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theblueflower05 · 1 year

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The Sweetest Sylaung

A/N: So I def didn’t mean to write a novel long Neteyam smut story but here we are. Debating on making this a mini series. Also the anon that requested a “curvy” reader insert- here ya go!(she’s also an Augustine- buttttt you can only see that if you squint lol)

Word Count: 6k+

Warnings: This is smut. Pure smut. Please don’t read if it is not your jam. You are in charge of cultivating your own online experience, you’ve been warned!

Pairing: Aged Up! Neteyam x Human!Curvy!Reader

Summary: After an “accidental” romp in the forest, you do your best to avoid Neteyam. It’s for everyone’s good, or so you’ve convinced yourself.

“I’m begging for you to take my hand, wreck my plans. That’s my man”- Willow, Taylor Swift

The kaleidoscope of colors explode under your eyes in endless patterns and shapes as you look over the sample of Pandora flora under the heavy duty microscope. This particular piece of the Moons terra had never been discovered before, only blooming at what you estimated to be every ten or so years, under the right monsoon like conditions

At least that’s what you had discovered so far.

The flower, which sprouted into a berry, and then dissipated into a moss like cluster of microorganisms all within its short life cycle had turned into your passion project. You we’re doing your thesis on it, the last step in getting your Masters.

You’d gone through schooling on a computer screen, guided by the greatest minds on Earth that had relocated to Pandora. Scientists of all fields who you’d grown up around. None of them had been surprised when you’d picked up botany. Xenobotany to be exact.

It was in your blood.

The desk your at shakes violently- disturbing your precision like focus. Breaking you straight out of your zone.

“Ugh” you groan, frustrated, raising your head, eyes narrowing at the culprits.

Spider, Lo’ak and Kiri freeze like deers in the headlights of your fury. Spiders arm raised, a wad of paper balled up in his hand, aimed to shoot. He lowers it slowly as the weight of your your heavy gaze zero’s in.

“Sorry, cu-”

“I told you guys, if you cant behave to get the fuck out” You seethe. Your nerves are paper thin anyway. Too much screen time frying your brain something fierce as you focused in on your studies. “Is that not what I said, verbatim?”

“You need to chill. You’ve been so high strung lately. Come hang out with us” Lo’ak suggests smooth and unhelpful. As usual. “When was the last time you left the lab?”

You roll your eyes and bite your tongue, trying not to say anything to scalding to the surprisingly sensitive Sully brother. “No thanks. I’ve gotta focus”

“Maybe Lo’aks right” Kiri starts, her face screwing up as she speaks “Eywa that sounds wrong. Nevermind, My brother is never right- but you should come hang out with us. Let’s go swimming- the watering hole is over flowing from the storms”

The deep sigh through your nose isn't calming, even though you pretend it is. You know they mean well, in the most annoying way. That you’d been buried in books and paperwork in the lab for the past couple months.

Hiding from the outside world within the thick walls of Hell’s Gate.

“Can’t. This is important, Kir- but why don’t you guys head down there? Its closer to Home Tree and its almost curfew anyway” two birds, one stone. Its a smart suggestion- but Kiri’s face falls, shoulders sagging and ears lowing. That look had always gotten you-

“I cant today, but maybe tomorrow? The samples are too fresh and I don't want to put them on ice…But I think Max made those Yovo cookie things” That’s only half of the truth, but luckily Kiri’s always been understanding.

She grabs your elbow in her long fingers and tugs you along.

The mess hall had seen better days, but the large open space still tends to be the meeting ground for the humans that were allowed to stay and inhabit the moon. With twelve foot tall ceilings and airtight exits and windows that lead out to the Avatar Program training yards. Its a common room of sorts, a place where everyone gathers. For meals, for mismatched Holidays. But mostly for gossip.

I mean, what else is there to do?

Like currently, you’re deeply engrossed in the story that Doctor Martinez’s, Xeno-Zoologist is recounting. All dramatics and dirty intimate details “It’s true, they’re gonna bring it before Mo’at and everything”

He’s talking about Trevino and Eital’i.

Everyone had heard the whispers, seen the not so subtle signs. The main Radio Tower operator had turned during the resistance, had fought beside Jake and had been allowed to stay on Pandora- better stuck on a foreign planet then thrown in a familiar jail cell. Trevino’s a cool guy, really.

A cool guy who had been sleeping with a Na’vi woman, apparently. The two had kept it under wraps, really private. No one could pin down how or when it happened,,,but to go to the clan’s Tsahik seeking a mating blessing? That’s major.

“You’re lying” you accuse in a gasp as the table breaks into whispers, all wide eyes and shaking heads. “They’re going to mate?...How?”

“It’s not like it hasn't happened before” Another scientist chimes in casually. Like it’s a known thing.

Which it kind of is.

Taboo, yes. But not unheard of, more like untalked about.

Humans and the Na’vi of the forest had lived in close quarters since the overthrow of the RDA. Jake, the standing Olo’eyktan, just had a little too much homosapien in him. Yeah, he’d survived the soul transfer and fully inhabited his blue body- but he never quite grew out of his human roots.

It had been hard, lots of politicking and good grace shown on both parts, but somehow, like all biomes in the vast perma green forest, all had learned to live in harmony. Most Omitikaya kept their distance. Very hesitant about the human presence. They had every right to be scared, hostile. Scarred by man and its weapons and its destruction.

Others had been raised in close proximity to Grace’s school. Had become accustomed to the nearly two decade long human presence on Pandora. Curious and accepting.

You’d heard about interspecies hookups.

Locker room talks that left your ears burning and your heart racing. It usually came from members of the Avatar Program- It tends to set a precedent, when the quote on quote “royal family” of the Omiticaya is a Jarhead and a native woman.

Na’vi are gorgeous, tall and lean but humanoid enough to be familiar…you’re not exactly sure what they see in humans but you know damn well what you guys see in them.

“How do you think that works? The…physicality of it all I mean. Trevino doesn't have an Avatar. How do they fuck-”

You’re not the only one zoning out from the conversation and it’s lewd turn.

You watch Kiri watch Spider and your heart aches for her. What they have is secret, delicate and forbidden. As a woman with high standing in the clan, you knew that her feelings for the boy wouldn't go anywhere. Couldn't.

When they we’re kids, it was cute. Now that they 're both technically adults, it was just plain stupid.

You tell her of the fact, often.

Kiri tells you to stop projecting.

———

The Sully Kid’s are always late. It’s like no matter how hard they try, they cant make curfew. You throw on an Exopack, hurrying them to the fence.

“Yeah, yeah okay mom. Take it easy” Lo’ak shrugs huffily as you yank hard on his arm. “I’m going, Y/N!”

“Not fast enough you strumbeast’s ass! You’re gonna get me into trouble, who do you think your dad’s gonna blame when you guys end up back at Home Tree super late again? Norm chewed me out for that shit last time!” You man handle the much taller than you alien.

Kiri and Spider a few leagues in front of you, already at the mouth of the giant fence. They’re awkward, not in their usual synched steps. You wonder how much of that conversation earlier had gone to their heads?

You’re bickering with Lo’ak, an extremely normal occurrence. He can be a real douche. and had been kind of insufferable lately. You think its nerves about his impending Iknamaya.

So engrossed with getting them on their way home that you don't even notice him until it’s too late.

Neteyam is a skilled hunter, through and through. The youngest in the clan to ever make a kill. Swift and quiet. Beloved.

But around you he feels out of his element. Clunky and awkward, no matter how hard he tries to play it off its like you can see right through him. Its scary and thrilling, sets his stomach alive with butterflies everytime. This is no different.

Showing up to Hell’s Gate to retrieve his siblings was something he had done since he was a child.

He’d used to bleed hours away playing with them at the scientists fortress, but as he had gotten older and his responsibilities had grown heavier- he had little time for it. Still, when ever his parents would send him out on a one man search party to bring them home, he’d jump at the chance.

At the hope of seeing you.

You’re arguing with his little brother, trying not to laugh at something he said and Neteyam knows. He knows he shouldn't feel jealous but he just cant help it. Cant help the acidic twist of his insides.

Especially when he chirps out his family's familiar call, letting his presence be known.

And watches that pretty smile fall right off of your face.

“You’re late, as usual” His voice has a stern edge. It’s annoying, the role he has to play. Kiri is a woman grown, Lo’ak just weeks away from being the same. He doesnt blame them for the way their feathers bristle, almost viscerally.

“Ah, big brother you didn't have to come all this way to get us” Kiri reassures, patting Neteyam on the chest good naturedly. “We we’re just about to be on our way”

Neteyam notices the way you try to look anywhere else but him. It stings because he cant stop looking at you, cant pry his eyes away from your form.

“You all should start heading back before dad notices” Neteyam starts. His father had been busy as of late, harvest season abundant and fruitful this year because of the heavy rain season “I’ll catch up, I need to speak with Norm”

“What? Dad cant use the coms now, he has to send his messenger” Lo’ak’s nose scrunches a little, always questioning. On a normal day it wouldn't affect Neteyam so much, just a normal jab from his snot nosed little brother.

Not today. Not when he’s stretched so thin. Not when you refuse to look at him but are staring at the side of Lo’ak fat head. It feels wrong, makes his skin heat up to the point that it feels itchy and tight.

“That's none of your concern. Head back to Home Tree. Now” He doesn't normally throw his weight around. But he feels the need to puff up big in front of you “Those are orders. Get out of here”

Lo’ak’s less offended and more surprised. One of his oh so human eyebrows cocks, a sly remark in his throat before he scoffs. “Aye, Aye Captain Kiss Ass. C’mon Kiri let's go. See you later Spider, Y/N”

He deuces up Spider, gives Y/N a pat on her small shoulder and glares harshly at his brother before he disappears into the thick brush of the jungle.

Kiri wraps her arms around you in a strong hug, muttering about ‘swimming’ and ‘promises’. The small impish smile she shoots Spider gives YOU butterflies so you don't blame the way he swoons, before she’s off behind her younger brother.

“I can go find Norm for you, bro. I think he’s still out in his Avv, but Max can radio him back in” Spider is none the wiser. Doesn't notice the heavy tension that simmers on a low bubble. Oblivious, as usual.

“Yeah, sure” Neteyam replies, barely sparing the human boy a glance. He’d feel bad for it later, when he could form coherent thought. When his brain wasn't on Y/N issued override.

Spider chatters, good natured. He never got to see the Olo’eyktan in training anymore. He missed his homie.

“Well, I should be heading back. You guys have a good rest of your night-” You’re already turning on your heels when you make the announcement, eager to get back inside. Back behind the safe walls of the lab- far away from Neteyam.

“No”

Neteyam who stares at you with all too knowing eyes. He looks straight through you like he can see through your clothes, through your thinly veiled escapism attempts. He reaches out, wraps his long fingers around the top of your arm and tugs you back to him. Gentle, but very firm.

He doesn't have to say it- it’s written all over his face. Not this time. He’s not going to let you run away from him.

“Netey-” You start in a whine, tugging on his hold. He doesnt relent, if anything his fingers tighten as his eyes narrow. Dangerous, desperate.

“Just talk to me” it’s a barely concealed plea, his tail twitches anxiously behind him “I'm just asking for five minutes. Please Y/N”

Spiders oblivious, yes. Stupid? No. He doesnt know exactly what's going on between the two of you but has clued into the fact that it’s heavy and he wants no part of it.

The excuse he makes is shit- he’ll just go find Norm. Yeah… he’s so out of there.

“What is wrong with you?” You hiss as you watch Spiders awkward, quick retreating form. Eyes flickering over the empty for now training yards “So much for keeping it lowkey, huh? Could you be anymore obvious?”

“What’s wrong with me?” Neteyam is almost shaking with disbelief “What the fuck is wrong with you? You havent talked to me in over a month. Everytime I make any kind of attempt you bolt. I dont-” He sighs, pinching the wide bridge of his nose with the hand that isnt holding onto you.

He looks tortured. Tired. Run a little ragged.

Beautiful.

“I don't know what I did? If this is about that day in the forest-”

You sigh at his words, once again pulling on his hold. Shaking your head desperately because you can't.

You can't talk about it. Fuck, you’ve been trying not to even think about it.

And failing as you replay the event over and over again the darkness of your bunk. Hyper fixating on the way that his lips had felt against yours. Oh the way that his big hands had worked your body over

“Don’t” you whisper “Please don’t”

You’d never been one to beg for pity, for mercy but that’s what you do now. Beg him to let you out of his tight clutches. Metaphorically and physically.

“You’re all I can think about” It's a gutted admittance, but Neteyam makes it all the same “That night- I can’t sleep. I can barely eat- I’m falling behind on my duties because I keep coming back here. Standing outside this fence and waiting for you. I know you could hear me over the coms, right?”

And you could, a few weeks or so ago.

When he’d begged you to come out. To come speak to him. His voice so appealing that you’d almost caved. You’d had to turn off your receiver. Had sat with your head in your hands for hours as you fought the urge to crawl to him, knees raw and your bloody heart on a platter only he could divulge in.

He shuffles closer, all lean strong muscle. Firm, unmovable. “You heard me”

“Of course I did”

“And you still left me out here” He scoffs, head shaking slightly as his adams apple bobs, his ears are pinned to the sides of his head in obvious distress “I could never do that shit to you.”

“One of us needs to be the adult in this situation” Your voice is as strong as you can make it. Trying to speak reason on to both of you “We can pretend it never happened and go back to the way that things were before. You’re my friend, Tey”

You reach up, stroking at his wrist. Trying to soften him enough for him to let this go. Let you go.

He’s trying to control his breathing, all that training for all of those years for what? One fragile human girl to make him completely unspool? To lose any and all composure he’d worked so hard to gain.

He was always the adult, in all situations. Had been born with a neck cramping crown on his head. Shrouded in pressurized glory.

“If this is me being childish, so be it. Where has pretending gotten you, huh? Look at you, yawntutsyìp. you look so tired. When was the last time you slept? Kiri says you spend days in the lab without resting”

His hands, both of them, come up to cup your face. Huge and calloused. Yet he holds you like you're something precious. A small animal, a rare gem. His whole entire world since he was just a boy.

Neteyam thumbs at the cool glass of your mask, tenderly. The bags under your eyes are sunken and bruised. “Don’t shut me out”

Your body, in its entirety, clenches at his words. Velvet and sincere. He’s a fucking dream. Your head leans into his hands, neck sagging of its own accord as any and all words of protest leave your weak mind.

He makes you so easy.

“Let me in…I dont want there to be this distance between us anymore” He hisses around the word distance. Hating even having to say it “I want to be inside of you again”

Your plump lower lip gets skewered between your teeth, eyes screwed shut as you remember the last time. Your first ever time being full…you’d dreamt of it every night since it had happened.

If it wasn't for the blasted mask and your need for Earth’s oxygen he’d kiss you. Right here right now. He didn't really give a shit who saw or what they had to say.

Instead pulls you into his chest, lets you wind your arms around his lean middle and bury your chest in his diaphragm. Its as close as he can get you, for now. Makes you cling to him the way that he’d clung to every thought of you for the last weeks.

You wish it was lungfuls of his skin that you were taking as you try to bring yourself down from this abrupt shaky high. You dont get it, how your relationship couldve flipped this hard in such a short time.

He had always just been Neteyam. A shameless flirt yes- but that’s all it was.

“Would you like that?” He questions, hands working through your hair. Fingers light and soothing on your scalp. Massaging the thoughts right out of your head.

“Hmm?”

“If I was inside you again?” He presses on. You can feel the tickle of his long, thin, tail as it wraps around the back of your calf and you groan, digging your nails into his back.

“You’re such an asshole. Stoppppp it” You’re embarrassed and turned on and already feel stupid enough, he doesn't need to rub it in. His chest shakes as he chuckles.

“I’m serious. Tell me you want it-”

“Neteyam! Hey!”

The two of you break apart in an instant. You jump away from him as though struck by lightning. Instantly putting enough distance between you and the Na’vi that maybe, just maybe an onlooker might think that the embrace was friendly.

It’s Norm, having heard that the eldest Sully was looking for him he’d come eagerly.

The smile you plaster on is forced and honestly, Neteyam doesnt fair any better. He’s obviously flustered, just glad that his erection isn't tenting his tweng.

“Spider told me you and your dad are looking for me. I’m not intruding on uh anything, am I?” Norm looks between the two of you.

Your arms are folded tightly over your chest and Neteyam is rubbing at the back of his neck, strong jaw flexing as his teeth grind.

Oh yeah, Norm had definitely interrupted something.

Knows for sure as you scurry away. As Neteyam, always so level headed, has to string together words. Stumbling a little bit as he tries to remember the message that Jake had relayed.

It’s not any of his business, he thinks at the time. He sure didnt want to be the one to shine the light on whatever the hell was going on here. Turning a blind eye to the mysteries of Pandora is the only way to survive the harshest terrain known to man.

———

You dont know that though-

No, you’re spiraling more a little bit as you prepare yourself for bed. Brushing through your thick hair and staring out into space as your mind assaults you with all of the gnarly ‘What If’s’

Norm had seen and he had to know right? Oh god, what if he told Jake?

You balk. Lowering the brush as your eyes bulge out of your head.

What if he told Neytiri?

That's actually a super horrific thought. Like nightmarish. You have a lot of respect for the future Tsahik...

…And a very healthy does of fear. She didnt like humans and made it known. She tolerated them only for her husband's benefit. What if she found out that her eldest son, her golden boy, had fucked one?

You’re freak out is interrupted by static, by the beeping of your com receiver on your night stand.

“Y/N?” its Neteyams muffled voice through the device. You’d ignored it once. You should ignore it again…

“Yeah?” you wonder if he picks up on how shaky you sound through the receiver.

“Tomorrow night meet me at the East Gate. Like when we we’re kids” he’s not really asking. Not demanding either. You could ignore him again, but he has to try.

The line goes silent, quiet for minutes on end.

“Y/N?”

You’re so stupid. “What time?”

You can hear the grin he’s sporting as he replies “0100”

“Got it, over. Good night, Neteyam. Go to sleep”

———

The East Bay is on the other side of the large fortress-like building. It's not that it's forbidden, or anything. but it is deserted. It’s where the military personnel had inhabited, and since most if not all of them had gotten the hard boot off Pandora it was empty as a ghost town in these maze like halls.

When you we’re younger; you’d caught Spider sneaking Kiri and Lo’ak in through the rarely used entrance. You’d demanded the know how, if he didnt want you to rat on him for it. It was a rare occurrence, but the Sully children had all been snuck into Hell’s Gate this way over the years.

You type in the codes, disabling the alarm system in order to usher Neteyam into the pressurized, air lock. You’d toted one of the Avatar Exopacks along for him, they’re heavier then hell but he’d need it.

“Hi” you smile, suddenly shy as the tall Na’vi man stands before you.

That's what he was now. A man, not only in the eyes of his people but as a whole. Broad and muscular, strong. Verile. The next leader of his people. You know that he’s highly desired in his clan. Women fawn over him. Vie for his attention.

It doesnt feel real that he wants to give it to you.

You’re nothing special. Not tall and stunning like the Omaticaya women. Even by Earth’s standards you're short, curvy. Not particularly pretty. Insecurity gnaws at you, as it so often does.

“C’mere” Neteyam urges, boldly yanking you by your waist. Pulling you flush against his body. Grabby and insistent, he wants to feel your bare skin. All plush and soft, hes been dying to taste it since the last time.

Kicking himself over and over for not savoring every bit of your body that you gave to him. He won't make the same mistake again.

He’s not gonna lie, the concrete and metal of the walls inside of Hell’s Gate have always made him a little claustrophobic. But he can't do this outside-

His lips capture yours, demanding and needy from the jump. Big, over powering, he swallows your little chirp of surprise. Devours any and all breath from your lungs. Its messy and so good. You hadn't gotten to kiss him last time.

His mouth tastes amazing, his tongue rough in texture just like you remembered. It grates your lips as you suck on it-

“Hey, slow down a little bit” You giggle as Neteyam paws at your ass, lifting you off the ground until you squirm hard, making him release you “Not here, we can't do this here there’s cameras everywhere”

“I don't care” Neteyam pecks all over your face, trying to recapture your mouth as you avoid him “Let them watch, most of those pervs would like it”

And they would know that you’re his. The thought is beyond heady.

You gasp as his sharp canines ghost over the delicate skin of your neck, nibbling on your pulse point “Please- Neteyam”

You firmly push him away, hand on his chest and maybe if you hadn't cut him off cold turkey he would've given you space. Could've pulled away for a moment to let you say your piece. Instead the idea of letting you pull away even an inch is unbearable to him.

No. instead he tosses you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes. He hauls loads heavier then you every day, your protests mean little to him. With his free hand he scoops up the Avv Exo Tank,

“Where to, yawntutsyìp?”

Where too is an old conference room. Its as good as any, and Neteyam yanks a couple cushions off the old couch to act as a brace for your head as he lowers you to the floor, flat on your back.

You’re so pretty like this, he tells you of the fact.

With your hair a mess behind you, your face free of that damned mask. Grinning up at him as you rub your thighs together. He wishes he had that camera that his dad liked to take pictures on. He wants this moment of you framed, immortalized.

“I hate sky people clothes” He mutters as he tugs on the hem of your t-shirt. It hides you, hides all that skin he craves.

“You want me to take it off?” You offer eagerly, raising up enough to start peeling the piece of clothing off. You’re bare underneath, completely. Your breasts jiggle as they’re freed, nipples peaked in the cool air-conditioned air.

“Don’t ever put it on again” He demands, taking it from your hands and tossing it across the room. He’s dead serious, but by the way you're giggling you obviously think its a joke.

He can’t help it, he dives in face first. Rubbing against your soft breasts, obsessed with the way they feel. Heavy, pillowy. He drags his tongue across all of your bare skin. From your clavicle to your nipple. You always smell so pretty, but its got nothing on the way you taste. It explodes bright and savory on his tastebuds.

You let him explore, until your spit soaked and shaking. Your panties sticky as your hips search for any kind of friction. “I need you”

“You have me, my love. All of me” your eyes water at his words. At the sincerity. At how much you want them to be true.

You grab one of his hands and drag it down your chest. Past your soft, rounded belly and into your shorts. He grunts as you guide him to where you’re wet and pulsing. Rythmetically clenching around nothing.

He circles your clit, feather light. More of a tease then anything and you want to sob. You’d thought of nothing but this, touched yourself imagining him. “Tey-”

He smiles around a mouthful of nipple,tugging on with his teeth. “I missed you so much”

“Then be nice to me” you plead, trying to shove yourself down on his fingers.

“We’re being nice now? Were you nice to me when you ignored me?” he can't help it, hurt bleeds into his voice. It had been so fucking painful, knowing that you hadnt wanted to see him. To be with him.

“I’m sorry” you whine, grabbing his face, pulling it from your bosom. “I’m so sorry. I was so scared- I’m still scared but I need you”

He lets you cup his cheeks, lets you plant kisses all over him. The bridge of his nose, his eyelids, his cheekbones. You dote on him, gentle and caring and he gorges himself on your love.

