#not beta'd

[jester089]

Gotta say, massive fan of the work you’ve pumped out, especially for TADC (it came out two weeks or so ago and there’s this much already what?!)

That said, could you write for the gang (separately, I’m sorry l know it’s a lot) who’s s/o resisted abstraction? Like, they were halfway through but turned back through sheer will? *Insert John Wick reference* This has been ping ponging in my head for a while. Thanks for listening! XO

Glitchy pain

I've written for something like this before. And I wasn't sure if you wanted angst or fluff. But since what I wrote before was angst I'm gonna just donna do my ideas on this one. Also to anyone else who feels like requesting don't be afraid to ask for a lot of characters. My max is like 10 and only because Tumblr doesn't like super long posts. I honestly don't think I would have a max if not for that. But really from like 7 pm to 4 am I got a lot of free time and the want to write. So ask to your hearts content. TADC crew x (kind of) abstracted reader

Caine

Caine was floating around when he heard what sounded like a pained and glitchy scream? He quickly floats over to where he heard it from only to find you clutching your head crumpled up into a ball on the floor. He was about to float down and ask you what happened before he noticed the random glitches, black spiky flesh, and randomly colored eye balls all appearing and disappearing in the blink of an eye. So he backed off, a little sad over the fact you were abstracting but life goes on. Until you let out another pained scream, it was almost like the abstraction reacted as the second you screamed it reverted a bit and slowed down. It continues like that for who knows how long. You in a mental and physical battle with abstraction. Caine just staring completely taken back by what he was witnessing. After enough time you vomit a nasty and seemingly living blob of black goo onto the floor and pass out. Caine stares at your motionless body for a few seconds before snapping out of it. He puts the weird goo blob into the cellar and takes you back to your room. He doesn't even know how to react, so he sits there at your bedside waiting for you to wake up. Once you do he is relived to find it's still you, speaking in full sentences and everything. Sure your voice and body have the occasional glitch but overall you're ok. So he leaves you be, mostly. He still needs to study your code for how you did that. But past that and him being a bit more "walking on egg shells" around you, but nothing really changes. And not wanting the others to think your a threat, you and Caine don't tell anyone.

Gangle

Gangle was wandering around looking for you. Her comedy mask broke again and you were the only one who knew how to fix it properly. She could patch it up sure but it never lasted long. Much like Caine she heard you scream out, only difference being she recognized your voice. She quickly changed from casual and aimless stroll to sprint with reason finding you leaned against a wall holding your stomach looking like your about to throw up. She runs up to you and places a hand(?) on each side of your head staring into your eyes. She in a panicked voice asks "Are you ok?! What happened?!" You half shove her away a garbled and messy version of your voice half screaming out that it isn't safe. You quickly regret taking the energy to speak and move as a giant surge of pain jolts up your digital spine forcing you onto your knees. You let out another pained groan/scream as black goo starts oozing out of your mouth. It's only then that Gangle realizes your glitching! She panics and tells you to stay calm while she gets Caine. Gangle sprints off with a mission luckily finding Caine rather quickly. She especially screams at him to help her/follow her. He listens and follows her. When she gets back to where she left you, your passed out. But you aren't glitching anymore. And your not fully abstracted. She carefully walks over to you and sets a gentle hand (ribbon) on your face feeling a whole lot of relief when you half swat at her hand in your sleep. She'll watch you while you sleep making sure you aren't disturbed but when you're awake and she's sure you're ok you are going to be getting a whole lot of cuddles from her. Her comedy mask can wait.

Zooble

Zooble was missing a leg and was hobbling/jumping her way towards your room to ask if you'd seen it. She knocked on your door only to receive no response. She knocks again. Nothing. So she unlocks it with the spare key you gave her. She is stunned by what she sees. Obsessive scribbles covering your walls. Wall paper torn and dirtied. She takes a few cautious steps before finally hearing you say in a horrible sounding voice "P̵̛̣̤̪̑̈́̄͆̚p̴̹͇̆̑̐͠ṕ̷͔̼͙̅̀͐̿͋͜͝P̵̢͚̩̱̮̭̉͜͠l̵͔̟̰̘̼̹̼̯͉͆ḛ̴̣͈̖͛̈́̏̏͌̕͜a̴̢͇̣̮̠͕̮͆̾s̸̡͉̣̺̯͚̾̈́͋̃̑͊͘s̵̼͛̃͛̄̏̊̊͜͠ͅs̷̨̯̬̯͊e̵̢̪̜̗͙̞͈̠͌̔͠s̸̢͔̝̳̞͈̭̲͂͆̇̄͛́́͗ͅͅ ̴̗̻̳̗̜̙̹̘͒̒̑̅̂̎̚͘w̴̰̘͂͊̌̒͘w̸̢̦̑̍̈́͊W̷̨̄̑̌̂̚͝W̵̦̙͇̝̲̪̝̫̜̰̄͑̚w̶̮͐̏̀͊͠h̴̬̤̠̩̰͋͗̾̓̈́̍̅ó̴͍̭͇̯͚̮͔̽̓̔̈́ ̶̥̑͋͒̿̀Ê̶̼͎͇͍̳̯͌͋͐̓̋v̸̢͓̩͗͜͝v̴͇͇̮̻͖̪͕̰̹̫̔̌̎̇̑́ë̷̪̤̫̪͌͂̓̕͘e̵̢̨̱̘̗͙̘̱̱̩̎̾̀v̸͍̄͠ë̶̡̙̠̣̰̠́͜r̸͇̰͖̍͑͌̆̌ ̷̯̼͕͍̭̭̲͙̰̽̈́͝y̷̪͉͓͗̿̀̐̈̃̆õ̷̢̜̮̬͒̈́͒̿̀̽̈́͂̈́ǘ̸̡̟̭̩̠̜̬͙̃ṵ̴̭̮̹̯̺̜̤̈͂̽u̸̬̠͉̺͍̰͉̦͌̋́̃͌̊͘͜ ̵̲͖̩̹̲̊̐͂͝͝a̵̰̩̻̗͕͎̮͈̥̫͂̂̌̆̆̎̑a̴̭͒͐̏̎́́͝à̶̛̘̮͍̟̻͕̰̽̍͛̽̈́̃͛͝r̴͎͚͇̻̞̬͑̂̅̿͋̅̂͊̔ą̴̛̱̱̗̔̈́̈́̔͒̆̌͘͠r̵̺̰̬̹̮̬̘̜̈́̊͗͛̅̌͌͘͜ę̸̛̺̞͚̹̘̱̥̲̒̍̏̔͛̌̚ȇ̴̩.̶̛̖̙̦̝̹̰͔̉͂̆̉̐̾̐͠͝ ̵̘̙͎̼̻̩̬͖͌̉̾̂̄͜J̵͐̏̇̈́̑̃͜͝͝j̶̛̠̬̟̓͗͗͆̆̀̈́̿̂͜j̴̢͍̦͉̯͑̍̓J̷̨̧̢̳̟̠̯͖͖͚̐̈̏̓̈͐̎̐͝j̶̫̞̬͖̯̯̹̺̩͆̾̽́̈́̄ͅJ̵͖̘̫̓u̷̡̧͔̥͇͕͔̞̠̇͛̈́̎͂̌͂͘̕ş̶͕̫̎ṫ̷͈͖̲̩͉͌̅̍̈́́̿ ̷̠͕͕̖̜̻̯̻̖̃̏̀͂͑́l̷̳̣̼̓̈́̊̈́̈̎̀́̋̚͜L̶̡̜̣͔͔̼̠̗̎̇̈́̕Ļ̴̞̟̱̹͓̹̪͖͚̂̐͐̑̂͆̐̓̚͠ḽ̶̢̧̙̺̯͖̰͓͐͗̽̈́̃̔̀̾̕l̴̢̢̳̜̣̦̎́́̔̕̚e̷͔̫͉̘͉̓̓͋͊̀̿̄̕͝ͅã̷̡̢̝̮͔̮̰̱͒͌̈͊̾͂͠ͅͅv̷̗̼͎̠̝̋̓͒͛̂͐͜͜è̶̪̟̲̘̃̓ ̴̺̊̉͑̉̽̅́̕̕m̸̧̦͔̙͍̘̭̲̄͂m̸̧̫͎͌̀̃͜ͅM̴͍͍̫͚̺͚̪̺̿́̒͋̂͐̿͗̚͘m̴̛̘̼͔͑̿̏̅͌̊̾̕e̴̩̟͈̙͑̏͐̆̓͆̏̚͠͝ ̵̳̤͉͉͙̬̥̉̓́̀̓̃̀̌̊͜ͅḁ̶̧̗͈͍͍̉͂̀͆͗̾̆́̚͜͝l̴̜͓͈̄͌̓̈́̉͊͊̍͝a̵̲͒̋̂͐́̊̕̚͝â̶̢͕̫̘̮͈̻͕͙̩͑̂ḹ̵̨̮̓̓̊̍̕̚͝o̵͖͔̥̳̊̐̀͠n̵̺̥̲͔͔̿͋̊ë̶̯̤̻́̌̎̎́̾͋̄̄̋.̵̪̑͆̀̎" (Please whoever you are. Just leave me alone.) She cautiously walks over to your bed and peaks over it. Your laying there curled up into a ball torn and broken items surrounding you. Y-your abstracting?! B-but... Zooble doesn't even really register the fact. She's in shock from seeing you like this. (I mean I would be too) You let out an ear piercing scream and claw at your own face with enough force to tear the skin, if you weren't digital at least. The glitching gets much much worse for a few seconds before just, stopping. No rhyme or reason that she can see. But you can bet your a&$ that after like 5 seconds pass and you stop showing signs of abstraction she's going to huddle near your spitting out so many questions. Mainly ones like "ARE YOU OK!?!" and "Your still with me right?! RIGHT!?!"

Kinger

Kinger would more likely then not be there when your first started glitching. And that might make him officially lose it. Your the second person in this hell (Queener) who he felt close too. And he outlived you too. Still you aren't abstracted yet. Maybe their's still a chance! So he sprints off screaming out for Caine in a voice that is loud enough to make you go deaf if you were too close to him. When he finds Caine. And he will find Caine he grabs him by the shoulders and sprints towards where he last saw you. He basically throws Caine at your glitching form and yells at him to fix you! In that second you stop glitching Caine did nothing and Kinger will basically tackle you. He'll pick you up and hold you over his head like a spear and sprint towards your rooms. Once there he will set up the comfiest coziest pillow fort possible then get you all comfy inside. Once he's sure your at least mostly safe and he's at least mostly calmed down he'll ask you about what happened. (Despite him being pretty crazy I really do feel like out of everyone he would be the best at communication in a friend or relationship. I mean he's that crazy and yet he still has manners and knowledge about a lot. Tbh he might become my fav. Idk it's possible.)

Ragatha

You were helping out Ragatha with a surprise she was making for everyone to lighten their moods when you said that you feel kind of sick so you were going to call it a night. She nods thanks you for the help you gave then gives you a quick peck to the lips as a send off. Not to much to her surprise you choose to lay in her bed instead of yours. Just something you do when you don't wanna be alone. She shrugs it off and keeps working actually quite grateful that you decided to not leave, not fully at least. She keeps working but stops when she hears some very concerning noises coming from your sleeping body. She turns around to see you tossing and turning an abnormal amount in your sleep, as well as making a lot of noises that sound like when someone is choking on their own blood. Concerned she carefully walks over to check on you only to recoil when she notices the glitching. She trips over her own foot and falls over onto her back. She quickly but clumsily gets up and gets back to you. She shakes you a bit trying to wake you up, but you don't only concerning her more. She yells calls out for Pomni who pokes her head through Ragatha's door a second later. Ragatha nearly screams at her to go get Caine. Pomni startled by Ragatha's tone turns heel and runs off to look for Caine while Ragatha stays with you. She keeps whispering things like "You're gonna be ok" and "Pomni's getting Caine just hang in there". Always keeping a hand on you not caring when it starts glitching out too. When Pomni returns with Caine, Ragatha full on yells at him to help you. He looks at you, then back at her, then with a apologetic tone says their isn't anything he can do as abstraction is one of those things he doesn't have control over. Ragatha breaks into tears. So she's gonna lose you, she was even there. BUT SHE CAN'T F@%#&$* HELP?! She holds onto you like you're her last tether to reality. And you seem to get better. Your at the very least don't seem to be in pain anymore! So she squeezes you, really f&$%@#* hard happier then should be possible that your improving.

Jax

Jax found you in his room voice glitching you huddled over in pain. At first he thought it was a revenge prank and acted accordingly. "Haha, very funny Y/N. Now get out of my room I need to do something." That is until you vomited up a ton of pitch black goo. Then he started taking it more seriously. He quickly crouches down and wraps an arm around you to try and provide some support. He freaks out and quickly pulls his arm back when you vomit up more goo and starts visibly glitching. He panics and quickly looks around his room locking onto a like 3 day old unopened water bottle. He opens it and hands it to you as well as a thing to squeeze that half yells to just hang in there he'll be right back. He sprints around not even knowing who to get. He sees Ragatha and half tackles her. He shouts directly into her face that you need help and that you in his room. He tosses her in the direction of his room then continues sprinting around not long after finding Caine. He grabs Caine ignoring his protests and runs back to his room where he fins Ragatha sitting next to his bed you tucked in. Your not vomiting anything and you aren't glitching. You're just shivering. He hears you mumble his name and literally kicks Ragatha and Caine out quickly getting to your side. After he feels he wont get hurt he quickly gets into bed holding you close "If you ever do that again I'm going to take back my vow to not tease you." He falls asleep with his chin resting on your head.

Pomni

At first when you started glitching Pomni didn't really know it was abstraction. She's never seen someone abstract after all, only seeing the finished product. But when you keep getting worse and worse she realizes that something is wrong. So she leaves you with a quick kiss then runs off to the communication thing Caine made after the whole Kaufmo incident. She calls him and when he picks up she screams into the phone that your glitching out. When Caine appears next to her she runs back over to where you are not even checking if Caine is following. When she gets back to you, you're still in really bad shape. She turns back to Caine and yells at him to help you. When he tells her that he can't she starts hyperventilating, then she sees him pick you up and the cellar hole open?! OH F&#$ NO! She basically punches Caine then clings to you protectively, ready to throw hands with Caine if she has to. Caine tries and pull her off when she starts glitching but she has the grip of a professional rock climber. So Caine has to keep curing her glitches at they appear. Cause in his mind your beyond help but she isn't. Then you start to improve. No more coughing and the glitching has slowed down! Pomni glares at Caine then turns back to you with a scared and tired smile on her face. Once your ok enough to talk you are going to get an earful. WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL HER YOU WERE FEELING BAG ENOUGH TO ABSTRACT?!?!?! (Sorry this was so long. I got a little carried away. And surprisingly I'm pretty proud of this one. I hope you enjoyed it!)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #gangle x reader #zooble x reader #kinger x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #noob author #not beta'd

[syrupgirl]

Sorry if you have done this before but maybe you could do a neteyam x reader and he is introducing you to his family ?

Love ur work btw

a/n: I did change this a lil so I hope it’s still ok, so reader knows the Sully’s vaguely and has only been known as a friend to Neteyam but now he is introducing reader as his potential mate. Also thank you for your compliments :p <3

(sum more notes at the end <3)

reader uses she/her prns and her body stays un-described

Mate material -Neteyam

“Is this really necessary, Neteyam,” You whined, sulking behind him. “They already know who I am, I feel like I’m meeting them again.”

He smiled and continued to wade his way toward the shore.

“Well, you are in a way. They will be seeing you in a different light now.” This man. He has some cheek.

Water whipped around your ankles as you ran after him. Taking Neteyam’s hand in yours, you spun him around and tugged on his arm repeatedly.

“Do we have to tell them? Why can’t they…Just figure it out on their own?.” You felt like child now, complaining over something so simple, but that’s how being with Neteyam made you feel; all fuzzy and floaty on the inside. Things were simple and easy when you were with him.

He finally stopped waking and took his arm out of your hand, replacing it with his hand.

“I understand if you are nervous, they can be,” he paused as if to take a moment to find the words. “intimidating when they want to be.” It came out as a laugh.

You snorted, “Your mother in particular.”

“She loves you!”

“She likes me as your friend, she might not as a mate!”

Neteyam sighed and pulled you closer; he could tell this was really bothering you.

“It’s not like there has been some, huge, drastic change. We’re still us, just…A more together version of us.”

A reluctant smile bloomed on your lips. “You sound stupid.”

“Ah.” You giggled as he pushed you away in mock offence.

“I take back what I said, you should be terrified.”

“Neteyam!”

-

Eclipse had come and the Sully family were gathered in their Marui, happily feasting on their dinner.

All that could be heard was the crackling of the fire and chewing of food, until Lo’ak took it upon himself to break that silence.

“So, big bro, what happened with yn today?”

Suddenly, all eyes were on the eldest Sully. A small smirk jumped onto Kiri’s lips and she quickly went to cover it with her hand and Tuk looked genuinely worried for your health. Lo’ak had a shit eating grin on his face; he knew what he was doing.

Neteyam gulped, disguising it was swallowing a mouthful of his dinner. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I saw you two getting awfully close in the water.” Neytiri looked as if she had finally checked into the conversation, putting down her meal and looking to her sons.

