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daechwitatamic · 1 year

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IX. Heedless and Willful || KNJ

(banner by @/itaeewon)

Title: My Feet to Follow, and My Heart to Hold (Masterpost)

Rating: NSFW - minors dni

Genre: college!au, roomie!au, angst, s2l, the absolute slowest of burns

Pairing: Namjoon x female reader, unrequited Taehyung x reader

Beta'd by @/kookstempo, @/casuallyimagining, and @/toikiii - thank you endlessly!

Summary: You know a lot about the many types of love thanks to Kim Taehyung. You love him as the only person you see as “family”, you love him as your very best friend, and you love him as the beautiful, funny man he’s become. But when a twist of fate during your senior year has you rooming with his good friend Kim Namjoon, you just might find that you have plenty left to learn about love.

Lesson One: there are such things as a right way and a wrong way to love and to be loved.

Things accelerate between you and Namjoon, but complications linger.

Section Warnings: language, kissing, groping, breast play/nip stim, fingering, protected sex, penetrative sex, multiple orgasms (f. receiving), multiple rounds

WC: 8k

The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road A gateless garden, and an open path: My feet to follow, and my heart to hold. - Journey | Edna St. Vincent Millay

Saturday December 1st

The weekend brings with it a deluge of rain, a slow-moving weather system that has the streets holding inches of water, the road-side drains overflowing.

You stay inside all day, and so does Namjoon, but you largely orbit around each other, working on your own things, leaving the other alone.

Things had accelerated so suddenly between you that now you feel like you had slammed on a brake, inertia carrying you to teeter dangerously over an edge. You’re not sure if Namjoon is feeling the same way, but you think it’s probable.

You kind of want to tip over the edge, is the thing.

You work in your room, sitting at your desk, your bedroom door wide open. You’re kind of working, kind of watching water rush down the road below the apartment. It’s well after dinner, pitch black outside, but the streetlights illuminate the flow as the rainwater moves along beneath you. You’re having trouble focusing because of the rain - it lulls you to sleep, tricks you into thinking it’s bedtime. You can’t remember ever seeing rain like this, and the sound is all-encompassing, like you could wrap yourself up and exist within it.

You’ve just given up on focusing and closed your laptop for the night when there’s suddenly a huge boom from outside, loud and close enough that the floor shakes beneath your feet, and everything goes black around you. You scream, startled, and jump to your feet, knocking your desk chair over behind you with a loud clatter. That startles you a second time, and you scream again, clutching at your chest and backing yourself against your bedroom wall, heart pounding.

Across the apartment, Namjoon shouts your name, his voice deep and commanding, clearly alarmed.

The dark presses in around you, little fingers on your ankles and arms. You can’t see anything - not your bed, not the chair on the floor, not your hand in front of your own face. The silence is suddenly so loud it throbs around you - the sudden lack of normal noise toying with your senses. You’ve never been in quiet like this - no hum from the refrigerator, the central air system, your devices. All you can hear is your heartbeat pulsing in your ears, the angry, relentless sound of rain, and the echo of Namjoon’s voice calling your name, playing back and looping through your mind so loudly that it’s almost like you’re hearing it again.

You are hearing it again - his alarmed voice cuts through the darkness, calling your name with a little bit of an edge, a tinge of fear this time.

“I’m here,” you manage, your voice coming out like a gasp.

From the living room, you can see a small point of light coming rapidly closer, and then Namjoon appears in your doorway, guided by his cell phone’s flashlight. He seems a little out of breath as he pauses in the doorway, taking in the scene before him - you pressed against the wall, a hand still pressed to your racing heart, the chair askew on the floor, the rain pelting the window like it wants to break the glass.

Once he can see that you’re unharmed, Namjoon clicks his phone off, and you both let your eyes adjust. In the dark, everything various shades of black, his shape seems so large, taking up so much of your vision. He steps around the chair, not bothering to right it, and stops about two feet from you.

“I think a transformer blew out there,” he says, his voice odd, like most of his brain isn’t even aware that he’s speaking.

Two feet from him, your hands itch to reach out and touch him. Your feet beg to close the space between you. Your heart continues to throw itself against your ribcage, furious and demanding to be heard. The darkness takes its tiny fingers off your limbs, presses guiding fingertips to your back instead, nudging you forward.

If you’re going over the edge anyway, isn’t it better to jump than to fall?

Two feet from him, in the most profound darkness and silence you’ve ever experienced in your life, you find yourself nearly gasping for each breath as you fight your body’s every urge.

A line of St. Vincent Millay’s poetry leaps into your head, unbidden:

in me alone survive the unregenerate passions of a day when treacherous queens, with death upon the tread heedless and willful, took their knights to bed

Heedless and willful, you jump, crossing the space in a single stride. Namjoon’s hands coming to your waist like he was waiting for you.

He can kiss you only for a moment before he’s interrupted by you tugging his shirt up; he breaks away from you to pull it the rest of the way off and tosses it behind him, coming back to attach his mouth to your neck, sucking and kissing a line down to your collarbone. You run your hands along his chest, over his pecs, down his stomach, up his sides, your head thrown back to make room for him as he nips and soothes at your throat.

He groans happily as you dip your fingers towards the waistband of his jeans, then tugs bossily at your own shirt. You peel it off, dropping it to your feet, and move to kiss him again, but he’s busy reaching around your back and deftly pinching the clasp of your bra. It falls away, and you shake the straps loose from your arms, hearing it hit the ground. Cold air assaults your chest only a second before Namjoon’s large hands cup you, his mouth searing against yours out of nowhere.

Everything’s heightened in this total dark, total silence. You can hear every hitch of his breath, the thud of your own pulse, can feel every tiny movement of his hands, of his mouth. He toys lightly with your nipples, running his fingers in circles around them before plucking at them lightly, then abandoning your chest to run his hands over all the newly uncovered skin - your stomach, your back, your arms.

“You’re gorgeous,” he murmurs against your mouth. “I’ve thought so the whole fucking time, you’re so fucking gorgeous, I can’t think straight sometimes.”

“Namjoon,” you gasp quietly, half a reaction to his words and half a reaction to him gripping the waistband of your joggers and pulling them down over your ass in one motion. You kick them off and he walks you backwards to your bed, pushing at your shoulders until you fall backwards. You hear his zipper as he removes his jeans, and when he climbs up next to you on the bed you can feel but not see him straining against his boxer-briefs.

He brings his mouth to a nipple without warning, giving it one experimental lick and taking it between his lips when you whine in appreciation. You can feel yourself getting impossibly wet as he alternates licking and sucking, and his spare hand rubs circles down your body until he reaches the lace edge of your underwear, and he pauses. It’s the first time tonight he’s shown any hesitation.

He removes his mouth from your breast and moves back up where he can kiss you. His fingers skim the lace, a ghost of a touch, barely there.

“You good, baby?” he murmurs, so low, and you feel yourself clench - over the timbre of his voice or his cocky use of the pet name, you’re not sure. “Is this okay?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “Touch me. Please.”

It’s wild how dark it is, how you can’t see anything on his face, can’t see which way he’s moving; the dark seems like it’s pressing in around you, like it’s the very thing shielding you from the onslaught of rain that you can still hear loud and clear.

Namjoon’s fingers skim over your slit so lightly it almost tickles, and you squirm, needing more. He presses harder on his second pass through, pressing the lace against your entrance. He moans when he feels how wet you are even through your panties, pressing himself harder against your leg as he swipes his fingers through again. Then he’s hooking his thumbs under the waistband and pulling your panties down your legs, cupping your sex with his whole hand.

“Fuck, baby,” he whispers hoarsely, and presses his middle finger into your heat up to the last knuckle. You suck in a breath, fingers curling in your bedspread, as he fucks you that way - middle finger only - for the barest of minutes before adding a second digit.

“God,” you groan, feeling yourself stretch to accommodate it. “Damn it.”

“Yeah?” he murmurs. “You’re so wet, what the fuck.” He’s right - you can hear it each time he pushes back into you. Your back arches, your body trying to press his fingers even deeper. When his thumb grazes your clit, you gasp out loud.

He swallows the rest of your noises with a kiss as he continues, and when the crest of your orgasm snaps a few minutes later you moan messily into his mouth as his fingers fuck you through it, steady and unyielding.

“Holy shit,” he groans when you clench around his fingers as the waves hit you. “That’s right, baby, fuck.”

You’re reaching for his briefs the second you’re back in your body, down from your high, and he pulls his fingers from you gently to help wiggle them over his hips and off his body. You slide your hand over him lightly and he hisses through his teeth as you wrap your fingers around him and rub him base to tip, sliding your palm over the wet head of his cock, using his own pre-cum to slick up your hand as you continue.

He’s hot in your hand, bigger than you’d expected, and you revel in listening to his light moans turn breathy as you toy with him. Finally, he grabs your wrist, pressing a kiss to your jaw.

“Should I go get a condom?” he asks, voice so low it’s almost a growl.

“I have some,” you tell him, rolling away from him and sliding your nightstand drawer open. You lay on your stomach so you can use both hands to rip a new one from the strip, and Namjoon rises to his knees behind you, one hand tracing the curve of your ass.

You reach over your shoulder to hand him the foil packet, and you’re startled by his phone light again when he turns it on so he can see what he’s doing. His phone lays on the bed, illuminating him from below, and you take a minute to take in how good he looks. You’d had no idea he had that body under his sweaters and baggy t-shirts.

He turns the light off again, the darkness surprising you with its intensity all over again. Your eyes are so busy trying to adjust again that you miss him moving until you feel his hands guiding you to lay back, his legs stretching between yours, his tip prodding your entrance as his lips find yours again.

“You’re okay?” he checks in a whisper, reaching down and squeezing himself at the base.

You kiss him in answer, pressing your core against him, letting your body tell him yes, I’m fine, yes, I’m ready.

He rocks into you slowly, an inch at a time, and the sensation tears a low, long groan from you. It mingles with his own; he breathes through his mouth in short pants, tinged with half-formed moans, until he bottoms out and he stills.

“Give me just a second,” you request, whispering, and he nods, running a hand reverently down your face, down your side, coming to rest under your ass, hitching you up slightly as he adjusts. You hiss as the movement forces him just a touch deeper as you struggle to relax.

He kisses you again, deeply and sweetly, and as you grip his shoulders and feel yourself relax, you start to move, little bits at a time.

“Okay,” you whisper, when you’re ready. “Thanks.”

He scoffs, like it’s ridiculous of you to be thanking him, but he starts to move. It’s slow, and even though you can barely see him you get the feeling that his eyes are on you. In the amplified silence, each breath seems to echo between you, each tiny moan or hitch of breath coming through loud and clear. You kiss sloppily, your hands exploring as he keeps the slow rhythm. His cockhead drags against you, the feeling agonizingly sweet, and you arch against him, trying to bring him closer.

The rain beats against the windows in waves as he fucks you slowly, like it wants in, like it has a score to settle. You press fingertips gently to Namjoon’s face, blindly feeling your way to the flat of his cheekbone, down to his jaw. Everything feels so intense, your fingers shake a little as they trace his jawline, reverent.

“Namjoon,” you whisper, and he answers you by sheathing himself completely, pressing his mouth to yours, and doubling the pace. He’s so large, it feels like he’s everywhere - inside you, around you, above you, everywhere.

You cry out when he finds an angle that has you seeing stars with each stroke, and he grunts, working hard to keep hitting it the same way. You lock your legs around the back of his thighs, trying to keep him close. You cling to his shoulder with one hand and tangle the other in his hair, holding tight as he pounds into you. When he feels you start to pulse around him, the beginning of an orgasm starting to build up, he actually laughs, once.

“Close, baby?” he asks, reaching down to press his thumb against your clit.

“Y-yeah,” you gasp, the feeling of electricity racing clear down to your toes. “Joon, please, oh - god -.”

He hums, pleased, and shifts you so he’s holding you up by the hips, the angle changing just slightly.

“Ohmygod, yes,” you cry, and the circles he’s been rubbing into your clit suddenly send you flying, your eyes screwing shut, a single, wordless wail leaving you as every muscle in your body goes taut.

“Fuck,” Namjoon hisses as you squeeze around him, dropping his forehead onto yours and gasping your name as he spills into the condom inside you. He pumps into you a few more times as your muscles relax by degrees, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple.

You lay tangled together for a few minutes, both breathing hard. Namjoon slips out of you gingerly and shifts like he’s going to get up. You kiss him quickly, before he can get too far, and he stills, letting you.

When you’re content, he disappears into the bathroom, dealing with the condom and cleaning up. He returns with a damp cloth for you, turning the light on his phone back off again when you’re done.

In the total darkness, he pulls you close. You rest your head against his chest, his arms around you, and listen to his heart. Despite the storm and the power-outage, you’ve never felt so safe. You can’t imagine ever feeling anything else while he’s wrapped around you like this.

“You called me baby,” you tease after a little while, and he snickers.

“It just slips out,” he laments, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “Sex makes me… affectionate. I have trouble untangling the two.”

You hum against him. “I think I like that,” you observe, and he hugs you a little tighter.

You’re starting to drift off when he says your name again.

“Hm?”

“I promise this isn’t the post-sex chemicals talking,” he says carefully. “But I wanted you to know. I think… I’m really falling for you.”

You press your lips together, wrap an arm around his middle and hold him close. Your chest feels like it’s caving in, your eyes suddenly burn, you can’t inhale.

Because you’ve felt it, too. And you don’t know what to do with it.

He takes your silence the wrong way. “You don’t have to - don’t feel pressure to say anything -.”

“No,” you say quickly. “I promise, it’s very much not that. I’ve… maybe been thinking the same thing. It’s just… scary. You know?”

He presses his lips to the top of your head. “Yeah,” he says. “It can be. But I’m here. We’re in it together, okay?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, tangling your feet in his legs, searching for a warm spot for your chilly toes. “Okay.”

Sunday December 2nd

The lights come on hours before dawn, your lamp illuminating the room in a yellow glow, your laptop dinging as it starts to receive charge again, your alarm clock numbers flashing 12:00 over and over again. You lay there, still, coming to your senses by degrees.

Namjoon is still in bed with you; you can feel his body, warm and solid, behind you. Minutes pass and it becomes clear by his steady deep breathing that the lights aren’t going to wake him up. You roll slowly, trying not to disturb him. He’s sleeping on his back, his face turned away from you, one arm flung up over his head. You feel yourself smile as you look at him.

There’s not a doubt in your mind that you want this, that you want him - wholly, completely, without boundaries or limitations. There’s not a doubt in your mind that the way he treats you - the way he gives you such openness and understanding, the way he listens and asks questions, the way he hears you and cares for you - is unlike anything you’ve ever experienced. When you’re with him, you feel like he’s by your side, like he’s got you.

And while Taehyung had been physically next to you for the last seventeen or so years of your life, it’s never felt like this.

You scoot closer, lining your body up against his side, and reach an arm over his stomach, pulling yourself as tight to him as you can and laying your head on his chest. In his sleep, he shifts, sensing the difference, the arm that was over his head coming down over your back and pulling you in. Then his head lolls back to your side, his eyelids fluttering. He reaches to press a kiss to the top of your head, and then flops back down against your pillow.

“Lights’re back?” he tries to ask, the words slurring together with sleep.

“Mhm,” you answer. “Do you want me to get up and turn the lamp off?”

“No,” he says, voice low and scratchy. “Stay.” Then he reaches over, guiding your chin up gently so he can lean down and kiss you again.

You open for him immediately, leaning up on an elbow to reach him better. It’s different this time - slow and sensual, explorative, relaxed. There’s no rush, no pressure for it to go further. His fingers run through your hair once, twice, then release it, skimming down your bare back instead. You realize with a shiver that you hadn’t gotten up to find pajamas in the dark.

He keeps you warm anyway, his hands roaming your back, your arms, your ass, your back again. You have a lot of things you want to tell him, but you save them, store them for later, as your body responds to his touch and you give yourself to him again. When he pants your name against your lips you feel the words bubbling up inside you, beating against doors to be let out, but you lose them along with your senses when he tips you over the edge again.

You clean up better after this time, waddling to the bathroom to pee and then stopping at your dresser to pull out pajamas. Namjoon hovers near your bed, clearly unsure if he should head to his own side of the apartment or not.

You scoff at him, like he should know better. “Get back in that bed,” you demand teasingly, and he listens, running a hand through his messy hair and looking around like he’s a little dazed, a little unsure of how he got here.

You click the lamp off and make your way back to him.

He wraps his arms around you immediately, and you eventually fall asleep matching your breaths to his slow ones.

Wednesday December 5th

I know my many failings I just can’t be the girl I should But I hope you know despite this In my life, you’re everything good

It’s certainly not good writing, and you have zero intention of turning this in for anything - zero intention of another living soul ever seeing it. But it feels good to put the words to paper.

You close the notebook when Gloria and another girl from class join your table. You’ve been assigned the task of workshopping your classmates’ portfolios as the semester crawls to a close, and today you’re meant to sit around and talk through your notes with each other.

“I want to go first,” you say immediately. “Gloria, you are out of your mind.”

Gloria beams, knowing exactly what you’re referring to.

“Catch me up?” the third girl, Sharmin, asks.

“Gloria’s entire portfolio is in iambic pentameter,” you tell her dryly. “Honestly, Gloria, I’ve got to know why.”

Gloria giggles. “Okay, okay - it really was just for the challenge. Like, it’s super great that poetry is all no rules but sometimes the challenge of saying what you’re trying to say within the framework of existing rules is… kind of fun?”

“I shall call you The Bard. Or maybe Bardess,” you joke.

The three of you move on to discuss the actual content of Gloria’s portfolio and then Sharmin’s - asking questions, noting lines you really liked, pointing out patterns and themes and hedging guesses on their meanings.

Finally, it’s your turn.

“Your voice is really sharp,” Sharmin compliments you. “I mean… maybe I don’t mean sharp. Clear? Crisp? Something like that.”

“I thought so too,” Gloria agrees. She pulls up a document on her laptop, referring to some notes she took. “I also noticed - and really liked - that while your topics were all different from each other, you had this recurring theme of life and death.”

You stare at her blankly. “I do?”

She gives you a sideways smile; it’s not uncommon for you two to pick things up in each other’s writing that you hadn’t noticed.

“Sure,” she says, and her finger goes to her screen as she reads a few examples, “Who would try to fight the tide, / the dark, the depth, the chill? That’s from your first one.