“You cant ever do that again, okay?” He shivers as you kiss his ear, running your tongue along the hyper sensitive flesh “If you’re scared you come to me, not run from me. Do you understand?”

You nod, eager. “I promise, Neteyam”

It’s all he needs to hear, that you’re his. That you won't deprive him of your presence ever again. He doesn't know what he’ll do. He’s a little scared of the man he becomes when it comes to you, you’re not the only one frightened by the gravity of your feelings.

“You asked if I wanted you inside me again? Yes. So much. I never knew I could be that full” it’s like you know just what to say. You light him up from the inside. His fingers begin circling your sopping clit again, this time with intent.

It’s blurry, the fact that your lightheaded making it hard to think. To track what he’s doing to you because somehow Neteyam seems to be everywhere at once. His big body all encompassing as he takes you.

“No-no marks, baby” You try to remind him and his blazing eyes zero in on you in a glare “you know we cant…not where they can see”

You’re right, and he hates it. He’ll just have to mark you where only you can see. Where you can look at your self and be reminded that you belong to someone. That you belong to him.

He doesn't have the patience, cant stop his hands from shaking- the tear of your shorts and panties echos around the room as he removes any barriers between him and the heat at the apex of your thighs.

You cant help the thrill it sends down your spine. He’d…ripped your panties off. You thought shit like this only existed in bad Earth made Porn that you’d found on one of the labs computers.

“Sorry, sorry” his apology is far from sincere though and you can't help but giggle, patting his braids fondly.

The fingerfucking is rough, your wines and moans spilling from you as he hits spots inside of you that make you want to curl up. It’s too good. Too much-

You screech, back bowing as he bends to kiss you, loud and sloppy, right on your wet clit. His big head burrows between your thigs as he delves on your cunt, his long rough textured tongue lapping at the fat puffy lips. The texture difference has both of you groaning.

It’s heartbreakingly good, the kind of good that you’ll never be able to forget. That you’ll crave and need for the rest of your life. Addictive, as he dedicates himself to making you feel pleasure.

Neteyam eats pussy the same way he does everything else in his life, exceeding any expectations. His instincts sharp as he hones in on how to make you lose your mind.

He keeps telling you how good you taste, breaking away for heaving breaths before he reburries himself. The only sounds in the room are the beyond wet sloshing of his tongue lashing and the pathetic noises your making.

He’s eating you alive, you don’t know how you’re supposed to survive this.

His fingers, two and then three fuck in and out of you. Corkscrewing as he loosens your tightness up for him.

“O-ooh” you whine high and reedy as you feel your tummy tightening, the pressure building in a way that makes you feel like you cant breathe. You cant your hips, shoving them down at that perfect angle “Oh, sh-shhhhit. I’m gonna, I’m-”

He doubles down and you’re a goner.

The orgasm is devastating. Sofuckinggood you think you might see stars for a minute there. You can't even scream, you keep letting out these little cries that are more like wheezes. A desprate attempt to get some kind of air back in your lungs-

Which reminds you.

Even though you’re in a daze you wiggle away from him, he hisses at you about it but you swat the top of his head as you reach for the Exo Pack.

You shove the mask in his face, between your legs.

”Breathe, Neteyam” you demand him to gulp down the Pandoran air. Yeah, he could go longer in your environment than you in his but still. Death by giving head isn’t the way you’d like him to go out.

He takes long breaths and you try not to be embarrassed by how soaked his chin is.

When he pulls away his eyes are a little more focused “Thank you, sweet girl. Always thinking about me, huh?”

You nod, dropping the mask. Closer this time for easier access. His eyes quickly zero back in on your swollen pussy, on how wet he got you. On how pretty it looks. His mouth is watering all over again-

When you try to close your thighs, the burning of your cheeks getting to be too much he hisses again. It’s not a sound he often makes and it’s a revelation, he’s so sexy. Almost feral.

“Who said I’m done?”

You’re never going to be able to get over this man “I already came?...”

“Yes? So?” he rolls his eyes, lowering his head, nuzzling at the damp juncture of your inner thigh “You’re still so tight, here feel”

His fingers slip back in you and you mewl, baring down as he scissors the long digits.

“We have to get you loose enough to take me, I don’t want to hurt you” He explains it like you need convincing. Like he has to convince you to let him eat you out. You just re-spread your thighs, relaxing back onto the cool floor as you let him do as he pleases.

It takes two more orgasms that you scream and shake through until he deems that you’re ready. By the time that he begins to slide his cock into you you’re a blubbering, oversensitive mess. You’re crying rivers of tears as you cling to him.

“Hold my hand? Please ” You request and he smiles, kissing your tear streaked cheek as he interlaces his longer fingers with yours.

Humans and Na’vi can fuck, but we’rnt designed to. His dick is overwhelimgly big and will really injure you if the two of you aren't careful about this.

You both gasp sharply as his tip breaches you.

It hurts, it’s agonizing. It’s the kind of pleasure pain that you didnt even know could exist. Everytime you think you can adjust, he pushes in another inch. But oh, how you missed it. Being so full it feels like you’re going to burst. You’re pussy flutters as it fights to take him and you focus in on his face.

It’s all scrunched up in heavy concentration. His lips speared between his sharp teeth in a way that has them almost bleeding.

You can't have that. You tug him into a kiss, soothing the abused flesh with your tongue.

“I-I dont want to hurt you” He whimpers as his forehead rests against yours.

“It’s okay, you’re okay” You hum to him, grasping at his hand even tighter “I love what you do to me. I love how you feel”

When he bottoms out you think he must be in your ribs. Hes still, letting your body get used to him. Trying to be kind. You want to tell him that there’s no getting used to his size. That he could fuck you every day for the rest of your lives and he would still feel just as massive.

“Please” you wail instead “please”

The first gentle snap of his pelvis has you both reeling. Your thighs lock around his thin hips, urging him. You can take it. It only takes a little urging for him to lose himself. The harsh stretch of it has you shaking as your over sensitive pussy tightens. You’re coming again, less intense the the previous orgasms, thankfully.

Neteyam had been so focused on making you feel good that he’d neglected his hard, weeping cock. His balls are so full that he knows he’s not going to be able to draw this out.

You know you have to look stupid, mouth hanging open as you raggedly gasp for breath, letting out punched out sounds as Neteyam pounds into you. You cant look away from his face though.

It’s mesmerizing, all of it. The sounds he lets out. The way that his braids sway with the rhythm of his pleasure seeking body. His broad shoulders, bulging biceps and forearms- you are so fucked.

You’re so in love.

“Please Y/N” He wheezes as you squeeze around him, letting go of your hand so he can wrap both of his arms around your lower back “I can’t hold it. W-where should I?”

Oh. Oh, he’s the sweetest man. He always has been.

You peck his lips, not minding that he’s too lost in his own pleasure to really kiss you back

“Come inside me. Come inside me. Come inside me” it’s a heated chant, broken and breathy by the erratic rhythm of his hips and he buries his head in your neck, wailing in the skin there.

Just for a moment, lost in the haze of sex, you can tell he forgets his own strength. Thrusts into you so hard that you scream out in pain, the mushroom tip of his long cock batters your cervix relentlessly. Its a sharp, startling sensation that you’ve never known but you ride it out for him. Desperately trying to keep your whimpers of discomfort at bay.

When he comes, his whole body goes still and ram rod straight. He hugs you tightly to him. You wish you could see his face. Next time, hopefully.

He’s Neteyam, the mighty warrior. The dutiful son. The next clan leader but as he shakes and twitches and basks in the afterglow you can't help but want to baby him. But stroke his back softly, rubbing the residual tension out of his tired muscles.

He’s your big ol’ pussy cat, you’d always teased. He purrs like one every time you’re affectionate with him.

You can’t help but run your hands along his sensitive spine. Let the length of his tail run through the loop of your fingers. He grins and flicks it from side to side. He’d always thought your fascination with it was amusing.

“Are you okay?” he mutters, still hidden in your hair as he starts to come back to himself and you hum, moving up to pat his braids.

“Mmhmm” you’re maybe not as capable of making words as you though you were. He chuckles and hugs you. Holds you in his big arms in a way that makes you feel untouchable.

The two of you lie in that room for as long as you can, until he has to start heading back to Home Tree, it’s almost morning and his parents are early risers. They’ll look for him if hes not in his tent…

It's hard. Letting him go. Even though you know he’ll be back. You keep pulling him back in for kisses, holding onto his muscular arms until he laughs and peels you off of him.

“I’ll be back my love. I’ll always return for you”

You frown but agree, pushing him away to get re-dressed- “How am I supposed to go back like this! Neteyam I don't have any pants!”

He’d shredded your shorts and panties. Literal tatters of cloth are all that’s left.

Neteyam cracks up, almost keeling over. Thinking he’s oh so funny. It lightens the situation and makes letting him go- watching him disappear back in the forest a little easier.

You end up having to pull your fortunately oversized t-shirt down as far as it can go as you make a mad dash across the facility, back to your dorm. You fall asleep grinning, thinking about how the panties had been a necessary sacrifice.

———

Norms on late night watch, keeping a bored, admittedly not sharp enough eye on the security camera’s feeds. With the rainy season, came an influx of Slinths’. It made sense to have a lookout, and somehow he’d gotten saddled with an overnight shift.

He’d definitely fallen asleep for a few hours. Not that he’d tell anyone of that fact.

There is nothing that could prepare him for what he see’s on the screen, over in the desolate East Bay. First, he thinks that he’s hallucinating, his sleep bogged eyes playing tricks on him.

He rubs them hard with his knuckles, not believing the image that is large and clear on the security footage.

It’s Neteyam. Inside the facility which almost never happened. And he’s bending down, his lips locked with Y/N’s . Kissing her hard and long before she punch’s in the code, and opens the air locked door to let him back out into the shadowy eclipse.

Norm’s learned a lot living on this strange moon- Pandora was mysterious. Full of things his brilliant mind would never understand. So he does what he does’ most of the time.

Minds his own business.

So I’ve had this idea cooking for months, but didn’t have the bandwidth to get it written down. The ideas wouldn’t translate to page and I still kind of feel like they didn’t butttttt whatever. This is pure self indulgence. I am so much more in love with Neteyam now. He is SUCH a good guy. Ugh.

Also, please remember that my requests are OPEN! Send in all that good shit. Come blue alien brain rot with me!

#neteyam x reader #neteyam smut #avatar neteyam #aged up neteyam #neteyam x you #avatar smut

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mastermindmiko · 1 year

Text

Blood traitor

Pairing: Sirius Black + fem!reader

word count: 5149

summary: Y/n Avery has always been best friends with Regulus, and so by association, she’s also been around Sirius a lot. What she didn’t know is why he always liked to annoy her.

Trigger warnings: Misogynistic views, Voldemort, kissing, shouting, disgusting men. let me know if there’s anything less.

A/n: I’ve intended for this to be a two part one shot, but I’m not really sure. If I do decide to make a part to I’ll put a link for it here. Let me know, if I should do another one.

my masterlist

Requests are open

She sat next to Regulus as you watched the older pureblood couples dance and talk. She didn’t know why she had to be at this function, there were no other kids her age but Regulus, and he didn’t seem to be having a good time either. She could feel the tight material of her dress poking her skin and she reached a hand to her arm where the dress was clinging, hoping to pull it a bit, so it would release its tight hold. The words of her mother echoed in her ears, “Leave that dress alone, and stop fussing.”

Her hands fell back to her lap, but she couldn’t help but shuffle in her seat. The older kids were talking about their schools. She could see Bellatrix, Narcissa, Lucius, Crabbe, Corban, Antonin, Amycus and Alecto, and of course, her older brother, Avery. They were all from either Hogwarts or Drumstrang, being ten meant that she listened intently to the fascinating stories about the teachers, the houses and the curriculum. Her whole family’s been sorted to Slytherin her whole life and so, she listens to them as they talk about the amazing house of emerald green and silver.

“Where’s that cousin of yours?” Her brother asks Bellatrix, and she turns around to scan the room, notices Narcissa then answers, “You mean that filthy red blood traitor? He’s no family of mine.”

Narcissa places a hand on her sister’s shoulder and says in a soft voice, “Now, Bella, he could still do great things, we all know that the sorting hat makes mistakes.”

Bellatrix only scoffs, and then Lucius supports his almost finance, “It does make mistakes we all know it was created by that awful Godric Gryffindor, and all gryffindor’s are idiots, we must assume that he was the origin of that idiocy.”

There were a few laughs from the rest of the group, and Y/N furrowed her eyebrows in confusion as she leaned to her side, closer to Regulus and asked, “Why are they calling Sirius a blood traitor?”

Regulus re-focuses away from the group, and looks at her to whisper, “Sirius was sorted into Gryffindor and not Slytherin.” He explained, simply, but she still didn’t understand. She asked another question, “What’s so wrong about Gryffindor?”

“It’s not Slytherin.” Regulus replied, and she pursed her lips as she leaned back into her chair. She scans the room again and looks around at all the people there, laughing, drinking and talking. She didn’t want to do any of those things, and so her eyes found the clock, 7:30, it read. She slumped back down further as she let out an annoyed huff, still a long way to go till the end of the night.

A loud shout was heard and for a split second the whole room went quiet till it erupted once again into loud chatter. She looked at the stairs where Walburga Black walked down, she paused near the end of the staircase, brushed a strand of her hair out of her face, puffed her chest out and plastered a wide smile. She walked towards the groups of people huddled together, no doubt either talking about the Dark Lord or the ministry.

A few seconds after that, sirius wobled down the stairs with his arms folded in front of his chest. His expression screamed, ‘not amused’, and he had his eyebrows knitted together. He walked down a few more steps then saw her and Regulus sitting together. He looked at the group of older kids, then decided he wanted to be with them, or at least she assumed so, since he started walking towards her.

He pulled out a chair loudly, and it screeched against the marble floors, causing a few near-by adults to grimace at the sight of him. He huffed down on the chair and sagged against it, his hair - that was longer than the last time she saw it- cascaded over his face and he blew it away with a huff. She was about to say hello, when she was forced to straighten up by two strong hands on her shoulders. Her face fell into a frown as she noticed the way her mother fixed her posture and leaned down to whisper, “A lady never sits with an arched back, and especially not in front of guests.”

“Now…smile.” Her mother ordered and she tried to force a grin to her face. Her mother gave her a satisfied look and then walked back to her dad where she placed her hand on his forearm and smiled at the others. The smile fell off her face as soon as she was out of her mother’s sight, and she felt Regulus pat her shoulder sympathetically.

“Getting used to your future life, now, are we?” Sirius said with a teasing smile on his face. He pushed his arms back, behind his neck where he could unclip his bow tie then slam it on the table. He rubbed his neck and sighed gratefully as if the bowtie was choking him. She both warned and advised, “You should wear that or your mother will have your head.”

“My mother will try to have my head either way, so it doesn’t matter, and besides worry about Regulus over here, he isn’t wearing one, and you wouldn’t like to have a husband with no head now, would you?” Sirius said in an arrogant tone, as he then smirked when she blushed at the word husband. She looked to her side to make sure that Regulus wasn’t wearing a bowtie, and he was not. She turned to Sirius, “Regulus wasn’t instructed to wear one, unlike you.”

“And we’re not married yet.” Regulus says in a shy voice, his cheeks also coated in pink. The reminder caused her cheeks to also turn pink, and she leaned back into her chair, then she fixed her posture quickly as if she was burned. Sirius darts an eye over both of them, noticing her expression then he says, “But that’s the thing, dear brother…yet.”

Their attention gets stolen by the sound of someone tapping their less than half full glass with a spoon. The sharp noise causes the chatter to die down, and people turn their gaze to the source of the sound. From one corner of the room, her mother and father stood up, with their arms hooked and their faces smiley. Her father started, “We have an announcement to make.”

“Our son, Avery will transfer to Drumstrang due to their interest in the dark arts which will help our son in the near future when becoming a death eater.” Her father continued, and she furrowed her eyebrows in confusion, she didn’t know anything about that. Regulus leaned closer to her with a similar expression and asked, “Did you know anything about this?”

She shook her head then hushed him, softly, so she could hear the rest of the announcement. Her mother explained, “We will be moving to the far north of Europe where Avery could easily attend Drumstrang.”

A few happy noises were heard from the crowd happy with the news while y/n’s eyes widened as she tried to take in the news. Regulus seemed to be struggling as well, so he took her hand in his and squeezed it tightly. He was thinking that maybe that would ground her. Her mother opened her mouth to continue her speech when she was bombarded by several questions about the news. She sat back down along with y/n’s father and they answered all questions with a delighted smile.

Y/n was shocked to hear the news, and she wondered if she would be attending Drumstrang as well. She was only ten, and so she might be going there next year, but that would mean moving, moving away from Regulus, and that was a thing she didn’t want to do. Regulus’ grip on her hand didn’t falter which showed her that he didn’t want the same thing. Sirius’ expression was plank, it showed nothing about how he was feeling. She ignored him, but a part of her felt sad that he didn’t care at all about the fact that she was leaving.

“You’ll write to me?” Regulus asked in a small voice and she turned to him quickly, she couldn’t believe that he ever doubted that she wouldn’t keep contact. She took his other hand in hers and she reassured him, “Of course, I will! Every day if I can.”

They embraced tightly and she moved her head to the side, to see that Sirius had left the table. He really didn’t care at all. She ignored how she felt and hugged Regulus tighter. She could feel her eyes brimming with tears and they started to sting. She blinked them back, hoping that it wouldn’t ruin her makeup that her mother put on for her to hide her imperfections.

Someone cleared their throat from beside them and they broke away to look at who it was. Her mother was standing with her hands on her hips, her mother always exudes confidence, and she was envious that she didn’t have that. Her mother had a slight grin on her face, and she said, “You’ll have time for that later, come.”

Her mother didn’t give her a chance to say anything before she twirled around, the elegant dress following behind her and walked away. Y/N shuffled quickly to stand up, and she moved around her chair to try to follow her mother, from the corner of her eye she saw Regulus bring a hand to his eye. He cared and that’s what mattered, she thought as she noticed Sirius sitting back down at the table, already starting to tease his brother.

Her mother stepped into a small corner far enough from anyone who could overhear, and she waited for her daughter. She looked at Y/n sternly when she hadn’t caught up and she frowned. Y/n moved quickly to a jog as she reached her mother. Her mother’s frown didn’t move as she whispered heatedly, “Ladies don’t run.”

Y/n’s face fell to the floor and her face sank more, if possible. Her mother leaned down, so she could speak and no one would hear them. She started, “Listen to me, and focus. The Blacks have been kind enough to let you stay with them, and so you will be a near angel when it comes to repaying them. You will help with the chores and you will do as they say. You will show your interest in the young boy and ignore the heir, we wouldn’t want any of his ideas getting into your head. Don’t embarrass us.”

“I’m staying here?” she asked, hopefully, eyes wide. Her mother rolls her eyes and pulls her in by her shoulders, tightly. Her mother continues, “Yes you will, and you will attend Hogwarts, Slythein of course, and you will be successful, I’ve already asked that the Narcissa keep an eye on you.”

She nodded her head quickly, and her mother then released her, going back to her full height. Her mother takes in a deep breath and then straightens out her wrinkle free dress, walking back to the centre of the party. Y/n waits till her mother is far away and then she starts running to her table. She notices a few older ladies looking at her, and she immediately slows down her pace, reminding herself that ladies don’t run.

She walked quickly, trying to keep the excitement at bay while she sat down at her chair quickly, not even making sure that her dress was straight. Regulus watched her bright smile with confusion until she said, “I’m not moving, I’ll be staying with you!”

“And you’ll be going to Hogwarts?” he asks and when she nods, he beams beside her. He barely gets the chance to open his arms before she nearly throws herself on him, wrapping her arms around his torso. She giggles lightly, and then sits back down. She hears, “That’s good news.”

She realised that Sirius said that and she pursed her lips and ignored him. He didn’t care in the slightest that she was leaving, why would it be good news to him? She turned back to look at Regulus and he said, “There’s an empty room in front of mine, maybe that’ll be yours.”

“Maybe!” she said, excitedly. She couldn’t wait to spend all of her time with her best friend, and they could play games and have fun together. She wouldn’t have to wait till her parents prepare a sleepover once every few months, everyday will be a sleepover. Regulus asked, “Do you know when you’re moving in?”

“I don’t know.”

***

“Oi! Y/n” Someone from behind her whispered, a voice she knew all too well. She pulled the potions book closer to her chest, and started to move a bit faster. She could hear his footsteps pick up and she started to jog, but damn him and his long legs, reaching her in a second. He placed a hand on her shoulder and spun her around. She sighs, “What do you want Sirius? I have to get to class.”

“Slughorn wouldn’t mind if you were a few minutes late.” He said and the rest of his group trailed after him. She rolled her eyes, and shoved his hand away. She said, pointedly, “He wouldn’t, but I would.”

“Come on, darling. I just need-” He starts, but she said, quickly, “Let me guess, you just want my help, but I am not going to give it to you, and I’m not your darling, see whatever girl you’ve got stuck to your side this week, and call her darling, not me.”

“What if I want you to be my babe for the week?” he said with a flirty grin on her face as he leaned closer to her face. She ignored the fluttery feeling in her stomach as she put on a grimace. She lifted her pointer finger at him and stuck it to his chest. She seethed, “Then I would tell you that Potter’s been made headboy because that’s as likely as me being your babe.”

She could see Potter lift an offended hand to his chest, in feigned hurt, but Lupin smacked him on the head which then got them both to start bickering. She rolled her eyes at their childish behaviour. He grabbed her wrist that had the finger that was glued to his chest. He leaned in closer, too close for her to feel calm, hoping that he wouldn’t see the pink tint on her cheeks. He whispered, “I think you’d love it, but the only way you’re going to get it is by telling me the password for the snakes’ common room.”

“Watch it. And you must’ve hit your head hard, if you think I’m going to give you anything.” She hisses at him, and he becomes less amused. His expression became humourless, but there were still bits of mirth in his eyes. He whispers, “You have to start being nice again because…”

He moves a hand towards her hair, and twirls bits of it around his finger. “Your hair’s been looking intact lately, it’s been a while since I’ve pulled it, huh?”

She scrunches her face in anger, and she takes a step away from him. She grips her book tighter and says, “You should know that your silly little threats have become futile. I don’t care if you pull my hair, steal my fries or make fun of the way I talk or walk. You don’t affect me.”

“Pads! Just give it up. We have to mess with Filch, he's close.” Potter says from behind them and Sirius doesn’t take his eyes off of her. He waits for a second then he moves back to the ‘marauders’, and finally leaves her alone, but not before looking back to take a second glance at her.

She turns back to her original direction and moves to her class, hoping that Slughorn hadn’t already explained much yet.

***

“You’ll find someone.” Regulus reassures her as they sit in the library, going over their charms notes for their exam in a few days. She huffs and flips one of the pages of her book angrily. She dips her quill in ink for the fifth time in the past two minutes. She writes an answer to one question from the practice exams book that she found, then she places her quill back down again, the excess ink already dripping down on the table.