“I just thought maybe, she might have been hurt?”

Like a hunter watches their prey, his family set their gaze on him, silently hungering for more information.

In an effort to appear cool headed, Neteyam shrugged. “She was fine, not hurt.” He looked to his brother and shot him a look, “Why do you ask?”

“Oh no, just curious.” It looked like Lo’ak would leave it now and Neteyam internally sighed in relief.

“How is yn, Neteyam? Haven’t seen her in a while.” Jake asked. Oh well, the questioning wasn’t over.

-

“I think they are onto us.”

You let those words sit in the air they were spoken into.

Neteyam’s arm tightened around you and you turned more into his chest. The pool of water around you wrinkled gently with your movements.

The two of you had stashed yourselves away in a lone terrace, not unlike the ones that bordered the lagoon outside the village, but this one was a secret place for you both. Where you could be with each other without worrying about prying eyes or annoying brothers.

Finally, you answered him, “What makes you say that?”

Neteyam sat up more, causing you to be partially shoved off of him.

“Lo’ak started asking me these annoying questions while we were eating dinner last night!” He looked like he was a getting really upset; brows furrowed, arms waving wildly, voice raising.

You frowned and caught one of his flailing hands. “What kind of questions?”

“Just stupid ones! Like, why we are spending so much time together and why we were getting so close to each other yesterday in the wate-”

“Be calm, Neteyam. Slow down.” You brought his hand to your chest. “Breath, deep breaths.”

Neteyam stopped his ranting and sighed out a long breath. As best as he could, he copied your breathing.

“Now, explain to me why this bothers you so much?”

He is still for a moment, looking a little embarrassed. “He’s putting his nose where it doesn’t belong, it is just not his business.”

You snort at that, “Are we not about to announce our relationship to your family? Honestly, it’s not a surprise that one of them found out before.”

Neteyam sighed again. He turned to face you and gently took your face into his hands, looking between your eyes.

“I want it to be on our terms, not because of Lo’ak’s prying.”

“I understand that,” you hummed. Your hand covered one of Neteyam’s on your face and you leaned into it. “Sounds like we need to act on our plans a little faster.”

A kiss was planted on your forehead and you smiled giddily.

“I don’t want to push you, I know you are a bit nervous.” He mumbled into your hairline.

Your free hand found his face and brought him back to where you could look him in the eyes. Your thumb glided back and forth along his cheekbone and his eyes drifted closed.

“I’m a big girl, I can handle it.”

-

It really felt like you could not handle it.

The sun was high in the sky, beating down onto your skin. On a day like this, you would usually be bobbing up and down in the waves, happily soaking up the rays, but on this occasion all it was doing to you was elevating your already rapidly growing panic.

You and Neteyam sat on the woven walkways not to far from his marui. Today was the day where you would finally announce your relationship to his family. A monumental occasion really; the eldest son of Toruk Makto and former leader of the Omatikaya, had found himself a partner, a mate, that he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

You had met the Sully family many times before, you regularly spent time with Lo’ak and Kiri, even spending time with little Tuk. But now, you were seeing them on such different circumstances, they might as well have been strangers.

“What’s the worst that could happen?” Neteyam had offered, an effort to quell your growing nerves, unfortunately this just spurred into motion all the thoughts of things that could happen; ranging from awkward silences to Jake and Neytiri chasing you out of their marui for trying to take their firstborn away from them. Extremely unlikely and just downright stupid, but you were just grasping at straws for anything that could go wrong.

“Why can’t- why can’t you just tell them while I am far, far away?” Neteyam laughed heartily at that but you were deadly serious.

“Oh yes, I can see it now,” Neteyam gasped between giggles, “hey mom, hey dad, you know yn? yeah I want her to be my mate. Where is she? Anywhere you aren’t.” His laughed picked up at his own joke and you groaned, hitting his chest with your balled fist.

“I love your family, Neteyam. I really, really want this to go well!”

“And it will! We’ve had this same conversation over and over, i don’t know how else I can reassure you.” He reached his arm around your waist and dragged you closer to him. “Would you like me to tell you in english? I know a little.”

Neteyam said something you didn’t understand. The language sounded so silly you couldn’t help but cover your mouth to hide your giggles.

“Should we get going? They should all be home now.”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

-

“Neteya- oh, and yn?” Jake paused. “How are you, yn?”

The entire Sully clan, excluding Neteyam, were all seated around the cooking fire inside the marui. Jake and Neytiri parked up close to each other: Jake prepping fish for cooking and Neytiri wrapped then placed it above the fire in front of them.

Kiri and Tuk sat next to their mother. The older girl attempted to teach the youngest how to repair a torn Ilu saddle.

Lo’ak lay next to his father, apparently completely uninterested in whatever was happening around him, until the two of you entered together, after which he sat up looking infinitely intrigued.

Tucking your arms behind your back, you squeezed your hands together and mustered up a smile.

“I am well, thank you, Toruk Makto.”

Jake continued to de-bone the creature he was holding before speaking to you again, “To what do we owe the pleasure?”

You glanced to Neteyam, the nervousness you had buried starting to resurface again. He took a deep breath and reached behind you, taking your hand tightly in his.

Neytiri, who hadn’t looked entirely phased by your presence, suddenly perked up. Her eyes fell onto your intertwined fingers and then back to your face. It felt as if your heart was beating a mile a minute.

“Actually, sir, there’s…something I want to tell you.” Neteyam’s voice had an uncharacteristic nervousness to it and you could feel the smallest shake in the hand that held yours.

The whole family froze, each with sightly different looks on their faces. Lo’ak looked like he was on the verge of hysterical laughter, Kiri had her own little smile while Tuk was ready to hang off of your every word.

“What is it, Neteyam?” Neytiri asked. She stood and Jake followed suit.

The grip on your hand tightened before Neteyam spoke, “Yn and I, we wish to be mated. Before Eywa.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the family before you reacted. Lo’ak, who had been quietly munching on his dinner, suddenly started to choke and thumped his fist against his chest in attempts to dislodge the obstruction.

Tuk and Kiri had the same reaction, shouting “What?!” at the same time. Tuk visibly more excited about the news, while Kiri looked like this was the stupidest thing she had ever heard.

“My son, you are not yet a man.” Neytiri urged, slowly pacing towards her eldest.

“I have passed two of the three rites of passage of our clan! And now that we live amongst the reef people, I can complete the three by passing one of theirs!” The two of you had anticipated these concerns and had done your research on the matter. Since the Sully’s no longer lived among their own, the three tasks Neteyam had to complete to be welcomed into the Omaticaya as a man were no longer possible. It seemed only fitting that he finish of these tasks by overcoming the Metkayina’s last rite of passage that their men had to accomplish.

“Taking a mate is a serious thing, son.” Jake was now face to face with Neteyam. He had a stony look on his face. “I know you’re friends with yn, evidently a bit more than that, but this will be the person you spend the rest of your life with.”

Coming up beside her son, Neytiri put a hand on his shoulder. “Your father is right, Neteyam. These decisions cannot be rushed.”

By Eywa, you wished the ground would just swallow you whole.

Neteyam noticed your embarrassment and doubled down. “I know that, we know that! We have been talking about this for a long time and we’ve thought of everything.”

His father narrowed his eyes, he still didn’t look convinced, so you decided oh well, you already ready feel like you were in over your head, what’s a little more?

“If I may,” All eyes turned to you, “your son is the most caring, most passionate, and most mature man I have ever had the pleasure of knowing. He is infinitely understanding and loves with all he has. I cannot speak on his behalf, but I trust in the decision I have made to have Neteyam as my mate.” Your words continued to get smaller and smaller as your felt their stares bore into you.

Silence filled the space, broken up by the soft sound of crashing waves and the chittering of stray Ilu.

Neytiri spoke first.

“This is truly what you want, my son?” The mother laced her hands with the sons free one.

“More than anything I have ever wanted in my entire life.”

A look was shared between Jake and Neytiri and their children stared on.

“Neteyam,” Jake sighed, “I give you my blessing to pursue your remaining rites of passage by the Metkayina.” His hand reached up and latched onto the back of Neteyam’s head, bringing it closer to his own.

“My son, I see you.”

Your partner’s lip quivers and his brows told upward, it is clear he is using everything in him not to cry.

“And you, yn.” Jake turned to you, bringing his hand up to his brow and then back down again. “I see you.”

You repeated his gesture and sniffed, emotions running very high. “I see you, Toruk Makto.”

Jake smiled. “No need for the formalities, not now that we’re family.”

The rest of that night was filled with light and laughter. With songs and delicious food. You couldn’t think of a better way to be welcomed into this beautiful family.

Your heart had never felt so full.

a/n: so we only know 2 of the Omaticaya’s rites of passage and judging from how Neteyam has a banshee, it’s safe to assume he had begun the process of becoming a man in the clan. I don’t know if he had done his dream hunt so i just said he had🤷‍♀️yeah this took so long because I did a chunk of words every few days💀 anyways until next time, bye :p

#not beta read #not beta'd #avatar fanfiction #avatar #neteyam x reader #neteyam #avatar imagine #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam imagine #avatar way of water #avatar x reader #lo’ak #jake sully #neytiri #tuktirey #kiri #avatar 2 #my mighty warrior <3 #neteyam sully #avatar the way of water

[ena-113]

A human crewmate, Mia, held a long thin box. It seemed to have paper and plastic peices inside, based on the sound. A puzzle perhaps? A few other crewmates trailed behind them.

"Hey Bob! Wanna join us? We're playing Clue, it's a board game from earth."

Bob nodded and joined the others trailing after Mia. He had no idea what a 'board game' was, but it seemed fun. They eventually all gathered around a table in the cafeteria.

"Okay, so it's a murder mystery and we have to figure out who killed Mr. Body. We're all possible suspe-" Mia started to set up the board and explain, but was cut off by Jli'yan.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, but why do humans have a game centered on murder and distrust?"

"Cause it's fun, thrilling. Good for poker face practice." Kaya answered, shuffling cards. They then nodded towards Mia to continue explaining.

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#I was originally gonna do monopoly #but decided against it #clue is more fun #nonlinear narrative #not beta read #humans are space orcs #humans are space badgers #humans are space oddities #humans are deathworlders #humans are confusing #humans are space australians #humans are insane #humans are space raccoons #humans are space capybaras #humans are space fae #board games #game night #not beta'd

[cas-backwards-tie]

Under The Moonlight

Vladimir Makarov x Reader

Summary: You think the Commander hates your taste in music. Why is he so judgmental about what you listen to in your free time? Turns out... maybe you were caught up on the wrong thing.

Words: 2.3k

Warnings: (Vlad should probably be a warning in of itself), Passive-Aggressiveness? , Spying, Grabbing,

A/N: Ugh... I love (and hate) this song bc it gets stuck in my head so easily and it gives me such fantasy vibes. I can't help but imagine wedding vibes and him with this song every listen. btw put two diff versions in links bc those are 2/3 that I have and listen to.

"You know Arabic?" He'd asked. The first time he'd stumbled upon you listening to the song, more than curious when you'd also been singing along. With a shake of your head and a slight smile of embarrassment simultaneously dusting your cheeks with blush, this only makes his eyebrows furrow. "Then how do you know the words?"

The laugh that tumbles past your lips does nothing but further turn up the heat on the already boiling frustration and inconsequential meltdown that will no doubt later take place. "By listening to it," you answer, an inkling of a smile returning in spite of his fury, "over, and over... and over again."

With an annoyed puff of breath you know he's done with you, about to make his leave. "Why?" You ask. For once, you've swapped places as your curious eyes seek out his form.

"Because it would be useful information to know." Ever the cryptic, of course that's all he leaves you with before turning his back to you, arms crossed over his chest as he exits the room.

The second time he hears the song, he's in between meetings. It's one of those rare days where he has a little free time, not that he knows how to spend that sort of thing anymore. Having entered the library, he can hear the radio playing the Arabic song once more. Your voice joins it, again, and Vladimir finds himself subtly eyeing his surroundings as the corners of his lips twitch, tugging at a smile.

He schools himself, able to keep himself in line. While the bookshelves keep him out of view and no one's in the vicinity, he quietly strolls through the stacks, hand grazing the many novels. It seems that now you've been here longer, you're starting to get more comfortable. Even if your voice isn't the loudest, the quiet nature of a library certainly doesn't help as it carries your voice, he's sure, outdoors to the nearby stationed guards.

Once he's around the nearest bookshelf, he peeks far enough just to see your visage. From this, alone, can he paint a picture. Hand still on the page, he imagines you'd been reading, the radio on quietly as background noise, no doubt something you've continued to use since you've yet to get used to the quietness his climate provides. Thus, the radios around the Compound offer solace. He's noticed you around them often. In your focus amidst the book, you'd been distracted by the song, a familiar tune on the radio beckoning your attention. Of course, not being one to resist temptation, you couldn't resist turning it up and singing along.

He can't deny you're awful. Otherwise, he'd probably have to shoot you. It'd grow to be a nuisance, really... and dangerous, a warning signal no doubt. Yet, there's an innocence about you when you sing. Mocha-colored eyes roam your features as he watches, mesmerized, your eyes closed, as your upper body moves to the music from your chair. The smile that graces your lips is one to remember, and it's one that has him equally awed, and yet... in amusement.

"You really don't understand?" With a swift turn, Vladimir reveals himself from the bookshelves, his hands clasped behind his back casually. The gasp and jump that he'd elicited from you does nothing more than garner a chuckle from him.

"Why do you care?" You ask, hand still resting on your heart as you attempt to catch your breath. Staring at him with wild eyes, it boggles you, the way you feel like he's asked you this before. It takes a moment, as it's been at least a month or so, but you remember that he has. He's asking again. "It's not like you know," you tease, poking him back. If there's anything you'd learned early on, and he'd learned about you... it's that you love to play with Vladimir by matching fire with fire. And, equally, he too, loves to do so.

"Actually, I do, любимая," he quips. With slow and calculated steps he begins approaching the table, eyes raking over you once and then twice. "and I don't! I can assure you. I only find it amusing how you seem more than content to sing something which could mean anything... according to you."

While he stops to close the book atop your hand, inspecting the spine and choice of leisure, you suspect. You place your hand atop his, afraid he's going to take the book. It's only when he meets your gaze briefly, long enough to narrow eyes at you before immediately departing for the door a few feet behind you. "Wait!" You call after him. Turning in your seat, a hand comes up to rest against the bulbous ear of the chair; thudding boots abruptly come to a halt as the Commander stops, albeit he doesn't turn around. "What does it mean, then?" You ask, words getting quieter as you start to lose confidence the further the moment continues.

"I'm sure you'd love to know." That's all he leaves you with. Dissatisfied and annoyed with the pettiness and childlike behavior the Commander can sometimes exhibit, you ignore him whenever you can. After all, while he may have originally intrigued you, whatever curiosity you had is not worth whatever outcome you receive in the aftermath of one of his moods.

When you finally find out what the song means, it's at a moment you were completely unexpecting it. After a successful mission, you'd all celebrated by building a big bonfire at camp, sitting around after dinner, sharing stories, and drink. It's not every day you get to let loose, and while normally there's a fairly tight schedule to work around, you know better to take advantage of a free day when you can. With this in mind, you drink to your heart's content. After all, it's on the Commander, right? Listening to the stories, your head leans back against the wooden makeshift benches as your eyes find the bright stars above.

It may be an effortless attempt to map them out, or mentally draw out the constellations you know, but as you listen to the jokes, the stories, songs, and laugh along, it isn't until there's a momentary silence that you finally raise your head again. Scanning around the fire, you notice that everyone's gone to bed, it seems. And sure, while it's been a long day and it'd been getting late, you didn't think everyone would've left so soon. Yet, your eyes are drawn to the only other pair you see, staring at you from a few feet to your right. The last person left at the fire.

"You're not tired?" He asks, and it's weird. It's like there's no mask up this time. You're not sure if it's the alcohol playing tricks on you right now, or if you're really hearing him correctly, but he almost sounds... genuine.

Head leant back against the wood once again, you let it loll to the right, finally able to meet his gaze. The flames make his eyes shine brightly, his features illuminated in a fiery glow. His hair is slightly amess, some strands not falling in the same direction as the wind has blown them around. Nose and jaw sharply outlined by the shadows of the night, you can't help but feel warmth, and not because you're both sitting right in front of the fire. Eyes having roamed his features, they finally meet his again as he turns his gaze from the fire once more to you, clearly anticipating an answer.

With a shake of your head, you do nothing to stop the way your lashes slowly flutter, the mere thought and mention of sleep threatening. As you lift the bottle in your hands to your lips again, wanting to finish the last little fifth or sixth of drink left in it, you're met with a disgruntled hum. "I think you've had enough."

The words should be a warning to you. A loud and clear signal as to what was about to happen, and yet you hadn't put two and two together in your intoxicated state of mind. "Mm-mm. 'Slmost finished," you manage to slur out. Lifting the bottle again, Vladimir is quick to stand, closing the space between you as he snatches it out of your hand and tosses it into the fire. The glass breaks, flames fanning higher momentarily as he reaches under your armpits and lifts you up. There isn't much of a struggle considering you can't put up much of a fight in your state.