“Then, the second one: On Sundays I leave stones / atop marble markers to memorialize / those that you and I chose / to leave unturned. That whole entire poem is about a graveyard, so, yeah.”

“Oh! And your latest one!” Sharmin adds. “Where you’re, like, growing bones in your chest?”

You cover your face. “It sounds so dumb like that.”

But even as you’re speaking, other lines spring into your head:

Autumn leaves me hollow.

but my feet itch and beg to go, / into the night where the wolfpack hunts, / into the storm of wind and snow.

Nothing grows here that isn’t dead.

Gloria’s right. You do have a recurring theme about death.

You hadn’t realized. You hadn’t known you were weaving this single thread through everything you put to paper.

What you did know, the part you were aware of was that every one of those poems was about Taehyung.

You press your fingers over your mouth and take a slow, steadying breath. Somehow, everything hurts. It feels like you’re coming apart. It feels like your sutures have been cut too soon as you wrestle with this truth laid out for you:

Every metaphor you ever wrote with Taehyung in mind was somehow connected to death.

Like something inside you knew, long before you did, that whatever was between you was dead before it started.

Like something inside you knew that no matter how many words you devoted to him, you could never breathe life into it.

Like something in you knew the situation had a failure to thrive from the very beginning.

“And life?” you finally manage to ask through your fingers. But you already know every line you wrote about what comes next, about moving forward, about better possibilities.

If autumn can’t make me happy, / I wonder if winter might.

I know despite the dangers, / I can’t afford to stay inside.

This one, they say, will live.

And, most recently - that the girls hadn’t even seen, in my life, you’re everything good.

You didn’t need someone to point these lines out to you. You knew exactly what you’d been writing about - Namjoon, and the way his very presence seemed to represent the promise of something better.

–

You hustle home after class, walking so fast that you actually get your heart-rate up. Inside, you drop your bag on the ground and call Namjoon’s name, crossing the living room.

“Yeah?” he calls back, turning at his desk, but you’ve already entered his room, approaching him at a clip.

He’s got about a hundredth of a second to look surprised before you’re kissing him, hands coming up to cup his face firmly. He leans up to meet you, grunting with happy surprise, his hands coming to rest on your forearms.

When you break away, he smiles at you quizzically. “What was that for?”

You shake your head, indicating that you know your reasons are silly. “Because I wanted to,” you tell him truthfully. “Because I like you, and I missed you today, and….”

And you’re everything good.

“And I’m just… happy to be with you,” you finish lamely, nibbling with your bottom lip, a nervous habit.

He slides one hand down your arm and takes your hand. His smile softens from something teasing into something sweet, those dimples winking at you.

“Well,” he says, looking up at you, “speaking of how much you like me… you don’t have class on Friday, right? What about work?”

Friday is a day off at the university - some kind of training day for staff.

“Nope,” you say. “Kris is on, not me. Why, what’s happening?”

Namjoon’s hand goes to the back of his neck. “I, uh,” he says, a little bashfully, “I wanted to take you out. Like, for the day. On a date. I had some ideas.”

You press your lips together, trying to fight back the smile that’s breaking across your face.

“Yeah,” you say, your voice coming out small. “That sounds really nice. On Friday?”

“Mhm,” he says, his smile growing cockier now that you’ve said yes. “Wear comfortable shoes. And something warm - it’s supposed to snow a little.”

You’re still practically fighting the pleased smile off your face with a broom. “Okay, I will,” you tell him. You feel like you need to get out of there so you can squeal and hop around and maybe text Kris. “I’m gonna go change. Come hang out if you want?”

You tap his wall twice in goodbye and head to your room, closing the door while you change into sweatpants and a hoodie. You’re aware that he’s seen you naked now, but it still feels necessary. You text Kris as you change, and they send you back a row of exclamation points and a “#TeamDimples!”. You send them back an eye-roll and head to the living room couch.

–

[5:22 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: i’m going into the city friday to do some holiday shopping [5:22 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: you in? [5:23 PM] You: i have plans already :( i’m sorry [5:25 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: we could come back early [5:26 PM] You: my thing’s all day :( [5:29 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: ok [5:30 PM] You: sorry tete :( [5:34 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: it’s fine. dinner tonight? [5:35 PM] You: only if i dont have to walk my ass back to campus… [5:37 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: youre such a complainer 🙄 [5:37 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: i’ll pick you up

You chew on your pinky nail, staring at your phone screen. Do you need to see if Namjoon has dinner plans? Do you need his permission to go eat with Taehyung?

You don’t know the rules to this middle-ground you’re in.

But in light of everything you figured out today, you err on the safe side.

Namjoon’s in the kitchen, opening a beer by the sound of it. When he wanders back through the living room, you catch his eye.

“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately. You must look worried.

“Is it… um… Taehyung wants to grab dinner on campus. Are you - can - ?”

Understanding dawns on Namjoon’s face, and he comes over, sitting on the couch next to you and setting his beer on the coffee table.

“You don’t need to ask me before you spend time with your friends,” he says seriously. “Even that friend. You said you’re in this… so, I trust you.”

It’s such a simple thing, but it almost chokes you up. “Okay,” you whisper, so your voice won’t break. “And you’ll be okay? You can order or something?”

“I fed myself for years before we lived together,” he reminds you gently.

“Yeah, okay,” you say, feeling a little foolish. “So, I’ll see you after dinner?”

He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll be here,” he promises.

–

At dinner, surrounded by noisy groups of other students, you and Taehyung each pick at your plates, chatting in between bites.

Finally, as you scrape some sauce absently around your plate, he shoots you a baleful look. “I’ve really missed you lately,” he says, voice low.

Your stomach sinks. “I’ve been here, Taehyung,” you protest. “I didn’t go anywhere.”

“I know,” he says. “I know that. It just feels like we don’t talk as much anymore.”

You twist your lips to the side. There’s truth to what he’s saying, and you know it.

“If you want to talk to me, talk to me,” you insist. “Nothing’s different.”

He looks at you flatly. “You know that isn’t true.”

“I love you, Tete,” you tell him, and it’s the first time you’ve said it to him without feeling like you’re hiding layers, slipping secrets between the vowels. “I’m right here. I promise.”

He purses his lips, looks away from you. “What’s new with you?” he asks, finally. He must have been thinking about how little he’s asked you that, over the past few months, how happy he was to let you exist just outside his orbit. “Have you heard from Lin lately?”

You fill him in on what you can - Lin, Kris and the bookstore, even finally telling him a bit about your thesis work on St. Vincent Millay’s anthology. He tells you about a fight he had with Jimin, about how he almost failed a required biology class this semester, how his mom had the flu last week but is doing better now.

He doesn’t mention dating, so neither do you.

The guilt eats at you all night long, even after you’ve gone to bed. You lay in the dark, your stomach hurting with it.

You’re not sure if you feel bad because you and Taehyung aren’t supposed to keep secrets, or if it’s because you know you’ve done Namjoon wrong by keeping quiet.

Both, you decide sometime around two in the morning. You text Namjoon, “are you asleep?” He answers almost immediately, “almost. you ok?”

You brace yourself and send, “can i come over there?”

When he sends back, “please do” you grab your phone charger and make your way across the dark living room, lit only by the streetlights outside. You make your way into Namjoon’s room, into his bed, into his embrace. You fall asleep between his arms, feeling entirely like the least deserving person alive.

Friday December 7th

You follow Namjoon’s directions on Friday, wearing something warm, and sneakers. But when you head for the kitchen in the morning - he’d told you to be ready early - there’s no Namjoon in sight.

“Namjoon?” you call through the quiet apartment. “Hello?”

There’s no answer. You pull out your phone, ready to text him, when you hear footsteps and then the jangle of keys outside the front door.

Namjoon comes in sideways, shouldering the door open, a tray with two coffees in his hand.

“I tried to get back before you were up,” he says sheepishly.

“We have coffee here,” you say in answer, trying to catch up to whatever is going on.

He gives you a mischievous smile. “We have a train to catch. We needed them to be to-go. You ready?”

It’s cold out; you’re immediately glad for your big puffy coat and the scarf around your neck. You walk with your hot coffee in one hand and Namjoon’s hand in your other. The walk to the train station is only minutes, and soon you’re standing on the platform, peering in the direction that the train should come in from. When the wind picks up, you scoot closer to Namjoon, scavenging for body heat. He smiles down at you and gives your hand a squeeze.

When the train rushes in and the doors slide open, Namjoon lets you go first as you step out of the cold and head down the corridor, looking for two empty seats. You find one in the second car you walk through, and you slide over to the window seat. You both settle in, rearranging heavy coats and coffee cups.

“How long are we on for?” you ask Namjoon. He’s refused to tell you anything about the day, wanting it to all be a surprise.

“Around half an hour,” he tells you, and offers you an earpod. Quiet beats fill your ear as the train starts to move, buildings rushing past faster and faster until they give way to the browns and greens of less urban areas.

Namjoon taps your thigh when your stop comes, and you slide out and follow him towards the doors and back into the sharp, December air.

“Where are we?” you ask, as the train pulls away. Namjoon waves a hand at the train station’s sign, which reads the name of a quiet town west of your university. You’ve never been here before, but you know of it.

Namjoon leads you by the hand away from the train station and towards town. You spend the morning ducking in and out of little niche shops, a few art galleries, and one extremely cluttered antique store just for the hell of it. You talk the whole time - pointing out funny items, telling stories when something sparks a memory, joking and laughing quietly.

Around lunchtime, you stop on the sidewalk. Snow flurries drift down around you; not enough to stick, just enough to get caught in hair and eyelashes.

“What do you feel like eating?” he asks you, blowing on his fingers to warm them. “There are actually a lot of decent options along here.”

“Somewhere warm,” you joke, and he gives you an indulgent smile. Then he wraps an arm around your shoulders as you continue up the street, reading a few menus until you settle on a little cafe. You share a hot meal, watching the snow fall lazily outside.

“What else do you have planned?” you ask curiously, as you finish up eating.

“One more stop,” he says. “It’s the piece de resistance of the day.”

“Ooh,” you say, eyes wide. “Can’t wait.”

Namjoon pays and you zip yourselves back into your coats, heading back into the snow. He leads you, to your surprise, off the main strip and down a narrow side-street. A weathered sign swings in the winter wind, the paint so chipped and peeled that you can’t read it anymore.

He pulls the door open and holds it for you as you step through the threshold of the most beautiful antique bookstore you’ve ever seen.

“Oh, my gosh,” you whisper, reverent, eyes scanning the walls of shelves, the tables, the stuffed armchairs.

“I know you love books as much as I do,” Namjoon’s low voice says, close to your ear. “I wasn’t sure if you love old books as much as I do.”

“I do,” you breathe, running a hand just above the covers of the displayed novels to your right.

You walk together through the display tables, deeper into the belly of the shop. The register is currently unmanned, a little bell on the counter meant to summon whoever operates it.

“I have an idea,” you say to Namjoon, looking over your shoulder to smile up at him. “Let’s play a game?”

One of his eyebrows jumps. “What kind of game?”

A giggle erupts from you, and you try to stifle it. “Not that kind. Let’s shop alone. I’ll pick out three for you, you pick out three for me. Then we can meet back here in… twenty minutes? Or so? Then we can swap.”

Namjoon’s smile is open and wide, practically taking up his whole face. “I like it. Twenty minutes? I’ll set a timer on my phone.”

You go in separate directions as you browse. At one point you have six books in your arms, and you stop and set them down, examining their spines for which you should keep and which you should put back. The smell of old pages permeates the air, along with something Christmas-y - pine, maybe a touch of peppermint. You make your way further into the store, climbing a set of open, metal stairs that lead to a balcony of sorts, with more shelves at the top.

You can see Namjoon down below, crouching next to a shelf, his finger tracing the spines of the books on the bottom shelf, clearly looking for something specific. You smile softly, watching him. Then you bustle on to the next section you’re interested in.

When your phone buzzes in your pocket that your twenty minutes are up, you make your way back down to the spot you’d chosen to meet back up. You hold the books behind your back, smiling.

He does the same. “Trade on three?” he asks. “One… two… three!”

You hand him the stack and he hands his books over to you. You can’t help the smile that spreads across your face as you read the titles. You’d both done the same thing without knowing - one fiction, one non-fiction, one poetry.

“I think we spend too much time together,” Namjoon jokes, faking solemnity.

“Agreed,” you say, grinning up at him. “What do you say we buy what we want to buy and go across to that coffee shop to read?” You point out the window, eyeing the coffee shop across the street.

“I like this plan,” he tells you happily, and takes your hand to lead you to the register.

The coffee shop is a good choice - it’s got a fireplace on one wall, and you and Namjoon manage to score a small table not too far from the circle of warmth. Just as he had on the train, he hands you an earpod, and you spend several hours easily - chatting some, reading, watching the snow out the window.

You haven’t felt this at peace, this understood by somebody, perhaps ever in your life.

It gets dark early, making it feel late at night when it’s still early evening. Namjoon holds you close as you walk back down main street, back in the direction of the train station. Halfway down the block he stops, looking down at you, something warm in his gaze.

“What?” you ask. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

He doesn’t answer, just leans down to kiss you sweetly, his thumb stroking your jaw whisper-soft.

You’re sleepy the second you sit down on the train. You lean against Namjoon’s shoulder, eyes heavy. You’re not sure if you actually drift off or not, when Namjoon gasps beside you.

“What?” you ask, sitting back up. He looks back at you, eyes wide, clearly horrified. “What? What happened?”

“I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, eyes flashing to his phone and then back to you. The panic in his voice is evident. “Y/N, I’m so sorry.”

“What happened?” you repeat, feeling your own nerves start to tingle.

“I texted the wrong group chat…” he says quietly, still sounding horrified. “Fuck, I’m so fucking stupid. I’m so sorry. I thought it was the one with only Yoongi and Hobi…”

He turns his screen to show you. The groupchat is clearly the one with all the guys, the bubbles at the top numerous.

[6:02 PM] Hoseok: Namjoon you’ve been quiet all day

[6:03 PM] Hoseok: what’s the story?

[6:05 PM] Namjoon: took y/n on a date today to that antique bookstore 😊

[6:09 PM] Seokjin: wait….. taehyung’s y/n?

[6:09 PM] Jungkook: OOP-

Your stomach sinks. “Oh, my god,” you say, eyes on his phone screen.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats, sounding pained.

“No, it’s okay,” you say automatically, even though it probably isn’t. You take a deep breath, rub a hand over your face. “He was going to find out eventually. And, honestly, I didn’t want it to be a secret forever, you know? This isn’t… this is real, it’s not a stupid friends-with-benefits thing, it deserves to… be.”

You trail off, not sure what you mean, but Namjoon leans forward, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you close.

“I’m still sorry,” he murmurs into your hair.

“It’s okay,” you tell him. “It really is.”

On your lap, your phone buzzes.

[6:12 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: wow.

Sunday December 9th

You try for two days to get Taehyung to answer you. He ignores text after text, call after call.

On the first day, you feel terrible. You’re sure he’s feeling betrayed, confused, hurt.

By the second day, you’re pissed.

[9:57 PM] You: taehyung, please talk to me

[11:08 PM] You: tete. please?

[12:33 AM] You: seriously, can you answer?

[9:41 AM] You: morning. Can we talk today please?

[2:12 PM] You: the silent treatment’s getting old. Pick up.

[5:57 PM] You: i’d LIKE to apologize to you in person but its kind of hard when you’re ignoring me!!!

[8:49 PM] You: fine, i’ll do it this way [8:54 PM] You: i’m sorry i didn’t tell you. I’m sorry you found out that way. [8:56 PM] You: for what it’s worth, we aren’t like…… officially official or anything [8:57 PM] You: it’s been heading that way, yeah, but…. not yet [8:59 PM] You: i think… telling you would have made it realer, and i didn’t know if it was real enough for that yet [9:03 PM] You: and if i’m being honest… i didn’t know how to tell you

[9:32 PM] Tae Bear 🧸: can i come over

Relief floods through you so heavy that you exhale everything inside you, eyes closing, head sagging towards your chest, the hand holding your phone going limp. Namjoon looks over at you from his side of the couch.

“He answered?” he asks.

“He’s coming over,” you confirm, typing in an answer to Taehyung. “You don’t mind, right? I owe him some answers.”

“No,” he says evenly. “I don’t mind. Do you want me to… I mean, I’m just thinking of when I talked with Elyse. Would me being there… help? Or make it worse?”

You let out a bitter laugh. “It’d help me tremendously,” you admit. “But I think it’d make it worse for him. Thank you, though. I appreciate the thought.”

“Okay,” he says quietly, and reaches out to give your hand a squeeze. “Well, you know where to find me.”

Outside, the December night is cold, but dry, the air tickling your throat on its way to and from your lungs.

“Listen,” you say softly. You and Taehyung are sitting side by side, a foot apart, on the stairs in front of your apartment. The stone step feels like a slab of absolute ice underneath you, but you can’t care about that right now. “I’m sorry it happened like this. I was trying… I was trying not to let anything change between us.”

Taehyung doesn’t answer, just stares at the road. From the side, you can see the tightness in his face, the clench of his jaw, the movement of his throat as he swallows. You’ve known him almost your whole life. You can read him like a book.

He’s hurting.

He’s trying to pretend he’s not.

“I mean,” you continue, your heart aching, “you never tell me about your girls.”

“That’s different,” he croaks.

“How?” you ask softly. “How is this different?”

“I wasn’t actually dating any of them,” he says.

It’s not the whole reason, and you both know it.

“So, what is this?” he asks. “Is he your boyfriend now?” He positively sneers the word.

This stops you. You don’t know how to answer. Technically, no. But essentially… yes. You just hadn’t talked it through yet. “He… I…”

Taehyung stands suddenly, shoves his hands in his pockets, paces to the curb and back. “Well?” he demands, facing you. The hurt is practically dropping from him, and you’re reeling to fight the instinct to make it better, reeling trying to determine at lightning speed if you’ve actually done something wrong.

“Not technically,” you whisper.

He stands there, surrounded by the dark, staring you down, his face more serious than you’ve ever seen it. You stand too, taking a few steps to stop before him.

“What does this mean for us?” Taehyung asks. His voice breaks on ‘us’. “What are we now?”

You reach out, fingers skimming along his arm, wanting to comfort. “Taehyung, it doesn’t mean anything for us. We’ll be the same as we’ve always been.”

You watch it cross his face as he decides to make you prove it, but you don’t have enough time to react before he’s doing the thing you’d day-dreamed of time after time after time - before you knew Namjoon. He’s closing the gap between you, his hand curling in the fabric of your jacket, his lips finding yours, searching for something that three months ago he probably would have found.