“I just don’t understand how everyone already has a date, but me? Slughorn’s party is in a week, I can’t go alone, I’ll be bored, miserable and humiliated. You just had to say yes to Pandora.” She says, exasperated. Regulus rolls his eyes and gets ready to answer to the same words for the millionth time, “I said yes because she needed to make Lovegood jealous.”

“You could’ve given me a two weeks’ notice.” she huffs with her arms folded in front of her chest. She leans on the table, and she says, “We’ve always gone to Slughorn’s dinners together, what am I going to do now?”

“You could always ask someone.” Regulus says, in a know-it-all tone and it makes her roll her eyes. He presses his quill to some parchment and writes a definition of something. She replies, “Regulus, you should know by now that the first half of Hogwarts finds me repulsive because of my house or my family, and the other half think I’m off limits because of you. No one I would ask would say yes.”

“Except for one…” Regulus says reluctantly as his eyes fixate on something behind her, and she turns around to see what he’s talking about. Her face falls when she sees what he’s seeing, Lupin reading and revising while Potter plays with a snitch he owns and Pettigrew and Sirius playing a game of exploding snap. She plays dumb, “Potter’s already too obsessed with Evans to go out with me.”

“Not that one, idiot.” Regulus replies while rolling his eyes. She purses her lips and tilts her head to the side with an innocent expression on her face, if there’s one thing that annoys Regulus it’s when people are being moronic. She hums, “Who else then? Pettigrew is too short for my liking, and Lupin is gorgeous, but-”

“Sirius!” he nearly screams, “If you asked Sirius, he’d say yes.” He sinks in his chair when a few annoyed gazes fall on him, as people note the now disturbed silence. He gulps and he continues to write down his notes, avoiding everyone’s gaze. She leans in closer to him and whispers, “He wouldn’t say yes, Sirius hates me with every fibre of his being-”

“Only because he thinks you do.” Regulus says and then continues writing as something from behind her causes him to stop. She furrowed her eyebrows at his answer, and before she had a chance to continue. Sirius says, “You called.”

“Actually we didn’t.” She turns and replies, quickly. He folds his hands over his chest, and he pulls a chair from beside her, much to her dismay. She groans when he sits down, and puts her head in her hands. He says, “I’m pretty sure I heard my name.”

“Well, you heard wrong.” she replies, hoping that it would shut him down, lifting her head momentarily from her palms. He cocks his head to the side and he says, “That doesn’t matter, now. A little birdie told me that you don’t have a date for this weekend.”

“Who told you that?” she snaps, lifting her head to look at him. He smirks, glad to have her attention. Sirius intertwined his fingers together and brought them dramatically on his lap. He shrugs his shoulders and says, “That doesn’t matter, what matters is what you’re going to do about it.”

“That’s none of your business.” She says, with a flush on her cheeks, she didn’t want him to know about her misfortune when it comes to dates. She could see Regulus watching the interaction, carefully, she hated how Sirius didn’t acknowledge him. Sirius interrupts her train of thought, “I think it is, since I happen to be available this weekend.”

“Why would that matter?” she says, ignoring his hints. He grins, amused, it frustrates her to no end. He leans in closer to her and he says, “Because if you were to ask me, the probability of me saying no is very slim.”

“Now, why would I want to go with you?” she says, ignoring the pleasant feeling in her chest at what Sirius was hinting at. He purses his lips and the words fly out of his mouth before he registers them, “Because no one would want to go with you.”

A sharp pain flies through her chest as she sucks in a deep breath and she grabs her books haphazardly. She shoves some in her arms and the other in her bag. She swings her bag over her shoulder, and looks at Regulus, “I’ll see you later-”

She turns around and leaves the library. She ignores the way she feels her eyes stinging a bit at Sirius’ words.

***

The dinner was boring…as always. However, it was even more boring without having Regulus beside her while they commented on everything that was being said around them. She would’ve not gone in the first place, but Narcissa would’ve told her mother about her failing to do her duties and a howler was something she didn’t want.

Goyle was beside her shoving some type of food she didn’t care about down his throat. Sirius was wrong about what he said, there was someone that would go with her, unfortunately, that someone was Goyle. She resisted to grimace as she acknowledged his obvious lack in table manners. Regulus was seated at the other side of the table, on his right was Pandora and right in front of them was Lovegood and some Hufflepuff girl that she didn’t know.

Slughorn asked Goyle about something related to his parents while she tried to ignore who was only a few feet away from her. Sirius and an older Ravenclaw girl who was his flavour of the week. She really tried not to be bothered by their presence, but it was hard while hearing her incessant giggling as he whispered in her ear. Y/n rolled her eyes every time her giggles would get louder. Occasionally, she could see Sirius press a few kisses on the girl’s neck and the way she would blush every time as if she hadn't already shagged him.

They were disturbing the otherwise calm and professional atmosphere. She didn’t even want to be here, and when Goyle slurped on some snail’s juice beside her, she decided it was time to go. She stood up, abruptly and the chatter died down around her as all eyes turned to her. She flushed under the attention, and turned to Slughorn to say, “I apologise, Professor, but I’ll have to cut my stay short.”

“Completely fine. Are you well, my dear?” Slughorn asked, and she noticed that the giggling finally stopped. She resisted the urge to sigh from relief. She nodded her head with a small smile, “Yes, excuse me.”

She moved out of her chair, and walked out of the room, finally feeling calm when the door shut behind her. She slumped against the wall, then wobbled to the window seat that was opposite to her, ignoring the pain from her heels. She sat down and pressed a hand to her face as she tried to get rid of the memories of her horrible night. “You didn’t stay for the dance.”

She didn't have to lift her face out of her hands to know who it was, she sighed, “I didn’t want to stay for the dance.” She plucks her heels off of her feet and sighs in relief. She didn’t know what made him sit down beside her, but something did. She wasn’t in the mood for his antics and so she turned to rest the side of her head on her hands while she said, “Don’t you have that Ravenclaw waiting for you inside?”

“She can fare well without me for a few minutes.” Sirius said, and he shuffled closer to her, prompting her to move to stick to the wall beside her to remain far from him. She didn’t say a word as she tried to suppress the noise of Goyle’s munching that had engraved itself inside her brain without her permission. Sirius whispered, “I didn’t mean what I said…at the library.”

She didn’t say anything, but she looked away from him. She toyed with her fingers on her lap, and bit her lip. Sirius took this as a sign to keep talking, “It was out of line, and I’m sure that many-uh many people would love to go with you.”

She gulps and Sirius stands after a sigh, and he says, “I don’t know what I was expecting you to say, you hate me anyways.” He starts to retreat back to the room when her voice stops him, “It’s because you hate Regulus.”

“He called me a blood traitor.” Sirius says as if it were obvious and turns to look at her. She stood up and said softly, “Lucius was standing.”

“He could’ve not done that, he could’ve stood up for himself.” Sirius said, and she pursed her lips, both the Black boys were hopeless in their own ways. Neither of them could admit that they missed each other. She bent down to grab her heels, and then she replied, “Not all of us are Gryffindors, Sirius.”

***

She had been drenched in water from head to toe. Her hair was completely wet and her robes were soaked along with her. Her Transfiguration book was ruined and her socks were soggy. She was already late for her lesson, and now she wouldn’t even be able to go. She knew just who was behind this. She screamed, “Sirius!”

From behind one of the pillars, Sirius and James stood with shocked expressions on their faces. The prank had backfired, it was supposed to be for any other Slytherin, they didn’t expect her to be the Slytherin who would fall victim to their prank. James patted Sirius back and rushed off down the hallway. Sirius shouted, “Traitor.”

He walked from around the pillar and he was in her line of sight. She rushed towards him as soon as he appeared and she stood a few feet away as she shouted, “You idiot! You ruined my book and my clothes and now I’m never going to get to my lesson.”

“It wasn’t meant for you-”

“You’re lying. You’ve always hated me and wanted to annoy me any chance given. You knew that I would be the one to come out.” She screamed as she brushed a wet lock of hair out of her face. He held both his hands up in surrender as he said, “It really wasn’t-”

“Why the hell do you hate me?” she shouted as she took a step closer to him, grimacing at the scrunch that her shoes made as she moved. She poked his chest with his finger as she continued, “Ever since we were kids, you teased me, you made fun of me-”

“I-”

“You annoyed me and you pull my hair and you always steal my stuff back at the house-” she continued, “You turned my room upside down and you hate me.”

“Would you just-”

“Why do you hate me? I was so kind to you, and you were only ever mean to me. Why do you hate me, Sirius? What thing about me infuriates you so much that you hate me and make my life miserable?” She rambles on while he tries to get a word in.

“Stop!” he shouts and it makes her mouth shut. He keeps talking, angry, “Would I hate you if I made sure that every prank I’ve ever made never touched you? Would I hate you if I always tried to go to every one of stupid Slughorn’s dinners just to see you in a pretty dress? Would I hate you if I’m the one who convinced my parents to let you stay with us? If I hated you, do you think I would still be hurt every time I remember how you’re engaged to my brother and not to me-”

Sirius didn’t get to keep talking as she cupped his face and kissed him. Sirius’ face comforts into shock before he melts into her touch. He places his hands on her drenched waist, and pulls her closer to him. The action makes the pre-existing butterflies in her stomach erupt. His taste was addictive to her and she couldn’t help but keep kissing him until the air ran out of her lungs.

She parted their lips with her chest heaving and her heart beating wildly. She noticed how one of her hands fell against his chest and she could feel his heart doing the same. She looks up at Sirius to find his face expressionless. His body stings her and she brings her hands back to her body. She rambled, “I’m sorry- I shouldn’t have-”

He crashed his lips to hers again and it took the breath out of her lungs. She finally understood why there were always so many girls wanting to be with Sirius even if just for a few days. He was absolutely intoxicating and a wonderful kisser. She brought her hands around his neck and pulled him closer to her. His hands slipped down to her hips and it made her heart jump up to her throat.

“Meet me at the astronomy tower tonight?” he whispers, his breath hot against her lips once they moved away. She could only hum in agreement as she continued to kiss him.

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heroofshield · 6 months

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Whumpcember Day 10- Freezing (Dragon Age 2 FemHawke & Varric)

Takes place during Act 1 before the mission in the Deep Roads.

@whumpcember

Growing up in Ferelden, Marian Hawke had experienced her share of cold; especially in Lothering where during the winters the snow could pile up almost to the roof. Escaping to Kirkwall, she'd thought that the winters would be somewhat milder since the city was by the Waking Sea.

She was wrong.

"Maker, this wind is brutal." Marian groused as a gust of wind whistled through the streets, drawing the shawl she had closer around her. "How do you deal with it?"

"Layers. Lots of layer and furs if you can afford it." Varric replied, dodging a pile of near frozen horse droppings. "This isn't even the coldest it's gotten. I remember ten years ago when the harbor froze nearly two miles out. Ice was so thick that you could walk on it no worries. Another time there was a blizzard so bad that it took the city the rest of the winter to dig out."

Marian let out a groan, "Don't say such things, Varric. You're just going to jinx it."

Turning the corner and seeing the entrance to The Hanged Man, Varric just smiled, "It's your second winter in the city, you should be used to it by now."

Marian sighed as they walked into the tavern and the warmth surrounded her like a welcome embrace. Flexing her near frozen fingers, she threaded her way through the crowd towards the stairs and Varric's suite of rooms. Standing in front of the fireplace, she felt her muscles start to warm up and relax. "I don't think I'll ever get used to it."

They needed money for firewood.

The winter had been usually cold, at least that was according to those who'd grown up in the city, and they'd had to spend more than usual to keep Gamlen's house heated. So if Marian wouldn't have to dip into the funds she'd been setting aside for Varric's expedition, she needed to take a few jobs. Her reputation working for the smugglers meant that those that knew were approaching her with 'job opportunities' since she knew the best routes in and out of the city to avoid detection. And while Marian knew those guaranteed a payout, she was trying to find more legitimate jobs.

"But those are few and far between. Not everyone wants to work with a Ferelden still." Marian thought as she stared at the household accounts. She'd promised Bethany that she'd take care of Leandra and Carver, and over the past few years she'd realized that that meant she'd have to do things that her younger sister might not have approved of.

"Guess that it's the smuggling jobs until something else comes along." Marian thought as she memorized the details of the job that would get them the coin they needed to get them the firewood that they needed plus some in case the winter decided to stretch itself out.

Hawke was missing.

She'd asked Varric if he was up for a quick smuggling job, but he'd replied that he was knees deep in his latest novel and didn't want to stop mid-stream; if he did then who knows if he'd ever finish the draft before his editor started sending daily letters asking where it was.

Hawke had just let out a laugh and said she better get to read it first before he sent it off before bounding down the stairs towards the main floor of the tavern, calling over her shoulder that she'd be back the next day.

"That was yesterday and normally she'd at least stop by to see if she could get a few free drinks from me in exchange for telling me about it for my next serial." Varric thought as he idly tapped the end of his quill against the paper. "She could just be resting at Gamlen's, it snowed pretty awful last night; had to make the mountain pass difficult to get through."

But the feeling in his gut told Varric that something wasn't right.

So he cleaned up his drafts and hightailed it to see Carver, and somewhat discreetly see if Hawke wasn't just sleeping it off, but she wasn't at home so her brother agreed to help look for her. Then it was to the City Centre and the guard's quarters to ask Aveline if she'd seen the quick witted warrior. She hadn't either and reluctantly agreed to join their small party to go hunt down the woman. One last stop in Darktown for Blondie just in case they needed a healer and they were on their way.

In the interest of time, and hoping that Aveline would ignore the fact that they were traveling through smuggling tunnels, Varric decided to use the Merchant's Guild route he knew would get the to the highlands the quickest. Stepping out into the snow covered pass, the cold air slapped Varric's face and he wished he'd brought his fur lined jacket. "Or at the least my shirt that closes all the way up." he thought, trying to suppress a shiver.

Glad for the snowshoes so he wasn't head deep in the snow, Varric called out Hawke's name as loud as he dared without causing an avalanche, "Hawke!"

"If she's unconscious she won't hear us." Aveline said, drawing her cloak tighter around her.

Varric chose to ignore the statement and continued trudging forwards, "Hawke, you out here!?"

"Marian!" Carver called out, narrowing his eyes against the brightness of the snow.

"Hawke! You still owe for those fines last month!" Aveline called out, knowing that if the woman could hear her then she'd protest. But silence greeted them.

"Search the ground for any signs of footprints, there would not be many traveling through here this time of year." Fenris said, starting to scout ahead of the small party.

They fell silent after that, spread out and focused on the ground-hoping for some sign that Hawke was still alive.

After what felt like an eternity, Carver let out a whistle to draw everyone's attention and they made their way towards him. "Look, footprints." He pointed to the ground where an indentation could just be seen. "Looks like they go off in this direction."

Varric looked in the direction that Carver indicated and in the fading sun could just make out the outline of a cave. "Even if it's not her, we need to find shelter soon. Otherwise we'll be icicles when they find us."

"Maybe who ever made the footprints is still in there and can tell us what happened." Aveline said, unslinging her shield from her back and making sure that her sword wasn't hindered by her cloak.

Anders nodded in agreement and readied his staff while Varric got Biance out and Carver made sure that his sword was ready as well.

Inside the cave it was a touch warmer than outside, but not by much. Their breath still created white clouds in the air and Anders created some mage lights so they could see.

What Varric wasn't expecting was for Marian Hawke to be illuminated by said lights; propped up against the cave wall, eyes closed and slumped over herself.

"Maker's kickers." he cursed as Carver sheathed his sword and made a beeline towards his sister. "Blondie, you're up."

Anders nodded, setting his staff against the wall and kneeling opposite of Carver.

Marian was freezing. The snow had been heavier than she'd expected it to be and that had caused all sorts of problems until she'd realized that she'd be stuck in the mountains without any supplies to get her through the cold night. It had been luck that she'd found the cave and had hoped that Carver or someone would miss her enough to come looking.

Feeling warm for the first time since setting out, she opened her eyes expecting to be greeted to the damp of the cave-not the whitewashed walls of a room in Ander's clinic. Confused, she tried to sit up and discovered that she was nearly being held down by multiple blankets.

"You gave us quite a scare."

Marian looked over to see Varric in the doorway, a bowl of something in his hands. "Oh?" she asked in a rough voice. Clearing it, she tried again, "Did I get bitten by wolves and almost turn into a warewolf?"

"Not as dramatic. Nearly became a human icicle though." Varric carefully set the bowl of hot soup on the small nightstand by the cot. "Good thing we brought Blondie along, he said that a few more hours and it would have been off to see the Maker for you."

Marian carefully pushed back the blankets so she could sit up and brushed the stray hairs out of her vision, "At least you missed me enough to go looking for me."

"Y'know Chuckles, if you needed the coin I would've let you borrow it. Didn't have to be so dramatic and nearly freeze to death."

Marian huffed in amusement, "You know me, I have to make a statement. Besides, we'd just gotten out of the smuggling guild-what makes you think I wanted to go into debt right after that?"

"Could've called it an advance on our delving findings." Varric shrugged, knowing that the casual way they were talking was the way they communicated; through jokes and playing it off like it was no big deal. "Unlike the Merchant's Guild I have reasonable terms. At least you wouldn't lose a limb if you couldn't pay it back."

At that Marian let out a laugh and knew the words that they weren't saying. "At that, how can I say no?"

"Just promise next time you decided on a 'quick job' you at least take two other people."

"I promise to cut other people next time."

"Good. Now drink your soup so I can go back to my writing."

#whumpcember2023 #dragon age #da2 #marian hawke #varric tethras #fanfic #my writing

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ilovefandoms102 · 2 years

Text

Bet On It

Pairing: Fratboy!Chris Evans x Plus Size Reader

Summary: sent in as a request: “Okay fratboy! Chris he secretly thinks you plussize bartender reader are amazingly hot and sexy but his friends dont. So Chris loses a bet and has toget you to even go on a date with him. but he is way to nervous and little does he know you have been eyeing him for weeks. One thing leads to another after work bathroom or pool table”

Note: @janeyboo gave me this wonderful request and I’m going to try and make it a mini series I hope you guys like it🥰

Warnings🛑: mentions of alcohol(all of legal age), consumption of alcohol, asshole frat boys, body shaming, mentions of smut, dirty thoughts(italics)

Part 2

“Dude, you’re staring again.”

Chris didn’t even acknowledge his frat brother, continuing to stare at the beautiful bar tender as you took orders, your smile making his heart jump and his cock throb. You went to the same college as he did, yet he rarely ever saw you on campus. He found his way to get his fill of all your beauty since you worked almost every night at the most popular bar in this college town.

“Chris, bro what do you even see in her?” one of his brothers, Chad, asked.

“She’s the most gorgeous creature to have existed.” Chris answered dreamily, not missing the way your tits pushed up when you leaned over the counter to wipe it down.

“Uhhhhhh, dude are you ok?” he questioned, looking from you and back to Chris.

“Yeah man, not really our type…she’s um-” another brother, Josh inputted.

“She’s fat.” Chad blurted, Chris saw red as he twisted his brothers shirt in his fist and pulled Chad until they were almost nose to nose.

“What the fuck did you just call her?” he hissed, almost daring the frat brother to repeat himself.

“Yo, chill!” Josh intervened between the two.

“You couldn’t even ask her on a date Evans.” Chad challenged

“Round of pool, I lose, I have to ask her out.” Chris smirked as he shoved Chad to the pool table.

What had he gotten himself into?

Of course Chris fucking lost, not that he didn’t want to go out with you anyways but on his own terms. He probably looked like a total creep waiting outside the bar for you, but he wanted to get you alone. Luckily, you saw him first as you were leaving.

“Hey, Chris right?” you asked, your smile so genuine Chris knew he would faint.

You knew his name? Somehow in his mind that made you ten times hotter.

He could see it now…

You spread out on his bed, thighs locked securely around his hips as he pounded his cock in that sweet pussy. Your walls clenching him as he brought you to your orgasm, then your sweet voice calling out his name. He’d fuck you faster then keep going until you begged him to stop…

“You ok?” you giggled, catching him eye fucking you which made Chris want to slap himself.

“Sorry, just um…yes-yes I’m Chris, and you’re y/n right?” he inquired even though he for sure knew your name.

“Yeah, did you need something?” you asked while walking towards your car, Chris scrambling to catch up.

“I was wondering if um-maybe you-if you’re not busy-that we could h-hangout sometime?” Chris stammered, god if he blew this he’d never hear the end of it from the guys.

“This isn’t some kind of trick you’re pulling with those frat brothers of yours is it?” you inquired suspiciously.

It honestly wouldn’t surprise you despite how much you’re very interested in Chris, you’d been eyeing him for weeks now. You knew his frat brothers didn’t like you, you’d heard the names they’ve called you.

“No! Oh god no!” Chris didn’t completely lie.

“Hmm, I’ll think about it.” you smirked, strutting to your car with Chris hot on your trail.

“I’ve been crushing on you for weeks!” he blurted, a deep blush forming over his cute face.

You grinned, happy of his admission for something you were also doing. Chris nervously scratched behind his head in fear he totally fucked up everything. Then, you turned to him, a sexy smile as you closed the distance separating the two of you. Chris looked down at you, his eyes pleading with yours then your lips were on his.

Chris was sure he had to be dreaming, there was no way you were kissing him. Then he finally felt your luscious curves under his palms, taken over by desire as he gripped and groped your waist to your ass. The soft moan you let out almost had Chris cumming in his pants. He was disappointed when you pulled away, both of you panting.

“One date, then we’ll see what happens.” you smiled, giving his lips one last peck before you got inside your car and drove off.

Chris fist bumped the air, feeling like he just won the Nobel prize. His stomach was full of butterflies the whole way back to his place, he couldn’t fuck this up. As he laid in bed that night, all he could think about was the way your lips felt on his and how he craved more. Little did he know, you were doing the same.

This was the beginning of something amazing, as long as you didn’t find out about the bet…

#fratboy!chris #chris evans smut #chris evans x plus size reader #chris evans #chris evans beard #chris evans fic #chris evans fluff #chris evans x reader #plus size reader #chris evans imagine #fratboy au

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losfacedevil · 1 year

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Little Bird // S.F.K

a/n~ This one is a little vulnerable and super personal for me, it’s truly parenthood, when I first heard Little Bird by the Jonas Brothers I had an intense knee jerk reaction, and so this was born. Err on the side of caution and know it’s not exactly what you would think. Please know that as someone who lost her dad at a very young age, this was more of a healing piece for my inner little girl and with a little encouragement from @vanfleeter I’ve decided to share it.

Five years, sixty months, one thousand eight hundred and twenty six days. To put it lightly five years was a long time to hold any title, and he was lucky enough to call himself her dad. He found himself reminiscing on the past and thoroughly thinking more and more about the future as her fifth birthday quickly approached.

He remembered just how scared you both had been when those two little pink lines popped up on that test all those years ago. The tears that had sprang to his eyes as he pulled you towards him, wrapping you in his arms as he whispered sweet nothings to you trying to calm you. How excited you both had been to find out their first was a girl, ‘moms gonna be so excited her first grand babies a girl!’