"It's time you get some sleep," he states, wrapping an arm around your back as he attempts to guide you to a tent. He guides you outside of the fire circle until you don't move. And while he's a strong man, perhaps it's the drink, or he doesn't know what, but you're being as stubborn as a rock.

"What's it mean?" You ask. This takes him aback; the Commander knows you're not ignorant, and while you may be drunk, there's certainly no way that vodka, or any sort of liquor no matter the quantity is capable of erasing such a simple fact as the meaning of sleep. While he takes a step back, eyes beginning to search for signs of injury, it isn't until he follows your gaze that he understands.

Albeit the distant snoring, the wind, the roaring fire, and crunching of both your boots, he hadn't realized. It was quiet, the radio on the other side of the firepit. The device had been left on, and while the two of you had stayed awake he hadn't paid too much mind to it, yet now he can't help but smile. Of course, of course of all moments this song would play. Right now.

"You really want to know?" Vladimir asks, not backing away as he towers over you, eyes meeting your face in the darkness as he waits for your attention to find him again. After all, perhaps with the way he's been the one to hear you all these little times, maybe... just maybe it could be a sign.

Ridiculous, of course. That's what he told himself for months now, too good to be true. He knows what he's done... what he's had to do. What he will do and must, not just for himself but for his people, for the planet, in order to not only survive, but bring the world to a state that will be beneficial for all. Nevertheless, they always say there's a price one must pay for such deeds. He knows this true... and while he might have dreamt at times of other lives and wanted for other things, those boy's dreams were crushed long ago.

That was... until the radio started playing that song only moments ago. As he scans your face, eager and almost impatient for you to turn your eyes on him, when you do, it's not what he expects. The scoff that meets him leaves him taken aback. Met with an eye roll, and an attempt to walk past him. He knows. He knows he can be rough, and while it might be harsh he grabs your arm and keeps you from walking any further away. Whatever prize he thinks he's found, whatever omen, sign, or soul tie... he's not letting this go. He's not letting you go.

"I know you're just gonna trick me again, okay?" While other times he might be delighted to hear that you think he'd play games with you, nothing but stoicism sits on his features.

Bringing you in close, he searches your eyes as he whispers. "The love words of his eyes are sweeter than songs." Vladimir cautiously places a hand on your waist, the one holding your arm releasing its grip as it slides up to rest on your shoulder. "From a couple of words, from a greeting, I become someone else. When he sways, my heart sways with him. I may sacrifice my eyes and whole life for him, and it's too little." He repeats the words, the two of you gently swaying in the moonlit camp as the music quietly accompanies him in the background through the aged radio.

"My night, oh, night, my night." It feels as if with each passing moment his voice somehow gets quieter and quieter if that was even possible, yet you're already so impossibly close. "Oh night, my night, his love makes the night longer. The love of years between him and I. Just one more step, my heart, it's not a fantasy." Your noses just barely brush against each other, breath mingling in the space between you.

"My soul just go with him and get lost in his beauty. His covets the magic of life, his charm extraordinary. The one whose eyes the moon envied. The smile is the shining sun." There's no denying the heat between you, the tension thick in the minimal space between you, both of your eyes closed as you revel in this moment. Yet, he knows he shouldn't. You wish he would. As the song comes to an end on the radio, he's the first to open his eyes, eager to watch your open yours. As you do, it's the same happiness and adoration that he's seen you with on your expression even when you had no idea what the song had meant.

You might not have known what it meant... but something about the vocals and the expression of the song had just given you the sense that it had been about exactly everything Vladimir had just described to you. "Thank you," you whisper, not quite ready to leave this moment. Not ready to leave his arms.

Zziiippp!!!

The sound of a tent opening nearby causes both of you to distance yourselves, something within each of you sobering up instantly. While, sure, he's the Commander and can have anything he wants... you both know things are better this way.

____________

translations:

любимая = loved one / darling / lovely

forever taglist: @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo ,@ohdamnadam

#cod mwiii x reader #cod mw3 x reader #vladimir makarov x reader #call of duty modern warfare 3 x reader #makarov x reader #cod mwiii makarov #cod mw3 makarov #my writing #my fics #cod fanfic #cod x reader #not proofread #not beta'd #song fics #song fic

[kimchikrust]

The Same Coin (1.4k)

Following the Racoon City incident, Leon met you in his drill squad. You gave him the cold shoulder from day 1.

"I know your history, Kennedy," you sneer, leaning back on your hip. You're both still in your gear, caked in mud and reeking of sweat, but Leon can't get through his drills when you're not communicating with him.

It took less than a week for him to call you on your pettiness.

"You got real lucky once, and they considered you qualified. Some fucking bullshit." Taking long strides towards him, you shove your helmet into his chest. "You're gonna get yourself, and the rest of my team killed."

You must've felt bad after you shoved past and left him holding your helmet (or you were caught and reprimanded) because your communication skills notably worked for him the following day. You were stern and unforgiving in tone whenever you gave orders, but Leon performed well and kept quiet about your standoffish personality.

A few squad members tried to vouch for your character once the tension became noticeable, but Leon didn't experience any changes until his first assignment.

It all went to shit, but it had nothing to do with your team and everything to do with misinformation about the situation. The original directive was abandoned almost immediately as your squad members got picked off by the hoard of undead monsters.

Leon took a moment to respect your quick adaption and headshot precision once realization settled in through his adrenaline. You looked as familiar as he felt, and within hours of your deployment, only three of you were left. You, him, and Sergeant Hendy.

"Fuck!" You spit angrily, covering your flank as the sergeant was briefly overwhelmed. "Pick it up, Sarge!"

Leon felt the urge to grab the soldier's collar and drag his ass back, but you bark 'Negative, Kennedy." You even go as far as dropping your gun to run for it with Leon in tow – effectively using the sergeant's death to your advantage.

"We could've saved him," he murmured bitterly once the danger was gone and you were waiting for exfil. You had been silent since abandoning Sergeant Hendy, communicating only when necessary and relaying information from the radio.

"He was compromised," you respond, void of emotion and attachment. "It was him or us."

"He wasn't bit-" Leon started to snap back, but you silenced him with a look. An expression mixed with anguish and fear that you tried to cover up with a steely gaze, and Leon could see right through it.

"You can blame me all you want, but I made a call." You turned your head away from him, and he couldn't see your face, but he could hear the lump in your throat. "And I'll have to live with it, but- It could've gone a lot worse if we did anything different."

He earns time off after that mission, accepting a luxurious apartment stationed in D.C. for the time being until his skills are required again.

It's nearing midnight when Leon gets a phone call from an unknown number. He's cautious when he answers. Who would be calling him this late?

"Kennedy. Want to grab a drink?" Leon almost drops his phone when your voice echoes in the receiver.

"You realize how late it is?" He runs his free hand over his face as he glances at the digital clock at his bedside. He could hear your environment in the background and deduced you were already a few drinks in, stretching his legs over the edge of the bed until his feet met cold hardwood.

"Did I wake you up?" You didn't sound apologetic or even curious, like you knew the answer. Leon kept quiet, hoping to move past the question as he threw on jeans and a clean shirt, but he heard you hum in drunken amusement. "Thought so. At a bar on West Marshall. I'll let you know when you get here."

You don't, but it's a pretty dead area, and there's only one bar at the end of the street. It doesn't take Leon much effort to locate you by yourself in the corner, fiddling with a shot glass and a half-empty bottle of rum.

"Kennedy, let me pour you a shot." You're quick to serve a hefty amount, but Leon carefully declines.

"I'll take a whiskey," he tells the bartender while sliding into the seat next to you. He's tempted to stop you when you shrug and toss back the shot like water, but your actions are smooth, and you don't look very drunk. "What's the occasion?" Because there has to be a reason you're getting shitfaced by yourself and randomly calling him up, but Leon's smart enough to keep that insight to himself.

"We're celebrating," you drawl, voice cracking as you shake while pouring your next shot. Leon notes how unfocused your eyes are and the beads of sweat forming along your hairline. "As of today, I am officially a Federal Agent."

You roughly knock your shot against his glass before downing it without flinching. Leon takes his sip, but his eyes never leave your face. He can't read anything.

"This is all I've wanted for ten years." Your voice is wavering, and your eyes are suddenly glossy. A scoff makes your shoulders bounce, and you're a little too loose when you fall forward, but you catch yourself. "All it took was my whole fucking squad."

You tilt the bottle back and take large swigs of rum, and Leon decides to stop you there. His arm reaches out to take your wrist, but your other hand smacks him away.

"I could be blacked out and still kick your ass, Kennedy." You end your statement with a hiccup, followed by giddy-drunk laughter, and Leon chuckles gently at your mood swing.

You're drunk, he confirms to himself, watching you pat your pockets until you locate a worn-out box of cigarettes. You pluck one out before hesitating, warily glancing at Leon. You hold the box out to him in a silent question.

Leon shakes his head.

"Not for me."

"Good for you," he hears you murmur against the stick between your lips. Leon's not sure if you meant for him to hear, but he'll take your verbal hazing over the awkward silence. "Where is my- Fuck, there it is." You pull a lighter out next, and Leon imagines you smoke a lot off-duty.

You take a long drag, looking over the table before dragging an ashtray closer by your fingers.

"I owe you an apology," you say after an apparent moment of hesitation. You tap your cigarette against the tray, interested in watching the ash crumble away. "I've been an asshole."

Leon fails to stifle his laugh, earning a sour side-eye from you. "An understatement."

"I just- I hated you. I worked my ass off my whole career to even be considered for a task force. And the second I get it, they assign a rookie cop with almost no field experience to me."

"Yeah, I wasn't too thrilled about it myself," Leon agrees, taking a swig for solidarity.

"I thought I was getting set up to fail when they assigned you to me," you tell him, suddenly serious. "But I don't think I would've made it out alive if you weren't there. So, thank you. And I'm sorry."

You turn in your chair and hold your hand out to him, and Leon wonders if you're aware of your actions now. He smiles when he takes your hand, and you shake it for good measure.

A spark of interest flickers over your face before you pull away and hold your bottle to him to toast with.

Leon laughs as he satisfies you, bumping the bottom of his glass against yours and taking another sip. He eyes you the whole time, gulping down the last of the bottle with a pained sigh once it's finished.

"There, you drank on it," you point out, and Leon looks at you curiously. "We're settled. Shook on it, then drank."

"That's a thing?" Leon frowns as you bob your head up and down. "No, it's not."

"No, it is," you insist, gently drumming your hands against the counter. "It settles disputes better than knocking the other person's teeth in."

"Oh, really? Who the hell told you that?"

"My grandma."

Leon nodded, grateful he decided to take you up on your offer for a drink. "She sounds like a smart woman."

"Yeah," you hum with a dopey smile, reaching for your pockets and signaling the bartender to pay. "She would have liked to meet you."

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x you #resident evil x you #resident evil imagine #mary on a cross - diana #not beta'd

[suraemoon]

It Couldn’t Be Better

Elvis x Reader - snippets of Elvis’ first Christmas with your family

Warnings: None really, just fluff and flirting

WC: 3.8k (was supposed to a blurb idk what happened)

A/N: Look, I’m aware that this isn’t good and is all over the place. I’d spend a few more days on it if I could but today is Christmas (yay!) and it would make no sense to post it any other day. I put in my masterlist that this would hopefully be out by the 25th and here it is. It’s based on the prompts “It could be worse” and something along the lines of “a character’s parent makes them tacky christmas sweaters” Merry Christmas y’all!!!!! I LOVE YOU.

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“It could be worse.” Your voice radiates fake optimism as your manicured nails pick a piece of lint from the homemade, bright red knitted sweater on your upper half.

You look up from your quick maintenance to be met with Elvis’ scrunched nose and concentrated eyes as his hand pulls on his sweater's borderline turtleneck collar, a bright “Christmas tree” green to complement yours festively.

The sweaters were beautifully knit with white stripes going back in forth in turn with the chosen festive color. Glued on the knit were an array of tinseled pompoms and ironed on were different designs of patches. Smiles, hearts, stars, animals, santa’s, snowflakes, etc; they all looked like they’d be better suited on a girl’s poodle skirt. “Eh..I guess.”

Your mama had sent you two up to your bedroom to get ready in time for Christmas dinner with your whole extended family.

From her spot next to the stove in the kitchen, one that seemed permanent for her during the holiday season, Mama was cooking up her signature feast and the scent of food filled the air teasingly. The smell enveloped everyone and only built up anticipation for later in the day.

Earlier in the day, when the cold wind flowed in anticipation and the white snowflakes made themselves home, you and your boyfriend had been tasked with cleaning the whole house from top to bottom.

One of the most famous men in the country having his first Christmas at your house? Mama was quick to put a broom in his hand for she had the elder generational quality to not spend her time focusing on pop culture and society but instead what needed to be done in order to keep her home running smoothly, especially during the holidays.

“You need to wash my windows, clean my counters, sweep and mop the floors…”

You couldn’t stop a huff from leaving your lips at the housekeeping task for this was the first year that you desired to be in the kitchen, observant to her methods and helping when you can.

Your mother was easily the best cook you knew, she knew the kitchen like the back of her hand, and with your growing relationship with Elvis starting to become more and more serious, you started thinking about your own cooking skills…well the lack of.

One day you will be handed the baton of Thanksgiving and Christmas meals and there’s no harm in trying to learn the ins and outs of it now.

“You need to give the dog a bath, make sure every bedroom in the house looks neat…”

The urge to be a housewife never striked upon your young ambitious mind until you met Mr. Elvis Presley. He unknowingly had the ability to cooking, cleaning, and raising children seemed so much more desirable. A life centered around being his subservient, supportive wife seemed delicious when his hand was intertwined in yours. A few years ago, a younger and singler you would’ve called yourself crazy. Nowadays you just call yourself in love.

“You got it, ma’am.”

Elvis met this list of chores as long as Santa Claus’ list with a smile for he was a restless person always looking for something to do, always searching for an excuse to move, and you knew deep down that he missed his own mama telling him to do stuff.

Now, a few hours later, that genuine go-with-the-flow grin was replaced with the tug of his lip genuinely trying its best to exude politeness as his hand tugged on the collar of his christmas sweater again, the top of his pale collarbone teasing you in the process.

The sun was now lower in the sky but the clouds did not tire from dropping snowflakes anywhere they could. The warm light of your lamp illuminated your freshly tidied room.

It fit the comfort of the holiday spirit better than the sunshine of the early day where brightness flowed through every window as you cleaned them with a rag, the circular motion of your hand mirrored the making of a snowball. Now the view out of the window was a grayish storm of flurries, weather in which a warm sweater would come in handy.

To make light of an awkward situation, you decide to embrace it and do a quick spin in front of him, showing off your full festive outfit. The cranberry red of your oversized sweater is paired with a black leather mini skirt and black leather boots to match.

It’s an outfit that you wouldn’t usually ever wear for a family event like this. But your boyfriend's overwhelming presence: fingers that you knew would always intertwine with yours as if meant to be, an arm that would never fail to wrap around your waist, feet that would always gravitate towards being around you, it all filled you with an indescribable sense of confidence.

The pure sex appeal Elvis exuded 24/7, seemingly effortless as if the attraction comes with his nature, always inclined you to put your all into matching it’s magnetic energy. The spin stops and your feet go to tippy toes to reach up and kiss his sugar plum lips. “What do ya think?”

Elvis wets his lips as if your lipstick had a flavor and his eyes look you over your figure fully as he takes your hand to give you a quick little twirl. Instead of a full 360 it was more of two 180’s since he stopped a second to take a quick look at your back side.

A low whistle was the background music to the rest of your orbit and his cheeky little smile seemed to glow when in the presence of your maroon red lipstick. “I think I gotta see what’s under it. Gonna let me do a little inspection? Wanna make sure everything’s sitting right…working the way it’s sposed ta.”

“Elvis! It’s Christmas…gotta be family friendly.”

He chuckles as a response comes too quickly to brain, “I wanna get real friendly with you, honey.”

You hit his shoulder playfully, “Stop that.”

“Hey! It’s Christmas, honey. Thought we had to be family friendly and that hitting ain’t very holly jolly of ya. I’m surprised Santa didn’t give ya coal this year.”

“Oh please. I don’t think Santa would mind me putting ya in line for naughty thoughts.”

“I don’t think Santa would mind me bending ya over my knee for a smart mouth but…” He shrugs, putting his sleeves in his pants pockets.

You stick out your tongue at him and he laughs his beautiful laugh. Gliding as if on ice back to the mirror of your vanity, you apply some more blush to your cheeks. Getting a little too warm and secretly having the cheeky desire to show more skin, you subconsciously fold the ribbed collar of your sweater down a little bit.

When met with the black and purple of a hickey on the side of your neck, immediately the collar is put back in its original place, the fabric willing to revert back to how it was supposed to be worn and mocking you in the process as if saying “told you so”.

A whisper escapes your lip, “Jesus…”

Elvis perks up from the seat he has taken on your bed in response, for he loves an opportunity to talk to (and tease) his favorite girl, “Lord’s name in vain on his birthday?”

Your eyes, framed by black liner and an eyeshadowed lid, meet his through the mirror of the vanity, “Elvis what’d ya do to my neck? It ain’t ever been this much before.”

“Hmm…” His arms are at his sides, stabilizing himself against the plush of the comforter, and he looks simply adorable with his false pout as if thinking of a smart remark to respond with.

