking about the amount of caffeine she’d eat. “Strong flavor for a strong woman, am I right?”

“Is the sugar making you hyper?”

“Maybe” you opened the door for her, walking side by side as you took bites of your donuts.

You kept walking, glancing at the restaurants and shops littered on both sides of the street. As you read the menu of an Indian place, Natasha looked at the window of a clothing store.

“Oh, that leather jacket is beautiful” you admired, following her eyes. “Wanna go inside and try it on?”

“No”

“Come on” you ignored, pushing her.

The store clerk greeted you, while Natasha stood awkardly next to the jacket.

“Try it on” she rolled her eyes, but did as she was told. It looked perfect on her, but then again, Natasha managed to look stunning even on training clothes. “It suits you. Do you like it?”

“It’s fine” she shrugged her shoulders, the same way she did when you cooked something that she didn’t really like. As if what she thought wasn’t important.

“Natasha” you said and the woman looked at you. You raised your eyebrows and smiled, encouraging her to say what she really wanted.

“Yes, I like it a lot. But I don’t have any mo…”

“Miss? We’re taking this jacket”

Busy with paying the woman, you missed the way Natasha pulled the jacket close to her body, smiling as she saw her reflection in the mirror.

—

“Article 212, subsection B” Natasha asked.

It was a lovely day, so you were enyoing the sun on Central Park. She insisted on studying for her test, which was honestly overdoing it. Natasha memorized Shields rules in a week.

She was siting, the manual on her lap, while you were laying, your head close to her knees.

“Uh… something, something, paperwork” you answered, getting lost in the warm sun and the blanket where you and Natasha rested. “Are we still catching that movie later today?”

“Yes. And don’t change the subject” she gave you a small tap on the forehead and you frowned.

“Natasha, you memorized it weeks ago. And I already passed my test so…”

“I like it when I can hear you say it” Natasha interrupted you, her voice getting smaller. “I know all the words, yes. But hearing you say it makes it make sense. And I can also learn more about pronunciation. I still have my stupid accent”

“Ok” you nodded, sitting up to face her. You shook the leaves that got stuck in your hair and answered the question.

Natasha nodded when she was satisfied, flipping through the pages to continue.

“And for the record, your accent is not stupid. It’s cute” you said.

You were too busy looking away to hide your blush, so you missed how Natasha’s cheeks were red as well.

—

After that day in the park, you saved a time after dinner to read to Natasha. It was a way for her to improve what you already thought was a perfect English.

“A Scandal in Bohemia. Your very first Sherlock Holmes. Aren’t you excited?”

“Why that one?” she looked up at you. As usual, you were sitting at the end of the couch while she laid her head close to your lap, but never touching your knees.

“Because, you’re just like Irene Adler”

“Who?”

“Well, let me read and you’ll find out”

With every story about mystery, Natasha always commented on how the detectives approcahed the case. But this time, she remained quiet as you read the tale of Holmes and the only woman who outsmarted him.

Once you finished, you looked down to find Natasha sleeping, her usual frown replaced by a soft expression. The image of her head resting under her clasped hands brought you back to the words on the Red Room report.

The girls slept handcuffed to their beds so they wouldn’t escape.

If Dreykov wasn’t already dead, you’d gladly kill him yourself.

On impulse, your hand reached out to touch her own, while the other moved a strand of red hair out of her forehead.

What happened next was completely unexpected.

Natasha woke up instantly, throwing you from the couch and you landed on your front, out of air from the force of her movements. The woman climbed to your back and placed your neck in a headlock.

“Fuck, fuck, Nat, it’s ok. I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I didn’t think, I’m sorry. It’s me. You’re safe” you said, trying to control your breathing and keeping your voice even.

You could feel Natasha’s heart beating wildly, her breath ragged against your ear.

It wasn’t her and she wasn’t trying to hurt you, that’s all you could think about as she kept you in place, with just enough pressure to make sure you didn’t move.

Little by little, she began to calm down and all of the sudden, let you go.

You coughed and moved forward, allowing yourself to breathe and feel a tiny bit of panic at what could have happened.

Not to you, but to Natasha.

“I’m…” she looked at her shaking hands, tears welling up. Natasha got up and walked to her room, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Nat. It’s ok. Natasha” you knocked several times, to no avail.

She stayed in her room for the rest of the night.

—

The following days were hell.

You went back to training alone. Natasha barely ate, let alone look at you whenever you had to go to SHIELD.

How could you have been so reckless? Of course she’d react that way, living her life in a perpetual state of fight or flight.

The silence took a toll on you. And worse, one day it made you snap.

During the drive to SHIELD, you asked Natasha if she was up for watching a movie at the cinema.

There was no answer, which was to be expected.

The hurt came after, when you caught her chatting with Clint as if everything was ok. Feeling as if someone had punched you in the gut, you looked away.

Maybe everything would be better if you left Natasha alone.

You walked up to them and dropped the keys to the car on the table.

“Here. Take the car”

“But, I thought…”

“I’m walking” was all you answered, turning around to leave the building.

You felt a combination of guilt and anger. You hated how you snapped at her, how your response to her trauma was to be vindictive and unreasonable.

But you also felt tired and way over your head. It wasn’t like you’d been an agent for that long.

Maybe someone more experienced would do better, like Barton.

You found a bar and stayed there for a couple of hours, drinking on an empty stomach. You came back when it was too cold to wander around the city.

The alcohol had hit you harder than you thought, because when you opened your eyes it was noon.

Natasha was long gone by then.

The sight of pancakes on the stove and a note with your name made you want to cry.

You didn’t even know what you were doing at SHIELD headquarters that morning, but still stepped out of the cab and into the building.

“Agent Y/N” Fury said as you walked down the hallway.

It was the last voice you wanted to hear, sporting a massive hangover and a guilt ridden heart.

“Director Fury” you turned around, trying to sound composed.

“There’s a mission”

Missions were at the bottom of your list right now.

“Ask Maria” you snapped.

You fucked up.

“I’m not asking”

“I can’t leave Natasha now”

“She’s joining the mission”

“I don’t think she’s ready” you panicked, imagining her getting hurt over your mistakes.

“It’s been three months. I have to know if she’s at least worth the groceries we’re buying for you in that fancy penthouse in the Upper East Side, Agent” the door behind your back opened. Fury looked at you one last time and then nodded. “That would be all”

As you turned around, Natasha’s eyes met yours.

“I didn’t know if I should wake you…”

“It’s ok. I’m sorry, I slept in. Thanks for the pancakes. I’ll go back to the penthouse… I don’t know why I came here today”

“Ok. I have to stay and go over some stuff” she explained and you nodded.

“See you later”

Back home (it wasn’t really home, was it?), you headed straight for the gym. Correction, bathroom, to throw up, still hungover and then to the gym.

Natasha joined you an hour later, waiting for you to finish punching out your frustrations against a boxing bag.

“I’m sorry” she said, after a particularly hard punch that made you grunt. “I understand if you asked Fury to leave”

“Leave… what?” you turned to her, confused. “And why are you saying you’re sorry?”

“You know why” she said, looking down.

“That wasn’t your fault. None of this is your fault, Natasha. I should have known better. I should have protected you. You should feel safe and I’m failing”

“You didn’t fail” she insisted. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I have. All my life, I’ve hurt and killed. But you know all that, you know it and you’re still not mad. Why aren’t you mad? Why don’t you think I’m a monster?” she said, looking anywhere but you.

“Did you have a choice?” you asked softly. She didn’t reply. “All I know is, the first time someone gave you a choice, you did the right thing”

“And I still hurt people”

“Yeah, our line of work isn’t really black and white, Natasha” you felt relieved when she finally looked at you, though her eyes were reddened. “If you had a choice now, what would you say? ”

“I think… I’d like to help people”

You smiled, not surprised by her answer. Of course she’d want to help. How you wished Natasha could see herself in the way you saw her.

“Good. Because Fury is eager to send us on a mission. Maybe this is a chance. You can save lives, do what’s right”

“I’d like that”

“You have a choice, know that. If you don’t feel ready, I will fight tooth and nail against Fury. Rip that eye patch if I have to”

Natasha smiled at that, and you could float with how relieved you felt. Maybe things could be better after all.

“I’ll start working on dinner” she offered after a beat of silence and you nodded.

Quietly, she exited the gym. The room felt empty again. And as much as you wanted to reach out to her, hold her hand or be closer, like you were before, you’d let her be.

Maybe one day, she’d meet you halfway

#natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n

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highonmarvel · 4 months

Note

hi hope ur doing well. i was thinking, could u do a buckyxreader where hes paralyzed and like needs a caretaker. through some means reader ends up as the caretaker and all is well. but actually bucky was just pretending and hes not realy paralysed and he just pretended to get closer to reader and reader start expresing the idea that she might have to leave for whatever reason and buck does not like that so like he kidnaps her or something. I rlly luv ur work this is the first request iv sent

this is so good, i’m upset i didn’t think of it first. i’m so sorry for taking so long to get back to you, i really hope you enjoy, and thank you so, so much for the love. okay, here it is:

Himalayan Salt

Bucky Barnes: You’re assigned to a notoriously grumpy war vet, but he’s different with you.

content warnings here!

You nod as your supervisor goes over your final notes: James Barnes, World War II veteran, quadriplegic.