–

Upstairs, Namjoon can’t let go of the uneasy feeling in his stomach. He can’t get that day with Elyse out of his head - how his eyes had found yours and he’d felt steady, had literally felt the fist of anxiety loosen on his lungs. What if you needed him out there? Finally, he can’t take it anymore. He crosses the living room and peeks out the window, just to gauge how it’s going - he’s sure he can read your expression or your body language enough to tell if you’re okay or not.

He leans over, looking out, and the blood in his arms and legs turns in an instant to ice.

Outside on the sidewalk, you’re kissing Taehyung. His dark hair hangs over your face, where one of his hands rests. Your bodies are impossibly close together, seeming to meld into one in the shadows.

He stumbles away from the window, trying to get away from it, but the image burns in his brain. He makes his way blindly back towards his bedroom. His heart pounds, and he finds himself nauseous, his eyes suddenly burning like he’s walked through smoke.

“Fuck,” he hisses, punching his doorframe. Then he slams his door shut, and locks it for good measure.

He should’ve known, he thinks. He should’ve seen this coming from day one.

Elyse had made him feel stupid, yeah.

But it was nothing like this.

<- Prev || Next ->

I'M GOING INTO HIDING BYE!!!!!!! <3

love y'all thanks for reading!!!

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nightswatchdisbandmentera · 11 months

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PSA: Lyanna Stark was NOT a hypocrite

It’s a little annoying how often ASOIAF fans will misread and purposefully misinterpret Lyanna’s thoughts about Robert’s true nature, as a way to prove that she’s hypocritical (while also absolving Robert from all his faults as a husband/lover).

First, let’s look at that conversation again, shall we?

“Robert will never keep to one bed,” Lyanna had told him at Winterfell, on the night long ago when their father had promised her hand to the young Lord of Storm’s End. “I hear he has gotten a child on some girl in the Vale.” Ned had held the babe in his arms; he could scarcely deny her, nor would he lie to his sister, but he had assured her that what Robert did before their betrothal was of no matter, that he was a good man and true who would love her with all his heart. Lyanna had only smiled. “Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature.”

And we must consider the larger context:

The girl had been so young Ned had not dared to ask her age. No doubt she’d been a virgin; the better brothels could always find a virgin, if the purse was fat enough. She had light red hair and a powdering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, and when she slipped free a breast to give her nipple to the babe, he saw that her bosom was freckled as well. “I named her Barra,” she said as the child nursed. “She looks so like him, does she not, milord? She has his nose, and his hair …”

“She does.” Eddard Stark had touched the baby’s fine, dark hair. It flowed through his fingers like black silk. Robert’s firstborn had had the same fine hair, he seemed to recall.

“Tell him that when you see him, milord, as it … as it please you. Tell him how beautiful she is.”

“I will,” Ned had promised her. That was his curse. Robert would swear undying love and forget them before evenfall, but Ned Stark kept his vows. He thought of the promises he’d made Lyanna as she lay dying, and the price he’d paid to keep them.

- Eddard IX, AGOT

Ned recalls his conversation with Lya as he returns from visiting one of Robert’s bastards. He has just made a promise to tell Robert about the babe and laments that he is a man who honors and keeps his vows. When me promises to do something, he will go through with it.

Furthermore, this scene is framed within the context of Robert being a liar. He will swear one thing and then immediately perform actions that directly contradict whatever oaths he has made. Robert would say that he loves Lyanna and would remain faithful to her, and only her, but then would immediately go an and betray her trust.

That’s what Lyanna is talking about in her conversation with Ned. She’s not condemning Robert for fathering a bastard. She’s condemning him for fathering a bastard all while he swears oaths of love and loyalty to her. Because Ned tells her that Robert loves her and only her, that he’s sworn to be faithful to her alone. Yet Lyanna goes, “are you sure about that, dear brother?” Because why would he swear loyalty to her then turn around and do the exact opposite of that loyalty, which is laying with another woman and fathering a child on her?

As much as Lyanna has the right to call out her betrothed’s promiscuity, she’s really not doing that here. She’s using his promiscuity to call out his lying and unreliable nature. Robert may love her, but he will not honor that love and stay true to her. That’s literally what she means by saying

“Love is sweet, dearest Ned, but it cannot change a man’s nature.”

Simple as that.

Also, notice how the topic of oaths and vows comes into play. This conversation undoubtedly brings into mind the concept of knighthood and the chivalric code. Robert has, from the very beginning, been a deconstruction of the knightly ideal. He’s a knight who fought a battle against the (not so) evil dragon/prince and won, but he was ultimately without honor and became a bad king. He’s the same knight who vowed to rescue his maiden (Lyanna) but was also unfaithful to her. This is a deconstruction of the chivalric tale. We’re meant to think that Robert, NOT Lyanna, is the hypocrite here. Robert is just another one of GRRM’s failed knights in ASOIAF; remember that before he was a king, Robert was a Ser.

And if we really want to bring Rhaegar into this, I’m afraid that we cannot call him a hypocrite for fathering a child on Lyanna.

He wondered if Rhaegar had frequented brothels; somehow he thought not.

The text directly contradicts the idea that Robert and Rhaegar are similar. Ned himself, who has a close personal relationship with Robert, acknowledges this. And going back to the point about the deconstruction of chivalry, Rhaegar is a knight as well. His elopement with Lyanna directly plays into the chivalric performance of a knight kidnapping an innocent young maiden. It’s a tale as old as time, literally. But this is not a clear cut case of Rhaegar being the evil knight (or the evil dragon, as some of our fantasy tales might have it) because the text goes to great lengths to paint him as the opposite of Robert.

Rhaegar did not swear vows of love and loyalty to Lyanna and then break them (as far as we know). While he was married to Elia and was fond of her, as per Barrtistan, there is no indication in the text that he personally vowed to love her above all before he ultimately absconded with Lyanna. So, Lyanna running off with Rhaegar instead of marrying Robert does not make her actions hypocritical. There’s really no reason to read this passage that way. At all.

So TL,DR:

STOP calling Lyanna a hypocrite because of this one conversation. That’s literally not supported within the text at all. Lyanna is not objecting to Robert fathering a bastard. Rather, she’s objecting too him fathering a bastard all while he tells her father and brothers that he wishes to marry her, love her, and be faithful to her.

STOP trying to compare Robert and Rhaegar through this lens - that Rhaegar and Lyanna are hypocrites. The text directly contradicts that idea. Robert is the hypoactive and the liar, NOT Lyanna or Rhaegar.

It’s that simple. No need to overcomplicate things.

I’m not entirely sure why this passage has been misinterpreted for so long but here we are…

#asoiaf #lyanna stark #rhaegar targaryen #r plus l equals j #robert baratheon #valyrianscrolls #I’m looking at you Reddit #Y’all continue to have absolute dog💩 reading comprehension #my stuff

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poisonheadcrabsalesman · 3 months

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Between You and Me

A prompt from @bloodgulchblog for the phrase "Between you and me, Big guy's a little shy." Very much inspired by this art from reddit user InvalidMedia - check it out.

If he closed his eyes, he could inhale the morning air and listen to the trill of insects and imagine he's home. He remembers the air of Charybdis IX away from Scyllion and other loud mining towns, full of life. Down from the wharf and up the river where the water made the air damp and the vegetation softened the sound of progress. Zeta Halo's air clings to him now. A second skin, or really a third, since he feels covered in dirt, sweat, and who knows what else.

There's no sound of a river. Only the slow flowing water swirling in the retention pond before him and a handful of other marines. Too perfect to be natural. Too clear to pass up. It was a bathing day. Some stood guard while those who drew the first straws bathed in the cool morning mist. He'd have preferred to have gone later or maybe in the midday sun when it wasn't so cold. But beggars can't be choosers, a little bracing water is good for the body.

And it would help with any stray thoughts about Chief as one of their lookouts. There wasn't anything going on between them except Fernando's twisted hope that he was worth caring about Chief and that Chief would learn to care about himself. It didn't matter now. It wasn't the time.

He wasn't the only Spartan on duty, but he drew the most eyes. Fernando almost wanted to laugh. He'd never bathed under armed guard before.

He stripped quickly a few feet from the shore and made his way into the water with little complaint. He couldn't help the hiss at the cold but he dunked himself under the surface quickly and came up with his teeth chattering. A quick bath then.

Scrubbing himself with a rag from his supplies and some sand from the shore made him reminisce about camping. They had to make do. He tried not to wrinkle his nose in disgust as the water turned filthy around him. Others were having the same issue, if the loud calls and splashing were anything to go by. He scratched at his beard and waded a little further in to dunk himself in a cleaner spot.

He wasn't expecting slippery metal beneath the silt and a sudden drop. He sank beneath the surface with a yelp and flailed back up clumsily. Just in time to notice the attention he attracted.

Chief was already past the shoreline and moving towards him when Fernando resurfaced and cleared his airways.

The cool water did nothing to stop the color in his cheeks as Chief nodded at him and returned to his post.

Some other crew swam up to check on him as well and he tried waving them off, but to no avail.

"Chief's got his eye on you. Thought he was going dive in after you went down." One marine said, grinning goodnaturedly.

"I'd hope he'd take the armor off first." Another marine shot back.

"You're his pilot, right?"

"His pilot?"

"Yeah! One he calls in and brings us vehicles. You're that guy."

"Uh, yeah. That's me!" He chuckles nervously. He's incredibly aware of how he must look like a drowned rat.

"You must know him pretty well."

"I-I mean. He saved me? But he does that for everyone."

"Come on guys, leave the pilot alone. We got a few minutes left before we're out and some of you look as bad as you did before getting in."

That gets the small crowd to disperse and Fernando breathes a sigh of relief. Until he realizes there's one last hanger-on. It's some young ensign type, barely had any weapons training before it all went to hell.

"What's he like?" He nods to Chief and Fernando's heart speeds up. "He hovers around you. It's kind of funny watching marines follow him when he's always following you."

Fernando swallows. "Between you and me? Big guy's a little shy."

The ensign nods solemnly like he's being trusted with top secret info. And maybe in a way he is.

He swims off to trail after his buddies and leaves Fernando still thinking about his words. Chief stayed. He always comes back, or checks in. Even when Fernando doesn't think he's worth it.

#my writing #Halo fanfic #Echo 216 #John 117 #chiefpilot #Halo Infinite

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visibleclosedeyes · 8 months

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✧ᴀ ᴛʜᴏᴜꜱᴀɴᴅ ʏᴇᴀʀ ᴠᴏʏᴀɢᴇ ᴜɴᴅᴇʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡɪꜱᴅᴏᴍ ᴏꜰ ᴀʙꜱᴏʟᴜᴛᴇ ɴɪʜɪʟɪᴛʏ✧

IX x reader

1k words Ao3 version here

To repeat how and why you ended up in this position would be like trying to recant the story of several centuries of here and there, so at some point, you just let it go—let the words you had once told centuries ago washed away into the ever-flowing stream of the intergalactic void.

But as an emanator of the Nihility —perhaps this suits you best.

Today and yesterday and tomorrow and last year and a century have been blended together like an ever-growing vortex of void—at some point, nothing really matters that much, including your life story. Perhaps this is how IX feels, all the time. Maybe they were a breathtakingly beautiful creature that rivaled that of the Aeon of beauty and the abundance Yaoshi—but then they had touched the darkness that is the pit of this universe, and—and now they lost all those faces because it hardly ever mattered which form they took.

You understood you thought—as you have touched nihilism too. Or, to be accurate, IX has gazed upon you. Only those with an unrestrained arrogance dare to compare their plight to those with Aeonic status. But you thought, at the very least, you get a fraction of how they felt.

“Big or small, all things are touched by the same bottomless meaningless vortex,” Aeon of Nihility told you once, a fraction of truth is still truth nonetheless.

“Why are you planting seeds into the ground?” IX asked. Although their voice was low and acoustic; bouncing all over this fabricated dimension used for holding IX themselves when they went to sleep, you can feel the genuine curiosity behind those blob eyes of theirs.

“ Someone has said to me once that beautiful flowers help people get into a better mood,”

“ Maybe for mortals, but those tricks don't work on us who knows,” IX said. Even with a rather distant and monotone, there is a hint of somewhat concern.

“I know,” you said—your voice, too, was bouncing off the metaphorical wall. It created the signature acoustic sounds that, as you remember, were once disorienting when you first arrived here. Now? It would have been weird to not hear a slight echo in your or their voice.

You kneeled, the gray and tender sand soil you have gathered in your palm felt cold. It shines against the soft light emitting from the other side where IX was crawling opposing it. The light existed alongside the nihility, belonging to the Doctor of Chaos. “—You don’t have to be too worried. This is mostly for them,” when you continued speaking, the sand was allowed to slide past your hand—it flowed down, but immediately dissolved mid-air into nothingness.

“All things that exist would come to its conclusion. And all things exist for one single purpose; to exist, to continue to exist, and then struggle for that existence—against the unknown, against the others. Only when they no longer could stomach this any longer, shall they perish—left nothing behind,” the Nihility said, Their tone was rather melodic despite the absolutely horrifying speech they have given to you. Yet, it didn’t shake you. Perhaps, being their emanator has some interesting and useful additional benefits.

“I understand, and you are right more than wrong. Still, I plant this for them,”

“ If I am right, then who else is them ?”

“ Those who will walk this path, the same path that I did, and those who will receive that gaze of yours,” you said with an amused yet exhausted smile on your face.

“ No, no. There will be no others. You are selected, but there will be no more others. You are my first and the last emanator,” IX burst out—a rather strange demeanor from those who hold the status of an Aeon; but then again—we don’t really know all that much about Aeon after all. They almost sound anxious—almost but you just burst out laughing.

“Are…you laughing? At an Aeon..?”

“Who else would I be laughing at?”

“…why?” The aeon exclaimed with a voice filled with a hint of annoyance. You inhaled—trying your best to suppress the laugh that seemed to be indefinitely pouring out.

“You are wrong about most things, you were wrong then before you gazed upon me, and you’re wrong now that you assumed you won’t gaze at anyone again,” you said. Most of the dirt in your palm was already gone. Turn around to face your Aeon who, to best describe it—seems to be in absolute shock. Mortals or immortals with less significance do not challenge Aeon, and if they do it will be done not in such a flippancy like this. IX has faced hostility by mortals before by the name of ‘annihilation gangs’, it was…something for several seconds…and then they were nothing, swallowed whole by the crushing weight of nothingness. But—you are special, IX recognized that genes the Aeon’s gaze that craved a mental scar of nihility into your mind. Yet, uniqueness does not exempt you from absolute nothingness. In time, you will perish, and the millions of steps you have to take to be at this point will quickly be washed away by the current of time…and the ever-looming, uncaring silence of the universe. Like the dirt that no longer sits among your fingers, your life will soon slip from the grasp of the Aeon.

And yet—yet, this fact did not dim your light, not one bit. You know full well of the approaching darkness at all of the universe’s corridors—they have let you see it yourself. Still, you have insisted on the very same stand you have held before. Despite not chasing foolishly trying to create artificial meaning to life and the universe—you have understood and even believed the same thing IX believed, you have chosen to face such issues with a totally opposite reaction they have expected.

You faced your Aeon now, the metaphorical barren land of gray and emptiness was now occupied by blooming bio-fluorescent white flowers. It shines bright, but not too bright where it hurts—but bright enough to stand firm against the blackest of black sky that enveloped the garden and both entities facing each other.

“Before you crowned me as your emanator, you had none before. You don't believe in bestowing your ‘blessings’ upon anyone—you have seen no point in it, and you believed no beings could tolerate such nihilistic gaze anyway. Then you gazed at me, I suffered from you and I survived, and I got better. You said, in the face of looming darkness, I will understand and change my way—and I have not changed, before or after,”

IX looked straight into the eyes of their emanator and thought— why is she so difficult? But perhaps that is why she interests me…

“You are unbelievable, breathtakingly chaotic,” IX said with exasperation but their gaze was soft, as soft as a freshly cleaned wool. Something rather surprising coming from the Aeon represents coldness and emptiness.

“Now stop bothering me, I want to sleep…” With that, IX closed their eyes—essentially turning themselves into a mass of darkening black hole that seems to suck away all the life force surrounding it. This made-up space for you and them has dimmed its light, the world was asleep now as both you and the garden of light fell into the dark. You sat down, in an environment with minimal light, and closed your eyes too—drifting into a state of inactivity like your Aeon. Still, you and the garden emit soft light like a nightlight for the Aeon to anchor on. IX didn’t need it, and yet… you wanted to do it.

This place should be hell for any other, but for you—you felt comforted by the presence of the Nihility. It’s true that you were now in the darkness swallow but this darkness itself soothed you—just like the Nihility has too. Tomorrow, there will be work to do; but now you just want to rest beside your aeon. Basking silently in each other comfort.

#hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail x you #aeon x reader #hsr aeons #aeon IX #hsr IX #IX x reader #honkai star rail

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on-my-vigilante-sht · 1 year

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Capitol Punishment VIII

Haymitch x Reader

Summary: The Capitol continues to torture it’s victors no matter how long ago they won through punishment, exploitation, and worst of all; their relationships.

A story in which Haymitch’s lover is a plaything for the Capitol.

Warnings: Canon level violence, rape (though never explicit), alcohol, murder, systemic poverty, exploitation, rebellion (?), more reliance on movie than book, suicidal thoughts, swearing, illness, pregnancy, miscarriage

Word Count: 4.4K (she’s also kind of long)

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

You laid on the cold, steel table of one of the styling rooms. They had stripped all the hair beneath your eyebrows, which was no longer very painful since you’d been “maintained” ever since you won 8 years ago. They had also taken care to clean you in scalding hot water and scrub your skin raw. They cut the dead ends of your hair off, keeping it long enough to reach mid back. You were sure Haymitch started fighting them as soon as he saw any kind of razor, tweezer, or wax.

Now you were just waiting for the doctors to come back with the results from your checkup. You had told them that they suspected you were pregnant and asked if there was any way that they’d be able to do a paternity test. They told you that if the father’s DNA was in their system they could tell you and that all tributes’ DNA was logged.

As the door slid open, you sat up eagerly. “Ms. L/N, you are in fact pregnant,” the nurse informed. “About six weeks along.”

“And the father?” you asked.