“Hm indeed.”

He chuckles, “Today about love ain’t it? You don’t wanna put ya collar down and show everyone how much I love ya?”

“Elvis…”

As if automatic, your eyes roll playfully and he decides to continue, “Not gonna show off that pretty little neck, huh? You always look pretty but you look even prettier when you’re all marked up…all claimed.”

“You’re too much.” You shake your head, trying to cool off the influx of red that has awoken on your cheeks.

“People wanna know which one’s E.P.’s girl? Oh, they’ll know. She got the love marks to prove it. She’s the only girl I wanna love on.”

Your soft hands go up to cover your face but they make sure to keep a safe distance in order to not mess up the canvas of progress you have made at the vanity. “Shoo…you’re too distracting. I gotta finish my makeup.”

“So…?”

“So…they’re staying covered.”

A few minutes later, he speaks again from a spot on your bed as you apply the finishing touches of your makeup. “No offense to your mama, honey, but…I don't think homemade holiday sweaters are really in trend. Not these ones at least.”

His slight frown gives way to a bright laugh, a sound prettier than the jingle bells adorning the sleeves of his sweeter.

“Everyone’s gonna be wearing one so we’re all gonna be weird together.”

“Mm.”

“Last year was polka dots…polka dots. So count yourself lucky you weren’t around for that.”

Your mother’s homemade knitted wool Christmas sweaters have been a longstanding tradition in your family since….forever. When asked, it was your great-great grandmother that started it years ago. Or was it your great-great-great grandma? No one would be surprised if the family’s Christmas sweater fascination started way back in the simple days of the cavemen when your neanderthal ancestors were in need of warmth and for some odd reason in addition to fire and sharpened sticks, they had the supplies to create tacky garments of clothing.

You and Elvis started dating in January, so this year was full of firsts with this cold December wrapping it up lovingly in a snug little bow.

When dinner was served at Elvis’ first Thanksgiving with your family, the unusual but warmly content silence around the large, wooden dinner table was interrupted abruptly by your mother’s sudden thought. A soft gasp called for hungry heads to look up from their plates.

You would think there was a lightbulb above her head or that an epiphany to solve world hunger was in her thoughts. Your mama looked at Elvis with a gleeful smile, “I’ve gotta ‘nother Christmas sweater to make this year!” You remember the way Elvis’ smile was apprehension coating in politeness, wondering what the hell she was talking about. Your mama made clothes? How has that never come up?

His blue eyes widened for a full second about two weeks later when he was sat quickly by your mother on the couch with a gift box practically shoved in his hands. “Sit, sit ,sit!” Your mama said as if a little kid again.

The same eagerness did not translate to when you sat down, as by now you knew the routine by heart. You got practically the same gift two weeks before Christmas every single year. Just different designs, patterns, and decor but in its essence the same gift filled with the same love. This was always around the time when mama gave everyone there sweaters either in person or by mail.

Now that you think about it…this giftbox looks suspiciously similar to the same one you opened last year. Is that why your mama made sure you were careful not to break it?

The ornaments on the tree, a brand new one from last year right next to one you crafted out of popsicle sticks and cardboard in kindergarten. The nostalgia and newness blended seamlessly on the forest green branches.

The opening of boxes takes attention away from the tree, a happy presence willing to blend into the background the best it can. Your perfectly wrapped and ribboned rectangle has not even been touched but you watch intently as Elvis tries to carefully peel the tape off the side of the box. Your mother wouldn’t have minded if he tore it to shreds. She would’ve told you off if you had dared, but with Elvis it would’ve been alright.

“Y-you really didn’t hafta get me anything, ma’am. It’s real kind of you.”

Your mother replies matter of factly, “Are you kidding? It’s Christmas! Of course I had to give my son-in-law something.” You and Elvis weren’t married. Not yet. But the law of the heart doesn’t care about physical papers. In the minds of your welcoming family, new people were accepted with open arms and once their hearts got on Elvis they never want him to go.

Elvis brings his attention to you for the first time in a while, lifting your chin up gently with his hands as he admires your face. “You already blessed me with your beautiful daughter. She’s better than any gift, no doubt.” A shade of pink flushes over your face as Elvis gives you a quick, soft kiss.

“Awww. My two little turtle doves. Well, I’m allowed to give ya more than one gift so go ‘head.”

When the top of the box is lifted off, a tiny sweet sounding gasp escapes Elvis’ lips as his eyes fall on the christmas sweater. “O-oh…wow, ma’am. It’s, it’s really somethin’.”

Mama watches intently, “Do ya like it?”

He could pass for a deer in headlights. “More than like it. I can’t wait to wear it for um..Christmas.”

You couldn’t help but giggle at the false enthusiasm and at this noise mom’s attention turns straight to you and the box on your lap, narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms, “Are you too cool in front of your boyfriend to open yours?”

Shaking your head, the faint sound of Christmas radio sings in your ears as you open your first gift of Christmas. It’s red to go with Elvis’ green. Youthful to contrast with a growing daughter, homey and nostalgic to compete with a fast, changing lifestyle.

Your smile is genuine as you reply, “Thanks mama. It’s really nice.”

All three of you share the most comfortable of silences. It wasn’t silent really, music flowed through the room and firewood crackled; the background ambience that makes any December day anymore special.

The memories of your mother and her cute interactions with your boyfriend (all of which showing she approved of him greatly) was interrupted by the voice of the man himself. All of sudden you were brought back where you were: in your room getting ready with the person you love the most on the 25th of December.

“You ready to go down, honey? I think I heard some people walk in.”

“Oh..yeah! Let’s go.” Taking his hand, you walk over to the door.

“Wait a second…” Your mind immediately goes to the lamp you left on but his mind is somewhere else completely. He leans down to kiss you, long and hard. The unexpected passion takes you back but your heels stay steady on the ground, all of your attention on kissing him back with the same fervidity. His calloused hand is on your soft cheek and your fingers flow through his black hair. You want the moment to never end but like all things in life it inevitably does.

“Now we can go.” His smirk is teasing and playful. He knows the effect he has on you. He knows by your red cheeks and wide eyes how weak he can make you.

“I-” Practically speechless you just nod and take his hand, walking shakily out of the door. He laughs at the sudden urgency, slapping your behind playfully as you walk in front of him.

When your face, your whole body for that matter, started to become less warm and all of the many happy greetings to family and friends were finished, the evening was going splendidly. Laughs and cheer filled the space and joy at being back together radiated off of everyone in the room.

This year, you started to become more aware of not only yourself but your surroundings. What would this look like to a fly on the wall? What would it look like to a man attending his first Christmas with the loved ones that you have grown up being accustomed to? The Christmas tree shined brightly, decorated with a mismatched array of ornaments that went together perfectly. Every seat had a person and the garlands that Elvis hung up on the walls looked down at everyone adoringly.

From your spot standing in the open arched doorway connecting the dining room and living room you are a true wall flower for a moment. You notice how the group of younger teenage cousins brought their friends over for dinner for the first time ever and it just so happened to be the year where Elvis Presley started to attend the gathering. Giggles and whispers came from the corners of the living room, juveniles no longer embarrassed by matching tacky sweaters.

Looking away, your knowing smirk turns into a wide, adoring smile as you turn your attention to Elvis playing with your littlest cousins on the fluffy rug.

Unlike their older counterparts, their innocent smiles are refreshing for they are oblivious to the fact that it is the Elvis Presley playing with them.

To the little ones, he’s just Mr. Elvis, a friend to play with. He’s cradling the youngest baby gently in his arms while sitting criss-cross applesauce on the floor. A toddler in two pigtails and a bright pink knit sweater plays in his gelled hair as if on an oblivious mission to mess it up.

Little Jane managed to get her hand on a brush and was trying to play make-believe hair salon with your boyfriend. “Sit still, Mr. Elvis!”

“Oops.” Elvis winces as the hard brush hits him on the side of the head. “I’m trying, honey, I really am. Hard when you’re trying ta pull my hair out.”

“I’m tryna make ya look pretty! If you wanna look a mess just say it.”

“Maybe sometimes I wanna look a mess.”

She groans, “You hardly got a lotta hair anyway. It’s all shiny and too hard ta make ponies.” And just like that, with an attention span the size of her tiny legs, she abandons both Elvis and the brush to go play with a group of older kids about older elementary age.

Elvis chuckles lightly and focuses on the small baby still in his lap, trying to grab at him with chubby hands. His plush lashes flutter gently as he looks down and gives the little cherub all of his pretty attention and you swear right then and there, your heart was about to escape from your chest.

“Ain’t you the cutest? You’re the cutest, ain’t ya?” The baby giggles an infectious giggle and Elvis’ smirk is just as adorable.

“I gotta get myself one of ya. A cute little baby. A littlun just like you.”

“I gotta get myself one of ya.” He’s talking to a baby, and you’re his girlfriend, the only one who can help him with that wish. Stuck in place, your legs feel weak as you lean on the wall next to you for support and your stomach can be easily compared to a snow globe filled with a flurry of snowflakes. If hearts can do somersaults, yours has many times since you’ve met Elvis.

His hand envelops one of the baby’s white socks gently. “Tiny little sooties too.”

The baby’s gummy grin gets wider as he kicks his feet, fascinated with Elvis’ hand like a new toy. Your boyfriend moves up from the itty bitty feet to tickle the tiny belly lying in front of him, then his palm relaxes, moving up and down in a soothing motion over the little one’s soft sweater. By the way Elvis’ pink lips move you can tell he has started to sing a song. It’s a quiet melody just between him and the baby he's holding. The most beautiful, adorable secrets.

When you remember that you are an actual person in the room and your legs feel less like jello, in your head you decide to walk over to the spot on the rug where Elvis is sitting but before your heels could move a second step, the ringing of a bell fills the room.

“Dinner everyone!” The voice of your mother is a saving grace to every hungry soul in the house.

Elvis stands up, holding the baby securely as if he has been a professional at holding infants his whole life. The mother, your eldest cousin, walks over shyly with a blush on her face as she carefully takes the baby from Elvis’ arms so he could go eat.

“You’ve got a really cute daughter, honey…well her mama’s cute so I know where she got it from.”

Flustered, her mouth parts a little as she adjusts the smiley baby on her hip. “O-oh. Um..thank you. Thank you very much.”

He had a way of speaking, a beautiful charm, that could make any woman he comes across blush. No matter how long the sparkly wedding ring has been on their ring finger. By the way she looked at Elvis, you wouldn’t know that the young mother has been married to her actual husband for two years. You’d think the baby in her hands was Elvis’.

Elvis smirked his “I know what I’m doing” cheeky grin and kissed the baby’s cheek before walking away.

Suddenly, You and Elvis start to walk to each other simultaneously as if all that time apart wore you out and you needed another dose, attracting like the opposite sides of the strongest magnet, the two of you meet in the middle of the room.

You’re the next to get your cheek kissed and he whispers to you, “Remember when ya said earlier that things could be worse when I was grumbling ‘bout the sweater.”

“Oh, I remember.”

He holds your hand and begins to lead you to the kitchen as he finishes his thought. “I’ll tell ya. Today couldn’t get better, honey. It really couldn’t.”

As you walk, the voices of tiny children ring out suddenly, “Mistletoe! Mistletoe!” It took Elvis tapping your shoulder and pointing up to notice that the audience was addressing you and him. Through long lashes you look up and indeed a piece of green hangs above in the archway that you and Elvis stand in. To any on-looker the image of you two could’ve been a painting. You indeed felt frozen in time.

“It’s the mistletoe! That’s your boyfriend, you gotta kiss!” The tiny voices continued their protesting.

Elvis smiles at you, “Well, I guess it could get a little better. It’s bad luck to ignore the mistletoe. Need to feel ya on me…been too long.”

“Merry Christmas, Elvis.” Just like that, you reach up and kiss him, your thumb moving back and forth on his cheek as you tilt your head to the side. He starts kissing you back immediately and an eruption of tiny cheers fills the room.

#merry christmas #happy new year #very quickly proofread #not beta'd #elvis #elvis presley #elvis fans #50s elvis #elvis x reader #60s elvis #70s elvis #vintage #elvis fanfiction #elvis fanfic #elvis presley x reader #elvis fluff #elvis x you #elvis x y/n

[mymultiverse00]

Mrs. Blum

My head is pounding. Over and over again, it’s drumming out a cadence in 4/4 time that I can feel behind my eyes, and in my ears, and all the way down to my stomach. I feel sick and hung over, but I have no idea Why I’m hungover. I don’t remember getting drunk last night. Actually, I don’t really remember anything from last night, but whatever I got up to has left me feeling sick as hell and I do not like it.

I pry my eyes open slowly and am momentarily blinded by a blazing hot sun shining in through a wall of very tall windows. Where the Hell am I? I wonder, taking a moment to try to focus on what’s going on outside, sitting up with a start when I finally start to recognize the landmarks. There’s an enormous fountain outside with dozens of people standing around it, and loud music playing in the distance. The Eiffel Tower stands across from that, looking very regal and pretty, but somehow not quite the right size. Eventually, my turtle slow brain clicks over. I��m in Las Vegas. Why the hell am I in Las Vegas? I really need some answers.

I look around the room a little and confirm that I am in a very large suite at the Bellagio Hotel, and judging by the overturned bottles and dirty glasses everywhere, I’ve been having a party. A tiny twinge between my thighs and complete lack of clothing tells me I’ve also been having sex, and likely quite a lot of it, but with who? That mystery is about to solve itself when the bathroom door suddenly flies open and a very naked and very aroused Roland Blum steps out.

“Roland! What the fuck are you doing here?” I shout, yanking sheets and blankets up over myself to hide my naked body.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Y/n!” He growls back. “Could you keep your screeching to a minimum this morning? I’m hungover as fuck and that’s not helping.”

“Sorry, you just surprised me is all, but what in the world is going on here? What are you doing in my hotel room and why the hell are we in Las Vegas?”

“Well, Mrs. Blum,” he began, swaggering over to join me on the bed. “First of all, it’s our hotel room. And second, it was your idea to come here in the first place, but I guess you chose to forget that.”

“My idea…? Wait. What did you just call me?”

“Mrs. Blum. Unless you want to keep your maiden name like some kind of bra burning feminist? We got married last night, kid.” He flashes his left hand at me, showing off a gold wedding band.

“What?!” I squeaked, scrambling to check my own ring finger and finding an enormous diamond resting there.

“Yeah. You came over to my place last night, crying about some shit that probably doesn’t matter and I offered to fuck you. You said the only way you would ever fuck me is if we got married so… there you go,” he concluded with his hands spread wide like some corny magician, giving me that self satisfied smile he always wears when he knows he’s won an argument.

“So you’re telling me, you drove us all the way to Vegas - to marry me - just so you could get some pussy?” I ask in disbelief.

“You’re damn right I did.”

“Huh.” I sit back against the headboard, taking in this new information and trying like hell to recall any of those events. “Was it any good?”

Roland gives me an offended look. “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t ask me that, doll.”

“Well, I don’t know! I’ve never had sex with you before, not sober or as a married woman. I have nothing to compare it to.”

“Well then, let me tell you, wife,” he says lasciviously, slowly pulling down the sheets to expose my bare breasts to his eyes. “Married pussy is the best pussy. You wrapped your long legs around my head so goddamn tight last night, I thought I was going to pass out a couple of times! Then you did this thing to my ass…,” he shivers at the memory. “You’re a real freak, Y/n, and I gotta say, I like it!”

“And you’re ok with being married? To me?” I ask timidly.

“Fuck yes, Y/n. I’ve wanted to get inside your snatch for years! I got my trophy now, and I’m keeping it.” He leans over and kisses me roughly on the mouth. His beard tickles, but in the best way.

“So what do we do now?” I ask.

“Well, if you’re hungry, I can feed you my dick. If you’re not, I’ll eat your ass until you pass out. After that, who the fuck cares?”

I giggle. I’m beginning to come around to the idea of being married to this foul mouthed lawyer, and I’m thinking it might be helpful if I could remember having sex with my new husband, so I give in.

“Tell you what, husband. I’m going to order some room service from downstairs and then I’m going to eat it while I sit on your face.”

He growls in response, sliding in closer to me so his massive cock rubs against the side of my thigh. He starts sucking a bruise onto the side of my neck and pulling at my nipples.

“After we eat, if you’ve been a good boy, I’ll let you rail me against those big glass windows over there, for all the tourists to see.” His head pops up and he smiles widely.

“Goddamn it, Y/n. I fucking love being married to you.”

“Good. Now, I’ll sort out my breakfast, why don’t you sort out yours?”

“Yes, Mrs. Blum.”

The End

#roland blum #reader insert #Roland blum x reader #not beta'd #why did i write this #the good fight #michael sheen

[makeshiftproject]

Blue and You

summary; you ask megumi a silly question and he takes it 'seriously'

wc; 686

“If the entire world turned blue, do you think you would be able to pick me out of the crowd?”

Megumi paused his writing to look at you, and despite your thoughts, he seemed to take your question into consideration. He always did that and you wondered how he managed to keep it up, consider your questions so genuinely when you only ever spewed insanity.

“What do you mean if the world turned blue?” He had abandoned his schoolwork to face you completely, an action that would likely receive him a lecture from his father though he didn’t seem to care much.