You follow her from the overcast weather into a beautiful but modest home in a fairly quiet suburb to meet the man sitting in a wheelchair in the centre of the room.

“Good morning, Mr Barnes,” your supervisor calls, tucking her clipboard under her arm as she waits for him to turn around. When he does, you’re surprised. You hadn’t seen a photo of him beforehand as this had been a pretty impromptu assignment, but you’re sure you were told he was born in 1917, yet he sits looking like he’s in forties, and aging well, at that.

“Hi, Mr Barnes!” you smile warmly at him, and he returns a friendly smile, introducing himself as Bucky and insisting you call him that.

“I just need you to fill out the last of the forms quickly,” your supervisor mutters, waving goodbye to Bucky as she leads you back out to her car.

You’re leaning against the boot of her oldish, red car, pen scratching against paper when she says, “He really likes you.”

“Hm?” you offer, raising your eyebrows but keeping your eyes focused on the form.

She leans her back against the trunk and shifts down a bit, speaking to you but looking over at your handwriting, “He’s known to be grumpy. You see the left arm? I don’t think he likes being dependent, I’ve had to swap out a lot of people.”

“And you didn’t tell me this before I took the job?” you frown, still finishing off the document, “Didn’t think I could handle it?”

“I know you’re capable, but I thought you wouldn’t want it. But listen, the organisation needs this, I don’t know if there’s anyone else we can find for him.”

You complete your signature with a satisfied smile, handing back the clipboard, “Don’t worry, I can do this.”

She nods then gets in her car and drives away, leaving you in the driveway. You stretch your arms then make your way back inside. When you enter the living room, there’s a draft you swear wasn’t here a few minutes ago. Bucky hasn’t moved, but you notice an open window. You furrow your brows as you look down at him, “Can I close that? It’s a bit chilly in here.”

“Go ahead,” he nods, and you walk over, pulling the handle it, and ignoring the recent-looking fingerprint marks on the glass.

***

A few hours into your first day, you’re a little taken aback by how friendly he is; even despite your boss’ warning, you’ve never had a patient so willing to co-operate, especially not veterans — they tend to be angry they need help, or have episodes due to PTSD, but Bucky seems perfectly in his right mind and understanding of both his and your position.

“Did they tell you I was a pain in ass?” Bucky asks before opening his mouth for a spoonful of food.

You laugh as you pull the spoon back, scooping up more of the rice and curry you made to lift to his lips, “Kind of,” you admit, “Said you were grumpy, is that true?”

He smiles, “I tend to be,” he confesses, “But I can’t keep that brooding persona up around you,” he takes a spoonful.

“So that’s what it is?” you raise an eyebrow as you pile the last of the meal onto the utensil, “A persona?”

He swallows the last of it and shakes his head with a grin, “No, but I can’t not be amused around you.”

***

You have no idea why your supervisor said he was difficult, your next few weeks with Bucky are light and fun, and you feel you’re even developing a friendship. You don’t see to him at night, and he has minimal needs during the day — some days it just feels like you’re there to keep him company.

You’re doing so well, in fact, that your supervisor wants to transfer you to a veteran from Vietnam who’s apparently even worse than Bucky (by other people’s stories — to you, if he’s anything like Bucky, he’ll be nice to see), convinced you have some magic touch.

As much as you’re developing affection for Bucky, you have to put work first, and you’re compelled to leave him for the other man who clearly needs you more. Bucky seems to be doing well, you’re sure you can’t be that special, and you’re sure someone else could take care of him just as well, if not better.

“Hi, Buck,” you greet with a smile as you close the door behind you. You hear his motorised wheelchair come rolling down the corridor to greet you.

“Hi, why could you only come in at ten today?”

You usually come in at seven on weekdays and eight on weekends.

“Sorry, I had a meeting,” you sigh, setting your tote bag down as Bucky switches his chair to manual.

“A meeting?” he asks as you take hold of the handles and push him to the other side of the kitchen island.

“Mhm,” you nod as you open the fridge, rummaging around for something to make, “There’s this other guy my boss wants me to help,” you call with your head still in the cold, “A Vietnam vet, no one else in the org will take him.”

You emerge with some eggs and milk, shutting the door with your foot before placing the contents on the island, “Did you eat? I assume Carol made breakfast but I can make more.”

“Are you going to take it?” he inquires, ignoring your question, “The job.”

“I mean, maybe,” you answer, placing your hands on the counter and tilting your head as you think, “I’m not sure yet.”

“But what about me?”

“The other guy needs full-time care, I’d have to spend virtually all my days there, but if I leave, Carol can take over for me, she can go from night to day, she’s amazing, and she doesn’t complain about you, at least not as much,” you wink, but he doesn’t crack a smile.

“Bucky, I didn’t mean to upset you—”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s just that—”

“It’s your job, I get it,” he replies, and you can see the stoicism build up.

“Nothing’s final, yet,” you say as you walk over, “And you’re doing great either way,” you give him a kiss on the forehead, “We don’t have to talk about that, let’s just eat, I’m starving.”

He nods and attempts to smile, but you can tell it doesn’t reach his eyes.

You try to make conversation as you make yourself an omelette, but you can tell he’s not in it, giving short answers and not reacting to your jokes. When you reach to grab the salt, he stops you.

“Not that one,” he says, “Use the pink salt, Himalayan, I swear it makes everything tastes better.”

You grind some onto your food and sit across from him on the island. Digging your fork into it, you see something flash across Bucky’s eyes. Your first thought is hunger, but he’d just eaten and swore he wasn’t hungry. You ignore it as you bring the fork to your mouth, savouring the taste, though it’s not necessarily a chef’s rendition.

It tastes fine, but there’s something off. At first, you think it must be the salt, but it’s not the taste that’s off; usually when you eat, you feel that warmth in your throat and then your stomach, but now, it’s like it went to your head. You press a hand to your forehead, feeling like you’re burning up. Trying to stand, you immediately sway, only not falling by gripping the counter so harshly and hastily you bend a nail. You try to look to Bucky to tell him you’re not feeling well, but he’s out of focus. In fact, he’s not there. Just as you collapse and close your eyes, you feel a tall shadow over you, but you don’t have time to figure out where it’s coming from before you fall unconscious.

***

You groggily wipe at your eyes when you finally stir before turning over to reach for your phone, at first thinking you had had a dream, but your phone’s not there, and the nightstand isn’t yours. You shoot up in panic and look down at your sheets: Bucky’s sheets. Okay, maybe Bucky rang Carol and she came and set you in bed. Your head still hurts, and everything’s a little hazy.

When the door opens, you expect to see Carol, but it’s Bucky.

“Bucky!” you gasp as you throw the sheets off of you.

He gives a lopsided grin, and for the first time you notice how tall he actually is, because he’s standing.

“Christmas miracle?” he offers.

He walks over to you and sets a glass of water on the bedside table.

“That Himalayan salt is really exotic, isn’t it?”

You don’t even have time to process exactly what he means by that, he’s still standing over you, using his arms and legs just fine, in fact, like he’s been doing it every single day forever. You should have suspected something was up; how could a paralysed man stay in such good shape? The thought briefly crossed your mind once when you ran your fingers over his muscled arm, but you brushed it off.

“Bucky! You- you—”

“Are perfectly fine, I am, and you will be too, soon, those drugs just need to wear off. I know you’re having trouble understanding, just drink some water and sleep it off a little longer.”

He leans down to give you a kiss on the forehead, but you dodge him, nearly falling off the bed in the process.

“Woah, there,” he chuckles as he catches you with ease, his reflexes so sharp it’s nearly unnatural, “Now I’m taking care of you.”

You’re not sure if you can’t speak because of the drugs or if it’s because you’re in shock. He gently sets you back down and your head falls against the pillow as you struggle to keep your eyes open, spots of black blocking little bits of your vision.

“I’ve been needing someone, I’ve gone through a few, but you, honey, you’re special, and I knew it from the moment I saw you. You can’t leave me, I still need you.”

✪

[taglist; @cjand10]

#dark bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes x reader #dark bucky x reader #dark bucky barnes x y/n #dark bucky barnes x you #dark bucky x you #dark bucky #soft dark bucky #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky x reader #dark!bucky barnes x y/n #dark!bucky x y/n #dark!bucky x you #dark!bucky barnes x you #soft!dark!bucky #yandere bucky barnes

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messyhairedhazeleyeddude · 4 months

Text

╔═════ •┈• “I Hear You.” •┈• ═════╗

A Toge Inumaki x Fem!Deaf!Reader || Fluff + SMUT || ˚. ୭ ˚◦˚.

Contents ; Mind reading (reader has cursed hearing), Toge has PTSD, soft touches, hesitant fingering, face-riding, mind control (Toge uses his speech curse), squirting, soft dom Toge, public sex, cock-warming, and a cumshot in reader’s panties.

A/N ; Hi, so I just wanted to explain a little bit of background on this since reader’s curse might be hard to understand for some right away. But, basically, reader is partially deaf from a horrible accident involving a curse that had consumed one of Sukuna’s fingers. It left her with a cursed ability to where she can listen into someone’s thoughts for a limited amount of time at random. However, it has its drawbacks which you will see in the story. Now, that’s all! Hopefully that clarifies some confusion if there is any.