“Haymitch Abernathy,” she said plainly. You were sure Snow would be upset that you were pregnant with your husband’s baby but now that he was putting you in the games, you didn’t give a damn what he thought or wanted. You were also incredibly relieved it was Haymitch’s. You were never a kids person and had never wanted to have children but if you were going to have someone’s baby, it may as well be the man you love’s.

The nurse talked with you a little more about your labs, saying you were healthy and left. Next Cinna came in. “There’s my favorite mentor,” he smiled, greeting you with a hug.

“Cinna,” you replied with a smile. While you hand he weren’t nearly as close as Katniss and he were, you had very much come to appreciate his friendly face. “Good to see you.”

“You too, although I wish it was under different circumstances. Anyway here is your dress for the parade,” he turned to the door as the rest of the style team brought in your outfit. You were kind of amazed at how beautiful it was. It was a long, almost flowing, A-line, red dress. The bodice was covered in lace and featured a halter top neckline. They did your makeup dramatically with a dark red lip and a mix of reds and blacks for your eyes. As for your hair it was done in an intricate half-up, half down style. When they finally let you look in the mirror you thought you looked like an evil queen.

You were then brought to the chariots where about half the other victors were waiting. You looked around, observing your friends/future competition. Spotting red hair you realized it was Annie. You called over to her as you approached. She looked terrified until she spotted you.

“Y/N” she ran up to you as best she could in her mermaid-like outfit. She gave you a big hug which you returned.

“Where’s Finnick and Mags?” you asked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. Her scared look appeared again as she looked around frantically for probably the only two people in the world who brought her real comfort. You noticed she was still hugging you. You were probably a stand in for Finnick until he arrived.

“He’s probably still with the stylist. How are you two?”

“We’re good, or were until the games were announced,” she murmured sadly.

“Hey, don’t think about that right now,” you tried to soothe her. She wasn’t much younger than you but she was so small and fragile looking that you felt like you needed to protect her. “And I can guarantee you Finnick won’t let anything happen to you. Neither will I,” you promised. Assuming Haymitch was right about a plan you were telling the truth. You’d fight to get this poor girl out.

“Annie?” you head a familiar voice call from behind you.

Annie immediately pulled away, recognizing Finnick’s voice. You smiled as you watched the two lovers reunite. You were sure that Finnick, like you, didn’t care about Snow’s rules about availability anymore. He was sending you to your death, who cares if the Capitol’s desire to fuck you was still high?

Soon enough the rest of the Victors were at the chariots, all except one. Haymitch.

Cinna was getting Katniss and Peeta ready when he came to you, the very last chariot. He handed you a remote. “Press this when Katniss presses hers. You’ll know when she does.”

“Wait where’s Haymitch?” you asked.

“I don’t know, probably with Portia,” Cinna explained. “I have to go, he’ll be out soon. Just make sure you look straight ahead, no waving.”

The avoxes were all ushering you into the chariots and you were sure they were frantically trying to find your partner because they were all running around. You were starting to actually get scared when the elevator doors suddenly opened, revealing Haymitch and Portia. He rushed to the chariot, pecking you on the cheek as he got in.

“Where were you? You scared me.”

“Sorry, got held up. I need to talk to you after.”

“I need to talk to you too,” you replied just as the chariots started to pull out. You took your husband’s hand, putting on a blank expression as Haymitch did too. The runway was so loud, there were so many people above you cheering. It wasn’t hard to look disinterested, you were disgusted with them for cheering as you were paraded around before you had to fight to the death.

About halfway down the runway Katniss and Peeta burst into flames. You pressed the button on the remote and out of the corner of your eye you could see Haymitch erupt into flames as well. As you approached Snow, you didn’t even bother to look up at him as the chariot rounded the end of the runway, bringing you all the way back inside where you had started.

You finally took in Haymitch’s appearance. They had cleaned up his beard so it was more cleanly cut. His hair had also been trimmed and washed properly. He was in a suit with no sleeves, showing off muscled arms, identical to Peeta’s. Both eager to hear what the other had to say you grabbed Katniss and Peeta and went to the elevators.

Just as the door was closing Johanna Mason stepped into the elevators. “Well don’t you all look amazing,” she snarled. “My stylist is such an idiot. District 7, lumber, so she dressed us as trees.” She let out a scoff as she started taking the cuffs of her costume off. “I’d like to put my axe in her face.” She stepped closer to Peeta. “Help me with the zipper?” she turned around, not allowing him to answer as he awkwardly unzipped her costume.

You and Haymitch were holding in your laughs as Katniss made a face you couldn’t even identify the emotion of.

She thanked him as she stripped off the costume, standing completely naked in the elevator. The doors opened as you reached floor 7. “Let’s do it again sometime,” as she walked out of the elevator, completely shameless.

“Thank you,” Haymitch said.

You slapped his arm playfully. “See you later,” you called after her.

“Johanna Mason, 7, if you hadn’t figured it out yet,” you informed.

“Is she always like that?” Peeta asked.

You shrugged. “I’ve never seen her strip naked before today but yeah, she hasn’t ever cared. When she was here the first time she was screaming profanities all the way down the chariot line.” The doors then opened into the penthouse, you and Haymitch immediately headed towards your bedroom to hear what the other had to say. You both stepped into the bathroom for privacy.

“You go first,” you said, hoping this was about Plutarch.

“I was late because Plutarch came to see me. Y/N I was right. About a fourth of the tributes are in on the plan to get Katniss out. We’re gonna have to carry on like a normal game at first but Beetee is going to shut down the arena and Plutarch will have us extracted.” You could cry you were so relieved. Haymitch was smiling eagerly. “We’re gonna make it, we’re gonna see a world without the games. Just make sure you stay by me so I can protect you, okay?”

“Yeah,” you agreed. “And that news makes what I’m about to tell you better.” You took a deep breath, bracing yourself. “I’m pregnant.”

Haymitch’s eyes widen. “Are you sure? I kind of suspected but didn’t want to say anything.”

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m sure. The doctors tested and they were also able to tell me that you’re the father.”

His eyes widened impossibly more. He gingerly pressed his hand to your still flat stomach. “You’re gonna have my kid?” he looked hopeful, excitement fortunately creeping into his expression.

“Yeah,” you agreed. You felt a few tears of joy slip. “I had never wanted kids but the thought of having yours? I want to raise this baby with you, Haymitch.”

“I felt the same,” he agreed. “This world is too fucked up to have a baby so that’s why we have to change it. God, I didn’t know it was possible to love you more,” he kissed you, his hand still planted on your stomach. You deepened the kiss, your hand meeting his.

That night you laid in bed in comfortable silence, more in love than you had ever felt before. “What should we name it?” Haymitch asked.

You mused for a second. “If it’s a boy, I wanted to name him Asher, after my father. And for a girl I thought about Maysilee?”

Haymitch pressed a kiss to your hairline. “I like that.” He paused again. “Should we tell people?”

“The world expects at least one of us to die in about a week. No point in telling people. Besides I think Peeta would jump off that platform before the timer hit zero if he knew I was pregnant,” you explained monotonously.

“Okay, so we won’t tell anyone,” your husband agreed.

The next day at the training session was fairly intense. All of the victors (except those suffering from withdrawal, insanity, and/or age) were trying to show off how still in shape they were. You spent most of the time observing until you did the hand to hand combat station. There were real trainers who would fight you and fake weapons that could sense what wounds they’d inflict in order to simulate the arena as close as possible.

Feeling like being a little bit of a showoff you decided to do it despite your newfound condition. You had made sure Haymitch wasn’t anywhere nearby as you picked up the fake knife and stepped on the mat. The trainer gave you no warning as he suddenly attacked you, running at you with a sword. Fortunately you were still looking at him the entire time so you could easily dodge at the last second. As his momentum carried him forward, you swung your arm back, hitting him in the shoulder with your knife.

“Non fatal wound to left shoulder,” an automated voice announced.

He whirled around, swiping at you with the sword. As you were dodging you got closer and closer to the edge of the mat.

“Approaching boundary,” the voice informed. So you ducked under the sword, flailing your lugs until you caught his ankle, sending him to the ground. His sword fell which you kicked off the mat. He was up in a second though, lunging at you. Your eyes widened in surprise, trying to move out of the way but he managed to grab your arm, dragging you to the ground. You fell with a thud and before you could wrench your arm from his grip, he was on top of you, straddling your hips. He was grabbing at the knife in your hands which you were trying to keep away. You felt it scrape against both his and your arms, each time eliciting a “Non fatal wound to arm.” Eventually you managed to stab it through his hand as the simulator said, and bring it closer to you before you thrust it into his throat.

“Fatal wound to the neck. Simulation ended,” the voice announced. You looked over, noticing a few other tributes watching from their own training spots. Haymitch, however, was fuming over by the knife section.

“You’re awfully tough,” the trainer said, getting off of you. “Impressive, especially considering you won eight years ago,” he complimented.

“Oh, thank you,” you said, taking his hand to stand up. Now Haymitch was walking over. “I have to go,” you dismissed, meeting up with him. You felt like a kid again as you approached your fuming husband.

“What the hell was that?” he asked. “You could’ve mis-”

“Shh,” you demanded. “And sorry, I wasn’t thinking.”

“You’re damn right you weren’t thinking!”

You were normally a very patient person, especially with Haymitch. You were sympathetic both when he was drunk and sober but you never took yelling, especially after you already apologized. You let out an indignant laugh. “I just apologized and you’re really gonna yell at me? Find me when you calm down,” you scoffed, walking off.

Haymitch was still angry as he watched you walk off. He had been chatting with Chaff when Chaff had told him to turn around. He was horrified to see you fighting with a man about twice your size. But he knew better than to interrupt so all he could do was stew in worry and anger until it was over. He nearly pulled the trainer off you when he got on top of you. Worried both about your safety and his fetus’. By the time it was done he was angry. Angry that you’d risk your pregnancy. He knew he shouldn’t have yelled at you, especially in front of so many people but he was so worried. He was honestly a little scared of how much he wanted that baby.

You made; your way over to Finnick and Annie who were making fish hooks together. She had a soft smile on her face as she weaved the feathers onto the hook while Finnick had a soft smile while looking at her. You really hoped they’d both make it out.

Finnick looked up, having noticed you. “Where’s lover boy?”

“You’re one to talk,” you sneered.

“It have something to do with your little show off session?” he asked.

“I wasn’t showing off. I was training,” you scoffed. “Besides, once again, you’re one to talk.”

“What do you mean? I've been doing this the whole time.”

“Don’t act like you don’t fully intend to get in there with a trident.”

He scoffed, a look of mocking offense painted on his face. “I would never.”

You laughed, taking a spot next to Annie, observing her work. You spent the next half hour learning how to make fish hooks, occasionally glancing up to watch Haymitch. He mostly stuck to the survival stuff but tried some combat and weapons training. It pained you to watch him fumble in those areas. He definitely wasn’t the most unathletic tribute but he was far from the most athletic. And while you had faith in Plutarch’s plan, not every victor was in on it and athleticism was still very much a part of the game.

Eventually Katniss wandered over, making fishhooks with Mags until she migrated to the archery station. As more tributes went over to watch the newest victor in action, you followed too. You had seen Katniss shoot last year but with so many simulated targets at once you were impressed by how good she was. Everyone else was too as Mags clapped for her when she had completed her round.

You eventually headed back upstairs, not really sure what to do. You had done lots of weapons training, especially knife throwing which had been a skill you utilized in your original games. Knives were always guaranteed to be in the Cornucopia and being able to put distance between yourself and others made the most sense. You worked with a few other weapons, Haymitch giving you worried and disapproving looks the entire time. You got so sick of his looks you moved onto survival but got bored of that quickly so you just went upstairs to lay down.

Haymitch appeared in the doorway sometime later. “I’m sorry for yelling at you.”

“Thank you,” you said sitting up. You knew he was coming from a place of love and concern so you were done being mad. Besides, you had been a couple for so long that your arguments could almost always be resolved in a couple sentences.

“Half the tributes want to be our allies. They of course assume we’ll be allies with Katniss. Peeta too but mostly Katniss.”

“Okay well who of the potential allies know about the plan?”

“Wiress and Beetee, Finnick, and by association Mags and Annie,” he answered. “Although Enobaria wants Katniss too but she and none of the other careers know. And a couple others from 5 through 10.”

“Did Katniss say anything?”

“She wants Wiress, Beetee, and Mags. But no Finnick. I told them she’s still considering.”

“What about Johanna, Blight, Chaff, and Seeder? I thought they knew.”

“They do, they just don’t necessarily want to get on Katniss’ crazy train,” he explained, taking a seat on the bed and throwing an arm around your shoulder. “That girl is a piece of work.”

You laughed a little. “She’s not that bad. Yes, a little volatile but so is Johanna and I like her. I like them both,” you added.

Haymitch hummed in agreement. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired but fine. I think everything is fine,” you placed a hand on your stomach. “I’m pretty sure fetuses can take a little knocking around. How would we have survived so long if they couldn’t?”

“Yeah, yeah, just take it easy. No getting punched in the gut,” he chided.

“Aw man, there go my dinner plans,” you jokingly whined.

“Shut up,” he chucked.

The next couple days were largely uneventful. You and Haymitch kept trying to convince Katniss to ally with Finnick or even Johanna but she refused, thinking that they’d stab her and Peeta in the back as soon as the biggest threats were taken out.

Eventually it was finally time for interviews the night before the games. With your permission Cinna tapped into the femme fatale look that had been part of your selling point your first games. It was a satin black dress with gold chains laid across the bodice and forming the straps. It had a high slit that came almost to your hip but your modesty was protected by delicate gold chains that held the top of the slit in place.

Your makeup was done dramatically again. Your red lips had been a part of your look the first games so Cinna had wanted to keep them this year. Your hair was done up in intricate braids with gold weaved through it so as to “not cover up too much of Cinna’s design,” one of the hair stylists told you.

You watched the other interviews as you got ready. You could see through all of them, whether they be extremely calculated or not, they were all a desperate cry to stop the games. Some were subtle like Cashmere and Gloss’ joint interview as “the family of the Capitol.” Johanna’s however, was not at all subtle as she screamed at the crowd and Snow for putting her back into the games. Some just made you outright feel bad for them. Like Annie and Finnick’s joint interview where she clung to his arm, hardly able to get out two words.

Eventually it was your turn. You stood in front of the stage entrance, trying to calm yourself down as Caesar introduced you. “Please welcome the winner of the 67th Hunger Games, Y/N L/N!”

You could hear the crowd erupt into cheers as the doors opened, blinding you. But you stepped out confidently nonetheless, eventually regaining partial sight. “Y/N, stunning as ever, wouldn’t you agree, folks?” Caesar began.

The crowd once again erupted into cheers. “You’re too kind Caesar.”

“I understand you have many sponsors who supported you in your original games and even after,” he explained. You hoped your face didn’t show it but you felt your heart stop. Was he really bringing up your torture in your very public interview? “Let’s hope they’re just as generous this year.”

“Oh I promise them I’ll make it worth their while,” you smirked into the microphone. You’ve been playing this game for a long time. What’s one more night?

“Now I have to ask as the mentor to the lovebirds of 12, is there anyone special in your life?” What kind of questions were these? You gave a polite laugh, shaking your head no. “Oh c’mon, really? With your looks? I find that hard to believe.”

“No not anyone,” you once again denied. “I’ve been on a few dates with some Capitol citizens but nothing serious. I guess eight years after the games still isn’t enough time to get over it.” You left the innocent look on your face.

It was sobering to the audience but Caesar quickly tried to bring the mood up again. “Well I just have a few more questions for you. We’re all very familiar with your protégée’s stylist. Tell me, are you working with Cinna too?”

“I am,” you agreed excitedly, giving them back the Capitol darling they had loved so dearly eight years ago. “No offense to my previous stylist but I think Cinna just gets me more.”

“I agree, this dress and the chariot parade dress suit you very well. And I have to say, you in flames? Breathtaking.”

“Aw thank you,” you smiled. “I’m sure Cinna appreciates it too.”

“Yes and we’re excited to see more of his work soon. Thank you Y/N, it’s been a pleasure. Give it up for Y/N L/N!” The crowd once again gave their cheers as you walked up the stairs, taking your place next to Chaff.

“Our next guest was the winner of the last Quarter Quell. Give it up for Haymitch Abernathy!” You watched as Haymitch approached, only able to see his back from your vantage point. “Haymitch, it’s been too long.”

“Not long enough in this context,” he laughed.

“Ah yes, but wouldn’t it be such an honor to win both Quarter Quells?” Caesar pressed. He probably already knew this would be a difficult interview for the Capitol.

“In theory I suppose. I’m mostly concerned about getting some of the younger victors out though.” The crowd let out cries of sympathy.

“How considerate,” Caesar said solemnly. “And tell us, what was it like to mentor our lovebirds coming up next?”

Haymitch pondered for a second, not quite sure how to answer. He has spent the whole night trying to decide if he’d tell the Capitol about your relationship. “Well I can tell you it wasn’t easy. Katniss can be a little headstrong.”

“Oh well we all know that,” Caesar laughed. “And Peeta?”

“He’s a very kind boy. They’re great together.”

Caesar laughed. “Yes well it’s nice to hear that from someone close to the couple. Now what about you? We’ve already heard from your original protégée about her love life, what about yours? We haven’t heard much from you in the past 25 years.”

Haymitch really thought about dropping a bomb like Peeta did last year but realizing how valuable your sponsors could be in the games, he thought better of it. “Not really. Y/N said that eight years isn’t enough time to get over being in the games. Twenty-five isn’t enough either.”

“Ah well I wish you the best of luck. Ladies and gentlemen, Haymitch Abernathy!”

He joined you up on the platform, squeezing your hand quickly before turning his attention to Katniss as she walked out on stage. Her dress was beautiful, a little over the top but Cinna had outdone himself. The crowd was losing their minds realizing that was Katniss’ unused wedding dress. The audience was completely captivated by her, especially when she revealed the Mockingjay dress that Cinna had weaved into the wedding dress that Snow no doubt made her wear. A daring display of defiance that you unfortunately knew someone would pay the price for.

Next came Peeta with his suave attitude from last year. They spoke for a moment until Caesar brought up the unfulfilled wedding.

“Actually we got married. In secret,” he revealed. You glanced at Katniss as inconspicuously as possible. Fortunately she kept her expression neutral. “We want our love to be eternal. Katniss and I, we’ve been luckier than most. I wouldn’t have any regrets at all if it weren’t…” Caesar pressed him. The entire Capitol was in the edge of their seats, hell you were too. “If it weren’t for the baby.”