“Say you were like sitting in class and all of a sudden the world turned the exact same shade of blue” The answer didn’t make much sense, you hadn’t thought this out much. You suspected Megumi already knew that as you watched his eyes squint slightly in thought.

“So it would be like everything was covered in a blanket of blue?” You watched him drum his fingers along the surface of his desk as you nodded, getting slightly distracted by the quiet melody he was making with the taps of his fingers “So would everything lose all defining features?”

“Well..” You fell silent as you tried to think of the answer that would make it most difficult for him to answer “Not exactly! It would be like if everything started to wear those weird green screen suits that actors wear” You turned your head to meet his piercing gaze, his eyebrows furrowing in disbelief

“How would that even make sense?”

“Well it would be like everyone was wearing a fitted blanket of blue” You watched how his eyebrows pinched together as he squinted at you, though you couldn’t quite tell if it was in confusion or annoyance “Don’t be so judgemental Megumi!”

You watched his features relax for a split second before his lips started to slightly form a smile, like he was trying not to laugh “If you can give me an explanation as to how that works, I’ll consider answering your question”

You look at him in disbelief, not entirely believing that someone so intelligent would be unable to grasp such a simple concept “C’mon! It would be like everyone lost all their colour and just became… blue!” He raised an eyebrow in your direction as he picked his pencil back up “If you for example turned blue, then I wouldn’t be able to distinctly make out your eyes, but I would be easily able to make out your nose and lips and your hair would be all slicked down”

The corners of his lips lifted slightly as if he was about to tell you a joke “So it would be like everything was wearing a VFX suit” Your jaw dropped as you soaked in his look of amusement “That’s exactly what I said!”

“Really? I recall you saying ‘weird green screen suits that actors wear’” He swiftly dodged the pillow that you hurled in his direction “They’re the same thing!!” He smiles slightly before speaking again “I think I would still remember you” You look up at him confused “If the entire world theoretically went blue I would still remember you”

“Remember?” 

“Well it would be easy to forget everything wouldn’t it? Everything would just blend into blueness”

You laughed slightly at his words “Then I think I would remember you too” You fidgeted slightly with your fingers as you looked him in the eyes.

“How so?” He asked, it was funny how much it seemed like a challenge to you.

“Like if there was a line of things and you I would be able to pick you out” You felt high on the moment, giggling for no apparent reason “It would be like blue, blue, blue, then you”

“You think so?” His pencil rolled over the top of his long forgotten work, his gaze fixed wholly on you.

“I know so” You hummed quietly, allowing silence to blanket the room, feet dangling from the edge of your chair as you listened to the quiet ticks of the clock behind you.

note; literally first time i've posted on this site ever and its a drabble I wrote at 1am... anyway enjoy! sorry if he's a bit out of character I'm literally fighting sleep. also I got the idea for this from the song blue and you by mad honey so give it a listen!

#megumi x reader #megumi fushiguro #jujutsu kaisen #gender neutral reader #fluff #drabble #i wrote this at 1 am #not beta'd

[inatimate-icarus]

Bones Chapter 1

Summary: You had always found comfort in your district life, and the relationship you all had with the capitol. But that changes when you leave the arena, Finnick takes notice of you, will you allow him to help you cope? Or will he remain just another capitol mutt in your eyes?

Warnings: Couple of swear words here n there, mentions of nausea/vomiting, depictions of violence/gore, blood, mentions inducing vomiting.

W.C: 4k

Your mother straightened out your collar and smoothed a hand over your shoulders. You were donning a soft olive green sweater vest, it sat neatly against the crisp white button-up and was a welcome contrast to your dark brown corduroy pants. Not too much, but good enough for the cameras. Standing a bit straighter to look at your parents, you felt it, overwhelming confidence. It has been five whole years since you’ve come of age and you have yet to have your name pulled from that infamous glass bowl. This is it. This was the year you left for the arena and came back to your district, adding to its ever-increasing pool of victors. This was the year you made your district proud. That thought consumed your mind, while you climbed the steps to stand with Granite, the District Two escort. You stood proudly, a confident smile spread across your countenance while you listened to your parents cheer you on.

Another round of cheers erupted when a small child, who looked like they'd just come of age, approached the pedestal. You shook hands with your district partner, Gabbro, a kid in your neighborhood. You’ve spoken only a handful of times, but you offer them a sweet smile. You knew they wouldn’t last five minutes in the arena, and knowing that gave you stirred something inside you but, the capitol loves a show. You watched them tear up, they were aware of the situation they were in. The capitol loves a show. You pulled Gabbro into a tight hug, patting their head and shushing quietly. You let them sob into your shoulder as you bathe in the reactions of the crowd. After your brief goodbyes, the next couple of days seemed to pass by in a blur, before you knew it you were preparing for the tribute parade.

You spent nearly all your time training and acquainting yourself with the other tributes, making quick allies with the tributes from districts 1 and 4. Granite was one of your constant supporters, giving you constant praise for your “overwhelming confidence”. Enobaria was rough around the edges and, though she made sure to see to it that both you and Gabbro were thoroughly prepared, she clearly had a soft spot for the younger tribute. Continuing to talk them through the nerves whilst you prepared to put your best foot forward for the people of the capitol.

You turned quickly when you felt someone else's eyes piercing the back of your head, your eyes meeting soft, inviting green ones. It took you a moment to recognize his face, though as he approached with a smug smile and the confidence of a seasoned victor, you knew exactly who that peacock was.

Finnick Odair. The youngest victor in the entire history of the games, you’d spent countless nights rewatching the 65th game, analyzing every move that eventually led him to victory. It was embarrassing to admit it, but you were a bit jealous, he was a year younger than you. And whilst you stayed in your district, training, he had already won the games; and with it the hearts of the capitol citizens. “Your stylist truly outdid himself.” A sickeningly saccharine voice filled your ears, and a stage-ready smile quickly found its way to your face.

“That he did, the gold is easy on the eyes.” You fiddled the hem of your golden skirt, suddenly feeling very conscious of your every move. Finnick reaches a hand out to adjust your cape, letting it pool behind you. “Yet wonderfully striking.” He was dangerously close, his left hand twirling an imaginary object on your shoulder. “Careful, Odair.” You warned, not wanting any unnecessary rumors ruining your chances. Though you made no attempt at pushing him away, that seemed to egg him on as he leaned forward to speak quietly in your ear. “Y’know comforting that kid was genius- you’ll have to give me acting lessons sometime.”

“What?” The word slipped without another thought, how could he tell? You felt you were an excellent actor, or at least, you thought you were. Finnick smirked, he knew what he was doing, trying to shake your resolve. You gently place a hand on his arm, taking a step back. Your trained smile came back to your face while you watched him, searching for a motive. “I’m not sure I know what you mean.” Finnick's expression didn’t change, but he moved a hand to his pocket, successfully fishing out a sugar cube and held it out to you. “Sweetheart, I know an act when I see one.” You shook your head and he pops the sugar into his mouth stepping closer again. “See, I have sort of a knack for finding secrets,” Shrinking a couple of sizes while Finnick towers over you, “And that fire in your eyes is enticing.”

You won’t let him shake you, having dedicated hundreds of hours of your life to training. You won’t let pretty eyes and a pair of dimples be your downfall, you stand straighter. “I’m afraid I have no secrets to give, Odair. But I’ll let you know once I change my mind.” You continued to stare into his eyes, this man is dangerous. One wrong move could cost you your sponsors. There’s an intense staring contest before the crowd suddenly grows louder, and the other districts start mounting their chariots. “I suppose that’s my cue,” You bow slightly, “til’ next time, Finnick.”

For a moment his expression falls into something unidentifiable, but just as quickly as it appears it’s gone, and his signature darling smile is back. As you turn your back you hear him speak under his breath. “For your sake, I hope that time never comes.” He made his way back to his tributes while the chariots prepared to leave. You didn’t have a moment to process his words before your performance began, but unwillingly his words followed you for days to come. And they continue to stay with you as your capsule slowly brings you into the arena.

You were a career. You’d trained your entire life for these games, physically, at least. That time spent never could’ve prepared you for the moment your knife plunged into another tribute's chest, no one told you how to rid yourself of the nausea you felt when his limp body hit the ground. With zero time to recover, suddenly all that time spent training was tossed out the window as soon as you saw Gabbro running into a little cave nearby, they’re just a child. The disgusting realization came as you fought off the tributes trying to corner him, you honestly don’t know what came over you.

Gabbro was a wonderful climber for their age, they were smaller and extremely agile. Making it easy for them to get down the pit, and once you had both made it down to the cornucopia, it was a bloodbath. The stinging scent of iron permeated your nose, and a wave of nausea came rushing over you. Fortunately, the nausea was quickly forgotten when a tribute from District 7 came barreling towards you, his ax high above his head. Which left you a clear opening, you quickly dive and aim for his chest. A guttural noise left his mouth, as he stood still for a moment, probably trying to figure out why you looked so horrified.

You were raised to kill, so why did you feel so disgusting? You realized you didn’t even remember his name, a subconscious effort to make it easier to get rid of the other tributes. The less you know about them the better, there’s nothing for you to get attached to. But that didn’t stop you from keeping a hand over your mouth as he collapsed, once again without a moment to recover you heard shouts from a cave nearby. Gabbro. That was all you needed before you were running in, but how you wished you hadn’t.

You wished you hadn’t saved the kid, maybe then you wouldn’t have heard about how much they missed their family. About the kitten they got recently, Rocky, and how he refuses to sleep without them. About how their favorite color is olive green because it reminded them of you, and your bravery. You wished you hadn’t held them and covered their ears every time the cannon went off.

While the both of you were making your way across the rocky terrain, searching for your next meal, the conversations seemed to flow easily. Speaking to someone about something that wasn’t the game was like taking a breath you didn’t know you needed. After just a couple of days in the arena 18 people, including you and Gabbro, were all that remained. Some of the tributes were people you had an alliance with, but they surely wouldn’t welcome you with open arms now.

Looking for food and water was a walk in the park if the park was scorching hot and also a desert. You two had managed to find a lake, the fish in it were small but you were in no position to be picky.

The night came quickly, urging the search for shelter. The sand started to blend, it was hard to tell what direction you’d come from or which way you were going. The cool light of the moon seemed to shine on the sand, illuminating the silent expanse, and then the canon fired.

Six ear-ringing shots boomed throughout the arena.

That’s 12 of us left. You were a little impressed, 6 people simultaneously? A sick part of you was relieved, not only because you didn’t die, but because you could already see the blood staining your hands. The nauseating fanfare began as the first six tributes flashed across the stars, you held Gabbro tighter, urging them to cover their ears.

The other tributes had continued to drop like flies, 9, 3, 2. Cannon after cannon for another week, until it was just a pair from District 4. You and Gabbro had been hunted down at least a couple of times during that, having just narrowly avoided it every time. On day 9 you had killed 3 people, around your age, one of them just barely missing any major vital points on Gabbro. But they didn’t get away unscathed, a large gash stretched from side to side on their right leg, making moving camp a little harder.

It was quiet for days, which was to be expected with 4 living people left. But unfortunately, the momentary peace was boring. And the capitol loves a show. The surrounding silence was replaced with a deep growling, you stood cautiously, not knowing what you were to face. A liger. If you were in a different situation it would’ve been gorgeous, you shook Gabbro awake, and a look of utter terror painted their face. “Gab, I need you to run back to the pit as fast as you can. Do you understand me? Don’t slow down, don’t turn back, I swear I’ll be right behind you.”

You gave Gabbro a tight hug, a goodbye hug if your luck had run out. Maybe 4 will kill them quickly, and it’ll all be over. You throw a knife toward the liger and it fixates on you, you can hear Gabbro limping their way to escape. The spear you’d taken proved to be useful, successfully putting distance between you and the large cat. And then it pounced, your spear sat in its mouth, while you tried desperately to hold it back. You could see the handle bending in on itself, you were ready to die, you just needed to buy Gabbro enough time to run.

A rock hit the liger in the eye, it quickly diverted its attention from you and you kicked it off. You looked over, horrified when you saw Gabbro toss another rock in its direction, you took advantage of the distraction and pierced your spear into its jugular. You let out a long sigh, before pushing its body off.

“What the fuck are you doing? Are you trying to get yourself killed?” You ran up to Gabbro, fuming. “I told you to run, what are you doing back here?” Your anger was misplaced, you knew that, but you also knew that you didn’t want to watch this child die. “You needed help!” “I need you to live, Gabbro.” You were both crying, knowing that only one of you was getting out of the arena didn’t make arguing any easier.

Gabbro threw their arms around you, sobbing into your chest. “Please just let me stay with you, please.” For a moment you stood still, and then you hugged them back just as tight. You two separated and gave sad smiles, and that’s when you heard it, an arrow flying. Gabbro was fast, much faster than you, they pushed you aside. “Gabby?” A soft gasp escaped your lips while you both fell to the ground, arrows continued to fly past while you laid them down.

“Gabbro, I need you to stay with me okay? Keep your eyes open just for a little while. I'll be right back. Stay awake, I’ll be right back.” Rising reluctantly, you raised your spear to the perpetrators. Marina and Caspian, the two tributes from District 4. Caspian held his bow with an arrow prepared to strike, Marina stood not too far away from him with a sinister grin on her face.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you. They’re a good kid, ‘s such a shame, they could’ve lived a good life.” Marina’s condescending tone made your blood boil, before you could retort Caspian's arrow narrowly avoided your head. You strafe left and pulled a knife from your belt, throwing it straight at Caspian's left knee, he fell almost immediately. You look back to Marina who’s already charging towards you, her trident glistened with something in the moonlight. You block her advance but she knocks you back, landing on your back you quickly recover. Another arrow surges past, scraping your bicep. You let out a hiss of pain and felt the wound, a black substance leaked out of your suit. A wave of nausea followed and you shook away your blurring vision, Marina’s sick laugh permeated your senses. “It’s amazing what a little bit of Fang Tooth venom can do to a person, isn’t it?”

Fang Tooth Bats? You had a brief run-in with them a couple of days ago, luckily you and Gabbro had avoided getting bit, but you watched a couple of tributes fall victim to their venom. Marina once again lunged toward you, you snapped out of your haze and managed to trip her. I need to get rid of Caspian first. You had sent your last knife to his knee, giving you no more projectiles, so you ran to him before he could load another arrow. Your spear drives a deep hole in his chest, the cannon booming as soon as his body hits the sand.

You can hear Marina’s shouts from behind you, but you’re struggling to understand what she’s saying. The blood seemed to smell much stronger now, and you fought the dizzy feelings. You grab the machete from Caspian’s side, but Marina tackles you to the ground. You glanced at Gabbro’s body, they didn’t seem to be moving. She laughed while she looked down at you, “You have to be some kind of stupid to think that kid is gonna live any longer, they’re already dead!” She lifted her trident above her head, but you grasped the handle of the machete while your other hand sat flat with the blade. Your strength was rapidly declining, struggling to hold the weapon in front of you. “Y’know Gabbro was first on my list, easy target. It’d take nothing for my trident to pierce their tiny body.” Her trident was getting dangerously close, you were racking your brain for something to get you out of this situation. You used your remaining strength and pushed her off, grabbing a fistful of sand and throwing it in her eyes. Without a moment to spare you slashed her throat while she struggled, her sick smile remained as her body fell.

Gabbro. The nauseating feeling was back and it was becoming increasingly harder to keep your balance, and you wobbled toward Gabbro, who still hadn’t moved an inch since you’d left. “Gabby? Gabby, are you okay?” Their chest was rising and falling steadily, but something felt wrong. They sat up and pulled the arrow from their side. “Gabs, why'd you do that? Fuck, we need to apply pressure to-“ You were interrupted when Gabbro swung the arrow at you, missing you by a long shot. “Gabby?” You fell back, moving away from Gabbro, who continued to shout and swing the arrow. “Gabbro, stop! It’s me!” You begged, hoping they’d understand. Your pleas fell on deaf ears, whatever hallucination they were going through was occupying all the space in their mind. “Shut up, Marina! I won’t let you hurt them!” You glanced over at Marina’s lifeless body. “Gabbro, Marina’s dead! She can’t hurt us, please just look at me!”

Their wound continued to expel blood, and you could tell it was starting to take a toll on them. But they jumped on you, thoroughly convinced that you were Marina. “Don’t you feel bad at all? Those people had families, Marina!” “Gabby!” You made one last attempt to call for them, your voice cracked and tears wouldn’t stop falling down your cheeks. Something unidentifiable flashed in their eyes, and you sat up, bracing yourself. For the pain that never came, you opened your eyes and Gabbro had driven the arrow directly into their chest. “Gabs?” You said their name softly, catching them when they fell over. You shouted their name while cradling their face in your hand, a far away look painted their features.

The last cannon boomed and your screams rang throughout the arena.

It all happened so fast, you were pulled out of the arena and immediately sent to a hospital. You let the doctors and nurses do their jobs, while you sat, the image of Gabbro’s lifeless body wouldn’t leave your mind. You didn’t even have a moment to process before you were thrown into life as a victor, the parties and the interviews did nothing to rid your hands of the blood they’ve shed. Your parents didn’t notice the change in your demeanor, or if they did they chose not to acknowledge it. They congratulated you, praising you for the people you had murdered, for the kids you murdered.