Dynamic ; Best Friends to Lovers

Sexual Dynamic ; Soft Dom!Toge | Bottom!Fem!Reader

P.O.V ; First

Age range ; 18+

Music Suggestion ;

{Y/N’s P.O.V :}

I sat on an oak polished bench with a heavy sigh, facing toward the buildings of Jujutsu High, hundreds of Ginkgo trees shrouding certain parts of their rooftops in a pretty spiral. The same ones lining the path that I walked on to get to our usual hang-out spot.

Their orange leaves danced around my head and landed at my black Mary Jane’s, my glossy lips quirking up into a smile at the perfect shape of the leaf before lifting my Canon camera to take a picture. As soon as my finger hovered over the snap button, it flew away.

Wind being the culprit. A shudder ran down my spine when the gust blew through my {H/C} hair and ruined another shot, making me huff in frustration.

I’ve been dealing with this annoying weather all day. Finally, the day I’m off of studying and training. Left alone to fulfill any hobbies I want for as long as I want with no one calling me on a mission to exorcise curses. And it just had to be windy.

However, I couldn’t complain. Being able to get dressed for the day, something I hadn’t been able to do in a long time— was more than exciting. There was even time for myself to do my makeup and having hours like that as a Jujutsu student would be considered lucky.

Reminding myself of him, I smiled. The memories of his horrible attempts at being on time flashed in my mind and brought a small giggle out of me. Oh, that’s right. How could I forget the example himself? For the boy I was waiting on, getting out of work was non-existent.

The feeling of a warm hand placing itself on my shoulder made me jump out of my seat, twisting around to stand in a fighting position with a little scream. When I saw the recognizable white parted hair and tired, doe eyes of Toge, I clasped both of my hands together and puckered my lips out of embarrassment.

He was quick to be apologetic, repeating the same weird ingredients he usually said over and over again, “Sujiko… Takana..?” But, by now, I somewhat understood what he meant. Takana was used as a form of asking if I was okay. Sujiko… That, I could only guess meant an expression like, ‘Oh gosh.’ Or I liked to imagine it was.

Hanging out with the cursed speech user outside of missions had benefits when it came to understanding his way of talking. Although, that was funny to mention because the way we had come about to regularly seeing each other was far from willing. Or maybe it wasn’t on my end. But, if I could take those doubts back, I would.

Thinking of that dredged up a flashback of how it all started.

•···· ‘ First Meeting Him . . . ’ ····•

My feet slipped while trying to hop onto the next stone in the middle of a river I was crossing, almost taking a tumble into the cold water before I saved myself by stretching out my arms. I regained my balance and breathed heavily, cursing underneath a couple of them.

Then I went for the fifth one, regaining momentum and skipping across each of them until I landed on my toes into the bed of pebbles near the water. Surprisingly, I had yet to cut them on a sharp object sticking through the dirt.

I turned my head from staring down at my legs and white skirt to looking at my reflection in the clear stream.

{E/C} eyes peered back at me, filled with happiness from the moment of quiet, and appreciation for the fact I didn’t have to stress my attention span on anyone. Or that’s what I thought.

Before I could get further with that thought, a headache began to form on the right side of my temple and I placed a hand up to it; worry rising as I knew what was happening when I heard ringing after the throbbing. My curse. It was coming.

I couldn’t understand how it was. A person had to be beside me in order for me to connect to their inner consciousness and they’d have to be in an extremely weak mindset which would take hours for me to perfect in battle.

So, what this was and what this meant was far beyond anything I’ve experienced with my curse. Right up until this very point.

Crouching down to my knees, I started to hold both sides of my head now. The pain and ringing worsening by the minute. I rocked back and forth to try to ease myself. Why was it so hard to connect to them? It was like they were poisoning my brain the more I tried to.

Whoever it was took me forever to process before I could hear the faint sound of mumbling, such a soft and sweet voice.

“What do I do? What do I do? I can’t have her knowing that I stopped to watch her… Even worse, she could think I followed,” I managed to make out what they were saying, the masculine tone rambling on and on, as if the boy had some form of hyperactivity disorder.

Thankfully, the migraine stopped once I was successful in linking. So I was able to stand up straight again. Looking around for the responsible one of my misery.

I figured I’d tell them I knew they were here to lure them out of their hiding, shouting with a lag on any words I couldn’t hear I was pronouncing right, “Who’s out there?! You can show yourself! I won’t be upset with you!” Hope I said that correctly.

The voice paused and no longer spoke a word, a silence enveloping the atmosphere and leaving me to barely confirm that they were still present by checking if my cursed energy was still being used. When I did, I called out a second time, “I promise! I won’t think anything bad of you! I can hear your thoughts! My curse is working with you as of now!”

My attempts at getting them to come out seemed futile and I was about to give up before I heard rustling in the bushes to my left. I turned my head to see who it was and to my surprise, it was that cursed first grade sorcerer. What was his name? Inumaki?

His chin was lowered but his eyes were wide and fixated on mine, like he was in shock. He was nervous from what I could tell in his body language: hesitant in his footsteps, jagged breathing, and small pupils. I could see a shake in how he walked too. Whatever it was that was scaring him about me, it was definitely due to underlying trauma.

And once I heard what he started to think about, I pieced together why, “Okaka, okaka, okaka, okaka.” He continuously repeated the Japanese word for ‘Fish Flakes’ in a panicked tone, his hand moving up to his forehead to press against it. Toge was forcing himself to not think anything because he was worried his curse would affect me.

The poor boy proceeded to break down in front of me, landing onto his knees in the grass while pulling at his hair as slips of actual words were coming into his sentences, “Okaka, I can’t, no! Stop thinking, Ikura, just Ikura! No, no, no, OKAKA!”

I could feel his torment. Having access to someone’s mind wasn’t a gift like people assume it is, this was why. You get to see what they see, feel how they feel, and physically align yourself to the point where it could be labeled as scientifically combining one’s spirit with another. That means I can see all of his past and present. I can understand every single thing Inumaki was trying to do for me in that moment. And it was to save. Save me from him. Only save me from him. That was what he was really trying to say.

There wasn’t enough time left of my ability for me to convince him to calm down and see that nothing was wrong. I was cut off before I could say a word of affirmation and from the look of dull surprise on Toge’s face, he sensed that it was over.

I don’t think I’ll be able to forget that look of sadness in his purple eyes when he came to the realization that everything was fine. That none of his words had hurt or done the things he had saw in his head. It’s what led me to tug his sleeve as he tried to leave.

Inumaki didn’t look at me, but he stopped. Like he was waiting for me to say what I had to say. So, I hurriedly proposed an idea I wouldn’t have blurted out had I not felt rushed, “Can I see you again?”

Admitting this now, I adored seeing that smile curving up his cheeks, as melancholy as it was. It’s what made me start to crush on the boy. He nodded his head and gave me a thumbs up, his eyes squinting into crescent-shaped moons while he remarked, “Shake.”

That was the beginning of our unspoken friendship.

•···· ‘ End of Flashback. . . ’ ····•

I blinked rapidly when coming back from the small memory trip, realizing that I had been staring at Toge the entire time I was lost in it. A blush creeped onto my face, I could feel the warmth scattering my cheeks and I lifted my hands to cover it; leaving my eyes open to keep eye contact with him.

That wasn’t a smart idea. He was bound to know that I was flustered. Inumaki had such an odd increased sense of observation because of his inability to have conversations. I could see it from how he looked at me. It always felt like he was reading into my soul, gently peeping behind the curtains of my brain, and looking at the scripture of my bones whenever he held his gaze on me like he was currently.

A hum left me and I laughed it off, brushing the sleeves of my brown cardigan on my cheeks, stepping toward him, “Pardon that, it’s so cold… Do you think we could go somewhere warmer?”

Toge lingered the stare for a minute before he gave me a break and answered, “Tsuna Tsuna.” I distinctly recall that to mean, ‘Look’ in his vocabulary. Confirming it when he grabbed me by my wrist and pulled me closer, bringing me into a hug.

At first, I thought he was trying to warm me up with his own body temperature but then I felt him taking off his jacket and that made me pull away. The stupid blush on my face wouldn’t ever go if he kept this up. I apologized and waved a hand at the action, “No, no! Thank you for the kindness.. But, you need that too.”

He continued to take it off and walked back to where he was in front of me, throwing the jacket over my shoulders and holding it there with the arm holes wide open.

I stared up at him, his face closer than before, and the details in it enough to make my face burn brighter; like a tomato. Then I slowly slid my arms through the warm piece of clothing, letting it mold into my body, giving him a small smile of comfort and gratitude.

Toge looked me up and down, holding two thumbs up with an exclamation of the word he uses for praise, “Mentaiko!” His eyes smiling at me once again.

Why did he have to be so sweet? I was lost in thought about my crush on the boy for what felt like the millionth time. Tired of stressing my feelings on it but I wasn’t able to say a word about it to him. I didn’t want to ruin a friendship that seemed so fragile by acting on something that’d be so selfish. He wasn’t looking for a girlfriend, he was looking for a friend. Someone he could finally have a connection with outside of his stressors. Not another load to bear.

Shunning myself from having anymore thoughts on the matter, I went to sitting on the bench from earlier again, Inumaki following behind and plopping down next to me.