The first time he held his baby girl will always be in the forefront of his mind. The tiniest human he had ever had the honor of holding, one that looked up at him with such curiosity. Her little fingers wrapping gently around his large pinky the first time he tried bottle feeding her, tears springing to his eyes as he looked at you the biggest excited smile spread across his face.

You almost didn’t survive the first few months of motherhood, post partum depression eating away at you while the fear you would lose your child if you cried out for help boosting the anxiety’s ego. But together you both persevered, coming out on top in the end as her last sleep regression came to a sudden halt.

He shook his head lightly, knocking himself out of his thoughts as she came running into the living room with her bottom lip jutted out in a pout. He couldn’t help but chuckle as he learned forward on the couch, resting his elbows on his knees as he watched her.

“Samuel.” She mumbled, little arms crossing over her chest as he shook his head at her.

“That’s not my name.” He quipped, moving his hands so they were palm up as he shrugged his shoulders.

“Sam-u-el!” She punctuated each syllable with a stomp of her foot, throwing her arms to her sides with her little hands clenched into fists as she inched closer to where her father sat. Though she had her mothers kind eyes she possessed every sassy, shenanigan causing cell her father did.

“That’s daddy to you. What’d mama do now?” He mumbled, reaching out and wrapping his arms around her middle as he pulled her back into his lap.

~*~*~

“I still can’t believe how sassy she truly is.” He chuckled, perching himself on the edge of the bed as you shuffled around trying to ready yourself for bed. You couldn’t help the giggle that slipped past your lips as you turned to Sammy, a light shrug to your shoulders.

“She’s undeniably your child, she sasses you the same way you sass your brothers.” Sammy laughed, nodding his head in agreement.

“I mean she’s learned from the best, what can I say?” He shrugged, accompanying the movement with his hands palms up wiggling his fingers at her.

“I can’t believe she’s gonna be five next month. This is why they say don’t blink, she’ll be eighteen before we know it.” You sighed, throwing your head back before making your way into the bathroom.

Sammy sighed, eyes wandering around the room as his mind began to shift. ‘She’ll be eighteen before you know it’ your words rang in his mind. He held his hand up, fingers splayed as he realized she was going to be an entire handful of fingers.

But what about when she’s ten or sixteen? What about when she starts to show an interest in boys or make up? When she decides she’s too cool to call him Samuel or any variation of dad? Another sigh slipped past Sam’s lips as his mind wandered to uncharted territory, years of her life he shouldn’t even be thinking of quite yet.

He was shaken out of his thoughts by your soft hand being placed against his cheek. His eyes focusing on the world around him as he quickly found your gaze. Your head cocked to the side as a concerned look washed over your features.

“What’s going on in there?” Your voice was gentle, swiping your finger across his cheek to wipe away a stray tear he didn’t even realize fell. He took a deep breath, opening his mouth to speak but snapped it shut as he shook his head lightly.

“She won’t need me anymore.” His voice was barely a whisper as the realization slipped past his lips. Your mouth dropped open slightly, cupping both of his cheeks in your hands.

“She’s turning five, honeybun, not fifteen. Besides if she’s like me she’ll always need her dad.” You giggled, leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

“But what about when she is fifteen, or fourteen? Or even thirteen? What’s gonna happen when she’s outgrown calling me my name or when she’s too cool to call me dad? What’s gonna happen when she finds a boy who loves her? No one’s ever gonna love her the way we love her. Who’s gonna take care of her when we’re gone?” He rambled on, becoming visibly upset as tears welled in his eyes.

You weren’t sure how to react, wrapping your arms around his neck as a shuddering breath escaped him. Tipping your head backwards you willed your own tears away, pulling in a deep breath through your nose as you turned your attention back to him.

“We have so many years before any of that should even be a thought in your head. I’m sure when the time comes she’ll find someone who’s just like you, someone who’s going to love her unconditionally and show her parts of the world we can’t. She already has the best men teaching her what real love is and how she should be treated. There’s no need to worry about any of this right now, honeybun. You’ll always be Daddy Sammy and she’ll always be your Phoenix angel.”

Sam sighed as a strangled sob escaped him, burying his head in the soft material of your sweatshirt. You nodded gently, running your fingers through his long brunette locks, calming him as best you could.

“What happens when she doesn’t need us anymore?” His voice was just above a whisper as he tried to steady his erratic breathing.

“We don’t need to think about that right now. Right now we have the sassiest, sweetest, full of sarcasm four going on fourteen year old. Just enjoy her for who she is now, we’ll cross that teenage bridge when we get to it.”

Sammy nodded, wrapping his arms around your middle as he pulled you down into his lap. A sigh escaping him as he rested his head in the junction of your neck, a soft kiss placed to the warm skin.

“Phoenix and I love you forever, okay? You’ll never have to question it.”

You felt him nod against you as he let himself fall backwards, bringing your body down with him, the weight of your body on his exactly what he needed to calm his nerves. His mind continued to wander, too many thoughts to speak on plaguing him as sleep overtook him.

#sam kiszka #sam kiszka fluff #sam kiszka fic #sam kiszka fanfic #sam kiszka fanfiction #greta van fleet

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mookiwrites · 1 year

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What’s left of the man who had nothing | Part 1:

Death in the family

Finally I find the courage to post this, it’s a bit hefty but I’m quite proud as it’s the first thing I’ve written in a long time (that wasn’t a poem). A fanfic of the Ruggaboors for the lovely and creative genius @yoel-o-fellow. This will have long and short chapters as it goes~

The Ruggaboors belong to Yoel

Hope everyone can enjoy!

————————————————————————————————————————

Roaches, one old lady said under her breath, all of them, disgusting insects!

That was what the ordinary residents of Stoke on Trent thought as the mass of Ruggaboors swarmed the streets in a funerary parade for their latest dead member: Gomorrah Ruggaboor.

The custom was to go all around, to the cemetery and back home, where the remaining family would decide who got what despite what was on the will. For some that was the only semblance of happiness brought, grabbing stuff that previously wasn’t theirs. Sebastian couldn’t bring himself to be sad, nor smile. In all it was just another day for him, but in this one his mother was no longer alive. His knuckle around the clasp of her casket was nearly white, his face cold as ice. Marvin on the other hand was a blubbering mess, holding the casket with one hand and his face with the other. His brother would constantly tell him to get a hold of himself multiple times throughout that day, ten of them during the parade.

At the cemetery there wasn’t much decorum. The priest claimed Gomorrah lived as she died: a Ruggaboor. Whatever the hell that meant for him, it seemed touching for some of the ones present. Others just scoffed, rolled their eyes, maybe weren’t even there and now strolled among the graves searching for what to do next.

— By all blissful hell, Marvin! Dry your face or else I’ll smack ye! — Sebastian told his brother as their mother was lowered to the ground — I’ll push ye in! Dare me, you fool! Dare me!

•••

As the old house was swarmed by Ruggaboors of all ages and familiarity. You cold find a trio sitting between a few boxes deemed unworthy. It was old man Gallagher, staring out the window, with his two nephews who wanted nothing of the socialization. Sebastian entertained himself with a box of his stuff, what a twist! Nothing was thrown out or set on fire as his mother previously thrown in his face. Also Marvin looked around as he still had all of his things, even though his father supposedly threw them in the bay right after he left.

— You boys look surprised… — Old Gallagher slowly turned to face them — They’re your parents, no?

— Yes, that’s why we’re surprised, dear uncle — Sebastian replied eithout even glancing up, marveled by an old BB gun — You knew already? Since when was mum a hoarder?

— Family’s first, Ruggaboor or not.

That statement made Sebastian face his uncle. Gallagher had an uncharacteristic smile on his face, too warm, too gentle. They just looked at eachother a while before the old man faced the window again.

A fight broke out because of some old jewelry and the trio found that amusing for the moment, taking away from the awkward atmosphere that formed. A young girl was up on her mother’s neck, she wanted those pearls they were real or not. Someone’s grandfather fainted and instead of helping, some discussed how they could make the most out of those possibly two funerals. That would make any normal family grimace, for sure, the neighbors were praying that no one died for a couple more years.

— Your mother would love this, she loved the funerals — Uncle said — That’s how she got her pretty dresses and hair bobbits, whatnot, she was an expensive gal.

— And for us she was just a cheap hag

— Jacob! Come on, man!

— I ain’t going to lie just because she is dead, Marvin!

Still gazing outside in his own world, Uncle Gallagher kept chuckling as the boys fought. He looked towards the cemetery were his sister lied alone, almost wishing it was him instead, or that they were together. The twins had only been apart by mere seconds upon birth, then never during their entirety alive, then in the death of one. He wouldn’t admit it but his sister was his world.

But it was not time. Not yet, at least.

He had one last thing to do.

#fanfic #the ruggaboors #fanfiction #historical #sort of

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olivyh · 2 years

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Twst Memory 3: Cater Diamond (Age 10)

Cater finally made it- hes going to be one of the cool kids at the skatepark! But… why does he feel so out of place?

The ten year old grabs his skateboard with sweaty palms, the wood slipping under his fingers a few times. The belt under his neck feels too tight, the helmet itself too hot, even in the slightly chilly autumn air. Doubts bubble in his mind, previous experiences just like these, some good, but mostly the bad... He remembers the time he broke his arm, the time he fell in the bowl and had a long scrape along his face for weeks, the laughter of the other children as he had to be helped out by his father both times.

His face flushes a bright red in embarrassment at the memory. He rehearses what he's going to say in his mind, going over the little scripts he's built up over years and years of trying to learn how to talk to people and make friends.

Go with the script, Cay, He thinks, almost bitterly. As long as you follow the script, everything will turn out fine.

He takes a few shaky breaths, gulping as he sees the large group of kids laughing and having fun at the skate park. Some of them sit on the edge of the bowl and chat, some of them do tricks, others are seated in small groups around benches and fast food wrappers littered around them.

"You've been practicing all summer!" His sister exclaimed when he told her he was nervous. "You'll be fine..." She said before rolling over in bed and going back on her phone. Cater gulps, looking at the older kids doing their tricks- tricks that the boy couldn't even imagine doing- as the grip on his precious board tightens. He looks down at it, the stickers not looking as cool as theirs, his board old and busted, the wood on the bottom chipping, there was even some glitter stuck to the top of the board from when his oldest sister accidentally dropped her makeup on it. Cater shudders remembering the screaming match between the two that occurred immediately after.

He takes a breath, blowing the stray hair that slipped out of his ponytail out of his eyes.

He takes one step, and then another, and then another, and then a step backwards, and then he turns and now he's running out of the skatepark and down the street. He blinks back tears as he crouches behind a brick wall, watching the leaves fall from the trees. He takes gasping breaths as he stares at the ground, wiping at his eyes with his hands, the scratchy padding on his gloves only adding to his agitation.

He grabs a leaf from the ground, one the same color as his hair, a vibrant orange streaked in bright reds and browns, and twirls it in his fingers. He looks back at his board, mind racing. Cater sighs once more, hugging his knees to his chest and burying his face in the small pocket that was created.

"What happened?" A familiar voice calls. Cater gasps and looks up at his eldest sister.

"V-Vie!" He stammers, face flushing a bright red.

"Did you go? I know I dropped you off there..." She takes a sip of her coffee, crouching down beside her brother. Her bright red scarf whips him in the face with a sudden gust of wind and he sputters, struggling to wave the fabric away.

"I-..." He trails off, embarrassed. It was rare for his sisters to take him places, let alone places they didn't want to go. The coffee in his sister's hand was enough proof of her reasoning to go out. The thought makes him huff and cross his arms, turning his head away from her. "None of your business!"

"Woah!" The girl laughs, taking a seat beside the boy. He stares at her blankly, then down at her new jeans, then back at her. "What?"

"You just got those," He starts off slowly, hugging his board to his chest.

"And?"

"And you're sitting on the dirty ground," He says matter-of-factly, raising an eyebrow.

"Whatever, I'm not that stuck up!" She exclaims, taking a sip. She looks over to him and holds it out to him. "Wanna try?"

"No," He grimaces. "Last time it was gross."

"Last time it was plain coffee, this time it's a latte," Vie explains.

"Mhm," He pouts. "Whatever, it's probably gross again anyways."

"It's not sweet at all, I promise," The ginger finally gives in to his sister's begging and he gingerly holds the cup in his hands, careful of the heat that's emitted. He raises it to his lips and takes a sip, smacking his lips a few times.

"What is this?"

"Hazelnut and toffee, good, right?" The boy nods and hands the cup back. They sit in silence, watching the citizens of their small hometown- well, hometown for this year- go about their days. "So..."

"I don't wanna talk about it," Cater huffs.

"But Cay-Cay~!" Vie whines and it makes Cater grimace in annoyance.

"No."

"Cay-Cay~! Pwease~?" She pouts and the boy pushes her face away with his hand.

"What do you get out of being like this to me?!" He snaps.

"Like what?"

"Annoying and mean!"

"I'm your older sister! It's my job to be annoying and mean!" Cater groans and stands, grabbing his board and storming off. He feels arms around his waist and he wiggles, trying to get out of his sister's grasp.

"Vie! Really! Lemme go!"

"Not until you tell me what's wrong!" She huffs. Cater allows his body to go limp.

"Okay! Okay! Now put me down!" The girl obliges and the boy stares at the ground, shuffling his feet.

"I'm not cool enough..." He mumbles.

"Hm?"

"I said I'm not cool enough!" He shouts, grabbing onto his board and staring down at thefaded stickers, doing everything in his power to avoid looking his older sister in the eyes. He lowers his voice a bit to explain himself. "I'm just a kid, and they're all older than me, and bigger, and their skateboards are cooler, they have better stickers, better boards, I mean, half of them aren't even wearing helmets and I have this stupid thing Dad made me wear!" He fumbles with the clasp before throwing the helmet on the ground, along with the knee pads and elbow pads. "They're gonna hate me, and call me weird, and call me a kid who doesn't know what he's doing just because of this!" He doesn't realize that he's getting choked up until he feels his sister's arms around his shoulders. He sniffles and tries to push her off.

"Vie, get off..." He mumbles.

"No, just let it happen," She pinches his shoulder and he groans. "Is all of that really important to you?"

"All of what?"

"Being liked?"

"I have to be, Vie..." He pulls away and wipes at his eyes with his hands. "I can't make friends, not when we keep moving around like this... and I can't keep contact with the ones I do make either. Is it... is it me? Is it my personality? The way I dress?" He wipes at his eyes. "It's gonna be the same way here, none of them are going to like me, not when I'm like this! Not when I'm me!"

"Cay..." His sister crouches so he's looking down at her. "It's not like that at all..."

"That's easy for you to say, everybody likes you," He huffs. "You go shopping with your friends all the time, you're never home... and when you are, you're on the phone with them!"

"Its always the same friends I go with, Cater. I don't have a huge group of friends, I chose the few that could stick, the few that actually gave a damn about me. And... I'm a lot older than you, Cay, my friends can travel, I can travel, we can see each other a lot more."

"'s not fair..." He sniffles.

"I know, I felt the same way."

"Stop lying to me."

"I'm being one hundred percent honest! Promise! I never had any friends, I'd mope around all day, complaining to Dad about how bored I was, how I wish I could live like the girls in the movies..." She sighs. "But I found my people. The people who have seen me at my worst- pulling my hair and throwing stuff and getting so mad I couldn't think- and at my best, which is always, of course-" She flips her hair and Cater giggles. "And they also saw the weird me, the me that even I don't let myself see."

"That doesn't make any sense..."

"It will," The girl stands. "So, give it one more shot. If it turns out bad, well... I'll buy you something to eat, okay?"

"No bakeries," He mumbles.

"No bakeries, I know how you feel about sweet stuff, Cay," She chuckles, picking up his gear and helping him put it back on. She puts his helmet back on his head and gives it a few smacks, making Cater whine and hold onto his head, bumping the helmet out of his eyes. They approach the entrance to the skate park and Cater feels the familiar pang of anxiety sink in his gut as he looks up at his sister, who nudges him forward. "Go for it! I'll be in the park when you're done, 'kay?"

"W-wait, Vie-!" Cater winces at how desperate his voice sounds, but he continues. "Can you- can-" He stammers.

"I can stay," The girl smiles and he nods, dropping his board to the ground and placing his foot on it, taking a few breaths before kicking off. He rolls around for a little bit, doing the same tricks he'd been practicing all summer, going through the motions and trying to ignore the stares of the other kids around him. He bites his lip as he pulls off a particularly difficult trick, one that makes him stumble off his board as it shoots off in a completely different direction.

He swears under his breath and chases after it, tripping over his own feet. He shoots off a small spell that he'd been practicing and the board slows, flipping over and sliding a few inches before laying dormant. He pants and grabs it.

"That was so cool!" He hears someone exclaim from behind him. Cater gulps and whips around, looking at the small group of kids. The small canine beastman speaks up again. "You can use magic?!" He hesitantly nods. Another beastman, this one smaller with large bunny ears, chimes in.

"Do you use your magic to skate?"

"I-I never thought about it..."

"You should!"

"We saw you practicing earlier!" A human speaks up. "We were gonna ask if you wanted to join us."

The bunny beastman nods. "We've never seen you around here before! Are you new?" Cater nods. "Are you going to school here now? We go to..." The boys chat for a little while longer, and skate until the sun goes down and the streetlights are lit up. Some of the boys walk home, some of them skate, and the rest are picked up by their guardians. Cater hops over to the bench his older sister was seated on, flipping through the last pages of a thick book.

"Have fun?" She asks. Cater beams and nods. She laughs and stands, packing her things back into the worn tote bag she always carries around. "Cool, now lets go get something to eat. There this really good diner that I was looking at earlier..."

#twisted wonderland #twst #twisted wonderland headcannons #twst headcannons #cater diamons #twst cater #cater twst #heartslabyul #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland fanfic

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oh-three · 1 year

Note

Send me headcanons and tell me about your pet for the sleepover asks

Headcanons:

Cobb Vanth has never left Tatooine before.

Din Djarin is touch-starved.

Boba Fett is overly friendly with those he's closest to and randomly bear-hugs them if he's not seen them in a long time. (In the Mandoverse era)

Fives & Wrecker would be chaotic besties.

Young Tech forbiddingly studied a lot of things behind the instructors' backs. The Kaminoans gave up trying to train him out of it.

Omega actually was being trained as a medical assistant to Nala Se, and helped perform many different surgical operations.

Tech also has extensive medical knowledge, having had some extra medical training on top of everything else. (Still, he froze when one of their own was gravely injured for the first time.)

Tech often overextends himself to the point of passing out.

The Bad Batch would visit Cut's family when on leave.

Surface Pau’ans have a naming ritual for their young two-hundred and ten days after birth (six months, they just keep track by the day since full moons don’t work with there being nine of them)

Pau'an features darken with age, becoming more of the gray-white than the pristine white of youth. And their eyes, the irises gradually turn from gray to black.

My pets:

Brandy- the sole dog of the house. She's a cross between a Border Collie and a Black Lab, and almost nine and a half years old. We got her when she was a puppy, one of my mom's friends rescuing her from the home of someone who didn't know how to care for her. (We had another dog named Hardy, he was ten or eleven when he passed in 2020- there was a big change in Brandy's behavior after losing him, because he'd always been here with her)

Clyde- second oldest cat and the one we've had the longest. We got him and his sister from a foster home when they were kittens. She ended up having heart problems and having to be put down before reaching a year of age, and he's doing very well. He's overweight, always has been, but dieting only helps so much. He's twelve, now, and lost a tooth the other week.

Sassy- our oldest cat and the one we've had second longest. She was around three years old when we got her from the shelter, who had got her off of empty land off of the housing areas here. It's taken years to coach the aggressiveness out of her, and she still starts fights with Clyde despite going on thirteen herself.

GrayD- we got him from the same shelter we got Sassy at. Wouldn't stop meowing from the other side of the glass, and my youngest brother decided that's the one we were getting. He has a brother, and we saw him online again last year looking for a new home. Had the same name, coloring and shared GrayD's fur-length (they were kittens when we first saw them). I'm glad it's GrayD that we chose, though, because he has more personality than any other cat I've met. They're turning seven this year.

Rocket- got him from a different shelter, picked out again by my youngest brother. (My other brother picked Sassy out, and I'd picked out Sabrina, who'd passed after less than a year of having her in 2020). His original name was Jansky, and my dad hated it. He's named for his love for running around, and because he does kinda resemble Rocket the Racoon in his facial features. He's the only cat that we haven't declawed, so I still do get scratches by him a bit (he chose me as his favorite person). He's our quietest cat, doesn't meow much- and it's still quite high pitched despite him going on two this year. I carry him around on my shoulder, and he likes to rub his face on the corner of my glasses. My cat bestie.

Top image: Brandy

Bottom image, left to right: GrayD, Clyde (back), Rocket, Sassy

#thanks for the tag #star wars headcanons #personal

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paintedscales · 11 months

Text

013. Mankhad

The first migration that Nomin has seen during her time with the Sagahl leads her to the Bay of Yanxia. What was a fun outing with the other Sagahli children turns into something of a scare as a creature bursts from the waters and threatens hers and the other childrens' lives.

Word Count: 2,974

Steppe by Steppe Chapter List

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The time of migration had come and passed, and Nomin had the chance to go out of her way to meet some more of the Sagahli children. All the tribespeople were accounted for, and so the migration was cleared to go on ahead. Nomin had met five other children that were around her age, give or take -- three boys and two girls. There were a couple babes in the tribe as well, though Nomin only watched as they were swaddled and carried upon the backs of their parents.

For the most part, the other children had been nice to Nomin, one of them even thinking that her blue colouration of scales was cool because it meant that she was just like Bayarmaa. Of course, this made Nomin swell with a sense of pride -- for she also thought Bayarmaa sweet and amazing in her various ways of knowledge and how she carried herself more times than not.

Of the children, there was Jajiradai -- a boy of fourteen summers, and his height was telling. He towered over most of the other children, though he did not come close to standing at the same height, yet, as someone like Esenaij. He had a younger brother who had not entered into his growth spurt -- Odchigen, a boy who was as many summers as Nomin, and seemed to hold his brother in high regard.

Then there was Chotan, a girl of twelve summers. She liked flowers, and often wore those that she had preserved herself in her hair, or on her person. Apparently her parents had taught her how to preserve flowers that they may be worn, and even traded to those who were interested in Xaelic crafts when trading in Reunion.

Checheyigen -- who requested that others simply call her ‘Che’ -- happened to have been another girl of ten summers. She was often quiet, though liked collecting rocks in addition to whatever it was that her family had gone out to collect. Nomin had been impressed by the amount of rocks that she had within her collection -- more so by the crystals and precious stones that she had found.

Lastly, there was the youngest who was not still a babe; a boy by the name of Khulan. He had seen only seven summers. Like Nomin, he had been learning how to write and read, though his inquisitive nature seemed on par with hers. The two of them often seemed to ask Bayarmaa, Esenaij, or other Sagahli members about stuff they wanted to know more about, often getting shooed away to bother someone else.