The Capitol was shocked, you were shocked, the other victors were shocked, even Katniss was shocked. The audience was losing its mind, some even shouting to stop the games. You half wondered if Peeta knew you were pregnant. He made his way up to the stage, hugging Katniss. You still faced the audience when you felt Haymitch’s hand grab yours. Looking over you could see Katniss holding his other hands so you grabbed Chaff’s wrist. Once everyone was linked you all lifted your arms up. The Victors joined in solidarity against these games and the Capitol.

Part VII | Masterlist | Part IX

#haymitch #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x reader #thg #the hunger games #the hunger games x reader

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talonabraxas · 9 months

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IX The Hermit Tarot art by Matthew G. Lewis

The Hermit represents the part of our spiritual journey we must walk alone. Wisdom lives in moments of quiet contemplation. Solitude allows you to process all of the knowledge and experience you have received from external sources. This card appears when it is time to remove yourself from the flow of society in order to pursue your own path. Leave behind the world of chaos and constant distraction. Focus only on the soft whisper of your intuition.

Walking the solitary path takes courage and dedication. The Hermit must trust that each small step will bring him closer to a sacred truth as he climbs the mountain of his own understanding. Reaching the peak, he sees a valley of wisdom spread out before him. The lantern that once guided his footsteps is now a beacon of light for those who are just beginning their ascent. The Hermit has now become the Sage who facilitates the inward journey of others.

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vinetwine · 3 months

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hongjoong ideal type. as a boyfriend.

"hii can you do a reading on hongjoong ideal type and as a boyfriend please?? thankss" - anon.

tarot is interpretive guidance not factual outcome.

ideal type.

someone who is calm and reserved. very loving and affectionate. generous and helpful. a humanitarian - in their work or in their hobbies. patient and not quick to anger. rational. a philosophical thinker. optimistic. able to cheer him up. funny and has a sense of humor. able to go with the flow and not hold a grudge. alternative in appearance. a soulmate.

ix the hermit. x wheel of fortune. xix the sun. knight of pentacles, six of pentacles. the lovers at the bottom of the deck.

as a boyfriend.

protective. loving. doting. the breadwinner and caretaker. emotionally available but can be distant at times. gives good advice. a shoulder to cry on. stable. loyal. committed. dates for marriage not for fun. needs communication and compromise. can put his work first. may not open up easily. not big on pda. may prefer to keep a relationship hidden or with limited details. emotional connection matters.

i edited the post and the cards i pulled were accidentally deleted.

#belle answers.#ateez tarot #kpop tarot #hongjoong tarot

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asingleietsist · 8 months

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"A Green Queen" AU

Chapter IX

TW: Character Death

Bowser hobbled down the stairwell with Kamek trailing at his left side. His patience was low with the Prince, he'd been away from the castle longer than he expected and wanted to finish the preparations for Luigi's coronation. He hurried down the chamber and once the two had reached the bottom of the stairs were perplexed but what they could see.

Most of the hall was pitch black with a flickering blue flame coming from the end of it. Kamek nervously waved his wand to provide some light, but was stopped by Bowser's tail. The King had noticed, very briefly, in the light of the torch, but more importantly the Prince's expression.

Soulless and cold.

Khufo's low-lid sea stained eyes peered into the cell as he muttered something to himself. Something that Bowser couldn't quite hear.

"Keep an eye on that boy.." Bowser started walking forward, "I was told that there were intruders?"

The Prince's expression remained, which prompted him to ask again.

"O-Oh, yes!", He smiled. The light reentered Khufo's eyes, he glanced at the slightly lit King. "One of them looked like your husband, so I just thought maybe you'd like to take care of him yourself."

"What?! Kamek!"

"Yes, sire."

Kamek waved his wand again and shot a small orb of light into the final cell. In it, a shaken up Yoshi was curled up around a small cloaked individual wearing a dry bones mask.

"Bring them forward."

Kamek did as such, his magic dragged the body towards the bars. The sudden jolt caused the hood of the midnight cloak to flail back, revealing dark brown bangs. His face still covered by the crackled bones.

Bowser let out a low growl of displeasure as he recognized the human.

"What are you doing here!? Don't you have any shame in going back on what was agreed on?! Couldn't even wait a week to see you damn brother, huh?!"

No response.

Khufo watched as Bowser's frustration grew with each question. Kamek glanced over and noticed the grin on the Prince's face.

"What is wrong with-"

"You know... I was surprised when it was rumored you got tricked into marrying that... Thing.", Khufo began.

He stood up and gestured for Kamek to place the husk of Mario back to the yoshi.

Kamek looked up at Bowser, who nodded, which reassured him to do so. As he placed Mario down, the yoshi snuggled him in again, shaking.

"You always seemed to fail getting the Princess after all your efforts... It must've been hard to have to do what you did alone." He sighed staring directly at Mario. "Yet you married to one of the brothers, against your will. Ironic, isn't it?", Khufo noted. Slowly he stood up, his eyes flashed a slight purple tint once the amulet shook against his fur.

"What are you implying?!", Bowser growled. "No one said our love would be an easy one. She merely tricked me to get my attention.. Now I get to see her every month without the hassle."

Khufo grinned, "I mean no insult, your highness. I'm simply suggesting a better...solution.". Small streams of violet magic sifted through the sides of the amulet. The flow of it gathered into Khufo's eyes and as they did, the skull concealing Mario's head lifted it. Mario now glared at the Prince with the same purplish tint.

Kamek glanced at the cell then back at Khufo and flinched once he noticed.

"You have both brothers here now. One has let his guard down around you and the other...", his eyes trailed to Mario. "The other seems to be tired."

"Your offer is... tempting, but I-I'm married to-"

Khufo bit his lip furiously, his feathers ruffled and his tail began a low swish above the floor.

"Oh please, you and I know that's simply formalities... You've never had a problem taking what's yours. You don't have to use that excuse.", Khufo chuckled. "Oh great King Koopa, what you want is in your claws and all you have to do is grasp it. Mario has left the Mushroom Kingdom defenseless."

Kamek looked up at Bowser and his eyes narrowed seeing the King actually considering it. "S-Sire.. if I may."

Bowser nodded, his gaze never shifting from the cell.

"Would it really be YOUR win if you hadn't actually successfully defeated Mario yourself? W-We would be breaking your honor..."

"Honor?...", Bowser repeated. He desperately wanted to do so, it was what he built his entire life around.

'It has never been this easy..'

"What are you asking for in return?"

Khufo blinked in surprise, "Nothing, I simply want to see an ally of mine get what he wants. I know my father would've wanted this."

Kamek chimed in, "Your father wouldn't have done THIS. "

Khufo rolled his eyes, "He was a bit too tenderhearted..".

Bowser sighed, "Fine."

"Your Highness?!"

"Excellent!"

"I'm taking what's mine, Kamek. The children need a mother and... I've been patient.."

Luigi blinked his eyes open to a dimly lit room. He yawned and rubbed his eyes, looking around for the bathroom. He felt his forehead as he sat up and smiled a bit not feeling a surging headache.

He swung the cover off of himself and got off the bed. Once his foot touched the floor, he hissed a bit from the cold stone, but pressed on.

Despite the cold, his heart felt warmth remembering how gently Bowser had cared for him. He was still surprised that he'd listened, but was a bit more at ease with seeing the effort Bowser was going through to control his temper.

He searched, as good as his eyes could see, for the bathroom, but it seemed as if there wasn't any in his room. He gulped as his attention turned towards the large doors, knowing he'd have to leave to find one.

Opening them, he stepped out into the hall once the coast was clear and slowly made his way down them. He heard the rumbling of some clouds nearby and shook as a flash of lightning flooded the hallways.

'This feels familiar...'

He chuckled a bit, trying to shake the feeling, and keep his spirits up.

With every step, he carefully looked around, almost fearful of what would jump out at him. As he got closer to the end of a hall, he noticed the rain pouring out onto the palace. Leaves were fluttering, dancing in the wind and lightning shot quickly in the distance shortly after the thunder boomed.

A large silhouette appeared, silently at the other end of the hall.

Luigi turned around and flinched, but his fear faded once he saw the familiar face.

"Bowser!", He beamed. "O-Oh, um. I couldn't find a bathroom and I wanted to check out the storm happening outside. I didn't mean to leave.. W-Well I did, but I meant if it seems like I did then, then I didn't? Hehe..."

Bowser rumbled lowly, his brows furrowed and his eyes were closed as he fought his conscience.

His claw reached behind his back, pulling something off of his shell. He took up the item and tossed it towards Luigi.

The body tumbled and flailed before landing at Luigi's feet.

"Mario..?"

Horror shot through his body as he looked up at Bowser. His knees fell to the ground as he scrambled towards his brother's body and pulled his head to his chest.

"Please, please wake up! What have you-"

He didn't even see Bowser move, yet his claw was somehow covering his lips.

Bowser lowered his jaw down to Luigi's ear, so much so that he could feel the shakiness in his breath once he spoke. "We need to go. The Prince isn't as sane as you thought. He wants me to-"

The King paused as he looked down only to be met with Luigi's rage. His eyes glowed with fury.

With the tears that built in his eyes, Luigi he bit down on Bowser's claw to free his mouth.

"ARGH! LOOK-", he began as he rubbed the bitten finger. "You can yell at me all you want later, but we need to-"

Another flash of light and adherent rumble interrupted him.

"Bowser~ My father's DEAR friend. You've finally caught him."

The thunder rumbled again, however the strikes were inched closer. The time between each rumble shortened.

"You have them where you want them, so do it. Kill them!", Khufo cackled.

Luigi panicked as his attention turned to Bowser whose back was turned to him.

"......What? What is he talking about? You just told me he-"

"You'll get the Princess, a strong, united kingdom. Nothing would ever stand in your way again once they're gone. Isn't that what you planned!", Khufo continued.

Bowser stood still and avoided Luigi's eyes, the moment Luigi noticed his hesitation he started to breathe heavily, angrily.

'He... he's really going to do it..'

'I WARNED YOU'

'No...'

Luigi hoisted his brother up onto his back quickly and took a deep breath before he challenged all his energy to his hands to hold his brother steady.

The thunder rumbled...

And the lightning....

Daisy blinked her eyes open, a light ringing present in her head as she felt the light pattern of rain hitting her face.

The yoshi licked her cheek before it turned its attention towards the large hole at the side of the palace. Bits of the stone and sand solidified to glass and char. As she stood up, another rumble knocked her off balance causing her to hold onto the yoshi's saddle.

Peering out, a stray purple light shot from floors above them and into the palace fountain below. A shrill roar echoed into the sky followed by a crackle of lightning, and the patterned stomping feet of troops heading towards the destruction.

As she made her way to the edge, she could see the dismay of the Koopa Troopa below. A few dropped their spears, while others kneeled in fear and sorrow. She'd never seen them cry before.

She climbed onto the yoshi and as they floated down to some rubble to hide, as she looked over to the pile of debris, she covered her mouth.

Kamek stepped forward behind Luigi, whose eyes still glowed with a soft, conflicted fury. Below them was Bowser's sprawled body.

It laid under some rubble and as Daisy looked closer she could see pieces of his shell fragmented further below in the sand and stone. It almost looked like it was green glass created from the sand.

Spotty went over to join the troops and as they saw the mess, they gasped.

The soldiers exchanged looks at one another and before they could say anything, Spotty yelled out in the rain. "ALL HAIL, QUEEN LUIGI!"

It echoed in the rain for a bit and the troops repeated their words once before a light hum fell on the army.

The soldiers began to bow and chanted:

"Ashes and Stone. Ashes and Stone. For today, a King has fallen."

They began to take up the body, still chanting after they removed some rubble and picked up as many shell pieces as they could find.

"The Stone was sturdy, but the Sun scorched his scales and now his Ashes remain dormant."

A few soldiers cried as the collected what they could. A few more were called over to get the body to the ship and help slow the bleeding.

"His enemies shall tremble in the roar of his name, one carved in the Stone and one that is sung from the Ashes of his grave."

Luigi watched as they carried him off, his hands clenched tightly to his brother's shorts as he trembled.

Kamek looked taken aback, "Your majes-... Your Highness, w-we should regroup.. the ship is ready to depart..."

"ASHES AND STONE, ASHES AND STONE. FOR TODAY KING BOWSER HAS RISEN!"

Luigi turned to Kamek slowly and tiredly, "Ok..".

He looked down at the remaining troops, who were waiting for his verdict. Spotty smiled proudly as they waited.

"I-I...", He began. "I...."

'I can't do this.'

Kamek saw his distress and stepped up beside him, "Don't worry, I'm right here.."

Luigi nodded solemnly. "Tonight, Bowser has...", He choked up. "His condition is dire. I know, I-I'm not the ruler you wanted... Nor am I half as much of a leader as he..was... But from here on out, I stand before you as your Queen. Whether the King chose me or not, I will make sure his legacy...li.."

Luigi couldn't keep the tears in, they streamed down his face in anguish.

'That idiot...'

The Koopas kneeled down and began to hum lowly, but in unison, as they grieved with their Queen.

Kamek hummed the melody, and placed a claw on Luigi's shoulder.

"Ashes and Stone. Those are the two things the Koopa have built their morals on. With Ashes, they provide life to the Darklands and despite how dim they look are a sign that the land that was scorched is healing. The Stone can hold those ashes.. it is strong, it is sturdy... Even with its cracks, as long as there are many, no fortress is easily broken."

Luigi took a minute to collect himself. All he could utter were a few words.

"I'm so sorry... I'm so...so sorry..", he cried.

Luigi had passed by the infirmary once or twice but was denied access inside by the healers

As he walked down the hall, a ring of guards followed him around, keeping pace with his every step.

"We'll be arriving to the Mushroom Kingdom shortly, your highness."

"......Alright."

"Your brother has recovered well, but hasn't spoken a word to the healers or his aid."

"I don't expect him to...Where is Kamek?"

"He is waiting for your approval at the airships. He wants to go with some Shy guys to tell the children the news-"

Luigi paused. "He..". Luigi hurried to the docking levels and saw Kamek orchestrating a ship to leave. "You can't!"

Kamek looked at him, sorrow filled his eyes. "We've discussed this.."

"And I still say we shouldn't! Not until I-"

Kamek turned to the guards and motioned for everyone to leave.

As the door shut behind them, he took off his glasses to reveal tears that swelled in his eyes.

"It wasn't your fault, but we can't keep it from them forever."

"I need more time, please!"

"Your Highness, the news will spread once the Empire regains its forces and we'll be vulnerable.", He cried. "I understand you need time, but with every second we don't regroup and tighten our ranks, the more we-"

Luigi took his claw and held it tight, "Please... I need just a day.."

Kamek sighed then turned towards the balcony. "Yes, your highness.."

Luigi beamed slightly and gave Kamek a tight hug. ".... I want them to know... I really do, but I don't even know where to begin with telling them about ALL of it."

Kamek patted his back, "I know...". He moved slowly out of the hug and cleared his throat. "Now, do you remember what he said to you?"

Luigi nodded, "The Prince wasn't who we thought...?"

Kamek smiled nervously letting out a heartbroken chuckle, "He was never the best with words. I guess that was my fault in the end.. And then what happened?"

"The Prince showed up and said that my brother and I were supposed to be killed.. by him. I couldn't think straight after that... I didn't mean... Every time I thought he was better... If I had listened to him, he wouldn't be-"

"The King knew it wouldn't be something you'd take lightly." Kamek sighed, "He wasn't going to go through with it.. He told the Prince that it would be entertaining to see your reaction to your brother's..."state" and took him to get him out of the cell. Once we made our way out of the prisons, he ordered me to get the troops and ship ready for a swift departure."

Luigi blinked, "So then I wrongfully kil-..."

Kamek looked at him, "No, no... You didn't, your highness please.. j-just let me finish."

Luigi nodded as he choked back tears, his eyes still swollen from the previous night.

"He was going to collect you quietly from your bed, since he presumed you'd still be asleep. It was supposed to be a quick getaway, so we could figure out later what to do about the Prince.... predicament.", He said. "I had noticed something wasn't right after watching the lightning's patterns shift from sporadic to uniformed. It seemed like something... Or...someone, was charging each strike to aim towards the palace. Before I could stop it with my own spell, seeing as it was getting closer to your room, it struck... I-I thought it was the Prince, but his powers, at least from what I know about his father's... Never harnessed electrical assistance."

Luigi looked at his hands, "I...I thought."

'No...'

Bowser turned as he saw a shot of magic heading towards Luigi and quickly took the hit with his shell. Khufo laughed, "Really?! After having the odds in your favor?! You still want him? Do you realize the opportunity you're missing out on! SHE'LL be yours! You'll finally be happy!"

Bowser ignored his jeering and pressured remarks. He moved Luigi from his chest only to see his eyes filled with tears. He ignored it and yelled "YOU NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE! HE-"

"WHAT IS HE TALKING ABOUT?!"

"I SAID I'LL EXPLAIN AFTER-"

"NO, YOU CAN'T KEEP DOING SAYING SHIT AND JUST EXPECT ME TO JUST-

"Look I'm SORRY, ok?! I know it's a lot to believe in me right now but I PROMISE, this time I need you to leave!"

Luigi stepped back from him as his eyes gleaned, another flash of lightning crackled, "No. Were NOT doing this again. I'M not doing this again! BOWSER MY BROTHER IS DYING AND YOU WANT ME TO TRUST YOU?!"

Another flash erupted, closer than the last.

Khufo grinned from their bickering. He clawed opened his amulet, the aloe vera emblem wilted entirely on the brassy coating. The magic festered into his body as he unsheathed his claws. His fur prickled and relished the powerful feeling that coarse through his veins. It began to glow a luminescent violet, pulsing with his heartbeat, a distorted cackle left his lips as his hypnotic eyes focused on the three in front of him.

"You silly turtle."

Bowser heard the laughter and frantically glanced back at the Prince before he looked towards the sky then back at Luigi. He knew that the small plumber wouldn't listen to reason, as upsetting as his chest knew it was, his conscience cleared as the rumbling started slowly above them.

"Luigi... Please, calm down.".

As he started to explain, Luigi couldn't hear the words that came next. It was too much for him to take in.

All he could register and replay was that Bowser had flung his paralyzed brother at his feet, mocked and schemed against him with the Prince and to finish it off he had the gall to stand before him and give a half assed apology.

'How could he stand in front of him pleading for him to understand.'

The final strike of lightning flashed as fast as his last thought. All of its charged branches struck the side of the palace as Luigi was about to yell.