We sat in silence and watched the scenery like I had been before, helping me calm myself so no more unnecessary romance made me avoid the white-haired boy. I closed my eyes and burrowed most of myself into the jacket to keep some heat maintained, the smell of rice and red mungbean paste wafting from it.

Glancing at Toge, I noticed that he was leaned and fixated on scribbling something on a paper resting in his lap. Seemingly to have got it from the backpack he carried here.

I watched as he jotted down the last of what he needed to write. He shoved the pencil back into one of the pockets of his bag and folded the paper up into a square; handing it to me the moment he was finished. My expression changed into a surprised stare, digging my fingers into the corners of it until I undid the folds one by one.

There was no way I would expect to see what I read on that paper, but I did. Stumbling over the words he wrote with shock.

‘Please, try to connect to me again?’

Looking over at him, my wide eyes met with his purple, calm orbs. Like he was trying to tell me it was okay. Inumaki outstretched his hand and placed it facing up on my thigh for me to hold it, peacefully smirking at me as if he was letting me know that he was ready to talk.

My breathing increased and my eyelashes fluttered, trying to process everything without getting too overjoyed, but that was really hard. He wanted to speak to me. Would I be the first person he’s talked to? Would I be the first to experience a conversation with a cursed speech user?

None of this mattered. The only thing that mattered was getting to experience the connection again and after having so much time to regain control over this cursed energy I had, I was more than prepared to pull it together.

My eyelids shut and I focused every single bit of my attention on Toge’s presence, pinpointing the exact spots of his soul and reaching out a hand to place it on his forehead. Sweeping hair out of the way for my palm.

A buzz of power vibrated through my entire arm and I could hear the sounds of almost thousands of student’s thoughts for a fraction of a second, my head spinning until a snap was heard. And then quiet. I could picture a thin white line in my head, the sound of soft, running water making me giggle. His soul was so gentle and pretty. It was exactly what I thought it would be like.

I opened my eyes to look at his handsome face once more, giving him a nod to let him know that I succeeded in the connection. My heart picking up pace and thumping against my chest as I waited to hear that voice of his.

Quiet but kind, he murmured to me, “Can you… hear this?” I eagerly nodded, a wide grin accidentally peeping from my lips as I said, “Yes! Yes, I can!” His eyebrows raised and he appeared starstruck, choking out in his mind, “You can… And nothing is happening to you? You can talk to me?”

Tears formed in the corners of his ducts out of being overwhelmed, threatening to spill while I continued to shake my head up and down, confirming the one thing he had been wanting almost his whole life.

He scoffed, thinking out loud with more confidence, “I didn’t think something like this was possible for me…” I had never heard him speak so clearly before. Last time he was so hard to hear that I had to listen to each syllable for a clue on what he was saying. Now, he spoke directly into his head.

But, pushing everything to the side, I was curious about his reasoning. Why was he suddenly okay with this? So, I asked him, “What made you want to connect?”

Toge bit his lip at the question and a random look of nervousness crossed his face, his directness failing him as he gave himself away instantly, “I was trying to ask if you would be willing to cross the boundaries of friends and into something more…?” My jaw dropped at what he just said, looking at him like he was insane before coughing a reply, “Wow! I wouldn’t have thought this was what you were going to say! Um…!”

Tilting my head to the ground, I tucked my knees together and sheepishly took the hand that he kept there from earlier. Interlocking my fingers with his and squeaking out, “I think I would really enjoy that…”

This was happening. He was confessing feelings for me I believed didn’t exist a moment ago and telling me he wanted me to be his girlfriend. Holy, shit. Mind my language, but seriously! HOLY, SHIT!

Inumaki squeezed my hand and reached over to grab my chin with his other one, turning me to face him so he could get closer. Observing how I was responding to the situation with a tiny smirk. Was he being cocky? The Toge Inumaki?

He touched noses with me, asking as he barely hovered his lips on mine, “I don’t know why… but I really want to…Is it okay if I kiss you, {Y/N}?” My breath caught in my throat and I froze, responding through my own thought, “Yes.”

There was no hesitation after, our lips locking in a tight hold as he brushed his hand to the back of my neck, tugging me into him to where we were smushed against one other. A small bit of desperation in the pull, causing the both of us to stay in the kiss until we needed a break for oxygen.

I panted once apart, Toge moving his arm from holding my hand to pushing his fingers to my lower stomach, hesitating right around there. He murmured, “Can I go all the way?” Struggling from holding back by the way he was dragging down. I dug my teeth into my tongue and contemplated over the ask, secretly accepting it as soon as he mentioned it. Fuck, I felt like such a bad influence.

“Do it,” I quickly whispered into his ear, nuzzling down into the crook of his neck to hide there afterward. What were we doing? What if someone saw?

Me and Toge were exchanging kisses on an outside bench. We were cuddled up until the white-haired boy laid me down on the wooden planks, his lips dipping for my neck and sucking on parts that were exposed. I gasped, wrapping my arms around him to plant my nails deep into his back. I didn’t mean to hurt him, I was just overstimulated by the rushes of dopamine from every single touch he gave.

It was so soft. Even as he pushed his fingers underneath my skirt and in between my thighs, it tickled me from how delicate he was. This was weird. Who knew I would like someone touching me like this?

Inumaki hovered above my underwear once he got around to them, swallowing nervously while he confirmed with me for a second time, “I can go ahead? You want this?” He was so adorable in the way he quirked his head like a puppy as he asked, his messy hair making me want to squeal. But I refrained.

I decided to vocally express it now, “Yes, I want you to.” Hopefully that would get it through to him. His face almost innocent for that brief moment he asked right until he got the message. A darkness shading over his face before he hooked his fingers on the fabric that covered me. Pushing them to the side and making me hold my breath.

He was doing this to me. He was really going to do this with me. Out in public. My head turned to stare out at the falling leaves with a churning anxiety in my stomach now. Letting the boy above me feel the wetness between my legs with his fingertips, pushing down to my entrance and slowly sliding one third of it in.

If my grip was bad then, I couldn’t imagine how it was once he started. It felt like he was trying to tease me for the first half of it, constantly taking his fingers out, pushing an entire digit inside, then half of another, and proceed to completely abandon the whole thing. Like he was experimenting with me and figuring out which made me feel the best. Eventually, I had to plead, “Toge, Toge…! Can you please… just keep them in?” That was awfully embarrassing.

The purple-eyed boy raised his brows, gushing out an apology and pulling completely away instead, “Oh..! Sorry… You feel really.. nice. I hope this is okay…” Before he went to kiss from my neck down to my chest, all the way to my hips. Looking up at me through those white eyelashes of his as he went for it, wrapping his mouth on my sensitive bud and dipping his tongue to my entrance.

He lapped in and out of me, my legs tensing and squeezing around him on accident while he dragged me into sitting on top of his face. Peering at his eyes that stared straight up at me, the other half of him covered by my thighs and lower half. I humped a tiny bit from how good I was feeling. Unable to stop myself from getting out of hand because he was driving me nuts with his pace.

I couldn’t keep it in for longer if he kept pressing the tip of his tongue on those sweet spots inside. Or if he kept sucking on the right places. Anything. I would unwind. And I didn’t want to make a mess on him.

Without me saying a word about it, it was like he knew I was close because of how fast he got all of a sudden. Thrusting his tongue until my legs were shaking. I cried out, reaching for and tugging on his hair. Toge groaned on me, sounding like he was annoyed, “Cum already.”

Those were real. He actually said that. And I couldn’t respond to it because my first instant reaction was to scream, collapsing forward onto the arm of the bench to hold tight as I rocked my hips.

All of my juices fell out of me and anything that couldn’t be caught by him dripped down the sides of his cheeks onto the floor. I twitched and lifted myself off, my shoes thudding on the concrete as I tried to regain my balance. Jesus, fuck, I can’t believe he did that. I can’t believe WE did that. I was so dizzy from it, I didn’t know how I was awake. My hand reached up to rub my forehead.

Although, I had no idea that Inumaki had different plans. The sound of another command from him frightening me to my core, “Take them off.” I didn’t even know what he was telling me to take off but I went for his pants anyway, guessing that he could mean something and I would still do it despite not knowing. His ability was something else. And to say that I’m not freaked out about what he was telling me to do was an understatement.

Toge was making me hook up with him. Not like I wasn’t going to in the first place, I’m only confirming this because he was going down this route and I shamefully liked it. Well, loved it…

After taking his cargo pants off of him and resting them at his knees, he helped take off his boxers next, making me cover my eyes out of sheer inexperience. I’ve never seen one in real life. And here I was about to see Toge’s. This was my first time. He seemed to get how I was feeling because he patted my head for reassurance, cooing at me in thought, “Take your time… Sorry that I’m so eager. I hope you aren’t minding, {Y/N}..”

Oh no, I was far from minding. I snickered at myself and dropped my hands from my face, excusing my behavior, “Crap…! I don’t mean to act like a kid! I haven’t done this and it’s so nerve-wracking!” Red was covering my cheeks once again as I glanced over to see his exposed erection, becoming a flustered heaping pile of mush.

Toge huffed, “That’s why I was saying uh… those commands.. If I keep doing it, will that help?” Sounding so sexually frustrated that I was starting to feel bad for holding out. But, he was suggesting an actual solution that had been working. It made sense.

So, I agreed, “Yeah… actually.” And he cleared his throat with a squint to his eyes, quickly adjusting himself. It was crazy seeing the words really leaving his mouth, “Ride me.” That could go for what he was telling me to do as well.