In the migration, Nomin had gotten to know these children relatively well, and enjoyed her time with them -- happy enough to even call them friends with how she was able to speak and interact with them, as well as mutually share different tidbits of each other, and share other things like food. After all, the migration had actually been relatively lengthy. Several days had passed before the Sagahl had finally settled on a grassy plain that bordered a beach belonging to what many referred to as the Bay of Yanxia.

Only when Nomin was a little more aware of her surroundings did she stare at the land in confusion. She approached Bayarmaa and asked her, “why does the Sagahl set their iloh here? I cannot make out too many fruits or vegetables that we might harvest right away.”

“We are here for a different plant, that we might dry it and use it for teas and medicines. When it grows, it does so in poor soil ,” Bayarmaa started in response. “This plant we’re looking for is called ‘silvery wormwood’, it is named as such for the milky, almost silver-like sap it produces. We dry this for use in medicines and teas, which is prized and valued among our coastal allies -- the Mankhad and the Haragin.”

“The Sagahl have many allies…” Nomin observed, thinking about how often the Sagahl were able to trade and meet with other tribes without hostilities.

“It benefits the other tribes that we are allowed to roam the steppe free of conflict. This is not to say that we could not fight if it came down to it… though I imagine Esenaij has already demonstrated as such when you went to the Dotharl Khaa with him. Likewise, it also does not mean we are not without enemies,” Bayarmaa said, bringing a finger to her chin. “Back to the topic, many other tribes rely on us Sagahl, as we are and always have been the masters of the bounties that grow from this land. If it were not for us, many tribes would go without food or medicine. This is where our knowledge and teachings benefit us the most, and it benefits the other tribes to leave us be as a result.”

“Who are our enemies?”

Bayarmaa’s mouth soon set into a frown. Placing her hands on her hips, she sighed, not exactly wanting to recall previous conflicts, though it was good for the girl to know. Thinking for a moment on the tribes who fit the description of ‘enemy’, Bayarmaa eventually replied with, “the Adarkim, Chaghan, Jhungid, and the Kharlu come to mind. The Three Giants have often tried to catch us unawares so that they might absorb our tribespeople into their numbers to make use of our skills and knowledge. As for the Chaghan… well… they are the ones who were exiled by the Qerel as Taken -- those who succumb to their Will of Karash. This makes them incredibly violent all in Nhaama’s name. Blasphemous, if you ask me.”

Using her fingers, Nomin counted the four tribes and looked back up at Bayarmaa. Still holding her fingers in their counted form, she said, “at least it’s a small list.”

“There are still those who may yet change their stance in how they see us. May we only see that our alliances hold strong,” Bayarmaa spoke, walking to one side of the ger and pulling out some twine from a sack. “Now… let’s go ahead and start getting some of the herbs we collected on our way here set for drying.”

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A moon had passed and Nomin had learned from Bayarmaa how to write her characters with ease, and was able to read more than a few select words and sentence structures. She was quite proud of herself and her accomplishments in that endeavor. Now, Nomin’s questions were more on what certain words meant and how to apply them in writing, or even in spoken word.

Bushels of silvery wormwood had been collected by various members of the tribe, as well as other plants that grew in the area. ‘Day grain’ was what the Sagahl called the yellow, round grains that they collected and often boiled for meals in the time while they were there. It was interesting, but not so different from rice. At least it was something to go with the cooked up vilekin that the Sagahl also hunted -- being so close to the coastline gave them plenty of opportunities to hunt for buzzflies.

With many of the chores and work done, there had been little for the Sagahl to do other than wait. Seeds had been planted for the next year, herbs and goods had been collected and separated into bags for trade and to keep…. All that was left to do was wait for the opportunity to trade with a couple of other tribes that would find themselves somewhere close by. It could have been the Mankhad, or it could have been Haragin… only time would tell.

Nomin and the other children had gone to the beachside to have some fun while under the watchful eye of Jajiradai, who had taken his bow and arrows with him in case anything were to happen. Though his younger brother, Odchigen, stood mimicking his brother and watching over the beach at first, he eventually relented and went to play in the ocean waters with the rest of the kids.

A little later in the day, and Chotan had grown rather bored of the waters and sands, meandering close enough by, though having been taken with some of the local flora that started to bloom now that spring was upon them. Of course, curious Nomin had chased after her to see the flowers for herself. They were a beautiful purple with some yellow striping stemming out from their pistils outward.

“These are really pretty! Do you know what they are, Chotan?” Nomin asked, starting to reach out for the flower, but stopping remembering Bayarmaa’s words that she should not touch flowers unless she intended to harvest them.

“These… these are baras iris,” Chotan replied, her voice soft and airy, as if she had just woken up. Nomin had grown used to the slow way that Chotan spoke, and exhibited her patience with a smile. After all, Chotan had shown Nomin so many pretty flowers of the steppe, and had even given her a few of the preserved ones she had so that Nomin could practice drawing them.

“I think… I’ll be taking these ones,” Chotan said, plucking two of the irises from their spots. “Yes… these ones will be perfect… for hairpins.”

“Do you think it’d look good on me?” Nomin asked, wondering if she could get a flower hairpin.

Chotan turned her attention toward Nomin, and she looked her up and down. She thought about it, reaching out and touching Nomin’s hair, holding a lock of it between her fingers. Chotan gave a gentle ‘hmm’ before letting go of the sky blue tress.

“... Yellow…” Chotan spoke.

“Huh?” Nomin gave a quizzical look.

“... Your hair… yellow flowers would really stand out,” Chotan elaborated.

“You think so? I thought white or red might look goo--” Nomin was cut off by Che and Khulan’s panicked shouts and yells from the water.

Odchigen could be heard calling for his brother, hurriedly announcing that a flying shark had surfaced and was coming right for them. Though, it seemed Jajiradai needed no attention called to the shark that was gliding through the air across the water. He had already taken up his bow and loosed a couple arrows toward the creature, both arrows hitting their mark, but not slowing down the wavekin at all.

“Back onto the sands! Quickly! Run toward the iloh!” Jajiradai urged, watching the kids run back. Nomin and Chotan could only comply, clumsily getting back up onto their feet as they ran over the sands.

Chotan only ran so far before she had tripped over her own feet; she had been trying to keep the baras irises safe as she fled, though to no avail. Nomin lingered back after her friend fell, running to her and helping her to her feet. She reached out for one of the irises that had fallen onto the sand that still looked alright, though the sound of Jajiradai yelling at them stopped her.

“Keep running to the iloh!”

The shout seemed too late. Even as Jajiradai loosed another arrow into the flying shark, it was fast approaching the two girls. Nomin had done her best to shield Chotan with her own body as the other girl quickly tried reorienting herself. Unbeknownst to the former Tumet, Chotan had dropped the flowers completely, ready to flee without distraction.

Just as the shark opened its maw to attack, it stiffened, falling from its hovering state and crashing into the sand. It rolled around a bit due to its momentum, stiff but still operating its gills. Jajiradai took this opportunity to run to the girls and scoop them up into his arms to bring them back to safety. However, his own curiosity set in when he put the girls down; walking back toward the wavekin, he sighed, noting his arrows being broken and unsalvageable. Though Jajiradai also noted something else of interest: a white, sharpened bone sticking out of the shark’s flesh.

Reaching out to it, a sharp whistle caught his and everyone else’s attention, halting Jajiradai in the process. Looking toward the sound, they saw a young man, perhaps only a little older than Jajiradai, waving to them from a top one of the sand dunes of the beach. Once he had their attention, he started jogging toward them.

“Don’t touch that dart!” the boy called out before anything else. “It is laced with potent dagina fish poison. If you touch it, you may become paralyzed.”

Jajiradai lowered his hand from attempting to observe the bone dart further and put his bow away on his person. He stayed silent for the time being, perhaps a little upset that someone else had stolen the honor of protecting the Sagahli children from him. However, he spoke no ill, and simply bowed courteously to the new boy.

“None of you are hurt, are you?” the boy asked, concern apparent on his face. “My tribespeople traveled this way for migration. I was visiting the beach to see if I might find some shells for my mother to craft with.”

Nomin was busy making sure Chotan was okay, helping her brush off sand from her clothes and body. It seemed both of them were a little sad that the baras irises had been ruined in the sudden scare of the flying shark surfacing and coming to attack. However, with the shark pacified, Chotan sighed and walked to the area where the rest of the irises were, looking over them to see if she could find two new flowers that were good for her crafts.

Leaving her to it, Nomin had approached Jajiradai and the other boy, curious as to who this new boy was. It seemed the other two children had also returned -- or perhaps did not run terribly far to where they could see and hear that the situation had been handled. Though Che had been wary of the shark that was still there, Odchigen happily approached, praising his elder brother and his abilities.

“Jajiradai! I knew you could take down that shark!” Odchigen cheered.

“Oh… it was… it was this new boy…” Nomin said, pointing at him. “He defeated the shark.”

“... It was, “Jajiradai affirmed, watching Odchigen glance between everyone as he gawked in disbelief.

“Hey, what’s your name?” Nomin finally asked the boy, as it seemed no one else was asking what felt like an obvious question to ask in general.

“Baihingor, and I come from the Mankhad tribe,” the boy introduced. He then pointed to the shark and then held out a bone blowgun. “In my search for shells, I often come here to practice hitting cloudkin or wavekin that come too close. It is a form of hunting for us as well so that we might have food.”

“But how do you eat them if you poison them?” Checheyigen asked, her soft voice startling Nomin and Odchigen momentarily.

Baihingor chuckled softly and replied, “that is a very good concern…. My people often take the creatures back while they are paralyzed and allow them to get better. The shark is still alive, see? But the poison will wear off in several bells. When it does, we keep and care for the creature for a fortnight to help ensure the poison has run its course before we slaughter them for food.”

Walking toward the downed shark, Baihingor took some gloves from his person and slipped them on before grasping the dart and pulling it from the shark. Turning it around between his fingers, he then put it away in a specially decorated pouch before removing his gloves with a smile. He patted the wavekin rather gently before looking at the others around him.

“Come, we can remove the arrows and return the creature to sea. Like this, it will not benefit anyone save for its skin and bones… but to make no use of its meat because the dagina poison has not run its course is a waste,” Baihingor said, leaning down and pulling out one of the arrows that had broken though was still lodged into the beast.

Jajiradai told the other children to stand back while he and Baihingor took care of removing the rest of the arrows. Once removed, the two worked together to start bringing the shark back to the water. It was a task that proved a little difficult, though eventually both of the older boys had been able to at least get the flying shark back to deep enough water that they could make sure they could leave it without worrying about it dying on the beach and attracting other unwanted attention.

“So…” Baihingor started when everyone started back inland. “I suppose I wouldn’t be far from the truth if I were to assume you were all from the Sagahl tribe? My people are expecting to cross paths with you soon if that’s the case.”

“Yeah!” Odchigen eagerly replied. “We got a lot of our harvests in, and they’re ready to trade to your people!”

“That’s a relief to hear,” Baihingor sighed, bringing a hand to his chest in relief. “My sister relies on the medicine and tea that our people get from your tribe.”

Nomin looked at Baihingor in surprise. It was just as Bayarmaa told her; this boy who had saved them from the flying shark needed the medicine the Sagahl made or at least collected components for so that they might live as healthily as possible as well.

“Well…” Baihingor stopped walking with the group of Sagahl and smiled at them. When the others stopped and looked at him, he continued speaking, “I’ll be heading back to the beach to look for more shells. My people will be happy to know that you are not that far away. May we meet again soon, and travel in safety back to your people! I won’t always be around to save your scales from other flying sharks!”

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worldismyne · 2 years

Text

Trivial Untruth: Ouma's Part

Summary: No matter how hard he tried, he always ended up playing the part of the fool. Just how many people did he drag in with him trying to escape his cage?

Kokichi-centric

Pregame AU: No one wants to audition for the Killing Game, you get scouted.

Rating: M

Ao3 Link

Chapter 1: Trapped is a Position not Fate

Being an orphan wasn't a unique experience growing up in Towa City. The children's uprising had left a permanent scar on the city, with adults for generations looking down on children with fear and contempt. It was more common to be gifted emancipation papers than get adopted, and the system struggled to keep track of everyone. However, the adults in Ouma's life never let on how stressful the day to day operations was, and instead tried to build a sense of family among him and his peers. They were the future generation, they owed it to each other the care for one another in the absence of a structured government. Those who did manage to get adopted would move to Tokyo and leave the city for good.

He enjoyed living there with all the other kids, they made for an endless supply of playmates and entertainment. For the first seven years of his life he hadn't given a second thought to who his parents were. After all, no one around him had parents. Then one day, a woman came with looking for her baby niece, wielding papers he couldn't read. Ms. Tamaki looked them over and the next thing the kids new that three year-old terror was reunited with her extended family. No interviews or discussions on whether she was the 'right fit' for that woman's family. She was just whisked away without a second thought. It had him wondering.

Is there someone like that for me?

Maybe he had grandparents that were too old to care for him, or a father who just didn't know he existed. There could be countless reasons why he was here, reasons more special than his parents had simply passed away. For weeks he'd make up a new story for what his real family was like, entertaining the kids at the orphanage with what his hypothetical cousins did for a living. Until one day, he was able to slip into Ms. Tamaki's office to grab ahold of his folder and smuggle it into the boy's washroom in the middle of the night.

Sitting on the tile floor, he opened the manilla folder and flipped through pages of notes from his life at the orphanage to the backmost pages. The first thing he noticed was the blank birth certificate with two inked baby-foot prints. The line, where the baby's name would go, was also empty. Attached with a paperclip was a note from the hospital.

"Pt's mother refused to sign birth certificate, told post-partum nurse "I didn't have a baby", and left AMA. No father or support person to contact. The nurses have been calling him Kokichi Ouma."

He didn't understand half of what the note said, but he got the general idea. His mom wasn't dead, she was alive. She told the hospital the most blatant lie she could have and they couldn't make her take care of him. He got what he wanted, a story about his family that no kid could match, but it left him feeling hollow. After that, his speculative stories he'd share with kids would always be about his dad's side of the family.

The cafeteria had a special wall full of photos and letters from children who found new families over seas. During the holiday season, it wasn't unheard of for graduates to return to celebrate the holidays with their old 'brothers' and 'sisters', even those who weren't children anymore. It was always his favorite time of year. Especially the winter of 2058, because that was the year it seemed like anything could happen.

See, in Towa, once you turned ten it was almost impossible to get adopted. Between the age of the child soldiers during the uprising and over seas couples preferring 'little' kids, it seemed you had to be really special to get a follow-up interview from a couple. However that year, Big-Sis Maki who took care of everyone was supposed to have her third interview with the same family in two weeks, and she was twelve. Granted, everyone at the orphanage was heartbroken to see her go, but the couple wanted someone who'd be a good big sister to their new baby. And who could ask for a better big sister than Maki?

She was so nervous the day before her final interview, pacing back and forth down the halls. The other kids had sent Ouma to distract her while they worked on her goodbye present, a job he was practically made for. As he watched her twirl her hair into knots around her fingers he pulled on her sweater sleeve.

"Why are you scared?" He tried to hide his own chewed on nails. She'd get mad if she knew he was picking at them again.

"I'm not scared." She was wearing her nicest dress and the hair ribbons she got last Christmas. "It's just going to be really different being off the island. They're going to want me to watch their baby for them, and if I do a bad job-"

"Then don't do a bad job." Ouma really didn't understand why she was making up sad stories in her head. "Before you go, can you fix Renho?" He held up his panda puppet, the bottom was only just starting to fray, but she was one of the only people he knew that could sew. "There's a hole in his armpit right there." She stopped pacing a looked at the doll with a frown.

"I told you, Renho's a girl's name." It didn't matter to him if the doll came with a girl's name written on the tag, he wanted to have a boy panda toy. She sat down on the floor against the wall. "Did you bring a needle and thread this time?" He slapped down a pin cushion onto the floor with dramatic flare. It only took a few minutes to whip stitch the hole, but she went ahead and reinforced the whole arm. They called her name from the interview room and she handed him back his puppet with shaking hands. As soon as she disappeared behind the manilla door he ran to the join the other kids.

They all crowded together, some fighting over who got to hold up her present for her to see. A plain cotton apron decorated with the hand prints of all the kids at the orphanage. One brave soul even managed to get handprints from the babies, though they didn't look as clean as his did. When she left the room, she saw all of them holding up her surprise and shouting their congratulations in a chaotic chorus.

She started to cry, her lips pursed together like she was holding everything in. She gave two small shakes of her head 'no' before running away down the hall. Inside the room, the two chairs for parents to sit in was empty, with the director of the orphanage looking at them with a sad smile. These things happen they said, we'll just try again next time.

Maki refused to take anymore interviews after that.

-0-

The first time Ouma lied to an adult was a few months after Christmas when he was ten. He was horsing around in the biggest tree in the garden, trying to show how high he could climb so Maki would smile again. Those days Maki was always tired and sad, but work around the orphanage didn't stop just because you had a bad day. So he poked his head out of the tops of the branches and called out to her while she was weeding the garden. The adults looked on with passing interest, but their reaction wasn't as funny as Maki dropping all her gardening tools and running towards the tree at top speed.

"Get down from there right now!" She cried, looking over her shoulder at the guys in suits who were talking to Ms. Tamaki about boring adult stuff. He went to step down and felt his foot slip down the bark. It was a little scary falling through the first few branches, but he was able to grab one of the bigger ones and catch himself half way down. He swung himself a bit and landed on his feet right in front of Maki with a big smile on his face and leaves in his hair. Maki claimed she wasn't afraid of anything, so spooking her like this was a big accomplishment. At least that's what he thought before she pinched one of his arm and twisted.

"OWWWW!" He felt tears pricking as she kept twisting. "That hurts!"

"That's because you fell." She looked around them and grabbed a muddy part of a branch that broke off during winter. "Let me see." She went to scrap his knee with the branch.

"Quit it!" He stumbled back and fell on his butt.

"Normal kids hurt themselves when they fall out of trees." She grabbed his ankle before he could squirm away.

"I didn't fall!" She shushed him with a dangerous glint in her eye.

"Do you want to die?"

"N-no." He sniffled, glaring at her through the tears.

"Then you fell. Now hold still." The bark ate up his skin, streaking blood and mud down his shin. The air smelled of iron and dirt. "Not deep enough." She slipped a small ornate knife out of her pocket as the adults started to make their way over. "I'm sorry." She whispered and kept the blade hidden in her palm. It pierced below the joint and she dragged it down in an uneven pattern across his skin. He screamed. She raised her voice for the adults to hear. "I said hold still, let me see." He pulled his leg away glaring at her as she concealed the dagger once more.

"What happened?" Ms. Tamaki asked, some of the other children peering around her to see. Ouma sniffled, feeling Maki's unblinking stare as he looked at the expectant adults.

"Maki just-" She glared at him, "didn't catch me. I... fell." Ms. Tamaki looked over his injury with a frown.

"Oh, it's just a scrap. Maki take him into the bathroom to clean up." Maki helped him limp toward the building as she turned to the men in suits. "He's one of our development candidates. It's still too soon to say, but we may have another H.T.K. in our future."

-0-

Now that Ouma was familiar with the scent, he realized how often Maki smelled like blood during breakfast, especially on days she was tired. She became more guarded and mean, picking on certain kids and hovering around the manilla door during their interviews. The kids she bossed around the most were the ones having troubles getting adopted. She'd feed them answers to potential questions, claiming it would help him get adopted. She told him to say he was two years younger than he was and that his favorite thing to do was draw even if he wasn't good at it. He'd blame her for spoiling his interview and she'd smile ever so faintly.

He saw her less and less as the year went by and he became busier. After school he'd be pushed to try gymnastics or play an instrument, surely there would be something he'd take to that would make him standout amongst the other kids. The more lessons he was put into the more he could feel her glaring at his back wishing he would fail. It didn't sink in that something was wrong until he noticed a pattern in the people he was talking to during his interviews. Each couple wore gloves over their hands, some more casual looking than others. One pair, only one of the people had a wedding band on, while their partner didn't.

"What do you want to be when you grow up?" It was one of the questions Maki warned kids about the most; it didn't matter what you said as long as it was boring. He was getting pretty sick of Maki bossing him around and being mean, so he answered with the truth.

"I don't know." There were a lot of things he liked, but he couldn't see any of them as his clear-cut future. Why should he have to decide now?

"Now, don't be shy, if you could be anything in the world, what would it be?" He resisted the urge to chew on his cuticles. Both these people were looking at him eagerly, even though this kinda question was supposed to be an icebreaker.

"...Fanta Purple?" He thought of answering with 'cat' or 'tree', but those seemed too philosophical. He just wanted to make them laugh so they'd change the subject. They weren't being mean to him, but they definitely weren't laughing.

"You're eleven now, you can't tell me you've never thought about what you want to do in the future." The lady was smiling at him, but he felt his heart race. He told them he was nine, even the kids didn't realize he'd had two ninth birthday parties. Who were these people talking to that they knew something the average staff member there didn't. And why wouldn't they just let the question go? He clearly didn't want to talk about it. Something was wrong. All the tips Maki tried to cram down his throat he was blanking on. They were still looking at him, he had to say something.

"I'm going to be homeless, professionally." This took them aback and he started counting the cracks in his cuticles. He couldn't look at them directly and think at the same time, he just needed to keep throwing them curveballs until their time ran out. "Then I don't have to worry about getting adopted anymore. The pigeons that roost in Towa Tower will be my new parents. Ah, but Towa Tower's half under water, maybe I can pan handle my way into become a Mermer." They tried to speak, but he kept going. "That's a mermaid that has a fish tail at both ends, they're so rare a single scale could pay off a house. Oh, but if I have a house, I wouldn't be homeless anymore. I'll just have to donate it all to charity then."

"Son, are you taking this seriously?"

"Of course I am," he could tell they were getting mad, "I'm just being realistic. Personality disorders run in my family and schizophrenia, mostly skitzos. No one so far has wanted to dump their whole life into a kid that might end up crazy anyway. It's why I don't get a lot of interviews." He already got slapped with ADHD at age five, as far as most adults concerned, he was a 'poor fit'. A potential nuisance no matter how hard he tried to convince them otherwise. "But you already knew that, didn't you? It's in my file." He was started to think he showed his hand too soon. At the mention that he might develop schizophrenia the couple smiled, and Ouma truly felt scared.

"Very insightful," the woman beamed, "a little too aggressive for a detective role, but I see a lot of potential. Don't you?" She looked at the man next to her who nodded in agreement.

"I can tell, you're going to go very far." He wasn't lying, but that glint in his eye unnerved Ouma, a lot. "We'll be back next week to sign the paperwork to make things official, but I think the two of us agree you'd be a perfect fit." A perfect fit for what? They left the room, shaking hands with the director giddily. She turned to him giving two big thumbs up before leading the couple away. He never thought to ask Maki what that second interview felt like, the one where she thought she was getting adopted. If it felt like this, no wonder she was so nervous that something was going to go wrong.

-0-

That night he packed up everything he owned in his school backpack and made a beeline for the chain link fence. He got halfway up and hesitated at the barbed wire that wrapped around the top. He must have stayed there too long, because a minute later he could see Maki running across the field toward him. She was in her 'work' clothes, black head to toe save for a red cloak. The wind howled, pulling the cloak and her hair in sporadic directions.