Suddenly the comfort you found in the capitol was nonexistent, you found yourself flinching at any form of physical contact, even from your parents. You’d believed that the people in the districts were equals, but you were nothing more than their entertainment. When you moved into your house in Victors Village, it felt much colder than you were used to. Although your parents gave you a false sense of comfort, anything was better than nothing. And nothing is what you were given when you begun your victory tour, crowds of shallow capitolites congratulated you, showering you in praise for your game. You had to swallow back any tears while you read your scripted speeches, your eyes kept drifting to the families of the fallen tributes. Your own district was one of the hardest, Gabbro’s family had stood on a pedestal across from you. Their eyes were filled with so many emotions, the most identifiable being rage, and you couldn’t blame them. No one understood why you could live the rest of your life while their kids, their babies had died in the arena. But they didn’t know that you wished you had died with them.

You were dreading the visit to District 4, while you stood on the stage to read your small sheet of paper, people began talking. A couple of people, you’re assuming were the parents of Caspian and Marina respectively, threw things at you. Small stones, sticks, really anything they could grab. A sharper rock managed to nick your cheek, and you watched them all get apprehended while a swarm of peacekeepers made their way through the crowd, you spotted a familiar sandy blonde while you were being escorted away. Once again that nauseating feeling had returned.

The rest of the districts were fairly uneventful in comparison, but the hatred and melancholy followed no matter where you went. The tour had finally ended with a huge party in the heart of the capitol, you had tried your best to avoid going, but Granite insisted that you were the star and President Snow would be disappointed to have the party without you. You tried one last time to refuse and found a white rose on your doorstep, attached to it was a small envelope that reeked of rose perfume. You opened it and to your horror was an earring you knew belonged to your mother, you weren’t dumb, you knew that was a threat.

Which led you to this lavish party, swirling a glass of god knows what. You internally thanked your stylist for keeping your outfit relatively simple, though you did almost trip over the skirt on your way up the stairs and the button-up seemed to be buttoned far too high, it was better than the outfits made entirely out of ruffles of fabric. You decide you’d had enough spinning your drink and go to take a sip, “I wouldn’t if I were you.” You jumped, despite the outfit you’re sure you’d be able to take anyone in a fight right now. “Woah, sweetheart, it’s just me.” Finnick put his hands up in surrender, “See? No weapons, you’re a little on edge, you alright?” His voice held something you couldn’t quite pick apart, but in the moment you didn’t want to. He picked up a small vine of grapes, and looked at you expectantly. This man was a fellow victor, he had mentored the people who killed Gabbro and although it wasn’t inherently his fault, you needed someone to blame. “Don’t touch me, Odair.” His smile seemed to widen and he took the drink from your hands, pouring it on the ground. He gave the empty glass to a passing waiter with a polite nod. “What the fuck was that for?” You were seething and you wanted nothing more than to punch that stupid smile off of his face. He tossed a grape up and caught it in his mouth. “It’s meant to make you throw up so you can continue eating, but if you want to be just like these capitolites you’re more than welcome to grab another glass.”

Although that sounded less than ideal you didn’t want Finnick Odair of all people to tell you not to do it. You sneered at him, “Thanks for the advice, darling, but I can take care of myself just fine.” His smile didn’t waver and he tossed another grape into his mouth. “Oh I know, I saw.” He saw? Of course he did, he’s a mentor, he’d be watching for his tributes. You felt the festering anger begin to rise, the anger at everyone who was watching the games, the people who were supporting it, and most of all President Snow himself. “If you know then, don’t come near me again, or else the next glass is hitting your skull.” You decided you didn't want to hear what he’d say next, and walked away. You saw a look of disappointment fall on his countenance, but you didn’t stay long enough to pick that apart. You don’t understand how he can be so okay with training other people, kids like him to kill other people. And honestly, you didn’t want to understand, all you knew was that you wanted out of these clothes. Hell, out of the capitol, and away from all of the disgusting people that inhabit it. Unfortunately, you don’t always get what you want, that much was evident when you arrived home to a path of white roses and a sickeningly sweet smell leading into your home.

I’m completely open to any criticism! But also please understand this is the first long fanfic idea I’ve ever had and executed, so be gentle 😭😭😭. Enjoy the fic! I have some big plans for this one and I hope you’ll stick around to read em!

#finnick x you #finnick odair #the hunger games #thg series #finnick odair x reader #no y/n #thg #thg fanfiction #the hunger games fanfiction #fanfic #gn reader #gender neutral reader #gender neutral y/n #ocs #enemies to lovers #not beta read #not beta'd

[sauron-kraut]

Summary:

He remembers the labour and pain of creating a body. Of giving birth to himself when the world was new.

Mairon and Thuringwethil visit Melkor in Angband, a good time ensues. Mairon thinks back on his creation.

Yes, I went there and let them have a threesome.

Hey, for once (almost) everyone is having a great time, which nearly never happens in my fics.

How did they end up like that, you ask? I have no idea. I'm taking suggestions.

Not beta'd!

Warnings: explicit, child death, mild gore, they're their own warning

#mairon #sauron #melkor #thuringwethil #angbang #mairon x thuringwethil #my writing #m writes #silmarillion #the silmarillion #silmarillion fanfiction #silm fanfic #tolkien fanfiction #tolkien fanfic #ficlet #not beta'd

[jester089]

I feel I need to balance this angst out, do this AFTER you’ve done the others and given yourself time to chill…I’ve got my eyes on you…

Anyhow, how’s about the TADC gang all seperate with an s/o who’s just the definition of ‘chill’. They are the best comfort partner (just behind Kinger ofc), they comfort, share and engage in hobbies, show small signs of affection like soft side hugs and gentle butterfly kisses to the cheeks or neck, an ear to listen and a shoulder to cry on. Will also 100% piggyback/bridal carry their significant other if asked or for fun. Just a pure wholesome fuzzy mess.

Lazy days

This is just going to be what I think their hobbies and all are. As it's a fluffy request I'm going to do softer not cannon versions of everyone. TADC crew x Chill/Relaxed Reader

Caine

Caine can be an incredibly busy man/AI so try and make him take breaks. He gets to caught up in work because he's so worried that if he doesn't have fun things to do then people will start abstracting. So when you walk into his office gently pick him up and sit down in his chair with him now sitting on your lap it helps him snap out of it. He isn't going to stop still. But he really appreciates you being there. You being there and every now and again giving him an idea you had makes the work take longer, but makes it much more enjoyable. You'll honestly probably end up falling asleep on him, arms wrapped around him head on his shoulder. Sadly he doesn't have a neck, or any real exposed skin. So kisses will be a little rough but that isn't gonna stop you. It is a little weird kissing a giant set of teeth though. And second he finished up, or at least reaches a point where he can stop you pick him up and take him to your bed. Sometimes he'll tunnel vision to much on something and you'll have to do that anyways. It's like holding an angry cat when that happens, minus the claws.

Gangle

Gangle loves affection but isn't amazing at giving nor receiving it. Any time you do anything she can and will blush. And if you protect her from Jax. Putty Gangle has arrived. How relaxed you are despite everything happening helps her out a lot. I headcannon that she loves working with clay, like making pottery and all. But sadly with her ribbon hands she can't do it anymore. Or rather couldn't, cause you help her out. You two will sit in front of a potters wheel. You have her place her hands on the outside of yours and you just let her lead. (I have made plenty of pottery in my time and I can safely say it is incredibly hard to do.) Sadly unless your helping her with something she doesn't let you in her pottery station anymore. You tried to make a mug for her without her and it didn't go well. You didn't know the first thing about pottery when she wasn't guiding you so it ended up blowing up in the kiln. You felt really bad. Cuddles with Gangle are a little strange. She doesn't have any real body weight so it really does feel like your cuddling a piece of ribbon (for good reason). So you two came up with something. You got a body pillow that's around her height and when you two are cuddling she'll wrap around it so she has more mass. When she needs some comfort you'll know. Whenever she's in a really bad mood and wants you touch but doesn't really want to say it she'll exist really close to you and start gently wrapping one of her arms around yours. Overall 10/10, she's a giant sweetheart and your lucky you got her. So treat her well yeah?

Zooble

I recommend bringing some kind of hoodie or blanket with you. Her edges can be a little harsh on the body. Out of everyone Zooble is the highest chance of most cuddles. She never gets involved in adventures and avoids the others when she can. Which basically just means more alone time with her. Zooble has a lot of insecurities concerning her new body and the circus. You're the only one she trust enough with that kind of thing so don't downplay her thoughts and emotions. The main way she shows affection is just spending time with you, she isn't big on touch and she doesn't exactly have the resources for gifts. And that worries her, she knows that she can be rude and unpleasant to be around but she doesn't have anything else to offer you. She's not great at communication so you really just need to keep patient and keep loving her. She has a jagged and rough exterior, but it like everything can be broken. It'll just take time.

Kinger

You two make a great bunch. The others never would have thought but if someone is having an especially bad day they go to you two. Kinger is amazing at calming and encouraging words, and your amazing at calming acts and setting up an atmosphere. You've saved a lot from abstraction because of that. Hugs are amazing from him. That royal medieval robe he's wearing is really nice to the touch. Sadly he doesn't have a mouth but he'll try and make up for that with head bonks (Head bonk: To gently place your head against someone you care about to show affection. Usually used when that person isn't comfortable with kisses.) One time you two built an actual castle out of pillows. It took you like a day but it had a working drawbridge and everything! Sadly it was broken during an adventure but it was really fun to build with Kinger. He can get a little... Unstable... When that happens a tight hug and a kiss can usually snap him out of it. But if that doesn't work bring him back to your room. The atmosphere you have set up and the fact that it smells like you will help him out a lot.

Ragatha

Once again you two make a good combo. She holds people off from breaking down. But if she can't stop it then she sends em to you. So once again you two help with abstraction a lot. But poor baby is stressed and you help provide some needed relief. I see her as the type of if she was expecting a kiss or a hug she'll hug/kiss back and thank you. If she wasn't she turns into a blushing mess with a big ol dopey smile on her face. Something she appreciates a lot is more childish things. Like if you start up a pillow fight with her she will be ecstatic. But be warned her pillows hit like a truck. Not cause their different just because she's really good at pillow fights. Her fav cuddle type is the honeymoon hug (look it up). She gets to be close to you and give you smooches if she wants. And she gets to feel like she's protecting you. She is the mom friend and you annoy her by saying over the top things like. "Ok MOM" when she asks you to stop doing something. First few times she hated it but now she goes along with it sayng things like "Hey! Don't talk back to me. Give me your phone you're grounded." She never means it though.

Jax

I think Jax is the most stable person in the circus. I'm saying he's mentally ok I'm just saying that he is by far at the least risk for abstraction. Whenever Jax plays a joke on someone and you go to help calm them down he gets a little jealous. He knows you love him but he doesn't really like you talking to others. So don't be surprised if you're in the middle of comforting someone and he just picks you up and walks away. He can be a little mean so for your own sake try and not take his words to heart. He just by second nature starts pointing things out that he dislikes, and often he starts pointing out things on/to do with you before he realizes. He also won't apologize so just try and ignore it. He sorta makes up for it with affection though. Cause he's pretty affectionate. Most of it is teasing yes, like he's come out of no where kiss your cheek and use a pet name that flusters you then just leave like he didn't do anything. But he's surprisingly gentle when it comes to that kind of thing. I see him being the type where you two fall asleep in the same bed and you wake up with him having his arms and legs around you probably drooling on your forehead. Or he's one of those that take up the whole bed so you often wake up on the floor. Many say that opposites attract. And you two are very different. But that isn't a bad thing.

Pomni

You two are opposites in a lot of ways. She is anxious and constantly in a state of panic/worry. And you never are. So you help her a lot. I see her being kind of like a cat towards you. Constantly around you and or begging for attention. I have an idea that I came up with a few years ago. It's a hoodie with a giant pocket inside. Like one of those baby carriers but minus the straps and inside the hoodie so who/whatever you keep in there share warmth. And she loves it. You two can be relaxing in your room and she'll realize something and spring off the bed you two were on. She and will turn the entire place upside down looking for it (https://www.tiktok.com/@louiencoco/video/7214862848042831110) so if you don't wanna have to clean up later just show her where it is. On a more serious note though you two were a match made in heaven and with enough time you could make a genuine improvement in her mental health. The main reason she's so fragile mentally is cause she never gets/got a break. So her favorite activity with you is probably just relaxing in one of your rooms away from the others.

(Tumblr deleted this like 3 times while I was writing it. And it turned out kind of bad because of that. Sorry but don't blame me. Blame tumblr.)

xoxo, Jester

#tadc x reader #the amazing digital circus x reader #caine x reader #gangle x reader #zooble x reader #kinger x reader #ragatha x reader #jax x reader #pomni x reader #noob author #not beta'd

[syrupgirl]

Sully men and the language they love in

+incl Neteyam, Lo’ak and Jake <3

NETEYAM

Quality time & acts of service

๑༄ ‧₊˚ This guy just wants to be helpful and be able to be with you whenever he has spare the time. I think being so close to his siblings made him love spending quality time with people he loves so that definitely translates into his relationship with you

⤷“Neteyam, where are you going?” Neytiri questioned, placing down the basket she attempted to weave.

“yn is going to help me with my free diving, maybe even teach me how to hunt.” He sounded giddy and was clearly ready to go. His mother smiled and looked down at her lap.

“Alright, do not get into any trouble.” Neteyam nodded frantically and without another second he took off towards the shore.

-

“Surely it cannot be that different than what Tsireya has been teaching us.”

The two of you bobbed up and down in the water, letting the waves gently jostle you while you taught Neteyam.

“You are right, not too different. But hunting under the water asks you to be able to move your breath around your body in a different way that just free diving.” You explained.

The distance between you closed and you placed a hand on Neteyam’s chest.

“Imagine the breath you take flowing all throughout your body.” His chest slowly expanded and deflated under your palm. “Like…Rain trickling from leaf to leaf, like wind weaving itself through the trees.”

Neteyam’s snorted and you whined, “Come one, you almost had it!”

He continued to laugh and brought a hand up to his face.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. It’s just…The way you explained it. I could tell you were really trying to explain it in a way that you thought I would get.”

Heat crept up to your face and you looked away, a little embarrassed.

“I thought it might help you..,”

Neteyam’s laughing died down and he took your hand in his under the water, feeling a little bad.

“It did, I didn’t mean to make you feel bad. I think it is adorable you are trying to…customise your teachings for me.” He brought your hand up to his chest again and took a deep breath.

“Now, tell me what to do again.”

LO’AK

Gift giving & physical touch

๑༄ ‧₊˚ I don’t know about you, but I can totally imagine Lo’ak bringing you things he finds pretty or things he thinks you will find pretty. It might just be me over exaggerating that lone wolf, not-like-other-guys quality about him but in my head, he’s quirky like that

⤷”Lo’ak? Lo’ak!” You called. He was just next to you…Where could he have wondered off to? Leaping over a small creek, you continued to scan the foliage around you maybe to catch a glimpse of him.

The ground was moist beneath you noticed as you sat down, opting to wait for Lo’ak to turn up again like he always did. Your eyes drifted shut and you let yourself away with the gently breeze that combed and wove itself through the tall trees and colourful bushes. So caught up in the environment around you, you didn’t notice the sneaking footsteps behind you.

Lo’ak crept up behind you, a colourful flower in between his fingers. While sneaking through the thicket, he had noticed it and was immediately entranced by it’s delicate petals and long stamen. After sayings a quick prayer to Eywa in exchange for this beautiful gift, he plucked it and made his way back to you.

Now right behind you, he gently picked up the long braid that protected your tsaheylu and wove the stem through the intricately woven hair. You gasped and turned around suddenly, your hair slapping Lo’ak right across the face and he sputtered.

“Oh, Lo’ak! You scared me!” You gasped and punched him pathetically in the arm. He laughed and came to sit next to you.

“There was a flower, a pretty one. I thought you might like it.” He gently picked up the large plait and showed where he had woven the flower through. A smile settled across your lips.

“Thank you, Lo’ak, it’s beautiful.”

Lo’ak said nothing just smiled bashfully and shuffled a bit closer to you, threading his fingers through yours.

JAKE

Words of affirmation & physical touch

๑༄ ‧₊˚ Over the years, the world has worn on Jake. He’s a father and he will stop at nothing to protect his family. He worries, worries, worries CONSTANTLY, so the days where he can let the weight slip from his shoulders and just gather you in his embrace and shower you in gooey loving words feel all the more sweet to him.

⤷“Whose kids are those?” Jake sighed as he fell down next to you. “Not mine, that’s for sure. I was never that hyper as a kid.”

A laugh bubbles up from your stomach as you adjusted Tuk on your chest.

“Are you sure? Maybe they don’t mirror your childhood, but they do remind me of when you first arrived here. All clumsy and eager in your new body.” He laughed at that and wrapped his arm around you.

The sound of the boys in the river playing not far away washes over the two of you both. After a while, you remove Tuktirey from your breast and up to your shoulder to clear her airway of bubbles.

Jake’s eyes lingered on you and his youngest and smiled. He brought a hand up to gently pat her back and Tuk responded with a gurgle. He took her from your arms and lay the baby across his chest, then pulled you closer by the arm around your shoulders.