Feeling my body go on autopilot, both of my legs straddled the sides of Inumaki’s hips, and I began lowering myself until his tip was prodding around my inner thigh. My hand grabbed the base once I struggled for a minute, aligning it against my entrance to ease his shaft into me.

A gasp escaped my lungs, moans cascading afterward while I shakily grabbed onto both of his shoulders, his arms wrapping around my waist to hold and guide me on him. Fucking into me as I bounced lightly. I could feel how small I was for him from his dick refusing to slide out at some points. Like my body was trying to keep him inside.

We groaned in unison, syncing with each other’s movements, my voice pitching when he brushed into a spot that he abused earlier. He memorized where it was and aimed directly for it, his eyebrows knitting together as sweat dripped down from his forehead. It was so good. He felt so good. And he had a look to his face that I would never forget.

After fifteen minutes of doing it out in the open, someone was finally about to walk past and I sensed them barely seconds before they could see us. Pretending to have fell asleep on Toge once the person arrived. His jacket placed over our lower halves.

“What’s up Inumaki? Aaaaannnnd… {Y/N}…” the sound of Maki’s voice made me internally cringe as she seemed like she was getting closer. Making me pray that she wouldn’t get any ideas about what was going on. If she found out, we wouldn’t hear the end of it.

He gave his usual greeting, “Konbu..” Playing it off surprisingly well with the tone of his speech, no stutters whatsoever. Even though I could feel his dick throbbing inside of me and that was not helping my case in fighting against the demand he gave.

I tried to steady my breathing into the soft breaths like I do when I’m about to fall asleep, panicking in my mind, forgetting that Toge can hear, “I want to so badly.! I need to! I need to!” In my defense, I really couldn’t help it. He told me to do it in cursed speech. Every part of my body was screaming at me to, pain coursing through my skin when I denied the action.

Maki’s voice lowered, sounding like she was getting suspicious which terrified me, “What is she doing lying on you like that, Inumaki?” But, I couldn’t think of anything from the burn of the speech curse and it seemed like he knew that. Because even as she was right there and asking him, he began to subtly roll his hips into me, helping relieve it.

The way he said the ingredients in response were getting a bit butchered, “Nntsuna m-mayo..” And his swear word kept slipping when he pushed himself deeper into me, “Ikura…” I held my breath as I tried not to make a single noise. Too hard. Way too hard. This was such a dangerous game to play. But, why did I love it so much?

It seemed like Maki knew something was up from the way she responded, although she didn’t know what, “Ooookay… Well, I’m not going to get any information out of you any time soon.” Keeping it at that, I could make out her energy walking away from us to the other side. A huge wave of relief washed over me as I arched back into a sitting position on him, spreading my legs so he could move more freely. We were right back into it with our lust at an all time high.

Toge did most of the work when it came to it, but he didn’t seem to care. His dedication in making me feel amazing nothing short. Fingers slipping down to play with my bud after I became labored in my moans, edging me closer and closer into cumming again. My walls tightened around him before more of my liquids rushed out onto his lap, becoming a huge mess.

I wanted to apologize for ruining the bottom half of his shirt, but I couldn’t. He wouldn’t let me, continuously ramming into me until he was approaching his own end. There were several actual curses from him inside of his head as he neared it, no longer those innocent food items he loved, “Fuck.. How does it feel so.. tight? Fuck, that feels too good..! Y/N}… I think I’m going to… I need to..!”

Then he pulled out at the very last moment to cum around my lower back, most of it landing on my underwear and sabotaging them like I had with his clothing.

I was exhausted, both of us panting and taking a break by resting on the bench. Pulling up my panties as dirty as that was. I liked to think it was like a finishing touch. I gave him a small peck on the cheek, muttering weakly, “I like you… Toge…” Too shy to say the word ‘Love’ despite what we did just now.

Using the last of my strength, I kept up the connection of our brains to hear him reply back, not hearing a hesitation to his voice in the slightest, “I love you, {Y/N}.” Then I passed out on him quickly after, ironically fulfilling what we feigned earlier.

#jjk smut #smut #smut prompts #jjk toge #jjk toge inumaki #jjk x fem!reader #toge inumaki x reader #toge inumaki #inumaki toge #toge inumaki x reader smut #toge inumaki fluff #fluff #toge inumaki x fem!reader #reader has a hearing curse #deaf reader

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callmearcturus · 1 year

Text

The Verge got ahold of Elon's meeting with his new pals and if you got time, you should scroll past the highlights and read the entire thing because its absolutely balls to the wall batshit. I just liveblogged it to my discord server.

I think I very rapidly want to improve every aspect of Twitter. Search I know we can improve immediately and in a number of ways. I mean, just this morning, I actually was just looking for Jack [Dorsey] actually. And I typed Jack into the search engine, and “@jack” was not the number one thing. But that should be the number one thing. So then I just had to type “@jack” in directly. If you type j-a-c-k, your number one thing should be Jack Dorsey. I mean, that’s probably what you’re looking for, you know? So I think anything we do to improve any aspect of the system, let’s do it right away.

Elon legitimately thinks we give a shit about how the search functions and that's a huge thing that'll bring people in. bitch, people read their TIMELINES?????

also the WILD assumption that if I type a very common 4 letter name i OBVIOUSLY want to see jack dorsey. what the fuck.

I’d love to see ads for gizmos. If I saw ads for gizmos, I love gizmos, of course, I’d buy them all in a click. Even if they’re not that great, I’ll still buy gizmos. I love technology. I’ll see content for gizmos but not an ad or an ability to actually buy the gizmo. So then I have to send it to my assistant like, “Please buy this gizmo.” That’s how it goes generally. But I’d be happy to just click on it and buy it.

Twitter, which is having an advertiser crisis of Elon's own making which may lead to lawsuits from the likes of Eli fucking Lilly, wants more fun ads.

oh and he wants to make twitter into A BANK. he wants to give verified users like 10$ (reminder: you pay 8$ to be verified) so people will start sending each other money. what happens when they wanna send to someone who doesn't want to hook up their fucking bank info to twitter? oh we'll send out debit cards with the amount. (for real) and elon says they'll take all the money ppl put on twitter and place it into a high yield account to collect the interest

elon, you don't HAVE cash to place into an account right now, and its a FUCKING RECESSION and you just TANKED twitter's credit advisory score, so who is gonna give you this high yield account, pal

I’ve been through the recession of 2000 and 2001 and 2008-9, and I’m somewhat paranoid about dying in recessions. I have recession PTSD from keeping X and PayPal alive through the 2000 recession, keeping Tesla alive in the 2009 recession.

i cordially invite elon to sit on a rusted steel dildo

oh also he's forcing everyone back to "the office" even if they live in remote locations in an attempt to get more people off the payroll. that's why he's doing it.

twitter genuinely might not last a month.

#twitter #this transcript is fucking BANANAS

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cordeliawhohung · 4 months

Text

Sun Bleached Flies - Part 1

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part ten of "soft spot"

Healing never comes as fast and easy as you want it to, but you try and adjust to your new life as best as you can. The thing is, there is no going back, there is only going forward, no matter how much you wished it was otherwise.

warnings: PTSD, angst, minor comfort, panic and anxiety attacks, spook and simon are going through it.

wc: 6.6k

A gentle breeze danced through the open window of his therapist’s office, bringing the scent of spring with it.

Moist grass, a hint of rain, freshly bloomed flowers; all hints of something new being born. Except this wasn’t new for Simon. Sitting in an overly calm and quiet room in a chair that was too soft as a man who looked too ancient for this earth flipped through notes of their previous sessions.

This wasn’t Simon’s first time in therapy, and he was certain it wouldn’t be his last. After everything he had endured over the winter, he was required to attend sessions before he would be allowed to return back to active duty. He had only started a few weeks ago, as most of his energy and time had gone into taking care of you, but once you were well enough to go back to work, well, it was time to take care of himself.

“How was your week, lieutenant?” the man spoke up after finally putting his notes down. His name was Gus, and was ex-military. Or, at least Simon assumed he was, judging by the deep and long wrinkled scars that littered his face and the unceremonious use of his rank. “Anything new?”

“It was alright,” he answered bluntly. He was never quite good with the awkward small talk that came with therapy. Something about how he was supposed to bare his darkest secrets just to talk about the weather was unnerving. “Spook started physical therapy this week.”

Usually, Simon never used that nickname Johnny coined for you, but ever since you were taken, he felt as if he couldn’t use your real name. That sharing anything about you was forbidden. Or maybe he was just being selfish, wanting to keep you, even your name, all to himself.

“At least she’s in some sort of therapy,” Gus said dryly. “She still refusing counseling?”

He nodded solemnly. “Says she doesn’t think she can talk about it yet.”

Gus grunted a little as he sat forward in his chair. A pair of frail and shaky hands reached up to remove the oversized glasses on his face before he settled his foggy eyes back on Simon. “Does she talk about it with you?”

“Tries,” he responded sourly. “She used to talk so much about everything; everything except for whatever was hurtin’ her. Always thought she’d tell me eventually, whenever she was ready. But after this shit? I’m fuckin’ lucky to get anything out of her. Even the good stuff.”