"What do you think you're doing!?" He was too high for her to grab, and she was carrying something bulky over her shoulder.

"I think I'm getting out of here before I turn into you." The wind pulled him and the chain link towards the woods, swaying ever so slightly. "Ever since you gave up on being adopted, you've been cruel and, and..." Oh why couldn't he think of the right word? "Evil." She recoiled, obviously hurt by his words.

"I didn't give up on being adopted." Maki clutched the strap over her shoulder. "I can't be. I'm too old."

"Stop lying to me!" He clung tightly to the metal glaring down at her. "I see you reaching for your hair. I'm not stupid. You just won't tell me what's really going on." He was sick and tired of everyone around him acting like he was too stupid to notice how Maki flinched every time she was praised for a job well done. A pale ghost of the girl who read to everyone late at night. And right now, with him one fence away from freedom, she looked petrified.

"Do you want to die?"

"No!" He groaned. "Obviously no." Why did she always hide behind that excuse? What kind of crazy person says yes to that?

"Then I can't tell you." She dropped the black case she was carrying into the grass. Her stride was slow as she approached the fence, like she was trying not to spook a cat. She bit her lip and resorted to an old tactic she used when he'd demand 'why' over and over again as small child. "What do you think is going on?"

"I think..." He hesitated as he looked down at her, able to see a whisper of the girl who'd try her best to keep him out of trouble. "I think Ms. Tamaki isn't going to let you get adopted." Sure Maki had refused future interviews, but she rarely did things for no reason. She wasn't one to waste her time. "I think it's the reason you get to leave the building at night, and why you come home smelling like blood and sidewalk." She didn't object, her face pinched into a small frown. "And... I don't think I'm getting adopted either." Her fingers curled around the chain-link, no longer poised to catch him.

"You know how silly that sounds. You're just scared," she sighed, "I was too. But that doesn't mean-"

"What does H.T.K mean?" She froze. "It scared you enough to hurt me; what does it mean?" She looked down at the grass, her hood now covering her face. His breath caught in his throat as she said, just above a whisper.

"Hard to kill."

"Maki, if the whole reason you've been scaring kids is to protect them, you have to let me go." Even if she couldn't tell him exactly what was going on, the least she could do is help him run away. She let go of the fence and looked up at him with a blank look on her face.

"Why don't we play a game instead?"

"What are you-"

"I'm going to turn around and count to 100 and when I turn back," she picked up the black canvas bag, "I will have to find you." He nodded and she turned, closing her eyes as she started counting out loud. Biting through the pain, he heaved himself over the barbed wire and onto the forest floor below. He ran as fast as he could, through the trees and toward the hazy city scape miles away from his home.

She found him within an hour and carried him back to the orphanage on her back.

-0-

He had tried multiple times to escape, but every time they sent one of the older kids after him and he was dragged back by force. The day of his third interview had come and just like with Maki, there was no couple on the other side of the door, just Ms. Tamaki. She had a bunch of paperwork on the table as well as a bowl of candies and tissues. Ouma just glared at her from the doorway.

"They aren't coming, so can I just go now?" How had he not noticed this door locked from the outside before? There were no windows here, just motivational posters and a woman looking at him with pride. He wouldn't be able to leave the room until she let him out.

"It's a little more complicated than that." She gestured for him to sit. He lingered in the doorway. "You're not in trouble, it's okay." She smiled sweetly. "You were chosen by one of our more wealthy sponsors to enter the Talent Development Program. They've agreed to pay for everything!" He peeled away from the doorway and took a seat as she pulled out a few file folders. "They had a few recommendations of course, now let's see... Prosecution lawyer, spy, or conman they thought would suit you; any of these tracks could be useful. Of course, you're more than welcome to pick something else, the sky's the limit. Though, in my opinion, I think you'd get more support if you go the Secret Agent route. New talents always garner more interest."

"They were interviewing me to pay for school?" He picked up the agent folder, inside were prospective classes and mentors. Even a list of agencies he could intern with if he so chose. "I don't understand...."

"They can only sponsor one student at a time." She took a candy out of the bowl. "This won't cover in the field support or your existing debt; you'll need to gain additional sponsors if you don't want to pay for that yourself." He slapped the folder closed.

"What debt?"

"Sweet pea, where do you think the money that takes care of everybody comes from?" She pulled out crisp blue binder and opened it to a middle page. "Every year, the cost of living is split up amongst you and your peers." The longer they stayed, the more they owed. "We cover it with cards and such in the interim, but you have to pay it back. Talent development is just the easiest way to erase your debt, and you'll have everything set up for when you graduate the program!" She seemed so ecstatic, but all he could do was focus on the childish diagram showing how this place paid their bills using his name. "I'll give you some time to think about it."

She opened the manilla door and he saw the crowd of kids excitedly waiting to see him walk out with his new family. Their little faces fell when they saw there was no one in the room and in the center was Maki holding a clumsily wrapped gift.

"Sorry guys," he laughed, "looks like you're stuck with me." One of the younger kids stumbled up and hugged his knee, and Maki shoved the box into his hands.

"Open it later." She glanced briefly over his shoulder at Ms Tamaki and then back at him. "You don't want the little ones to get jealous." He nodded and shoved the small box deep in his pocket.

-0-

Training starts at two AM. It's running laps around a military grade obstacle course in freezing weather. Maki finishes in less than thirty minutes and leaves without a word to him, he's stuck out there for two hours, repeating the whole course until he 'gets it right'. Five AM he gets dragged back inside to keep up appearances during breakfast, but he's not allowed to eat until he finishes his daily training. Apparently, that means he's stuck in the kitchen chopping vegetables and cleaning an ever-growing pile of dishes. Then it's lessons, he refused to pick a talent, so their solution was to have him take courses for the investor's top three choices.

He was exhausted and hungry; only able to complete the morning's training at four, just in time to scrounge for leftovers. The whole time Maki ignores him and helps care for the younger kids at the orphanage like nothing changed. She makes it seem so effortless. Or maybe she'd just become ambilivelant to the whole situation, he couldn't tell.

After dinner, he's instructed to follow Maki to the cinderblock garage at the back of the complex. All she does is stare straight ahead as the double doors open to reveal an arsenal of decade old weapons, and a wall of cloaks similar to the one Maki wore when he tried running away. The older kids they came with wordlessly picked their weapons of choice and exited out the other side of the hanger.

"Pick something." Maki wrapped a clock around herself and grabbed a crossbow marked with a red ribbon. "The more you use it, the better you'll get at hunting."

"Hunting what?"

"...you'll see."

The armory didn't have many short-ranged weapons, with most kids gravitating towards guns or bows. His depth perception wasn't the best, and he wasn't sure he'd be able to take to aiming too well. Instead he picked up a polearm; part spear, part hammer, it was light enough for him to hold even while his body begged for rest.

"Come on already." Maki walked out the back of the garage and Ouma followed close behind.

Their designated 'hunting grounds' as Maki called it was in the heart of Towa City. Streets were buried in rubble and ankle-deep water from the rising shore-line. Their peers splintered off throughout the city, told that pick-up time would be in a few hours. Maki unpacked her crossbow and assembled it within a few minutes. She stood and aimed it towards the horizon. A distorted, mechanical groan echoed throughout the square.

"You want to aim for the eyes." She pulled the trigger and the arrow shattered the dimly glowing red glass of a mechanical bear. It tilted forwards, it's rusted claws frozen mid strike as it smashed into the ground. She walked over to it, kicking it's head off and retrieving a golden coin from inside its head. "Ten will earn you dinner. Don't get caught by anyone out of uniform. Don't die." She climbed up the roof of a nearby building. "See you in two hours."

And with that he was alone.

The city felt like a tomb, with flickering streetlights casting ribbons of light across the flooded pavement. The barrier that once protected the city from pollution now mocked its inhabitants with panels of dead, empty sky interrupting the image of a fake sunset. He could hear the chittering of a dying radio, the clicking of a rusted rollercoaster, and the low groan of a machine lowering something to the ground.

He turned, the polearm tremoring in his grasp and he saw a four-legged animatronic with broken glass for teeth. Half of its body was covered in matted white fur, stained a red-brown around the joints where rust started to overtake the machine. The other half a black leather, the undulated with each step it took. It's fake eye sagged and pointed towards the ground, but the red glass plate shone bright. The inside of its mouth was painted in old blood and from somewhere in it's chest a damaged speaker choked out garbled distortion in a pattern.

The guttural yawn of a bass note, two cellphone-esque trills, and a something clicking in it's stomach.

It tilted it's head to the side and repeated the series of noises. Ouma clenched his weapon as it let out a warbled howl and charged towards him. He clumsily pointed the polearm at it and speared in through it's gapping maw. However, the machine kept moving, chomping down on the pole and tearing up his knuckles with it's teeth. He tried to pull it back, but it was trapped in the hole it had created. Using his whole weight on the handle of the weapon, he lifted the front of the machine six inches off the ground and tipped it onto it's side. It's head thrashed around blindly, biting at anything that came close. The machine flailed its legs helplessly, unable to contort it's joints in the way needed to stand up again. Ouma kicked in the red glass plate with his heel and wrenched his weapon from it's dying mouth.

He pried off it's head and pulled out a copper coin.

One down, nine more to go.

Yawn, trill, trill, click.

He turned and saw two more of the beast like animatronics come around the corner. His hands were still bleeding, and his knees felt weak, he couldn't take two at once. The two robot turned toward him and tilted their heads.

Yawn, trill, trill, click, boom. Yawn, trill, trill, click, boom.

He ran.

-0-

The deadline was approaching, he had scraped together seven copper coins, but he was too exhausted to take another step. Instead, he sat in the dirty water, his back leaning against cold concrete. He watched from the shadows as a decaying monokuma mindlessly wandered back and forth in the street. It had been doing that for half an hour, oblivious of the human it should be looking for.

Children were responsible for these things investing the streets, so children were sent to dismantle them, even he and his peers hadn't been alive during the start of the riots. It was utterly ridiculous. He didn't have the energy to be outraged like he knew he should be. His stomach churned and his shoulder arched as he stared at his collection of coins, realizing he wasn't going to have enough to get by. They weren't even the right color.

Were they actually worthless?

Click, click, click.

He braced himself against the wall and held his breath. Ten gold coins fell into his lap and he looked up surprised as Maki kept her eye on the Monokuma pacing not too far away.

"If you miss too many meals, you'll fall behind." She aimed the crossbow carefully and fired at the animatronic, only lowering it once the bear toppled over. "You can't keep showing up to practice this useless."

"Practice!?" He pulled himself to his feet as she collected another coin. "Who calls hunting these things 'practice'. Practice for what???"

"Practice for killing." She looked back at him with that same detached glare. "People who can't collect enough coins don't do well in the Killing Game; they get killed or they get sloppy. You only have a few years to prepare, so quite wasting it."

"The Killing Game?" Ouma felt his hands grow cold. "As in 'The Most Dangerous Game'; the one inspired by Hope's Peak Academy? The internet joke people use to end arguments in chat rooms? That Killing Game."

"Yeah, not so funny now, is it?" She packed up her crossbow and started walking towards the drop-off area. "Are you just going to stand there all night?"

He gripped the side of the brick wall, freezing in his half-soaked clothes. Pay off your debt, they said, you'll be set for life. An easy promise to make if you're life isn't going to be that long. These rich people coming in, 'sponsoring' students for a game they probably watch, where their 'student' has a high likelihood of dying. There had to be something else to it; money maybe. Betting? That would make sense, he felt like they were trying to break him on purpose, to get him to a point where he would be in constant fight or flight.

Maki made her choice evident, clinging to a weapon with a steely gaze and a wealth of patience, expecting him to come along.

"I'm not doing this." He let the gold coins hit the ground.

"You don't have a choice." Maki sighed at her rejected gift. "Whether you do well in training or not, everyone goes to the same place. I'm trying to help you survive it."

"I'm not 'training' or 'practicing' or whatever insane thing they call learning to hurt people. I don't want anything to do with this and you- You brought me back here when I tried to run away for this!? How could you!"

"If you left, someone would take your place, then they'd find you anyway and both of you would get put it. It's our job to protect the others."

"You're helping them hurt people!" It was just a scam to convince them to play along, why couldn't Maki see that? "I won't play along with those assholes. I don't care what they say or what they do."

"Do you want to die?"

"I refuse to be apart of this Maki."

"Then you'll die."

She walked back to the drop-off point without him, almost sad for a moment, before hiding behind her emotionless mask. He had been willing to take his chances with the mechanical monsters that wanted him dead. At least the robots didn't try to disguise their intentions. Yet, as always, he was dragged back to the orphanage by force. Body weak and voice hoarse; he fell back against the cold floor and felt something crunch in his pocket.

His goodbye present.

He pulled the dented box out of his pocket and glared at it; questioning whether to throw it at the wall in frustration or let fall into the garbage. The paper had been carefully decorated and signed by the other kids there; all hoping to send him off one final time. With a long sigh, he carefully unwrapped it opened the tiny box to find... A necklace? He pulled out the chain and saw a sliver dog-tag dangling form the end. One side was serrated, and center had three odd shaped stripes of metal that could bend out.

A lock pick.

He didn't know when, and he wasn't sure how; but he knew he was going to find a way out of this place.

AN: The irony that Ouma's the most reliable narrator out of everyone in Trivial Untruth is not lost on me, trust. I originally was going to break each chapter into specific periods of his life, but then I ran into writer's block, BAD.

But yeah, unlike the previous parts, this will be exploring a lot of the 'world' the AU is built around and how Ouma became the paranoid mess he was by the time he met Kibo. In order to do that, I wanted to firmly establish what Towa City was like before Ouma makes his grand escape.

Also couldn't help but give a nod to DRS, but make it sinister.

#fanfic #danganronpa v3 #danganronpa #kokichi ouma #kokichi oma #ouma kokichi #drv3 #drv3 killing harmony

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angel5ofp0rn · 16 days

Text

♡ part ten ♡

ExHusband!Price x f!reader

@rosiesghost we were totally on the same page with John and Nadia 🤭

“So, why did the two of you split up? John found someone younger?”

You nearly choke on your water, caught off guard by Nadia’s bluntness.

“Just teasing.” Nadia chuckles softly, taking another sip of her wine. “Younger than you? He’d ‘ave to rob a cradle.”

From the patio, the two of you watched John and the three children kick a football around in the backyard.

Your youngest struggled to keep up due to her age and size. John was quick to help by lifting her from under her armpits, helping her get a good kick in.

“Actually, it was you," you confess, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. Nadia looks at you curiously.

"He wouldn't tell me where he was going when he would come here to visit you and Theo. I thought he was cheating."

Nadia almost frowns a bit, looking back to John and the kids. “And now that you know the truth?”

You sigh softly. “I don’t know… I still can’t move past you. I can’t stop thinking about John cheating on you, and abandoning you and Theo.”

“I told him to leave.”

“You… what?”

Nadia sets her wine glass down on the table between the two of you. “John and I… We weren’t in love, you see.” She starts carefully. “We just had a drunken one night stand, and I fell pregnant with Theo… John proposed just to do the right thing, but it wasn’t what either one of us wanted.”

You sit quietly, absorbing her words. The revelation leaves you stunned. You had no idea...

"We were unhappy for a long time," Nadia continues, her gaze distant as if reliving those moments. "We talked about seeing other people for a while, but John said he couldn't bring himself to do it. Even though there were no feelings between us, he couldn't date around while married. And then he met you."

Nadia smiles to herself as she explains the situation to you. You glance over at John, memories of your first meeting flooding back. John kept insisting that he wasn’t right for you, that you should just forget about him.

Now it makes sense.

Unaware of your eyes on him, John uses the bottom of his shirt to wipe the sweat from his face. You get a glimpse of his toned, hairy abdomen and that hint of a v-line that still lingers despite him getting softer with age.

“Can’t deny that he’s sexy, though.” Nadia murmurs, a low whistle escaping her lips.

You chuckle and nod in agreement.

The conversation lulls for a moment, both of you lost in your thoughts. The children’s laughter echoes from the yard, and you see Theo twirl your youngest around, her giggles filling the air.

"Do you ever regret it?" you ask quietly. "Leaving him, I mean."

Nadia pauses, considering your question.

"Sometimes. Not because there’s any feelings,” She explains briefly. “He was a good husband, though, and he’s a good father... But I know it was the right thing to do. We deserved to be happy, and so did Theo. And you deserve that, too."

You take a deep breath, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. “You’re right.”

“I have a couple pregnancy tests under the sink in my bathroom.” Nadia mentions casually.

“I’m sorry?” You look at her incredulously.

Nadia gestures to your glass of water, with her wine glass.

•••

The drive back to the rental for your last night before heading back to the states is quiet. The soft hum of the engine and the rhythmic sound of the tires on the road are the only sounds filling the car.

The children, exhausted from their last day with their big brother, are fast asleep in the back seat. Their heads bob slightly with each turn, tiny bodies relaxed in the safety of the car.

You glance over at John, his profile illuminated by the passing streetlights. He looks deep in thought, one hand on the steering wheel and the other resting casually on his knee.

After a few moments of comfortable silence, you gather your courage. "Nadia told me about your marriage to her... how it really was."

John's grip on the steering wheel tightens slightly, but he keeps his gaze on the road. "Yeah? What’d she say?

“She told me about how the two of you weren’t really together… just married for Theo’s sake.”

John nods, still watching the road.

“I wish you would have just told me.” You sigh. “I wish you would have trusted me with the truth. Trusted that I wouldn’t have judged you for that.”

“It wasn’t about trust,” John explains. “I just… I wanted our relationship to be about us, our future, not my past.”

You stare at John, frustration starting to resurface. "There is no future without a past, John. You can't just compartmentalize parts of your life and expect it not to affect everything else."

John glances at you, his expression conflicted as he rubs a hand over his mouth and beard. "I know. I fucked up, alright? I was scared. Scared that you'd see me differently, that you'd think less of me."

"John, I already see you differently because of the lies," you say softly, your voice trembling.

The silence in the car is heavy, the air thick with unspoken emotions. You can feel the distance between you widening, even as you sit mere inches apart.

John finally breaks the silence, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry. I really am. I never meant to hurt you.”

You close your eyes, trying to steady your breathing. "I know you didn't. But it doesn't change the fact that you did."

John pulls into the driveway and parks the car. He turns to you, his blue eyes filled with regret. "I haven’t cheated. I haven’t abandoned my family. Yes, I hid things from you but I came clean.” John takes a deep breath. “How do we fix this?“

“I can’t talk about this right now.” You shake your head, turning to open the passenger door.

John stops you, his hand grabbing yours.

“We made a promise to each other to talk everything out, not fight.” John’s voice was stern as he locked eyes with you. “If you’re going to just walk away again… I’m going to take that as you wanting to end things for good.”

You turn to look at the children, still peacefully asleep in the back seat. The sight of them, so innocent and unaware of the turmoil around them.

"I want to fix this," you say quietly, turning back to John. “I want us to be together again, but-“

“Then we’ll be together again.” John insists.

“It’s not that simple…” You nearly whisper.

“It’s always been that simple with us.” The corners of John’s mouth twitch into a smile. “You found me at a bar and decided we’d be together. I took you on our first date and decided to make you my wife just a year later… It can be that simple. Just say the word, lovey, and I’m yours.”

You study John’s face for a moment. Everything he said is true, whether you want to believe it or not.

“I want us to be together again.” You confirm.

“You mean that?” John’s grin widens, his grip on your hand tightening slightly.

You nod, your own smile growing.

John moved to cup your face, leaning closer to plant a kiss to your lips, but you pull back.

“Wait- Before we get too far, have my own secret that I need to confess.”

John’s eyes flicker between yours, his expression shifting from elated to confused.

You reach into your bag and pull out a little blue-and-white box and hand it to him.

John studies it, then looks up to you.

“Y’r fuckin’ with me.” He mutters, eyes practically twinkling.

“You didn’t even look at it yet.” You roll your eyes playfully.

John tilts the box to the side, letting the pregnancy test slide out and fall into his hand.

It’s positive.

“When did you take this? How long have you known?”

“I’ve had a feeling for a while… I took the test at Nadia’s.” You blush.

John tosses the test to the floor of the car and cups your face again, peppering you with kiss after kiss, murmuring a few I love you’s against your lips.

Your oldest, pretending to still be asleep, opens just one of his blue eyes and peeks at his parents giggling and kissing in the front seat.

He reaches his little arm out to gently shake your youngest awake.

“Kissies.” Your oldest whispers, pointing a finger to the front seat.

Your youngest’s little hands fly to cover her mouth, muffling an excited squeal.

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fenrirswood-hq · 6 months

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meet MICAH COLE WEBER

Hey, isn’t that MICAH COLE WEBER. I thought they went away for the summer? Did you hear they might be a WITCH? What I do know for certain is that they’re 26, and they’re HUMBLE and IMPULSIVE. They’re originally from BOULDER, COLORADO, USA, and have been in FENRIRSWOOD for 1 MONTH living in SUNE'S HARBOUR. I wonder if they still work as the LEAD SINGER OF THE FORGOTTEN. Best if they stay safe for now.

His mother was an addict, she didn’t know who the father for any of her two children were so it came to be that at a young age, Micah, being the eldest, adopted the role of a parent to his younger half-sibling Emily, who was born when he was around ten years old. It was hard for a ten year old to take on such great responsibilities but he managed it, despite being called a trouble maker for all his hard work, despite him being called a thief by almost everyone in their neighborhood, but what else was a young boy to do when money for diapers and formula was sparse. There were community centers that boasted aid for those in need and Micah took advantage whenever possible. Still, by the time he was fifteen he had accrued a considerable wrap sheet of minor misdeeds.

During his high school years, Micah turned to music. The black notes on white paper became friends, tones and overtures his companions, an old guitar ‘borrowed’ from the music room at school almost permanently strapped to his back available for his fingers to strum whenever he wanted a reminder that he wasn’t alone. The only good thing his mother did for him was help with his transition and gender affirming therapy. The rest of his life was up to him so he did what most forgotten teenagers did: he found a group of other forgotten teenagers and started a band. The Forgotten. They released their emotions and frustrations with the world and the way they were treated through screaming vocals and dirty guitar riffs. The most surprising thing of all was they were good, really good, and they started to grow.

They started small, playing in backyard parties, parking lots, then lied about their ages so they could book cafes and dive bars. It started to look like maybe they had a shot at actually doing this for real and not just for fun until senior year and suddenly his bandmates were talking about universities. The band became secondary, a contingency plan in case ‘real’ jobs didn’t work out. Micah couldn’t afford university so he took up a job at the local theater while his friends and bandmates moved onto the next stages of their lives.