You nestled yourself into his side and lifted a finger up to stroke your baby’s cheek. She cooed and you both smiled.

“I don’t say it enough but,” you turned your head up to look at your mate, “thank you.”

“For what?”

“For everything. For them-” he looked to the direction of his other children who were still occupied in the stream “-for her-” now looking at Tuk “-Everything. I don’t know where I would be today without you.”

No words were needed after that. As a tear rolled down your cheek, you closed your eyes and rest.

#not beta read #not beta'd #avatar fanfiction #avatar imagine #avatar x reader #neteyam x reader #lo’ak x reader #jake sully x reader #neteyam #jake sully #lo’ak #avatar #avatar way of water #avatar 2

[karmaisakhaleesi]

🌊 Tsahìk of the Eastern Sea Neteyam~ Sully x fem!Tayrangi!Na'vi! reader Chap. 2🌊

masterlist~

prev. chap.~

warnings~ blood, death, please lmk if i missed any!

wordcount~ 2.4k+

Tompìva = raindrop = your Ikran's name

te Tsyuäval Ìe'ite = your Na'vi last name

requests are open!

italic dialogue is in na'vi!

~🌊🌊🌊~

Hot tears mix with the rain as they roll down your cheeks, you take a hand away from your Ikran to push them away, and urge her to move faster. The wind whips through your hair as lightning illuminates the sky, and the sound deafens you as you take refuge in the trees. Landing, you dismount Tompìva and pat her neck, trying to find a somewhat dry place to hide when you spot a small metal building. After calming your Ikran you take refuge inside the small cramped building.

After entering the broken down door, you take note of how strange the small building is, and decide that it must be a skyperson's home. Wringing the water out of your hair you lay down on one of the soft beds at the end of the room, hoping no one will come back here anytime soon you drift off into a dream filled with your sister's shouting and look of disdain.

You feel something tap your arm and flinch, covering your face with your arm, "Five more minutes tsmuke," but the tapping doesn't stop.

Sitting up you glance around the unfamiliar surrounding before remembering the events of the last night. Standing you glance out one of the broken windows, sunlight streaming into it, nearly blinding you.

The ground is soft and muddy under your feet as you step outside, the rain is now long gone. Stepping towards the trees your feet catch on something and you fall face first into the mud, "Damn!"

Groaning, you sit up and inspect it, no damage, but notice a strange metal thing poking out of the ground. Your face contorts in confusion when you look down at it, noticing a skull inside of it.

"What is this?"

Hearing a twig snap, and movement in the leaves, a chill runs down your spine. Your tail flits against the ground nervously as you unsheathe your knife, dropping the skull. The shaking of leaves to your right makes you flinch, turning you watch as a pair of yellow eyes glare at you. And that's when you feel it. An arm throws you to the ground, and another grabs your Tsaheylu and yanks you up.

Hissing at your unseen attacker you struggle against his grip, but it's no use as your knife is knocked from your hand.

"And who might you be?" a voice asks as you flail and kick the air.

His hand grabs your chin roughly and forces you to look up at him, his eyes scanning your face for something. You hiss, baring your teeth at him before he laughs and tightens his grip.

"You don't look like him," he says and you glare.

"I don't understand," you choke out as his hand tilts your head from side to side.

"But you could be useful," dropping your face he turns to leave.

As he takes a step into the trees you watch as an arrow flies past him, landing in the dirt. The end is covered in familiar blue and yellow feathers, and your heart sinks. Why did you follow me here?

Another arrow plants itself in the person who's holding you, and they fall back choking on their own blood. With your new freedom, you snatch up your knife and slash at the two behind you before running to the trees, your legs carrying you as far away as possible before you slump to the ground.

Trying to catch your breath you hear the sound of gunshots ring through the forest. Freezing, you wait before standing and running back to the abandoned building. You can feel your blood run cold at the sight, the strangers gone, and in their place bleeding out on the forest floor is Aosìng.

Kneeling beside him you almost puke. His body is littered with at least five bullet holes, putting pressure on the wound you call for your Ikran.

"Damnit! Why did you follow me here?" you shout as you pull him onto your Ikran and take flight.

~🌊🌊🌊~

It doesn't take long before you reach the parts of the forest you'd never even attempted to go to before. And you watch as the trees begin to thicken blocking out the forest floor. You urge Tompìva to slow down when you see strange tracks parting the trees, and a train comes into view. It speeds along the rail soundlessly as you pass by, careful not to be seen. Hearing the screeching of other Ikran, you glance over to see ten others flying around the train.

Flying lower, you attempt to land when you hear an explosion and feel yourself falling through the sky. Your hold on Aosìng weakens and he slips from your hands.

The last thing you hear before your body hits the ground is the pained screeching of Tompìva as she falls with you.

~🌊🌊🌊~

Neteyam's eyes scan the area around the train as the others grab supplies when he hears the screeching of an Ikran. His head whips around scanning the sky when he spots it, a blue and purple Ikran falling through the sky and into the trees, its rider not far behind. He glances over at Lo'ak before heading off to the forest.

He rushes past the trees trying to find it, hoping it isn't too serious when he spots it. The now dead Ikran laying atop its rider. He rushes to their side slowly lifting the Ikran off of them and gasps. A girl who couldn't be much older than him is lying on the forest floor covered in her own blood.

After lifting her up his face falls once he recognizes her, "y/n?"

There are two bullet holes scattered across your torso, and one almost on your neck. He carefully lifts her into his arms when your eyes shoot open, "Tompìva!"

You leap forward, your hands cradling your Ikran's head in your lap as you sob. He watches as you turn and look around, muttering something he can't hear through your cries before you collapse.

~🌊🌊🌊~

Your head pounds and your eyes flutter open, the glow of fire greeting you. You stand, wincing in pain when you notice someone standing at the entrance, looking in at you. You realize you don't recognize them when a hand forces you to sit.

"Your wounds will reopen if you do not sit and rest," you glance up to see an older woman now checking your wounds.

Slowly scanning the room, your eyes land on your small bag, once filled with flowers and herbs, now laying empty by the fire, and the memories come flooding back.

"Tompìva! Where is she?!? Is she hurt?!?" you shout, your breathing ragged as you frantically reach for your bag, only for a voice to stop you in your tracks.

"Who are you?"

Your hands tightly grip your bag as you look up to see the man in the entrance speaking. He looks familiar, you think to yourself before you clear your throat, answering his question, ""My name is - te Tsyuäval Ìe'ite. I am the Tsak-" you pause, deciding on whether to tell them the truth or not, but decide against it, "Who are you?"

His face is unreadable as he steps closer to the fire, a woman walking in behind him, her eyes with suspicion as she looks you over.

"What were you doing in the forest? And where are you from?"

You glare at him, repeating yourself, "My name is  - te Tsyuäval Ìe'ite. Who are you?"

He groans in frustration as the woman next to him puts a hand on his shoulder, whispering something in his ear.

You cross your arms and watch as they argue, before he turns to you again, "I am Jake Sully, Toruk Makto, and Olo'eyktan of the Omatikaya Clan. Now, what were you doing in the forest and where are you from?"

You cover your mouth, concealing a gasp as you realize where it is you recognize him from.

"Ikeyni," you cough and wince before continuing, "I am Ikeyni's sister, Tsakarem of the Tayrangi Clan of the Eastern Sea."

He looks at you in confusion, looking to the woman before she speaks, "Ikeyni?."

A look of surprise washes over Jake's face as he turns to you, "Then what were you doing in the forest?"

You can feel tears pricking at your eyes when you recall the last conversation you had with your sister, and how you stormed off in the middle of the night.

"I was gathering herbs," you lie, your voice cracking at the end, and you can already feel the hot tears spilling down your cheeks.

His voice is solemn when asks his next question, "And where is your Ikran?"

A sob escapes you as you wipe away your tears, "She is with Eywa now," your hands wipe furiously at your eyes as your body is wracked with sobs.

Neytiri turns to Jake, her eyes full of concern, "We should let her rest, for now."

He nods in agreement before leaving, thinking about what to do next.

~🌊🌊🌊~

You wake in a cold sweat, your dreams filled with the screeching of Tompìva, and your sister's words, "You are the Tsakarem, future Tsahìk of our Clan. What would I do if you had-"

You shake your head, pushing the thoughts away when you hear someone clear their throat. You turn to see Kiri standing in the entrance, a plate of food in her hands. She gives you a small smile as she walks towards you, taking a seat in front of you.

"Hi," you take the plate from her, careful not to spill its contents on the floor.

"Hi Kiri, right?" you whisper, your voice still hoarse from the screaming.

"I didn't think I'd see you so soon again," she says as you take a small bite of the fruit on the plate, cringing when the sour taste envelopes your mouth.

You thank her and push your hair out of your face, dreading what will happen when your sister finds out where you are.

"If it's okay, can I ask more about the Eastern Sea?"

Her voice is cautious, as she looks down at the floor. Setting your bowl down you nod, grateful for a brief reprieve from the events of the day.

"There's sand everywhere, and the ocean is always so pretty-"

You're cut off when you hear someone clear their throat. Looking up you see Jake standing with his arms crossed as he nods to Kiri.

She gives you another smile and grabs your plate, "I hope you recover soon."

You return her smile and thank her again before Jake walks closer to the fire, his brow twisted in contemplation.

Your eyes stare at the floor as you wait for him to speak, your hands twisting the ends of your hair. And you wonder where you lost your hairclip when he finally speaks, "So, you won't be able to leave right now," he gestures to your wounds, "But once you're all healed up, we'll take you back, okay?"

You frown, "What of my sister?"

Head spinning you jumped to your feet, nearly doubling over in pain as you hobbled to the entrance, "I swear I saw her Ikran before..."

He sighs as he rubs his eyes, "Ikeyni is fine, your friend however," he trails off as if trying to find the right words to say before continuing, "He'll live, but it will take longer for him to recover."

"My friend?" you question as you sit up, trying to remember more of what had happened before you blacked out.

That's when it hits you, Aosìng, that stupid skxawng! He had somehow managed to find you and from the looks of it, abandoned the raid. Which shouldn't have been for another two days...

"Was that, the raid?" you ask quietly crossing your arms.

Jake nods as Mo'at leaves, "It was moved forward after a change of plans."

But before he can you grab his arm, "Does she know where I am?"

Jake takes a deep breath before answering, "No, she doesn't know where you are."

You feel a mixture of relief and guilt wash over you. Relief that your sister is safe, but guilt for how you left things with her.

"When can I leave?" you ask, looking up at him.

"We'll take care of you until you're healed enough to travel, and then we'll take you back," he replies, his voice steady.

You nod slowly, taking in his words. You know that you owe gratitude to the Omatikaya for saving your life, but you can't help but feel like you were worsening things with your sister by staying.

Laying down as he leaves you let yourself drift off to an uncomfortable sleep.

~🌊🌊🌊~

Neteyam's eyes glanced over at Kiri as she filled a bowl with more fruit. His tail flicked about impatiently as she started to leave. Crossing his arms he gently grabbed her shoulder, "Do you mind if I take it to her?"

Kiri glanced up at him and smiled, "Sure," she said before handing him the bowl.

Carefully walking to the end of the caves, Neteyam entered your hut to see you sitting in front of the fire arms crossed.

"Kiri, I'm not really-"

Clearing his throat, Neteyam interrupted you, "Here."

Watching as you accepted the bowl from him he sat across from the fire.

"Are you, okay?" he asks and then immediately bites his tongue.

Your expression is one of worry mixed with guilt as you set the bowl down.

"Sorry, I shouldn't have-"

"It's okay," you reassure, giving him a small smile before continuing, "I feel guilty," you pause at the feeling of warm tears rolling down your face.

Feeling a warmth on your face you blink, and see Neteyam's hand wiping away the falling tears.

"Guilt over what?" he asks his voice low.

"I got into a fight, with my sister," a sob wracks your body as you remember the look on her face as you left.

She had been so disappointed.

Netetyam's mouth opened and closed, trying to think of what to say, before a sob wracked your body. He quickly wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close, resting his chin on top of your head.

A few moments of silence had passed, Neteyam's chest now wet with your tears before you heard something clatter to the floor.

Looking over Neteyam's shoulder you flinched, Aosìng was standing in the entrance, gripping it so hard his hand shook.

~🌊 🌊 🌊~

skxawng [sk’awŋ] n. moron, idiot

requests are open!

please comment below if you'd like to be added to the taglist!

taglist~

@kurogxrix

@elegantkidfansoul

@coconut-dreamz

@amortencjja

#neteyam sully x reader #neteyam sully x na'vi reader #neteyam sully x tayrangi! reader #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan #neteyam te suli tsyeyk'itan x reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam sully #neteyam x female reader #avatar 2009 #avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #avatar #james cameron avatar #avatar film #sully family #sully family x reader #not beta read #not beta'd #no beta we die like men

[tears0fsatan]

Could you also do an angst/comfort oneshot with "Please don't scare me like that again. I can take alot of things, but not loosing you." And "Just get the fuck over here and let me hold you." For bottom Mammon? I modified the last quote hope you don't mind!

✦ ⊹ ˚˖ warnings... gn!reader [no pronouns used], relationship isn't specified, maybe a lil ooc [esp. towards the end but oh well], would u consider a summoning to be kidnapping, kinda sappy lololol

 :¨·.·¨ ♥︎  a.n... MY DARLINGS, MY SWEETS, MY ANGELS, REJOICE FOR I HAVE RETURNED momentarily!!!!! thank u for bein patient with me i'll do my best to sprinkle in a post here n there heh anw!! ofc i don't mind love! thank u for sending in so many submissions omg i feel so loved ;'D

the sound of your laughter could be heard bouncing off the walls of devildom's plaza, followed by the sound of the avatar of greed's yelling. you wiped away the tears that pricked the corners of your eyes, taking in shaky deep breaths in an attempt to calm yourself.

"it's not funny! i don' get why yer laughin so hard, i'm tellin ya, i nearly died!" despite his words, there was a large smile on mammon's face. he looked at you with an empty glare, but all it did was send you into another fit of laughter.

"i'm sorry, i'm sorry, it's just," you couldn't stop the giggles that bubbled out of you, "it's so funny how you thought it was a good idea to scam a high priestess."

"it wasn't funny! them witches embedded all sorta magic in their weapons after that! it was so bad that i couldn't show my face in the human world for a century! plus it wasn't a scam, it was a one-sided beneficial agreement!" mammon defended himself, though he too couldn't help but let a few chuckles slip at the absurdity of the story.

he crossed his arms in front of his chest while grumbling simultaneously, "ain't my fault the dumb bastard didn't realise." you sighed at his comment, though the ends of your lips curled up in amusement.

"good thing they didn't get you or else we wouldn't be here right now." you joked, pulling him closer to you so you could rub his head. the demon yelped and tried to escape your grasp while muttering 'hands off my noggin' under his breath, though it was obvious he enjoyed the action as he put no strength behind his attempt.

everything was going well, so well that the two of you didn't notice the magic circle that appeared below mammon's feet and the sparks that began to cover his legs. there was no noise to indicate what was happening, and the two of you didn't realise until the demon just... vanished out of thin air.

you blinked in surprise at the quick flash of light followed by mammon's sudden disappearance. your hand that had been wrapped around his shoulder limply fell down to your side. your eyebrows furrowed in utter confusion and your feet were stuck in place.

"ma-mammon?" you hesitantly called out, your eyes roamed the plaza to try and spot him. the thought of it being a joke slowly started to dissipate the longer he was gone, and a heavy weight began nestling itself within your chest.

"mammon?!" your voice holds more urgency this time, your head frantically looks around in hopes you'd spot his discernible white hair in the crowd.

you don't.

you ran around the plaza, turning over every rock you saw but no matter where you looked, he just wasn't there. the sound of your heart beating wildly rang in your ears and your vision gradually blurred to the point you could hardly make out anything through the tears, yet you still couldn't tear your mind away from the missing avatar of greed.

you tried calming yourself, taking in deep breaths in hopes it would, at the very least, help you think rationally. you shakily unlocked your DDD to try and contact him, only to no avail. it doesn't help your growing anxiety in the slightest, but it does give you time to organise your thoughts.

your thumb shakily hovered over lucifer's contact, unsure of whether to inform the oldest demon lord of what's occurred. you try to recall if any of the brothers have mentioned something like this happening, and your mind can't help but wander to the conversation you two were having before mammon poofed out of thin air.

the only reasonable explanation you could think was is a summoning, given as there was no prior warning to his abrupt disappearance. your thoughts begin to divulge into a different sort of worry with your new found knowledge, mind scrambling at the things they could be doing to him while you were stuck frozen in place.

the knowledge that you are essentially powerless in this situation leaves a bitter taste in your mouth. with a heavy mind, you make your way back to the house of lamentation.

the walk back home and the moments leading up to you burying yourself in his bed were a blur, you hadn't realised just how much time had passed by as none of the brothers came to bother you. on top of that, your DDD had been silent too, there was no sign that mammon had even received your messages.

the occasional sniffle from the lump underneath the pile of blankets was the only indication of life in mammon's cold and dark room. you weren't sure how much time had passed since the incident, not that you wanted to know anyways.

a sudden creak from the doorway has jerked you out of your reverie, your head whips toward the direction of the noise and the tears well up before you can control yourself.

the light from the hallway illuminates mammon's silhouette and you can barely make out his disheveled appearance. a sob wrecks out of your throat and you scramble off his bed. some pillows and a portion of his duvet is on the ground but you don't notice, attention solely focused on the figure leaning on the door frame.

your movements were clumsy and your limbs felt heavy after not moving for ages, but you found yourself standing in front of him soon enough.

mammon avoided your gaze, his eyes, which you noted were unusually nervous, darted around the room. he had a complicated look on his face, as if he was feeling a myriad of emotions and couldn't control them.

a shaky breath made its way past your lips as you took in the sight of him. the demon flinched at your reaction, eyes quickly glancing at you before looking around the room.

the silence constricted around your throat, which made it hard to swallow. your mouth felt dry and your thoughts were jumbled, making it difficult for you to find the right thing to say.

it was clear that mammon felt the same, so you chose to blurt out the next thing that came to mind.