Instead of prompting him with another question, Gus stayed quiet as he stared at Simon, and he knew what it meant. That man must have been in the business of fixing broken soldiers for quite some time because it never took him long to figure out what was bothering him. Always struck gold on the first shovelful of dirt. Might as well make things easy and give up the rest.

“Everything that I’ve learned about her past I’ve had to piece together myself,” Simon explained. “Her moms passing she told me herself, but I know her previous partner was a right piece of shit. Judging by the way she hardly ever talks about her father, he probably was no better. She hasn’t told me anything about when she was taken, or what they did to her. There’s some stuff I can figure out. God, there was fuckin’ photographic proof on the damn floor.” He paused for a moment and shook his head as if trying to get his thoughts back in order. “She tries but then just shuts down and I… fuck, I dunno.”

“And what have you told her?” Gus asked as he leaned back in his chair.

Eyebrows drawing together and cheeks scrunching under his mask, Simon tilted his head to the side. “What?”

“I mean, what have you told her? About your past, or your family? Are you making her play the same guessing games?” Gus pressed.

A lump formed in Simon’s throat so thick he thought he would choke on it. He wanted to say that sharing his past was different. How was he supposed to talk about the torture he endured, the hook tearing through his ribs, the slaughter of his family? How their deaths were pinned on him, and he burnt away the evidence of them; what would you say to that? Or if you knew about his revenge, how he traversed a jungle just to kill a man?

He grimaced. Hadn’t you already seen his revenge?

“You’ve been pretty open with me so far, lieutenant, and that’s a lot more than I can say for most of the men I see in here,” Gus continued, “so tell me; what is it that you’re really afraid of?”

Really, therapy wasn’t all too different from being interrogated. In both circumstances, there was someone trying to poke and prod around inside of his head. And in both circumstances, it was never fun when they poked the right spot.

“I don’t want her to think I’m like them,” he finally admitted.

“Her abductors?” Gus clarified. “Why would she think that?”

“I broke a man's arm and shot him as I had him pinned to the ground. Right in front of her,” Simon explained as if he saw Bukin dying all over again. Heard the bone snap and the crunching sound of his flesh grinding underneath his boot. Watched as his head jumped dully against the ground as the bullet tore through his skill.

“You saved her life,” Gus countered.

“I was violent,” he spat.

“So were they.”

“I’m supposed to be better than them.”

“If you were better than them, she’d be dead, son.”

Silence. The breeze continued to drift through the open window, attempting to kiss Simon’s flesh through his clothes, too kind for him to be deserving of it. He continued to stare through the old man as he waited for him to explain himself.

“You brought her home alive. You know better than anyone that being soft comes with consequences. Some good, some bad. Be violent, be a monster; be Ghost in the moments when you’re doing your job. When you’re protecting the ones you love.” Throughout his last few weeks of therapy, Simon hadn’t heard the old man speak with such conviction until that moment. Like the man spoke from experience. “Be soft when you’re with her. Share the stuff that hurts. It sounds like you’re the closest person she has. Certainly the strongest. How is she supposed to be vulnerable with you when you’re the one who’s scared?”

The thing Simon hated the most about therapy was hearing things he already knew but was trying to ignore. Everything would have been so much easier had he let you ramble that night the oxycodone had scrambled your brain. But it was his fault things had gotten that way in the first place. That picture of you that he kept despite his better judgment, leading Bukin right to your door; that was his fault. Selfish of him to hope that you’d be the one vulnerable first as if he didn’t have something to atone for.

Simon let out a heavy sigh as he looked down at his hands. The old man was right, and it was frustrating. “Christ,” he muttered.

“Start with the small stuff. You don’t have to air everything out all at once. Actually, it would be better if you didn’t. Don’t want to overwhelm the poor girl,” Gus assured him. “Remember, she’s a civilian. She didn’t have the resources and training that you did going into that.”

He didn’t spend much longer in that office before Gus sent him away to do his homework: figure out a memory to share with you. Sounded easy enough, but when he had spent countless years keeping things to himself so as to keep others safe, it was near painful. But he tried his best to think of something as he made his way back to the apartment.

You weren’t there when he got home. Not that he had expected you to be, though it still felt wrong. As soon as your wound was no longer needing constant attention, you instantly hopped back into work. He tried to dissuade you from doing so, saying that he’d still have more than enough money to pay for everything, but you wouldn’t hear any of it. Claimed you were tired of being locked up in the apartment all day, even if he was there with you. Though it worried him, he couldn’t blame you, not after everything that had happened there. Every now and then he still found a small, green bead somewhere on the living room floor.

A sigh left him as he stood in the entryway, staring at Boo who watched him curiously from the couch. The window had been left cracked open, and it looked like the little guy had been enjoying some fresh air. Simon tried to tell you that leaving the blinds open was just asking for someone to snitch that you had a cat in the apartment. You had retorted by saying boarded up windows made for a shitty home.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled to himself.

This was going to be a pain in his ass.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

“This guy is getting on my fucking nerves.”

That was the fucking understatement of the year. Méabh lazily leaned against your desk as she glared over at the new branch manager they had hired during your absence. His name was Jace, and he liked to spend his time at work micromanaging all of his employees, including Cheryl, who was able to wire money with her eyes closed after so many years in the business. The poor woman looked like she was one more annoying comment from smacking the overbearing manager.

“He told me I didn’t ask enough security questions on the last transfer I did as if I didn’t ask all the ones that popped up on the screen,” Méabh continued in a droning grumble. “I wish Anna was still here. She did her job and wasn’t a complete cunt about it.”

“Just be glad that you only work part time,” you teased while trying to focus on your paperwork.

“Yeah, for now,” Méabh whined. “I’ll be going full time over summer holiday. Means I’ll get to see this prick twice as often.”

Really, it wasn’t Jace’s hawk-like gaze, or even his annoying nasally voice that got on your nerves. It was his shoes. While most of the girls at the bank wore flats to save themselves from achy feet, Jace wore terribly loud dress shoes. Whenever he walked, it sounded like he wore high heels with the way they clacked on the floor, and with how much he stomped around it was impossible for him to sneak up on anyone.

“Are you almost done?” Méabh then prompted. “I wanna get out of here.”

“You don’t have to wait for me, you know,” you chuckled.

“Thought I’d do the noble thing and keep you company. You know, unless you want Jace to read over your paperwork before you submit it,” she retorted with a playful roll of her eyes.

“How kind of you.”

Luckily for Méabh, or perhaps the both of you, you had just typed up the finishing touches to your work. Not even a minute later the whirring of your computer died down as you shut it off for the night and stood from your desk. However, you made the mistake of pushing with both your hands, and you winced as a zapping pain shot through your left shoulder. Even after all those months, your wound hadn’t fully healed.

“You alright?” Méabh asked as you gathered your items.

“Yeah,” you said, slightly winded. Glancing quickly over at Jace, and poor Cheryl who was still stuck listening to his ramble, you looked back at the young girl before nodding towards the door. “Let’s get out of here.”

Without saying goodbye, or saving your co-worker, you and Méabh slipped out of the building unnoticed and into the fresh spring air. Or, at least as fresh as it could get in the midst of London. It had been months since you last smelt real fresh air. When had it been, back at the end of August when you and Simon had gone on holiday? With the beautiful seaside and mist that tasted like salt? Or was it…

No. No, that couldn’t be right.

“Need a ride?” Méabh prompted.

You pulled your head out of the frigid water, dusted the sand off your knees, and smiled politely as you adjusted the blazer that perfectly complimented your pristine work clothes. You always had a way of bringing yourself back to reality if it meant avoiding an awkward conversation. Always so calm and put together, even with fragments of a bullet still stuck in your body.

“No, I’ll, uhm, just walk home. Thanks,” you excused as your eyes glanced out at the busy streets ahead.

Saying goodbye was awkward. Hell, everything was awkward those days. But like you did with all things in your life, you gritted your teeth and bared it before starting your walk home.

It was strange trying to remember how you used to fit into the world before everything. Sure, you never quite fit in beforehand, squeezing into places too small for you to exist in, but it had become home. But not then. Your edges had become warped, curling in on themselves, retracting into your body. Your piece of the puzzle had shrunk, but everything else stayed the same size, leaving you stuck with a gap that separated you from everyone else.

You were a watcher; a stranger to the very earth that nourished you. You could hear the seagulls rummaging through a pile of rubbish left beside the bin, and you could see the vibrant valley flowers that took up the window of the florist's shop on your left, but it was… blurry. Fuzzy, like the tingling sensation that plagued your arm every now and then when the blood flow was bad. You tried to focus, do anything to make the imagery around you feel sharper, but the faces of pedestrians were empty, like nobody around you was real, least of all yourself.

And then you were home.

It was difficult to tell how long you were standing outside of the door, staring at the empty wood as if it was a mirror. You had just sort of appeared there, like some sort of ghost. Without taking your eyes off of the door, you dug your hand into your bag and blindly felt around for your keys. A part of you couldn’t help but wonder if this was the view Leon had before kidnapping you. Before drugging you and taking you to that fucking basement.

No. Bukin. Simon told you his last name was Bukin, and you weren’t going to give your dead captor the pleasure of using his first name as if you had been friends.