Micah inevitably got involved with some not so great people because sweeping up popcorn between showings for minimum wage a few hours a week was not enough to keep house and buy all the fun toys and new shoes his little sister wanted. He got really good at stealing cars and the not so great people he was involved with really paid him well to do it. He was able to afford new shoes and pretty outfits for his little sister, to take her out to all the fancy restaurants and diners they would only gawk at before, get her new notebooks and toys and pay for that summer camp she’d been desperate to go to during break. Things were looking up. Except Emily missed the bus. She wouldn’t stop screaming and crying about how she was going to miss out and Micah wanted to fix it like any good older brother would. The only problem now being that he did not have a car of his own, it was stolen, but that didn’t even cross his mind as he loaded his little sister into the passenger seat and they started racing off down the street in an attempt to catch up with the rest of her classmates.

All it took was one missed stop sign. Micah didn’t even notice the police car until he had passed it and then came the lights. Micah should have pulled over but he thought he could get away so he hit the gas. That was the second worst mistake he had ever made. The first being getting into the car with his sister to begin with. It made the news, a high speed chase that ended in disaster and death. His sister was only nine years old and was pronounced dead on impact. Micah was sentenced to four years in a state penitentiary and only allowed out for Emily’s funeral service. His mother only visited him once and that was the last time he had ever seen her.

After his release, Micah focused his attention back to music and was pleasantly surprised when his old friends and bandmates were more than eager to get the band back together. He had worked on a lot of music during his incarceration and released an EP shortly afterward, one of the songs in particular ended up going viral. They had once been a sensation in their town and now their appeal was reaching the thousands and then the tens of thousands, hundreds of thousands, enough to get them signed to a label and booked for a two month tour across the States that got extended for another two months.

Now focusing on some new music and a new album, Micah and his band have settled in Fenrir's Wood after participating in a music festival in the UK.

Played by Kim. Portrayed by Elliot Fletcher.

#st.nonlocal #sp.witch #nbh.sunesharbour #aff.none #all.char #death mention tw #car accident tw #lsrp #city rp

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saintes-rpg · 7 months

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● TWENTY SEVEN ● WARLOCK ● MALE ● MUSICIAN ●

"I’ll pretend I’m letting go while you’re dancing in the past without colors."

Biography:

Now focusing on some new music and a new album, Micah and his band have settled in Saintes to take advantage of the protection the town offers as many of the members happen to be supernatural like him.

Micah Webber is played by Kim, 30, She/Her, PST

#taken characters #taken bio #kim #micah webber #elliot fletcher

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Fracture

i apologise in advance.

Miya Osamu x female reader

TW non-con, dub-con, psuedo-infidelity, referenced character death, angst, drunk reader, gaslighting, age gap, the slightest hint of nsfw

‘Yer still coming home for summer, right?’

How many weeks had your sister spent lovingly bullying you into coming down? How many hours had you spent listening to her gush over the phone about how excited she was?

And until about three months ago, you’d been excited too.

Despite the ten or so years between the two of you, there was nobody on earth you loved more than your sister. When you were sixteen years old and your parents passed away in a car accident, she was the one who stepped up to take care of you, putting a roof over your head, making sure you ate, slept and kept up your grades, balancing two jobs to do it.

And she grumbled and you fought, but she’s the only reason you managed to keep it all together enough to graduate high school, and when it came time for you to leave home for university, she was the one blinking back tears and loudly complaining about you ‘abandoning your poor older sister in her time of need’.

As if she hadn’t sat with you for hours, pouring over your options and gently nudging you in the direction of Tokyo.

“It’s just a few hours away,” you’d told her. “I’ll come back and visit you all the time.”

There was truth to that. The first six months of uni, you came home every other weekend arms full of expensive textbooks and mountains of assignments to write, but then she met Osamu.

You’ve never seen anybody fall so hopelessly in love as quickly as she had. Miya Osamu may as well have hung the damn moon in the sky for how your sister looked at him. And you suppose you can’t really blame her; he was stupidly tall, broad shouldered and handsome. Even back then his restaurant was a wild success, the man was talented and clearly knew how to cook. Nice was the wrong word to describe him, but Miya Osamu was good, and so long as he made your sister happy, that was enough for you.

And it wasn’t like he was the one to drive you away.

Osamu liked you – he let you camp out in his restaurant and work on your assignments when you desperately needed a change of scenery, stopping to humour you with conversation if it was quiet. He made you laugh, he was interesting, and the more your sister brought him around, the more you realised that you actually kinda liked the guy.

Things were just easy between the two of you, you never had to pretend to be anything but what you were.

You were the one who started putting space between you and her. It wasn’t intentional, at least not on their part, but somewhere along the way you’d started to realise that Osamu wasn’t the odd one out anymore; you were. She was building a life with him, and fortnightly visits turned into monthly ones, and then eventually it became once every few months and after that only on holidays and special occasions – their wedding being one of them.

At Christmas, cheeks flushed with alcohol, she’d pulled you into a one armed hug, pouting into your sweater. “You never come visit us anymore,” she’d sniffled dramatically, “I miss you.”

But it was Osamu – fingers laced with your sister’s, a hint of a smile curling at his lips – who’d voiced it. “Come spend yer summer break with us.”

Three months later you’d awoken to a call telling you that there’d been an accident. Your sister was dead.

Weeks pass by in a blur. Your classes are a haze of droning voices and mindless typing, you submit papers you don’t remember writing and you get good marks anyway. Your friends don’t know how to act around you, everything feels surreal, like you’re moving around in a dream, nothing touches you anymore. It hurts, but you’ve wrapped up that pain and put it someplace safe, seeking it out only when you’re alone and you just can’t bear the numbness a second longer.

The trip you’d promised to take back home to Osaka is the furthest thing from your mind, at least until Osamu calls you in the early hours of the morning, a week or so before the semester ends.

“Yer still coming home for summer, right?”

The word ‘no’ lingers on the tip of your tongue. The last time you’d seen each other was at the funeral, his face blank and hollow, eyes rimmed in red. He’d barely spoken more than a few sentences to you, but he’d stayed by your side the entire time, calmly thanking those who came up to express their condolences.

You’d lost your sister, but he’d lost his wife.

“Do you still want me to?” you ask him quietly instead. If you were in his shoes, you’re not so sure that you would.

Yet Osamu sighs heavily, and you catch a faint clinking sound on the other end of the line, like a bottle being set back against the marble countertop. “I just–” but he breaks off and something inside of your chest tugs. “I want ya here. The house is empty… she’s gone and I… I want ya here. Please.”

How could you possibly say no after that? Maybe you’ve been selfish, so wrapped up in your own grief and misery. You’d assumed that because Osamu had Atsumu he’d be okay. Not right away, of course, but he’d have that support around him – a support system that you were without.

It didn’t enter your mind that perhaps he was struggling too. That he was spending night after night alone in a house etched with memories of her. And just as you’d thought that Tsumu was the one keeping his head above water, maybe he was offering a hand to do the same for you.

—

He’s waiting for you on the porch when your taxi pulls up on the kerb. The driver’s nice enough to help you with your bags, but Osamu is quick to intercept, waving off the help with an impatient huff that almost makes you laugh.

“Yer here,” he says once he sets them down on the porch, grinning as he tugs you into a warm embrace.

It’s then that you get a good look at him, a proper look – and for a moment, you’re taken aback. You haven’t seen him since the funeral a few months back, granted, but Osamu doesn’t look the way you imagined him to – especially after your call the other night. There’s no hint of pallid skin, no bloodshot eyes with heavy bags underneath or a 5 o’clock shadow on his face. No, even with his dark hair still a mess, dressed in jeans and his Onigiri Miya tee, Osamu looks good. Healthy even, if the way the sleeves of his shirt cling to his biceps is any indication.

It takes you a second to realise that you’re staring, because Samu chuckles, brushing past you to bring your stuff inside.

“Y’know, most people start with a hello,” he calls over his shoulder.

Your cheeks heat, a hint of shame curling inside of you. Were you expecting him to be an inconsolable wreck? You know better than most that grief messes with people differently, and it’s not fair of you to judge him, however unintentionally, for not fitting that image of the grieving husband.

It’s a good sign.

“Hi, Samu,” you reply somewhat sheepishly, following him inside.

He’s already walking towards your old bedroom, the ‘guest room’ now (though you and he both know it’s always been yours), leaving you to trail behind the older man. Your intention is to stop him from going to too much effort, but as you walk past the living room, something catches your eye.

Or rather, the absence of something. Faltering in your step, it takes you a second to realise what’s missing, but as you glance around, brows furrowing in confusion, it hits you.

The pictures of you and your sister, the cute ones with her and Samu, the old family snaps that used to line the walls and sit on the TV unit, they’re gone. And it’s not just the pictures. The artwork your sister had painted that used to hang by the wall next to the kitchen, the little pot plants she’d doted on like children, hell, the throw that she’d knitted one winter that was always lying on the couch; they’re all gone.

The room feels almost alien without them, unfamiliar and cold. He’d hung up some cool photography stuff to fill in some of the spaces, but instead of homey it just felt… modern. Like the pictures you see in magazines of staged houses that nobody actually lives in.

And you must have been standing there for a while, because you don’t notice it when Samu comes back to find you still holding your purse, gazing around like a lost child.

“I didn’t get rid of ‘em, if that’s what yer thinking.”

You turn to face him, except Osamu isn’t looking at you. He’s gazing at the walls around you both, his face strangely impassive – except for his eyes. It’s impossible for you to miss the hurt that swims there, the faint sheen they didn’t hold only moments ago. “I packed them away – they’re in yer room if ya want to look through any of it, it’s just…” he trails off, finally glancing back to look at you. And once again, you feel that flicker of guilt slowly eating away at you. “It was painful, seeing her face everywhere.”

Before you left your apartment that morning, you swore to yourself that you wouldn’t cry today – but the tears come unbidden, and one moment you’re standing there staring at him and the next you’re choking on a sob, hand coming to your lips to try and stifle it.

Osamu’s there in a second, solid arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest. He doesn’t say a word (what’s there to say anymore?) he just hums softly, stroking your back with a gentle hand as you fall apart once more.

—

It’s surprisingly easy for the two of you to fall into a rhythm. There’d been some part of you that was hesitant about this whole thing – despite having a relatively good relationship with your brother in law, you knew that the only real connection between the two of you was your sister.

Without her, living in the same space and trying to navigate around the holes that she’d left, you’d expected it to be at least a little awkward between the two of you. But with Osamu working full time, it was kind of a non-issue. Aside from the first day when he’d taken the morning off to help you get settled, he was usually gone before you woke up, and most nights he wasn’t home until nine or ten. How he worked such long hours six days a week without collapsing out of sheer exhaustion was beyond you, but you tried to make things easier for him, cooking dinner for the two of you.

“Y’know ya don’t have to do this every night, right?” he asks you one night, sticking the leftover chicken into the microwave. “I have a restaurant, I can sort out my own dinner.”

You don’t tell him that despite being a rather terrible cook, it was one of the things your sister made sure to do every night in the weeks following your parents’ death. You’d spend most of your day holed up in your room if you weren’t at school, but dinner was the one time you’d sit and talk with her. It became a ritual; something sacred and special between the two of you.

You’re a better cook than she was by far, no comparison for Osamu, of course, but it’s the only way you really know how to help with… whatever this is.

Instead, you just offer him a wry look from your position on the couch, “And yet, you never do.”

He scoffs at that, a hint of a smirk curling at his lips, “Why would I eat there when I know yer cookin’ for me?”

—

Of course, as easy as it is to slip into living with Osamu, you can’t escape what happened there forever.

It doesn’t slip your notice the first night you spend there; the spare toothbrush in your bathroom, the decidedly masculine body wash in the shower, or how one of the shelves in the vanity was stocked with shaving cream and cologne and a few odd skin care products. You’d assumed that they were Atsumu’s, spares stashed away for the odd nights he crashed here. There’s another bathroom off the master bedroom, so you know it can’t be Samu’s stuff.

Except you find yourself proven wrong one night, when fresh from your shower and clad only in a fluffy white towel, you open the door to find a shirtless Osamu filling the space, one arm propped up on the doorframe.

“Anyone ever tell ya yer a bit of a bathroom hog?” he asks, smirking down at you.

And you’re so taken aback, utterly confused as to why he’s standing there half dressed, why it matters how long you take in the bathroom – never mind that the only thing covering you from complete nakedness is your towel – that you can only stand there, gaping like a fish as he laughs, takes you by the shoulders and physically shifts you out of the way as he slides on past.

It takes you until the following morning – Osamu’s sole day off – to ask him about it, clutching nervously at your cup of coffee while he busies himself making breakfast for the two of you.

“Samu, um, about last night…” you timidly begin.

He glances up at you from the stove, a single eyebrow raised. “What about it?”

Your cheeks are already burning, eyes darting between his face and the mug in your hands as you struggle to find the right words to bring it up without making things weird. “Well, I-I was just wondering… um, why you were using my bathroom?”

You’re not sure what kind of reaction that you’re expecting, but the dark look that flashes across his face isn’t it. For a split second, your insides clench, terrified that you’ve said the wrong thing–

But as quickly as it appeared, Osamu’s expression smooths over. He exhales heavily, setting down the spoon in his hand as he turns to face you properly, and when your eyes flicker up once more, you realise with a start that it’s pity that’s taken its place.

And a second too late, the pieces inside your head fall into place.

“Oh.”

Osamu nods only once. “I can’t go in without seeing her lyin’ there… I thought ya knew.”

And it’s like all the air’s been sucked out of the room. She’d died in their bathroom – slipped on the wet tiles and cracked her head open on the edge of their bath, and Samu had been the one to find her.

Weakly your eyes flutter shut, bitter nausea churning in your gut. How could he stay here, sleep in the next room when–

“Hey, hey, calm down, I gotcha,” Samu’s voice is at your ear, and your head’s spinning, pounding, and you can’t breathe. The mug in your hand tumbles to the floor, your coffee spilling across the wooden floorboards as weak fingers clutch at empty air, and then those arms are around you once more and Osamu’s trying to soothe you.

Breakfast is forgotten as he tugs you towards the couch to sit. And as he holds you, speaks to you in that calm, unwavering voice you try to focus on the scent of him (masculine and earthy, a hint of spice and cedar), the fabric of his shirt under your cheek and the gentle, almost lazy circles he rubs into your side and not the mental image of your sister, lying broken and bleeding on the bathroom floor.

—

It doesn’t take much effort to find the stash of your sister’s things that Samu set aside in your room. You lose hours flicking through pictures of her, smiling through your tears as they dredge up old, happy memories of the two of you.

Even the ones of her and Samu, his arms looped around her waist, resting his chin on the top of her head; she’s always wearing that bright grin that makes your heart ache.

There are a few of the three of you – one from the last time they’d come to visit you in Tokyo and you’d dragged them off to Disneyland. You’re standing between the two of them, beaming at the camera while Samu’s arm hangs off your shoulder and your sister, grinning widely and wearing the minnie mouse ears she’d bought at the first opportunity, tosses up a peace sign.

Softly wiping away your tears, you set it aside. You’ll have to ask Samu if you can take that one home with you.

—

“What’re ya doin’ tomorrow?”

It’s late, and the two of you are sprawled out on the couch, watching TV with a bowl of snacks between you like the old days when he asks.

“Not much,” you reply. “I was going to go to the markets at some point in the morning and maybe head to the beach after that, why?”

Grey-ish brown eyes flicker across to you, “A few of my old teammates are in town, we’re meetin’ up for some drinks. I want ya to come with me.”

“Oh,” the word slips out before you can stop yourself. “Um, yeah… if you want?”

It ends up sounding more like a question, a fact that doesn’t slip past Osamu if the amused little snort he gives in response is any indication. And it’s not that you don’t want to give up your plans in favour of going with him; you get along pretty well with Atsumu and you’ve met most of his old teammates at least once or twice, it’s just that you’re a little confused as to why he’d want you there to begin with.

They’re all at least twelve years older than you, and while it occurs to you that maybe he’s just inviting you along to be polite (not that that’s ever been his style before) the last thing you want is to be stuck feeling like an afterthought, all but ignored as he and his friends catch up.

“I said I wanted ya there, didn’t I?” He doesn’t wait for a response, “‘sides, Tsumu already asked if you were comin’.”

Which is how you find yourself dressed up for the first time in months, fingers smoothing out the hem of your dress as Samu tosses you a lazy grin from the driver’s seat. “Relax, wouldja? They ain’t gonna bite.”

You know that. They’re good guys, but no matter how much rationalising you try to do, you can’t seem to quell the anxiety eating you up, and the frustrating thing is that you don’t know why you’re feeling it.

He’d neglected to tell you that they weren’t meeting at some bar or restaurant, but at Atsumu’s condo in the city (‘Showy fuckin’ bastard’ Samu’d huffed as he’d pulled up in front of the building), but you suppose it really doesn’t make much of a difference.

“Ya look good,” he compliments, eyeing you for a moment while the two of you wait for the elevator.

Cheeks warming, you drop your gaze and stutter out a quiet thank you. Apparently unsatisfied, he leans closer, reaching one large hand up to gently ruffle your hair – grinning in satisfaction when you shriek and try to pry it away. “Relax,” he whispers again, the warmth of his breath tickling the bare skin of your neck. “Yer too wound up.”

Distracted by the arrival of the elevator, you fail to notice that instead of returning back to his side, his hand drops to your shoulder.

And it should be easier to do just that once you have a drink in hand. Atsumu greets you with a one armed hug, the only hint of anything out of the ordinary being the way his gaze lingers a beat too long as he studies your face, his eyes sharp and missing nothing. But whatever he sees (or doesn’t see) his expression softens into a smile, “Glad ya came.”

But even as you’re greeted by the others, falling into an easy conversation with Kita and Aran you can’t seem to shift the uneasiness in your stomach. There’s something in the air, a tension nobody really wants to admit to.

And you can’t quite tell if the others are surprised that Samu brought you at all, or if it’s just because you’re a living reminder of a tragedy that’s still fresh and raw, and everyone’s trying to pretend that it’s not. You don’t blame them for it, of course, they only mean the best. But you can see it in the way Suna side eyes you every now and then, how skilfully Akagi skirts anything that could touch a nerve when he comes up to chat.

It’s like they’re all walking on eggshells – though whether it’s for your benefit or Osamu’s, you’re not entirely sure. For his part, Samu sticks close, keeping your drink topped up, an arm slung over your shoulders as the afternoon wears into the evening.

Yet despite that, the alcohol you’re drinking far too quickly starts to work its magic, filling your body with a warm, pleasant little buzz, and you actually start to enjoy yourself. You laugh easier, giggling when the twins start to bicker, gasping in wicked delight when Suna offers to show you certain embarrassing photos of both of them on his phone (he has quite the collection), even letting Gin and Tsumu drag you into taking shots with them.

And all the while, Samu watches you, a soft smirk playing at his lips.

—

By the time he unlocks the front door and you stumble back inside, you’re absolutely plastered, giggling at nothing and tripping over your own feet.

As always, Samu’s there to catch you, strong, muscular arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you flush against him. “Careful there, princess,” he laughs.

You grin up at him, carefree and heartbreakingly beautiful. For the first time in months you feel light, you feel amazing and you don’t want this to end. Kicking your heels off, you skip inside, leading him by the hand. “Samu,” you call back over your shoulder. “I wanna dance.”

“Nobody’s stopping ya.”

“But there’s no music,” you pout, and once again he chuckles, letting you go to settle back into the leather couch as he pulls out his phone. A moment later a familiar, lively melody floods the living room, and you let yourself become lost to it. It doesn’t matter that you’re drunk and dancing alone, Samu’s dark eyes following your every move, you’ve never felt so free.

Arms raised in the air, hips swaying hypnotically to the beat, you lose track of time. It could’ve been minutes or seconds or a whole hour, but suddenly you’re not alone anymore – Samu’s there with you. His cologne invades your senses, why does he always smell so good? His body’s warm, almost hot as he slots himself behind you, caging you against him.

“Fuck, baby,” he growls, his voice sending shivers running down your spine. “Yer a little tease, ya know that?”

And there’s something wrong with that, you know there is, but you can’t seem to think of what it is – not when the weight of his hold’s impeding your movement. A pout adorns your face, a soft, almost petulant whine escaping your lips as you try in vain to untangle yourself, “Samu, lemme go. I wanna dance.”

He huffs out a laugh, but that doesn’t sound right either. “Don’t wanna dance with you, pretty girl.”

There’s something hard pressing against your lower back, and his hot breath ghosts over your neck a moment before lips descend to suck on the sensitive flesh.

In a split second, all that blissful, warm, drunken happiness evaporates. Samu groans lowly, his chest rumbling at your back, but there’s a pit of something cold and urgent that’s seeping through your veins, distant, foggy alarm bells tolling inside of your head and you don’t understand what’s happening, but you know that you don’t like it.

You want it to stop.

“S-Samu,” you whine, shifting uncomfortably against his hold.

This time he listens, drawing back just enough that he can turn you around to face him. And those familiar eyes are hooded and dark, burning with an intensity that makes you want to recoil even as he stares down at you, taking your cheek in hand.

You don’t even realise that you’re crying until his thumb’s brushing away your tears. There’s nothing comforting or pleasant (nothing of the Samu you know) on his face as he studies your fearful expression, but eventually he lets out a heavy sigh.

“She was positive I was cheatin’ on her,” he admits. “Did she ever tell ya that?” He pauses for a beat waiting for a reply, but when it’s clear that you don’t have one for him, he just scoffs, “No, ‘course not. That’d be admitting that not everything about our life was picture perfect, and heaven fuckin’ forbid we do that. Y’know, that's why she wanted ya back here so bad. She needed a buffer.”

Bitterness clings to every word like poison and you flinch, renewing your struggles to get away. Not that he lets you – the moment you start to squirm the arm around your waist tugs you closer, anchoring you against him. The tears come faster, followed by soft, hiccuping sobs, but Samu seems beyond caring at that point.

“Stupid bitch never could see what was right in front of her face. That’s what we were fightin’ about that night; she said she was gonna leave me.”

Your heart clenches, fear pooling in your gut, but Samu just smiles at you, a mockery of sweet tenderness, reaching back to tuck a stray lock of your hair behind your ear. “But you know I’d never hurt my pretty girl, don’t ya, baby?” he asks. “Just want a taste tonight.”

You don’t even have time to suck in a breath before he’s kissing you, cradling the back of your head as his mouth moves hungrily against yours.

And all you can taste is the whiskey on his tongue.

—

You can’t tear your eyes away from your reflection in the mirror, the faint, reddish blemish colouring your neck.

A hickey.

Tentatively, as if trying to prove that it’s real and not a figment of your imagination, you prod at the mark, only to wince at the tenderness. Definitely real.

You’d woken up to an empty house – unsurprising considering it was well past ten and you knew Osamu had work today – with your head pounding and your mouth uncomfortably dry. Wracking your brain, you can’t seem to conjure up a rational explanation for the bruise. Granted, you can’t really remember much of last night, only fragments of being at Atsumu’s place, and certainly nothing after you’d started taking those shots.

Which doesn’t make the uneasiness sitting heavy in your stomach any easier to take, because you know that you hadn’t been cosying up to anybody before you’d lost track of the night, and if it had happened after, then surely Samu or one of the others would have stepped in and put a stop to it.

And that should’ve been more of a comforting thought than it was, because if it didn’t happen at Atsumu’s then that meant it happened afterwards, when you were here with Samu.