"fuck- just, please- just get the fuck over here and let me hold you." you somehow managed to croak out, your throat felt as if it was closing up but you paid it no mind. the demon flinched at the roughness of your voice but slowly trudged toward you. his eyes are cast downwards, focused solely on the ground and his feather light steps.

his steps started out slow and hesitant, before he rushed into your open arms. he buried his face into the crook of your neck and your hands tightly interlocked behind his back.

you could hear him take a deep breath and his hands gripped the back of your clothes tighter than before. the tears dripped down your face before you could make a move to stop it, though by the way mammon's fists clenched around the material of your top, you assumed that he wasn't as bothered by it as you had imagined.

"please, don't- don't scare me like that again. i can take a lot of things, but not losing you." your voice wavered, displaying your desperation to mammon without him having to see your face. the demon's eyes welled up at the sincerity behind your words and he couldn't stop the tears that trickled down his cheeks.

"i know you're a powerful demon lord 'nd what not, sniffle, but i'm still gonna worry about you." you subconsciously tried to pull him impossibly closer, to which the demon didn't bother to try and fight against, he needed this as much as you did.

a muffled "'m sorry." could be heard from where mammon had his face buried in the crook of your neck, with his forehead resting against your shoulder. the material of your top grew increasingly damp, but you weren't in any place to call him out for it.

you squeezed the demon in your arms ever so slightly, "it wasn't your fault." your tone was sharp and curt, despite your shaky voice from earlier, leaving no room for mammon to refute your words.

the two of you stood at the empty doorway for a moment, simply taking the time to bask in one another's much needed presence. with him in your arms, you felt the knots in your mind slowly untangled themselves and left you feeling relieved.

of course, you still had a lot to discuss with the avatar of greed but that could wait until he was ready. although his appearance was considerably shabbier compared to how well kept he usually looked, he wasn't injured. even while holding him, you had taken the initiative to inspect now that you were closer to him.

"why don't we go lay down? i'm sure you're tired, darling." you softly muttered, not wanting to disturb the peace. you could feel his head moving up and down against your shoulder, though he made no move to lift his head.

your hands tenderly cupped his cheeks, pulling his face away from where he had hid himself. your thumbs wiped the tears that continued to run down his cheeks and all you could offer him was a small, bitter smile.

"we can deal with it tomorrow. for now, i really just want to keep you in my arms." mammon let out a watery chuckle, his sorrowful expression from earlier was nowhere to be found.

© 2022 TEARS0FSATAN. please don’t repost, modify or translate my works anywhere!

#4D0N1S event #៹ ࣪˖. 🎧 light mode﹒☆ #obey me #omswd #obey me x reader #obey me x gn reader #obey me x male reader #obey me x you #obey me angst #obey me mammon #mammon x reader #mammon x gn reader #mammon x male reader #mammon x you #mammon angst #not beta'd #please forgive the switches between present and past tense #if there are any #this has been collecting dust in my drafts for TWO mfing months

[pianofirepirate]

i have beef with Jon Matteson for that Trevor and Richie headcanon

anyway I wrote a fic about it

Until another Richie comes along

Despite being an actor for the hatchetfield High drama program, Trevor Lipschitz is a fairly popular kid. He's friends with some of the cheer team, all his teachers love him and he's even dating the popular foreign exchange student, Rudolf!

However, the same couldn't be said for his brother. Richard Lipschitz was a loser, an outcast with few friends. There were days where he wished he could take his brother's place, wished to be the one who was accepted by his peers instead of being the freak who spent his time watching obscure cooking anime with his weirdo friends.

Trevor is a smart kid, not smart enough to put a target on his back but smart enough to be invited to a writing event in Clivesdale, he wouldn't have gone if it weren't for the encouragement from his teachers. He had to miss the big game to get there on time but he had never really enjoyed football anyway so it made no difference to him.

Richie spent the whole day leading up to the big game slightly celebrating, he knew that without Max Jägermen they stood no chance against Clivesdale but he didn't care, it was the first time he got to truly enjoy being Zeke the fighting nighthawk, it was the first game where his friends would be cheering for him in the stands. He couldn't wait to see them all there.

Trevor sent his twin brother 3 messages that night, 1 just before the game started, 1 at half time and the final message around when the game would have ended, in turn he only got 2 replies. He didn't think it was weird that he didn't get a response, he thought Richie was out celebrating Hatchetfields big win, he did however think it was weird that Richie hadn't the day after, but before he could worry he was swept up in the commotion of the event and didn't have any time to check if Richie had responded.

Richie's last sent text message was to his older brother by 15 minutes, it was a heartfelt message about he was sad that Trevor couldn't see him but how proud he was of himself and of Trevor.

it was Monday evening when Trevor had finally gotten home, the house was quite, usually around this time Richie would be making dinner but tonight he was nowhere to be seen, or heard. It wasn't until he reached the top of the stairs that Trevor finally heard the sound of someone else in the house, the sound came from behind his parents bedroom door.

It was his mother sobbing into his fathers arms.

His parents turned to face him as he slowly opened the door, his mother cried hysterically when she saw her sons face, as his father choked on his words, his voice shaked as he finally explained what had happened to Richie.

#starkid #nerdy prudes must die #richie lipschitz #trevor npmd #angst #not beta'd #jon matteson #my beloathed

[onedaughterofman]

Premature burial (Mary Goore x g/n reader)

Summary: Papa orders to bring someone back from the dead. As his skilled necromancer, you obey.

Tags: Rated T. Description of corpses, rituals, necromancy, a bit of blood. Mary Goore being a weirdo. Around 2.3 K words.

Disclaimer: I’m not a qualified necromancer, please don’t try this at home.

“Bring him back."

Even after time, Papa's words still resonate loud inside your ears. Rummaging through the old wood box he handed you, a small piece of paper catches your eyes. The black ink is faded, porous paper having absorbed most of it years ago. Still, the name scribbled on it is relatively easy to decipher.

Mary Goore.

There are a few droplets of ink around the name and the lines are unclean, as if whoever had written it was in a hurry or holding the pen with poorly contained anger. For a moment, you wonder what could Papa need from this person, what kind of connection he had with the Clergy.

It doesn't matter how much you think about it, there's no answer to your questions inside the box. One leather jacket, an almost empty packet of cigarettes, a guitar pick, and an old cassette booklet is all you find. "Spawn of Pure Malevolence," the black and white artwork says. It doesn't ring any bells inside your head.

As the sun falls down behind the horizon, languishing golden rays barely peeking between the dying autumn leaves, you prepare all the necessary tools to perform the ritual.

The moon is high in the night sky when you first set foot on the sacred grounds of the cemetery. The dusk spreads all over the long forgotten place, from one corner to the other. Years into studying the occult have taught you that death is not a still, unmoving force. Instead, it expands like a disease, penetrating the ground and dyeing the grass of a pale, brown color.

The wood box is sturdy between your hands, old yellowish paper resting on top of it. "Mary Goore," it says, and your mind repeats it over and over again like a chant, like an invocation.

You're calling for him tonight. And he better answer.

Necromancy is not an trivial task. It took you years to learn it, even more time to gather the courage to perform the rituals alone. The dead are in a state of rest and, in most cases, they do not wish to be disturbed for menial reasons. Some of them are nothing but the empty shell of the person they used to be. Some others hold only the rage or fear they felt during the final moments.

Not every person can be brought back in both body and soul, you recognize it.For a long moment, you wonder if Mary Goore is someone capable of standing the shock of the magic, if he'll be able to do whatever Papa needs him to or if he'll be, instead, nothing but a hollow puppet.

Sadly, most of your rituals fall into the second case. You can bring someone back, order them to perform a task and then go back to sleep again. It is rare for them to be sentient, conscious or communicate beyond a few words.

And, of course, it’s truly time consuming. These types of ceremonies can last hours, days, or even weeks before the spirit finds its way back. Besides, it mostly depends on how long the person has been dead. Necromancers prefer to summon the recent departed, since they still retain some lucidity.

In general, that timeframe is limited to twelve months following the death of the physical body. Mary Goore has been gone for more than a decade. Whatever Papa needs, it might be too difficult to find here. Most of your success will depend on the circumstances around Mary's demise.

According to the ancient scrolls, it is believed that in the event of a premature or violent death, the corpse retains part of that unused vitality. If Goore died before his time, then he should still have some energy inside of him.

It is only a matter of carrying on with the ritual and discovering it.

Setting up your energetical barrier, you begin to draw a circle in a desolated spot of the graveyard. This will protect you from the anger of the deceased and other lingering spirits. The talisman required to enhance the protection hangs from your neck, a stable and comforting weight over your chest.

Now, you need a sacrifice and a connection. Sitting on the humid ground, you begin taking out the elements from inside the box. Placing the guitar pick, the cigarettes and the cassette booklet on the dirt, your hands stop when they come into contact with the cold leather of the jacket.

This will do. One arm after the other, you put on the jacket. It looks big on you, and the material is too rigid, creaking with every little movement, but it doesn’t matter. Wearing the clothes of the deceased will help you get into the right frame of mind, allow you to begin with the conjuration.

Before performing the sacrifice, you light up the chosen herbs: a bit of hemlock, mandrake and opium. Taking a deep breath, you let the smoke fill your lungs. The adrenaline is so high you barely feel the sharpness of the dagger in your skin, poking at your finger until the blood tricks down, falling into the offering you laid out on the ground, staining the artwork and the cigarettes.

Closing your eyes, you begin chanting the spell, those old rhymes and words that will serve as a guide for the soul to come back. Over and over again, you call that name into the night.

Come back, come back, come back…

As the time passes, you begin to think this will take more than one session. Yet, you realize that’s not true when the smell hits you. It comes from beneath the ground, a bit of sulfur and smoke, sweet and sour at the same time.

Then come the maggots and the earthworms, rising from the dirt and infesting the grass around your protection circle, climbing up from the tombs. The air feels freezing on your skin, too cold inside your lungs as the temperature descends and descends.

This is new. You’ve performed quite a few necromancy rituals during your time serving the Clergy, but you have never obtained such an aggressive reaction before.

Who is Mary Goore? Why does his presence evoke such chaos around the graveyard?

The answer to those questions is closer than what you expected. A low, horrid growl coming from behind your back makes your whole body flinch. You turn around, hand clutching the protection sigil around your neck.

Goore is standing there, immobile, right at the edge of the circle. He’s covered in blood, face obscured by the remnant of some old black and white paint. It reminds you of the Papal face paint, except this one doesn’t seem to be so detailed, so curated.

Upon sensing your eyes on him, Mary’s head rises and you’re staring right into the darkness of his pupils. Those lifeless eyes are set deep in his face. He jerks his head violently, dirt and insects flying off his hair.

It worked. Mary Goore is back, from the dead, from beyond the grave.

“That’s my jacket.”

The sound of his voice is raw, raspy, barely audible over the beating of your heart. This shouldn’t really be possible. Goore has been dead for too long to have retained consciousness like this.

When you don’t reply quick enough, he continues. “Give it back, you thief.”

Swallowing doesn’t undo the knot inside your throat. Mary stays still, body swaying in place. He’s wearing dark pants ripped at the knees, a gray battle vest full of patches. The toe of his combat boots toys with the salt that forms your circle, not touching it by a few centimeters. It’s like he’s testing his limits, analyzing how far he can go before your magic stops it.

Again, you think this shouldn’t be possible. The hair stands at the back of your neck when he locks his gaze with yours, not a single light behind them. It’s such a morbid scene. It makes you feel as if you have accidentally unleashed an unknown force, resuscitated some kind of ancient evil that takes the form of a long dead rockstar.

Whatever the case might be, you have to take the reins. “Mary Goore,” you begin. “I’ve brought you back to the world of the living. From now on, you obey my will.”

A deep, slow chuckle is all the answer you get. He takes a step to the side, beginning to walk around the circle searching for any crack, any weak spot. It reminds you of a predator stalking a prey.

You will not allow it. “Don’t try me. I have power over you.”

“Do you, Necromancer?”

Goore doesn’t seem intimidated by you, not one bit. If anything, there’s a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I can undo the spell that binds you to this realm,” you warn. It doesn’t work.

“Is that so? Do it, and then you’ll have to drag my dead body all alone back to the grave. I’ve been told I’m heavier than I look.”

As Mary lets out another series of short, breathless chuckles, you go over the ritual in your head. Every little part of it was performed perfectly, with all the caution required. You made no mistakes. Then, how is it possible for him to have such independence, such freedom?

When Goore leans farther ahead, the energy coming from him strikes you right in the face, right through the barrier. Even if there are no holes in your protection, you can feel the raw energy exuding from his pores, the crude anger that causes you to falter.

There has to be an explanation. “Tell me how you died,” you command. He stops laughing, staring at you through long, dark eyelashes. After a moment of consideration, Mary indulges you.

“Oh, you know. The usual,” he says, shrugging his shoulders. “Fell asleep during a bad flu, woke up inside a coffin, mouth sewn shut and so fucking cold.”

Fuck.

“You were buried alive.”

In the middle of the gloomy graveyard, Goore’s pupils shine like two lanterns. The moon reflects on them, filling the dead scleroid with light. “Yes, I wouldn't recommend it honestly. Those dumb motherfuckers thought I was dead. Or maybe they just couldn’t wait to get rid of me.”

Again, the energy hits your body like a wave. This man was trapped in a premature burial, and now his spirit is full of anger than cannot be tamed. He was kept for years in a prison underground and now, he’s prepared to let it out.

A demon. You’ve unleashed the devil.

Never stopping his stalking around your circle, Mary continues. His voice becomes louder, harsher.

“Do you know what happens when they bury you alive? You feel like your joints slowly freeze, how your body begins to decompose even if your heart is still beating. And no matter how loud you try to be, it’s always nothing but a silent, voiceless scream,” he says, fingers running through his hair.

After a few seconds, he continues. “It’s so dark inside that fucking box. A boring place to spend all eternity. It makes you wish you could die faster, so you can finally burn in hell.”

Under the pale moonlight, he does look straight out of hell. A beautiful, scary sight that has put you under a spell. This man is evil, full of resenting and hate, someone who only wishes to expand doom on this earth. A profane saint, born under the midnight sky, hugged by the shadows and the chaos.

Maybe you’re beginning to understand why Papa wanted him back. He could be good for the Clergy, a new influence for the Ghost project.

Ignoring your inner turmoil, Goore stops right in front of you. He’s still outside the protection barrier, staring right ahead with a tilted head. When he notices you’re watching him up and down, a small smirk tightens his lips. “Well, at least I was an attractive corpse. Can’t complain about that one.”

“That's enough,” you stop him. “I’ve brought you back following the orders of my boss, the head of the Church of Satan. You’ll meet him tonight.”

Again, there’s a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Satan?” He inquires. “Whatever. Can I at least have my jacket back or some cigs? It’s freezing out here.”

It’s useless to try to remind him he’s dead, and he can’t feel the heat. Your fingers trace the metallic zipper of the jacket, following the shape of the sharp teeth. Slowly, you remove it from your body, those dark eyes never looking away.

“Try anything, and you’re back underground.”

“I’ll behave nicely,” he promises, but there’s not a single clue of honesty there. “Come on, I just fucking want it back.”

Inch by inch, you get closer to him. Mary doesn’t move. Body tight and muscles tense, he stays put in place. You’re not even certain he’s blinking as you stretch out your arm, jacket hanging by the tip of your fingers.

Gradually, Goore lifts up his arm in your direction. You feel his energy grow steady, like the background noise of an engine. As your hand exits the barrier, the rumbling becomes an energetic growl when he grabs your wrist, yanking you out of the circle.

Violently, your body hits his, the smell of wet dirt and blood filling your nostrils. This is the first time you realize his eyes are a blue light color, and not just dead, black pools.

Fuck.

Fuck no.

This has never happened in the past.

Before you can fully react, the leather jacket is on his shoulders and you’re on the ground, wet grass under your fingertips. You hurry to your feet, debating whether or not you should reverse the spell or try to regain control.

It’s useless. Mary turns around, fingers fidgeting with one cigarette. “Now, none of that doe-eyed bullshit. Let's go. You said someone important wanted to meet me.”

Leaving the cemetery behind, you follow him into the night.

PD: Mary Goore, what a (hot) weirdo. Just keep my lifeless body away from him and we're good.

It's my fist time writing him, so I hope it was good! This was supposed to be less than 1K words long, but I got carried on. Ask box is always open if you want to say something ♥

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