Eventually the keys ended up in the lock and you entered the apartment. A heavy aroma of seasoned chicken filled the air around you, and you heard quiet cursing coming from the kitchen. You rounded the corner and were greeted by Simon cooking at the stove and Boo trying his hardest to trip the poor man. The critter stareed up at him with big, begging eyes as he followed your lovers every step.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he greeted, quickly glancing away from his work to look at you.

“You two look busy,” you chuckled, tossing your bag onto the counter.

“I’m busy,” Simon corrected before tossing a playful glare down at the poor cat by his feet. “He’s a menace.”

Humming, you stood next to Simon and glanced at what he had on the stove. It was pretty common for you to come home from work with dinner already started, if not finished. Simon had become something of a chef since taking care of you, and he had some pasta boiling and some chicken frying. He had started eating a lot more protein and carbs since going back to the gym, attempting to gain back the strength he had lost while captured.

“He’s just a baby,” you said, reaching a hand towards the hot pan. With careful fingers, you tore off a small bit of the chicken before blowing on it a little to cool it down. Boo had already stretched up to reach up your thigh by the time you had bent down to give it to him. After a few deep sniffs, he eagerly took it in his mouth and ran off.

“Spoiled rotten, he is,” Simon mumbled.

“He was being so patient,” you cooed, watching as Boo scarfed down his treat in the corner of the kitchen, as if afraid someone would take it from him.

“Patient, my arse,” he chuckled.

A dull beep sounded from the stove, which Simon quickly pressed a button to shut it off. With a twist of the dial, he turned the heat off of one of the burners and you heard the sound of boiling water quiet down before he moved it towards the sink to strain it. As hot steam billowed upwards, you turned your attention towards one of the cabinets where you found yourself reaching up for it. A small stack of china sat on the lowest shelf. You couldn’t even remember the last time you had actually set the table yourself.

“Don’t worry ‘bout that, sweetheart,” Simon said as he sat the still steaming pot on the counter next to the sink.

Shooting him a weird look, you continued in your pursuit. “I can handle getting plates, Simon.”

And you did. Grabbed two plates right off the shelf and held them in your hands as you looked at him as if in a challenge. But you understood why he was still so… skittish. He had spent the last few months doing everything for you. Bathing you, dressing you, making your food; he did it all. It almost felt more vulnerable than bleeding out on cold grass. A burden, that’s what you had become. Just another pet for someone to take care of. And Simon didn’t mind it, you knew that; he never did. Still, it was difficult to rot away in that apartment in good conscience knowing he was caring for someone who more than likely should have been a corpse by the ocean.

Saying nothing, Simon turned his attention back to his work as you walked towards the dining table. You hadn’t even made it halfway there before something crumbled inside of you. A shooting pain ran up and down your left arm, searing your nerves and burning away your flesh. A tingling numbness settled over your hand and the plates you tried to hold so carefully slipped right through your fingers where they shattered on the ground at your feet with a deafening crash.

Your gasp was cut off by a short whimper as your hand reached up to press against your old, yet still aggravated wound. You kept the pressure there as if trying to keep yourself from spilling on the floor, and you looked down at the mess you made.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you cursed. You pulled your hand away from under your arm and looked at your hand as if expecting blood.

“You alright?” Simon asked, heavy footsteps trailing across the floor behind you.

“I’m fine,” you spat, words sharp enough to tear through flesh.

The footsteps behind you stopped, and it forced you to realize the bite in your tone. It also made you realize how your hand trembled and heart stung as if you were afraid, as if you had been running. In an attempt to calm your nerves, you let out a heavy sigh before looking down at the mess you made. A terrible mosaic of broken glass and a now slightly chipped wooden floor spanned the area around your feet. You had ruined two perfectly good plates, damaged the floor, and you were the one snapping?

So much like your father. Being angry at the mess when it was your own fault.

“I’m… fine,” you tried again, softer this time. Empty. “Sorry, I… didn’t mean to…”

When Simon continued to walk towards you, you half expected him to reach for you, and some strange part of you didn’t want him to. Didn’t want his touch. Couldn’t stand it because you knew you didn’t deserve it. Instead, he knelt on the ground next to you, large fingers carefully picking up the bigger pieces of the shattered plates and gathering them into the palm of his hand.

“You don’t have to clean up my mess,” you said softly, lip trembling as you knelt down next to him to mirror his actions.

“I know,” he replied simply. He still cleaned anyway.

Anger was a weird thing for you. It wasn’t often that you felt it without some other emotion accompanying it. Confusion. Frustration. Grief. Shame usually followed shortly after. Truth was, you were angry all the time those days, and it was worse than almost any other emotion you could have experienced. When you had first started your road to recovery, you felt numb, and when you didn’t feel numb you felt terrified. A part of you wished you were still in that stage because you could at least explain why you felt that way. Some sort of self preservation mode your body had forced itself into in an attempt to smother the trauma you had endured over several long weeks. The anger that hid itself away in your chest was something you couldn’t explain. You didn’t know why it was there, but you wished it wasn’t.

So you stayed silent as you assisted Simon in cleaning up the shattered plates. It had remained mostly in several large chunks, but there were smaller, more fine pieces that you’d have to use a broom for. You hated that your hands shook for each piece you reached out for.

“I broke one of my mum’s vases when I was a kid,” Simon said unprompted. You found yourself pausing. As you held what pieces you had gathered in your hand, you glanced over at him, and he must have felt your gaze because his eyes flickered to you before focusing back on his work. “Was an accident. Kickin’ around a football in the living room when she told me not to. I tried to hide it from her until I could fix it, but she knew immediately it was missing.”

“Was she mad?” you asked.

It felt… odd. Strange. Nice. In all the years you had been with Simon, neither of you had really talked about your pasts. All you had gotten or shared were fragments. And there he was, picking up your mess, showing some raw part of himself you had never seen before.

“Upset, but not mad. She never got mad, even when she should have,” he replied, voice unwavering.

A thick lump had formed in your throat that was difficult to swallow. Something fuzzy tingled in the back of your mind, like something was trying to rip a chunk of flesh out of you; a memory. Teeth sinking into the inside of your cheek, you swallowed again before speaking.

“My… father broke a lot of plates when I was younger,” you admitted, staring down at the chunks of china in your hands. “Usually to get a reaction out of my mom. They were her mother’s, my grandmother’s, plates. Eventually she had to end up buying plastic plates when he had smashed them all, but that didn’t stop him from throwing them. He was always…”

So predictable.

Hadn’t you just said that not too long ago? After the shattering of a bowl? More broken china to stain the ground, the carpet, in that basement. You remembered his glare, Erik’s glare - Adakskin - when you told him he was predictable. And you were right. He had done everything you knew he would. A broken dish was always followed by pain. It didn’t matter. It never did. A broken dish was always followed by pain, even if you were the one breaking it.

Eyes watering, you coughed a little as a sharp tickle formed in your throat. Simon, whose eyes had been on you, glanced over his shoulder to see a fair bit of thick steam and light smoke rising out of the pan he had been cooking chicken in. Cursing, he stood to his feet and quickly tossed the pieces of china he had gathered into the trash before moving the pan off the heat.

And just like that, you were back. Still kneeling, still cleaning, still quiet. Your life had become nothing but a blur of time; living in the past and present at the same time. Even at work, at home, with Simon, the past held onto you so violently you weren’t sure you would ever be able to shake it off. You tried telling yourself you could - that you would - but once again you were cleaning up a broken plate. Always cleaning but never clean.

“Hope you like crispy chicken,” Simon sighed. Spatula in hand, he attempted to scrape the burnt meat off of the pan.

Once you ensured every single shard had been picked up, you turned your attention towards the kitchen for a split moment. You attempted a smile, but it felt too big on your face, so you got rid of it the moment it formed.

“I’m gonna change out of my work clothes,” you said instead, crossing through the kitchen to head towards the bedroom. “I’ll, uh… I’ll let you get the plates this time.”

He didn’t say anything in response as you vanished down the hallway, but he kept his eyes on you. His lips tightened into a thin line for a moment before relaxing once more and turning his attention back to dinner. He knew this stage of healing was going to be the hardest. The body had a way of mending wounds that the mind just couldn’t mimic with trauma. That conversation had been the most he was able to get out of you in months, and you still looked terrified.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

It had been years since Simon had last smoked a cigarette. He used to smoke regularly when he first joined up, especially more so after his family was killed. It was a good way to keep himself awake on missions, or for avoiding nightmares. He quit when the withdrawal symptoms got bad and he had difficulty with cardio during PT. Now he smoked for the alleviation of stress, even if it only lasted for a moment. Or maybe he did it just to keep his hands moving. No matter the reason, it didn’t change the smoke curling in his lungs as he took drag after drag.

Something had been on his mind since you dropped those plates at dinner the previous night. The empty look in your eyes haunted him almost as bad as the shaking of your hands. It was getting worse. Or, at least, it wasn’t getting better, and that terrified him. He didn’t know what to do to help you short of dragging you off to some therapist, which he knew wouldn’t do any good. Something was building. Something was going to burst, and he didn’t know when, but the pressure was there and there was nothing he could do about it.

So there he stood, off in some secluded area on base, smoking his cigarette with a jaw so tense there were indentations of his teeth on the filter. It didn’t take him long to finish it, and when it had been stomped into the ground with the heel of his boot, he was half tempted to smoke another. Keeping the pack in his pocket, he released a heavy sigh before marching back towards the building that housed his office.