Your heart thumps unevenly against your ribs.

Osamu. Your dead sister’s husband, your brother in law.

A hickey on your neck isn’t just a kiss. It’s not a simple, drunken peck against your lips, it meant that somebody had sucked on the skin, bitten at it, kissed until blood vessels broke – it’s not the kind of thing that happens accidentally.

A wave of nausea threatens to overtake you, and you barely manage to make it to the bathroom before you’re violently emptying the contents of your stomach into the porcelain bowl. And you know as you collapse onto the cool tiled floor, shaking just a little, that this time at least, the alcohol isn’t to blame.

You know Samu; you trust him implicitly. Whatever happened, it must have been a mistake or something. You’d both been drinking, and he’s still grieving and–

There’s no point jumping to conclusions or working yourself up any more than you already have. You’ll just bring it up with him when he gets home, you decide.

Yet anxiety and guilt gnaw at you as the hours crawl by, you’re half tempted to pick up your phone and just call him to ask point blank. The clock feels like it’s mocking you every time you glance up, and while you try your best to distract yourself with household chores and then busying yourself with dinner, none of it works for long.

By the time he does stride through the door, a little before ten, you’re an anxious wreck, all but wringing your fingers as you sit rigid and tense at the table. Most nights you eat before he gets home, hunger getting the better of you, but tonight you don’t seem to have much of an appetite.

“Smells good,” he comments with an easy grin, toeing off his shoes and dropping his wallet and keys by the door.

You open your mouth, but the words seem to get stuck in your throat as he drops a kiss down on the top of your head and walks on past to grab a bowl from the kitchen.

“I’m starving.”

Instead, you just swallow nervously as he pulls out the seat next to you and sits, not wasting another second before digging in. Your eyes quickly dart over to study him, but you don’t see any hint of guilt or unease on his face. He just looks like the same old Samu, a little tired maybe, but otherwise totally normal, and so you force yourself to pick up your spoon and follow suit.

And he’s never been one to fill silences with meaningless chatter, but tonight the quiet between the two of you feels oppressive, every clink of metal against ceramic echoing too loudly, every chew, every swallow setting you on edge. You can’t even taste the food, your stomach too twisted in knots for you to feel anything but nauseous after a few bites.

“… Is everything okay?” he asks after a few minutes, and it’s so sudden amongst the tense silence that you visibly jerk, almost dropping the spoon you’d been toying with.

You glance up to find him staring, brows furrowed in concern, and once again your stomach flips. It’s now or never.

“Um… did anything happen last night?” you ask, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Osamu’s frown deepens fractionally, and he tilts his head as your fingers twist in your lap, “What d’ya mean?”

Did we kiss? The words dangle on the tip of your tongue, but as you nervously meet his eyes, you find nothing but confusion and concern there. And for a moment, you almost speak them, but then Samu’s reaching across the table to take your hand in his, and as his warm palm swallows up yours, you lose your nerve.

“You sure yer okay?”

Whatever happened, he doesn’t remember it and neither do you.

Smiling tightly, you nod. “Yeah, it’s nothing. Nevermind.”

There’s no reason for you to drag him through the mud for this, you’re already feeling enough guilt and shame for the both of you.

—

You try to put it out of your mind, but it’s not that easy.

Lying awake in bed at night, your brain unwittingly turns over possibilities of what else could’ve caused the mark if not Osamu. Guilt gnaws at you every second that you’re around him and all the while he’s painfully oblivious to it all.

He’s always been affectionate with you, but all those stray, unthinking touches now carry a different weight with them. You find yourself ducking away from them more often than not, pretending that you don’t see the almost wounded look in those greyish-brown eyes when you do. You start to avoid him, finding other places to be whenever he’s home.

And you hate yourself for it, because Osamu’s been nothing but faithful to your sister for as long as you’ve known him. You’re the one acting like there’s something wrong between the two of you, like he’s treating you any differently than he always has when you know that’s not the case.

You know that, but when you catch sight of the fading bruise in the mirror, your stomach twists into knots all the same.

There are excuses and justifications aplenty, but none of them make you feel any better. You still find yourself sniffling into your pillow, swallowed up by your guilt when you imagine how devastated your sister would be if she knew.

You’d let her husband kiss you. Being drunk and miserable and grieving didn’t change that. Whether he knew it was you or mistook you for her; it doesn’t matter. Maybe it was a mistake, letting him talk you into coming.

Things were still too raw, too fresh. You’d thought that coming here would help, but so far it’s only made everything worse, and unintentionally or not, you can’t kid yourself that your presence is doing anything to help Osamu anymore.

You need to go back to Tokyo.

Somewhat selfishly, you’re tempted to put it off until the weekend, because you know that Onigiri Miya has a stall for the beginning of the summer festival and he’ll be too preoccupied with that to think about anything else – but you just can’t bring yourself to do that to him.

No, it’s better to rip it off like a bandaid; nice and quick.

You’d planned on breaking the news over dinner, but as you pick your way through your noodles, you notice that Samu’s quieter than he usually is. Every time you risk a glance up he’s staring at the table, looking entirely lost in thought, and it just doesn’t feel like the right time to bring it up.

Tomorrow, you decide, you’ll cook his favourite for dinner and tell him then.

—

The knocking startles you from your sleep with a jolt. It’s quiet, hesitant almost, but you’ve always been a light sleeper.

“Samu?” you croak out, fumbling blindly for the phone at your bedside to see what time it is.

The door opens, a crack of light from the hallway spilling into your room as Osamu looks in. “Sorry,” he murmurs, “I know it’s late, but I need to talk to ya ‘bout somethin’.”

He’s shirtless, clad only in a pair of cotton pyjama pants, but he doesn’t look to be in any immediate kind of trouble. Still, he wouldn’t have disturbed you in the middle of the night if it wasn’t something important, so you blearily wipe the sleep from your eyes and force yourself to sit up as he slips into your room and shuts the door behind him.

“What’s wrong?”

He hasn’t bothered to turn on the light, and even with the moonlight streaming in through your window, his face is cast in shadow as he takes a seat on the edge of your bed. And it’s silly, especially considering he’s the one who’s shirtless right now but it’s hard not to flush at the realisation that you’re only wearing a thin, satiny slip. You feel almost naked – he’s seen you in bikinis before, but it feels different here, when he’s the one in your bedroom.

“You asked me the other day about what happened the night we went to Tsumu’s,” he begins, his voice quiet and soft in the early hours of the morning, and suddenly your state of dress is the last thing on your mind.

Swallowing tightly, your pulse quickens and you still, waiting for him to continue.

And you feel, rather than see, the way he stares at you, inching a fraction closer when you don’t immediately answer. “And I lied. Or I didn’t exactly tell ya the full truth.”

“Which is?” you force out.

Samu’s shoulders rise and fall as he takes a deep, slow breath in and exhales heavily. “You were drunk and ya came onto me, tried to kiss me.” You flinch, a choked sound escaping your throat at the blunt admission, but he’s quick to reach for you, his hand coming to rest on your knee, squeezing it reassuringly. “And in the heat of the moment, I let ya.”

Hot tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but the moment you try to turn away from him, biting your lip and trying to blink back the tears, he stops you.

“Osamu–”

“‘Cause I’ve spent years waiting to kiss those lips, an’ I’m tired of pretending we both don’t want this.”

And he’s kissing you; soft and sweet and gentle, his lips molding to yours as he cups the back of your neck. You wonder if he can feel your pulse racing under his fingertips as he draws himself closer, groaning into your mouth.

It doesn’t matter that your hands are on his bare chest, pushing at him, hitting him – those muscles aren’t just for show; he’s immovable. The more you squirm, trying to extricate yourself so that you can plead with him to stop–

This is a mistake. A horrible, awful misunderstanding. He’s upset and grieving and not thinking clearly and you have to stop this.

He doesn’t know what he’s saying.

– the more his grip tightens until it starts to hurt and you’re whimpering into the kiss. Your tears are wetting his cheeks, but he doesn’t care, won’t stop and there’s a panic that rises within you every second that you’re entangled with him.

“Don’t do this,” he mutters, breaking the kiss as a sob rips its way free from your throat, “Don’t pretend ya don’t want this, baby. I know ya do. Stop being a little fuckin’ tease.”

He leans back in, intent on capturing your lips again, and in an act of desperation you reach for his face, cradling his cheek in your hand. “Samu, please,” you beg, wide, imploring eyes searching his face for any hint of a reprieve. “You’re scaring me. Stop, please, j-just for a second.”

Just a second, that’s all you need to try and snap him out of whatever the hell this is. One second.

Osamu stills, his face mere inches from your own, his body hovering atop yours. His breath, ragged and uneven, ghosts over your skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake, but you don’t dare move as he leans into the touch, grey eyes fluttering shut.

He sighs, the sound almost like a shiver. “Ya don’t need to be scared, ‘m gonna take good care of my girl.”

He doesn’t give you the chance to say anything else, not as he forces himself onto you once more. You used to marvel a little at Osamu. Tall, handsome and strong, even in his mid thirties; Samu was fit. Now, straddling your waist, pinning your wrists to the wall with one hand, the other palming at your tits, he dwarfs you entirely. He isn’t impatient, not as he kisses you languidly, not as he slides the soft, satin up your thigh, revealing your underwear.

Your hiccuping sniffles aren’t enough to move him, you’re not strong enough to physically fight him off. He doesn’t pay the tearful, breathless pleas sobbed out between kisses any mind.

Osamu grabs you by the waist and flips you onto your front, lips brushing at the nape of your neck as he smooths your hair back, and you’re utterly helpless to stop him.

And as his hand runs down your side and he coaxes your hips up into the air, you almost wish that he was rough. Because this pretense of gentleness, glinting steel masquerading as silk – it’s too intimate, and you feel complicit.

Like you’re willing.

Like you want this with him.

An act of love as he tugs your panties down to your knees and hums in quiet satisfaction at the sight of your bare cunt, glistening just for him.

There’s a voice in your head telling you you should be screaming and kicking and snarling like a wild, feral thing, but Osamu’s grabbing at your ass, spreading it to get a better look, his thumb gliding along your slit and all you can think about is the picture he’d packed away, the one of the three of you at Disneyland.

Samu’s arm slung over your shoulder, and your sister’s bright smile.

He spits; a warm, fat glob of saliva hitting your pussy, and as it slowly dribbles down the only sound that leaves your lips is a soft, broken whine. You don’t fight him when he takes his cock in hand and guides the flushed head, pre-cum already oozing at the tip, along your cunt, you just lie there, a toy for him to move and manipulate however he wants.

“You’ll forgive me for this, I know ya will,” he murmurs, softly squeezing your hip just once as something thick and blunt presses at your entrance.

But it doesn’t matter, not as his cock sheaths itself inside of you with one hard, brutal thrust, because you’re not sure you’ll ever be able to forgive yourself.

#yandere haikyuu #yandere osamu miya #yandere osamu x reader #yandere osamu #yandere osamu miya x reader #tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #tw: infidelity #angst #drunk reader #manipulation and gaslighting ahead y'all #dilf osamu

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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years

Note

A-Yuan wasn’t the only child among the Wen Remnants, just the youngest.

Children's Day - ao3

Lan Wangji carefully scooped up the boy out of his hiding place, tucked beneath a pile of stones, sick with fever and fast asleep.

It was a good hiding place. If Lan Wangji hadn’t played Inquiry and demanded to know if there were any living beings around in this cursed place of death, he would never have found the small child.

He remembered him – this was little A-Yuan, who Wei Wuxian had taken down into town to play, the one Lan Wangji had bought all those toys for in his confusion, the one who called him rich-gege. Barely more than two years old, having never known anything but war.

He was all that was left, now. There was nothing else left in the battlefield.

No one else left.

Lan Wangji closed his eyes in pain.

I’ll care for him for you, he promised Wei Wuxian’s ghost, wherever it might be now. Now that you cannot.

I’ll take him back to Gusu to raise as my own – wishing you were by my side.

-Earlier-

“Sect Leader!” one of his aides cried out when he staggered back into camp. “What – who’s that?”

Jiang Cheng looked down at the girl in his arms. She was – four, maybe? Five? He had no idea.

She looked a bit like Wen Qing.

“I found her hiding in the corner of the battlefield when she made a noise,” he said hoarsely. “The Wen sect remnants…by the time I got there, they were almost all dead already, all her family. She’s – she’s young. It didn’t seem right.”

Wei Wuxian always liked children, he thought vaguely to himself as he looked down at her. It wasn’t so much of a surprise that he would keep one there…in fact, if he thought back to that horrible meeting they’d had that one time he’d come to the Burial Mounds to try to talk to Wei Wuxian, he thought he remembered there being a small child there. This must be her.

She was bigger than he remembered, but that was what happened with small children, wasn’t it?

“Her surname is Wen?”

“No,” Jiang Cheng snapped automatically, and his aide took a step back from his vehemence. “The Wen sect is dead, you understand? All of them. The cultivation world refused to allow them to live, that much is obvious enough. Her surname…”

He looked down at her.

I failed Wei Wuxian, he thought grimly. I won’t fail his legacy.

“Her surname will be Jiang.”

-Earlier-

“We found this child hiding in the Demon Subduing Cave,” one of the guards reported, looking nervous. “Lianfeng-zun – what do we do with them?”

Jin Guangyao frowned down at the child, judging the child’s age to be about five or six – maybe seven, considering the likelihood of malnutrition at the Burial Mounds. If they were any younger, he would’ve said that the child ought to just execute them as useless; any older, and he would’ve had no choice but to declare them an enemy combatant, and thereby order them executed.

At this age, though…they were still young enough to be taught to forget their current surname, and to learn new loyalties, and yet old enough to perhaps remember a little of what they had learned, living as they had for a few years with the inventor of demonic cultivation.

Jin Guangyao glanced at the papers in his hands, full of barely legible scribbles, laying out powerful new spells and interesting ideas. They would help Xue Yang with his work – but not as much as a helper would, and naturally they’d just brutally executed all the other ‘helpers’ that might have been available.

Not exactly Jin Guangyao’s personal preference, but he wasn’t the one leading the Jin sect army.

Still, his father, who had been the one leading, had retired to his tent, and now Jin Guangyao was the one with the power, left to be in charge of mopping up. That, in turn, gave him a little more leeway, which meant he could implement his own thoughts, rather than badly thought out instructions.

“Put the child in my tent,” he said, and smiled. “The poor thing must have gotten lost and entered the battlefield – after we arrived. You understand?”

The guard saluted deeply. “Lianfeng-zun is kind and beneficent,” he said, and his expression was worshipful. “I will tell the others that the child is from some distant Jin branch.”

Jin Guangyao hadn’t intended for him to do that, but – well, he couldn’t exactly refute it now, could he, and anyway there were worse things to happen. Everyone would know that he had kindly taken in some orphaned child of war, which would be good for his reputation.

He smiled and nodded, and thought of the future.

-Earlier-

“Well, shit,” Nie Mingjue said, staring at the trio of children: nine or ten years old, he thought, maybe a little older, two girls and a boy. They stared back at him, wide-eyed and terrified – they were very clearly trying to sneak off the Burial Mounds down the back way.

Nie Mingjue rubbed his face, glad that he’d insisted on doing the forward scout work before the attack tomorrow morning himself rather than let it go to someone else. He hadn’t wanted to come to this blasted place in the first place, being that he still wasn’t sure exactly what had gone down with Wei Wuxian, who’d been a good man once. But good Nie cultivators had died at Lanling City at Wen Ning’s hands, the Jin sect claiming that that brutal attack was at Wei Wuxian’s instigation, and at the Nightless City at Wei Wuxian’s hands directly, and he didn’t have any evidence to exculpate the man, either; he had no grounds to look the families of those Nie cultivators in the eye and tell them not to pursue vengeance against the man who had slaughtered their brothers and fathers and sons, sisters and mothers and daughters, like they meant nothing.

They deserved vengeance.

Just as he had, for his father.

But at the same time…

“You’re all surnamed Wen, I take it?” he asked, and they slowly nodded. “Dafan Wen?”

Another nod.

“Wrong answer,” he said, making a snap decision. This wasn’t like his father at all, not really; he had wanted to kill Wen Ruohan, who had done the deed himself, while these children clearly hadn’t done anything. “Swear to me here and now that you won’t seek revenge for your sect or family, and you can be surnamed Nie instead.”

They looked at each other.

“Your family didn’t send you to run away because they wanted you to take revenge,” he said. It was a guess, but he could tell from the way their shoulders sagged that he was right. “They wanted you to live. Well?”

They swore.

He took them home.

-Earlier-

She tripped and fell flat on her face.

“Hey, girl!”

She looked up, eyes wide with terror – she hadn’t expected to be caught so soon – but the cultivator in front of her didn’t strike her down. He was a young man, just a few years older than her, and he looked nice, kneeling to help her up.

“Are you all right?” he asked. “Did you get lost?”

Lost? From where would she get lost, exactly?

Despite that, she nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that. Here isn’t a good place, though – we’re going to have a battle tomorrow…can you tell me where you’re from?” He frowned. “Or – can’t you speak?”

An idea suddenly came to mind, and she shook her head, lifting up her hands to mime signs like the ones she’d seen Lady Wen and her brother use sometimes when they needed to talk without disturbing others.

“Doesn’t talk,” he murmured to himself. “Clothing of white, ripped all to ribbons –”

She’d torn out any trace of the red sun. White was a common color, but she was old enough to know that she couldn’t let anyone know she was surnamed Wen.

“Oh, I’ve read about this before! Are you a bird yao that’s cultivated to humanity?”

What?

She’d been thinking of trying to pass as a traumatized war veteran, but she was only fourteen, after all; it wasn’t very believable. Of course, it was a lot more believable that bird yao – who would leap to that conclusion?

“My surname is Ouyang,” the man said, smiling brightly at her. “You should come back with me – I can teach you to speak, and we can give you a name…how about ‘Luo’ as a surname? That has to do with birds. Or we could surname you Bai, instead, since your clothing is white! Or maybe -”

She smiled helplessly at his nonsense. What a silly, cheerful man! Maybe she’d overestimated his age, he couldn’t be more than two or three years older, at most, and his brain was clearly not in the right place, filled up to the brim with romantic stories and adventure tales instead of facts.

It was a nice change, actually.

She accepted his hand as she stood.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-Earlier-

Lan Wangji had returned home and submitted to a dreadful punishment. The elders he had injured on Wei Wuxian’s behalf were either in treatment or recovering.

As for the rest that had been at the Nightless City…

Many were dead.

Lan Qiren landed in the Burial Mounds, lips pressed tightly together.

He knew he was taking a risk in coming here to Wei Wuxian’s lair – no matter what Lan Wangji thought, whatever good points he’d had in the past, the man was now little better than a mad dog. He’d caused the death of three thousand people just the day before, three thousand innocents that hadn’t had anything to do with anything; why would he hesitate to attack his old teacher?

There was already talk of a siege – Jiang Cheng himself had promised to lead it, to wipe off the stain on the Jiang sect’s record, and the Jin sect had been right behind him. Even Nie Mingjue had been dragged in against his will, suborned by his sect members’ need for vengeance. As for the Lan Sect…Lan Xichen had looked so stricken by the thought that Lan Qiren had volunteered for the grim duty, despite Lan Qiren having never been much of a fighter and even less of a general. He intended to take only the smallest possible contingent, and to limit their work as much as possible to cleansing the dead rather than killing those who remained there – that much, at least, he could do for his nephew.

Either way, though, no matter his powers, Wei Wuxian would not live out the week.

If Lan Qiren desired vengeance, he need only wait.

And yet, here he was.

Alone, practically unarmed – and here nonetheless.

An old woman came out from the cave and squinted at him.

“It’s over,” she said sadly. “Isn’t it?”

Lan Qiren looked at her. One of the Wen remnants that Wei Wuxian had surrounded himself with, he assumed; the ones he’d given up his comfortable life for, claiming he was only acting as a righteous man ought. Perhaps he even had thought he was, back then.

Perhaps he really had been, back then.

“Yes,” Lan Qiren said, and cleared his throat. “After what he did at the Nightless City – the verdict is unquestionably death. But the rest of you…there are armies coming, and armies are not known for their leniency, especially not on passerby with the wrong surname. But they’re not here yet. There’s still time to flee – if you go now, you could take on a new surname and find some quiet place to live on.”

Lan Wangji had said they were civilians. Civilian life was to be prioritized above all else.

Lan Qiren was only doing what he must.

Despite his well-meant warnings, however, the old lady shook her head.

“There’s nowhere to go, and we won’t give up our surname,” she said, polite but stubborn to the last. “But thank you for taking the time to come here to tell us.”

“Wangji said that there were children here,” Lan Qiren insisted, ignoring her refusal. “If you won’t flee with them, at least send those that are old enough out on their own, and hide the younger ones. Tell them to forget their surnames – most people won’t rampantly murder children, so there’s a chance they’ll make it through, and live. Can you deny them that, just for pride?”

That gave the old woman pause.

“We’ll do what we can,” she said, and then eyed him. “How good are you at medicine?”

Lan Qiren frowned. “I can’t provide care –”

“She’s already dead. Come help anyway.”

The woman in question was not already dead, but dying – she was in her late teens, seventeen or eighteen at most, and she was in labor. From the glassiness of her eyes, the redness of her cheeks, and the threadiness of her pulse, it was clear that infection had long ago set in. It was not an exaggeration to say she was dead, little better than a corpse.

She was little more than a child.

“I don’t want her to die alone,” the old woman said. “But if you stay with her, I can use the time to try to take care of the rest. You’re not wrong, I suppose – the children, at least, deserve a chance to live on, even if it means leaving our surname behind.”

Lan Qiren looked down at the woman, unconscious already and unlikely to ever wake, and yet still whimpering. “And her child?”

The old woman looked surprised. “Can a child born like this still live?”

Lan Qiren had almost no medical training beyond the most superficial basics that were the necessity for any battlefield or night-hunt, with one sole exception: he had supervised the births of both his nephews by himself with little aid – his brother’s wife hadn’t wanted anyone else to be present, possibly in an attempt to prematurely enter her grave, possibly just out of spite. He had studied very hard in the days leading up to those births, and knew far more on the subject than most men did.

“It’s possible,” he said. “Unlikely, but – possible.”

He hesitated for a long moment.

“I can take the baby,” he finally said. “Pass him off as some war-orphan child of distant Lan cousins, sent to me on account of their deaths. I could raise him, or else give him to my cousin to raise; he’s got a large enough family that no one would question it.”

“Why would you do that?”

Lan Qiren looked at the woman who was dying, little more than a child herself. “Because of the children I can’t help.”

The old woman was quiet for a little while.

“Very well,” she said, and leaned forward to whisper the name the young woman had thought about for her child into his ear. “That works with Lan as a surname, wouldn’t it? That’s not bad.”

“Not bad at all,” Lan Qiren agreed, and rolled up his sleeves, settling down beside the girl. “Not bad at all.”

#mdzs #lan wangji #jiang cheng #jin guangyao #nie mingjue #lan qiren #original characters #my fic #my fics #children's day #some untamed elements

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