In the same second, the Prince lifted up and shot his body forward towards the two, aiming for Luigi, but collided with Bowser as stood in front of him again, taking the full force of the attack.

Right through the Koopa's body.

With the last of his strength, Bowser pushed Luigi and his brother to the side as the wall collapsed above him.

Once the smoke had cleared, Luigi sat there stunned, right next to Mario's shivering body.

Kamek gave a weak smile, "I can see his passing is weighing on you, I know you didn't mean to strike him, but....", he paused.

'Tell him the truth.'

"We will drop your brother off at the Mushroom Kingdom like you asked... but we will need you to say your goodbyes.."

"What?.. But I thought I wouldn't..."

"You're not the first queen to have their husband killed.. accidentally or not. The powers you have were out of control and you weren't aware of them. Junior is still too young to rule and as much as I would like for Roy to be appointed, he isn't of royal blood.", Kamek took a deep breath. "You are now our Queen..."

'TELL HIM!'

Luigi's eyes widened as he tried to take in the information, "..I-I need to check on my brother..".

'Coward...'

As he rushed out of the balcony, he was met with the ring of guards that began to follow him closely.

His head spun as the events rolled around in his mind and he needed to distract himself and clear them out. Just for a moment.

Kamek shook his head then looked out at the stars and started to hum in grief.

#a green queen au #a green queen bowuigi fanfic #bowuigi fanfiction #super mario bowser #bowuigi #luigi #bowser #bowser x luigi

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teyamsatan · 1 year

Text

The Archer | Chapter IV: Peace

Chapter I Chapter II Chapter III Chapter IV Chapter V Chapter VI Chapter VII Chapter VIII Chapter IX Chapter X

Summary: Adapting to the Metkayina is harder on you than you thought it would be. Friction develops as both you and Neteyam's seeds of resentment for each other start to grow. Gideon discovers a secret in the forest that will change his purpose.

Pairings: Neteyam x Avatar!Reader, Lo'ak x Tsireya

Word Count: 11.8k words

Warnings/notes: smut(18+, minors DNI!), angst, mentions of death, blood, violence, cursing, SPOILERS for ATWOW

A/N: This chapter has probably been the hardest thing I have ever written - still finding writing the film whilst somehow finding a way to make it feel new and fit with the story extremely difficult. I tried to fit a lot of the Metkayina storyline in this chapter, but still have a long way to go, and so this will probably be a couple more chapters than I had originally planned. It was nice to reimagine the movie to fit the reader in, and I hope you enjoy reading about what I think went on behind the scenes we did get to see 🥰 Next chapter is when everything picks up and becomes angst-central, so enjoy this aptly named instalment x

Also, Lima Charlie means Loud and Clear, for everyone like me that was confused in the cinema x

Series masterlist (x)

And you know that I'd swing with you for the fences

Sit with you in the trenches

Give you my wild, give you a child

Give you the silence that only comes when two people understand each other

Family that I chose, now that I see your brother as my brother

Is it enough if I can never give you peace?

Neteyam woke up naturally with the sun, something he has always been able to do. Whether willing or not, he has always been an early riser, ready to make the best of each day given to him by the grace of Eywa. It was strange sharing a tent with his family again, but he did enjoy hearing all the soft rhythmic breaths and the slight snore coming from his father. His attention swiftly turned to you, and he watched as you slumbered peacefully, chest rising and falling with each deep breath. Your mouth was slightly agape and there were strands of hair fallen over your stunning face, that Neteyam reached over and moved. Atan..

He didn’t think you were ready to get up yet, so he gently removed himself from your loose grasp, trying not to wake everybody up as he did. His gaze shifted to a little blister pack, you said it was called, and his mood worsened instantly at the sight of the pills, those damned pills.

“What are these?” Neteyam picked up the little pill pack you took everywhere with you and the pills you took every day since you have become an Avatar just a couple weeks ago. “Is it for the virus?”

Neteyam watched intently as your gaze shifted from his, busying yourself with something else as the morning comfort faded away. You moved swiftly from the warmth of your new mate’s body and the sheets you were wrapped in all night, and went to your desk, where you struggled with your hair, untangling the pieces that were flowing freely down your back. You didn’t look at him as you answered.

“No, they’re not for the virus.”

Slight panic rose in Neteyam’s chest thinking of what these could mean. Were you sick again? Did the remnants of the disease in your human body transfer alongside your consciousness?

“Atan, you are starting to scare me. Just tell me what they are.”

You sighed and put down your brush, staring at the hands now tugging at each other in your lap.

“They’re birth control pills.”

“What are birth control pills?”

“They are pills so that you don’t get pregnant.”

There was a distinct pause in Neteyam’s mind, where his entire brain just stopped functioning for a little while. Neteyam knew that Mo’at has certain herbs and potions for situations where a pregnancy is wildly outside of what is appropriate, or for when the woman’s life is at risk, but neither situation seemed to apply here, and Neteyam couldn’t help the sudden pain and anger that seemed to rise in his chest.

“Why?”

You were picking at your nails cuticles so badly they were all bleeding and Neteyam found himself putting his hands over yours to stop it, the thought of the pain you were putting yourself through eating at him, above everything else.

“Atan… Just tell me. You’re my mate… and beyond that, you’re my best friend, my soulmate. I want to know.”

“I don’t want to have a baby. Not yet. I am still a baby myself, learning to take my first steps in this new world, in this new body - this new life. I have so much to learn, so much to live, so much I want to experience for myself first. I have been stuck in a lab for 18 years. I have been in pain and hurting and suffering my whole life. I am finally getting better, but there is still so much I need to do, so much growth I need to go through myself before I can take care of another being.”

“I also just don’t want to share you. Is that so bad?”

Neteyam thought about it long and hard, and felt the anger subsiding slowly. It made sense to him, although unnatural, but you are human. You don’t think about things the same way, and he has always tried to bear that in mind. And to be completely truthful, he wasn’t ready to be a father yet, either. He just got you. You had a lifetime to be a family, but once you have your first child, it will never be just the two of you again, and Neteyam also wanted to be selfish in his desire to keep you just for himself for now.

It’s been almost a year since that happened, and although most of his feelings remained the same, through time, a seed of hurt and pain was planted every time he saw you hurry off from his embrace in order to make sure you don’t miss any pill whatsoever. A hint of anger dwells in his soul every time you forget it and the subsequent terror that envelops your being, like the thought of having his baby was inconceivable to you, it was horrifying to you. Neteyam didn’t think he wanted a baby, but he definitely didn’t like how much you didn’t seem to want his baby. Neteyam knew he was being irrational, and the much more logical explanation was that, just like you have mentioned multiple times before, you were just not ready to be a mother yet, and it had nothing to do with him. But he couldn’t stop the nagging feeling that ate at him each time, regardless how much he tried.

He was so deep in thought, sitting with his legs in the water at the edge of the marui, that he didn’t even notice Kiri making her way outside until she placed a hand on him, making him jump slightly, which elicited a small laugh from his baby sister. He rolled his eyes, then sighed quietly.

“What is wrong, brother?”

“Soon, it will be one year since she and I mated”, Neteyam said, gazing at you, still sleeping peacefully in the tent.

“And that upsets you how?”

“It doesn’t upset me. I am so happy, happier I’ve ever been. Her and I, we’ve spent our whole life loving each other, exchanging longing looks and secret moments, I almost lost hope that she would ever be mine. For so long, I thought what I felt for her was impossible, what I wanted was wrong. And now she’s here.”

“I still fail to see the problem.”

Neteyam didn’t know if he should say this out loud. He hasn’t even thought it to himself, and he was now going to confess to another person, to his baby sister? He didn’t want to burden her with his issues.

“You’re right, there’s no problem.”

“Brother, you are the worst liar. Just tell me.”

“I feel like we are not in the same place sometimes. I feel I’ve grown, I feel like our relationship is in one stage, and I feel like she feels our relationship is a few steps behind.”

“I find that hard to believe. You two are the most connected people I have ever met. Sometimes it feels like you are constantly linked through Tsaheylu. It’s a little freaky, if I’m being honest. Have you talked to her about it?”

Neteyam finally removed his eyes from your form, looking at the water he was stirring with his feet and the fish that were swimming peacefully around him.

“I’ll take that as a no. Don’t you think you should? Before you jump to conclusions and drive yourself crazy?”

Neteyam saw memories flash across his mind’s eye, of you holding Tuk tightly as you slept in your tent and you teaching her and protecting her, and of the pills that haunted his dreams, and with a sigh, got up and decided it would be better to go for a quick walk.

Kiri rolled her eyes at her stubborn, closed-off older brother, and said “You haven’t grown if you still feel the need to keep everything inside and not communicate with the person you love most in the world. Also, do something special for the anniversary.”

“Already on it. Thanks, baby sis.”

Neteyam came back a little after everyone else was ready to get on with their days. His eyes immediately went to yours, and he saw you had a concerned expression on your face, eyeing him curiously. What’s wrong? You might as well have been screaming the words to him, they were so clear in his mind. He gave you a small smile, and shrugged minutely. Just a weird day. You scanned his face for more information, and he felt a small blush make its way to his face under the scrutiny of your gaze. You could read him like a book, could read most people like a book, and Neteyam always found your ability to see into people’s souls a little intimidating. He couldn’t keep secrets from you, and right now, there was one he kind of wanted to.

“Ok, Sullys fall in.” Neteyam heard his dad calling out to them all, and when he saw Lo’ak wandering around the marui aimlessly, he pulled him to his knees forcefully.

“Remember? Family meeting.”

His baby sisters both looked a little despondent - Kiri was still in a foul mood from the move and this whole ordeal and Tuk looked sad. Neteyam’s heart tugged at the sight, and then did some more when you pulled her closed to you and placed her in your lap.

“Ok, take a knee, let’s go.”

Jake looked only at him and Lo’ak as he spoke - figures.

“Now, I need you kids on your best behaviour. I mean it. Learn fast, pull your weight.” His eyes fell on Lo’ak. “Don’t cause trouble. Got it?” Neteyam chuckled at the specific need to address only Lo’ak, and he grabbed his baby brother’s neck affectionately, pulling at it. Lo’ak hissed in his brother’s direction and Neteyam let go, a little hurt at the overly defensive action.

You were nervous about today, you realised. Firstly, your mate seemed off. You were worried about him, in light of everything you two have been through in the past week, and you were hoping this whole situation wasn’t affecting him too much. You hoped being in the water, being together for the first time in a while with no looming threat of death and violence, of humans killing everything you hold dear, would ease his anxiety. Secondly, you weren’t looking forward to this, to being in this village with people who looked at you like you were a demon, where the spiritual leader hates you. It reminded you so much of your childhood, and how the Omatikaya eyed you down with disgust plastered all over their faces, with fear, with anger. You were not looking forward to reliving these experiences.

You were comforted slightly by the feeling of Tuk in your lap, and you were slowly running your hands up and down her arms when you felt slight shaking from her part. A small whimper escaped her lips, which made you painfully alert.

“I want to go home.” Your heart broke at her words, and tears filled your eyes as you took in her trembling voice and hunched body, almost as if she was trying to make herself smaller.

Jake took her hand in his and gently played with it as he spoke. “Tuk, this is our home now.”

He turned to face the rest of his family. “Now, we’re gonna get through this. We’re gonna get through this if we have each other’s backs.”

You were holding Tuk tightly in your arms, letting her cry it out in your lap.

“What does your father always say?” You heard Neytiri say in a calming tone, which brought comfort to your worried disposition.

“Sullys stick together.”

You met the girl, who you now knew is named Tsireya, and her brother, the annoying Ao’nung, at the edge of the village. You exchanged a few awkward interactions, taking in how Lo’ak withdrew in himself at the mere sight of your new beautiful friend, and laughed softly, poking him in the ribs, and much like his earlier interaction with Neteyam, you were met with an annoyed hiss. You laughed louder now - you were going to enjoy this.

The two siblings and their friend Rot’xo gracefully dove in the water, followed by Neteyam and Lo’ak. You, Kiri and Tuk were last, and you jumped in holding hands, trying to remember to hold your breath so as to not drown. You were not the best swimmer, and your anxiety built up at the thought of the struggle ahead of you.

Every feeling you had, every thought melted away instantly, the second your eyes took in the spectacle around you. A whole underwater world appeared in front you, and you struggled keeping your mouth closed, feeling the need to open it to showcase the shock you were experiencing. The most beautiful views you have ever seen, the most wondrous creatures and plants, plankton and coral, colourful and bright, unique and dazzling, taking your breath away if you had any to spare. You looked over at Neteyam, who had a similar expression on his face, and when your eyes met, you smiled at each other, as well as you could underwater. So the water did help. Good.

You glanced over at Kiri, who dove much further than any of you, and was fully immersed in the experience, touching all the fish that naturally seemed to gravitate towards her. You watch as the Metkayina kids swam deeper and deeper down, their tails undulating in the water and propelling them forward, an evolutionary advantage you lacked, and with the heartbeat you could feel painfully in your ears, you made your way to the surface. You gasped for air when your body found it again, trying to make up for the oxygen deprivation you experienced while in the water.

Soon enough, Neteyam, Lo’ak and Tuk joined you, trying desperately to catch their own breaths. You felt Neteyam’s hand reaching for yours under the water, and you felt happy his mood seems to have improved significantly in just the span of a couple hours.

“Bro, let’s go.” Lo’ak nudged you and went back in the water, and you and your mate exchanged an amused look. “Someone’s in looove.” You said laughing. Neteyam shook his head lightly, but smiled at your childishness. You took as deep a breath as you possibly could, and, still holding on to Neteyam’s hand, you both submerged, trying to actually go deeper in the water as opposed to just staring in awe until your lungs feel like they were exploding.

It didn’t take long for the need to resurface to become necessary, and you found yourself once again grasping for air trying to settle your breath. You saw Tsireya, Ao’nung and Rot’xo return from their deep dive, and with a gentle voice, Tsireya spoke, and her voice calmed you instantly. You were wondering if it had the same effect on your baby brother. You doubted it.

“Are you alright?”

A squeaky voice came from behind you. “You’re too fast!! Wait for us!!”

“Just breathe…breathe.”

An aggravating voice broke through Tsireya’s calm one, and you felt the twinge of annoyance taking over you as Ao’nung spoke in a mocking tone. “You are not good divers…maybe good at swinging through trees…” A smack in the head coming from his sister was duly appreciated, or you would have done it yourself if it hadn’t happened.

“We don’t speak this finger talk, guys. we don’t know what you’re saying.”

“I will teach you.”

Gideon was still in shock, still unable to process what he was told hours ago, in the dead of night, by a kid he’d rather never have met, if he was being honest. One of them is yours. One of them is yours. One of them is yours.

His own. His kid. How was that even possible? Jo wasn’t pregnant, was she? He thought all the kids were Sully’s, they are all blue. Did they manage to make you an Avatar? He thought that was impossible.

He had so many questions and not a single answer. It was driving him mad. It was killing him, not knowing. It would be long until he would be able to be alone with Spider again, and he had to know something. He had to find out anything. He made his way to one of the security rooms, where a few men in a uniform were attentively watching the many screens displayed in front of them. God, what a fucking boring job, Gideon thought.

“Morning, guys. I was sent by General Ardmore to review the footage from the train attack. If you can pull those up, that’d be great.”

“Right away, sir.”

He watched as the footage from all angles played on different screens, and he took his time rummaging through its entirety, focusing on one at a time. He recognised Jake and his wife, and winced as he saw the damage they were inflicting on the humans piloting the helos. In certain angles, he saw the pilots and gunners being shot down from a great distance, and saw fleetingly a girl on a white banshee, shooting a sniper rifle. His heart stopped in his chest. None of the other people were shooting a gun, outside from Jake, who was a marine. Everyone else was using bow and arrows. He can faintly make out the girl’s features, and he recognises her from the woods. She was the one by which they figured out they were Sully’s. She had 5 fingers and eyebrows, like an Avatar, and a mean aim. He watched in wonder as this kid shot gunner after gunner head and chest only, and felt a swell of pride overtake him.

Could it be? Could this possibly be true? Could this be his daughter?

Gideon stalked off as soon as he finished getting the information he wanted, and moved on to the lab where he knew Spider was being tortured for information. He had to put an end to this, now.

He heard the screams before he made his way in the room, and with an uneasy feeling in his stomach, he entered. General Ardmore was standing on a platform and watching as the poor kid wailed in agony. He didn’t pay much attention to it, going straight for Quaritch, who was also watching, an unreadable expression on his face. He didn’t think he was enjoying this either. This was his son, after all. No louder than a whisper, Gideon approached Quaritch. “We need to put an end to this.”

The commander turned his head in Gideon’s direction, raising an eyebrow inquisitively. “Why would we do that?”

“Because you know as well as I do that this is fucked up. This is your fucking son, Quaritch.” Gideon saw a flash of guilt and sadness pass over his face, and he was surprised to find out Quaritch did indeed have a heart, albeit a small, tiny, inconsequential heart, but there nonetheless.

Feeling empowered by the silent confirmation, Gideon went to the machine and pushed the big glaring button that meant the stop of the torturous process. His general turned around with a feral look on her face. Crazy bitch, Gideon thought.

“General, we can use this kid. This kid’s been with the Sullys for 19 years. He has lived amongst the Na’vi, he knows his way around, knows everything about Pandora, about the Omatikaya. He’s loyal, he won’t give them up. But maybe if we try the…personal approach,” he said, looking at Quaritch, standing limply on his left, “we might get better results. He can teach us the ways, the language, he can help us integrate better in the environment, so we can travel the Hallelujah mountains easier, and find them faster.”

Gideon saw the she-devil processing his words carefully, and he knew he won. He was one step closer to his daughter, and nothing was going to stop him from finding the truth.

You watched as Ao’nung stepped forward and clicked his tongue rapidly in the direction of the open sea, and you watched in amazement as a few beautiful sea creatures made their way to him, circling all of you docilely. Your gaze fell on your mate, who was holding his baby sister up in his arms, the chiseled muscles of his limbs on full display, and between the way your ovaries throbbed at the sight of him being so paternal, so protective over the child, and the sight of his incredible body, you were just about a puddle of desire, grateful to be surrounded by water for once.

“These are ilu.” The Metkayina boy’s voice pulled you out of your indecent musings, and you tried to focus, tried to learn. “If you want to live here, you have to ride.”