Avoiding as many people in the halls as he could, he quickly unlocked the door and shut it as soon as he slipped inside. The air felt stale, like no one had entered to clean his space in his absence, which was probably for the best anyway. He flicked the light on, and it struggled to fill the room, being dimmer than he remembered it being, but it was enough for the moment. With a press of a button, his computer started to whirr to life, and he sat in his chair as he waited for it to boot up. It had great difficulty starting, and he could hear his SSD grind and whine after being shut off for so many months.

Eventually the monitor lit up, and Simon wasted no time logging in before opening his browser. The last time he had used this computer he had spent all his time and energy searching through houses and apartments and hotel rooms in search of where you were being held. Now, he found himself looking at houses and apartments again, but for a different reason.

He needed to get you out of there; out of the apartment the two of you had been staying in. Too many bad memories stained the walls for either of you to do any sort of healing. And so he searched and searched and found his frustration growing. A one bedroom apartment for 3,000 a month? Christ, the housing in that fucking city was astronomically expensive, and sure he could afford it, but for a single damn room?

So he kept searching. It was difficult trying to find someplace that wasn’t halfway across the city from base that was also still close to your work. He’d hate for you to have to take the tube alone, or walk too far alone at night in the city, especially dressed as fancy as bankers usually were. Of course there was always housing on base, but he wouldn’t be able to bring you with because the two of you weren’t married.

Your wife; they are relocating her.

Even after all that time he could see that woman clearly, whoever she had been, sitting on the floor of the room you were supposed to be in. At the time he tried to shake off the way that statement made him feel. Behind the anger, frustration, and fear, there was something else there. Wife. He had liked the term. He wished it was true. Then he remembered the photos in front of her. Your face; your gorgeous face, trapped in that Polaroid. The tears and blood that stained your cheeks and lips, the way an unforgiving hand gripped your jaw, forcing you to look at the lens.

Wife. He wanted that, craved it. But that wasn’t the time, not after everything that had happened.

Simon wasn’t brought out of his thoughts until someone knocked on his door, where he found himself glaring at the big hunk of wood. He hadn’t been there in months, and most people should have known that, so why was someone trying to bother him? Still, he gave them a gruff order to come in and he was quickly greeted by Johnny’s wide eyed expression.

“You’re back?” Johnny asked breathlessly as he shut the door behind him.

Well, at least out of everyone that it could have been, it was him.

“Not yet,” he replied simply. His chair squeaked as he leaned back in it in an attempt to relax some. He tried to make a mental reminder to use some WD-40 on it later. “How’d you know I was here?”

Johnny used his thumb to point over his shoulder at the door behind him. “Was on my way to storage to put some files away,” he explained simply, simultaneously shaking the manilla folder in his hand. “Walked by and saw the light peeking from under the door. Figured someone was cleaning, but knocked just in case.” He took a few cautious steps forward, as if approaching a skittish cat. “How’s everything?”

Simon wasn’t quite sure how to answer that question. Things certainly weren’t great, but they could be worse. For example, you could be dead, or still hospitalized. But saying things were great was far from the truth, and he wasn’t exactly keen on explaining every little issue that had been plaguing him as of late.

“It’s an adjustment,” he admitted instead, “but we’re getting there.”

Johnny nodded, getting even closer to his lieutenant. “Spook doin’ alright, then?”

Even after all that time, Simon still didn’t like talking about you with other people, even if it was Johnny. Hell, even talking about you to his therapist made him feel tense. But he couldn’t hold onto you like that forever, keeping you caged in the safeness of his arms where you were supposed to be safe. And he had to come to the realization that his sergeant deserved to know. Simon had been there the entire time; through the hospital, through your healing. The last time Johnny had seen you, you were bleeding out on your way to the nearest hospital.

“She’s back to work. Started physical therapy this week, too,” Simon explained, though he wasn’t sure how much more he could say.

That small bit of information seemed to mean the whole world to Johnny, and his face lit up. “Good, that’s good! Glad she’s doin’ better.” Then, his eyes darted to the monitor. He caught sight of the rental listings lined up on the screen, as well as their crazy high prices. “Searchin’ for a new home?”

Simon’s attention turned back to the computer for a moment where he let a heavy sigh escape him. “Yeah. Figured it was about time I got her out of there. The apartment. Wanted to get her out sooner, but couldn’t when she was still hurt.”

“It woulda been a lot for her to adjust to at once,” Johnny agreed.

Things fell silent for a moment as both men lost themselves in their thoughts, but only for a short moment before Johnny adjusted the folder in his hand.

“Well, I’ll let you continue searching,” he excused himself as he took a step back. “Gotta get this to storage eventually.”

Simon was one second away from wishing the man well before watching him leave his office, but something stopped him. He knew that if he was alone again, his thoughts would go right back to where they were before. That woman in the room. Pictures of you on the floor. The blood. The Polaroids. That fucking hand that gripped your face - the hand that had no fucking right to touch you. Those goddamn pictures.

“I’ll come with,” Simon said, already shutting his computer down.

Eyebrows drawing together, Johnny tilted his head to the side as he paused his retreat. “You sure?”

There was no room for argument. Everything in his office was quickly shut down and put away, and the two men walked through the halls of the building. There were a few familiar faces that threw Simon odd glances, as if surprised to see him there, or perhaps surprised he was still alive. His name was Ghost for a reason.

Neither man said anything to one another until they reached the storage room. Shelves lined up like dominos and spanned all the way to the back wall where an industrial sized paper shredder sat. Large white cardboard boxes rested on the shelves with simple flip open tops, each labeled with either a case or date of some sort. Painfully white lights washed out the entire room, causing Johnny to squint for a moment before his eyes adjusted.

“Hate sorting through this shit,” he muttered as he began to wander through the aisles.

Simon stood in the doorway for a moment, breathing in the scent of old paper and rotting ink. Usually he never had to go into that room; whatever paperwork that he did have that would go there he’d make someone else’s problem. Even then, he found himself searching, eyes scanning the labels on the boxes. Locations, names, dates, everything. Johnny caught onto his search, and watched him for a moment with careful eyes, but still refused to say anything.

“Aye, here we are,” Johnny sighed as he flipped the lid off of one of the boxes. He unceremoniously tossed the file into it before shutting it once again. “Right. Ready to get outta here?”

But when he turned to Simon, he saw the man’s attention was caught by one of the boxes. Salthouse | 8, December. The lid was already opened, and Simon stared blankly into it as if he wasn’t sure where to start.

“Ghost?” Johnny said softly.

Simon’s hands dove into the box decisively where his fingers grabbed onto a small, orange envelope. There was a slight thickness to it, like something had to be shoved in there to fit properly, or too many things had been stacked and folded on top of one another. He wasted no time undoing the brass clasp at the top and pouring the contents into his hand.

A plastic bag full of Polaroids tumbled out of the envelope, and Simon and Johnny were met with the image of your face. Beaten, irritated, and bloody, it was a different image than what they had seen last time, like whoever had collected it shuffled through the images in morbid curiosity. You laid on the ground on your back, no hand gripping your face, but still very obviously out of it. Passed out, probably, or at least on the verge of consciousness.

He wasn’t prepared for the anger that bubbled up inside of him upon setting eyes on those images again. So many regrets, things that he should have done differently. He should have been stronger, faster, deadlier. Should have made Bukin and Adakskin pay for everything they had done to you with more than just a bullet to the head. Should have ripped up that picture of you the moment he got the chance.

“Simon,” Johnny said again. It was rare that the man ever used his lieutenants real name, but it left him before he was able to stop it.

Ignoring him, Simon tossed the orange envelope back into the box before ripping open the plastic bag, nearly scattering the photos all over the ground. He gathered them up into his hands before marching off towards the back of the room, boots hitting heavy against the floor.

“What’re you doing?” Johnny asked, voice a bit more firm.

“No one needs to see these,” Simon responded within an instant. “Everyone knows what happened to her. No one needs to see her like this.”

He approached the shredder that sat against the back wall of the room. It was a large thing, made for shredding stacks of paper all at once with teeth that could eat an entire hand within an instant. A few Polaroids wouldn’t be an issue at all. The thing was, Johnny couldn’t even argue with Simon, because he felt the exact same way. So he stood there and watched as Simon powered on the shredder, gears whirring and whining.

Without remorse, Simon tossed the photos into the shredder and watched as the metal tore them to shreds with ease. Plastic crinkled and cracked until they were all eaten up and spat out into the bag that stored all the other scraps it had thrown up. The thing was, Simon was never very good at fixing things. No matter how hard he tried to be, he always ended up breaking things. His mother’s vase or a man's arm. He could pull a trigger and end someone’s life and yet he felt something convulsing inside of him at the thought of opening himself to you.

But this? This felt right. Destroying those pictures. There was enough evidence on your body and in your mind as it was. He tried so hard to be something else, anything else; but in the end, Simon was a brutal man whose hands were only capable of violence; might as well put them to good use.

tags: @ghostlythots @archonsabyss @crowbird @beware-my-thorns @koko-1025 @nessaasstuff @escapefromrealitysm @babygirl-riley @theloneshadow24 @ashableketchup @violet-19999 @paigetaylor628 @curlygirls-world @gaebestie @datlilwrench @ryisghost @suffering-and-happy-about-it @achelois-is-here

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