After hours and hours of pure torture, you were ready to admit to yourself you hated this, and you sucked at it, which probably contributed to that feeling. Turns out riding the equivalent of a baby ikran underwater and being thrashed around every few seconds because you didn’t have the lower body strength to hold onto it was not fun, and by eclipse, you were tired, wet, grumpy and definitely ready to call it a day. You were at least a little happy to know that the two Sully boys didn’t fare any better, but you were a little jealous of Kiri and Tuk, who seemed to fit in right away, and they were already riding their ilu to your family’s marui for the night.

You could see Neytiri and Jake chatting over the fire, smiles on both their faces, and you felt a wave of contentment envelop you at the sight. Maybe you could all begin to heal, in the midst of this untouched, tropical beauty, far away from the threat that was plaguing you in the forest. Maybe you can learn to live without fear again, or for the first time in your life.

You were walking towards the tent when you felt a soft hand wrap around your waist, pulling you snugly against a strong, taut body. Neteyam’s breath fanned across the side on your face as he whispered lowly in your ears, sending pulses of electrical current down the column on your spine.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

You turned your head slightly to meet his gaze, needy and full of desire, and your stomach filled with messy, energetic butterflies. “Wherever you want me to?”

“Good girl.”

You walked all the way through the village and towards the forest, and called for your ikran, that you spent a little quality time with - the whole ilu business made you realise how much you loved Neyn, and how irreplaceable to you she’ll always be. She was feeling a bit down, you could tell when you bonded, and you knew she also missed her home, just like you all did. You gave her a few treats, some fish you managed to get a hold of on the way here, and you were off. Eclipse rides with your mate was one of your favourite ways to spend your nights, but whatever you were about to do would definitely always be the top contender. Nevertheless, the bliss of the open air against your face, the races and the laughs as you bumped into each other, the feeling of the wind taking your breath away, the thrill of the power coursing through your veins as you went so fast the whole world blurred around you - nothing would ever compare.

You sighted a small island - island is probably a generous term for this patch of sand with one lone tree adorning it, and you both landed on it, Seze a few seconds before Neyn.

“And the master wins… again.” He says cockily, with a mischievous smile as he dismounts and reaches for you, and you jump from your banshee straight into his arms. He catches you, as he always does, and his hands find your ass as your legs wrap around him.

“I let you win.” You look at his beautiful face and you laughed when you saw him giving you a look that you assumed was the equivalent of raising his eyebrow at you.

“What’s your punishment for this face, huh? Whenever I do it, you tell me I need to be taught a lesson.”

He pretended to think about it for a second.

“Huh, I think either way you’re the one getting punished.”

You smacked his arm playfully and feigned indignation.

You loved when he was playful. It happened rarely, as he has always been a serious, no-nonsense kind of a guy, but when it did, there was no one who shone brighter, no one whose eyes sparkled more, no one who made the world more beautiful. He put you down on the ground gently, and his soft lips found your forehead. It was such a simple gesture, but so intimate, so heartwarming that your heart picked up pace in your chest. “I love you.”

“I love you more, Atan. I need you to remember that, cause it won’t feel like that in the next couple hours.”

Your mouth flooded with saliva at his words, and the warmth in your chest swiftly moved in between your thighs and you remember that it’s been a while since you were alone, a while since you felt his hands and mouth on you, in you, the only place they belonged.

He took the blanket he always kept on Seze and spread it on the warm, soft sand, and motioned for you to lay on it, which you were more than happy to do.

He slowly started removing his adornments, much easier job now, having left the Omatikaya jewellery and cummerbund behind, leaving him in only his loincloth and the bracelet he refused to ever take off. He saw your breath quicken laying on the blanket and you parted your legs for him, like on command. “Now…before we were rudely interrupted by Lo’ak in our tent, I was asking you to be quiet for me. I think I’d like to see that now. Do you think you can keep quiet for me, baby girl?” The look you gave him drove him feral, and his loincloth was hurting him, painful against his hard-on, twitching wildly, begging to be set free, begging to feel you - to fill you. He slowly got on top of you, planting kisses on your body, purposefully avoiding your needy core.

“Neteyam…”

“Shh, Atan, what did I just say?”

He removed his mouth from your body and came face to face with you. “I said we have to find a way to keep you quiet. How is this for a way? You don’t keep that beautiful mouth shut, I stop.” He laughed at the way you squirmed underneath him, raising your pelvis trying to get some release, any sort of friction, but he skilfully avoided you, and continued his onslaught, lips and tongue all over your beautiful body, that he couldn’t wait fuck until you were crying with your eyes rolled in the back of your head.

“So fucking unfair.”

“All in good time, my love.”

Torturously, he made his way to your belly button, and slowly descended, taking both of your legs and placing them on top of his shoulders, until he could feel your heels on his back. You were too far gone to see anything around you, so fucking desperate you were sure you were ripping the blanket by how tightly you were coiling it around you hand. This was torture, agonising torture, and you felt your ass dripping in juices from how wet you were. You wanted to scream, you wanted to let this island, the village, the whole world know what he was doing to you, how wild the feelings you were experiencing ran. You wanted to cry out his name in pleasured moans , falling from your tongue like a litany, like a prayer to never stop, to never take away this feeling.

He saw how desperate you were by how hardly you were biting down your lip, so hard he was sure he could see blood, even in the dark. His poor Atan, so damn needy. He would have to make it up to you.

You moaned loudly when he inserted two fingers in your drenched core, and left them there, unmoving and cruel.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll stop. Just move, please. Please.” You started grinding against his fingers, trying to get your own release. He removed his fingers and looked at you sternly. “Do you know what happens to bad girls, Atan?”

You panted wildly but said nothing, refusing to look at him. He rose from the position he was in and faced you again, opening you mouth with the two fingers he had in you and pushing them down you throat. You sucked on them, loving the taste of yourself on him, wishing it was his dick instead. You licked his digits clean and it was his turn to moan, to which you raised an eyebrow. “Unfair!”

“All’s fair in love and war, baby girl. You taught me that.”

He removed his fingers from your mouth and was trailing them down your throat and chest, until he reached your nipples, that immediately hardened upon contact. He flicked them in between his fingers and placed his mouth on one, sucking and licking til they were sore, after which he moved to the other. You were bruised now, hickeys all over your body except in the one place you wanted. Your eyes were glossy with unshed tears, and he knew the need was becoming too overwhelming for you to bear.

“I think you’ve suffered enough. I need to fuck you now.” He plunged three fingers back in your desperate core, and he started pushing in and out of you with slow, languid motions, knowing exactly which spot to hit to make you see stars all around you. His mouth then followed, sucking and licking masterfully at your clit, unrelenting in his attempts to ruin you. You tried so hard to keep quiet, and you were doing so well, only the lewd sounds of his onslaught could be heard, sloppy and hot and you came all around his fingers and mouth, biting hard into your arm til blood came out to keep silent.

“That’s my good girl.” He licked the cum dripping over his fingers and moaned at the taste.

“You should taste yourself again, Atan, you taste unreal.”

“Only if it’s licking it off your cock.” He growled at you like an animal, and you could hear the loincloth ripping at the stitches as he pulled on it with such ferocity it would be scary if it wasn’t so fucking hot.

“You are such a little slut, aren’t you? Always wanting to suck my dick, you like milking me dry, don’t you, Atan?” He pistoned in you with enough strength you let out a pained cry, and there was no warming up, no slow burn, no building anticipation about the way he fucked into you until you felt he was going to break through your cervix. You still tried to keep quiet, the sounds of skin on skin slapping and his balls hitting the underside of your ass over and over the only ones you could hear and it was maddening, the pace, his look, the way his biceps were bulging to allow him to keep this ruthless pace, the way his abs contracted over and over to get him deeper and deeper in you, the way he lowered his mouth on yours and licked the blood from your bottom lip that was dripping from when you bit into it, it was all too much, and you felt yourself nearing that second orgasm, desperate for his cock to fill you up.

“That’s it, baby girl. Come all over my cock, let me see what a good girl you are. Let me hear you, Atan.”

At his permission, you came so hard you felt like you were going to pass out, loud shrilly moans escaping your lips with no concern for his previous command anymore, or the thought of anyone hearing you. Let them hear, let everyone hear how well you were being fucked on a nightly basis.

He removed himself from your still throbbing heat, and didn’t give you time to come down from the high, as he scooped you up from the blanket and took your place.

“Come on, baby, sit on my face. I want to come in your mouth.”

“Neteyam, I can’t..”

“Yes, you can, baby. Come on, let me make you feel good.”

You did as you were told, and gasped when your pussy made contact with his mouth, and his tongue immediately found your insides, fucking you with it like you didn’t just cry in pleasure from your last mind-numbing orgasm. You reciprocated though, licking his cock from balls to tip, loving the taste of you on him. You sucked on him like he was your favourite lollipop, which he was, teasing and licking the slit of his tip, taking him all in and moving your head up and down while pumping the base with your hands. He moaned loudly in you, the vibration making you clench around his tongue. You started grinding aggressively on his face while he fucked your mouth and you felt thick spurts of cum sliding down your throat as you cried out from the overwhelming sensation, slightly overstimulated, but deeply satisfied. You licked the last drops of cum from the tip, smiling as you felt him do the same with you. You learned in time that nothing gets wasted on Pandora.

It took Kiri and Tuk no time at all to learn the ways of the Metkayina, and you wish you could say the same about yourself, but in reality, you were struggling - a lot. It was taking a toll on your mental health, as you have never struggled with learning anything new your entire life. You prided yourself on your intelligence and self-sufficiency, on your prowess to always excel at any new tasks. You were trying to give yourself some grace, as you have only learnt to swim properly in the last year, and even then, you were doing it mostly as a fun post-training activity with Neteyam, never as a serious endeavour.

On a positive note, you and Tsireya bonded over your love for the ocean, pretty jewellery - she commented on multiple occasions on the bracelet adorning your arm, which lead into a deep discussion into the best places to find shells and stones fit for a Metkayina warrior, that she was sure you would be in no time -, your maternal care for Tuk and your mutual admiration for a certain Omatikaya troublemaker. You were over the moon to observe the pure, puppy love developing in between your favourite brother and this beautiful, caring, smart and gentle girl, who looked at Lo’ak like the sun rose in his eyes, just like you told him someday someone would.

“Breathe in…” Tsireya says in a calming tone, as she follows her own command. “And breathe out. Imagine flickering a flame. You must slow down your heartbeat.” You watched as she placed both her hands on Lo’ak’s body, and you could tell he was hyperventilating inside just by the look on his face.

“Breathe in. Breathe from down here.” She instructs with her hand on his torso. “Breathe out slowly.”

It was taking all the effort of your being to not start laughing at your baby brother, who was staring at his newfound flame like she was the only person in the world.

“Lo’ak. Your heartbeat is fast. Try to focus.”

“Sorry.” he says meekly, and you couldn’t stop yourself - a small chuckle that you tried to no avail to mask as a cough. You turned your face towards your mate, who was also snickering silently, and you both reached for each other’s hands, gleefully reminiscing about your own beginnings.

“What’s this?” Tsireya liked to come by your marui, she did so often, even when there was no one else around but you. You found yourself alone a lot more often these days, as Jake was training with the Olo’eyktan, Neytiri with Ronal, the rest of the siblings were always out in the water, and you found it hard sometimes to find your place in this new life, in this new world. In time, you and Netetam spent less and less time together - he was working hard, as he always was, to make sure he was doing well and pulling his weight. You felt a bit jealous over the fact that you no longer felt important to the kids, especially to Tuk, who now spends most of her time with the Metkayina girl, going as far as to adopt her way of dressing. It’s been a while since you and Lo’ak were alone and bonded over your many shared interests, as all his attention was now swiftly placed on the girl sitting in front of you. Between all of that, your hardships adapting to the new environment and feeling the gaping hole that the forest and leaving Norm and Max left in you, you ended up alone a lot, in this Marui that you learnt every square inch of.

Your gaze turned towards what she was pointed at, and fell on your guitar. “It’s called a guitar. It plays music.” You smiled at her. You liked Tsireya, and didn’t feel any resentment towards her, despite what the darkest parts of your being told you. She had a kind soul, a brave heart. And if there was anyone to replace you in Lo’ak and Kiri and Tuk’s heart, you were happy it was her.

“Can you show me?”

“Sure I can, but only if you ask me in English.” That was one of the things you have liked the most about being here - your daily English and Sign Language lessons with Tsireya. She taught you, you taught her, and it was the only thing you felt good at, so you always looked forward to it.

“Can…” you encouraged her with your expression, urging her to go on. “..you…see…me?”

“Show.” She smiled apologetically, a small blush colouring her cheeks.

“That’s great, Tsireya! You’re getting better every day.”

You picked up the guitar and tuned it quickly, and then played a familiar tune, humming mindlessly as your fingers glided across the strings.

“You have a beautiful voice. You should sing more, you should sing during our communal dinners.”

You smiled a small, sorrowful smile. You used to do that in the clan all the time - your clan. You wondered if this would ever feel the same.

“Why are you so intent on learning English? I mean, you have no real use for it.” You knew the answer as you asked, but you were curious to see her fumbling for an explanation outside of ‘I’m desperately in love with a boy who is half human and speaks English every day with you’.

It was just as amusing as you imagined it, and you felt a little bad for how hard she was blushing as she was picking at nothing on her loincloth. “It just seems useful, with all the humans that are plaguing our planet.”

“That makes sense… you can also just admit you like Lo’ak, you know?” You placed a hand on hers, trying to get her to stop messing with her clothes. “He likes you too, you know?”

You smiled widely at her doe-eyed expression, so overcome with happiness, your mood shifted instantly to one of hope, that at least something good came of all of this.

Gideon watched as Spider and Quaritch made their way to the helicopter they were all huddled in, and he felt grateful that the kid didn’t have to suffer anymore. As soon as he was inside, he immediately gripped the gun posted in the door, and Gideon reached over and pushed him on the seat.

“Woah, hold on there, hot shot.”

Quaritch was not far behind, and when he entered, he grabbed his son by the arm and spoke to him. “You listen up. There’s a tracker built in that mask. We hit the ground and you take off, I’ll have you back in two minutes and give you an old-school ass whipping. Understood?”

“Yes, sir.”

The Avatars landed in the midst of the forest, huddled together to listen for instructions from their commander.

“Ok, listen up. Jake Sully’s gone underground. Don’t matter. Wherever he is, we’ll find him… and his batshit crazy wife too. To do so, we go Na'vi. Full tilt all the way. That means we eat Na’vi, we ride Na’vi, think Na’vi.”

“And that starts with speaking the language.” Gideon knew a little more Na’vi than most soldiers, having learnt it in time from his beautiful Jo. He knew enough to know Quaritch was butchering it, and badly. He heard Spider snicker mockingly.

“Is that what you call speaking Na’vi?” Spider continued, but Gideon didn’t pick up what he was saying.

“Alright, smart guy. You just went from being our monkey mascot to official interpreter.”

It’s been a few weeks since you have arrived in Awa’atlu, and things were slowly moving forward. You were getting slowly - very slowly - better at this whole water thing. This morning, you decided to leave Neteyam alone with his parents for a while, thinking it would be beneficial for them all to spend some time together, outside of military training and practice. You and Kiri settled on going to the beach and just enjoying the clear warm water and endless sandy shores. You loved spending time with Kiri, and you felt guilty that it’s been a long time since you were just the two of you, alone together, talking about everything and nothing, just being in each other’s presence enough to fill endless amounts of time. You always felt connected to her, and you had a lot in common, which has always brought you two together. You used to spend many an hour just discussing your mothers, going through footage of them both, trying to understand the biology as children, just so you can feel closer to them, feel like they weren’t gone.

You were laying together on the sand, laughing at something she said, when she became a little more serious and turned her gaze to you.

“How are you? Like really?”

You were a little taken aback by her line of questioning, and the sudden shift in the mood of the conversation. You thought about it for a second.

“I don’t know, to be honest. There’s just a lot going on, a lot of new to adjust to. But then again, we are all going through the same things, so I can’t complain.”

“Well, we are not all going through the same thing. It’s only one of us whose father rose from the dead and is now attacking us. Well, actually…” Her voice faded when she realised, and a small tears fell down her cheek, before she quickly brushed it away with her hand.

“I’m sorry about Spider, Kiri. I know how much he means to you. But I think you shouldn’t be too worried. He’s a tough kid, this knucklehead brother of ours, and he’s going to be back with us in no time.”

“I hope so.”

“Do you think you’ll ever reach out to your dad?”

You scoffed, resigning yourself to drawing little figures in the sand. “I don’t think I’ll ever be able to. And I don’t think there’s any point. He’s always been dead to me, why change anything now?”

Kiri rolled her eyes at your stubbornness, but to be fair, he couldn’t blame you for not wanting to relive a part of your traumatic human life.

“Let’s go in the water.”

You were both just looking at the sand in the water, her - just because she liked it, you because you needed to get better at breathing underwater and fast. She was laughing as she watched you struggle and you almost drowned, but then continued for a while, enjoying yourselves until turquoise feet came into your line of sight. You brought your head out of the water and saw Ao’nung and Rot’xo, as well as two other Metkayina boys you have never met before.

“What? What’d you say?” Said Kiri innocently. Neither of you heard whatever it was they said just a few seconds ago, but based on their mocking tones and faces, you assumed you were about to get very angry.

“I said, are you some kind of a freak?”

You hissed, barring your much larger canines at the people in front of you, placing a protective arm in front of your baby sister.

“No…” Kiri continued, trying to move away from them, but they were unrelenting, following you across the beach.

“Are you sure? I mean, you’re not even real Na’vi. I mean, look at these hands. Look at them.”

You pushed the boy as he reached for your hands, and Lo’ak’s voice broke through all the noise, bringing all the attention to him.

“Back off, fish lips.” He walked until he was so close to Ao’nung, he started backing away to maintain the distance between them, but continued laughing and insulting your appearance.

“Oh, another four-fingered freak.”

They all got impossibly close to you, starting to touch your body. Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a blue form moving quickly towards you, and you knew instantly who it was, and you were now worried for the men currently harassing you. Neteyam put his body in between yours and the Metkayina’s, aggressively pushing Ao’nung away. God, he was hot. You were a lucky girl, you thought to yourself, smirking at the new development.

“Back. Off. Now.” A flash of fear crossed Ao’nung’s face, and with his stupid smile wiped off, he brought his arms out in defeat, backing slowly away from all of you.

“Smart choice.” Neteyam was fuming, you noted by his tone and voice, but he maintained his calm demeanour, always choosing to try the non-violent way first, if possible.

He looked at each one of the boys individually, before he continued. “From now on, I need you to respect my family.” He placed a gentle hand on Kiri’s shoulder, silently telling her to leave, and he did the same to Lo’ak, who kept looking back at the perpetrators. Your eyes locked and you thanked him silently, to which he gave a soft smile, before clicking his tongue in Kiri’s direction, asking you to follow. As you did, you notice Lo’ak falling behind, until his body was fully turned away from you and the rest of his siblings.

“Lo’ak.” You snarled in his direction, knowing all too well where this was headed.

“Don’t worry, sis. I got this.”

Those words have literally not once not made you worry.

He made his way back to where all the boys were, and stopped only when he was in front of the Olo’eyktan’s son.

“ I know this hand is funny.” He says, bring his hand into view, twisting it around to show it from every angle. He points his pinky, raising it even closer to Ao’nung’s face. “Look, I’m a freak. Alien.”

“But it can do something really cool. Watch. First, I ball it up really tight like this, ok? And then -“ you watched as Lo’ak punched him straight in the nose, and then twice more, in the chin and cheek. “It’s called a punch, bitch. Don’t ever touch my sisters again.”

You sighed and rolled your eyes at Lo’ak, but were a little impressed with his technique, that you knew Jake would be proud of under normal circumstances. A full-blown brawl emerged, a tangled mess of limbs and tails, and you saw Neteyam scratch his face and huff in amusement, joining in to stand up for his brother. In any other conditions, you would be mad about this, mad about Lo’ak’s immaturity and Neteyam’s interference, that you knew would cost him a big scolding from the Sully patriarch, but you couldn’t help the little smirk and swell of pride that overtook your being, watching your two men trash the four Metkayina boys, watch them get what they deserved for the weeks of incessant bullying. You and Kiri both started laughing, just watching and enjoying the show, before you felt like it had gotten far enough, at which point, you decided to break it apart, and take your family home.

Neteyam watched his dad’s body go stiff as soon as his eyes landed on his two sons, who were bleeding and bruised, and knew he was in for the ass-kicking on a lifetime. He felt mildly comforted by your being, knowing his father never lost it as much anymore when you were around. As you entered the marui, you instantly went to your medical bag, and left them to their own devices.

“What was the one thing I asked? The one thing?”

“Stay out of trouble.”

“Stay out of trouble!”

“It was my fault.” Neteyam put his hands up in defence, positioning his body between his father and baby brother’s. He heard a low growl coming from where you where, and he saw his dad look over to you, taking in all the information he was receiving.

“Yeah, I don’t think so. You have got to stop taking the hit for this knucklehead.”

“Look, dad, Ao’nung was picking on them. Called them freaks.”

Their dad stopped in his tracks, eyeing them intently, then sighed deeply. He knew then the fight was over. Jake Sully could stand a lot, but disrespect to his own family, especially his daughters, will not be tolerated.

“Is this true?” He saw his eyes go back to where you were, and Neteyam watched as you made your way back to them with supplies in hand.

“Yes, it’s true. Jake, they have been bullying us for weeks. I don’t care about myself, but it’s getting to Kiri. They had it coming.”

“You’re not helping.” Jake rolled his eyes at his new daughter, but couldn’t hide a ghost of a smile.

“Go apologise to Ao’nung.”

“He’s the chief’s son, do you understand?”

“I don’t care how you do it, just go make peace. Just go.”

“Hello? Let me at least clean their wounds first. Lo’ak!” But it was too late, as with a shake of his head, Lo’ak was gone. You turned your head to his father, with a cross expression marring your features.

“I know you’re unhappy, but there’s rule of conduct that has to be followed. You are Na’vi now, it’s time you learn.”

You rolled your eyes, but said no more. You motioned for Neteyam to follow you outside, and he did, before turning back around when he heard his dad’s voice.

“Hey…so what’d the other guys look like?”

Neteyam smirked. “Worse.”

“That’s good.”

“A lot worse.”

With a small smile, his father pointed at where you stood. “Get out of here. And keep an eye on your brother.”

You felt intense annoyance overtake your being as you were patching up Neteyam yet again, for - yet again - another one of Lo’ak’s reckless decisions. You said a silent prayer to Eywa that at least this time it wasn’t as serious, but still, it brought back many painful memories and many unresolved issues within you. You found yourself angry yet again, at your baby brother, at your mate, at your surrogate dad, who all were happy to let Neteyam take the fall for everything. You’d hoped with the Olo’eyktan pressure out of the way, things would change. You hoped that he would finally be safe, finally yours to keep, so you can shake off this feeling that you were going to lose him and move on - move forward, start a family in time. But he wasn’t ready. It was made clear to you again today, like it has been many times before.

“Atan…”

You didn’t want to bring it up yet again, this conversation you have had one too many times, so you continued cleaning his wounds, mostly found on his face. His lip was bleeding, and he licked the blood off which he regretted when you smacked him across the arm.

“Stop that. Let me clean it.”

“Let’s go for a swim, just you and me? I feel like we don’t get that much time to ourselves anymore.”

You sighed as you continued patching him up, feeling tears swimming in your eyes. You chewed on your bottom lip mindlessly, trying to ignore all the feelings of inadequacy that have been plaguing you for weeks, trying to ignore how your heart sank at the thought of the home you left behind, that you couldn’t seem to forget as easily as everyone else did.

“Life was easier when swimming just meant splashing around in the river of our clearing and you carrying me around like I was a doll pushed away by the current.”

“It was, but this can be easier, too. You just have to want it, Atan. You are not a doll anymore, but a rock - unwieldy and unmoving against the current. You have to remember what it’s like to just let yourself go with it, and see where it takes you. I miss home too, so much I will never be able to express into words. But I also want to make the best out of a bad situation. So let’s go, just you and me, let’s swim. Let’s flow with the current.”

“I always thought I was the philosophical one.”

“You’re the science-y one, and I still have some aces up my sleeve.” He winked at you with his boyish smile you loved so much, and you knew he was right. You could be making more of an effort.

“Fine…”

You were happy you went with him. Turns out swimming just for the sake of swimming and not trying to compete or not make a fool of yourself was liberating you and making you perform better, and in no time, you managed to break your own - albeit unimpressive - breathing record. You both called for an ilu, and just enjoyed yourself, admiring the beauty all around you, admiring each other, tumbling and doing acrobatics on the back of your new marine friends. You both came up for air at the same time, and he had an awe-struck look to him, and you felt blood rush to your cheeks at how he was staring you down.

“See, Atan? You’re annoyingly good at everything you do, you just needed a good teacher.” You both laughed at his comments, and you raised an eyebrow in his direction.

“Are you saying Tsireya’s not a good teacher?”

“No, I think Tsireya’s a great teacher. You just need a… more assertive presence.”

“Is that so?” You say with the same expression on your face.

He growls lowly. “Let’s go back in before I show everyone in this village things they will never be able to unsee.”

You were actually impressed with yourself by eclipse, as you have made more progress in one day than you have in weeks. Tired, but content, you made your way out of the water, your mate close behind you, when Ao’nung came by in a hurry, panting - fear clear on his features.

“… I…”

“Just spill it, what did you do?”

“It was supposed to be funny…”

“What was supposed to be funny, dumbass?”

“I think Lo’ak’s in danger.”

Both you and Neteyam came to a halt, breaths hitched as you took in the boy’s words. Neteyam’s face immediately changed to one you knew well, one that Ao’nung cowered at, one that was forged in time by years of being the future Olo’eyktan.

“What. Did. You. Do?” He spoke lowly, purposefully, enunciating every word.

“He came to apologise, but he did it as a joke, so we took him to Three Brothers and left him there. We thought he’d be back in no time, but it’s been hours and his ilu came back missing part of its fin. It was supposed to be funny.”

You hissed at the same time Neteyam snarled in his direction, moving his body towards his and taking him by his queue roughly. You could see Ao’nung being pushed towards the village, and you considered just calling Neyn and looking for him yourself. It was dark, and even Lo’ak wasn’t this irresponsible. Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, fear overcoming you at the thought of your baby brother in danger. You couldn’t imagine how your mate was feeling.

You made your way to your tent, where Neytiri and Jake were.

“Tell them. Tell them what you told me.”

You got on Neyn as soon as Jake gave permission and left alongside Metkayina that would cover the water, while you would look from above. It took a while, but you eventually spotted him, making his way… on top of a huge animal, the biggest you have ever seen. A tulkun - you recognised in awe. It was beautiful, and leaving of trail of mystical glow in the darkness surrounding them. You whistled from on top of your ikran, and watched Lo’ak’s face shoot upwards, a big smile at your sight.

You made Neyn lower you towards where he was floating peacefully, and you watched as Lo’ak said goodbye and ushered his new friend away.

“Need a lift, lil bro?”

You stretched your arm out for him and he took it, getting on your banshee and settling in behind you.

“Expected to see you half dead washed on some stoney shore, not chilling on the back of a tulkun. Want to catch me up?”

“I’m going to kill those assholes.”

“No, you won’t. Still the chief’s son, no matter what a bunch of jerks they are. They’re just bullies, which probably means they have their own shit going on that they are overcompensating for. So tell me.”

“I was attacked by a fucking akula, and he almost got me, but the tulkun saved my life. He was impaled by some sort of metal hook, and I helped him, and we bonded. It was great, Angel. Best thing I have ever done.”

You smiled a little at your brother and his pet name for you, that you were surprised he was still using, endlessly relieved to hear and see him - alive and kicking.

“Why would you go with them, Lo’ak? You know you’re not allowed to go past the reef. Why must you always knock so loudly on death’s door?”

“I was just trying to do what dad told me, just trying to bond with these kids.”

“Bullshit. Maybe you can feed that to the family, but not to me. What’s going on with you?”

“I don’t know, Angel. When he told me, I instantly said no, but then he teased that he’s asking the wrong brother, and… I don’t know. Whenever someone compares me to Neteyam, it triggers something in me, a blind rage that I can’t walk away from. I’m -“

His train of thought was interrupted by a big horn announcing his return, and you saw the village in an uproar, waiting for your arrival. The last thought on your mind is that you and Lo’ak will forever be bound together by your daddy issues.

You landed on a wooden platform, in front of Neteyam and Jake, as well as Tonowari and his family. Jake rushed to his son’s side, checking for injuries, as Lo’ak angrily kept his gaze onto Ao’nung, ready to pounce on him at the earliest opportunity.

“Let’s have a look at you.” Jake said worriedly, trying to also defuse the tense situation unfolding in front of him.

“He’s fine, he’s fine. Just a few scratches.”

Neytiri made her way through the crowd and rushed to her son’s side, gasping while she took him in. “I pray for the strength that I will not PLUCK the eyeballs out of my youngest son.” You saw her ears flatten in fury, mirroring his own submissive ones, so pushed back they were getting lost in his hair.

“No! My son knows better than to take him outside the reef. The blame is his.” You saw a wince make its way on the Olo’eyktan’s son’s face, and you felt a small ping of sadness at the sight - it reminded you a lot of Lo’ak and how he is treated by Jake. It seems you found a reason for Ao'nung's need to bully others.

Relived, Jake took you both and started making his way home. “No. This was not Ao’nung’s fault. This was my idea. Ao’nung tried to talk me out of it.” Oh, baby brother…

“Sorry.”

Jake sighed looking at Tonowari, and started walking away. “I got this.”

As you walked away, hand tightly in Neteyam’s, Lo’ak turned to face his family. “Dad, you told me to make friends with these kids. That’s all I was trying t-“

“I don’t want to hear it. You brought shame to this family.”

A low guttural snarl made its way out of you without your consent or control. You hated how Jake treated Lo’ak, hated how this was the exact reason Lo’ak always acted out, what then got Neteyam involved and endangered. Jake looked at you out of the corner of his eye, but said nothing about your little outburst.

“Can I go now?”

“Any more trouble you get a knot in your tail. Do you read me?”

“Yes, sir. Lima Charlie.” You saw Lo’ak walk away, and you wanted to follow him, wanted to talk him down, but you were interrupted when both the parents turned to you and Neteyam.

“Where were you?” Neytiri says, a stern look on her face.

“Yeah, what happened to keeping an eye on your brother?”

You nose flared and your teeth bared at the unfairness of it all. You couldn’t believe either of them, and you could believe Neteyam even less when all he said was a quiet “Sorry, sir.”

Neteyam and his mum walked ahead when Jake pulled on your arm, keeping you in place.

“You have something to say, kid? It seems you’re very vocal about your opinions today.”

“Oh, there’s a lot I have to say. But I’m too pretty to have to live by myself in the forest when you kick me out of the marui.”

“That’s never stopped you before. What, you think I’m too harsh?”

“On your adolescent son who looks at you like the universe was born in your eyes and does everything he does to gain some respect, some recognition, some love, and all he gets in return is constant ass chewing and disappointed stares? Yeah, a little.”

Jake removed his hand from you and took a step back. His widened eyes took a second to recover, and a hard look replaced it when he found his composure at last.

“Lo’ak will live because of me. Because he won’t have to make the same mistakes I did, because I can stop him from being just like I was at his age.”

“I think all you’re doing is pushing him into those mistakes without realising. Look, I have hated my dad my whole life. I just don’t want Lo’ak to hate you, because unlike my dad, I love you. And I love him. And neither of you will make it in one piece if you keep going like this. You’re going to push him so far he will never recover, and you’ll hate yourself when that happens. And by that time, it’ll be too late to fix it. You still have time to fix this.”

You turned around and walked away, and hoped in silence their relationship has a better chance of surviving than yours and your father’s did.

Gideon landed in the forest that housed the Omatikaya on the back of his new banshee, a beautiful beast that he felt more connected to than to most people he’s ever met. It was surreal and a little scary, feeling another being’s heartbeat, breathing, emotions. He could tell when the banshee was anxious, or scared, or elated. He could feel it all. In return, Ikran (not the most original name, Gideon can admit) could sense his emotions, how frightened he was when he first connected their queues together, how free he felt on his first flight, how anxious he is feeling right now, having to rummage through the forest for a sign of the people he is meant to kill. They all spread out, hoping to cover more ground this way, and so he was left alone, with his thoughts that plagued him without interruption.

The forest was lush and brimming with life, and Gideon stopped to admire it for a while, to feel the beauty that surrounds him. He was close to the village, close to the labs that were now just empty, lifeless metal crates and he couldn’t help wonder how many times Jo passed the exact spot he was currently on, how many times his daughter did. He’s learnt a couple more things in the weeks that have passed, a small bond forming between him and the blonde kid with a big mouth and an equally big heart.

Your name was something him and Jo have discussed before, on one starry-night escapade, laying on the Pandoran grass that was dangerous for both of them, while making plans for the future.

“And if we have a daughter, I think we should name her after that crazy aunt of yours - what was her name again?”

“You want to name my daughter after my crazy aunt?”

“Well, yeah, she was good crazy, driven crazy, smart-ass crazy, cat-lady crazy, and that’s exactly what I want my daughter to be.”

“My Jo, you are weird.”

“You love it.”

“I do love it, you crazy girl.”

He couldn’t believe that he had a daughter. A 19 year old daughter, who grew up completely without him, whose presence in her life is non-existent at best, tortured and messy in most-probable reality. Gideon didn’t know how he died - didn’t know if he ended up executing his orders or following his heart and he felt guilty either way. He was betraying one family or the other, no matter the choice.

As he was walking through the wilderness surrounding him, he was stopped in his tracks by the sight of a small clearing, full of scattered light that left pleasing forms on the ground. He was stunned when his gaze landed on two exo suits, like the ones the RDA still used. Residue from the battle that transpired almost two decades ago, no doubt. He was surprised to find out the RDA just left these here, surely they could be used for spare parts. As he was walking towards one of them, he reached for his radio in order to call it in and have someone pick it up, when he saw the name on it, that was covered in vines. BARLOWE. His hand dropped instantly, reaching instead to break down the creepers to see better. So this is how it all ended. There was no body that Gideon could reasonably see anywhere, so he assumed he died somewhere else, alone on this planet where no one could find him, no one could mourn him.

He took the screen on the exo suit in his hands, that looked a little less dusty and disheveled than the rest of the suit, and fiddled with it until he could hear it start up. The last few moments of his life would play out in front of his eyes, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to face it.

In his viewpoint stood Weinfleet, reloading his gun and pointing with his exo-hand.

“Captain, I think if we go through this clearing, we should be closing in on the tree of souls in about 3 clicks.”

“You’re right. But I don’t think we should do it.”

Lyle looked stunned, and he stopped whatever he was doing to turn around and look and where Gideon stood. “Barlowe, what are you talking about?”

“This is wrong, Lyle. You know it, I know it, everyone here fucking knows it. And if you don’t, you’re even a bigger psychopath than I thought you were. We have to go back.”

“I’m not fucking going anywhere, Captain. These freaks are going to kill all of us if they get their way. Someone has to stop them.”

Gideon saw himself pick up his gun and point it at the bald man he knew too well. “Are you disobeying direct orders, lieutenant?”

“You’re not my squad leader, Captain. And I have orders from above.”

The last thing Gideon saw was the ugly fight that ensued and that resulted in both of them needing to evacuate their suits. The last shot of the camera was Weinfleet hurrying to him with a knife.

Gideon Barlowe could count on one hand the amount of times he had been left speechless in his life, and most of them ironically happened in the last few weeks. There were so many shocks to his system, he felt he would short-circuit in time, nothing left of him but fragments of a soul no one would be able to upcycle.

Betrayed by his own squad. What a shit way to go. Although, he assumed he had betrayed them first - it was at least consolation to know he didn’t go to the planes of eternal life with his last act being genocide of innocent people. He had chosen right. He had chosen to sacrifice himself for the good of this planet, that was a lot more beautiful than his own, for his soul that was maybe not as broken as he had thought, for his love who lived and raised a daughter 10 years after his passing. He had done the right thing.

He continued walking to a tree, where he spotted something that he couldn’t quite place. He now had to count on both hands, cause there he was - again - too stunned to speak. There was a skeleton in the natural nook made by the roots of the tree, and Gideon reached his hand in between the flowers and vines covering it to pick up a rock and a necklace he quickly recognised as his own dog tag. The rock was decorated with shapes and patterns, typical of the Na’vi, and in the middle, was writing carved on the surface.

“You won’t be forgotten, dad. Thank you.”

Gideon held the rock so tightly his knuckles were pale blue, almost white. He wiped the tear that fell down his face and swore he would make himself worthy of your gratitude.

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